Come and get it!
Jun. 14th, 2002 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenNew Epiphany story! Fresh out of the beta read!
Day and Night, Night and Day
By: The Brat Queen
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's, 20th Century Fox's and all that sort of thing. 'tis but a non-profit, amateur effort, and y'all would need to get in line to sue me anyway.
Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.
Rated: PG
Summary: The AI gang works on cases while Wes and Angel try to figure out what's wrong with Cordy. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "Loose Ends")
Thanks to Cin and Wolfling for the beta read.
***
PROLOGUE
THEN
Stopped. His heart had stopped.
His *heart* had *stopped*. Angel was a vampire. He *knew* how bad that was. He could feel it in his own god-damned chest. He stood, *forcing* himself to stand still, making *that* the effort of his will, because he knew that if he moved he would end up lashing out and taking the doctor by the shirt and throwing him across the room and making *him* feel the agony your heart could feel when -
No. Wait.
He was alive. Nobody had to get hurt. The demon could stay where it was.
For now.
He stood by Wesley's bed, and promised the unconscious man he'd make it better.
He stood by Cordy's bed, and promised her the same.
He left the hospital.
*Nobody* hurt Angel's family. *Nobody*.
***
PROLOGUE
NOW
The three men stood in the lobby, looking at one another helplessly.
"Is she still - " Gunn asked, not daring to finish the sentence.
"Yeah," Angel nodded.
"Perhaps - perhaps a soothing drink?" Wesley suggested. He looked over at his books as though one would leap into his hand and offer a solution. "Or a lie down?"
"Gotta be *something* we can do," Gunn said.
"Something, yes," Wesley agreed.
Angel, for his part, grew quiet, and listened.
From down the hall, behind the closed bathroom door, he could hear Cordy sobbing.
END PROLOGUE
***
THEN
"Prit'tar," Wesley said, reading aloud from one of his books. "Native to New Zealand and known for its distinctive red and blue markings and its ability to completely devour a sheep in less than ten seconds - "
"Why a sheep?" Cordy asked. "Is that some kind of demon version of the Richter scale? 7.3 means really bad earthquake and less than ten seconds means really bad demon?" She turned to Angel. "How fast could *you* eat a sheep?"
"I'm not much for lamb," Angel said.
"New Zealand breeds a great deal of them," Wesley told her. He turned back to his book. "They've been rumored to be extinct for one hundred years, however their violent nature *does* make them a distinct possibility."
"Sheep are violent?" Cordy asked.
Wesley blinked. "What? No - the Prit'tar."
Angel peered over Wesley's shoulder. "Think that's what Wolfram & Hart brought back?"
"It's possible," Wesley repeated. He reached for another book. "However, I can't say for certain without - well, without some of my books. We lost a great deal in the fire. What I wouldn't give for even a fifth edition copy of the Memoirs of Alexander Flemming. He's forgotten more about summoning than I'll ever know. If I had that - and my Icith Codex, and - "
Angel patted Wesley on the back. "It's okay, Wes. We'll figure this thing out. It's no big deal."
"Excuse me?" Cordy asked. "No big deal? I get the screaming visions from Hell and your apartment gets blown up by the biggest bomb since Battlefield Earth and it's no big deal?"
"I'm not saying it's not big," Angel said, then thought about it and tried again. "I mean important. Yeah, it's important. Anything that puts my people inside of a hospital gets my attention, believe me."
"'My people'?" Wes asked, frowning.
Cordy rolled her eyes. "He means *us*, moron."
"Ah," Wes replied. A brief smile touched his face. "I see. I mean - yes, of course. We are a team. And *as* your team, Angel, you should be making full use of our resources. I should be cracking the books, cross-referencing the data, gathering the information, generating reports - "
"I know, Wesley, I know," Angel said. He wondered if they were going to have to have another 'No, seriously, you're not fired.' conversation. Wes always went into what Cordy had dubbed hyper-geek mode whenever he thought he'd screwed up, and the Shanshu thing had been pretty high on the screw-up scale, depending on how you looked at it. Angel didn't hold it against him though. It wasn't like any of *them* had had a prayer of translating the Prophecy. And as far as good news like that went, Angel was more than satisfied with better late than never.
He decided to try calming Wes down without embarrassing him too much. "Wes - trust me, you'll figure it out. I know it. Give it time. We'll find the books we need to find, beat up whoever we'll have to beat up and then kill whatever it is we need to kill. It'll work out fine, promise."
Angel saw Wes's eyes light up, even as he heard Cordy give a snort. "Yeah, well if you're beating anything up make sure not to bring the Whining Wonder with you. We want whatever it is *dead* dead, not just dying from laughter when they see Wes's attempts to act like he knows how to box."
"I'll have you know I've taken lessons," Wes protested.
Angel caught Wes's eye again. "You'll do fine," he repeated. "Promise."
***
NOW
"Yes, yes, I'm aware," Wesley said. He stood up from his desk and motioned for a book. Angel pulled it off the shelf and handed it to him. Wes covered the phone with his hand and mouthed "Thank you" before continuing. "However, are *you* aware that when that species of demon reaches maturity at - " Wes flipped the book open, found a reference, then smiled in satisfaction " - nine years of age it has the most delightful habit of devouring anyone and anything in its path, *including* steel bars? Oh no? Then what *did* you think those teeth were for? Trimming shrubbery? Hmm? Well I can assure you that *I* find the image to be rather amusing."
Wes rolled his eyes and sat back down again. Angel flashed him a grin and let him continue. "I can *also* assure you that the local chapter of the Grimoire Society will be *quite* fascinated to discover one of their former members acting in flagrant violation of Rule HR-11a. I'm told they haven't had a good excuse to behead someone in *years*. Of course the beheading is the *last* item on the agenda but - I beg pardon? Oh you would? Well it's a banner day for you then, isn't it? When will you be available? Good, I'll meet you then."
Wesley hung up and put the cordless phone down with disgust. "*Prat*."
Angel feigned innocence. "Something I said?"
Wes made a face at him. "Not you. *Him*. I've got him dead to rights and he *still* attempted to ask me for bribe money."
Angel knew that much from having overheard both sides of the conversation. "What's Rule HR-11a?"
"Thou shalt not keep Volvar demons anywhere within 100 miles of populated areas," Wesley said. "Or words to that effect. If the GS found out about it they'd do things to him that I daresay would give you a feeling of nostalgia."
"Nice organization," Angel said. "We gonna let him keep it if it's so bad?"
Wes shook his head. "Of course not. But *he* doesn't have to be aware of that. I simply need to pump him for information and once that's done I'll inform the proper authorities."
"Not the GS I'm guessing," Angel said.
Wes gave him a mischievous look. "It all depends on how forthcoming he proves to be."
Angel grinned at him. "I like how you think."
"Well at least one person in this relationship should," Wesley said. When Angel looked at him blankly he chuckled, then added. "*Think*. At least one of us should *think*."
"Definitely you," Angel said. "I'm more a 'hit first and then hit some more later' kind of guy. Never really got the point of that whole 'ask questions' thing."
"How did you run this business without me?" Wesley mused.
"Badly, and with no profits," Cordy said, coming into the room. She handed Wes a paper bag. "Food came. Eat up."
Wes moved some papers aside to make room for his lunch. "Ah, excellent. Did you have enough money?"
"Yep," Cordy pulled a chair over and sat to the side of Wesley's desk, taking out what looked like a wrap of chicken, lettuce and a few things Angel couldn't identify. "Got any soy sauce?"
Wesley checked inside of his bag, then handed over a packet of it.
Angel studied Cordy carefully. He could see the fine lines of strain around her eyes. He glanced at Wesley, wondering if he noticed them too. "So, Cordy, how are you - "
"Finish that with the word 'doing' and I'll fry all of your hair gel inside of the microwave," Cordy said, taking a bite of her meal.
"Um - do - um - I got nothing besides 'doing'," Angel admitted.
"Jeez! Fine! Why do you guys keep *asking* me that?" she said. "Honestly - not that I don't appreciate the whole big brother protective thing you two have got going but you have no *idea* how annoying this is. Think about it. Wes - how would *you* like it if I kept asking how your tea was every five seconds? And, Angel - would *you* like it if I kept asking how the brooding and being a big killjoy was coming along? Seriously, I'm okay."
"But the headache is still present?" Wesley asked, gently.
Cordy shrugged. "Yeah - I guess. I don't think I'd want to go to a disco anytime soon but it's not life or death or anything."
"Maybe it's getting better," Angel suggested.
"Or maybe she's growing used to it," Wesley said, soft enough that only Angel could hear.
***
THEN
"Back! Back, foul demon!" Wesley said, thrusting a crucifix forward. "I demand you leave this place in the name of all that is Holy and pure!"
The Tranyn Demon, in spite of what they had been told, ignored the crucifix and lunged for them.
"Er - " Wesley faltered, falling back a step. He threw a panicked look at Angel. "Maybe he's Jewish?"
"Could be an atheist," Angel said. He moved forward in an easy motion and brought his sword around. It connected with the demon's forearm. He felt claws try to tear at his leather jacket. He pivoted, brought the sword down, then up and over and felt the *connect* then *tear* as the blade cut through flesh and bone and sliced the demon's head off. Angel watched as the body fell and the head rolled across the tunnel floor. "You know, maybe we should just *start* with me cutting their heads off. I mean what's the harm?"
"Two grow in its place?" Wesley offered. "The seal is broken on the parasite which is living inside, causing it to burst forth in a shower of blood and mucus, covering us all as it feeds off of its newfound exposure to oxygen and grows into ten times its original size while - "
"You know too much," Angel said. He gave Wes a quick friendly look to take any sting out of the words. "How do you keep all that information inside of your head?"
"It's a hobby, really," Wesley said. He looked around, still holding the crucifix. "Do you think we're done?"
Angel cleaned his sword and tested the air. "Don't think there's any others. Let's call it a night."
Wesley fell into step beside him. "Excellent. We can tell Cordy that Los Angeles is safe once again."
"Yep," Angel said. He led the way through the abandoned subway tunnels, letting his memory of the area and the scent of fresh air guide him. "So is that all you do?"
"Pardon?" Wes asked.
"Know stuff," Angel said. He glanced at the ex-Watcher. "That your only hobby?"
"Oh," Wesley said, realization dawning. "Oh no, hardly. Why there's reading, fine films, honing my martial arts skills..."
Angel had a feeling that this was a list Wes felt he *had* to give people. "Okay, yeah, but what else? Don't you do anything for - you know - fun?"
Wes looked at him blankly. "Reading? Fine films? Honing my - "
"Okay, okay," Angel said, waving it off. "Whatever you say, Wes."
"I find that a sound mind and a good work ethic are their own rewards," Wesley said. "In fact - "
Whatever Wes had been about to say was lost as his foot connected with something on the ground and he pitched forward. Angel turned at once and dropped his sword so he could catch him.
He looked at Wes.
He felt his hands around Wes's arms.
Wes blinked, tensing very slightly. "Er - "
"You don't - " Angel started, then stopped. He felt uncertain. He didn't know why. "You don't have to - Look, just be *yourself*, okay, Wes? Don't - don't think you're being *tested* here or something. I - you're good, okay? I'm not gonna fire you. I like having you on the team. Don't worry about it."
Wes nodded, taking that in. "All right. Thank you."
"Okay," Angel said. "Good."
"Indeed," Wesley said. "Good."
"Glad we had this talk," Angel said.
"As am I," Wesley said.
They looked at each other.
"Angel?" Wesley said.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Could you - " Wes nodded his head downwards. "Perhaps - er - well the thing is I'm starting to loose a bit of feeling and as I've grown quite *fond* of my arms - "
"Oh!" Angel jumped back, letting go of him. "Right. Sorry."
"Not a worry," Wes assured him. "Just give me half a moment and perhaps a blood transfusion, I'll be right as rain."
Angel picked up the sword again and wiped the dirt off of it, looking deeply into the metal he didn't reflect off of. "Right. Yeah. We should - Cordy's probably - um - yeah."
Wes looked at him curiously, but followed him out once more.
When they reached the outside, Wesley stopped him. "Angel?"
Angel looked up at him. "Yeah?"
"Card games," Wesley said. "I enjoy darts, and card games."
Angel felt himself give a tiny smile. "Good to know."
***
NOW
"I said I don't know!" the man whimpered.
Angel picked him up and lifted him off of the floor. "*Wrong* answer."
"Believe me, if I knew - " the man looked back and forth between Angel and Wesley. "You think I wouldn't want to tell you?"
Wes stepped forward, studying him critically. "I don't know. Do you think he's speaking the truth?"
Angel made sure the man could see his gold eyes. "Dunno, Wes. *I* think I'm hungry. Let's pop him open, see how he tastes."
"I *swear*," the man said. "Honest to *God*. I haven't heard of anybody trying to hurt your girl."
"But what about the *spells*?" Wesley asked. "Five spells have gone missing from UCLA's Religious Studies archives. You have contacts with the university. What were they and who wanted to acquire them?"
"I don't *know*," the man appealed to Angel. "Like I read all that gibberish? I haven't touched Latin since I was an alter boy."
"Who did know, then?" Wes asked.
"Professor Andrews," the man replied. "He was in charge of the whole thing."
Wes nodded in approval. "All right. You're free to go. However, if you should warn anyone that we're coming -"
Angel dropped the man to the floor, then punched him across the face. He dropped down to the ground, unconscious. "He won't be talking for a while."
"Fair enough," Wesley said. "Let's go."
***
THEN
"Organization, *that's* the key," Wesley said. He struggled with the setup of the whiteboard. Angel came over to lend a hand. "Thank you."
"Welcome," Angel said as he lifted the board easily.
Wesley stepped back and pointed to the sections. "Cases. Leads. Progress. Status. With this system we can monitor our work, determine how we are doing in the fight against evil, know at a glance what we - "
"Didn't I see something like this on a TV show?" Cordy asked.
Wesley deflated. "Yes, well - all right. But it's still a good idea." He looked at Angel. "Right?"
Angel thought about it. "Yeah. I could see it."
Wesley took out a marker and began to write on it. "We must quantify our efforts. How is Angel to know if he is succeeding in his attempt to Shanshu if he doesn't know what he's done?"
"Good point," Angel said.
Cordy looked at the whole thing dubiously. "I don't know, Wes. And what do you mean, October 7th? Unless *you're* starting to get the visions I think I'm the only one of us who can see into the future."
Wesley looked at the board in confusion. "Where did I write - "
Angel reached over Wes's shoulder to point. "There. 10/7. That's October if you're American."
"Oh," Wesley said. He made no effort to erase it. Instead he moved around Angel's hand to keep writing. "Well it's July if you're not and as this was the demon we encountered *just last week* I would think Cordelia could discern that."
"Why should I?" Cordy asked. "I mean if *you* can't discern that you're living in the US now after over a *year* I think I'm entitled to a little confusion over your stupid method of organization."
"I suppose your method is better?" Wesley shot back. Angel stepped away, but he could hear Wes's heart beat faster in the comfortable warmth of their banter. "Where did you put the Henderson file again? I believe it was under 'N' for 'No Place Else To Put This'?"
"*I* found it," Cordy protested. "Some detective *you* are if you can't find a single file."
Wes continued to write. He filled in the name "Vocah" under "Cases". Angel felt a twinge at the memory. "Cordelia, it may come as a shock to you after - what was it? Over a *year* at *working* for a detective agency, but when one is a detective one doesn't want to spend the bulk of one's skills *searching for things in the office*. There are some clients who find it almost amusing when one uses those skills to, oh, I don't know, solve the cases?"
"So solve!" Cordy said. "Not like I'm stopping you. I'm big on solved cases. Solved cases mean no more kill-me-now headaches *and* I've got money for shoes and rent. I *like* solved cases."
"Who wants to go to the movies?" Angel blurted out.
Wes and Cordy both stopped and stared at him.
Angel faltered. He found it hard to meet Wesley's eyes, so he looked at Cordy's. "You know? For fun? All work and no play makes Jack cut up his wife with an axe?"
"I think the original phrase was 'a dull boy'," Wesley pointed out.
"Right. That," Angel said. "But that was - you know - a movie. Movies are good." He managed to look over at Wesley. "Shanghai Noon is playing at the dollar theater. East meets West, cultural misunderstandings, Jackie Chan - c'mon, who's with me?"
"I've got acting class," Cordy said.
"And I've... some appointments as well," Wesley said. He turned his attention back to the board.
"Appointments?" Angel tried to picture it. He found it hard to think of Wesley doing *anything* outside of work, or who he might do it with.
"Yes," Wesley said. He erased something and wrote it again, this time smaller. "Things to do about town. But thank you for the invitation."
"Oh," Angel said. He suddenly felt useless. "Okay."
***
NOW
"Damn," Wesley said. He put the folders back into place then sat down on Professor Andrew's office chair.
"No luck?" Angel asked.
"None," Wesley said. "Yes, the spells have gone missing but to all appearances they're not the sort of thing we're looking for. Two dealt with fertility and the other three with the raising of crops."
"Who'd want to steal that?" Angel asked.
Wes shrugged. "Someone attempting to give birth to something horrid or at least grow it? For that matter I'd do a crop spell *myself* if I thought it might help with the drought. But, if Prof. Andrew's notes are to be believed, there was nothing here which might have been used against Cordelia."
"Back to square one," Angel said.
"Indeed," Wesley said. His shoulders slumped. "Angel - if she becomes hurt again... If she has to return to hospital - "
Angel put his hand on Wes's shoulder and squeezed gently. "She won't. We'll fix it. *You'll* fix it."
Wes smiled grimly. "I may be running out of tricks to pull out of my hat."
Angel shook his head. "No you haven't. Known you for years - haven't stopped surprising me yet."
That drew a more genuine smile out of him. "Well, then let's hope I can manage to surprise myself."
Angel bent down to kiss him. "I bet you will."
***
THEN
"Thanks," Angel said, as Cordy handed him a blanket and some pillows. "I know this is last minute and all but - this time of night the hotels you can get aren't - um - let's just say vamp senses aren't always an advantage."
"No problem," Cordy said. She unfolded a sheet and smiled as throw pillows floated off of the couch and out of her way. "Thanks, Dennis."
"Yeah, thanks," Angel said, trying to locate the ghost out of the air. He gave up and turned back to Cordy, helping her to put the sheet over the cushions. "I would've tried Wes's but he's out and do you know anything about how he spends his time?"
"There's a lump in the middle because that's what you get with second-hand goodness," Cordy said, tucking the sheet under and pointing to the middle of the sofa. "But otherwise it's pretty comfortable and what?"
"Wes," Angel said. He wondered if the question sounded casual. "How does he - I mean - is he seeing anybody?"
"*Wesley*?" Cordy scoffed. She took the blanket from him and spread it out over the sheet. "Ha! Yeah, right. Who in their right mind would want to go out with *him*?"
There were a few long moments of silence before Angel decided to venture forth. "Um - didn't *you* - "
"That was *different*," Cordy said. "He was all foreign and accent-y and he wore those *suits*. Have you *seen* what he thinks passes for good fashion these days? It's like if a funeral director and your grandfather had a baby."
"Yeah, well - money's been tight," Angel said. He sat down on the couch and slipped the pillows into cases. He thought about the acquisitions he'd lost in the fire and wondered how much 'second-hand goodness' *both* Wes and Cordy had had to buy. "Sorry about that."
Cordy shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Not that I won't be expecting a big, horking raise once we get back on our feet again, but in the meanwhile I can cope. Lucky for you I've got a backup career."
"How's that going?" Angel asked.
"I've got an audition tomorrow for a TV commercial," she said. "It's local but - gotta start somewhere, right?"
"Right," Angel said. "Um - break a leg? That's still the thing to say even if you're not a vampire, right?"
"Right," Cordy said. She sat down beside him and helped him with the other pillow. "So why do you care about Wesley?"
Angel heard a seam pop as his hand jerked on the pillowcase. He quickly looked to make sure the damage wasn't visible. "I don't. I mean - you know - I'm the boss. He's... doing stuff. I just wonder."
"What?" Cordy asked. "You think he's being all Watcher-y again?"
Angel remembered Wes's reaction the last time the Council had been in town. "No. I don't. I just - I mean - *he's* human, *I'll* be human again someday. Figured maybe I'd start boning up. Learn what mortal guys do."
"And you're starting with *Wesley*?" Cordy asked. "Word to the wise - you might want to pick a *normal* mortal guy next time." A bittersweet smile touched her lips. "Shame Doyle isn't here."
Angel gave her an understanding look. "Yeah."
"I mean not that he was *normal*," Cordy said. "Or even totally human, but he was a *guy*. He could've showed you what to do."
Angel thought about sitting back with Doyle, a beer, and talking about the strangeness that was his feelings for Wesley. "Yeah. Yeah, he probably could've."
"But that will be you someday," Cordy promised him. "You'll be 100% human Angel, complete with soul, heartbeat, and the ability to tan. And then *you* can be the guy who goes out and does stuff. Think of it - you could date without everyone worrying about you turning into a horrible monster who should be drawn, quartered and then set on fire. People could trust you to come into their houses without wondering if you're going to torture and kill them. Little babies could curl up in your arms and not cry because - "
"I *get it*, Cordy," Angel said, not really angry. He ran his thumb along the trim of the pillowcase, tracing the shape of it. He thought about Wesley, and how he'd tensed when he'd held him. "I get it."
***
NOW
Wes was quiet during the drive home.
Angel looked over at him. "What are you thinking?"
"Are you aware that Cordelia hasn't had a vision since this whole thing began?" Wesley asked. "I'll have to double check to be certain but we've been so busy with walk-in cases - "
"And taking care of Cordy," Angel pointed out.
Wes nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Between that and our paying clients I hadn't noticed. But I'm almost certain that it's true."
Angel stopped at a red light, waiting for it to change. "Is that good or bad?"
Wesley shrugged. "Either? Both?"
Angel knew the look that meant Wesley had an idea. "What's *your* call?"
Wesley sighed. "I can't help but wonder..."
Angel tried to give him an encouraging look before turning his attention back to the road. "What?"
"If she hasn't been getting a vision all this time," Wesley said. "Only it's too big to see."
Angel thought about that for the rest of the way.
Fin.
Day and Night, Night and Day
By: The Brat Queen
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's, 20th Century Fox's and all that sort of thing. 'tis but a non-profit, amateur effort, and y'all would need to get in line to sue me anyway.
Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.
Rated: PG
Summary: The AI gang works on cases while Wes and Angel try to figure out what's wrong with Cordy. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "Loose Ends")
Thanks to Cin and Wolfling for the beta read.
***
PROLOGUE
THEN
Stopped. His heart had stopped.
His *heart* had *stopped*. Angel was a vampire. He *knew* how bad that was. He could feel it in his own god-damned chest. He stood, *forcing* himself to stand still, making *that* the effort of his will, because he knew that if he moved he would end up lashing out and taking the doctor by the shirt and throwing him across the room and making *him* feel the agony your heart could feel when -
No. Wait.
He was alive. Nobody had to get hurt. The demon could stay where it was.
For now.
He stood by Wesley's bed, and promised the unconscious man he'd make it better.
He stood by Cordy's bed, and promised her the same.
He left the hospital.
*Nobody* hurt Angel's family. *Nobody*.
***
PROLOGUE
NOW
The three men stood in the lobby, looking at one another helplessly.
"Is she still - " Gunn asked, not daring to finish the sentence.
"Yeah," Angel nodded.
"Perhaps - perhaps a soothing drink?" Wesley suggested. He looked over at his books as though one would leap into his hand and offer a solution. "Or a lie down?"
"Gotta be *something* we can do," Gunn said.
"Something, yes," Wesley agreed.
Angel, for his part, grew quiet, and listened.
From down the hall, behind the closed bathroom door, he could hear Cordy sobbing.
END PROLOGUE
***
THEN
"Prit'tar," Wesley said, reading aloud from one of his books. "Native to New Zealand and known for its distinctive red and blue markings and its ability to completely devour a sheep in less than ten seconds - "
"Why a sheep?" Cordy asked. "Is that some kind of demon version of the Richter scale? 7.3 means really bad earthquake and less than ten seconds means really bad demon?" She turned to Angel. "How fast could *you* eat a sheep?"
"I'm not much for lamb," Angel said.
"New Zealand breeds a great deal of them," Wesley told her. He turned back to his book. "They've been rumored to be extinct for one hundred years, however their violent nature *does* make them a distinct possibility."
"Sheep are violent?" Cordy asked.
Wesley blinked. "What? No - the Prit'tar."
Angel peered over Wesley's shoulder. "Think that's what Wolfram & Hart brought back?"
"It's possible," Wesley repeated. He reached for another book. "However, I can't say for certain without - well, without some of my books. We lost a great deal in the fire. What I wouldn't give for even a fifth edition copy of the Memoirs of Alexander Flemming. He's forgotten more about summoning than I'll ever know. If I had that - and my Icith Codex, and - "
Angel patted Wesley on the back. "It's okay, Wes. We'll figure this thing out. It's no big deal."
"Excuse me?" Cordy asked. "No big deal? I get the screaming visions from Hell and your apartment gets blown up by the biggest bomb since Battlefield Earth and it's no big deal?"
"I'm not saying it's not big," Angel said, then thought about it and tried again. "I mean important. Yeah, it's important. Anything that puts my people inside of a hospital gets my attention, believe me."
"'My people'?" Wes asked, frowning.
Cordy rolled her eyes. "He means *us*, moron."
"Ah," Wes replied. A brief smile touched his face. "I see. I mean - yes, of course. We are a team. And *as* your team, Angel, you should be making full use of our resources. I should be cracking the books, cross-referencing the data, gathering the information, generating reports - "
"I know, Wesley, I know," Angel said. He wondered if they were going to have to have another 'No, seriously, you're not fired.' conversation. Wes always went into what Cordy had dubbed hyper-geek mode whenever he thought he'd screwed up, and the Shanshu thing had been pretty high on the screw-up scale, depending on how you looked at it. Angel didn't hold it against him though. It wasn't like any of *them* had had a prayer of translating the Prophecy. And as far as good news like that went, Angel was more than satisfied with better late than never.
He decided to try calming Wes down without embarrassing him too much. "Wes - trust me, you'll figure it out. I know it. Give it time. We'll find the books we need to find, beat up whoever we'll have to beat up and then kill whatever it is we need to kill. It'll work out fine, promise."
Angel saw Wes's eyes light up, even as he heard Cordy give a snort. "Yeah, well if you're beating anything up make sure not to bring the Whining Wonder with you. We want whatever it is *dead* dead, not just dying from laughter when they see Wes's attempts to act like he knows how to box."
"I'll have you know I've taken lessons," Wes protested.
Angel caught Wes's eye again. "You'll do fine," he repeated. "Promise."
***
NOW
"Yes, yes, I'm aware," Wesley said. He stood up from his desk and motioned for a book. Angel pulled it off the shelf and handed it to him. Wes covered the phone with his hand and mouthed "Thank you" before continuing. "However, are *you* aware that when that species of demon reaches maturity at - " Wes flipped the book open, found a reference, then smiled in satisfaction " - nine years of age it has the most delightful habit of devouring anyone and anything in its path, *including* steel bars? Oh no? Then what *did* you think those teeth were for? Trimming shrubbery? Hmm? Well I can assure you that *I* find the image to be rather amusing."
Wes rolled his eyes and sat back down again. Angel flashed him a grin and let him continue. "I can *also* assure you that the local chapter of the Grimoire Society will be *quite* fascinated to discover one of their former members acting in flagrant violation of Rule HR-11a. I'm told they haven't had a good excuse to behead someone in *years*. Of course the beheading is the *last* item on the agenda but - I beg pardon? Oh you would? Well it's a banner day for you then, isn't it? When will you be available? Good, I'll meet you then."
Wesley hung up and put the cordless phone down with disgust. "*Prat*."
Angel feigned innocence. "Something I said?"
Wes made a face at him. "Not you. *Him*. I've got him dead to rights and he *still* attempted to ask me for bribe money."
Angel knew that much from having overheard both sides of the conversation. "What's Rule HR-11a?"
"Thou shalt not keep Volvar demons anywhere within 100 miles of populated areas," Wesley said. "Or words to that effect. If the GS found out about it they'd do things to him that I daresay would give you a feeling of nostalgia."
"Nice organization," Angel said. "We gonna let him keep it if it's so bad?"
Wes shook his head. "Of course not. But *he* doesn't have to be aware of that. I simply need to pump him for information and once that's done I'll inform the proper authorities."
"Not the GS I'm guessing," Angel said.
Wes gave him a mischievous look. "It all depends on how forthcoming he proves to be."
Angel grinned at him. "I like how you think."
"Well at least one person in this relationship should," Wesley said. When Angel looked at him blankly he chuckled, then added. "*Think*. At least one of us should *think*."
"Definitely you," Angel said. "I'm more a 'hit first and then hit some more later' kind of guy. Never really got the point of that whole 'ask questions' thing."
"How did you run this business without me?" Wesley mused.
"Badly, and with no profits," Cordy said, coming into the room. She handed Wes a paper bag. "Food came. Eat up."
Wes moved some papers aside to make room for his lunch. "Ah, excellent. Did you have enough money?"
"Yep," Cordy pulled a chair over and sat to the side of Wesley's desk, taking out what looked like a wrap of chicken, lettuce and a few things Angel couldn't identify. "Got any soy sauce?"
Wesley checked inside of his bag, then handed over a packet of it.
Angel studied Cordy carefully. He could see the fine lines of strain around her eyes. He glanced at Wesley, wondering if he noticed them too. "So, Cordy, how are you - "
"Finish that with the word 'doing' and I'll fry all of your hair gel inside of the microwave," Cordy said, taking a bite of her meal.
"Um - do - um - I got nothing besides 'doing'," Angel admitted.
"Jeez! Fine! Why do you guys keep *asking* me that?" she said. "Honestly - not that I don't appreciate the whole big brother protective thing you two have got going but you have no *idea* how annoying this is. Think about it. Wes - how would *you* like it if I kept asking how your tea was every five seconds? And, Angel - would *you* like it if I kept asking how the brooding and being a big killjoy was coming along? Seriously, I'm okay."
"But the headache is still present?" Wesley asked, gently.
Cordy shrugged. "Yeah - I guess. I don't think I'd want to go to a disco anytime soon but it's not life or death or anything."
"Maybe it's getting better," Angel suggested.
"Or maybe she's growing used to it," Wesley said, soft enough that only Angel could hear.
***
THEN
"Back! Back, foul demon!" Wesley said, thrusting a crucifix forward. "I demand you leave this place in the name of all that is Holy and pure!"
The Tranyn Demon, in spite of what they had been told, ignored the crucifix and lunged for them.
"Er - " Wesley faltered, falling back a step. He threw a panicked look at Angel. "Maybe he's Jewish?"
"Could be an atheist," Angel said. He moved forward in an easy motion and brought his sword around. It connected with the demon's forearm. He felt claws try to tear at his leather jacket. He pivoted, brought the sword down, then up and over and felt the *connect* then *tear* as the blade cut through flesh and bone and sliced the demon's head off. Angel watched as the body fell and the head rolled across the tunnel floor. "You know, maybe we should just *start* with me cutting their heads off. I mean what's the harm?"
"Two grow in its place?" Wesley offered. "The seal is broken on the parasite which is living inside, causing it to burst forth in a shower of blood and mucus, covering us all as it feeds off of its newfound exposure to oxygen and grows into ten times its original size while - "
"You know too much," Angel said. He gave Wes a quick friendly look to take any sting out of the words. "How do you keep all that information inside of your head?"
"It's a hobby, really," Wesley said. He looked around, still holding the crucifix. "Do you think we're done?"
Angel cleaned his sword and tested the air. "Don't think there's any others. Let's call it a night."
Wesley fell into step beside him. "Excellent. We can tell Cordy that Los Angeles is safe once again."
"Yep," Angel said. He led the way through the abandoned subway tunnels, letting his memory of the area and the scent of fresh air guide him. "So is that all you do?"
"Pardon?" Wes asked.
"Know stuff," Angel said. He glanced at the ex-Watcher. "That your only hobby?"
"Oh," Wesley said, realization dawning. "Oh no, hardly. Why there's reading, fine films, honing my martial arts skills..."
Angel had a feeling that this was a list Wes felt he *had* to give people. "Okay, yeah, but what else? Don't you do anything for - you know - fun?"
Wes looked at him blankly. "Reading? Fine films? Honing my - "
"Okay, okay," Angel said, waving it off. "Whatever you say, Wes."
"I find that a sound mind and a good work ethic are their own rewards," Wesley said. "In fact - "
Whatever Wes had been about to say was lost as his foot connected with something on the ground and he pitched forward. Angel turned at once and dropped his sword so he could catch him.
He looked at Wes.
He felt his hands around Wes's arms.
Wes blinked, tensing very slightly. "Er - "
"You don't - " Angel started, then stopped. He felt uncertain. He didn't know why. "You don't have to - Look, just be *yourself*, okay, Wes? Don't - don't think you're being *tested* here or something. I - you're good, okay? I'm not gonna fire you. I like having you on the team. Don't worry about it."
Wes nodded, taking that in. "All right. Thank you."
"Okay," Angel said. "Good."
"Indeed," Wesley said. "Good."
"Glad we had this talk," Angel said.
"As am I," Wesley said.
They looked at each other.
"Angel?" Wesley said.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Could you - " Wes nodded his head downwards. "Perhaps - er - well the thing is I'm starting to loose a bit of feeling and as I've grown quite *fond* of my arms - "
"Oh!" Angel jumped back, letting go of him. "Right. Sorry."
"Not a worry," Wes assured him. "Just give me half a moment and perhaps a blood transfusion, I'll be right as rain."
Angel picked up the sword again and wiped the dirt off of it, looking deeply into the metal he didn't reflect off of. "Right. Yeah. We should - Cordy's probably - um - yeah."
Wes looked at him curiously, but followed him out once more.
When they reached the outside, Wesley stopped him. "Angel?"
Angel looked up at him. "Yeah?"
"Card games," Wesley said. "I enjoy darts, and card games."
Angel felt himself give a tiny smile. "Good to know."
***
NOW
"I said I don't know!" the man whimpered.
Angel picked him up and lifted him off of the floor. "*Wrong* answer."
"Believe me, if I knew - " the man looked back and forth between Angel and Wesley. "You think I wouldn't want to tell you?"
Wes stepped forward, studying him critically. "I don't know. Do you think he's speaking the truth?"
Angel made sure the man could see his gold eyes. "Dunno, Wes. *I* think I'm hungry. Let's pop him open, see how he tastes."
"I *swear*," the man said. "Honest to *God*. I haven't heard of anybody trying to hurt your girl."
"But what about the *spells*?" Wesley asked. "Five spells have gone missing from UCLA's Religious Studies archives. You have contacts with the university. What were they and who wanted to acquire them?"
"I don't *know*," the man appealed to Angel. "Like I read all that gibberish? I haven't touched Latin since I was an alter boy."
"Who did know, then?" Wes asked.
"Professor Andrews," the man replied. "He was in charge of the whole thing."
Wes nodded in approval. "All right. You're free to go. However, if you should warn anyone that we're coming -"
Angel dropped the man to the floor, then punched him across the face. He dropped down to the ground, unconscious. "He won't be talking for a while."
"Fair enough," Wesley said. "Let's go."
***
THEN
"Organization, *that's* the key," Wesley said. He struggled with the setup of the whiteboard. Angel came over to lend a hand. "Thank you."
"Welcome," Angel said as he lifted the board easily.
Wesley stepped back and pointed to the sections. "Cases. Leads. Progress. Status. With this system we can monitor our work, determine how we are doing in the fight against evil, know at a glance what we - "
"Didn't I see something like this on a TV show?" Cordy asked.
Wesley deflated. "Yes, well - all right. But it's still a good idea." He looked at Angel. "Right?"
Angel thought about it. "Yeah. I could see it."
Wesley took out a marker and began to write on it. "We must quantify our efforts. How is Angel to know if he is succeeding in his attempt to Shanshu if he doesn't know what he's done?"
"Good point," Angel said.
Cordy looked at the whole thing dubiously. "I don't know, Wes. And what do you mean, October 7th? Unless *you're* starting to get the visions I think I'm the only one of us who can see into the future."
Wesley looked at the board in confusion. "Where did I write - "
Angel reached over Wes's shoulder to point. "There. 10/7. That's October if you're American."
"Oh," Wesley said. He made no effort to erase it. Instead he moved around Angel's hand to keep writing. "Well it's July if you're not and as this was the demon we encountered *just last week* I would think Cordelia could discern that."
"Why should I?" Cordy asked. "I mean if *you* can't discern that you're living in the US now after over a *year* I think I'm entitled to a little confusion over your stupid method of organization."
"I suppose your method is better?" Wesley shot back. Angel stepped away, but he could hear Wes's heart beat faster in the comfortable warmth of their banter. "Where did you put the Henderson file again? I believe it was under 'N' for 'No Place Else To Put This'?"
"*I* found it," Cordy protested. "Some detective *you* are if you can't find a single file."
Wes continued to write. He filled in the name "Vocah" under "Cases". Angel felt a twinge at the memory. "Cordelia, it may come as a shock to you after - what was it? Over a *year* at *working* for a detective agency, but when one is a detective one doesn't want to spend the bulk of one's skills *searching for things in the office*. There are some clients who find it almost amusing when one uses those skills to, oh, I don't know, solve the cases?"
"So solve!" Cordy said. "Not like I'm stopping you. I'm big on solved cases. Solved cases mean no more kill-me-now headaches *and* I've got money for shoes and rent. I *like* solved cases."
"Who wants to go to the movies?" Angel blurted out.
Wes and Cordy both stopped and stared at him.
Angel faltered. He found it hard to meet Wesley's eyes, so he looked at Cordy's. "You know? For fun? All work and no play makes Jack cut up his wife with an axe?"
"I think the original phrase was 'a dull boy'," Wesley pointed out.
"Right. That," Angel said. "But that was - you know - a movie. Movies are good." He managed to look over at Wesley. "Shanghai Noon is playing at the dollar theater. East meets West, cultural misunderstandings, Jackie Chan - c'mon, who's with me?"
"I've got acting class," Cordy said.
"And I've... some appointments as well," Wesley said. He turned his attention back to the board.
"Appointments?" Angel tried to picture it. He found it hard to think of Wesley doing *anything* outside of work, or who he might do it with.
"Yes," Wesley said. He erased something and wrote it again, this time smaller. "Things to do about town. But thank you for the invitation."
"Oh," Angel said. He suddenly felt useless. "Okay."
***
NOW
"Damn," Wesley said. He put the folders back into place then sat down on Professor Andrew's office chair.
"No luck?" Angel asked.
"None," Wesley said. "Yes, the spells have gone missing but to all appearances they're not the sort of thing we're looking for. Two dealt with fertility and the other three with the raising of crops."
"Who'd want to steal that?" Angel asked.
Wes shrugged. "Someone attempting to give birth to something horrid or at least grow it? For that matter I'd do a crop spell *myself* if I thought it might help with the drought. But, if Prof. Andrew's notes are to be believed, there was nothing here which might have been used against Cordelia."
"Back to square one," Angel said.
"Indeed," Wesley said. His shoulders slumped. "Angel - if she becomes hurt again... If she has to return to hospital - "
Angel put his hand on Wes's shoulder and squeezed gently. "She won't. We'll fix it. *You'll* fix it."
Wes smiled grimly. "I may be running out of tricks to pull out of my hat."
Angel shook his head. "No you haven't. Known you for years - haven't stopped surprising me yet."
That drew a more genuine smile out of him. "Well, then let's hope I can manage to surprise myself."
Angel bent down to kiss him. "I bet you will."
***
THEN
"Thanks," Angel said, as Cordy handed him a blanket and some pillows. "I know this is last minute and all but - this time of night the hotels you can get aren't - um - let's just say vamp senses aren't always an advantage."
"No problem," Cordy said. She unfolded a sheet and smiled as throw pillows floated off of the couch and out of her way. "Thanks, Dennis."
"Yeah, thanks," Angel said, trying to locate the ghost out of the air. He gave up and turned back to Cordy, helping her to put the sheet over the cushions. "I would've tried Wes's but he's out and do you know anything about how he spends his time?"
"There's a lump in the middle because that's what you get with second-hand goodness," Cordy said, tucking the sheet under and pointing to the middle of the sofa. "But otherwise it's pretty comfortable and what?"
"Wes," Angel said. He wondered if the question sounded casual. "How does he - I mean - is he seeing anybody?"
"*Wesley*?" Cordy scoffed. She took the blanket from him and spread it out over the sheet. "Ha! Yeah, right. Who in their right mind would want to go out with *him*?"
There were a few long moments of silence before Angel decided to venture forth. "Um - didn't *you* - "
"That was *different*," Cordy said. "He was all foreign and accent-y and he wore those *suits*. Have you *seen* what he thinks passes for good fashion these days? It's like if a funeral director and your grandfather had a baby."
"Yeah, well - money's been tight," Angel said. He sat down on the couch and slipped the pillows into cases. He thought about the acquisitions he'd lost in the fire and wondered how much 'second-hand goodness' *both* Wes and Cordy had had to buy. "Sorry about that."
Cordy shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Not that I won't be expecting a big, horking raise once we get back on our feet again, but in the meanwhile I can cope. Lucky for you I've got a backup career."
"How's that going?" Angel asked.
"I've got an audition tomorrow for a TV commercial," she said. "It's local but - gotta start somewhere, right?"
"Right," Angel said. "Um - break a leg? That's still the thing to say even if you're not a vampire, right?"
"Right," Cordy said. She sat down beside him and helped him with the other pillow. "So why do you care about Wesley?"
Angel heard a seam pop as his hand jerked on the pillowcase. He quickly looked to make sure the damage wasn't visible. "I don't. I mean - you know - I'm the boss. He's... doing stuff. I just wonder."
"What?" Cordy asked. "You think he's being all Watcher-y again?"
Angel remembered Wes's reaction the last time the Council had been in town. "No. I don't. I just - I mean - *he's* human, *I'll* be human again someday. Figured maybe I'd start boning up. Learn what mortal guys do."
"And you're starting with *Wesley*?" Cordy asked. "Word to the wise - you might want to pick a *normal* mortal guy next time." A bittersweet smile touched her lips. "Shame Doyle isn't here."
Angel gave her an understanding look. "Yeah."
"I mean not that he was *normal*," Cordy said. "Or even totally human, but he was a *guy*. He could've showed you what to do."
Angel thought about sitting back with Doyle, a beer, and talking about the strangeness that was his feelings for Wesley. "Yeah. Yeah, he probably could've."
"But that will be you someday," Cordy promised him. "You'll be 100% human Angel, complete with soul, heartbeat, and the ability to tan. And then *you* can be the guy who goes out and does stuff. Think of it - you could date without everyone worrying about you turning into a horrible monster who should be drawn, quartered and then set on fire. People could trust you to come into their houses without wondering if you're going to torture and kill them. Little babies could curl up in your arms and not cry because - "
"I *get it*, Cordy," Angel said, not really angry. He ran his thumb along the trim of the pillowcase, tracing the shape of it. He thought about Wesley, and how he'd tensed when he'd held him. "I get it."
***
NOW
Wes was quiet during the drive home.
Angel looked over at him. "What are you thinking?"
"Are you aware that Cordelia hasn't had a vision since this whole thing began?" Wesley asked. "I'll have to double check to be certain but we've been so busy with walk-in cases - "
"And taking care of Cordy," Angel pointed out.
Wes nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Between that and our paying clients I hadn't noticed. But I'm almost certain that it's true."
Angel stopped at a red light, waiting for it to change. "Is that good or bad?"
Wesley shrugged. "Either? Both?"
Angel knew the look that meant Wesley had an idea. "What's *your* call?"
Wesley sighed. "I can't help but wonder..."
Angel tried to give him an encouraging look before turning his attention back to the road. "What?"
"If she hasn't been getting a vision all this time," Wesley said. "Only it's too big to see."
Angel thought about that for the rest of the way.
Fin.
