Chapter 27: Ink

~Night:

Rebeca slipped her hand into Wesley's as they walked down the sidewalk away from the pretty little restaurant they'd just eaten at, “Thank you for not ordering your steak rare.”

“You're Welcome,” Wesley answered.

“I hate how people can eat half raw meat right in front of you,” Rebeca commented.

“Have I ever ordered my meat rare?” he questioned.

“You did once, after going to that alternate dimension. I ignored it, I was too proud of you to care.”

“Oh...,” Wesley remembered being that vampire. “I don't think I enjoyed that steak as much as I thought I would.”

“The rare one or the one you had tonight?”

“The rare one of course,” Wes nodded.

“Rare steaks make me think of the stomach flu,” shivered Rebeca.

“You're not feeling sick again are you?” Wes questioned.

“Nope- just putting two things together,” she replied. “I've been thinking about something else.”

“What have you been thinking about?” Wesley asked sweetly.

She thought about it, “Ummm...really...I've been thinking about furniture.”

“Furniture?”

“Yes,” she happily replied. “I want to buy a couch or something, or a recliner- I don't know.”

“But I like my furniture.”

“What about a new mattress?” she suggested happily.

“Maybe,” Wes agreed. “I don't know if I can afford a new mattress though.”

“I've got a job too, Silly.”

Wesley smiled, “You sure you want to spend your money on a new mattress? The one we have is very nice, I've been sleeping on it for years.”

“I do want to buy a mattress- I want to spend my money. You see Wes, it'll be our mattress,” Rebeca replied. “And anyway...in the long run I'd be saving money.”

“How?” he implored.

Rebeca glanced up at him, “I won't have to buy anymore mandrake root to cleanse the one we've got.”

“Why are you cleansing it?” Wesley felt a little confused.

“Mites. Even though you can't see them, they're still everywhere.”

“Yes, they're everywhere,” he agreed, stopping, too look at her. “Are you sure that what you're doing is absolutely necessary though? I've never had any trouble with mights and they've not had any real trouble with me.”

“What if there's a ghost in the mattress,” she suggested frankly.

“So, mandrake root would therefore subdue it and getting a new one would make it go away.”

Rebeca smirked, “No- getting a new one would make it happier.”

“Why would we want the ghost happier?” Wesley knew that she was playing with him.

“Because I hear threesomes are the In thing,” shrugged Rebeca.

“With a ghost?”

“Of course. Didn't you know that a ghost is the ultimate partner in a threesome?” Rebeca said, trying to make it sound like it was the largest well known fact in the world.

“The ghost isn't corporeal,” smirked Wesley.

“Maybe he isn't a ghost,” Rebeca kept walking.

Wesley followed her, “What are you trying to say?”

“Maybe he's a little dwarf man,” she replied.

“Mandrake root doesn't subdue dwarves.”

“You caught me, I haven't been buying mandrake root. I've been feeding him gold. He's stuck in the mattress and he won't come out,” she used a dramatic voice. “We have to get rid of the mattress and set him free to live in his own world because getting gold is just too hard.”

Wesley laughed, “He must be a starving dwarf if he's getting a jar of mandrake root's price worth in gold.”

“He's so thin, he's not corporeal,” she affirmed with a little nod of her head.

Suddenly a vampire burst out of nowhere. Rebeca yelped, kicking it in the groin. The vampire went down on his knees roaring in pain. Wesley shot a metal blade out of his coat sleeve. He cut the blade across the vampire's throat, going through the skin and bone.

“Oh, crap-” the vampire groaned, turning to dust.

Wesley retracted the blade back into his sleeve, “How about we sell the mattress on ebay. I'm sure many people are out there looking to sleep with a ghost, and an anorexic dwarf.”

Rebeca finished, “Have you even been listening to me this entire time? There isn't a ghost in the mattress.”

~ Day:

The coffee in the coffee pot at Angel Investigations was old. Wesley wondered why no one would ever get rid of it. As soon as he wondered this he figured out the answer, realizing that he was pretty much the only one who drank it at all. Angel would drink the coffee sometimes, but he'd leave the cups on his desk till what was inside would get slushy.

Life has gotten too sweet for him...

Wesley took the coffee pot to the bathroom, where he washed it out in the sink. As he went back through the lobby, to the coffee maker he picked up a posted note that had the grocery list written on it. Wesley examined the list carefully, everyone had something different written on it in very small handwriting that was almost too small for Wes to read.

Emma's writing said: Pepsi, Brown Sugar Poptarts, Beagals, Jelly Beans, and we're running our of Fruit Loops.

Spike's writing said: Booze, blood, more booze, (buy the good stuff or I'll cut your break line.)

Wes thought too himself, It isn't a normal morning without an empty threat from Spike on a posted note...

Sometimes Wes would also receive dirty references on posted notes and left all over his SUV, Spike wrote them, Emma put them on during the day.

Angel's writing: Star Magazine, Ritz Crackers, Blood- (don't get Spike anything, he can get his stuff on his own.)

Wesley wrote the necessities down at the very bottom. Connor apparently didn't want anything, or he was going to finish off the Fruit Loops. Wes glanced across the lobby when he heard the basement door opening. What could make a good morning take its turn for the worst? Angel entering the building, followed by Spike.

“It's just a scratch!” Spike said.

“It's a big gash Spike,” Angel complained. “You ruined the paint job.”

“No, you let me drive,” Spike pointed out.

Angel shook his head no as he turned to Spike, growling angrily, “You stole my keys out of my coat and you took the car out for a joyride. I was in no way involved in your decision to ruin her!”

“Her?” Spike scoffed, poking fun at Angel. “I guess you have to figure out some way to get your Jollies off-”

“Shut up Spike,” Angel hissed.

“Get a new line,” Spike retorted.

“Silencio Spike!” growled Angel.

“Get out of my face,” Spike pushed Angel away.

Wes sighed,“Correct me if I'm wrong but, I thought I heard we were all adults here.”

Angel backed off, “I'm going to be the adult Spike, I'm going to walk away. While you on the other hand, are going to get some money together-”

“Like Hell I am,” hissed Spike. “I got better things to spend my bills on.”

“Like vampire hookers?” Angel demanded.

“No - I don't need to pay for my women.”

Wesley looked at them both, “You two do know you're both generally immortal and that you'll have to get used to each other sometime?”

Both Angel and Spike said, “Not going to happen.”

Wesley walked away from them, grumbling under his breath, “I've got a long road ahead of me.”

“Think about how I'd feel.” Spike pointed to Angel. “I've got a good hundred years probably with this Boob.”

“Did you just call me a Boob?” Angel raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.

“He'll be prancing around like a dumb little brooding fairy- until someone kills him- then he's just going to come back,” Spike announced whiningly.

“Why don't you just move away?” Angel demanded. “Go get your own place. Go somewhere sunnier-”

“Maybe I will,” Spike warned, (as if Angel cared.)

“I encourage it,” Wes grumbled as he set his laptop up on the top of the desk. He spoke up, “If you two aren't going to get along maybe the best thing for you would be some form of separation.”

“Maybe a mystical restraining order that caught him on fire when ever he started yacking or was within 500 miles of me,” Angel suggested.

Spike took his coat off, “If I'm risking getting caught on fire, he should be at risk too.”

“Didn't you two get along when you both didn't have souls?”

Angel and Spike looked at each other. Angel sighed, “Unfortunately.”

“Evil has bad taste in friends...” Spike declared softly.

“Ever tried settling your differences through a verbal agreement to disagree?” Wesley went back to work with the coffee pot.

“Yeah, it was the 70s-” Spike pointed at Angel, “He was high.”

“I was not,” sneered Angel. “You were high and Drusilla was mocking me-”

Spike made his way over to the stairs, his coat under his arm, “Don't bring up the past like it'll save you- you fell off the wagon-”

“I wouldn't have been hitching a ride on the back of that station wagon if you hadn't of blown up my car!” Angel sounded. “The guy was dead anyway, there was nothing we could do.”

Spike scoffed as he made his way up the stairs.

Wesley looked at the two of them, “You two used to run into each other a lot?”

“Not really,”Angel sighed, walking around the bar.

“You do know that what you two are doing is completely immature and ridiculous,” Wesley kept a very mature, calm tone of voice.

“Unfortunately Spike brings the worst out in me. We'll probably kill each other soon, if things keep going the way they've been going,” Angel explained on a lighter note.

“That's not good,” Wes was changing the filter for coffee.

“I really wish he'd move out, but according to those visions I had...that's not going to happen for a good 20 years at least,” Angel sighed.

“What else did you see?” Wes grabbed the can of coffee grounds from nearby the coffee maker.

Angel frowned, he didn't want to tell Wesley that he hadn't seen him. “Nothing big- usual...demon fighting, debt, Spike, Connor, Emma- end of the world so on and so forth.”

Wesley felt like Angel wasn't telling him everything. He wanted to write in one of his journals a detailed description of the future, to help prevent major crisis...but Angel wouldn't budge on the information. Wesley could understand not telling, but he thought it would be useful to know certain things.

The day moved on as smoothly as any normal day at Angel Inc. could.

Rebeca was waiting for something in the kitchen area of Wes' apartment. She was waiting for Wes but something else was on her mind. She found herself staring out the window, the drapes wide open. Rebeca liked to the pull the drapes back on a sunny day off. There was so much outside to look at when relaxing.

Children were playing in the park across the street. There was a little red haired girl on the swings, demanding with her innocent voice for her mother to push her farther. They were laughing and having fun. Little boys chased each other around the jungle gym.

Cars drove down the street between the apartment building and park, every so often. There was a couple having a picnic underneath the shade of a large tree. It was almost 12 and Wesley would be home soon. Rebeca didn't want to have a picnic, she wanted to stay in today. Picnics were cliché to her, but sometimes fun.

As usual, when Rebeca didn't bring in Lunch for Wesley, he would go to his apartment for lunch. He preferred not to spend so much money on gas but Rebeca was very persistent about lunch. She wanted to see him at exactly 12PM everyday.

Rebeca heard Wesley coming down the hall before he reached the door, and she pulled herself away from the sunny outdoor life. The door was unlocked and when Wesley walked into his apartment, before he could get the door closed, Rebeca was on him. He almost fell over as she jumped into his arms and started planting warm kisses on his cheeks and mouth. Wesley grabbed onto her so that he wouldn't drop her onto the hard floor.

Rebeca gave him one last, deep kiss, that made him forget he was surprised by her greeting. She pulled away after a long moment, after making Wesley's head pound a little, “Hello.”

“Hello,” he breathed. Rebeca slid out of his hold, still smiling up at him. “What's for lunch then?”

“Oatmeal cookies,” she said going over to the kitchen. Wesley gave her back a weird look as he regrouped from having been jumped. He loved Rebeca to death, but sometimes she knew how to hurt his back and stomach.

When she'd make cookies, you'd think she would be having a bake sale soon. Sometimes she would sell these cookies, but mostly she'd just bake them out of boredom. That meant plates of cookies littered the kitchen. Wesley followed her into the other room only to see ingredients all over the counter, plates of cookies everywhere- he was thankful that she never made him eat his fill in cookies. He'd probably stop somewhere for a sandwich on the way back to the hotel.

“Honey, you've out done yourself,” he sighed. “We would have loved to have you at the hotel.”

She grabbed a plate with four cookies on it, and she walked past him, “But I love to bake.”

“I know, I know,” Wesley nodded turning to follow her back into the living room area. “I love your baking but...that's a lot of cookies. If you were so tired of being alone you could have come down to the hotel.” He thought in his head, you could start a Myspace page...

Rebeca sat the plate of cookies down on the coffee table, and she took one. Wesley sat down on the couch. She plopped down next to him, “I like to sit alone, baking.”

“Oatmeal cookies don't bore you?”

“Do they bore you?” asked Rebeca.

“Of course not-”

“You liar,” she hissed, a playful grin on her face. “Of course my oatmeal cookies bore you! If they didn't you'd be crazy.”

“Does that then mean...you're crazy?” Wesley questioned.

“No- I'm just peculiar,” she replied. He smiled softly as he watched her bite into her cookie. Trying to cover her mouth she spoke a little about what she'd been doing. She always enjoyed the rushes of genuine excitement that she'd get, but sometimes that was during meal time and it's rude to talk with your mouth open. “I've been watching the park for hours. I'm not a stalker though- you know what I mean. The people out there seem so happy.”

He looked down at the one that she placed in his hand, “You ever feel like you're getting old?”

“Why?” she asked putting her cookie down on a napkin she'd brought into the room with her. “Am I getting wrinkly? I can still pass for 20.”

“No, no,” Wesley shook his head no. “You look perfect, I was just thinking about me.”

She moved her eyebrows up and down, “You look pretty damn perfect yourself Mr. Wyndham-Pryce.”

Wesley smiled softly, “Thank you...but it's in more or less the numbers, rather than the look.”

“Did I hurt your back when I jumped you?” she added with a childlike innocence. “I just got a little excited-”

“No- you hurt me very little,” he sighed.

“I hurt you?”

“I'm fine,” he comforted. Then he scoffed at himself, “Look at me, I've ruined your mood. You said that you were watching the people across the street.”

“Yeah.”

He brought his cookie to his mouth to take a bite, “You sounded like you saw something interesting.”

“Not really,” she frowned. “I just pay attention to things is all...I get caught up in watching the people outside in the sun.” She paused. Wesley ate his cookie nicely enough. She picked her cookie back up, “Numbers, are nothing. You're still Wesley- you're as old as you want to be. I mean, I went to my prom with a 52 year old man.”

“What?” he stopped.

“No one else would go with me,” Rebeca shrugged her shoulders, “And he said he was 20.”

“Did he look 20?” Wesley questioned.

“Kinda,” she smiled. “He should have said he was 30 or 35, I would've gone with him anyway...I was trying to fit in. I shouldn't have said anything at all to you about him. I feel silly now.”

Rebeca looked into Wesley's eyes as he spoke, and they looked a little brighter, “There's so much I don't feel like I know about you.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she frowned. “Most of the time it's a bad thing.”

“No. It's kind of exciting,” softly he smiled.

After Wesley left, Rebeca returned to the kitchen. She put her cookies and ingredients away, then cleaned off the counter and table. Once everything was done, she thought she'd go back to looking out the window. From inside the apartment she could still hear the laughter of the playful children.

There was a light breeze that blew into the room through the open window. There was something on the windowsill that caught her attention as she sat down. She didn't sit down.

On the windowsill sat a paper bird. The paper was light blue. Except to go to the bathroom, Wes had never left Rebeca's sight, so he didn't put that little bird there. She picked up the origami bird. She tore the paper bird up into small pieces and casually tossed it into the nearest trash can.

Rebeca looked to the window, she glanced down at the parked cars at the curb, there was nothing there out of the ordinary, the parked looked safe. She closed the window.

~ Night:

Wesley started packing his things up to return to his apartment for the night.

“Don't you know that the fun starts when the sun goes down?” Spike slid his leather jacket on.

“I have my own definitions of fun Spike” Wes put away his laptop.

“Yes sleeping,” Spike glanced at Wes' watch from afar, “I see. It's almost 9 o'clock at night. You have to get home so that you can take a vitamin and be asleep in your fancy old man pajamas on the dot.”

“Did you think that I would want to go out on the town with you Spike?”

“No,” he admitted to Wes. “I'm just a little concerned- you've been going home earlier and earlier now days.”

“You're all capable of taking care of things without me here, and I have a lady waiting for me at home,” Wes took his stuff with him towards the exit. He stopped, “If Angel wonders were I went you'll tell him right?”

“That old boy can figure you out like clock work,” Spike replied. “I don't have to say a thing.”

“Thank you Spike, for doing nothing,” Wesley opened one of the front lobby doors.

“You've very welcome!” Spike gave him a thumbs up.

Wes didn't reply as he left the building.

Due to an accident on the roads, Wes didn't make it back to his apartment until ten. He wasn't turning into an old man. Whenever he went home early, he'd go out to the movies, or to dinner with Rebeca. Sometimes they'd just sit down on the couch and watch whatever was on cable. The night would be silent and they didn't care- they felt completely comfortable with each other. Wesley noticed this once and wondered if there was something wrong, but Rebeca seemed to be perfectly happy with him and their silences.

As Wes unlocked the front door to his apartment, he braced himself to be pounced on. Of course there was that slight chance that after their talk at lunch, she wouldn't be doing that for awhile. He wondered if he'd said the wrong thing, when she didn't even enter the room to say hello to him. He'd come in after a hard days work and she'd be sitting on the couch either all dressed up or happily awaiting for movie night to begin.

“Rebeca?!” he called out nicely. He refrained from saying, Honey I'm home.

She didn't answer him. He made his way towards the back bedroom, putting his laptop on the living room couch. He listened for the shower- maybe she couldn't hear him. The shower wasn't running.

Wesley considered the idea that maybe she went to sleep. He would crawl into bed and hold her tightly for the night, like usual. He didn't mind going to bed a little early.

The light in the bedroom was on, and Rebeca was laying in the bed. It was rare that she ever left the bedside lamp turned on. He entered the bedroom only to realize that she wasn't asleep.

“Rebeca!” there was blood covering the bed, soaked into the sheets. He went to her, “REBECA!” Her throat was cut and the blood was leaking out, her eyes moving around dizzily in her head. His heart raced, “Oh my God.” He grabbed his cellphone out his pant pocket, he opened it and started dialing 911.

She moaned. He could hear the blood thick in her throat.

Wes quickly wrapped some of the bed sheets up in his hand and put pressure to the wound- but never enough to affect her breathing, “Don't go anywhere- stay with me!” He felt sick. “911- my girlfriend is hurt! Come quickly- her throat's been slit.”

His eyes were searching the room. The window wasn't even opened. She was shaking, blood gushing out onto the blanket, he watched her pale face, “Rebeca- don't go! PLEASE! Stay with me, you have to stay with me!”

He could remember what it felt like to get your throat cut- his old scar hurt. She was gasping and he wasn't sure what more to do- he usually knew this stuff. He'd gone blank. Her blood was warm, on his hands. Shakily he dropped his cell...

Angel made his way down the hallway near the lobby.

Where did Wesley go?

He'd spent some time in his room, trying to figure out what had happened- what those visions really meant when one were to look hard at them. In his room he'd been putting together a time line.

Wesley dies? That was the first thing written on his time line. Who's David, and why did I know him?Angel had trusted the young man in the future. If the young man was working with Angel so easily, then of course he would've trusted him.

“Where are you dad?” Connor was sitting in the hall floor.

“What?” Angel snapped back to reality.

“You stepped on my leg,” Connor pointed to his leg.

“Oh- I'm sorry Connor,” Angel sighed.

“Where were you?” Connor stood up, slowly sliding up the wall. “You just didn't see me.”

“I was thinking,” Angel nodded. “Why didn't you warn me?” Connor shrugged. “You're going to have to warn me. I'm sorry.”

Connor nodded, “No need- it wasn't bad. I barely felt it.”

“Good- no- I,” Angel shook his head, stopping himself. “What are you doing sitting here anyway? We have chairs.”

Connor shrugged, “I was just thinking.”

“Was that going well for you?” Angel felt like it wasn't going well for him.

“Um...I'm asking myself a question and I come up with too many answers,” Connor replied.

“Well, I can't come up with any at all Connor. You should be happy that you can think.”

Connor went to the rail looking over the lobby, “I can't be happy about any of my theories.”

Angel crossed his arm, “What are you wondering about? Maybe I can, I don't know, help.”

His son looked at him. He didn't reply at first, he just looked at Angel. Connor didn't look like he wasn't going to reveal to Angel what his problem was, he didn't look like he was considering that thought at all. “I keep, asking myself...why is she with him?” There was a grain of distaste in his voice.

“Emma with Bill?” Angel asked.

“Yeah.”

“Um...” Angel wanted to pick his answers well. “Connor. I know that she hasn't moved on.”

“Did she tell you something?” Connor stood up straighter. “You were with her when Cordelia left.”

“Yeah, but...”Angel looked down at the floor. “Maybe...she's just truthfully, maybe she's just trying to hurt you. I'm not trying to hurt Connor.”

“I- I don't understand,” Connor crossed his arms. “She kissed me.”

“Girls are weird,” Angel swallowed. He shook that out of his reply like pressing and faulty delete/backspace button, “No. I don't know what she's thinking.”

Connor confessed, “I never thought you did.”

“She kissed you?” Angel questioned.

“She kissed me,” he confirmed again.

“How did she feel at the time? You can sense her feelings. Did she mean it- did the kiss mean something good?” he felt a little awkward now, wondering about the meaning of a kiss, and talking about it.

“I guess she meant it- she let me kiss her back,” Connor leaned back against the column behind him. “Her skin was warm.”

“I don't want you to worry Connor. I understand that it's automatic- but...” he thought about the dreams. “Everything will work out in the end.”

“Why?” Connor insisted. “She's with Bill, right now.”

“But in 20 years- she's with you,” Angel took a step towards his son. “Bill is nowhere in sight. The end of the world happens, and she's with you.”

Connor didn't speak. His face didn't register any form of confusion- so he must not have been confused. Connor didn't ask any questions.

Angel pat him on the shoulder, “I know the apocalypse is a mood killer but... you need to stick in there Connor, and don't rush her. I hate seeing you sad- you're my son.”

Connor looked down, he sighed, “20 years is a long time.”

“Just wait.” Angel finished, “That other guy is a werewolf, he's not a part of her, okay.” The phone in the lobby rang. Angel took his hand from Connor's shoulder. “I'm, going to get that.”

Wesley sat in the waiting room of the hospital, unsure of what the believe. He couldn't stop thinking the worse. Wesley told himself that it was too early to fold, that he had to be strong. He knew that Rebeca was strong.

How could someone have been ripped out of his life so easily? Wesley clenched his fist as he watched the door leading into the OR.

Stay with me, please...He was covered in her blood. Don't die. He flexed his fingers so tightly that the skin on his knuckles was white.

Who would do this to her?

“Wes,” Angel entered the waiting room with quick steps, he was followed in by Connor.

Wesley rose up from his seat, he'd called Angel on one of the ancient pay phones nearby, “That was quick.” His cellphone was broken.

“Is she alright?” Connor questioned.

Wesley swallowed then answered, “No one's come out of the OR yet. I found her...on the bed like that...her blood is on me.”

“Did you check to see if anyone else was in your apartment?” Angel asked.

Wes shook his head no, “No- things were moving too fast. I- I was only thinking about Rebeca.”

“Of course,” Angel nodded in gentle understanding.

“How long has she been in there?” Connor wondered about the operating room.

“I- an hour,” Wes sighed as he sat down again. “I don't want her to die.” His words sounded displaced, like he wasn't in the moment. He was in shock really. “Who, would do this? Why her?”

“I have no clue,” Angel spoke seriously.

“We'll find out who,” Connor stated.

There's a small room in an apartment building in LA that has origami birds hanging from all over the ceiling. The air coming from the air conditioner makes them sway helplessly on their strings in the dark. The swaying isn't too fast, it's actually quite slow.

Keys jingling together can be heard from inside the apartment as someone moves to open the door. The door comes open and the person enters the room. He doesn't flip the lights on.

The man closes the apartment door as he removes his jacket. He kicks off his shoes on the way to the bathroom. He removes his shirt as he flips the bathroom lights on. His back is covered in scars, deep thin cuts and tattoos. The man rinses his slightly scared face off with a little water.

He's tired and wants to go to bed.

He's tall with short white hair. Considering the fact that he was no older than 35 something must of happened to him early on in life to turn his hair that color. He certainly doesn't bleach it, because the little bit of gray left up front looks too natural.

At one point in life, something must have cut his lips up, because there were thick scars all over them.

“We've stopped the bleeding, and we gave her a transfusion,” a doctor was explaining everything to the small faction of the gang. “We're going to keep her in ICU for now, just to keep her under observation.”

“Can I see her?” Wesley asked.

“Well, she's resting but...I don't see any harm in just checking on her,” the doctor was nice, he smiled a little.

“We'll stay out here,” Angel told Wesley.

“Alright,” Wes nodded.

He followed the doctor who continued to talk in the quiet halls of ICU, “Her artery wasn't severed, but it was a close one. The cut was deep, we suggest that she not talk for awhile.”

“I understand,” Wes nodded.

The doc continued, “The cut was as I said, deep but it was very thin. I don't know of any blade that could've cut her like that.”

Wesley didn't answer, he was thinking about what who could've done it and he realized that he didn't know if she had anymore friends. When she woke up he'd ask her- maybe she could write it down, or maybe she could draw him a picture.

“Don't be surprised if the police wish to speak with you. It's protocol for these types of situations,” the doctor opened the door into Rebeca's room.

“I understand,” Wesley said it again as he entered the room.

“My hopes are high Mr. Wyndham-Pryce,” the doctor confirmed before leaving him to Rebeca.

She was asleep in her hospital bed, with a hospital gown on and a blanket covering her legs. They left her arms uncovered, she hated having her arms uncovered when she slept, they'd get so cold. Wesley would've covered them up if he wasn't afraid of touching her. He was afraid that she'd break. There were bandages all around her mouth, an IV in arm, and air was being given to her threw and oxygen tube.

Her face was so pale it hurt him, her eyelids a little purple. Her long black hair laid out around her head and that was all he could bare to touch. She breathed softly in, never waking up as he stood nearby her her heart monitor beating softly, machines he couldn't remember the name of at that moment hooked up to her.

Wesley didn't have much to say on the drive back to his apartment. He would have preferred staying at the hospital with Rebeca. He wanted to be there to see her when she woke up. Wes also wanted the attempted killer, the bad guy to be caught. He wanted to search for every clue to what had happened.

“You entered the apartment and closed the door,” Angel spoke as they traveled down one of the many halls in Wes' apartment building.

“Yes,” Wesley acknowledged dully. “All of the lights were on.”

“Then you went to the bedroom. You found Rebeca on the bed,” Angel continued. “Did you notice anything else?”

There was police tape over Wes' door, marking the scene of the crime. They stopped at the front door. Connor listened for a moment, the other two waiting patiently for him.

"There's no one inside," Connor replied.

Angel pulled the police tape down and Wesley unlocked the door. They entered. Angel turned the lights on with the flick of a switch on the wall to his right. They all stopped in the doorway, seeing the well lit room. Origami birds hung from the ceiling all throughout Wes' apartment, they were still swaying as if they'd just been hung.

“The police would not have done this,” noted Angel.

Wesley looked disgusted as he saw the thousands of folded paper birds, just hanging there. Connor walked forward, ducking his head down, away from the decorations over him. He entered the kitchen, then traveled to the bathroom.

"I'm feel very confident about the idea that the attempted killer is the one who did this," Angel stated.

Wes closed the door without pulling his head away from the scene, "I'm in much agreement with you."

Connor reentered the room, "All of the windows are closed. They're locked too- he must've come through the door and set the tape back."

"He would've had to break in," Angel checked the door knob.

"They probably picked the lock," Wes suggested, looking up at one of the the red paper birds as it sort of dwindled in the air on a thin piece of thread.

"Of course," Angel nodded.

"This is sick," Connor stated.

Wesley reached up towards the bird before him, "The thread their connected to is taped to the ceiling, not connected to a trap...he probably knows that Rebeca is still alive as well- ow-" Wes cut his finger on the bird. He hissed faintly, looking at the cut a simple, small droplet of blush gushing out of the wound. He put his fingertip into his mouth to stop the little bit of bleeding that small cut was doing.

"And some how the pretty warning, or calling card ends up hurting one of us anyway," Angel sighed.

"It would've taken hours to do this," Connor shook his head.

"Yes, it would have," Wes agreed.

"All of the birds were made with red or pink paper," Angel noticed.

"Except for the blue one in the back over there," Connor crossed the room for the bird. He grabbed the bird off it's string after glancing around to make sure that it wasn't connected to anything. He didn't care if he received a paper cut. He gently unfolded the paper.

Wes ducked down, keeping his head away from the birds as he crossed over to Connor, "Is there anything inside, or on the paper?"

"Nothing," Connor sighed with the folded piece of paper in hand. "They put tape on this one, after tearing it up. The tape made it hang heavier..." he handed the bird to Wesley, who excepted it, and put it up to the nearest lamp light.

"Are we really expecting to find a secret message in these things?" Angel questioned.

"We should check," Connor looked with Wesley at the unfolded piece of paper Wes held.

"There's nothing on it- just the tape," Wes flipped the piece of paper around in his hand.

"And flour," Connor added, looking at Wes paper cut from afar.

"Rebeca was making Oatmeal cookies this afternoon," Wes sighed.

"The tape must be a clue," Angel walked over to the others.

"The pieces were torn up," Wes sighed. "It could be symbolic."

Connor's eyes were still on Wes' cut, "Hey..." They looked at him. "Can paper...can a piece of paper cut a person's throat?"

"The weapon?" Angel asked.

Wesley wanted to see Rebeca, he wanted to ask her what she saw, what had happened. Wesley looked at the torn edges of the paper, and they were clean, “Do you smell blood on the paper?”

“The only blood we smell is in your bedroom,” Connor replied.

“Maybe he just wanted to give us a hint to what the weapon was,” Wes considered aloud, folding the piece of taped paper up in his hand. He tossed it across the room without much feeling.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, “They want us to play into their hand.”

The nurses and doctors moving in out of the room weren't what woke Rebeca. The waker of Rebeca, had to be the dawn sun. It shined in through her hospital room's window and brightly onto her face. Her green eyes slowly opened, she was a little unsure of where she was.

“I pulled back the blinds for you,” spoke a deep raspy voice. It sounded like it belonged to a handsome person. “I remembered how much you like the morning sun.”

Rebeca turned softly in her bed, a pain going through her neck, chest and stomach. She didn't moan in announcement of what little hurt she just suffered. She wanted to talk when she saw the man by her bed. He wasn't Wesley, and the scars took away from what had once been a handsome face. She opened her mouth.

“Your throat was cut darling- don't talk, you shouldn't,” he was the scarred man from the apartment with the origami hanging all from the cieling.

Rebeca thought, Travis.

The man's name was Travis Dawson. Rebeca definitely knew him. The scar covered man was from her past, he was her husband.

She thought, You hurt me. It hadn't taken her long, just a moment to figure out where she was, a split second really.

Angel had taken one of the many pieces of folded origami from the ceiling and he swiped it across Connor's throat, nicking it a little bit. Connor wiped the one droplet of blood fromhis throat.

Angel hissed, “I don't like doing this Connor.”

Connor smirked faintly, “Is it because you can't swipe it fast enough?”

Wesley stood nearby, watching their scene. His arms were crossed over his chest. He looked to be in deep thought.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Angel stated.

“I don't care,” Connor nicely replied.

“Yeah,” Angel sighed.

Connor put his arms down to the side, “Cut me.”

Angel pulled his arm back and he swiped the piece of paper he held, at Connor's throat. That's what they did until morning.

“I missed you,” Mr. Dawson smirked softly. Rebeca wanted him to leave but he had the remote that called the nurse. It was a shame that the bed wasn't made with one connected to it or on some kind of panel. He stroked her black curls of hair off her face, and she just eyed him, glaring harshly into her face. “Prison is hard when you don't have the one you love by you...or even calling you- never writing letters either.”

Rebeca lay perfectly still in her bed.

He gently caressed her face, “She I be forgiving Rebeca?” She clenched her teeth, but that wasn't an answer. “It was your fault...you told on me.” His eyes moved from hers, from her face as he pulled back. He saw her heart monitor, he watched the number marking her blood pressure, “I'm causing you stress. You're afraid of me aren't you?”

He waited and she didn't answer. He wasn't dumb, he didn't expect an answer either way. Travis' eyes moved to the table beside her bed. “Silly me, you can't talk.” He knew very well that she couldn't talk.

He grabbed the marker and dry erase board off of the bed. Gently he put the items in her hands. She excepted it reluctantly.

“Do you have anything to say?” he wondered aloud. He waited like a gentleman. She didn't write anything down on the board for him to read. She didn't even take the top off the marker. He frowned, carrying on to something else he'd been thinking about, “You're cheating on me. I wanted you to die Rebeca.”

She did write something, popping the cap off of the marker. She wrote, Harsh.

“This isn't one of those cliché, if I can't have you no one will things,” Travis hissed softly. “It's one of those situations where, I kill you out of revenge and your lover falls into a deep dark hole of depression anyway. I trusted you Becky.”

Rebeca wrote, I trusted you with my heart.

Travis laughed softly to himself. A silence bestowed itself upon the two characters.

“Just out of curiosity, where's your lover now Becky?” She didn't answer him. He gave her a generous bit of time then remarked, “ I take it you don't know.”

Rebeca scribbled, Did you do something to Wesley?!!!

“No,” he breathed. “I decorated your apartment though, with the murder weapon.”

She wrote, I barely remember that part.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Rebeca watched his every moved as he started folding the piece of smooth paper. “I made a pretty little animal for you and you ripped it up, then tossed it into the trash.” She continued to watch him. “I came around during the night. I loosened the lock to your apartment...remember- you heard it.” He held his hand out a small blue papered bird in his palm. She held herself completely still.

The small bird rose up from his palm, with the power of his mind. The inanimate creature flapped it's folded wings a little. Rebeca remembered having heard the lock of the apartment door click loudly as the locks themselves, unlocked. She had turned from the edge of the bed where she'd been standing and towards the living room.

“Wes?” Rebeca remembered.

The little bird floating up from Travis' hand aimed it's long neck towards her. It may have been a small thing, but it was deadly thing with Travis Dawson's power controlling it. Rebeca didn't take her eyes off of the bird. No one was nearby. She considered screaming, but for some reason was afraid that sound wouldn't come out. How badly has she really been hurt?

The burn shot forward and she closed her eyes quite suddenly. The bird zoomed past her face, a small breeze running across her face as it passed her head a lock of her hair being damaged by the thing's fine, sharp edges.

“I'm not an idiot Becky, I wouldn't hurt you in here,” he smiled a hint.

The paper bird had dropped to the floor. A knock to the door into the hospital room penetrated the moment. Travis faced the door.

Wesley entered the room, “Rebeca?”

Travis looked to his wife, to see her happy smile. Angel stood out in the hall with Connor, Travis got a good look at them too, “I guess I must be going.”

“Who are you?” Wesley demanded.

Travis rose up from his seat, “That's for our baby here to tell you.”

“She's been through a traumatic event- you should do her the favor of telling me,” Wesley replied. He didn't like this character. He wondered why a man like Travis Dawson would be covered in so many scars.

Travis smiled, he only smiled, “You'll figure it out philosopher.” Angel and Connor would've been willing to block the door from the man if that's what Wes had wanted.

The scarred man passed Angel and Connor. Angel looked to his son, speaking softly, “Follow him.”

Connor nodded his head once and started off at Mr. Dawson. His steps were quick but strangely soundless; Connor had a stalker mode.

Wesley looked to Rebeca once more; he put himseld at her side and asked, “You did know him yes?”Rebeca shook her head and grabbed her dry erase board up. “Why- why did he call you baby?”

Rebeca turned her board to Wesley, He's my husband.

“What?” Wesley didn't want to believe what he just read, there had to be an explanation.

Rebeca quickly erased what she'd written before, with her wrist and then scribbled out, I love you though. I don't want him. Don't be mad.

Wes was silent, he didn't want to immediately reply. Rebeca was fearful with his silence, she didn't know what to make of it. Usually men reacted poorly to the sort of news that Wesley had just been given.

She erased her board, then wrote, Say something.

“I'm not mad,” he sat himself in the chair beside her bed. Rebeca smiled softly across the way at him. He touched her hand, “Why- why didn't you say anything?” He didn't want to be mad- Wesley believed that Rebeca would have a good reason for having not told him.

He let her have a moment to situate her thoughts onto the dry erase board. He didn't like the wait, but he had to wait, even though it made his throat tight with concern.

“The only person I'm angry with is him” Wesley admitted. “I feel like I should be...tell me everything.”

Rebeca showed him her board. It read, He's a killer I help put away. I loved him till I found out what monster he was. Forgive me.

“Did he beat you?” Wesley guessed.

She shook her head no and added at the end of the board, He was the best.

Wesley turned his head a way from her and her heart jumped up into her throat. The heart monitor even showed some of her distress, Wes could read as much.

Rebeca started writing- she wanted to talk- it hurt her to be tempted to do as much.

Not the best. You're best.

“Did he try to kill you?” Wesley wondered aloud.

She felt stunted for words for some reason. She was afraid. What was she afraid?

Wes saw her deliberation, “Do you know what happened to you? I almost lost you-” he reached out to touch her arm.

She swallowed hard. A pain went through her throat; she even felt it in her face. It took her a moment to reply and she didn't use the chalk board for this one. Her voice came out husky, rough, it felt like something was scraping her throat from the inside out too. She had to say, “He's a...monster. I love you...too much...to...get you...hurt...”

Wesley saw the folded bird on the edge of her bed. He should have looked harder. He wouldn't have needed to ask those silly things. They were silly when the answer was just so plain, so simple. He touched the paper bird, picking it up like it was fragile.

“He's monster.”

“Don't talk,” Wesley demanded, his voice sounded out a little harsher than meant.

Rebeca froze up a little, her eyes were wet. They stared at each other for an instant, until Rebeca grabbed her board back up. He watched her as she wrote.

“I'm- I'm sorry I used that tone,” Wesley felt bad. She was in the hospital, he was fine- he was fine.

She'd written out, He has telekinesis.

“I'm not the only one willing to handle him,” Wesley sighed. “We have a whole team.”

“To get, revenge?” Rebeca unfortunatley, could only growl that.

Wesley shook his head no, “To get justice.”

Rebeca erased her board and wrote, That's what they all say.

“What if he hurts someone else?” Wesley insisted most seriously.

You, stay with me. I'm sorry. You're the weakest link.

Even though Angel had closed the door many sentences ago, he still listened to the conversation now from the hall. He couldn't hear Rebeca's words but he could assume what the conversation was about. His mind was drawn from their words, to the visions- lead really. His mind always went back to how there wasn't an old and gray haired Wesley manning the Hyperion, or Angel Investigations.

I couldn't stand losing you, Rebeca looked like she'd been shaken. Wesley didn't answer and Rebeca had time enough to reply on her board. He was a hit man, special. You should be afraid with me. If something must be done, let the supernatural types do it. Her hand writing was shortly turning into nothing but chicken scratch.

There was an ache in Wesley's voice, “I have to find him. I want you safe. I can't lose anyone else, especially you.” Rebeca was regretting having called him a weaker link. Wes nodded, “I am the weaker link- you're completely right. I want to know Rebeca, that he's dealt with- gone. Seeing is...I want to see him suffer for trying to take you away from me.”

She wrote, What could make you stay?

“I can't stay, I have to go with Angel- we have to find him- we have to get rid of him. For the sake of you, and the other people he could hurt,” Wesley described.

She erased her words then rewrote, What if I told you my biggest secret?

Wes stopped, but not for long. He wanted to know everything about her. Travis Dawson was a raving lunatic that had to be stopped- especially considering the fact that he was a hit man, a special hit man, “I have to go with them. They need me-”

She'd written something else, before his pleading had finished, I'm pregnant.

Connor recognized some of the cars outside of Travis Dawson's apartment building. What connections did this hit man slash monster have?

Mr. Dawson liked to walk the stairs instead of taking the elevator up to his home. He was none the wiser of Connor's following him, as intended.

Travis home was completely quiet. The origami birds that still hung from his ceiling swayed aimlessly in the air conditioner created breeze. The keys made little sound as the scarred man opened his door. The room was a hint hotter than usual.

It only took him a moment to realize that his window across the way in the sitting room was opened a crack. He listened to the area around him. Nothing.

What few valuables Travis owned were all home. Everything was in it's rightful place. He still listened for something, someone- but no one ever sounded, not until they were right behind him.

A man in a swat uniform pressed the trigger of his tranquilizer gun. Having had good hearing all of his life, Travis heard the pressure put on that gun's trigger. Travis turned suddenly, waving his hand. A few of the birds hooked to the ceiling ripped from it and flying down into the intruder's face, even through the mask. He fell back in surprise and pain, pulling the trigger of his tranquilizer gun again, and again. The dart passed Travis and hit another soldier.

The strings on the origami birds didn't hold them anymore, Travis' mind did.

A young woman in black leaped over the couch. Travis dodged out of the way, paper birds going through the air like small rockets- piercing her thick bullet proof vest.

There was another woman, that entered from his bedroom. He waved his hand suddenly and she flew up off her feet, over his couch, through his television set, air swooshing by her as she slammed into into the wall behind the tv. The force of her body going against the wall crushed some of the brick.

The young woman with paper in her chest, had pulled the fowl birds out out. She took a step up to Travis' back. Before she could grab his throat, he turned to her, blocking her hands. He moved to knee her in the chest. She quickly blocked his leg with her own.

She was powerful, slayer powerful. He fell back into his couch as she back handed him across the face, blood running down his top lip. Within the second he waved his hand, ripping her up off her feet and into the ceiling, through that and into the apartment above them. Plaster rained down from over head.

The first slayer picked him up and threw him into his own kitchen counter. He snapped off a large chunk of the counter with his body as he went back- finally falling into the refrigerator, denting it. The slayer pulled a knife from her pocket, throwing it at his throat so that he could push her away again. The knife stopped before it could pierce his jugular. She came up and kicked him in the stomach. He grabbed her leg and moved to snap it. She pulled back.

She punched him once, twice. He blocked the second one, punching her quickly, twice with his right hand. She backhanded him back into the sink. Quickly she grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him upwards into the cabinets. He grabbed her throat.

The second slayer that he had thrown into the apartment above him, leaped down out of the whole her body had created. Her face was bleeding.

As the slayer Travis held the neck of began to slam her fists into his chest. He grabbed the sides of her head, snapping her neck with ease. He dropped her.

Suddenly the second slayer in the room slammed a large syringe into his throat. He stopped. He'd been preparing to throw her, but all she received was a generous sized push back. He felt weak, tired all of a sudden. The last doze or two of paper birds in his room pulled off the ceiling- his hand stretched out to them. He looked like he was pleading to pieces of origami art.

As he fell to the floor, the bird shot through the back of the slayer. She gasped, the paper having ripped through her Kevlar vest, her clothes, the first layer of skin, and into her flesh. She fell backwards as the sharp pieces of paper pierced vital organs that could be reached around the bone. One of the original soldiers in their SWAT uniforms stood. He pulled his masked from his face and we didn't know him. He looked tired.

Connor heard the battle from outside the apartment building and across the street. Considering the information that clicked together in his head- he didn't intervene.

Travis was eventually dragged out of his apartment and into one of those government vehicles that Connor had recognized. Travis Dawson would either be killed, or put into a program- that's how it worked, Connor remembered that much.

He remembered the faces of Waltz and Shrella as they looked down at him in some sterile room.

Things were sort of surreal for Wes. Rebeca wrote down what she knew about her pregnancy on the her dry erase board. Wesley looked like he was just waiting patiently, silently for her words when in fact with the weighing Travis situation, he kind of forgot in an instant how to smile. He didn't know how frightened or happy he should be.

Rebeca wrote on her board, I'm 14 weeks along doctor says. The baby his healthy.

Still he didn't smile, and that frightened Rebeca.

She wrote, Are you mad at me? It's yours.

He shook his head no, “I'm not in the slightest bit angry.”

“You're not, happy,” she mumbled.

“Shh...” he replied. “I'm indescribably happy.”

She smiled softly. They watched each other for a moment, both with loving eyes. Rebeca put her marker and board down on the bed. Wesley watched her. He felt curious, faintly so.

She sat back, taking his right hand into both of hers. He'd been sitting in a chair by the bed for quite sometime and had to lean forward to reach her. She placed his gentle hand on her stomach. Her skin was warm underneath the hospital gown. He was happy that she was warm, alive, and seemingly well- he loved that. Her hands were soft and warm around his one. Underneath his palm, through her hospital gown, he could feel a place where her stomach rose up a bit. He'd never noticed the round place before.

“I didn't notice until now,” she managed to whisper. “Your baby is there.”

When Wesley finally remembered how to smile back he almost choked from the rush he received.

Angel waited patiently outside of Wesley's room. He no longer eavesdropped on the couple inside. Instead of eavesdropping he patiently waited for Connor's return. He had to wonder though, would his son automatically kill the bad guy? The guy deserved something but was the payment for what he did death?

Connor found his way back to the hospital, to tell Angel what had happened. He went to his father's side with his hands in his pockets. Did he looked someone that had just murdered? No.

“What happened?” Angel questioned.

“I don't think we have to worry about him for awhile,” Connor replied.

“Why?” Angel asked, rising up from the seat he'd taken by the door. “Did you...?”

“No,” Connor looked down at the floor. “Someone got to him before us. The people that took me, took him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “I'm completely sure.” He heard what happened in that room. Connor knew what his gut told him was true.

“I don't know whether or not I want to be relieved, or concerned,” Angel sighed, leaning back against the wall behind him. “The new watcher's council thing- they're a threat.”

“We can't do anything about them yet dad.”

Angel frowned seriously. “Maybe.”

“They're a strong force,” Connor stated.

Angel looked up to his son, “We're not natural, like that guy. I could sense it when he walked out of the room. Just because we try to force evil into the depths of L.A. or hell, even into their hands, that doesn't mean they'll stay away. They already took you.”

“I know that. It's just, we need a plan but...they're bigger than us,” Connor explained.

“I'm never going to believe that they'll stay away from us,” Angel finished, “- that they'll just leave us be.”