Title: Shaping What We've Become

Author: Alicia "Kamitose" Hackney

Summary: Fred murdered Professor Seidel, Angelus finds out, and now everything's changed. Wesley/Fred fic. Character siring.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: None of the characters mentioned in this piece of fiction belong to me. They belong to the cast and crew of Angel, especially Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy (Grrr-Arg!) and Fox.

Distribution: As long as I am credited, and as long as you ask (and let me know once it's posted) then I don't care where its distributed. BUT you have to ask. You can email me at

Author's Note: This takes place between the season 4 episodes Release and Orpheus. The fic is really two parts. A Narrative from Wesley and Fred, each their own respective telling of the same chain of events. Chapter 1 is Wesley's POV and Chapter 2 will be Fred's. This is my first time writing a fic of this sort. Also, I probably won't be able to finish Grasping for Control. Sorry guys, but I can assure you that I WILL finish this one. So anyway, on with Shaping What We've Become.

She is a murderer.

There is no proper, no delicate, no sugar-coated way of wording it. Winifred Burkle is a murderer and it is all because I couldn't be the voice of reason and tell her it was wrong. That makes me an accomplice to the murder. Not because I didn't stop her. No, because I helped her do it.

We plotted the whole thing over some Guinness, and now, there is blood on both our hands...

This was merely the first building block in the downward spiral that has been shaping what we've become. Two darkened souls synonymous with all that is grey in this world. Only her's is shifting into the darker ends, quite possibly bordering on black, while mine generally stays in a stasis of neutral, morally ambiguous, grey.

It is her black that worries me.

That night that she murdered Professor Seidel was the night that her wide-eyed innocence was also killed. This I fear I should take the blame for as I was the one who encouraged it while my better judgment lied idle. Or maybe I wanted her to be in the darkness with me. Either way, I brought her down. That is all that there is to it. I brought the love of my life down to my deplorable level.

And even now I can't help but wonder if my lack of good judgment is was brought us both to this current situation. Part of me screams for this to be just some strange delusion brought on from one too many rounds of whiskey. That she is still the sweet Southern Belle with a penchant for all things science and math and an insatiable appetite. Another part of me knows that this perversion that stands before me is not only real but partially my doing. That part is tearing at me. And yet the part that really gets me, is the part of me that longs for this perversion before me. That craves it. That part of me scares me beyond words.

And she knows it.

The insatiable appetite is still there. But its a new and different kind of hunger. This hunger I can not take credit for. I did not do this to her. I would certainly never even dream of letting anything like this happen to her. But it did. And I wasn't there to stop it, not that I could if I was there... but I would have tried. That's what matters right? No. Nothing matters because nothing will change the outcome. She's been touched by an angel.

And the Latin for angel is Angelus.

Angelus, how I have come to loathe that name. That name and all the damnation that follows it around.

I wonder what name she will take now that she's been... taken from the fold.

It's really not all that uncommon for a vampire to change their names after they are sired. After all, a name is what identifies us as who we are. To have no name is to have an identity. To lose a name and take a new one is to become anew. Its not a practice strictly reserved for the undead. When a woman marries they lose their last name and takes that of her intended. Thus shedding who she was and starting anew with her new name and life. If only it were that innocent in all cases.

I can't help but wonder, as I watch her pace about the room, had the actions we took that night been different. Had she not come over. Had she taken Gunn up on his offer of hot coacoa and comfort. Had I said no.

No... I hate that word. Every time it is uttered it closes a door. I should have closed the door that night. Should have locked it too.

Now that I really think about it, she isn't pacing the room at all. She's stalking it, like a cat. A sleek cat. A deadly cat playing mind games with the mouse. Looks like I'm the mouse.

Maybe Father was right. I am useless. A failure to all those around me. Everything I touch turns to fodder in my hands. Everything...

And now she is in front of me. This anticipation is killing me. She is drawing nearer to touch me and I can feel her breath on my neck. She doesn't need to breathe, is she doing this to humour me?

I'm going to close my eyes now and wait for the embrace to occur. Go with the tide and let things take their course. I chose to keep this door open after all.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

She asks me such a terrible question. She even has her mind games down to a science...

And of course, I want to say yes, and yet every ounce of my being is screaming no. My blood screams it.

And yet I do nothing and I can feel her incisors penetrate the delicate skin of my neck, right where my scar of betrayal lies. And all I can do is wait. And stare. And fail.

Oh Fred... what have I done?