Do not own Angel, Buffy, or The Crow.... obviously.
No one came. Wesley had pleaded and begged for their help to save her, to save the women he loved, his Fred. The high and mighty Slayer Buffy with her oh so knowledgeable Watcher Giles dismissed it as a ploy, neither of which had ever believed in him as a pompous, inexperienced Watcher let alone as a member of the Wolfram and Hart. So no-one came.
But Fred was gone, she’d been hollowed out, he watched her die in his arms trying to be brave but ultimately failing.
Here he was again, he knew the odds, they needed help. There were many Slayers that could help in the battle, but once again Giles disbelieved them. That their fight was a fake, Giles wouldn’t even allow him to contact Faith.
They were alone…..
He was alone… again.
He found a rage within himself that had been building toward the “Scoobies” for their insults, their humiliations, the closest connection to any of them had be Faith. Faith who even after torturing him held a closer relationship to him over the Scoobies and was more trusted to them than him….
Fred was here…. No it wasn’t Fred… Illyria. She was confused, unable to understand feelings, let alone mourning.
They had left him.. They betrayed them… He would survive, he would make them pay, he would……
He couldn’t breathe, trapped in a box of darkness. He needed to escape. Tearing his way out into the night air, his eyes searching the night until he found it, a weathered headstone…. His headstone. The terrible thought rushed into his mind, was he in fact a Vampire the very thing he spent so long hunting. Wesley's hands reached back into the hole, retrieving a large shard of his own coffin. He paused, self hatred coursing through his body as he closed his eyes and plunged the wood into his own heart. Waiting to turn to dust….
Nothing happened. He cautiously opened his eyes, there sticking out of his heart was the shard and sitting on his grave stone was a dark shape looking quizzically at him, as if amused with Wesley’s actions.