Wes is the character I write the most often.

Most writers have a character like that. 22 of the 36 stories I've posted involve Wes. Not including WIPs. I have perhaps one non-Wes WIP.

Jeebus.

Most writers have a character like that.

Not me. I think the only characters I've written with any sort of consistency are Buffy and the Fraser/Kowalski pairing.

Now, reading, on the other hand.

More Gunn/Wes. I'm slipping slightly into schmoopville. Thems the breaks.

That's right. Fred was here for the first anniversary. He doesn't remember much of what he said or did, but he does remember that most of it was ugly, and that Fred decided it was the last straw. So his ex-girlfriend has called their mutual ex-boyfriend to help him deal with the anniversary of his ex-lover's demise. There's that word again. The pendulum has swung back to farce. Really, how can it be avoided?

Gunn glances around, takes in the half-empty bottle and the tidy arrangement of personal effects. "Looks like you already did," he mutters.

Wesley waits for the disgust, the blame, the usual barrage of accusations, but none of it is forthcoming. Gunn just looks at him, his face troubled. It's possible for them to just stand and stare each other into exhaustion. Theirs was a fragile peace, upset by Fred and never fully reassembled. He hasn't spoken to Gunn in... it must be six months, give or take. That would be the last time professional needs overcame personal dislikes. Sad, really. All of it, and suddenly, he's too tired to play this game again. He wanders over to the sofa and sits down, considering his response carefully.

"Thank you, Gunn." He's aware that he must look a mess. He's also aware that he'll be fine come morning, if slightly worse for wear. He doesn't need help, or supervision, or company. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, no matter what Fred thinks."

"Fred thinks you're going to spend the night beating yourself up again. You telling me that's not what's going on?"

"However masochistic it may seem, it's not something that requires the presence of a nursemaid."

"Might require the presence of a friend."

"Is that what you are? You have a funny way of defining friendship, Gunn."

Gunn doesn't answer. In fact, he leaves the room. When he comes back, he's carrying a glass of water and a plate of dry brown bread.

"You eaten today?" he asks. Wesley thinks for a second, and shakes his head. "Didn't think so."

The plate gets set in front of him, and the water gets pushed into his hand. Apparently, he has a nursemaid in spite of his objections. Typical of Gunn to not take him at his word.

"Angel wants to know if you'll come back to work for us." The abrupt change in subject takes a moment to process. So Gunn has ulterior motives. It's not the first time Angel has requested he return to the agency, though it is the first time he's used a middleman.

He's thought about it. He's not certain how he managed to stay there for as long as he did, but the crisis forced them all together, and the settling of dust in the aftermath took some time. Every single time, he reaches the same conclusion.

"I can't do that." Too many memories, too much blood (literal and figurative, on Angel's lips and Wesley's hands, no matter that it's not what happened, it's still what he saw, still what he feels), and not enough time nor enough space.

"Yeah. Didn't figure you would. Can't blame you. If I was in your shoes--"

"You're not."

"I have been."

"Alonna. But it's not the same, not really. Alonna was turned. Lilah wasn't. Alonna was good, or at least fighting for it. Lilah wasn't. Alonna was worth grieving over. Was Lilah?"

Deb, I know this is far behind, but:

Everyone is not saying a word about last installment of Needfire and I used Pink Floyd and I need to know if it works there.

I liked the way you handled the dreaminess quite a bit. Reminded me of alleged activities of my almost forgotten youth. I had one, possibly weird, question.

You said they made love in the doorway. I want to know, standing up? laying across the lintel? On the steps? Just a little more detail?

"Are you asking me?" Gunn raises a brow, and looks ready to answer.

"No. The question is rhetorical." It isn't. It's just part of what he's been trying to sort out for himself for the last couple of years, and he doesn't need to hear all the arguments against it from someone else's lips.

"Fine. You want to just keep on hating yourself, go right ahead." Gunn's pacing around the place, looking uncomfortable and jumpy. "I told Fred I'd make sure you're okay, told Angel I'd talk to you, so I guess I'm..." he stops in front of the table, stops talking mid-sentence and turns to look at Wesley, guilt and accusation and question in his eyes. "Shit. Fred didn't mention--"

"Fred didn't know." They didn't really talk about Lilah. Or about anything personal. Just books and theory and all the things she couldn't, or chose not to, share with Gunn. "I didn't tell her."

"Typical." Gunn's back to familiar territory, all the easier to lash out with. "You keep all this crap to yourself, expect us to read your mind."

"Fifteen minutes," he says quietly.

"What?"

"It took you all of fifteen minutes to find a way to assign me the blame." It's not really fair of him to point this out, but it's his home, and it's his loss, his guilt they're talking about, and he doesn't especially want someone else's input on either. Besides, it's not like he asked for company, so he doesn't need to be polite.

"You shut me out first, Wes." There's an exhaustion in Gunn's voice he hasn't heard before, a quiet matter-of-factness to it. He gestures at the table. "Did you know when we found her?"

"Not until I went back for her things. Knowing Lilah, she wouldn't have bothered to tell me." He leans forward and grabs a piece of the bread, pulling it into smaller pieces and worrying those into little balls.

"That why you went off the deep end?"

"Part of it. If that's why she stayed... I told her to go underground, to go somewhere safe. If she stayed because of me, because of us, because she might have been... then I'm the one responsible for what happened."

"Right. Because the rest of us don't have free will." Gunn lets out a mirthless laugh. "I'm remembering why it is I dumped your ass."

"I wasn't talking about us, Gunn." He sets the mutilated bread back on the plate, and starts in on the next piece. "I'm not sure why you're even bringing it up. Or why you're still here, for that matter."

"Maybe because I still love you."

That isn't the response he was expecting. Maybe the ulterior motives weren't what he thought they were. When he looks up, he realizes Gunn looks just as shocked at what he said as Wesley was to hear it.

He sighs and stops his fidgeting. "It's a bad habit. Loving me, that is. It has an alarming tendency towards fatality."

Plei, "Alone"? I think your spellchecker hates you.

Possible. Where is it? It's more possible I just typed it wrong.

Also, Steph, I've been thinking about your story. I was wondering about Buffy's voice. It's pretty good for this season, but, this season she's been kind of generic. My eyes glaze over when she starts lecturing. I really liked the point where she got harsh with the SiT because it didn't read monotone. However, I'm thinking specifically of the point where she's telling Faith that they've tried to kill one another in the past but now they have to work together. Faith has already said she's come to help, so Buffy is doing her boring speechifying thing again, at least that's how it read to me.

D'oh! Found it, Connie. Thanks.