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There's No Place Like LA

By Rach

RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Takes place during There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb, also contains spoilers for The Gift.
FEEDBACK: Yes please, I thrive on all kind of it!
DISCLAIMER: Angel ain't mine, never will be. Although I'm in the market for Fred if she's available, Mr Whedon. No? Oh well. Didn't think so.
SUMMARY: What Fred's thinking during her first meeting with Wesley, and beyond.
PARING: Wesley/Fred. What else?

Angel and Fred didn't speak much on their way to find Wesley and Gunn. Fred tried to make light conversation, but gave up when Angel continued to answer all of her questions in monosyllabic words. When they eventually reached the camp where the rebels were set up, he stopped. Silently pushing her behind him, they slipped into the cover of a tree, where Angel could just about keep an eye on what was happening.
"They should have better guards," he muttered. "Anyone could walk over and attack."
"Anyone probably already did," Fred replied, surveying the carnage.
"True." Once again Fred felt that Angel wanted her to concentrate, so instead she looked over at where his friends were standing, recognising them from when he attacked them. She heard the two men discussing the killing device with the rebels that were hanging around, and tugged on Angel's jacket.
"If Silas thinks he's losing, he'll use it," she hissed at Angel.
"If Silas thinks he's losing, he'll use it," Wesley told the rebels. Angel gave Fred an inquisitive look, before turning back to the conversation.
"The castle is well guarded," one of the rebels began.
"Unlike this place." Angel moved from his place behind the tree into full view of the others. Fred timidly followed him, jumping as a rebel dropped out of the tree that she and Angel had just been standing behind.
"It's alright, it's alright, he's a friend," Wesley hastily told the rebels, who lowered their weapons suspiciously.
Fred looked at him. He seemed to be in charge of the rebels. She'd always liked guys who were in charge. Her first boyfriend - something she hadn't thought about for a long time - had been head boy at her school, and in the cop shows she loved she always had a crush on the boss. Never the young, shy, cute ones, like everyone expected, always the ones with power. He had nice eyes. They looked brown, but she was too far away to tell properly. They could be grey, perhaps even blue. She'd have to wait until she was nearer. She was brought back to her senses as she heard Angel say her name.
"She's Fred. She does that too."
"Fred. Winifred? The girl from Cordy's vision?" So he knew who she was. She liked that.
Suddenly all of the rebels ran away, leaving Fred and Angel with Angel's friends. Angel turned to her.
"These are my friends - Wesley - Gunn."
"Hi-ya." She looked nervously down at the floor. Angel had gestured to the nice looking man. Wesley, he'd called him. He did look like a Wesley, after all. He spoke like one too. She knew his accent from somewhere, she was almost certain it wasn't American. She thought maybe it was Australian. Suddenly it came to her, and it was all she could do to stop herself from shouting out "you're British!". But that wouldn't have gone down well. She still remembered some stuff about how to behave around people, and she was pretty sure that yelling like that wasn't one of them. Instead she smiled, and stayed quiet as Angel and the others discussed a bunch of stuff she didn't really understand.
"Fred here might be able to help us with that. She knows a lot about portals." Angel turned to her, and he obviously expected her to say something.
"Not a lot. The trionic speechcraft formulation/modification has to alter the dynamic reality sphere... - Lutzbalm predicted it at Zurig in '89 -- laughed him off the stage -although this slavery and degradation's no laughing matter...(laughs) ... it's no Crug-grain and Kalla berry breakfast all right." She saw the look that passed between Angel and his friends, and inwardly cursed. Way to go, Fred, she thought. Now they both think you're some kind of nut case.
Angel explained it away by saying "She's been here a while," and she realised that he, too, thought she was crazy. She probably was. She couldn't wait to get home - Angel said they could get home, and she believed him. She wanted to eat tacos, and watch her favourite TV shows and movies. Not only that, but she could have a shower, and use the phone, and - oh - go to the library. That was her favourite place on earth, somewhere she could just sit for hours on end doing nothing but reading. Sometimes she was in Narnia, other times she was on an adventure with the secret seven. She enjoyed reading children's books almost more now than she had done when she was a child. Other times, of course, she would extend her searches to the language section, where she was attempting to teacher herself German - she was, of course, already fluent in French and Spanish, and her Latin was really coming on - or her favourite section of the whole library - the physics section. People hardly ever went down there, and she had the whole three aisles all to herself to run from book to book as more ideas and theories entered her head.
People had thought she was a little crazy when she was in LA, too - what would they think of her now? She laughed it off, remembering that she had Angel now, and the nice-looking Wesley-man, and the black guy. She vaguely remembered that you weren't supposed to call them that, it wasn't right, but she couldn't remember what you *were* supposed to say.
She looked up as a member of the Deathwok clan approached them with a basket. She braced herself for another battle, but to her surprise, he spoke to Angel like a friend.
"Angel the drokken killer, I *will* not battle you for saving the slave girl's neck." Fred blushed, and wondered whether to hide. Perhaps he wasn't going to fight Angel because he was going to come over here and chop her head off, and the basket was so he could take her head home and prove that she was dead. Before she had chance to escape, however, he continued.
"It is forbidden to do battle while performing a sacred duty. I was transporting my kinsman home - when these fools tried to stop me."
Angel turned to Wesley and the other one, and spoke in a low tone. "I was trying to tell you - they cut off the Host's head."
"What?" Wesley replied, shocked. He had a nice voice, as well as nice eyes, decided Fred. It was calm and yet commanding at the same time, even when he only spoke one word. His clipped British tones made him seem very sexy. Fred almost giggled despite herself - it had been almost five years since she'd found herself able to think that about anyone - it was a word she was surprised to remember.
"Yes, I have it right here." The green man held his basket open for them to look inside, and the four of them walked hesitantly towards the basket, Fred cowering behind Angel. She still didn't trust him not to have some kind of weapon concealed inside the basket.
When she saw the head, she was intrigued. She knew that members of the Deathwok clan lived after they were beheaded, but this one looked pretty dead. He must have had his body mutilated already. That was a shame, it seemed he was a friend of Angel's.
"He was ..." Angel stopped, obviously unable to think of what to say.
"Yeah," added Gunn.
Wesley's reply was a mere "hmmm". Suddenly their friend's eyes popped open, and he spoke.
"That's it?" So he hadn't been mutilated after all, he was just trying to trick them. Figures. "Where is the praising and extolling of my virtues? Where's the love?" Fred realised she was the only one still staring into the basket. She turned and looked at the others, who had obviously turned away in shock.
"Oh, that's right. People don't live after they're beheaded back home. Sorry - forgot to warn you about that."

***

It had been an amazing two days. She hadn't expected ever to get back to LA, yet here she was, taking a shower in the Hyperion Hotel's bathroom. More importantly, the Hyperion Hotel in LA, USA. Not some freakish Hyperion Hotel in Pylea, or any other dimension they could have ended up in, but here she was, back on Earth. With one extremely sexy guy downstairs. There was that word again. Of course, she felt badly for Angel - Fred remembered how awful it had been for her when her Gramma died, but she just couldn't conceal her happiness. Angel and Cordelia had been downstairs saying their goodbyes to Wesley and Gunn - she knew his name now - when she'd slipped away for her shower. She felt a little like an intruder after Willow told them about the girl called Buffy dying. She turned off the shower, and stepped out, feeling truly clean and fresh for the first time in five years. She wrapped a towel around her hair, and then a larger one around her body, just as there was a knock on the door. She checked she was covered up, and shouted for them to come in. Wesley popped his head around the door, and blushed slightly.
"I'm sorry, Fred, uh ... I was just wondering if you would like a cup of tea?" That accent ...
"Tea would be nice. Has Angel gone?"
"Yes, he and Cordelia left a short while ago. Cordelia says you should feel welcome to wear any of the spare clothes she keeps in her bedroom here, I'll show you that later." He looked at Fred again.
"Does she have a bathrobe?"
"Uh .. yes I think so. Would you like me to fetch one for you?"
"Yes please. Then you can come and tell me all about everything."
"Everything?" he inquired.
"Everything I've missed. And about Angel. About Cordy. About Gunn. And - " she lowered her voice slightly. "About you."

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