"Don't worry," Angel said, looking up at the girls. "She's just had a knock on the head. She'll be fine."
"Angel? Where did you come from?"
"Uh, well, um...."
Miss Souther stirred and gazed upward. "Kelly?"
"Miss Souther, I'm so sorry."
"What? Help me up." The woman's voice, though weak, was commanding. She stood shakily and surveyed her troups. "Is the area secure?"
"Yes, m'am," Aly said formally, "Two vamps had advanced fighting skills and one of the fledges could hypnotize."
"What?" Angel blurted.
"And who, precisely, are you, sir?"
"A friend of Sarah's, Miss Souther. Helped us out."
"I see. A civilian?" She rounded on Sarah, "And he knows your identity as a slayer?"
"Well, yeah, but not exactly, I was, um, observing…" Angel began.
"You came to watch my moves?" Sarah said, both incredulous and pleased.
"So you do know this man, Sarah?"
"Yeah, Miss Souther - he was at the clinic when I was. "
"Hi," Angel said awkwardly, "I'm Angel. I'm friend of Sarah's and I am um…"
"A fiend!" Souther hauled another cross out of her pocket and brandished it shakily at Angel.
"Um, no. Not really. I mean, technically - demon."
"Girls, stay alert! Get behind me!" Souther demanded. The girls, as one, rolled their eyes.
Angel just stared at Souther, not believing this woman was a watcher.
"Miss Souther!" The girls started talking over each other. "He's on our side! Hello? Saved the world? Champion?"
"Hush! He's been known to slip," the watcher hissed.
He didn't take his eyes off the woman brandishing the cross. "Like you're such a prize. Aly, how many vamps did your team take out tonight?"
"Uh, we got five - how many were over here?"
"One," Kelly said, "He got it."
"I assisted," Angel amended. "You held him, I got him."
"I had it cornered, " Miss Souther said defensively.
"Yeah, so much so, your slayer had to get you out of the way to fight it."
Kelly cleared her throat repressively. She really didn't want Miss Souther remembering how she got the bump on her head.
Angel shot her an apologetic glance. "The point is, Miss Souther, is that your girls handled themselves tonight all without your help or guidance, while you sat over here getting comfy and being a sitting duck. Looks like they did a fine job, to me - an excellent job. And now you're standing here brandishing a cross at me and telling them to hide behind your skirts? I don't get you."
"I'm not playing your games, vampire, that's for sure."
"It's not a game," Angel said softly, stepping into Souther's personal space. "But you should know the rules better." He wrapped his hand around the watcher's, so that they were holding the cross together. She began to struggle under his hand. "I've had to face a whole floor of these. Barefoot. Crosses only affect me if they're touching my skin, really. This?" He grabbed the cross and waved it in her face. "Just makes me cranky."
He looked around to find the girls had surrounded them, and were eyeing him warily. "See? They know what to do, even when you don't."
Tossing the cross back to Souther, Angel leapt vertically, somersaulting back onto the roof of the crypt. "I'll make sure it's in my report. Keep up the good work, ladies."
He leapt off the roof and vanished into the night.
Wesley jolted awake at the sound of the phone. A quick glance at the clock made him curse. Four twelve am. Someone ringing so late was never a good thing. Throwing back the blankets, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and went straight to Rupert's bedroom, knocking softly.
"Come in, Wes," he heard Rupert's quiet reply. Wesley hesitated for only a moment before pushing to door open, his mind whirling with thoughts of what might have happened. To Angel, to Spike, to Illyria, to Sarah, to any of the slayers.
He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Rupert. The man was sitting against his headboard, phone to his year, listing to some rant loud enough that Wesley could almost make out the words. Yet, he was smiling, in fact . . . it looked as if he were trying not to laugh.
Raising an eyebrow in question, Wesley bit his lip slightly as Rupert motioned him over to the bed. It was then, worry relieved, that he realized he was in Rupert's bedroom, surrounded by the scent of his lover. He took a deep breath, curiosity overwhelming caution, and went to find out what was going on.
Rupert held the phone so that Wesley could hear it. As loud as the woman--Miss Souther?--was speaking, Wesley didn't technically need to sit on the bed, lean his head next to Rupert's. He really could have heard it all, quite clearly, from a standing position next to the bed, but . . . he couldn't help himself.
"And this . . . Angel apparently decided to stake us out. He was rude and a tremendous distraction to the girls, scared the poor things half out of their wits. If he had showed up just a little earlier, I worry that it could have caused serious distress."
"Really?" Rupert asked, shooting Wesley an amused grin that Wesley returned wholeheartedly. In fact, he was quite excited about hearing Angel's report of the incident and the man's impressions about Miss Souther. "And how did the actual, er, slaying go?"
"Well, I swear, I don't know what the girls would do without me. They were extremely disorganized, running willy-nilly all over the cemetery and they're quite unprofessional Mr. Giles. Sarah . . . well, I can hardly tell you what she did. She . . . seems to have, uh, flashed one of the vampires. To distract it! Really!"
Wesley had to slap a hand over his mouth. Rupert was in no better condition, the two of them leaning against one another, both shaking with suppressed laughter.
"And then he threatened me with my own cross! I'm telling you, sir, this Angel is dangerous! He frightened the poor girls half out of their minds. Confused one so badly that she hit me!"
Wesley blinked, glancing to Rupert who did not look quite happy. "She struck you? Who?"
Wesley made to object. There was obviously at least one other side to the story, but Rupert held up his hand, shook his head, mouthing, 'I know'.
"Kelly. She knocked me unconscious! In the middle of a cemetery! I could have been bitten, or worse. I demand that some sort of action be taken. The next thing you know we'll have another Faith on our hands!"
Wesley wasn't laughing by then. His lips were pressed together in a thin, livid line as he forced himself not to say the million things swirling around his head. He was shaking, still, but for an entirely different reason. He glanced down when he felt Rupert's hand on his thigh, looked over to find Rupert giving him a worried look.
"Yes, well," Rupert was saying. "I think this will be best handled tomorrow. Be in my office at . . . four and we shall discuss all of this."
"Of course, Mr. Giles. You really do need to do something about these . . . vampires everywhere. I can't understand--"
"Goodnight." Rupert hung up the phone and Wesley relaxed into the arm that slipped around his shoulders. "Are you all right?"
"Faith," Was all Wesley could bring himself to say. He leaned against Rupert and sighed, letting Rupert's scent calm him. "God, I was a prat," was all he could bring himself to say.
"Perhaps," Rupert answered with a sigh. "So was I. Spike's still a prat." Wesley couldn't help but chuckle at that, at the accepting tone in Rupert's voice. "We've all made mistakes Wesley. We made ours. Faith made hers, too. It's over."
"It doesn't always feel as if it is," Wesley sighed, laying his head on Rupert's shoulder. They were both quiet after that. Really, what was there to say? It was nice to know that Rupert understood, however. A moment later, Wesley blinked. "I'm in your bed."
"You sound rather surprised," Rupert commented with a laugh, turning his head to kiss Wesley's shoulder.
"Uh, well . . ." Wesley shook his head, shooting Rupert a mock-glare. "I hadn't . . . it is a bit of surprise."
"That I have a bed?"
"That I'm in it and . . . I don't particularly want to leave." Wesley waited for Rupert to say something, but the other man seemed content for the two of them to sit in silence. Wesley ran his hands over the sheets, marveling at the texture. His were new, each thread standing out when he thought about it. These were old, nicely used, the texture dulled and soft.
He should go back to his own bed. It wasn't fair to put either of them through this. Already he could smell a hint of arousal on Rupert's skin and that, of course, only made him begin to harden. The thought of feeling Rupert against him, moving sleepily and . . . Wesley sighed and reluctantly made to leave.
"I should go," he said and even he could hear the regret. He felt a bit like a fool. If he could just . . . relax and let go, let himself . . . but the thought scared him and at least he could admit that to himself.
"If you like," Rupert agreed easily. "However, you're more than welcome to stay." Wesley knew what Rupert meant, but couldn't help but to raise an eyebrow. "To sleep," Rupert clarified with a chuckle as Wesley stood. "It isn't as if I’m trying to lure you into my bed . . . Well, all right, I am, but only with the purest of intentions."
"Pure and good are not the same," Wesley countered, smiling as he watched Rupert scoot down from the headboard, relax back into his pillows. "Your intentions could be purely carnal."
"Carnal?" Rupert sounded sleepy, his voice a low rumble, the sound tempting Wesley to crawl back into the big bed and curl himself around Rupert. "Now there's a word I've rarely ever heard associated with me or my intentions."
"Most others don't know you the way I do." Wesley chuckled, leaning against the wall and already missing the worn, soft feel of Rupert's t-shirt against his skin. "At least, I would hope not."
"Oh, no. Low hundreds at the most."
"That had better be a joke," Wesley replied dryly, putting a bit of growl in his voice.
"Oh! You meant 'know me carnally'? Low thousands than."
"Git," Wesley said with a laugh as he straightened, turning to go.
"Prat," Rupert called after him.
Wesley turned at the door, smiling at Rupert. "Goodnight."
"Angel? Where did you come from?"
"Uh, well, um...."
Miss Souther stirred and gazed upward. "Kelly?"
"Miss Souther, I'm so sorry."
"What? Help me up." The woman's voice, though weak, was commanding. She stood shakily and surveyed her troups. "Is the area secure?"
"Yes, m'am," Aly said formally, "Two vamps had advanced fighting skills and one of the fledges could hypnotize."
"What?" Angel blurted.
"And who, precisely, are you, sir?"
"A friend of Sarah's, Miss Souther. Helped us out."
"I see. A civilian?" She rounded on Sarah, "And he knows your identity as a slayer?"
"Well, yeah, but not exactly, I was, um, observing…" Angel began.
"You came to watch my moves?" Sarah said, both incredulous and pleased.
"So you do know this man, Sarah?"
"Yeah, Miss Souther - he was at the clinic when I was. "
"Hi," Angel said awkwardly, "I'm Angel. I'm friend of Sarah's and I am um…"
"A fiend!" Souther hauled another cross out of her pocket and brandished it shakily at Angel.
"Um, no. Not really. I mean, technically - demon."
"Girls, stay alert! Get behind me!" Souther demanded. The girls, as one, rolled their eyes.
Angel just stared at Souther, not believing this woman was a watcher.
"Miss Souther!" The girls started talking over each other. "He's on our side! Hello? Saved the world? Champion?"
"Hush! He's been known to slip," the watcher hissed.
He didn't take his eyes off the woman brandishing the cross. "Like you're such a prize. Aly, how many vamps did your team take out tonight?"
"Uh, we got five - how many were over here?"
"One," Kelly said, "He got it."
"I assisted," Angel amended. "You held him, I got him."
"I had it cornered, " Miss Souther said defensively.
"Yeah, so much so, your slayer had to get you out of the way to fight it."
Kelly cleared her throat repressively. She really didn't want Miss Souther remembering how she got the bump on her head.
Angel shot her an apologetic glance. "The point is, Miss Souther, is that your girls handled themselves tonight all without your help or guidance, while you sat over here getting comfy and being a sitting duck. Looks like they did a fine job, to me - an excellent job. And now you're standing here brandishing a cross at me and telling them to hide behind your skirts? I don't get you."
"I'm not playing your games, vampire, that's for sure."
"It's not a game," Angel said softly, stepping into Souther's personal space. "But you should know the rules better." He wrapped his hand around the watcher's, so that they were holding the cross together. She began to struggle under his hand. "I've had to face a whole floor of these. Barefoot. Crosses only affect me if they're touching my skin, really. This?" He grabbed the cross and waved it in her face. "Just makes me cranky."
He looked around to find the girls had surrounded them, and were eyeing him warily. "See? They know what to do, even when you don't."
Tossing the cross back to Souther, Angel leapt vertically, somersaulting back onto the roof of the crypt. "I'll make sure it's in my report. Keep up the good work, ladies."
He leapt off the roof and vanished into the night.
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"Come in, Wes," he heard Rupert's quiet reply. Wesley hesitated for only a moment before pushing to door open, his mind whirling with thoughts of what might have happened. To Angel, to Spike, to Illyria, to Sarah, to any of the slayers.
He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Rupert. The man was sitting against his headboard, phone to his year, listing to some rant loud enough that Wesley could almost make out the words. Yet, he was smiling, in fact . . . it looked as if he were trying not to laugh.
Raising an eyebrow in question, Wesley bit his lip slightly as Rupert motioned him over to the bed. It was then, worry relieved, that he realized he was in Rupert's bedroom, surrounded by the scent of his lover. He took a deep breath, curiosity overwhelming caution, and went to find out what was going on.
Rupert held the phone so that Wesley could hear it. As loud as the woman--Miss Souther?--was speaking, Wesley didn't technically need to sit on the bed, lean his head next to Rupert's. He really could have heard it all, quite clearly, from a standing position next to the bed, but . . . he couldn't help himself.
"And this . . . Angel apparently decided to stake us out. He was rude and a tremendous distraction to the girls, scared the poor things half out of their wits. If he had showed up just a little earlier, I worry that it could have caused serious distress."
"Really?" Rupert asked, shooting Wesley an amused grin that Wesley returned wholeheartedly. In fact, he was quite excited about hearing Angel's report of the incident and the man's impressions about Miss Souther. "And how did the actual, er, slaying go?"
"Well, I swear, I don't know what the girls would do without me. They were extremely disorganized, running willy-nilly all over the cemetery and they're quite unprofessional Mr. Giles. Sarah . . . well, I can hardly tell you what she did. She . . . seems to have, uh, flashed one of the vampires. To distract it! Really!"
Wesley had to slap a hand over his mouth. Rupert was in no better condition, the two of them leaning against one another, both shaking with suppressed laughter.
"And then he threatened me with my own cross! I'm telling you, sir, this Angel is dangerous! He frightened the poor girls half out of their minds. Confused one so badly that she hit me!"
Wesley blinked, glancing to Rupert who did not look quite happy. "She struck you? Who?"
Wesley made to object. There was obviously at least one other side to the story, but Rupert held up his hand, shook his head, mouthing, 'I know'.
"Kelly. She knocked me unconscious! In the middle of a cemetery! I could have been bitten, or worse. I demand that some sort of action be taken. The next thing you know we'll have another Faith on our hands!"
Wesley wasn't laughing by then. His lips were pressed together in a thin, livid line as he forced himself not to say the million things swirling around his head. He was shaking, still, but for an entirely different reason. He glanced down when he felt Rupert's hand on his thigh, looked over to find Rupert giving him a worried look.
"Yes, well," Rupert was saying. "I think this will be best handled tomorrow. Be in my office at . . . four and we shall discuss all of this."
"Of course, Mr. Giles. You really do need to do something about these . . . vampires everywhere. I can't understand--"
"Goodnight." Rupert hung up the phone and Wesley relaxed into the arm that slipped around his shoulders. "Are you all right?"
"Faith," Was all Wesley could bring himself to say. He leaned against Rupert and sighed, letting Rupert's scent calm him. "God, I was a prat," was all he could bring himself to say.
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"It doesn't always feel as if it is," Wesley sighed, laying his head on Rupert's shoulder. They were both quiet after that. Really, what was there to say? It was nice to know that Rupert understood, however. A moment later, Wesley blinked. "I'm in your bed."
"You sound rather surprised," Rupert commented with a laugh, turning his head to kiss Wesley's shoulder.
"Uh, well . . ." Wesley shook his head, shooting Rupert a mock-glare. "I hadn't . . . it is a bit of surprise."
"That I have a bed?"
"That I'm in it and . . . I don't particularly want to leave." Wesley waited for Rupert to say something, but the other man seemed content for the two of them to sit in silence. Wesley ran his hands over the sheets, marveling at the texture. His were new, each thread standing out when he thought about it. These were old, nicely used, the texture dulled and soft.
He should go back to his own bed. It wasn't fair to put either of them through this. Already he could smell a hint of arousal on Rupert's skin and that, of course, only made him begin to harden. The thought of feeling Rupert against him, moving sleepily and . . . Wesley sighed and reluctantly made to leave.
"I should go," he said and even he could hear the regret. He felt a bit like a fool. If he could just . . . relax and let go, let himself . . . but the thought scared him and at least he could admit that to himself.
"If you like," Rupert agreed easily. "However, you're more than welcome to stay." Wesley knew what Rupert meant, but couldn't help but to raise an eyebrow. "To sleep," Rupert clarified with a chuckle as Wesley stood. "It isn't as if I’m trying to lure you into my bed . . . Well, all right, I am, but only with the purest of intentions."
"Pure and good are not the same," Wesley countered, smiling as he watched Rupert scoot down from the headboard, relax back into his pillows. "Your intentions could be purely carnal."
"Carnal?" Rupert sounded sleepy, his voice a low rumble, the sound tempting Wesley to crawl back into the big bed and curl himself around Rupert. "Now there's a word I've rarely ever heard associated with me or my intentions."
"Most others don't know you the way I do." Wesley chuckled, leaning against the wall and already missing the worn, soft feel of Rupert's t-shirt against his skin. "At least, I would hope not."
"Oh, no. Low hundreds at the most."
"That had better be a joke," Wesley replied dryly, putting a bit of growl in his voice.
"Oh! You meant 'know me carnally'? Low thousands than."
"Git," Wesley said with a laugh as he straightened, turning to go.
"Prat," Rupert called after him.
Wesley turned at the door, smiling at Rupert. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
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