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Angels and Demons by TalesofSpike
 
Chapter 1.02
 
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Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.

SECTION 1 - HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

((Jim Steinman wrote it, I think, even though the site where I found the lyrics says it's Bonnie Tyler) - Bonnie Tyler




Chapter 1.02
Friday, May 24th, 2002


So far as Wes could tell, everything was ready. Anything that he had considered might possibly be deemed unsuitable for Rosa to investigate had been moved upstairs, either to his own bedroom, which was currently locked, or under lock and key in one of his glass-fronted bookcases in the upstairs study.

He'd been unsure what to cook. If it had been just him and Marie, he might have gone for something elaborate, but he didn't know enough about Rosa's eating habits to be sure what she would eat. Buffy had come to the rescue by providing him with a large selection of take-away menus, though Spike's 'helpful' comment had run along the lines that if Rosa ate her grandmother's cooking she would eat anything.

Marie was bringing the DVDs with her, a kiddie friendly one for the earlier part of the night and then another couple for after they had put Rosa to bed in the spare room. He had even visited the local Disney store and brought home a stuffed Tigger, about half as big as Rosa herself, to share the bed with the little girl whenever she came to visit. As to where anyone else was sleeping, he had no idea.

His previous dates with Marie had ended with him dropping her off outside her apartment. It didn't take a mindreader to know that Marie had been as reluctant to part as he was, but she had yet to invite him in at the end of an evening. Reading between the lines, Wes suspected that Marie's home life had been very sheltered. By her own admission her mother had disowned her after she had been excommunicated and Wes thought that was just one way in which a religiousness that bordered on fanaticism had manifested itself. She had met Rosa's father, Thomas, when she was in her first year of college and Wes knew that he was the first man she had dated since his death.

Then again, considering that he had spent over a year in the futile pursuit of Fred, just being with a woman who obviously wanted to be with him was a refreshing change and it wasn't doing his self-esteem any harm, either. Wes wasn't about to betray her trust by rushing her into his bed before she was completely ready. If Marie chose to double up with Rosa or if he ended up sleeping on the sofa, that was okay with him... even if certain other arrangements would be infinitely preferable.








"Hey! How are you today?" Wes asked Rosa as he swung the self-propelled missile that occasionally masqueraded as a young girl into his arms.

"Mommy says I'm a handful today, but I think I'm bigger than that 'cause a handful's only little. Is this your house?"

"It's where I'm living for the moment, but I don't own it," Wes explained.

"Can I look 'round?"

"Maybe later. Your mommy needs to check that I haven't left anything where you might hurt yourself first."

"I won't get hurt and if I do mommy kisses it better."

"Why don't you pretend you're a good girl and wait like Wes asked you to?" Marie suggested as she joined them, carrying an overnight bag over one shoulder and a Barbie backpack in one hand. She leant over Rosa's shoulder to kiss the Englishman on the cheek.

"Because I'm a little demon?" the girl replied with a grin, "but I'll pretend to be good."

"Rosa, why don't you take your bag up to the spare room? It's upstairs at the front of the house at that end." Wes pointed toward the living room. "You should find someone on the bed, waiting to keep you company." He lowered the girl to the floor and she immediately took off upstairs to check out her sleeping quarters for the night.

"Hey, handsome." Marie dropped her own bag on the floor and stepped into Wes's waiting arms. This time their greeting wasn't going to fall into the family viewing category, though Wes was forced to cut it far shorter than he might have liked, in order to avoid being seen by little eyes.

"Hey, to you, too." His voice was husky with desire as he stooped to pick up Marie's bag for her. "There are only two bedrooms, I'm afraid. I'm using what was originally the master bedroom as a study, but if you'd rather not share with Rosa, I can take one of the couches..."

Marie's teeth rested nervously on her lower lip as she considered. "Normally, I would say that I would share with the little one, but then... if things change..."

"It would be difficult to explain to her why you weren't going to be sharing with her any longer," Wes added in an understanding whisper.

"Sí. I don't want to evict you from your bed, though." She stumbled over her words as she realised this could be misconstrued. "I mean that I'm happy to sleep on the sofa."

Wes smiled and taking her hand led her upstairs. "I wouldn't hear of it. If word got around that I let a young lady sleep on the sofa while I had a huge double bed all to myself, I'd be disqualified from ever claiming to be a gentleman again. The sofa is mine."

"You don't mind? I mean you weren't expecting..."

Wes reached the landing at the top of the staircase and turned to look Marie in the eye as she joined him. "All I expect from you is your company. The rest..." He gave a tiny shake of his head as if to say anything else were unimportant. "The rest will come together in its own good time... or not."

He took the key for his bedroom door from his trouser pocket and passed it to Marie as Rosa emerged from the spare room, dragging Tigger behind her. "I've hidden away some things in there that I didn't think Rosa should get her hands on, so, it's probably best kept locked unless one of us is there to watch her. I'll be getting some sort of safe for what's in the closet, but I haven't had time, yet. Why don't you unpack? I'll show Rosa the rest of the house and you can catch up with us when you're ready." He placed her bag on the floor beside the locked door.

Curiosity drove Marie to head straight for the closet as soon as she had dumped her bag on the bed. At first she saw only clothes, but then, on the shelf above the closet door, she noticed the items to which Wes had referred. She pulled down the pump-action shotgun. She'd come across enough weapons in her time as an attorney to have learned the basics, although she had never fired one. The safety catch was on and when she checked, she found the weapon wasn't loaded. Once she had confirmed that the same was true of all three handguns that were there, she replaced them all back on the shelf. She sat down on the bed, unzipping her bag but getting no further with her unpacking than that. For all she had known about Wes's work, the violence inherent to it had never really registered until that moment. He was being up front about it. If he hadn't said anything, she might never have noticed the weapons there. Obviously, they were as secure as he could make them, under the circumstances, but something about having a gun in the same house as her child made her blood run cold, and she was sure that there would also be enough bladed weapons hidden away to give her nightmares. For the first time since Lily had commented on her attraction to the Brit, Marie began to wonder if acting on that attraction had been the right thing to do.

She knew that Wes was a good man and however many firearms he owned, that fact wouldn't change. She just wasn't sure any more that it was safe for Rosa to be around him.








"I should go see mommy," Rosa announced as Wes showed her the back yard, pointing out that she wasn't allowed to play near the spa unless he or her mother were there. "She's sad."

"She's sad? How do you know?"

The little girl shrugged. "I just know."

"Maybe I should speak to her?"

The girl shook her head as the breeze carried the distant echo of Wes's doorbell. "You have to speak to the angry men."

Wes ushered the girl toward the back door. "Go see your mommy. Don't let her answer the door. I'll speak to whoever is there, okay? Now be careful you don't fall or anything."

Wes made his way around the side of the house at a brisk walk, hoping to intercept his visitors before Marie could answer the door. Wes would have liked to pretend that he was surprised at their identity but he had almost been expecting it, and Rosa's description was more than apt.

"Quentin, Lydia, I thought you might show up sooner or later. I'm afraid the rest of you are after my time. I would ask Quentin to do the introductions but I really don't care. I gather Faith packed off the flunkies you sent to the graveyard to fetch her last night with their tails between their legs." Wes slowed his pace to a stroll as he stepped onto the front porch, facing the group head on.

"Well," Travers drawled. "I really don't see that our business with Faith has anything to do with why we're here."

"Doesn't it? My impression was that you wanted to use Faith as a saboteur within Buffy's household and when she turned you down you thought I was your next best choice."

"Nonsense, Wesley. Faith has yet to hear our offer. She merely requested that if I wanted to speak to her I should seek her out directly. As to why we're here, we simply heard that you were in the area and thought we would pay a social call to see how you were doing. Your father sends his regards, by the way... though he did seem surprised to discover that you had... How did he put it? ...Slunk out of Los Angeles like a thief in the night."

"I did not slink. I came back to Sunnydale because Buffy asked me to and I never hid where I was going or what my plans were from anyone."

"You simply neglected to mention either these plans, or the fact that your employment with Angel Investigations had been terminated to your parents."

"My relationship with my parents is not up for discussion here."

"There's no need to be touchy, Wesley. We, as a group, invested a great deal in your training. I am here to ascertain whether your return to Sunnydale might indicate that you no longer adhere to that ridiculous loyalty you appeared to offer that abomination by whom you were employed in Los Angeles. Shall we just say that we have yet to totally write off our investment in you?"

"You can say whatever you like-." Wes, and those facing him, turned as the front door of the house opened.

"Wes?" Marie asked, with a determination that many of the local attorneys would have easily recognised. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem at all. I was just letting Mr Travers know that his thirty pieces of silver weren't going to buy anyone around here." She moved past Travers and his disciples to stand next to Wes, her arm wrapping around his waist.

Quentin ignored her, as if her presence were insignificant. "A great battle is coming, Wesley. It will pit human against demon on a scale never before seen. Your father isn't the only one who will be disappointed if you choose the wrong side. Remember Miss Summers and her delinquent cohort are only two links in a chain. Slayers are... disposable. They fulfill their purpose and then they die and a new slayer is called. The Council is the constant, not the girls. If Miss Summers has so far forgotten her duty as to consort with the very demon who killed two slayers and massacred watchers and potentials by the score as if it were some macabre game, then she is no longer a fitting champion for the human race."

"I choose the side that lets me live with my conscience. Buffy does the same. She outgrew the concept of being a champion to the human race. She is a champion for the innocent, human and demon alike. Your veiled threats would not impress her and they don't impress me. You know and I know that if there is a major showdown coming, then you can't afford to have an inexperienced girl spear-heading the battle. Buffy, Spike and Faith are the best weapons that my side has. It's up to you to decide whether you stand with us or against us, not the other way around."

One of the younger watchers let out a hiss of breath that seemed far louder than it should have, reaching instinctively under his jacket. Wes's hard glare stopped his movement before the weapon he had sought became visible. Marie turned enough without relinquishing her grip on Wes's waist to see Rosa framed in the open doorway of Wes's house, her ponytail doing nothing to disguise her other than human features. "I told you to stay inside, baby."

Marie's words confirmed Wes's suspicions without any need for him to remove his gaze from the watcher who threatened the girl. "I would consider very carefully before you even think about harming someone who may some day become my step-daughter. Now... put whatever you were thinking of pulling out of that inside pocket back in there and leave."

The man had heard all sorts of stories about Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. None of them prepared him for the intimidating figure he faced. Without any conscious thought, he returned his handgun to its holster and let his hand drop once more to his side.

"We'll leave," Quentin warned. "For now... but this is far from over, Wesley."

The group turned en masse to leave, but one grey-suited figure hovered at the edge of the pack long enough to give Wes a nod and a brief smile. "You've changed, Wesley. It suits you."

Wes's mouth twitched in a self-deprecating quirk, his tone no longer unfriendly, though still slightly wary. "It would have been hard to change for the worse. You better go before he misses you, Lydia."

The blonde's gaze darted back and forth between Wes and the retreating group. "Maybe we could have a coffee or something... for old times' sake? Some time when Quentin isn't around."

"Maybe... but if you're looking to expand that thesis of yours, anything I know is off limits."

She shook her head. "No ulterior motive, just coffee," she said. Her gaze caught Marie's, which wasn't exactly friendly. "And just old acquaintances... I better catch up. I'll call."

Somehow, Wes didn't doubt that she would be able to find his number. He just didn't know whether, like him, Lydia Chalmers had changed enough to act without her mentor's approval or whether this was just another strand in the web with which Travers hoped to ensnare them all.








Angel's hand hovered over the phone in his office for the hundredth time since he had spoken to Spike. He even dialled the first three digits of the number for Wes's cell before he dropped the handset back into the cradle.

"I just can't do it." He spoke more to himself than to anyone else in the room, but Lorne decided to take it as his cue in any case.

"Let me, pumpkin." The red-eyed demon picked up the receiver, dialled the numbers that Angel had pressed and added a few more. "Wes? We found out where the axis is. Angel would have called but he's just about to leave to meet up with a guy who claims to have the plans for the building and its security systems. The white-chocolate love muffin and his lady are coming down from Sunnydale tomorrow morning to see if they can help out and he suggested you might make a useful addition to the team. Are you in?"

"I'll be there."

"You- em want-."

"I said I'll be there, Lorne." Wes successfully concealed his impatience. "Believe me, Buffy and Spike won't manage to leave for a trip to LA without making enough noise to wake me." Wes ended the call and placed the phone down on the nearest available surface. His eyes sought out Marie's. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"








"Thank you , Lorne. At least someone wants to get me back... Now I guess I can check and see who did make prom queen... not that there's much in the way of competition these days."
 
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