Title: CFU
        Author: Jedi Nic (JediNic@bigfoot.com)
        8 March 2002
        Spoilers: Season 3 - "Sleep Tight"
        Disclaimer: The characters and situations contained within are the 
        property of Joss et al.
        Rating: PG-13
        Summary: Wes thinks.
        Distribution: List archives
        Notes: Tiny ficlet, inspired by the most recent episode.


        CFU
        ------

        Well, that didn't exactly turn out how I'd planned it.

        Kind of an understatement, really. I'm standing here, well, floating, to 
        be precise, and looking at a body on the ground. My body. My body with a 
        surprising amount of blood still pooling around my head even though it's 
        quite obvious that I'm dead.

        How's that for a complete screw up, Dad?

        I wonder how long I've been lying here. There. You know what I mean. How 
        long does it take the spirit to leave the body, for cognizant thought to 
        form and actually realise that one has passed from the realm of the 
        living into the dead? In all my studies I never thought to study that 
        particular fact. Now I wish I had.

        But I suppose it doesn't matter, now, does it? I'm dead and Connor's 
        alive and the whole world is going to hell because of a prophecy and 
        there's not a thing I can do to stop it.

        Don't know why I bothered, really.

        There's a noise and I lift my head, staring in the direction where there 
        should be sirens but there's not. I expect someone will be along 
        eventually to find what remains of me. The last thing I want is for my 
        corpse to be eaten by rats. What is it they used to say? Live fast, die 
        young, and leave a good looking corpse?

        And now I'm quoting clichés. I suspect this whole death thing has done 
        strange things my thought processes. Still, I admit I do make quite a 
        good looking corpse. If you can ignore the blood, that is. They should 
        be able to fix me up without too much trouble for the funeral.

        Well, that particular thought gave me a chill.

        Funeral, I can see it now, with the people weeping around my grave and 
        unable to believe I'm gone.

        Only....

        ...only...

        ...who would go? Certainly not my father. Most of my family doesn't even 
        know where I am, which perhaps says more about me than about them, 
        but....

        And then there's - no, there's no one. Not even Cordy would forgive me. 
        As for....

        (i can't believe this is happening to me how can I be dead this can't be 
        real all i ever wanted to do was the right thing)

        ...oh god, I don't want to die.

        Not like this. Because it's so cold and totally alone and it's dark and 
        no one's coming.

        There's still time, isn't there? Look, the blood is still trickling from 
        my neck and that means my heart's still doing something. I might not be 
        breathing anymore (breathe, Wesley, dammit!) but I'm here, I'm not 
        leaving this body until I'm forced to move on and then even then I'm 
        going to fight it.

        Gunn, you were supposed to come back for me.

        Something hits me, it's nothing I can see, but it's a substantial blow 
        of cold and attached to the sensation is the growing dread, and 
        something is whispering in my ear that it's time to go.

        Are those footsteps?

        Something's pounding in my ears, it's a wind, but nothing's moving. 
        Certainly not the body on the ground. Not a door, not the random dust 
        that should be skittering across the ground and I feel the *pull* that's 
        calling me and dragging me away and I shouldn't fear it but I do. Maybe 
        this is what happens when no one cares. Because I still hoped, I wanted 
        him to stop me. He knew me. I thought he loved me, once.

        The blood stops.

        No one's coming.

        --- 
        End.