Angel's Offices | Los Angeles, CA | Wednesday Evening Fandom Time
From watching others attempt it, Wesley had always expected on-the-spot strategizing to be difficult -- impossible, even, coming from him -- but now he was finding that it actually wasn't all that challenging.
"Get your coat," he ordered Faith, leading her down the stairs. (As if he would let her walk behind him, not two days after what had happened.) To Angel, he explained, "Slight change of plan. In about twenty minutes, the Council's Operations Team is coming here. They'll expect to find you gone and her drugged."
Angel"How many?" Angel asked immediately, all to pleased to leave his other (evidently stressful) conversation.
Wesley"Three."
Wesley carefully pocketed the syringe he was holding and turned to face the person Angel was talking to. "Hello, Buffy. Afraid you've - ah." He'd moved to face her too quickly, inadvertently exacerbating one of the many wounds on his neck, and reached up to press his hand to the cut to keep it from opening up again. " -come at a bad time," he finished, slightly more weakly.
Buffy"Feeling that," said Buffy, obviously too irritated to notice his slip. And the moment she finished speaking, she turned back to fix her eyes on Faith.
Single-minded as ever, Wesley noted with the faintest hint of disdain.
Angel"Why'd you bring them here?" Angel asked Wesley. There wasn't judgment or blame in his tone, which was surprising, though Wesley supposed Angel might have made it clear from the start if it was a completely mad idea.
Wesley"Couldn't shake them," he said, like it was perfectly obvious. "Had to pretend I was helping them."
BuffyWhen Faith left the room, presumably to get something, only then did Buffy turn back around. "I know these guys," she said. "They're killers."
Wesley"Yes, how astute of you to recognize that," Wesley muttered, though he wasn't certain if she'd heard. "They've surrounded the building," he added, more audibly.
Angel"I'll check the sewers," said Angel. "If they're clear then we'll head out. Faith?"
He turned. So did Buffy and Wesley. But there was no one there.
WesleyWesley frowned, and he stepped (cautiously) in front of Buffy to verify that Faith was nowhere to be found.
That... couldn't be good.
"She must have slipped out."
Angel"She'd head for the roof," Angel said immediately. As Buffy headed off, he called after her, "They may have it covered!"
WesleyWesley quickly moved to Angel back, then winced at the resulting pain in his abdomen from the sudden movement. "We need a plan," he reminded Angel. "Buffy can handle Faith. The sewers are still our best route."
As they went to check the sewers from the basement entrance, Wesley had to say one more thing.
"Angel? It wasn't for her."
Angel"I know," said Angel, already out of sight.
Wesley"It's because I trust you."
"Well," Wesley amended, as he shakily clambored down to follow him, "more than three gun-toting maniacs, at any rate."
And wasn't that the mark of a beautiful friendship?
AngelThe plan was looking viable, and the sewers clear - at least until they heard the shots.
"That's coming from the roof," Angel said, immediately alert. Buffy.
WeatherbyWell, yes, it was. But it was also coming from Angel's apartment.
Weatherby stepped into view, machine gun in hand. And yes -- knowing how to shoot one of those things was a Watcher thing.
Wesley"I didn't give you the signal!" Wesley snapped, pressed up against the wall. He was immobilized, not entirely out of fear of Weatherby's aim (which he could vaguely remember having been criticized by his father on one occasion for not being entirely up to par), but by the most subtle of details: he knew immediately that the fastest path through the room, should he choose to run for it, would require him to slip in the narrow space between the couch and the wall, which would without question aggravate his injuries to the point of crumbling. What's more, even if he could make it, Wesley recognized that all it would take to bring him down would be a single shot, and not even a well-placed one in his current condition. So no, he was stuck here, at least so long as Weatherby was armed.
WeatherbyWeatherby's response to that outburst was to brandish the gun at him, growling, "Shut it."
Then he turned, whirling on Angel.
"Vampire."
Wesley"Weatherby, listen to reason," Wesley implored him, still watching closely from against the wall.
Weatherby"Reason," Weatherby jeered. "A Watcher working for a vampire." He narrowed his eyes at them. "That's perversion."
"His kind is despicable. Murderers. Done something to get in your head, I'll bet. But worse comes to worst, he'll turn on you. Turn on everyone. Or he'll make you into a killer - and who's to say that's not what he did to her?" he asked, jabbing the gun upwards in the direction of the roof.
WesleyThere was no time for this!
"Weatherby!" Wesley shouted in frustration. He could hardly think of a thing to say that might resonate, but as it turned out he didn't have to, because Weatherby cut him off.
Weatherby"Do the sacred oaths you swore to uphold as a Watcher mean nothing to you now?" Weatherby demanded.
WesleyWith that, something clicked.
"As a matter of fact, they do," he retorted. "I swore to protect the innocent." And trained for years to instantly know the fastest way out of a room - which was exactly what Weatherby was counting on.
To Angel, he shouted, "Get to the roof, go help them. Now!"
And with that he bolted across the room, but pointedly went the long way around, knowing that the extra second it would take Weatherby to redirect his fire was all that he needed.
WeatherbyAs Angel ran up the stairs, Weatherby predictably turned his gun in the direction he knew Wesley would run. "Bastard!" he shouted, hurrying (too late) to correct his aim.
WesleyPerhaps, but at least he was a decent shot.
Leaning for support against another wall just out of Weatherby's range, Wesley whipped the syringe out of his breast pocket and hurled it like a dart in Weatherby's direction, aiming -- perfectly, of course -- for his neck.
"One hundred and eighty," he murmured in triumph, and he turned around just in time to see Weatherby lean against the wall, abruptly dazed.
The walk over to his one-time colleague was incredibly painful, but worth it for the opportunity to see Weatherby sway on his feet. Then Wesley's fist shot out, knocking him over. "That's for calling me a ponce," he snapped.
As the sound of gunshots from the roof began to quiet, and with it the noise of what Wesley could only assume was a helicoptor, he sank down to a seated position against the wall. He was just about to dial the number for Portalocity before high-heeled footsteps came thundering into the room.
Buffy"Can you drive?" Buffy demanded. At Wesley's nod, she reached down (perhaps a bit more forcefully than he would have preferred) and hauled him up. "Police station. Let's go."
When Wesley let out a tiny pained noise, she slid an arm under his to help him walk. "You need some help?" she asked, more gently.
Wesley"Yes, please," he managed to squeak, leaning on her gratefully. As they made their way toward the elevator slowly but steadily, he had to ask weakly, "And also, if you wouldn't mind -- could you call me a portal, please?"
[[Warning for mild gun violence in this. Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC is love, all this was preplayed with a cool person I know called MYSELF though I stole icons from all the canonmates and old guest stars ever, what are you gonna do about it? Up early for... other stuff coming later. Shh. Follows this, this, this, this, this and this. DONE SPAMMING NOW. Almost.]]
"Get your coat," he ordered Faith, leading her down the stairs. (As if he would let her walk behind him, not two days after what had happened.) To Angel, he explained, "Slight change of plan. In about twenty minutes, the Council's Operations Team is coming here. They'll expect to find you gone and her drugged."
Angel"How many?" Angel asked immediately, all to pleased to leave his other (evidently stressful) conversation.
Wesley"Three."
Wesley carefully pocketed the syringe he was holding and turned to face the person Angel was talking to. "Hello, Buffy. Afraid you've - ah." He'd moved to face her too quickly, inadvertently exacerbating one of the many wounds on his neck, and reached up to press his hand to the cut to keep it from opening up again. " -come at a bad time," he finished, slightly more weakly.
Buffy"Feeling that," said Buffy, obviously too irritated to notice his slip. And the moment she finished speaking, she turned back to fix her eyes on Faith.
Single-minded as ever, Wesley noted with the faintest hint of disdain.
Angel"Why'd you bring them here?" Angel asked Wesley. There wasn't judgment or blame in his tone, which was surprising, though Wesley supposed Angel might have made it clear from the start if it was a completely mad idea.
Wesley"Couldn't shake them," he said, like it was perfectly obvious. "Had to pretend I was helping them."
BuffyWhen Faith left the room, presumably to get something, only then did Buffy turn back around. "I know these guys," she said. "They're killers."
Wesley"Yes, how astute of you to recognize that," Wesley muttered, though he wasn't certain if she'd heard. "They've surrounded the building," he added, more audibly.
Angel"I'll check the sewers," said Angel. "If they're clear then we'll head out. Faith?"
He turned. So did Buffy and Wesley. But there was no one there.
WesleyWesley frowned, and he stepped (cautiously) in front of Buffy to verify that Faith was nowhere to be found.
That... couldn't be good.
"She must have slipped out."
Angel"She'd head for the roof," Angel said immediately. As Buffy headed off, he called after her, "They may have it covered!"
WesleyWesley quickly moved to Angel back, then winced at the resulting pain in his abdomen from the sudden movement. "We need a plan," he reminded Angel. "Buffy can handle Faith. The sewers are still our best route."
As they went to check the sewers from the basement entrance, Wesley had to say one more thing.
"Angel? It wasn't for her."
Angel"I know," said Angel, already out of sight.
Wesley"It's because I trust you."
"Well," Wesley amended, as he shakily clambored down to follow him, "more than three gun-toting maniacs, at any rate."
And wasn't that the mark of a beautiful friendship?
AngelThe plan was looking viable, and the sewers clear - at least until they heard the shots.
"That's coming from the roof," Angel said, immediately alert. Buffy.
WeatherbyWell, yes, it was. But it was also coming from Angel's apartment.
Weatherby stepped into view, machine gun in hand. And yes -- knowing how to shoot one of those things was a Watcher thing.
Wesley"I didn't give you the signal!" Wesley snapped, pressed up against the wall. He was immobilized, not entirely out of fear of Weatherby's aim (which he could vaguely remember having been criticized by his father on one occasion for not being entirely up to par), but by the most subtle of details: he knew immediately that the fastest path through the room, should he choose to run for it, would require him to slip in the narrow space between the couch and the wall, which would without question aggravate his injuries to the point of crumbling. What's more, even if he could make it, Wesley recognized that all it would take to bring him down would be a single shot, and not even a well-placed one in his current condition. So no, he was stuck here, at least so long as Weatherby was armed.
WeatherbyWeatherby's response to that outburst was to brandish the gun at him, growling, "Shut it."
Then he turned, whirling on Angel.
"Vampire."
Wesley"Weatherby, listen to reason," Wesley implored him, still watching closely from against the wall.
Weatherby"Reason," Weatherby jeered. "A Watcher working for a vampire." He narrowed his eyes at them. "That's perversion."
"His kind is despicable. Murderers. Done something to get in your head, I'll bet. But worse comes to worst, he'll turn on you. Turn on everyone. Or he'll make you into a killer - and who's to say that's not what he did to her?" he asked, jabbing the gun upwards in the direction of the roof.
WesleyThere was no time for this!
"Weatherby!" Wesley shouted in frustration. He could hardly think of a thing to say that might resonate, but as it turned out he didn't have to, because Weatherby cut him off.
Weatherby"Do the sacred oaths you swore to uphold as a Watcher mean nothing to you now?" Weatherby demanded.
WesleyWith that, something clicked.
"As a matter of fact, they do," he retorted. "I swore to protect the innocent." And trained for years to instantly know the fastest way out of a room - which was exactly what Weatherby was counting on.
To Angel, he shouted, "Get to the roof, go help them. Now!"
And with that he bolted across the room, but pointedly went the long way around, knowing that the extra second it would take Weatherby to redirect his fire was all that he needed.
WeatherbyAs Angel ran up the stairs, Weatherby predictably turned his gun in the direction he knew Wesley would run. "Bastard!" he shouted, hurrying (too late) to correct his aim.
WesleyPerhaps, but at least he was a decent shot.
Leaning for support against another wall just out of Weatherby's range, Wesley whipped the syringe out of his breast pocket and hurled it like a dart in Weatherby's direction, aiming -- perfectly, of course -- for his neck.
"One hundred and eighty," he murmured in triumph, and he turned around just in time to see Weatherby lean against the wall, abruptly dazed.
The walk over to his one-time colleague was incredibly painful, but worth it for the opportunity to see Weatherby sway on his feet. Then Wesley's fist shot out, knocking him over. "That's for calling me a ponce," he snapped.
As the sound of gunshots from the roof began to quiet, and with it the noise of what Wesley could only assume was a helicoptor, he sank down to a seated position against the wall. He was just about to dial the number for Portalocity before high-heeled footsteps came thundering into the room.
Buffy"Can you drive?" Buffy demanded. At Wesley's nod, she reached down (perhaps a bit more forcefully than he would have preferred) and hauled him up. "Police station. Let's go."
When Wesley let out a tiny pained noise, she slid an arm under his to help him walk. "You need some help?" she asked, more gently.
Wesley"Yes, please," he managed to squeak, leaning on her gratefully. As they made their way toward the elevator slowly but steadily, he had to ask weakly, "And also, if you wouldn't mind -- could you call me a portal, please?"
[[Warning for mild gun violence in this. Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC is love, all this was preplayed with a cool person I know called MYSELF though I stole icons from all the canonmates and old guest stars ever, what are you gonna do about it? Up early for... other stuff coming later. Shh. Follows this, this, this, this, this and this. DONE SPAMMING NOW. Almost.]]