Title: Just for a Moment
Author: DangerMouse
E-mail: dangermouse42@yahoo.com
Summary: At the end of "Sleep Tight," Wes can't do much else besides think.
Spoilers: "Sleep Tight"
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: If you want it, you can have it. Just send me an e- mail and let me know where it's going.
Feedback: Love it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did. Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy, and whoever else does. I'm just messing around with them for a while.
A/N: Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's been done. It's been done a lot. Everybody and their Uncle has written a story on Wes's thoughts at the end of "Sleep Tight." Well, here's my guess. So there.


It didn't hurt.

That surprised me. I always imagined neck wounds would be the quite painful. We, humans that is, have a large number of pain receptors in our necks. Not as many as other parts of our body, but still, a reasonable amount. But no, there was no pain. More shock than anything else.

My hand flew to my neck more out of reflex than anything else. Years and years of intense Watcher training, I suppose. Neck wounds are covered in great detail and very early in the training, for obvious reasons. I always suspected I'd be brought down my some kind of bleeding wound to my neck, though not necessarily under these circumstances. Cover the wound quickly. That's the rule. Clasp your hand over it as tightly as possible, yet still allowing yourself some room to breathe. Keep your head clear and try to think positively. Watchers are never alone, after all. You always have your partner, or, if you're lucky, your Slayer near by. The Council always knows where you are, if you report in like you're supposed to. We'll be there, Wesley. We'll always be there. Even if it's just to drive a stake through your unbeating heart for your benefit. Just make sure your affairs are in order, just in case.

Well, no Council here any more. No one here any more, really.

Not a horrible way to die, if you think about it. It's over fairly quickly. The brain gets deprived of oxygen early on, so you're not slowly bleeding to death, like say from a gunshot wound to the belly. That's a slow death. This way, it's over almost before you know what hit you.


I hope they find Connor in time. Even if they don't, I know, in my heart, the worst had to happen eventually. We're all targets. Yes, we go looking for evil, trying to thwart it, drive it away. It's the choice we made. But, we're also targets by association. Being tied to Angel, in any way that is good, is a death sentence. We're all means to an end, where his enemies are concerned. But I could live with that, can live with that, even it's only for a few more minutes. But Connor never had that choice. He was an innocent beyond all innocents.

Poor kid.

I hope I didn't hurt Lorne too badly. From what I remember about his species, a little beating shouldn't take him too long to recover from. I regret having to do it. He wouldn't understand, couldn't understand. He has such a warm heart and pure soul, a better person than all of us, even where most people are concerned. Certainly a better person than I. But my soul was damned long before any of this. Long before I joined Angel and his crew, long before I joined the Watchers' Council. But that was another life, another time. Nothing worth dwelling on now.

Hmmm.... I can't seem to feel my body any more. The ground seems to have disappeared. That's interesting.

Angel will never forgive me. Good. I don't deserve forgiveness. I knew the minute I decided to visit Holtz the first time I was beyond redemption. I did this for his, Angel's, benefit as well as the boy's. If the prophecy were to come to be, if he were to kill his own son - it would destroy him. The world needs Angel, needs him a lot more than it needs some washed up middle-aged demon chaser who probably would have gotten killed in a year or two anyway, given my stellar track record. No, give Angel his anger. Give him something to fight with, something to get him through the tough times ahead. Let him hate me with all of his being.

It's the least I could do.

I hope Gunn and Fred are okay. I don't know if things will last between them, but now that I'm going to be dead, I can hope they will. My jealously and spite won't be an obstacle for them any more. Gunn obviously wanted a smart, attractive person to share his life, with all the quirks and mannerisms he's come to adore. Couldn't be helped that he didn't chose the gender I would have preferred. Shouldn't have expected him to, really.

Cordy will make it. I know she will. She's stronger than the lot of us combined. She'll help them get over the loss of Connor and through the anger at me. She's a sturdy girl with more sense than she lets herself believe. Groo will be a good addition to the team as well, now that I remember him. Good timing, that Pylean has.

I should just pull my hand away, let my soul drift down to Hell where it belongs. But my body refuses to listen to my mind, the training I've received overriding any of my personal wishes. Ah, well. Won't be long now, anyway.

My vision has dimmed to almost nothing, but I swear I'm hearing voices. Probably just my dying brain playing tricks on me. It almost sounds like Gunn, but I doubt he would be here so soon. Something that sounds like a siren goes off in the distance. I wonder who else died tonight. That's the way it goes, I suppose. We can't save everyone. We can't even save ourselves.

I think I'll just close my eyes for a moment now. I feel very tired and the loud noises surrounding me aren't helping any. Just for a moment, I'll close my eyes. Let it all slip away.

Just for a moment.

~the end~

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