Disclaimer: We don't own Angel the Series or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All rights to Joss Whedon, et cetera.

I'd Rather Walk a Winding Road

By Alkeni and carry-on-my-wayward-wesley/SqueakyTheDuck

Chapter 1: I'm Not Doing This

It hadn't worked.

Wesley didn't know what motivated the others to get into the limo this morning. Was it curiosity, temptation, the exhaustion they all felt seeping into their bones after everything they'd been through?

He couldn't speak for his teammates. Wesley only knew why he was here. It was the only chance he would ever have to give Lilah some peace, to burn her contract and free her from the Senior Partners' unrelenting grasp. She may have been evil, but she didn't deserve to continue in this half-alive state for all eternity.

He saw his chance. He took it. It hadn't worked.

Flames wouldn't be eternal if they consumed anything.

Wesley closed his eyes and took a breath as he walked into the lobby.

You couldn't save me...from me.

As Lilah said, she knew what she signed up for.

There was a lot that could be gained from taking the offer. But if he did...

Well, Wesley knew what he'd be signing up for.

He was barely paying attention to his surroundings as he approached the center of the lobby, and was nearly bowled over by Fred as Lorne sent her into a carefree spin. Her hands rested on his chest for one all-too-brief second as she stabilized herself, then she stepped away from him and pushed her hair back, smiling in mild embarrassment.

"Guess we're all straggling back," she looked him over. "Some more straggly than others. Are you—"

"Just...a lot to take in," Wesley said, a little evasive. "A lot to think about."

Before Fred could press him for more, an elevator opened and Gunn walked out, looking grim and serious as he joined his teammates. He'd done some significant thinking of his own, by the looks of it.

"You look—" Fred started, walking towards him. "Did they make you taller?"

"I'm doing this," Gunn said. "Hope it's not just me, but if it is, that's all right too."

Wesley remained silent.

"Charles, are you saying we should take the deal?" Fred asked. She sounded half horrified and half relieved. Horrified at the prospect of going to work for the enemy and relieved that she wasn't the only one considering it.

"I already took it."

The group turned to see Angel at the foot of the stairs. He looked rather the worse for wear. His jacket was scuffed, his hair tousled. Blood from a wound he was ignoring trickled down the side of his face.

"You took the deal?" Wesley asked.

"Executive decision," Angel said, his voice tight.

Wesley had the distinct sense that he had missed something. Angel wasn't the type to be swayed by a swanky office. Whatever Wolfram & Hart was offering him must've been pretty serious. "I didn't think you'd—"

"Know a silver platter when he was handed one?" Lilah broke in, joining the group. She looked around at them and smirked. "I'm impressed with the lot of you. Team Angel. All growed up."

Angel crossed his arms and scowled. "Is it taken care of?" he muttered.

Lilah nodded. "Cordelia's safe and sound. Probably getting a manicure and a blow-dry as we speak."

"You found Cordy?" Fred started to smile, then faltered. "And she's—"

"Still in a coma," Lilah finished. "But hey, doesn't mean she can't look her best. She'll receive the finest care. Medical and metaphysical. If there is a way to get her back, we'll find it."

"Good," Angel said. "Just one more piece of business. I gotta see him."

"I'm sorry, Angel," Lilah said, clearly not. "But that wasn't the deal."

"Value of compromise," Angel shot back her own words. "Remember, Lilah? I need to see him."

She shrugged and handed him the amulet and folder. "You're the boss. There'll be a limo waiting outside. It'll take you to see Connor."

"Who's Connor?" Fred whispered to Gunn and Wesley. If Angel heard the question—and he almost certainly did, what with his superhuman hearing—he ignored it.

"Thank you," Angel said to Lilah. He closed his hand around the amulet and walked toward his friends, then past them without stopping.

"Angel," Wesley said.

Angel turned to him.

Wesley stepped a little closer and lowered his voice. "Angel...I don't care about your executive decision. I'm not doing this. I'm not taking the deal."

Angel blinked, then frowned. Wesley offered no further explanation, but held Angel's gaze evenly and refused to budge, standing in silent rebellion of their leader until the vampire was forced to acquiesce.

"It's your choice, Wes," Angel said at last. "What are you gonna do?"

"Don't know," Wesley said, sounding almost cavalier. "Haven't thought that far ahead. I do think I could use a change of scenery."

"You mean you're not staying in LA?" Fred asked, taking a tentative step forward.

Wesley turned and met her gaze. The look in her eyes was one of disappointment, a silent plea for him to change his mind, and it almost made him want to reconsider the whole thing. Sign the contract. Work for the enemy. Compromise his morals and question himself at every turn. Anything to stay near the woman he loved.

Almost.

"No. I'm not."

"Where you gonna go?" Gunn asked him.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Wesley's mouth. "Don't know that, either."

There was something strangely liberating about the unknown.

Goodbyes were never easy when you cared about the people you were leaving behind.

Of course he fully intended to stay in touch, perhaps even visit someday. They were still his friends. That didn't change just because he couldn't bring himself to make the same choice as them.

Packing up his car wasn't a simple proposition. It's a little hard to know what to bring when you have no idea where you're going.

Wesley shoved another box—this one filled with books—into the remaining space behind the backseat, then stopped to take a breather. He sat on the back bumper, and the open hatchback of his SUV cast a long shadow above him. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the sun through the front windshield. It was just beginning to sink behind the row of houses across the street. It would be dark soon. Wesley liked travelling at night.

He remembered the long nights spent on the open road during his days as a rogue demon hunter. In those early days, he had travelled under cover of darkness, tracking and killing demons by night, sleeping the morning away in dirty roadside motels, and spending the early afternoon hours in sleazy, out-of-the-way bars, where he challenged locals to games of darts or pool and gathered intel on demonic activity. At sundown he would leave with his winnings and whatever new information he had picked up, and the cycle would begin again. It was a rough, lonely six months, but looking back on it now, Wesley was suddenly overcome by an odd pang of nostalgia.

He laughed out loud, without really knowing why. The sky darkened around him, and he sobered again. It was almost time to leave. He just needed to grab a few more things.

He slid off the bumper and made his way up the walk, where the last of his things sat waiting for him in two large boxes. Wesley hefted the lighter one, thinking maybe he could stack them and carry both at once.

"Why do I have so much damn stuff?" he muttered, setting the slightly smaller box on top of the bigger one with a grunt.

He turned and looked at his car in the fading light, and for the briefest moment, he was tempted to ditch the SUV, take off on his motorcycle, and try to recreate his rogue demon hunter days. They weren't all bad, after all.

But he wasn't the same man he was four years ago, and as much as he longed to be on his motorcycle again, to ride free with the wind whipping his clothes and the adrenaline rushing through his veins with every sharp turn, it just wasn't practical anymore. He had too much to bring with him this time.

The last time he'd packed up and left a town in the dust, it was under very different circumstances. He left Sunnydale because staying was impossible. He was leaving L.A. because staying was far too possible.

When he'd left Sunnydale after his disastrous tenure as Watcher, the few things he took with him could fit inside a single suitcase. He had a lot more this time—not just books and weapons, but keepsakes, mementos, a few birthday presents from his teammates, reminders of the friends he'd made here, bits and pieces of his successes, small but meaningful tokens of the life he'd built for himself.

Three and a half months in Sunnydale left him with nothing. Three and a half years in Los Angeles gave him everything. A team. A family. A purpose. It was going to take a lot more willpower to walk away this time. He had more to leave behind than just salted earth and ashes in his wake.

Wesley crossed his arms and leaned against the stacked boxes in quiet reflection. A street light flickered on above him, bathing him in its lonely orange glow.

"Need a hand?"

Wesley looked up and saw Angel standing in front of him. He hadn't heard the vampire approach. He let the surprise register on his face for a second, then he stood up straight and gestured to the boxes. Angel took one of them, Wesley picked up the other, and they walked to the car together.

The two men were silent as they rearranged things in the back of the car and made room for the remaining boxes. When it was done, Wesley stepped back and pulled the hatch down, locking it into place.

Angel leaned back against the grey-brown vehicle. "We're all gonna miss you, Wes."

Wesley slid his hands into his pockets and mimicked Angel's stance. He tilted his head and regarded the vampire contemplatively.

"I won't ask you to reconsider," Angel went on. "Because I know you're past that point."

Wesley nodded.

"But I do wish you'd explain your reason why," Angel finished. He looked at Wesley, waiting, hoping for a response.

It didn't come.

"Y'know," Angel said, a hint of a smile taking the edge off the frustration in his voice. "Sometimes I really hate it when you remind me of me."

Wesley chuckled, and Angel pushed himself off the car and turned to face his friend.

"Goodbye, Wesley."

Wesley smiled and extended his hand. To his surprise, Angel pushed away the handshake and pulled him into a tight hug instead. Wesley paused, momentarily caught off-guard, and then returned the embrace.

After a long moment, they pulled away, and Angel stepped back as Wesley made his way around to the driver's seat and got in. He tugged the seatbelt over his shoulder, put the keys in the ignition, and shifted out of park.

As he drove away, the rearview mirror showed only an empty street behind him, but Wesley didn't need to see a reflection to know Angel was still there, watching the departing vehicle until it disappeared from sight.