A/N I thought I'd have another clear out of some old fics. Enjoy! Remember to review please.
For Roger Wyndam-Pryce it was just another workday. He had been one of the few lucky men who hadn't died in the explosion of the Watcher's council and had caved in immediately to Mr Giles' changes, therefore he had been kept on. He hummed tunelessly as he picked up a morning paper, without glancing at the headline, and strode purposefully into the building, ready to make his morning cup of tea.
However, there was something strange going on that morning. A very large amount of his colleagues were bunched around the tiny screen in the reception watching the BBC News. As soon as they noticed him, they parted to let him to the front.
"…and the latest on the Los Angeles crisis. The city has been completely evacuated. There is no news yet on the cause of the earthquakes and freak fires but the epicentre appears to be on Hyperion Avenue, not far from the Wolfram and Hart law firm building which has completely collapsed. Unfortunately, it is too early to assess the extent of the damage and the number of survivors…"
Roger's eyes widened and he dropped his newspaper. Pitying eyes stared as he scampered to his office. The phone rang.
"Wyndam-Pryce," he answered curtly.
"Roger, this is Rupert," the other man told him. "I presume you've heard…"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm at the Hyperion Hotel now with a team of Slayers…"
Mr Wyndam-Pryce's voice dropped to a concerned whisper.
"My boy. My Wesley, is he okay?"
Giles' response was quick and to the point. "We have yet to ascertain what has happened; we've only just arrived. Miss Lehane and a young man who claims to be Angel's son got rid of the demons with some sort of portal. I'll keep you posted."
"Thank you, Rupert," he said and hung up with a sharp click.
In shock, he stared at the one photograph on his bare desk. It was the most recent picture of him and his son, at the latter's graduation from the Watcher's academy. Staring into the excited eyes, he began to cry.
Mr Giles didn't keep his word. Five days of radio silence followed but on the fifth he was interrupted by a knock on the door.
The man standing there was heavily bandaged, bent over and looked like hell. For a second, Roger's heart soared with hope. Yet the man wasn't Wesley. His frame was too broad, his arms too muscled and his eyes too old. It was in that instant that Roger finally realised his son wasn't coming back.
"Angel."
"Mr Wyndam-Pryce," Angel countered.
"Do come in."
Angel complied. There was an awkward silence as both men failed to say what they knew in their hearts.
"He was a hero," he vampire finally said. "It was a suicide mission. We all knew it. I didn't think I'd…"
The silence continued.
Angel put the bulky folder he was carrying onto Roger's desk.
"A copy of his Watcher's diary. If it were me I'd want to know," he sighed. "Everything's there: Faith to Fred to Connor to Wolfram and Hart."
He pulled a photo from his jacket. It was Roger's Wesley but without the glasses and with a substantial amount of facial hair; he was with a pretty girl and seemed happy.
"Fred," Angel said. "He loved her for years. They were together a week. She's gone now. They're all gone."
Leaving the photo on the desk, Angel turned to leave.
"Thank you," Mr Wyndam-Pryce said quietly.
Whilst the vampire made no indication he'd heard, Roger knew he had.
He ran his hand across the folder. It contained his son's history, all the way up to the end: Los Angeles, May 2004. It was a history that Roger had refused to be a part of. He had refused to know his son but now, thanks to a vampire of all things, he could.
He flipped it open and his son's beautiful handwriting jumped out at him.
The Watcher's Diary of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
LONDON, ENGLAND, JANUARY 1999
He began to read.
