DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Joss, ME, WB, etc… own everything.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: A big thanks to Rach, Gen, Leah and everyone else who supported this fic!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For the purposes of this fic, Caritas did not get blown up by Holtz, it is open once again and Lorne resides there. The pairings are B/S and W/F. Please review! Thanks!
Friends And Enemies
Part 1
Wesley walked into the Hyperion hotel one morning, to be greeted by a highly irregular sight. Fred was in the lobby pouring tea for three men. As the door shut behind Wesley, the four other people in the room turned to him.
Fred smiled and greeted him. "Hey Wesley. Some of your friends are here."
Wesley turned his attention to the three men. Now that they were facing him, Wesley quickly recognised one of them to be Quentin Travers of the Watchers Council, he assumed that the other two were goons working for Travers. "Fred." Wesley began sternly, "Go upstairs and don't come back down until I come to get you. Now."
Fred, sensing the urgency in Wesley's tone, rapidly scurried upstairs.
Wesley walked over to the three men, swiftly picking up a broad sword as he walked past the weapons cabinet. Once he reached them, he pointed the sword at Travers, ignoring the two henchmen who were tensing at his action. "What are you doing here?" He demanded.
"Now, now Wesley, there's no need to get barbaric. I just want to talk to you." Travers explained.
"You flew across the Atlantic just to talk to me?" Wesley shot back sceptically.
"Please Wesley, I know we've had our differences in the past, but I mean you no harm." Travers assured him.
Wesley pondered this for a moment, deciding to back off. He stopped pointing his sword and sat stiffly on the couch opposite Travers. "Alright. You wanted to talk? Then start talking." Wesley said coolly.
"Well." Travers began. "It has come to the Council's attention, that the vampire Darla has, in a sense, given birth to the child of Angelus. For a child to be parented by two vampires is quite extraordinary, I'm certain you are aware of that."
Wesley looked at Travers, remaining composed. However, internally, he was extremely unnerved. "So? What's your point?" He questioned, forcing himself to remain calm.
"My point is that the Council would like to take the baby to our headquarters to examine him. We'd like to run some tests, to determine what he is exactly, then we'd give you the child back, of course." Travers summed up.
"Oh, of course." Wesley responded sarcastically. His blood was beginning to boil at the suggestion of treating little Connor like a science experiment. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you would just run some tests on him and hand him back, especially if you found something suspicious? Do you honestly believe that I'd let you?" He laughed mirthlessly.
"Now see here Wesley-"
"No, you see here!" Wesley interrupted, standing up. "I'll tell you what he is, Quentin, he is a child, a human. To be perfectly exact, he is a human that you will not be getting your hands on. Now get the hell out of here before I do something that you'll regret." He finished dangerously.
Travers and his men stood. "I'm sorry it has to be this way." He said sadly.
"I'm not." Wesley bit out sharply.
"You will be." Travers responded cryptically.
This angered Wesley. "The council no longer has any power over me. They haven't for a long time."
"Am I to understand that you are questioning the authority of the Council?" Travers asked, disbelieving. "My, my Wesley. You should know better."
Wesley stared at him maliciously, he refused to be fazed by this sniveling bureaucrat. With a simple snort, Quentin Travers exited the hotel with his two lackeys in tow.
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Later that evening, Fred and Wesley sat in the Hotel's courtyard, enjoying the cool breeze. Both were pondering about the visit from the Council of Watchers. They had told the rest of the gang about it, and they all came to the agreement that they would try not to worry about it because they were unable to do anything until the Council made a move. That was, if they made a move. However, Wesley was certain that they would. It was this fact that had prompted Angel to go to the Furies to get a protection spell placed on Connor's crib. The spell was done so that if anyone other than the members of Angel Investigations tried to touch the crib, they would be instantly repelled. Hence, when Connor was in his crib, he was safe.
However, the spell did little to allay Wesley's fears. The fact of the matter was that the Council were cunning, resourceful and ruthless. They would try to get to Connor however they could. It was this feeling of uncertainty that hung over Wesley like a dark cloud. Just like when I was working for them.
So there they sat. Wesley, with his head in his hands, worrying about the Council and Connor. Fred, next to him, also worried about Connor, but more worried about the toll this was taking on Wesley. Nobody had told her much about the Council of Watchers, just that Wesley used to work for them as a watcher, that they were tied in with the Slayer (but both Slayers had defected from the Council and now have nothing to do with them) and that they were not to be trusted.
But what really had Fred bothered was the fact that Wesley seemed so disturbed by their presence in LA. In all the time that Fred had known Wesley, she knew him to be very strong, not just physically, but emotionally. He was amazing that way, he would take charge all the time, but only when it was necessary. Other times he would be so nice… and gentle… and caring, so very caring… and sweet…and cute… and handsome… and I just love how he cleans his glasses when he's nervous or worried, it soo adorable… and I wish he'd realise that I like him…Ok! Stop it! Getting dangerously off-topic! She silently reprimanded herself.
She looked over at him. He still had his head in his hands, his glasses were dangling between his fingers by the tip of the side part of the frame. How can someone so strong-willed be so worried? He's almost intimidated. Fred frowned, and began to speak to him softly. "Wesley? Are you alright?"
Wesley heard her, but didn't respond. After a moment she laid a hand on his slumped shoulders and tried again. "Is it the Council that has you all…" She searched for a suitable word. "… Depressed?"
At this, Wesley sat up, put his glasses on and looked at her, pain etched on his face. "Yes." He said simply.
"You're worried about Connor? It's ok. We all are." She assured him.
"It's not just that." He said hesitantly. "Thinking about the Council brings bad associations. So seeing them again is not much fun."
"What kind of associations?" Fred asked.
"Well, lets just say that my time spent as a watcher was not the most successful or rewarding point in my life." He quietly responded.
Fred saw that this was difficult for him to talk about, so she decided not to push. "I'm sorry Wesley." She whispered, feeling the need to say more. "Don't let the Council get you down. Whatever you were then, doesn't matter… What matters is who you are now, and right now you are successful. You lead us… You lead us and together we help people, and you're so good at it. We make a difference, and that is the most rewarding thing we can do… help people, and make a difference in their lives." Tentatively she placed her arm around his strong shoulders and drew him to her.
Wesley rested his head on her shoulder and snaked his arm around her waist. He was concerned that he had overstepped the boundaries of their relationship with his intimate gesture, but when she remained relaxed and did not protest, his worries melted away. "Thank you Fred, thank you so very much." He said, sighing deeply.
Fred said nothing, only smiling and hugging Wesley a little tighter, in response. Then he spoke again. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we never went to Pylea and got you out… I really don't know what I'd do if you weren't around."
"Oh you give me too much credit." Fred blushed. "It's not like I do much around here anyway."
"But you do! You do!" He replied adamantly.
Fred was slightly puzzled by the notion that she was priceless to the team and decided not to respond. Instead both her and Wesley sat, comfortably wrapped around each other, silently reassuring each other that they were significant and needed.
The pair were in such blissful serenity, that neither of them noticed, the pinprick of red light or the barely audible beeping coming from the listening device taped underneath the stone bench.
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