Maturation by Criss Moody

Date: November 11th, 2001
Disclaimer: Blame Numfar.
Rating: PG
Summary: Some things don't change.
Pairing/Character: Wesley
Spoilers: Through Offspring.
Feedback: Yes, please, lots.
Notes: Unbetaed. Thanks to ol for pointing out Fred's last name.
Improv #29 century -- unleash -- ground -- melt

Wesley wished for snow covering the ground as far as the eye could see. Days where nothing existed but the prayer for the melt, waiting by the pond to see the ice crack and free the limitless dark below.

In short, he wished to be far away from Southern California. He felt a bit of a wanker for wishing this way. He was hardly the man who hoped for the moon and then complained when he got it.

By many definitions of the word, Wesley had achieved success. He had a job that paid enough to make rent and a few extra fripperys. He enjoyed the company of several people he was proud to call friend. He loved doing his job, with those friends, as some men enjoyed kicking back with a fine wine. The experience was something to savor, something to swirl around on the tastebuds, only to swallow to make way for another experience.

All these little joys, however, did not eradicate old demons. Old silly demons who screeched and howled in Wesley's mind. For years now, they had been reduced to a slight whine, and occasionally a red mist floating out from the mental box Wesley had finally succedded shutting them into. But that was all and it provided Wesley with a joyous self-confidence, albeit a false one. He'd managed to quite neatly forget, or at least to ignore, his true self. The horror that lay swimming at the heart of Wesley Wyndam-Price.

Wesley was not good. Not smart, not witty, not worth more than sharp smack of the leather strap his father had been so fond of using on the young boy. Father thought that Wesley didn't understand. He did. He was evil. Like those tiny imps he'd seen last Christmas or the vampires who had crashed the Watcher's annual board meeting. Something in Wes clearly had to be destroyed and his father had taken the job. Beat it out of young Wesley with words, leather, and starvation. No, Wesley, you'll get dinner once you can tell me all the ways to kill a Borago demon because then I shall know that you are willing to kill one of your own. Centuries of Watcher blood in your veins and you fumble something as simple as a potion, for shame my boy. Over and over and over again until one day it became second nature for Wesley to fail at something, a missed answer on a test at school, speaking when not spoken to, and simply head for the staircase, lock himself in, and wait for his father. Soon, the dark became his friend and things settled into a comfortable rhythm.

Ah, please don't pity him. Wes did figure out he's not a demon. He's not sure that he's 'good' but he's not inherently evil. Except one cannot get rid of such things easily. Wesley could more easily become a tiny green-eyed blonde Slayer than he could believe he's a good man. At the very least, he has figured out that he does not deserve half of what the people around him have dished out. Angel does not own him. Gunn cannot ignore lying to Wesley. Cordy can be his friend and not his love. Fred can be nothing to him. He can see his self-worth in any other area, but not where Ms. Burkle is concerned.

She's lovely, smart, and fragile. Wesley and all of his history and 'issues' (Americans and their wonderful euphemisms) would crush the steadily unfurling of Fred's personality. She had her own place under the staircase, but she can be saved. Fred will someday see her own worth. Wesley does not want to touch that, sully that. She deserves what he's never had. Life, love, a family, and happiness.

In this land of eternal summer, Wesley grows uneasy every fall. His body tells him the world is shutting down, dying, but the sway of the palm trees and the blue sky above tell another story. If things don't die, how can they be reborn? If the earth does not harden and fall into ruin, how can the spring be unleashed? What's the point?

Wes made a mental note to take a drive north soon. Far into the mountains of Northern California. He would find a pond or a lake. Watch the still water and know it had unseen depths. And if he watched long enough, he would see it freeze.

All things must change, in order to survive.