Title: Father's Little Dividend
Author: Kiwikatipo
Rating: R
Spoilers/Setting: AtS season 5
Summary: What if Wesley wasn't the only one to get his memory back in Origin?
Notes: If anyone insane reading this, wants to dial Faith’s telephone number, I got if off the Scotland Yard website. So I wouldn’t advise it.


Father’s Little Dividend

Part One

Faith was having the strangest dream.

Faith found herself back in Wesley’s apartment, around the time he sprung her out of prison to bring Angelus in. She lay sideways on his bed. Wesley thrust slowly in and out of her. Her back against his chest. He made love to Faith, treating her like the most freaking precious thing on the planet. Being so very careful with her because of her rapidly healing injuries. Gentle. Her resulting climax from their union, was a warm soft wave rushing over her. He stroked her hair. His arm placed over her protectively. It was over.

The dream scene switched. Faith pressed against a wire netting fence in a back alley. Wesley hammering inside of her, it wasn’t making love. He fucked her good and hard. Fucked her like he hated her. She dug her nails into his back flesh. Her teeth nipped along the jagged scar on his neck. Her orgasm ripped through her body like a god damn nuclear explosion.

Faith was in a dusty back room of the Hyperion. They were kissing good bye. His kiss, his hands moving on her body, were making her feel on fire. She could never get enough of this new man, her conservative watcher, transformed into the lover she craved. Wesley broke off their fevered embrace. Tearing himself away from her.

His normally cold blue eyes softened, as he gazed upon her. His words were delivered with the utmost sincerity.

“Come back to me Faith. When you’ve finished helping Buffy and Giles in Sunnydale, we’ll make a fresh start. Canada seems a good prospect, Vancouver springs to mind. Anywhere you want sweetheart. There’s nothing for us here in California anymore. Definitely nothing for me.”

“Yeah, Canada sounds a plan.” Faith's face shone radiant with happiness. “Better than your earlier lame suggestion of Mexico. That’s for freaking real. I gotta say good bye to Angel now. You know he’s gonna be too embarrassed to say he can smell you all over me. Not like how he couldn’t shut up about it as Angelus.”

They were kissing, lustfully entranced with one another once more.

Part Two

The baby woke her up. Faith rose out of her double bed. She now slept in it alone. She stumbled blearily over to the crib on the opposite side of the bedroom.

“Hey Richard.” Faith soothed softly. “It’s okay, little dude. You’re hungry and got a wet diaper, but Mommy can fix that.” Faith changed her child with experienced hands, put her infant to her breast.

Why was her baby white?

Faith didn’t get it. She screwed Wood in Sunnydale. Her period was late the next month. Robin Wood instantly stepped up to the plate about it. Sticking by her, holding her hand throughout her labor. Letting go of her hand abruptly, when her pale skinned, blue eyed infant emerged, bloodied, and soon screaming from between her thighs.

No point getting further DNA tests done. Not once it was established that Robin could not be the father, so who the hell was?

That weird but hot dream just then, of having sex with a made-over dangerous Wesley aside. A Wesley that Faith related to somehow. Faith's sex life had been confined to Robin Wood solely, since she escaped from her Californian women’s penitentiary.

Robin seemed enough for Faith, the first few months after her escape from prison. Having a steady boyfriend definitely guaranteed more sex than having one night stands. Once she found out she was pregnant, Faith tried her hardest to make their relationship work. But it became increasingly difficult for them to find common ground during her last trimester.

After Richard had been born, Robin didn't believe that she hadn't screwed anyone else, during the week he had been laid up in hospital, after fighting on the Hellmouth. Nor did anyone else Faith could tell. The hell with them.

With Richard unexpectedly entering her life, Faith had been preoccupied with her new, screaming, crapping, constantly hungry, bundle of joy, not to mention recovering from the whole traumatic experience of childbirth. Sex sadly became the last thing on her mind.

And now three months later and fully physically recovered? Faith never intended to inflict her child with a series of deadbeat 'uncles' like her mother had on her.

Part Three

A far more boring dream happened. Faith stood in Buffy’s bedroom. Shaken by her encounter with The First Evil, appearing to her as The Mayor. The First, who cruelly informed her Wesley could never love her. Her ex-watcher would always be in love with Fred. But heck, by jeepers, if Faith truly thought there was a chance of happiness with Wesley, why wasn’t she in L.A. with him now?

Wood came in to her room. Faith confessed to him her doubts, in her ability to lead the potential slayers.

“I’m an ex-con who didn’t finish high school.” She admitted frustrated.

“Yeah, well, I’m the principal of a school where nobody finished.” Wood shrugged. “And I’m completely out my league in this.”

“Well, I hear otherwise.” Faith corrected him. Robin was a decent guy.

Wood and Faith shared a glance of mutual sympathy and comradeship.

“So tomorrow, then?” Wood confirmed.

“Yeah tomorrow.” Faith smiled. “Goodnight Wood, and hey, thanks for the pep rally dude.”

“Anytime.” Wood left her room and closed the door behind him. Faith climbed into bed alone.

But it couldn'ta happened like that, could it?

Part Four

Faith woke up at four:forty three am. What the Fuck! Those dreams. They were real! Her real memories came flooding back. So who performed the mind rape? Wesley? No way.

What was the time in L.A.? Who cared? Faith picked up the bedside telephone, dialing the international directory service. There was only Wesley's home number listed apparently.

Faith got Wesley’s answer phone. She left a message. “Hey Wes. It’s Faith. Call me on 44 020 7230 1212. Recognize the International Dialing Code? Yeah, I’m in your mother country, lover. We seriously need to talk.”

Faith got out of bed again. She went into her living room and poured herself a glass of bourbon with shaking hands. The hell with it. Faith went to the top shelf of her kitchen cupboard, taking down her emergency packet of cigarettes. In store at the ready, for a life crisis such as this. She opened the window to the chill April morning. She leaned out, starting to indulge in a much needed nicotine fix.

Part Five

Faith came to the conclusion she developed a relationship with her telephone during this time period. She spent so many hours staring at it, waiting for the freaking thing to ring. How many times did she have to call Wesley, before he returned the favor? He wasn't dead, she was sure of that at least.

She did not expect Wesley to turn up with roses on her front doorstep. She never believed in fairy tales. She wasn't in love with him, never had been. There had been potential for something wonderful between them a year ago. Or maybe a suicide pact, good ole Wes had been living on the edge of sanity back then. But that had been a year ago. Now Richard came first. Faith didn't know what she felt about Wesley these days. No hold on she did, growing fury at the shithead for not contacting her.

The telephone rang. About fucking time. This had better not be another telemarketer.

"Hello Faith? It's Wesley."

No, it was him. Finally.

“Where are your old world manners, Wes? I’ve been calling you nonstop. It’s important.” Faith complained incensed, rattled.

“I’m sorry. I’ve only just got home.” He sounded as if he consumed a lot of alcohol these days. “What’s this regarding, Faith?”

“Something you need to see with your own eyes. You’re working for Wolfram and Hart. So money’s no object right?” Faith began.

“What do you want, Faith?” He now sounded impatient.

“I want you to get on the first flight to London from L.A. International.” Faith instructed brusquely. Her stomach churning with nervous tension. “Just move your ass on this one Wes. I’m so not dealing with this by myself anymore.”

“Dealing with what?” Wesley slurred.

“Just fucking get here and find out!” Faith slammed the phone down. A’hole bastard. Five freaking days it had taken him to get back to her.

Part Six

It took four further days before Wesley emerged bleary eyed, into the arrivals lounge of Heathrow Airport. Not even flying first class could ease the hell of the twelve hour cross Atlantic flight.

He dreaded facing her. Knowing how close they had come to reaching out to achieve happiness with one another. To be met with the cold cautious respectful acknowledgment that she farewelled him with previously, according to his false memories.

What did she want from him? To pick up where they left off? How could they? He wasn't the same person. The ruthless side to his personality the girl found so sexually attractive a year ago, dulled by grief, over consumption of emotional pain numbing scotch. She hadn't to be fair only been drawn to him because of his ruthless streak.

Not caring what she thought about him anymore. Recognizing she was now an adult woman, no longer the disturbed teenager, he floundered out of his depth handling when they first met. He let his guard down with her. Showed her the humor and affection that lay under his surface.

Faith let her defenses slip as well. He always found her physically attractive. Faith now no longer a teenage slut, a psychotic murderer and torturer. Prison forged a new Faith, hard as nails, nobody's fool, able to give. She had been his, for one unforgettable week.

He wanted nothing from her. He refused to bring her down to his level. Apparently Faith stayed out of mischief since Willow magically forged her new identification. He would never have imagined his troubled ex charge, would wind up in England of all places.

Faith came towards him. Dressed surprisingly modestly, in a black sweater and mid calf denim skirt, black knee high boots. Her breasts were bigger, although she still remained slim. She’d cut her hair, to half its previous length. She held an infant wrapped in a green polar fleece blanket in her arms. Was the woman moonlighting as a nanny?

“Hey Wes.” Faith greeted him, her expression unreadable to him. She moved aside the wrap covering the baby’s face. Innocent blue eyes encountered their disillusioned cynical match. “Meet Richard. I’m positive he’s your son.”

Part Seven

“No, I don’t see myself back in Los Angeles for at least ten days.” Wesley said coldly over the telephone. “You can cope without me, Angel.” Wesley grimaced. “So proceed to fly to Rome. You have Gunn bloody holding the fort don’t you?”

Faith rocked the screaming baby backwards and forwards. Richard not making a good first impression at the moment. Picking Wesley up from the airport threw out the baby’s routine.

Faith lowered herself on the living room couch. She raised her sweater. Richard latched onto her bared breast appreciatively. Just like his old man she recollected. Now Faith’s memories had returned to normal.

Wesley sat opposite her on an armchair, stunned. “I can’t believe it.”

“Oh believe it, pal.” Faith stroked her son’s wispy brown hair tenderly. “He’s an alive and kicking manifestation of your lust for me.”

Part Eight

“You were too involved with stick-insect’s blue shell, to contact me. That’s the truth of it.” Faith shrugged without rancor. Faith uncrossed her legs, taking out her cigarette packet from her purse. She needed to smoke outside again.

“Andrew Wells mentioned you were an item with some ex principal. What was I meant to think?” Wesley replied quietly. “You should have rung me at Wolfram and Hart.”

Richard began to wail in the back bedroom.

“He’s unsettled today. He doesn’t normally do this.” Faith walked off into her bedroom to comfort her grizzling son. Sweet Jesus, Wesley was a douche bag. He hadn’t asked to hold the baby or anything.

“Have you told Mum and Dad yet?” Wesley inquired, coming into her bedroom. A baby mobile swung over his firstborn’s cot. A pile of disposable nappies towered ominously on a nearby cabinet. A couple of baby-care magazines were on Faith’s bedside table. This room, not how Wesley imagined Faith’s bedroom naturally should be.

“Your father’s an A grade asshole. An even bigger one than you. Why the fuck would I tell him anything?” Faith replied, picking Richard up.

“I… we have to tell them sometime. They need to know.” Wesley leaned against the doorframe. He watched Faith rock the infant once more. Dear god. This was never how he had thought things would turn out when he made love to her last year. They both thought she’d die any day at the time. Why bother with contraception?

“Need to know what?” Faith mocked harshly. “That you broke me out of jail? Fucked me to kingdom come, after deciding that shooting me up full of Orpheus was an acceptable way to ensnare Angelus? Knocked me up? Then once you got your memory back, you decided to stay in L.A.? Help some ancient anorexic goddess adjust to twenty first century life, instead of contacting me?”

“Why would I think you’d have anything further to do with me?” Wesley pleaded. “I didn’t know you got your memory back also. I didn’t know you’d borne my son. I would never have let you go through this by yourself if I had known.”

“Yeah, if you say so, Wes.” Faith tucked Richard back into bed. She left her bedroom with a flounce of disbelief.

“I would never have abandoned you!” Wesley grabbed her by the arm. He always faced up to his responsibilities, no matter how hard or unpleasant, always had done. “I’m ten years older than you.” He didn’t know why he needed to point that out.

“And?” Faith shook him off. She went back into her living room and poured them both drinks. “Yeah, I’m twenty three and you’re thirty three. Is that why you didn’t call me the second your memories returned? Because I can’t remember the swinging seventies? Or did you mention the decade’s difference between our ages because you don’t you think I can cut it as a Mom?”

“It’s blatantly clear you’ve done a superb job with Richard so far.” Wesley told her. Taking the glass of proffered whiskey gratefully. Only eleven in the morning United Kingdom time. But in L.A. three am. So therefore he wasn’t on a one way road to alcoholism if he indulged in a drink with her now. That was the case surely?

“So far?” Faith raised one jaded eyebrow. Faith feared becoming her mother. Richard must be entirely safe from physical abuse from her. Faith must never allow herself to become an alcoholic. This drink was for… Faith didn’t know what this drink was for, but she fucking well needed it right now.

“Why did you contact me Faith?” he asked her, taking his glasses off and rubbing wearily between his eyes. He never wore his contacts on planes. “You can qualify for a government benefit without my name on the birth certificate over here.”

“I thought…doncha think Richard’s kinda…He’s your son, Wes.” Faith fumed hurt, why wasn’t he falling instantly in love with their child. the way she had? Faith always too defensive, too prepared to be let down by yet another man, to recognize Wesley in severe shock over the whole affair.

“I thought you had the right to know.” Faith stated honestly. She wasn’t gonna be some weirdo drama queen. Hide the fact Wesley had a child from him. “I thought I had the right to some fuckin’ financial support. Not to be a welfare mom. Which I’m not anyways.” Faith announced proudly.

“I’m on paid maternity leave from the New Watchers Council.” Faith twirled her hair with her forefinger. Shit this situation plain damn awkward. Faith didn’t just need Wes’s money. She wanted Richard to have a Dad like other kids. Like she never had. “I’ve already started workin’ part time again, trainin’ new slayers. I’m never gonna do field work again, huh? Look what happened to Wood’s mom.”

Financial support, Wesley mused bitterly. Of course, what else could Faith want from him? To play happy families with her? Well she wanted Wesley himself, it seemed a year ago. Christ, he wanted her too. But now with a year’s separation between them. How could they mend a relationship that had been so tenuously fragile in the first place? That merely lasted one insane week.

Part Nine

They strolled to the corner store together, to buy milk. Wesley asked to take Richard in his carry pack. Wesley kept glancing down at the sleeping child, cuddled against his chest. The baby so tiny, so helpless. Like Connor had been. God what an abortion Wesley made of that whole affair. Why would he do any better with his own child?

Once inside the store, Faith made idle chit chat with the Pakistani shopkeeper. She was obviously a regular customer here. Wesley scanned the headlines of the British newspapers on display underneath the shop counter. Five years away, half the names in the latest scandals he wasn’t familiar with. He missed England.

“Do you want anything?” Faith turned around and asked him.

Did Wesley want anything? Let’s see, to have Fred alive again, always first and foremost on his mind. To have Cordelia and Lilah resurrected would be pleasant as well. To go back in time a year to the back alley outside the L.A. demon bar. To tap himself on the shoulder, moments before his younger self had ravished Faith against a fence to pass over a condom packet.

“Just a packet of aspirin. Here, let me get those items Faith.” Wesley answered, pulling out his wallet. Three months catching up to do, in contributing to her household economy at least.

Part Ten

A week later saw Wesley watching on bemused in the kitchen, as Faith peeled off the plastic wrapping of a supermarket bought cake.

Faith placed the cake on a plate, scraping artistically at the sides of it with a knife.

“Gotta have that pulled out of a cake pan look to it.” Faith rewrapped the chocolate cake in cling wrap.

Wesley shifted Richard in his arms. Placing a kiss on the baby’s head. “Is this really necessary, pretending you made the cake yourself? I don’t think even Mum bakes anymore.”

“My Mom got reported to welfare for less, that and locking me out of the house overnight when I was four.” Faith peeled off the old maternity t-shirt she wore over her best sweater. Wesley could see an inch of fading silver stretch marks on her flat stomach as she raised her arms. “Okay, ready to face the firing squad, lead on watcher of mine.”

“Are you certain you don’t want to put pearls on?” Wesley checked. “Seeing you’re behaving as if you’re meeting the Queen today, instead of my mother?”

“I said I’m ready, what are we still standin’ round for?” Faith demanded, picking up her purse.

“Always were an impatient little thing weren’t you?” Wesley smiled amused. “Oh, by the way Faith, did you look to see if there were nut traces in that cake? Mum has a life threatening peanut allergy.”

“Holy Shit!” Faith rummaged frantically through the kitchen waste container, to check the ingredient list on the wrapper.

“Pulling your leg Faith. We’re going to the car.” Wesley beat a hasty retreat, holding Richard before him as a human shield.

They drove through London suburbia. His parents didn’t live far away from Faith as it happened.

“Turn left here.” Wesley instructed. “On no account is Mum allowed to show you baby photos of me, remember?”

“Killjoy.” Faith chuckled. They got on so well. They made a good team hunting down the most evil vampire that ever not lived. Getting off on torturing low life demons for information together, to be expected. What surprised both of them, was the fact they made just as good a tag team as parents.

Faith parked the car. She carefully retrieved the cake from the back seat. Wesley removed Richard from his baby capsule.

The walked up the immaculate footpath to Wesley’s parents house.

“Christ, your parents’ front yard is perfect, Wes.” Faith hissed, when Wesley rang the front door bell. “Do they get down on their hands and knees and pluck out incoming weeds, with tweezers and a magnifying glass?”

“Only on Tuesdays.” Wesley felt his jaws clenching with the anticipated stress of encountering his father.

The yapping of corgis’ greeted their ears. His father opened the door. Kicking the two dogs out of the way. Faith, Wesley and their son crossed the portal of the Wyndham Pryce family home.

“Hello Wesley, so thoughtful of you to finally grace us with your presence after seven days in the United Kingdom.” His father shook Wesley’s hand formally.

“Good afternoon Miss Lehane.” His father turned to Richard. He touched the baby tentatively under its chin with his forefinger. “Handsome little chap isn’t he? Always thought so.”

Faith smiled politely. Mr Wyndam Pryce had in fact complimented her once on baby Richard’s cuteness factor, after he encountered them on the New Watchers Council premises.

Wesley’s mother naturally turned out to be a faded middle aged anxious woman. Wesley kissed her affectionately on the cheek.

“Hello Mum. This is Faith and Richard, my son.” Wesley still couldn’t get over it. That something so pure and innocent as Richard, resulted from the week of depraved passion he and Faith had indulged in. Their love making hadn’t always been depraved of course. Once or twice it had been quite vanilla.

Afternoon tea was served. The corgis’ had been banished to the garage much to Faith’s relief. She never had been that hot on dogs. Childhood wish for a puppy aside.

“Would you like to see Wesley’s baby photos dear?” Mrs Wyndam Pryce asked timorously of Faith. “So you can see how much Richard resembles him?”

Faith allowed a cruel smile cross her features, she glanced over at a mortified Wesley. “Yeah, I’d love to Barbara.”

‘Bitch.’ Wesley mouthed to Faith silently.

“Come into the study my boy.” Wesley’s father clapped him on the shoulder. “You were always good at Ancient Babylonian, or so your mother insists. Tell me what you make of this prophecy.

Wesley left his mother and Faith pouring over an old photo album. He walked into his father’s study.

“It doesn’t surprise me of course, that you would lack the discipline to refrain from embarking on a personal relationship with your slayer.” His father began immediately, the minute the door shut behind them. “Has happened before in the past. At least the girl was over the age of consent in your case.”

Wesley leaned against his father’s desk, waiting for the inevitable.

“So are you intending to fight for custody?” His father demanded. “You have at your disposal all the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart. You can’t seriously expect your bastard to remain in that convicted murderer's care. You have to face your responsibilities Wesley.”

“Father, I have never shirked my responsibilities.” Wesley sighed. His father would always be a complete cunt sadly. “No, I am not fighting Faith for custody. I’m probably going to move back over here however, so I can be more involved with Richard’s upbringing.”

“You’ll take a position on the New Watcher’s Council then? We’re far less choosey these days.” His father shuffled papers on his desk inarticulately. He wanted Wesley to come home. Would never tell the boy that of course.

“I’m not sure yet.” Wesley replied. There was only thing he was certain of, ensuring his parents never got guardianship of Richard, if something happened to Wesley or Faith.

In the living room, Faith paused at the photo of Wesley in school uniform. Smiling proudly at the camera, displaying his head boy badge. God, Wes aged eighteen. The same age she was, when they had first met. He looked so young. Her fingers touched the two dimensional image for a second.

“I suppose that’s where you’ll be sending Richard.” Mrs Wyndam Pryce queried. “The Watchers Academy?”

“I… let’s get Richard through kindergarten first.” Faith suggested. No freaking way was she ever sending her kid to a boarding school.

“’Richard’s’ such a lovely name. What made you choose it?” Mrs Wyndam Pryce asked approvingly. She worried a girl from Faith’s clearly dubious background, would possibly have chosen something completely god awful.

“Yes.” said Wesley re-entering the room with his father, quickly removing the photo album. Before Faith could see what a prize twat Wesley looked, during his time at Oxford University. “Tell Mum who you named our son after Faith.”

“Well Richard's second name’s Liam, sorta after a friend of mine, who never gave up on me. I’m Boston Irish as you mighta guessed, so if fitted. And 'Richard'…” Faith nearly squirmed under Wesley’s accusing gaze. “Um, after an old boss of mine. He was kinda misunderstood, I always felt.”

Part Eleven

One welcome upshot of his parents' knowing about Richard, his mother offered to baby sit three days later. This left Faith and Wesley free to have a meal together in a restaurant tonight, going over their final arrangements. Wesley flying out to Los Angeles the next day.

“I’ll wind up everything in L.A., then return back to London next week.” Wesley promised. “I’ll look for accommodation close by you. I’ll get a job in London.”

“Demon hunting?” Faith toyed with the peas on her plate.

“If you can give up vampire slaying for Richard’s sake, I can give up demon hunting.” Wesley reasoned, cutting up his steak. “I was thinking of applying for a job as an ancient language translator at the British Museum.”

What was the life and limb risk factor in that job? A shelf of papyrus rolls would fall on top of him? It seemed the safest occupation for a young father, if not the most highly paid. With his luck all the mummies on the second floor would probably decide to come back to life however.

“What if… Suppose Connor gets caught D.I.C. of his parents SUV? Do ya figure Angel might be tempted to press the erase button on our memory tapes again?” Faith sipped her ice water. No more booze for her. She and Wesley instantly agreed on that one after discussion. They both fought issues with the demon drink.

“That’s a chance we have to take.” Wesley drank his own water. “Are you worried I’m not going to return from the City of Angels? Be seduced once more by its smog filled charms?”

“I could cope if you did.” Faith told him bluntly. “I’ve been handling this single motherhood gig so far okay." But it was so much better with Wesley on the scene.

“I promise I’m coming back to you both.” Wesley went to clasp her hand in reassurance, then thought better of it. They hadn’t touched each other since they reunited.

Faith noted his hand movement. Yeah, she had been feeling that way too.

Part Twelve

In the L.A. offices of Wolfram and Hart the news that Wesley intended to leave permanently, brought mixed reactions.

“Faith gave birth to a mini Wyndham Pryce? You shagged your slayer? Why, you sly old dog, Wesley you.” Spike hadn’t heard anything so bleeding funny in awhile. He wondered why Faith never let on about her and Wes in Sunnydale. Why did she move so quickly onto Wood? “I wager your reunion was bloody something. Made you pop like warm champagne did she?”

“Faith and I are simply friends.” Wesley frowned. That’s what fortunately they seemed to have become. “Richard’s best interests are our only concern at the moment.”

“Oh please.” Spike scoffed disbelievingly. “You and her just friends, with your bleeding history? Mate you’ll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll have to avoid hating each other again till it makes you quiver, for your kid’s sake, but you'll never be 'just friends'.”

Gunn frowned, throbbing in his temples warned he had headache coming on. “I always liked Faith. She’s too good for you English.” Gunn rubbed his forehead. “I don’t understand how I never picked up on it at the time.” Gunn never understood how Cordelia became pregnant either. But whenever he thought too hard about those crazy months last year, a migraine developed.

Angel hadn’t taken Wesley’s news too well at first. Angel desired Wesley’s assistance in bringing down the Circle of the Black Thorn. Angel informed Wesley that every one who helped him do this would most surely die.

“Sorry Angel not this time. My priorities lie elsewhere at the moment. Indeed for the next eighteen years.” Wesley slid the contents of his desk into a cardboard box.

“Well say hello to Faith for me.” Angel instructed. “She really named her son after me?” Angel mumbled touched. Faith was always ‘his girl’ too in her own special way.

“Yes Liam. Mum would have loved Angel as a name as well.” Wesley said dryly. ‘Angel’ was a very upper crust British name. Wesley came close to being called ‘St John’ as an infant pronounced Sinjin, thank god for small mercies. ‘Wesley’ had been bad enough.

“I understand how family comes first.” Angel conceded reluctantly. He couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Try and watch out for do-gooding morons who want to abduct your kid, Wesley, then pass them off to your mortal enemy about to enter a Hell dimension.”

Wesley held out his hand. “Good luck Angel.”

“You too Wes.” Angel almost hugged him. Almost.

Illyria stood in the hallway outside, for all the world appearing like a blue preying mantis.

“Do you need me to pretend to be her?” The goddess offered, curious to see what his emotional reaction would be. “To say good bye?”

“No thank you. Fred was never in love with ‘me’ in any case. I see that now.” Wesley confessed. “I don’t know if I would have still been in love with her, if I had been in my own true mind at the time.”

What he and Lilah shared together however dysfunctional, had at least been real. The false love he besotted himself with about Fred, an illusion. Fred probably would have got back with Gunn, if the pair had had their real memories in place also.

Wesley remembered the night he decided to accept Wolfram and Hart’s offer. He rung up Faith at the hotel she had been staying in. She previously called him with her contact details. While he sweated in the law firm's basement, trying vainly to destroy Lilah’s contract. His cellphone had been switched off.

Faith was out drinking with Xander and Andrew unfortunately, at the time Wesley tried to contact her. Therefore she missed his call. Wesley had been prepared to try and persuade Faith that maybe she should give California one last chance after all.

Wesley woke up a changed person. A man who would never go to the ruthless extremities the real Wesley took in the recapture of Angelus. A new man who guided Faith safely through an easy entrapment of Angelus. The new Wesley who honorably never laid a finger on her. Because with their turbulent past history that would have been sick beyond belief.

Part Thirteen

Wesley walked forth confidently into the arrivals lounge at Heathrow this time. Pushing a baggage cart laden with luggage. Wesley knew what he was about now. His life contained purpose once more.

Faith waited with Richard behind the barrier.

Wesley kissed Faith on the cheek, taking his son into his arms. He was home.

“Just a kiss on the cheek?” Faith smirked by his side. “I thought we might move on from pre-first base, now you’re back for good and all.”

Faith leaned up to him. Back in South Boston as an adolescent, she was the only one bravest out of all the neighborhood kids to dive into a local swimming hole from the highest rock. She put her arms around Wesley’s neck, careful not to squash Richard.

“It’s been a while, Wes." She whispered, her brown eyes betraying her uncertainty. "Am I outta line here?”

Wesley raised his eyebrows. He reached his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. He discretely pulled out the condom pack he purchased in L.A. showing her a glimpse of it. Conscious of the milling crowd around them. “I was thinking that I might be.”

Faith grinned pleased. He lowered his mouth, as she raised her lips. Their kiss publicly chaste but with the hint of things to come.

Part Fourteen

They arrived home. Faith helped him carry his suitcases out of the car effortlessly.

“Didja pack the kitchen sink? Or the whole of your B. and D. dungeon, including the bricks?” Faith chuckled. The sexual tension grew in the car between them on the way home. She reeled off smutty remark, after smutty remark, driving back from Heathrow airport. She wanted him and it was obvious he still wanted her.

“The kitchen sink wouldn’t come off the wall.” He joked, pulling her into his arms. “The handcuffs and manacles would have been difficult to get through customs.”

“Oh fuck, Wes.” Faith breathed, staring up at him. Her mouth assaulted his once more. Devouring it frantically, in the same way she attacked him in the Heathrow Airport underground parking lot. And as in the airport’s parking lot, Richard’s wails interrupted them again.

His parents groaned, detaching themselves from one another.

“He’s gonna be awake for the next three hours now.” Faith shrugged resigned. “Why don’t you grab some sleep and I’ll wake you up when Richard goes down for bye byes.”

“’Bye byes’? Faith, you need another adult in your life.” Wesley kissed her quickly again. Conscious of the mood killer of his screaming son in the back seat of the car. “You conversation has degenerated once more in my three day absence.”

“Screw you, Wes.” Faith rolled her eyes, caught out.

“Soon darling, just hold on.” Wesley pressed his lips against hers. Their lips parted, allowing their tongues to eagerly re-explore the others mouth. Richard’s screams became more frantic.

“Dear God!” Wesley walked over to the back seat of the car to unstrap his son from his baby capsule. “No danger of losing him in a crowd is there?”

“Nah.” Faith nodded her head in frustrated agreement. Jesus, was it too much to ask? Just an hour to themselves right now?

They entered Faith’s apartment with the last of Wesley’s luggage. He slept on her fold out couch last week. Wesley didn’t think this would be his sleeping arrangement somehow this evening.

“Hey Wes?” Faith held a screaming, red faced Richard in her arms. “You go nap on my bed okay? I’ll wake you up when he goes down.”

“I can keep awake Faith.” Wesley told her, stroking her back. Oh god, would Richard just shut up! Wesley already loved his son, would lay down his life in a second for him. But it was as if Richard uncannily sensed his parents weren’t making him their sole focus at the moment.

“Well maybe I want ya at full strength in a coupla hours time.” Faith smirked. She shoved Wesley away with her free arm. “Go sleep Wes.”

Wesley entered Faith’s bedroom, stripped off his clothes and laid down his jet lagged body between the covers on her bed. His eyes closed within seconds, sleep followed in minutes.

His awakening was most deliciously unexpected. Faith was tonguing the length of his hardened shaft. Her medium length hair, sweeping over his now exposed groin. Wesley lay quietly, enjoying the moment as it were.

Faith raised her head. She crawled up him until they were face to face. “I thought that might wake you up.” She grinned wickedly. She knelt over him naked, apart from her bra.

“You make a superior alarm clock.” Wesley wrapped his fist in her hair, he needed to kiss her properly. He noticed Richard’s cot missing from the bedroom out of the corner of his eye.

Oh Christ, meeting tongues, his teeth pulling at her bottom lip. Faith had forgotten how heart stopping kissing Wesley could be.

Wesley ran his hands over her smooth skin. Her body was changed slightly after giving birth, no denying it. Her hip bones were wider, her breasts were larger. Wesley fiddled with the catch of her bra.

“No Wes don’t.” Faith shook her head, stopping his hand. “Just don’t, okay?”

Faith could be such a strange girl sometimes. Wesley was prepared to live with it. Prepared to live with her, if she’d let him. He devoted his attentions to her collar bone with blunted teeth.

It was sweet music to hear her sighing with pleasure. He moved his mouth unhurriedly down her body. She smelled of raspberries. Faith fresh from a shower, before she came to bed. His lover feeling a bit unconfident? Silly, silly girl.

Wesley kissed her stomach. He could see the stretch marks up close now. God, rather her than him were his only coherent thoughts on the matter.

He moved closer towards his intended destination. Faith’s sighing changed key, Wesley probed her carefully with his questing tongue, parting her unresisting thighs wider with his hands.

If Wes kept up that wicked sweet rhythm with his tongue, Faith thought, pressing her head back against the pillow. Oh sweet baby Jesus, now he was gently sucking her. Yeah, and if he put his fingers inside her like he was doing now, and oh fuck yes, stroked gently in and out of her like that. Then Faith was fairly certain. Oh Christ! That she would come hard like this.

Wesley slid up her body. He kissed her. “Going on top?”

“Nah, I’ll dominate you tomorrow if you want, Wes.” Faith leered relaxed, but oh so very ready to be fucked right now. “Or are you not up to it anymore, what with you being in your thirties and all?”

“Emasculating creature aren’t you?” Wesley snorted, grabbing a condom from the bedside dresser.

“I always loved it when you talked dirty, lover.” Faith found her wise cracks finally stopped by his mouth. Wesley twisted his body, to roll on the condom. Faith lent a willing helping hand. She could play well with others sometimes.

Wesley parted her the innermost folds of her slick flesh to slide smoothly inside her. His arms supporting his weight. He was glad to see from the rapturous dreamy expression on Faith’s face, while he moved in and out of her, that he didn’t need to kiss her anymore to shut her up.

Faith began to keen loudly. Her hands entangled in his hair. She wrapped her legs around his waist to increase the depth of his penetration inside her, arching her back. She shouldn’t have done that Wesley thought with a second’s panic. Because it made it very hard to hang on, but no, he could control himself. Just.

He moved his hand down, to helpfully tip her over the brink again. There alas no possible way he could hold back ejaculating now. Not after seeing her climax, looking into his eyes as she did so. Dear God! He released himself ecstatically inside her. Hell that was good.

He held Faith in his arms. He stroked the tattoo on her upper arm, rediscovering a familiar friend. They nestled silently content for several minutes. Both feeling very proud of themselves for having fucked in such an emotionally healthy way with each other. This time.

Eventually Wesley plucked at her bra strap. “Why?”

“Um, didn’t know if it was gonna happen but it did, I expressed breast milk when I got off.” Faith twisted her mouth wryly. “Didn’t know if it would make you lose your stiff upper lip or not, so to speak.”

“I see.” Wesley rested his chin on head. “Next time leave the bra off.”

“Deviant.” Faith rubbed her face on his chest affectionately.

“You think you do, but you truly have no idea, Faith.” Wesley threaded his hand through the cool silk of her hair.

Their relationship's beginning was unorthodox, and would often be revisited by the dark shadows of their pasts separate and shared, but it was what they had always needed to be happy.