Protocol, Part One

[thebratqueen]

Okay, so maybe I scribbled out a bit of that insane crack-addled fic idea that I was talking about with wolfling the other night. It's not 100% exactly like what I describled (faux medieval has gone out the window, for instance) but still, it's in the area.


***

They say that in the old days - I'm telling you this because I always get asked - in the old days when the mapmakers would get up to the parts of the Earth's geography that they knew nothing about, they would put warnings down like "Here there be dragons" or "Here there be hyppogryffs", which was essentially their way of saying that if you went any further you could consider yourself warned. Take another step and it was your fault if your butt got bit by a mythological creature that wasn't technically supposed to exist but hey, they *did* warn you about it.

I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this.

In fanfic I've started to amass a collection of things I like to call "hyppogryff fics". They're not meant to be good, they're not meant to be in character, they're not meant to be anything except a way for me to get insane plot bunnies out of my head. And also, admittedly, they tend to be meant to stroke my fic kinks pretty fast and hard. Open fictional masturbation, I suppose one could say, but hyppogryff fic sounds cooler. Also it guarantees that each time I do this there's at least one person who writes to me and asks "What's a hyppogryff, precious?" (Part gryffon, part horse, naturally. Funnily enough hyppogryffs are actually not nearly as nasty as gryffons themselves, but gryffon doesn't scan as prettily as hyppogryff does, plus hyppogryff lets me do *twice* the amount of the pretentious y instead of an i thing and I think we can all agree that stuff like that is worth it's weight in gold, especially if you're a snob like me.)

Previous hyppogryff fics have included such gems as Strategy, Pet, Cagey Goodness, Habit, and now this.

Ahem.

If you have ever sat down and thought to yourself "Self, is it possible for TBQ to sit down with a plot bunny so wild and insane that it causes her to completely rewrite the entire Angel and Buffy universe to the point where she probably either needs to be the recipient of an intervention and/or should just admit to herself that this is original fic and would she just file the damn serial numbers off of it and get on with it already?" today is quite possibly your lucky day.

It's not in character. It doesn't make sense. The setup is wholly implausible to the extent that Wesley jerking off in Angel's kitchen while he watches Angel and Spike have sex in the bedroom is, by comparison, practically canonical. Any resemblance between this fic and logic is by pure and utter coincidence. And that's not even getting into any resemblance between this fic and the actual show that I'm swiping the characters from. It's not here. I promise you. Fictional masturbation at its finest. The premise of this piece could probably be summed up as "TBQ writes a story that goes directly to her kinks while using these paper dolls that look somewhat like characters from Angel the Series, though God knows they don't act like them."

*But* - sometimes people like playing with those paper dolls in the same way that I do, so if you're on board for the craziness well - pull up a chair! Happy to have you.

If not - well, I did warn you about those hyppogryffs.

Mind the feathers now.

***

PROTOCOL

PART ONE

Wesley walked through the halls of the palatial estate that his family non-ironically called their "summer cottage". He was a creature in his element here. His clothes were rich, autumnal colors. If he stood still he could easily meld into the walls as though an artist's brush had painted him there.

He wasn't still, though. He had to be somewhere.

"Sit," his father said, when Wesley arrived in the study. Not for the first time Wesley thought to himself that the world would most likely end if a simple "Hello" ever started their conversations.

Wesley sat. "You sent for me?"

Waiting. As always, his father's schedule took precedence over Wesley's own. Roger finished writing something on parchment paper, stamped something else, sorted through a small stack of books, and *then* he spoke. "The Council has concerns."

"The Council *should* have concerns," Wesley said. Roger's look wasn't pleased. Deciding he didn't care enough for this battle, Wesley corrected himself. "I mean - oh?"

Roger stood. It was the only way he could be taller than Wesley. "The number of setbacks that the Council has faced - "

"We're calling them setbacks now?"

Again the stare.

"Setbacks, yes," Wesley said, tucking the bitterness down as he always did.

" - has raised certain questions," Roger continued, as if Wesley hadn't spoken at all - which wasn't a first for his speech patterns in the slightest. "Discussion has been had about continuing our current strategy."

"The strategy wherein our defenses are laughable and a good proportion of us are killed on a regular basis, you mean?"

Once more with the deadly look.

"Sir," Wesley added, with his politest smile.

"The… unfortunate circumstances of the past few years have made the Council realize a… vulnerability," Roger said. He got his pipe out and started to pack it with sweet-smelling tobacco.

"Well," Wesley said, wondering what his father was expecting him to reply, "the fact that we practically invite the demons in to please come slaughter us certainly suggested itself as - "

"The Council has decided that action must be taken," Roger said. Wesley idly wondered if he was nothing but a faint buzzing in his father's ears. "If we hope to win - "

"Survive, you mean."

The glare was all the more striking as it reflected the light from the match that Roger touched to his pipe.

"Wouldn't survival be a part of winning?" Wesley asked, the very pantomime of innocence.

It's no good. He's gone too far. "This is a joke to you?"

Wesley sat up straighter. "No, sir."

"Colleagues have *died*," Roger reminded him. "*Family* has died."

"I am aware, sir," Wesley said, swallowing the bitter memory of his mother's funeral.

"The *history*, the *power*, the *legacy* - " Roger started, then shook his head dismissively. It wasn't the first time he's made it clear he thought his son was too stupid to understand the lesson, and nor does he care to even bother to teach it to him. "The Council has decided to form new alliances."

"That seems wise," Wesley offered.

Roger sat behind his desk again. He opened up a file folder, then pushed papers around so he could see multiple pages at the same time. "There is a demon. A vampire, in California."

Wesley clamped down on the urge to comment that surely there must be more than only one vampire in all of California. "Yes?"

"Powerful creature," Roger said. "Chosen by *the* Powers, in fact. They say he's a Champion."

Wesley frowned. "The Powers chose a vampire?" Then childhood lessons click into place. "He has a soul."

"He is one of them, yes," Roger confirmed. "His grandchild is the other."

"I thought those were legends," Wesley said. "Things said to demons to frighten them into thinking they could one day be like us."

"He's not like us," Roger scoffed. "Rupert confirmed - "

"Rupert's seen him?"

"He got close enough," Roger said. The twitch of his lips was the only betrayal of his frustration at the gaps and holes in the Council's intelligence. Unlike Wesley, he was old enough to remember when they had more than word of mouth and carefully transported letters to help facilitate communication. "And spells were done. It's true. The creature does have a soul. He's also incredibly powerful."

"Strong, you mean?" Wesley asked.

"As any vampire," Roger said. "But more than that. He's risen in the ranks. He's captured control of his territory."

"With the rest of his species gunning for him the entire time, no doubt," Wesley said.

"Not all," Roger said. "Some have allied with him. There are as many demons as there are humans in his army."

"Must do wonders for the moral of half his troops," Wesley said. "Knowing that should the supplies go down they need only eat their sheildmates in order to survive."

Roger didn't disagree with him. "He is a vampire. Souled or not he is not one of our kind. But he is important."

"Since when does the Council care about California?"

"Since the vampire in charge of it is the focus of a prophecy," Roger said. He held a sheet of paper out to Wesley. "Our intelligence uncovered this."

Wesley was too distracted to make his usual comment about how unlikely it is that their intelligence uncovered anything. Instead he read. "He plays a key role in the Apocalypse."

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"*The* one," Roger said.

"I notice it doesn't say which side he'll be fighting for."

"The Council has decided that that is irrelevant to our goals," Roger said. "What matters is that he's important."

Wesley gave the paper back. "We're hedging our bets, aren't we? Putting something of the Powers into our stable to help raise our own standing."

"In a nutshell," Roger confirmed. "There is also the matter of what else he can provide. His troops, his intimate knowledge about the fellow members of his species. He's also promised to put the offices and members of the Council that are in his territory under his protection - and that includes any that should fall into his domain if he is able to conquer more ground."

Wesley thought of the field office in Sacramento that was destroyed by Grappler demons the previous year. "Very generous of him."

"Indeed."

"The Council thought enough of him and his offered to agree to consort with vampires?" Wesley asked.

"To consort with *this* vampire, yes," Roger said.

"And in exchange for this he demands only that we never kill another of his kind again?" Wesley guessed.

"He demands our knowledge," Roger said. "Access to our lore and history, and what we know about magic."

"And that we never kill another vampire."

"He made no such request," Roger said. "In fact he supposedly kills his own."

"Yet also employs them," Wesley said.

"Yes."

"The Council trusts all of these reports why, again?"

"The prophecies are solid," Roger said. "His standing in California is solid. And we have secured an unbreakable pledge from him."

Wesley suddenly recalled how his father introduced this topic. "An alliance - we're talking a true bond then. A marriage."

Roger nodded. "It was the only way."

"He agreed to this?" Wesley asked.

"He needs our information," Roger said. "None of the ancient texts have survived in his part of the world. Without us, he battles blindly."

"His strength, our brains," Wesley mused. "I suppose one can't say it's an uneven match. Still, who's the poor bastard that pulled the short straw on this duty?"

There was a long, lingering silence.

"No," Wesley stood. "No. No, you did *not* - "

"Wesley - "

"You did *not* tell the Council that it would be me!"

"The Council decided - "

"I won't do it!"

"The Council decided," Roger said, his voice booming, It's the voice that used to make Wesley want to scuttle into corners and wish he could be invisible, "and you will abide by their rules."

"The Council decided *nothing*," Wesley said, too aghast by the future that faces him to remember to be civil. "You told them. You *told* them! You threw me into the path of this because of how it would become your noble sacrifice to give up your only child and you cared not one *whit* about - "

"Sit down."

"- what on earth it would do to me!"

"Sit *down*," Roger said, and this time his voice *did* make Wesley back away until he guided himself into the safety of a chair. Roger stepped forward, needing no tricks to remind his son which one of them was in complete control of the other. "Your attempts to remind me of your gross immaturity and your inability to even pretend that you are worth even half of the tutelage that the Council has miraculously managed to drill into you in no way negate the reality of your situation."

"A vampire," Wesley said, hating how his anger has made him flushed, and unable to match his father's cool detachment. "You pledged me to a *vampire*."

"Be grateful we found a match for you at all," Roger said. "The Council was beginning to despair of ever finding a use for you."

Wesley shook his head. "I would have - "

"Speak *up*."

"I would have been a good match for - I did everything - " Wesley struggled, and then gave up. He knew his father would never hear him. "A vampire."

"A vampire," Roger said.

Wesley tried to imagine how a vampire would even begin to make use of his skills. "He'll kill me within a week."

"Be that as it may, it is your job now."

Wesley swallowed that down. It wasn't often that his father was kind enough to abandon even the slightest pretense that there was affection between them, but each and every time still hurt as much as the first. "When?"

"You'll leave tomorrow."

Wesley felt dizzy. "And the bonds?"

"Will be taken care of by your arrival."

"I can't believe you did this to me," Wesley whispered. "After everything - "

"We're done now."

"Of course," Wesley said. He stood, wondering if he could manage to leave the room with some dignity. "Wouldn't want to linger on sentiment at a time like this."

He reached the door before Roger stopped him. "Wesley?"

Wesley turned. "What?"

"The Council expects all the standard protocols to be followed," Roger said. "But if for whatever reason they are *not* then I expect you to report to me with everything you learn."

Wesley stared at him, his entire body cold. "Father, you have handed me over like a virgin to a hungry dragon. Now the man - " Wesley laughed " - the *thing* I am to marry may be a monster, but at least there no one pretends otherwise. Don't expect my loyalties to last. If I must go through with this, I shall follow the Council's protocols exactly."

Wesley wanted something. A flinch. A twitch. Even a *blink* to suggest that somehow his words had hit home. Instead his father's face was as impassive as ever. "In which case, don't keep in contact with me at all."

Wesley left and didn't bother saying good bye.