What a Mess...

[g_charles]

Who: Gunn, Wesley, Angel, Spike
Where: On their way to fight some evil
When: Just after they leave the office
What: Of to prevent a prophecy
Status: Complete

Comments

[watcher_pryce]

If Wesley was angry - and incredibly unreasonable - before, he was even more so after Spike pulled the demon lord from him and had the nerves to bloody well wound him! How dare he! How *dare* that bloody self-righteous vampire jump into *his* fight! It was more then obvious to Wesley now who Spike was related too, since Angel had this same habit from time to time. Why did those vampires always think they were better then those puny, weak, *traitorous* humans?

"I don't need your help!" He yelled at Spike, his anger still flowing, urged on by the well deserved pummelling he had tried to give this filthy demon lord. Would Wesley have been in his right mind, he wouldn't have recognized himself. While Wesley wasn't above using torture to get some answers, he was fair in a fight. He would never draw it out unneeded, quick, swift, was his motto. But the rage and the fear the younger watcher had for his son consumed everything.

"You stay the hell out of this!" But instead of stepping aside, Spike just held his own sword out to Wesley. Oh, they were going to play it that way? Wesley didn't think so. Instead of accepting the sword right away, he took out his gun. Not looking at the demon though knowing where he was, Wesley kept staring at Spike while with two quick bangs from his gun he shot out the demons kneecaps.

It was the only thing Wesley could pride himself in being better then most anyone. His perfect aim. It paid of this time as well as the demon went down with a loud roar of death. Only then did Wesley take the sword Spike offered and gave into his rage again. By the time he was done hacking away at the demon - and any demon that had the misfortune of being close by - Wesley was covered in blood and slime that one couldn't tell what was his or what was the demons.

Breathing hard, the man looked around in an obvious daze. There was still anger but it was far less then after the slaughter. And it had been a slaughter. Wesley knew he should take care of those infants Gunn and Angel had rescued, he knew he should clean up the scene and get rid of the demon corpses, but *damn*! Why did he always have to take care of those things? Let someone else bloody well do it for a change. Besides, they didn't trust *him* anyway and most importantly... he wanted to go see his son.

"I'm going to see my son," he announced shortly, throwing the sword down next to Spike. "Thank you for letting me borrow your sword," he added. Obviously the one he'd been using hadn't been good enough. As they were so fond of saying here, 'whatever'. He'd ask Spike to drive him to Lorne's new place, but they had come here with one car. So, instead, as he distanced himself - on slippery footing - from the scene and his friends, he got out his cellphone and called Lorne, not yet wanting to speak with Cordelia.

[can_we_rest_now]

Spike raised an eyebrow at Wesley's outburst. Christ on a cracker, this boy was so far gone that not even the crew of the Starship Enterprise could get him back. He watched in silence as Wesley took out the demon lord, engrossed in the savage destruction the other man felt like wreaking on everything that crossed his path.

He didn't really get it; after all, Max was now safe and Angel and Gunn were doing what they could to watch after the other tots. What the hell got Wesley so riled up? What the hell did Spike miss?

After getting his sword thrown at his feet, Spike kept an eye on Wesley. In a low tone that the man might not have heard - though the vampire wouldn't have cared one way or the other if he had - he muttered, "Jesus, who put itching powder on your tampon, Shirley?"

Stooping down, he grabbed his weapon up off the floor, still regarding Wesley with a wary eye even as he backed away from the former Watcher. Whatever it was, it was clear that Spike wouldn't be able to play therapist even if he wanted to. Best to let the guy bust some heads open and let off a bit more steam before the vampire tried counseling a bloke who was trained to teach young girls how to kill his kind. There seemed to be a certain logic to that.

Turning, Spike saw that he'd sidled up close besides Angel, who was in the process of transporting a couple of miniature poop machines to the car. He had no interest in the older vampire unloading a batch of the little stinkers on him, and so he busied himself with cleaning the blood and other strange substances off his sword with his jacket, which needed a decent washing anyway.

"Bloody hell," he nearly growled, deciding that at least some of Wesley's disposition could be pinned on Angel, "what did you lot do to him? Tell him you salt-and-peppered his kid before handing them off to these buggers yourselves?"