Strategy Part Ten

[thebratqueen]

PART TEN

Wes is sitting in a windowsill, body perfectly framed by the faint outside light. Connor stands in a doorway. Watches him. Doesn't know it but shares his father's ability to appreciate the view on a purely artistic level.

Consciously, he appreciates it on an emotional level. Emotions like desire, contentment and, as far as he can define it, love.

It's raining. Wes's face is turned, looking out towards the weather. Studying it, like it's going to tell him something. Wes does that about a lot of stuff. He's a thinker. Spends his time with books and ideas. Connor knows, from the time before Jasmine, that Wes knows how to handle weapons but based on Wes's behavior then and now Connor erroneously thinks Wes doesn't prefer to. He thinks Wes likes being safe, and protected.

Wes, for his part, has encouraged this train of thought.

It's been some time since Connor's return from Seattle. For Connor it's been a happy time. Better than the time before.

He doesn't regret the time before. He thinks of it as necessary. A time of learning, on Wes's part. A time of cleansing too. A trial by fire that burned the last of his fath - *Angel's* influence out of Wesley. Made Wes better.

Made Wes his.

Connor comes into the room. Wes turns, notices him. Smiles. Nothing like the Wes from before Seattle. *That* Wes could never hide a look of anger, or a flinch. It made Connor feel like a monster, Wes looking at him like that. He didn't like it. At no time does he understand the responsibility he had in it. He makes no connection between the domination and the violence and Wes's previous hatred of him. He grew up in a Hell dimension. The universe, to him, is always hard and violent. It's the only way it can be. So instead he thinks Wes hated him because of Angel. Wes doesn't do that anymore, so it's all right.

He's by Wes's side now. Wes turns his mouth up for a kiss. Connor likes this. Enjoys kissing Wesley. It's warm and it makes him ache. And Wes does it because he loves him, which is also nice.

"Hey," Connor says to him.

"Hey," Wes replies. "I was just thinking about you."

Connor considers this. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Wesley says. He indicates the view. "Your birth. You were born in the rain."

"Huh," Connor says. He hadn't known that. He thinks about it. "Good memory for you then."

Wes's smile grows wider. He puts an arm around Connor's waist. "Excellent memory for me then."

They stay together like this. Just touching. They do that more now. Wes loves him and likes the touching. Connor moves his hand. Strokes Wes's hair. Wes moves into it, reminding Connor of an animal on Quor-toth that Holtz had called a cat but which, Connor found out once he hopped dimensions, looked nothing like them.

"Are you in for the evening?" Wesley asks.

"Do you want me to be?"

Wes gives him a heated look. "What do you guess?"

Connor bends down. Kisses Wes again. Does the thing with the tongues that makes Wes hold on to his shirt and make little noises. Wants to have sex with Wes but has learned that sometimes you wait. Relationships, as he found out from the wife of one of his soldiers, are more than sex.

Connor likes sex, but he also likes having a relationship.

The kiss ends - Wes making a sound of disappointment - and they settle down to watch the rain together.

Connor thinks to himself that this is perfect. This is a family, which is another thing he likes. Wishes sometimes that it could be a *whole* family, that Wes could cope with seeing Jasmine, but in a way he doesn't mind it. Wes doesn't like Jasmine because he's out of the mind control. Which is hard on Wes, but better for Connor.

The mind control, Connor knows, brings peace but it's not real. It's there not because anybody wanted it but because Jasmine gave it to them. He knows if the world had a choice they would probably get rid of her.

Wes, though, isn't under her control.

Which means Wes does what he wants to do.

Which means Wes is there, with him, because he wants to be.

"Oops," Lorne's voice interrupts them. "Don't mind me, kids. Just wanted to check to see if you needed anything."

Connor glares at him. Hates the demon and hasn't ever been able to get over it. "No."

"Are you sure?" Lorne asks. He tries to act subservient but Connor knows better. He can see the disgust in his eyes when he looks at Connor and Wesley. Knows the demon doesn't approve.

"Yeah. Now go away."

"Connor," Wes says, running a hand up his chest. "Lorne is only trying to help. And in point of fact I do need him."

Lorne looks smug. Connor is only slightly mollified.

"I've laundry over there," Wesley says, pointing towards an overstuffed bag. "Take it for cleaning. Also there's errands to run. I've left a note by the pile with my instructions."

Lorne nods. For a moment he and Wes share eye contact. "You got it. I'll be back before Happy Hour."

"Whatever, just go," Connor says. Doesn't see it when the demon makes a face behind his back. Doesn't see it when Wes makes eye contact again, discreetly gestures to indicate where something is hidden inside of the bag.

Instead what he sees is Wes's other hand, which is now moving down his chest and towards his belt.

"Connor," Wesley is saying, "I don't think I've tasted you yet this afternoon."

Connor grins. "Yeah you did."

Wes grins back, undoes the buckle. "This minute then. I'd like to fix that."

Connor lets him. Hopes Lorne gets a good eyeful of it before he goes. Likes that Wes doesn't care who watches them now.

Thinks it's appropriate, for a family.

***

Wesley has discovered that he makes a fairly excellent prostitute. Thinks frequently that in another life - a less demon-filled life, perhaps - that he might have made a profitable career out of it.

He wonders where he learned the trick - er, so to speak. Sometimes thinks it might be from Lilah, who so easily managed to balance business and emotions and sex as effortlessly as she styled her hair, or seized control of a room. Or, for that matter, sucked him off since she was quite skilled in that department too.

He finds, also, that he's quite good at lying. Connor proves almost disappointingly easy to deceive, the boy so desperate and eager to find the right company. Wesley is not unaware that in yet another life still he might have *been* Connor. Wonders what *he* would have done if someone had come along when he was nineteen and petted and stroked him in precisely the right way. Can't say with certainty that he might not have rolled over and showed his belly to even one like the Beast if the circumstances had led him there.

No, Connor's not much of a challenge.

Lorne, however...

Wesley is never so stupid as to even *think* of a song whenever the demon is near. Beyond that there is only chance - those moments when an emotion could be strong enough for Lorne to read even without the added help. Wesley keeps his emotions shut tight at all times, glad for the British upbringing which has given him thirty three years of practice at making sure his reactions to things are never unseemly.

All that is left, then, is a balancing act. Keeping Lorne close enough to use him to smuggle blood, not so close that Lorne finds out what has happened. Doesn't note the significant changes.

Doesn't take it upon himself to tell Angel about them.

It's been weeks and so far nothing has happened. Wesley has been able to convince Lorne that it's all an act. Wesley playing at supplication and adoration in order to keep Connor's trust.

Lorne buys it, and does not question.

Except for once.

***

"Hey. *Hey*." Lorne's voice calls out to him. Wesley walks down the hallway, pretends not to hear.

Lorne is persistent. "Hey - I'm talking to *you*, Patty Hearst."

Wesley stops. Knows this is serious. Finds an empty room and goes into it. Switches over to Pylean once Lorne joins him. "Problem?"

"Problem?" Lorne mimics, switching language in kind. "Gee, I dunno. Oh, wait - how's your love life?"

Wesley gives him a flat look. "My time with Connor is excellent, thank you for asking."

"Super," Lorne tells him, his voice venomous with sarcasm. "Except aren't you supposed to be keeping a torch for his *daddy*?"

Wesley refuses to be baited. "I hardly see why."

"The fact that you *love* him sounds like a great reason."

"That's the past."

"Try pulling the other one, it plays 'Rock Around the Clock'."

"Is there a purpose for this conversation?" Wesley asks. "You brought me in here. Obviously you know I've broken up with him."

"Yeah, finally heard about that one through the grapevine," Lorne says. "So we're past *what* and onto *why*?"

"He knows."

"Wanna try humming a few bars of that tune in *my* ear?" Lorne asks. "Better yet, why don't you cut the bull? Feed that to psycho lad, not me."

Wesley moves to leave. "I don't have time for this."

Lorne bars the way. "How's about you *make* time?"

"For what?" Wesley demands. "In case you've forgotten, there's a war on. There are more important things right now than flowers and chocolates."

Lorne's eyes are too keen. "What about sanity?"

Wesley storms past him. His hand reaches the knob. He's stopped, not by violence, but by Lorne's gentle tone.

"You're not as quiet as you think, Wes," the demon says. "You think you've got it all tucked away but even I can hear you screaming. Don't do this. Don't get rid of the one thing that's letting you survive this."

Wesley finds that he's holding the knob tight. His knuckles ache. "I can't."

"He's still in love with you. Fred says he's gone *nuts* since you told him - "

"He'll *die*," Wesley snaps, unable to face his friend. "When I didn't show he tried to find me. Connor's goons nearly had him killed. Angel can't do this. He can't be concerned with me. The world needs him more."

Lorne comes closer. Places a light hand on his arm. "What about what you need?"

Now Wesley looks at him. "Acceptable losses are part of every war."

Lorne shakes his head. "No. I'm out. I'm going to tell him. I didn't sign on for this."

"*If* he loves me," Wesley says, "you know what he'll do. Can you honestly tell me he'll keep his eye on the right goal? Won't obsess and fritter it all away? Won't walk directly into the line of fire and be lost to *all* of us?"

Lorne shifts his weight. Doesn't like having to admit that it's true. "He'll know," Lorne says. "No matter how much you try to hide it. One day he's going to know."

"That's as may be," Wesley says, opening the door at last. "But it won't be because either one of us signed that death warrant."

Lorne sighs. Wishes he had a way of making it all go away. Decides he doesn't like it, but sees his only option now is to make sure Wes comes out this alive. Figures it's the only thing he can do for Wes *and* for Angel.

***

Connor's in a staff meeting. He's at the diningroom table, talking with his underlings. Wesley is in the livingroom, to all appearances engrossed in a book.

They're talking about the war. The other side - Angel's side - has grown in numbers. They know that now, but don't know why. None of the men can figure out why anyone would turn away from Jasmine. Connor, simple boy that he is, merely suspects magic.

They're trying to plan. Form an attack to forcibly lower the numbers on the enemy's side. Wesley listens to them. Wants them to forget that he is here. Wants to learn their secrets, so that he can include them in coded messages packed along with Connor's blood.

He's having no luck with it. Connor's men don't trust him. They speak only in generalities, every so often throwing glares Wesley's way.

Jasmine's lot have an interesting viewpoint, where peace and love is concerned. They have it in infinite amounts for their fellow zealots, but for those who have fallen out of the light there is a staggering hatred. There isn't a man there who wouldn't happily kill Wesley where he stood. Only Connor's protection keeps him safe.

Wesley decides that the time has come to stop trying to be invisible. Connor *does* adore him. Perhaps this can be used to his advantage.

"It's not going to work," he says, not looking up from his position.

"What?" Connor asks.

"What he's telling you," Wesley says. He doesn't know the plan in enough detail, but knows whatever it is isn't good enough. "It won't work."

The head goon, Johnson, isn't pleased with this. "This doesn't concern you."

Wesley folds his book closed. Regards the man dryly. "Connor's well-being? I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I had a concern in my life which was higher."

Johnson appeals to Connor. "With all due respect, sir - "

Fatal error, that. Connor's territory has now been challenged. The boy doesn't like it. The chin goes up. The eyes stare down. "Wesley is mine. You will *treat* him with all due respect."

Johnson simmers. "Of course. However, this is a matter of war. Perhaps your... companion should not be troubled by such affairs."

"You were a grocer, weren't you?" Wesley questions. "Before Jasmine? Hmm. I hadn't realized that the realm of fresh produce leant itself towards planning winning battles and giving Connor what he needs. Clearly that's my error."

Johnson's glowering now. Doesn't like *his* territory being challenged by the *thing* he views as Connor's fuck toy and little else. "Indeed."

With a flick of Connor's eyes, Johnson is demoted. Connor then turns to Wes. "What do you think?"

Once again, Wesley knows that with war comes sacrifice. This time it's not his own. "They've retreated to the sewers. Rather than trying to ferret out their locations, you should use your resources to make those places inhabitable. I'd start with the warehouse district. It's probably where they're stealing their food."

"Good plan," Connor agrees. Turns to the man on Johnson's right. "Do it."

Wesley smiles to himself. Knows that for the price of a few losses on the other side, he's now won some valuable trust.

***

Johnson becomes angry. Mutinous. Views Wesley as the cause of his problems.

Revels when he thinks he's found a way to get his revenge.

Lorne's not the only one with friends amongst the hotel guards. Johnson has a few as well, and they tell him things.

Things like what Wesley does, when Connor's not around.

Johnson hears about it. Draws a conclusion. Decides to destroy Wesley with it.

"The *heretic* is having an affair!" Johnson declares one day in the courtyard. The entire population of the hotel is gathered there. It's a holiday. Several barbeque pits are flaming.

Connor's there. His arm around Wesley. They'd been sitting close, kissing soft and slow. Johnson's now interrupting them, and Connor's not amused by it. "Get out of my sight."

"He's betraying you," Johnson says. He's got an audience now. Everyone watches, wondering what will become of this. "He is *betraying* you with another."

Wesley regards this coolly. "Am I?"

"I have the evidence," Johnson says. He appeals to the crowd. "Proof that this fallen one has conspired against the Father." He turns, spots Lorne. Points. "With him."

Lorne tries hard not to show the look of *Oh shit* that's behind his eyes. "What? Why that - that's just the silliest thing I've ever heard. Why on earth would I - "

"They are always alone," Johnson says. "They hide away in rooms. Talk in strange languages. When the Father is away they are *together*. The demon even spends the night."

Johnson's scored a direct hit. There are certain jealousies Connor hasn't gotten rid of. "Is this true?"

"Lorne is my valet," Wesley says. "You *know* he spends time with me. That is his *job*, if you'll recall."

"He spent the night with you?" Connor asks.

Lorne and Wesley both understand their hardship: how to defend against the accusation without giving away the *real* truth.

"Not like *that*," Lorne insists. Tries to get others to join him in a laugh. "I mean me and Wesley like *that*? What a crazy - "

"You asked for him to come here," Connor accuses Wesley, the words fueled by months of perceived slights. "You talk to him all the time. You *like* talking with him."

"Which is, again, his *job*," Wesley points out.

"If their conversations are so innocent," Johnson asks, "why do they speak in tongues?"

"It is Lorne's native language," Wesley replies. "I do it as a courtesy. Much as I would attempt to speak simian for *you* if I cared enough to get the dialect right."

Connor's not fully swayed. "I never liked how much time you spent together."

"They've both been betraying you," Johnson says, pressing his advantage. "Most likely in your own *bed*. It makes me *sick* to think of."

"Okay, okay," Lorne says, holding up his hands. Tries to spin a tale. "You got me. I *do* have feelings for Wes, and I've tried to act on them, but ol' Wes there turned me down. Told me he and Connor - "

But he's lost his audience. No one is paying attention. Instead their eyes have been drawn to Wesley, who has stood up and walked over to one of the glowing red pits.

Wesley stands in front of one. Finds a pair of tongs. Presses it against stone until it curves. Places it into the flames.

Rolls up his shirtsleeve. Exposes his arm. Wipes the forearm clean, then takes the tongs with his other hand.

"If anyone doubts my loyalty," Wesley says, his voice as matter of fact as one declaring the weather, "I would like this to make it clear."

He presses white-hot metal against his skin. There's the sound of searing. Wesley's face shows no reaction. The skin around the metal barely gives a twitch.

When he's done the tongs are discarded.

A rough "C" is now branded to his flesh.

Connor stands. Puts a possessive arm around Wesley's waist. Looks at Johnson with contempt. "You're *so* fired now."

Johnson doesn't bother them again.

***

From then on, Wesley - though never Lorne - is always present at the formation of war plans. Wesley offers a lot of suggestions. Nearly all of his ideas result in the good kind of causalities.

Conversely, no one ever challenges the time that Wesley and Lorne spend together.

With this freedom, Wesley gives Lorne lots of messages to take back. They're encoded. Only Fred can decipher them.

They've got crucial information. The white hats take a lot of hits, but they win some pretty significant battles in return.

Wesley plays double agent so well that neither side - not even Lorne - guesses that the brilliant strategist on both teams is same man.

***