their_sacrifice: Putting Their Lives Back Together
Wesley reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as he set his pen down on the table in front of him. An Io'ic demon. He had thought those were extinct - at least his instructors at the Academy had insisted that they were. But it appeared that they had been - like with so many other things - wrong. In a way, it wasn't surprising considering the instructors had mainly been friends of his father.
"Fred, I..." he started to say without thinking before he stopped himself, realizing what he was doing and letting out a sigh. He still did that on occasion - started talking to his wife like she was still there. Most times, he caught himself as soon as he started. Sometimes, he would look up, expecting an answer that would never come. Every time, it sent what felt like a dagger straight through his heart since he couldn't even pretend that she might be there in spirit.
Swallowing against the tightening in his throat, he picked up his pen again and, while holding his neck, started making notes about what he needed to take that night and who he needed to call for assistance.
He was just finishing up the list when he heard a noise and looked up to see his daughter walking into the room, holding her video recorder. With a raised eyebrow, he watched her pull the book he had just been using for his research and look at the information on the demon.
"You might be the right height, love, but there's no way I'm going to--Spike sent you what?" he asked, dropping the pen as he looked across the table at Regan. What the bloody hell was that prat doing sending his three--eleven-year-old daughter a weapon? He squeezed the back of his neck, glad that Spike wasn't there in the room with him right then. "Regan, I know you think that you can handle this, but I'm...I'm really not comfortable with you going on a hunt with me."
Not when he had already lost her once. Not when he had already lost Fred. He knew that he probably wouldn't be able to put her off forever, not with the strength of her powers, but right now, he couldn't stand the thought of taking her somewhere where he could lose her. He couldn't do it.
"Fred, I..." he started to say without thinking before he stopped himself, realizing what he was doing and letting out a sigh. He still did that on occasion - started talking to his wife like she was still there. Most times, he caught himself as soon as he started. Sometimes, he would look up, expecting an answer that would never come. Every time, it sent what felt like a dagger straight through his heart since he couldn't even pretend that she might be there in spirit.
Swallowing against the tightening in his throat, he picked up his pen again and, while holding his neck, started making notes about what he needed to take that night and who he needed to call for assistance.
He was just finishing up the list when he heard a noise and looked up to see his daughter walking into the room, holding her video recorder. With a raised eyebrow, he watched her pull the book he had just been using for his research and look at the information on the demon.
"You might be the right height, love, but there's no way I'm going to--Spike sent you what?" he asked, dropping the pen as he looked across the table at Regan. What the bloody hell was that prat doing sending his three--eleven-year-old daughter a weapon? He squeezed the back of his neck, glad that Spike wasn't there in the room with him right then. "Regan, I know you think that you can handle this, but I'm...I'm really not comfortable with you going on a hunt with me."
Not when he had already lost her once. Not when he had already lost Fred. He knew that he probably wouldn't be able to put her off forever, not with the strength of her powers, but right now, he couldn't stand the thought of taking her somewhere where he could lose her. He couldn't do it.