(no subject)
Who: Angel, Gunn, Spike, later Cordy
When: After Wesley has been picked up by Lorne, shortly after this thread.
Where: A castle on the outskirts of town recently rid of its demon problem.
What: Cleaning up, heading home, picking up Cordy and Kathy somewhere in between.
Status: Incomplete
"No, we just-- it's complicated," Angel was frowning as he looked down at the opened hatch of his car, an infant in each arm, finding himself about as lost as how to explain things to Spike, as how he was supposed to go about transporting half a dozen infants back into town.
Wesley had made it pretty clear he was going to be spending the rest of the night with his son, and that he wasn't going to be wasting anymore precious time with the lot of them, from handing out further instruction, to even riding home with them. Which meant he was really, really, pissed. And totally not in the British meaning of the word.
Spike had asked nicely enough--for him anyway-- and he had fought with the team often enough to have a right to know. At least, when he wanted to know, which was pretty rare in itself. So, as Angel struggled to figure out if it was worth cleaning out the back and converting it to an impromptu transport, he tried to also find a way to explain to the guy why Wesley had let his beserker side shine bright.
"He's upset at us because we were upset when he didn't come to us first about this prophecy crap. He thinks we still don't trust him. And now he's going to punish us all by reminding us that Max is his son, and his son only," Angel explained, trying to give the simplest explanation he could without going into an in depth narration of what had gone down in the past.
"Help me clear some of this crap out," Angel nodded down at the arsenal that currently occupied the back of his car.
When: After Wesley has been picked up by Lorne, shortly after this thread.
Where: A castle on the outskirts of town recently rid of its demon problem.
What: Cleaning up, heading home, picking up Cordy and Kathy somewhere in between.
Status: Incomplete
"No, we just-- it's complicated," Angel was frowning as he looked down at the opened hatch of his car, an infant in each arm, finding himself about as lost as how to explain things to Spike, as how he was supposed to go about transporting half a dozen infants back into town.
Wesley had made it pretty clear he was going to be spending the rest of the night with his son, and that he wasn't going to be wasting anymore precious time with the lot of them, from handing out further instruction, to even riding home with them. Which meant he was really, really, pissed. And totally not in the British meaning of the word.
Spike had asked nicely enough--for him anyway-- and he had fought with the team often enough to have a right to know. At least, when he wanted to know, which was pretty rare in itself. So, as Angel struggled to figure out if it was worth cleaning out the back and converting it to an impromptu transport, he tried to also find a way to explain to the guy why Wesley had let his beserker side shine bright.
"He's upset at us because we were upset when he didn't come to us first about this prophecy crap. He thinks we still don't trust him. And now he's going to punish us all by reminding us that Max is his son, and his son only," Angel explained, trying to give the simplest explanation he could without going into an in depth narration of what had gone down in the past.
"Help me clear some of this crap out," Angel nodded down at the arsenal that currently occupied the back of his car.