Chapter: 2 - Father Knows Best

Universe: Angel, Season 5. Cannon-ish.

Pairing: Fred/Wes

Episodic Timeline: Lineage

A/N: Was brought to my attention that I accidentally made Spike corporeal... whoops. Ignoring that little misstep from Chapter 1, everything else should only deter from the Cannon slightly. My apologies.

Roger Wyndam-Pryce glanced down at the tiny kitten. "Working hard, I see." His steely gaze traveled upwards to meet his son's baffled expression.

"Yes, uh, just catching this kitten for uh..." He trailed off, at a complete loss for words. One sentence from his father and Wesley already felt like an utter fool.

"He was catching it for me." Fred stepped up to shake his father's hand. "Fred Burkle. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Wesley's father nodded slightly. "The pleasure is all mine."

Fred smiled enchantingly, and took the kitten from the startled Wesley.

"What are you doing here?" Wesley asked, following his father's fast clip into the lobby.

Roger Wyndam-Pryce stopped, and turned to face his son. "Council business. Where's your office?"

Wesley blinked a few times before regaining his composure and pointing down the hall. "This way." He offered, turning to say goodbye to Fred, but she was already gone.

"So," Wesley's father glanced around his son's office. "This is the great Wolfram and Hart." He shook his head.

"I know you probably don't condone my working here, but I promise you, we are doing good. Fighting evil from the belly of the beast." Wesley assured his father.

"Does it matter what I condone? You'd make your own choices regardless. No matter how misguided." Roger Wyndam-Pryce replied.

Hurt flickered through Wesley's blue eyes. He cleared his throat and regrouped. "So,"

"Yes, right. I'm here on official Council business. I assume you heard what happened." Wesley's father stated. "The Council asked me to come evaluate you. To see if you are fit to be reinstated. Although, we do view your tenure as Watcher as one of our most embarrassing mishaps."

"More embarrassing then everyone being blown up?" Wesley shook his head. "Don't waste your time. I'm perfectly happy right where I am."

Roger Wyndam-Pryce clucked his tongue in distaste. "Here. At Wolfram and Hart."

Wesley glared at the carpet. "Yes, here at Wolfram and Hart."

Wesley's father shook his head. "I see."

Wesley turned to his father, "I don't expect you to understand."

Just then, there was a light knock on the door and it opened slightly. "Uhm, Wesley?"

Suddenly a small smile broke out on Wesley's face. "Yes, Fred. Come in."

"We were just taking apart the cyborg. And it's really intricate. Like an M.C Escher picture, but with wires and circuits instead of birds." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, there's some symbols we need you to decipher, do you think you could...?"

Wesley nodded. "Certainly." He followed Fred out of his office; his father by his side.

"Cyborgs?" Roger Wyndam-Pryce questioned.

"Yes, we were attacked this morning while infiltrating a weapons ring." Wesley explained; he held the lab door open for Fred.

"Find anything else, Knox?" Fred asked, coming up next to the autopsy table that the cyborg was spread out on.

"Nope. But we'll hack into it eventually. The software uses some kind of binary system." Knox replied, glancing up from his computer screen."Be careful when you take a look at that, there seems to be some sort of fail-safe." Knox warned Wesley.

"A bomb as a self-destruct mechanism." Fred offered.

Wesley nodded and took a look inside the cyborg's gut.

Angel sidled up to the gang gathered around the autopsy table. "I'm Angel, it's a pleasure to..." He held his hand out.

Wesley's father glanced down at it. "You don't expect me to shake that."

Angel took his hand back. "Uhm, no." He turned to Wesley. "You get a read on any of that?"

Wesley had on his 'pondering' face. "The pattern indicates a Hellenic derivation. I'd say early Moracian, in fact. It's a directive of some sort, a battle prayer... or a binding spell. The full text is obscured." Wesley shifted the metal disk in order to get a better look. A rapid beeping began to sound through the lab; the metal disk clicked and whirred.

Roger Wyndam-Pryce snapped to attention. "What did you do?"

Wesley's eyes widened in panic, "Unless I'm very mistaken, I've just activated the bomb..."

The lab flew into a state of panic. "Get everybody out of here!" Wesley ordered. The employees began to flee; Angel led them out.

Fred fiddled with the bomb-mechanism. "There has to be some way to shut it down, a way to disconnect it maybe."

"I've got no clue!" Knox replied.

Wesley gripped Fred's wrist. "Fred, you've got to get out of here!"

Her brown eyes widened. "What about you?"

"I'll try to disable it in time, get as far away from the building-"

The beeping stopped abruptly. The panic ebbed just as quickly.

Everyone turned to Roger Wyndam-Pryce, who had saved the day.

"These symbols were, in fact, Dutrovic in origin, not Moracian, as you surmised. When interpreted correctly, these symbols spell out the proper procedure for handling the cyborg's power core, including this fail-safe, in case someone trips the self-destruct device. Quite simple really."

Wesley glanced down at the floor, feeling quite small, wishing he could just disappear into the tile beneath his shoes.

A/N: Reviews are loved.