A/N: Only a few more chapters now. I hope the plot twists haven't *all* been obvious. =)
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Chapter Fourteen
Wesley knew the moment he stood up that something was going very wrong. Either he was allergic to something, or the combination of magic, drugs, and alcohol in his system was turning sour. Regardless, he was very grateful that Jonathan had chosen "the white hat business". Wes was still curious as to the young man's true purpose for being in Los Angeles, and what Ethan had meant about the boy's activities this past year, but questions could wait until some other day.
Slowly, the pair made their way out of the bar. Jonathan paused on the sidewalk out front, a little courtesy that Wes was very grateful for. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and his balance was rather shaky.
"Uh, are you okay?" Jonathan was tugging at his arm. "Should I call an ambulance or something?"
An ambulance would be nice. Hospital would be better. Neither was a good idea at this point, however. Wes swallowed, and opened his mouth to frame an answer, but was cut off by a familiar voice from the sidewalk behind them.
"Yeah, you might want to do that." Was that Angel? Here? Now? Bugger ...
The voice continued. "Daniel Holtz and Riley Finn. You just made my day." Fist at Wes' shirtfront, a flash of Angel's angry face, and then he was in the air. For half a second, there was the sensation of giddy flight, then more pain and a wall of blackness. Wes closed his eyes, and knew no more.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, Wesley became aware that he was flat on his back on cold concrete. His ribs were aching and his neck was throbbing, but for some reason his mind was a lot clearer. There were voices going on somewhere above him, and after a moment, he was able to concentrate enough to decipher what they were saying.
" ... sure he's going to be okay?" That was Angel, sounding anxious.
"He should be. He's breathing again, and I know I got the alcohol out of his system. It must have been reacting with something else he's taking, or something Ethan did to him." That was Jonathan.
"That's what you were doing? I didn't know there were spells for that."
"What, getting rid of alcohol? Duh. Teenagers invented that one a long, long time ago."
An actual chuckle from Angel. Wesley furrowed his brow. Angel, in a better mood? What ...
"Look! He's waking up!" Cool fingers, there, on Wes' forehead. "Wesley, can you hear me?"
Wes' eyes fluttered open. "Angel," he said, weakly. "Can explain ..."
"Shhh," Angel said. "You're so sorry, right? Well so am I. Does that sum it up? We can get into the blaming and brooding later. For now, we need to get you back to the Hyperion. Where's your keys?"
Wes fumbled with his pockets. "Luggage in room 12 ..."
"On it," Jonathan said. He took the keys from Wes' unsteady hand. "Did you bring your own car?"
Car? Ha. Wes smiled a little. "With leather pants? Try motorcycle."
Jonathan's eyes widened. "That's yours?" He looked over at Angel. "Can I drive it back to wherever for you guys? I promise I won't wreck it."
"Ask him, not me." Angel shrugged.
"Go ahead," Wes said. "I'm unable to at the moment, and I'd prefer not to leave it here."
Jonathan's face lit up with a delighted smile. "Yes! I mean, sorry you can't and all, but ... hey." Then he shifted, addressing Angel again. "I'll bring all the luggage over, then get the bike and follow you back. Where did you say your car was?"
"About a block that way," the vampire agreed, pointing an arm down the street. "I'll put Wes in the back seat and wait for you."
"Got it."
Very unusual, this being fussed over by Angel. Especially after losing Connor. It made Wes feel a little uneasy, but he wasn't exactly in a position to protest. What was he going to say? "Leave me here, I'm not worthy?" It might be true, but it would also be very stupid.
Angel carried him easily down the street, then laid him carefully on the back seat of the convertible. It still smelled faintly of the cleaners Angel had used after Darla's water broke in the car. Wes tried to say something again, anything, a thank-you maybe, or a promise to get Connor back, but Angel shushed him once more.
"Rest, Wes. Holtz is around here somewhere -- that's why I was out hunting to begin with. Let's save the talking until we're back in the hotel." Angel slid into the front seat and started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
A few minutes passed like that in relative silence. Then, footsteps approached. Angel shifted his attention to the sidewalk, and Wes saw him do an obvious double-take. "Oh," he said. "Jonathan! You're you again, too." A pause. "I do remember you, kind of. Weren't you helping us with the whole Mayor thing?"
Jonathan leaned over the passenger door and put Wes' suitcases and a duffel on the seat. Angel was right; Wes remembered seeing this short young man in Sunnydale. Hadn't there been a rifle involved at some point? Hard to remember.
He'd never have guessed then, but now that he knew, he could see the traces of Ethan in the boy's face. The world really *was* a small place -- at least, if the Hellmouth was involved.
"Yeah." Jonathan was answering Angel's question. "Larry and I were helping out with the bomb stuff ..."
"What was that about talking later?" Wes interrupted quietly, with a faint smile.
Angel snorted, then turned the key in the ignition. "Smart ass."
... Wait a minute, Wesley thought, watching Jonathan walk away towards where the motorcycle was parked. "You're you again, too?" he repeated silently, then sat up carefully and glanced in one of the car mirrors. Sure enough, Wes was Wes again. But hadn't Ethan said it would take a few days for that to happen?
TBC
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Chapter Fourteen
Wesley knew the moment he stood up that something was going very wrong. Either he was allergic to something, or the combination of magic, drugs, and alcohol in his system was turning sour. Regardless, he was very grateful that Jonathan had chosen "the white hat business". Wes was still curious as to the young man's true purpose for being in Los Angeles, and what Ethan had meant about the boy's activities this past year, but questions could wait until some other day.
Slowly, the pair made their way out of the bar. Jonathan paused on the sidewalk out front, a little courtesy that Wes was very grateful for. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and his balance was rather shaky.
"Uh, are you okay?" Jonathan was tugging at his arm. "Should I call an ambulance or something?"
An ambulance would be nice. Hospital would be better. Neither was a good idea at this point, however. Wes swallowed, and opened his mouth to frame an answer, but was cut off by a familiar voice from the sidewalk behind them.
"Yeah, you might want to do that." Was that Angel? Here? Now? Bugger ...
The voice continued. "Daniel Holtz and Riley Finn. You just made my day." Fist at Wes' shirtfront, a flash of Angel's angry face, and then he was in the air. For half a second, there was the sensation of giddy flight, then more pain and a wall of blackness. Wes closed his eyes, and knew no more.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, Wesley became aware that he was flat on his back on cold concrete. His ribs were aching and his neck was throbbing, but for some reason his mind was a lot clearer. There were voices going on somewhere above him, and after a moment, he was able to concentrate enough to decipher what they were saying.
" ... sure he's going to be okay?" That was Angel, sounding anxious.
"He should be. He's breathing again, and I know I got the alcohol out of his system. It must have been reacting with something else he's taking, or something Ethan did to him." That was Jonathan.
"That's what you were doing? I didn't know there were spells for that."
"What, getting rid of alcohol? Duh. Teenagers invented that one a long, long time ago."
An actual chuckle from Angel. Wesley furrowed his brow. Angel, in a better mood? What ...
"Look! He's waking up!" Cool fingers, there, on Wes' forehead. "Wesley, can you hear me?"
Wes' eyes fluttered open. "Angel," he said, weakly. "Can explain ..."
"Shhh," Angel said. "You're so sorry, right? Well so am I. Does that sum it up? We can get into the blaming and brooding later. For now, we need to get you back to the Hyperion. Where's your keys?"
Wes fumbled with his pockets. "Luggage in room 12 ..."
"On it," Jonathan said. He took the keys from Wes' unsteady hand. "Did you bring your own car?"
Car? Ha. Wes smiled a little. "With leather pants? Try motorcycle."
Jonathan's eyes widened. "That's yours?" He looked over at Angel. "Can I drive it back to wherever for you guys? I promise I won't wreck it."
"Ask him, not me." Angel shrugged.
"Go ahead," Wes said. "I'm unable to at the moment, and I'd prefer not to leave it here."
Jonathan's face lit up with a delighted smile. "Yes! I mean, sorry you can't and all, but ... hey." Then he shifted, addressing Angel again. "I'll bring all the luggage over, then get the bike and follow you back. Where did you say your car was?"
"About a block that way," the vampire agreed, pointing an arm down the street. "I'll put Wes in the back seat and wait for you."
"Got it."
Very unusual, this being fussed over by Angel. Especially after losing Connor. It made Wes feel a little uneasy, but he wasn't exactly in a position to protest. What was he going to say? "Leave me here, I'm not worthy?" It might be true, but it would also be very stupid.
Angel carried him easily down the street, then laid him carefully on the back seat of the convertible. It still smelled faintly of the cleaners Angel had used after Darla's water broke in the car. Wes tried to say something again, anything, a thank-you maybe, or a promise to get Connor back, but Angel shushed him once more.
"Rest, Wes. Holtz is around here somewhere -- that's why I was out hunting to begin with. Let's save the talking until we're back in the hotel." Angel slid into the front seat and started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
A few minutes passed like that in relative silence. Then, footsteps approached. Angel shifted his attention to the sidewalk, and Wes saw him do an obvious double-take. "Oh," he said. "Jonathan! You're you again, too." A pause. "I do remember you, kind of. Weren't you helping us with the whole Mayor thing?"
Jonathan leaned over the passenger door and put Wes' suitcases and a duffel on the seat. Angel was right; Wes remembered seeing this short young man in Sunnydale. Hadn't there been a rifle involved at some point? Hard to remember.
He'd never have guessed then, but now that he knew, he could see the traces of Ethan in the boy's face. The world really *was* a small place -- at least, if the Hellmouth was involved.
"Yeah." Jonathan was answering Angel's question. "Larry and I were helping out with the bomb stuff ..."
"What was that about talking later?" Wes interrupted quietly, with a faint smile.
Angel snorted, then turned the key in the ignition. "Smart ass."
... Wait a minute, Wesley thought, watching Jonathan walk away towards where the motorcycle was parked. "You're you again, too?" he repeated silently, then sat up carefully and glanced in one of the car mirrors. Sure enough, Wes was Wes again. But hadn't Ethan said it would take a few days for that to happen?
TBC