The Collecting of Thoughts

[prodigalwatcher]

Even after she and then Cordelia had both left the office, after custodial services had cleared away the remnants of our feast, Fred's words regarding her unusual experiences so far this day stayed with me.

"Well, when I got here this morning, other than I visit to drop off some mail... I haven't seen anyone today, I mean any of ya'll. I went

Comments

[pryce_the_elder]

With the questions piling up, and the answers being nowhere near as numerous, both Kennedy and myself were very close to the limits of our patience. The young woman's face turned serious and determined, and I at last was seeing the strength that the survivors of Sunnydale had described, and not a moment too soon.

All but storming past the receptionists on the ground floor, we were entirely unmolested as we entered the express lifts to the executive offices. We were only irritated by the tinny, banal music filtering through the car's speakers for a minute or two before the doors opened on a massive lobby, done in typical, emotionless 'modern' décor, all polished woods and brushed aluminium.

Kennedy began to step toward the expansive desk that denoted Angel's receptionist, but I turned almost on instinct down the side hallway. The vampire was not the first one to whom I wished to speak. No, that dubious honour had to belong to my wayward son, Wesley.

My frown cut even deeper into my expression. The boy had been disappointing enough as a young Watcher, despite the potential he'd apparently shown to his instructors and my peers. As for his actual career as a Watcher proper, well... the less said about that, the better. And now, the boy was in league with one of the most horrific muderers Europe had ever known, ensconced in the most evil corporate entity on this plane of existence.

What in the blazes was the boy thinking? Was he thinking at all?

I knew it was his office, somehow, without even noting the brass nameplate beside the door. Pushing open the door, I was stunned almost speechless by the sight of Wesley standing opposite an attractive, if severe-looking woman, clearly incensed at my son. I wasn't surprised. I was, though, taken aback when the woman slapped Wesley sharply across the face.

"You know what, you have some damn nerve for treating me the way you did earlier. Want to know what that's for, lover boy? That's for kissing me back."

Crossing my arms, I coughed, announcing my presence.

"Well, I have to admit, Wesley, you have at last caught me completely by surprise."

[dark_wesley]

My hand had hovered over the receiver for only a second or two before the office door swung open, skimming fast over the carpet propelled by the force of nature stepping through the opening. Lilah entered my office, like the leading edge of a storm, already disrupted, but holding the promise of chaos, destruction and rage behind her. And the way her eyes bored holes into my own also promised the thunder to come.

I was on my feet and around the desk in a heartbeat, ready to meet the tempest head-on. Ther was nothing that Lilah could say that would faze me now.

"You know what, you have some damn nerve for treating me the way you did earlier. Want to know what that's for, lover boy? That's for kissing me back."

Lilah's hand was a blur, and then my vision flashed white for a blink, accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain. My eyes widened as my own hand reached up to my face, touching the still-tender spot and scratching absently at the stubble beneath.

Something cold and angry began to grow quickly in my gut and moved upward. Of all the damned problems happening in this building, to all of us, and this was the one that kept coming back to haunt me. A harsh retort-- something nearly formed, something to the effect of my remembering how much Lilah had liked similar actions on my part in the bast.

I never got to voice the repsonse, of course, as I at last noticed that the door had swung open a second time. The moment joined the ranks of greatest all-time worst moments in anyone's life as I watched my Father enter the room and assume the most disdainful, superior expression I'd ever him wear.

"Well, I have to admit, Wesley, you have at last caught me completely by surprise."

My head dropped unti my chin almost touched my chest.

"Father," I said with hopefully enough feigned contrition and regret to satisfy the man, "I didn't know you were coming, Father-- Is mother with you? What brings you to Los Angeles?"

As if I didn't know. The Council. They were still watching us, and now, they'd sent him. As if, I repeated, we didn't have enough problems.

I moved away from Lilah, my hand grazing the top of my desk, accidentally sending a tower of papers fluttering to the floor and flying all over the floor.

"Blast it," I muttered, before stooping to gather a few handfuls of paper abefore giving up. I looked helplessly up at my Father before giving up the effort. I stood, attempting to straighten my shirt and recover whatever might be left of my dignity.

I discovered that it was very little, indeed, when I caught the barely-constrained laugh hiding behind Lilah's upraised hand. At last, I remembered my manners.

"Father, this is Lilah Morgan, one of our liaisons here to the, ah, Senior Partners. Lilah Morgan, my father, Roger Wyndam-Pryce."

[da_lilah]

A polite if somewhat pointed cough brought me back to my senses. I turned around to see a wizened, and yet stately older man standing with arms crossed in the doorway.

"Well, I have to admit, Wesley, you have at last caught me completely by surprise."

Judging from the man's british accent, and hawkish demeanor, I concluded that his had to be none other than Wesley's infamous father. Which of course was confirmed when Wesley transformed from an outraged lover into a bumbling son trying appease an unforgiving parent in the blink of an eye.

It was really quite remarkable to watch the proverbial train wreck as Wesley up-ended a stack of papers, and tried in vain to rescue the situation with a few nervous pleasantries. A part of me was very amused by it all. And another, deeper part of me, hidden and tucked away somewhere actually felt sorry for him. Wesley hadn't told me much about his father in our time together, but he hadn't needed to. I knew the signs. I'd seen how Wesley had turned out, knew what buttons to push to set him off. I'd caught a glimpse of the boy who'd been prodded and browbeaten into a shape fit to be a watcher.

"Father, this is Lilah Morgan, one of our liaisons here to the, ah, Senior Partners. Lilah Morgan, my father, Roger Wyndam-Pryce."

I put on my most charming and benign smile and held out my hand. I figured it was best to pretend that Roger hadn't witnessed the little altercation before. Fleetingly I wondered if would it make Wesley jealous if I flirted shamefully with his father.

"Mr Wyndam-Pryce. Well, this is an honor. Wesley's told me virtually nothing about you at all, and I can see why. I assumed you'd be much older, and less...commanding." I moved forward and spoke in a consipiratorial tone to him. "I know what you're thinking. Formerly evil law firm, vampire running the show, how could your son possibly be mixed up with all of this? I assure you, Roger, may I call you Roger? that Wesley is, and will always be, one of the good guys."

I darted a glance back at Wesley. Why was I doing this? Defending him? Normally I would have gleefully fanned the flames. Years of pent up bitterness, disappointment, resentment and failed expectations, all wrapped up in a nice neat father/son package, ready to be opened with the tug of a well placed barb from me.

But for some reason I couldn't do it. The expression on Wesley's face was one I'd never seen before. Hurt, lost, embarrassed...

"And actually, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to give Wesley my report on an important case he's been overseeing, that you might also have a vested interest in. Seeing how it's about one of yours..."

I turned to Wesley and hoped he'd catch on quickly enough to play along.

"We still haven't been able to identify the body, but we're working on it. All we know is that she claimed to be a watcher, and was in contact with Faith and Kennedy. Fred is down in the lab performing the autopsy as you requested, and I was just about to deliver her a sample of fluid from the Permanent Storage facility. So shall we go down and see what progress has been made?"