Disclaimer: They are so not mine, and I admit it, so please don't sue me.

Feedback: Lovely lovely! Thanks for the nice long reviews this time, and yes ForeverWes, that little bit of mail did make me very happy! You have fed the author monster well, and as a reward, here's an extra long chapter to keep you occupied.

Since you wanted another young Wes flashback, you've got one, and I promise he will get a break soon. As for Lindsey, I know you want to find out what's going on, but it's been hard to get round to it. Next time he will feature extensively, brownies honour! Just bare with me, I'm doing my best… :) 

PART 14.

The shaky little boy made his way slowly down the thickly carpeted hallway, towards the study, with all the eagerness of a convicted criminal being led to the noose. A book of Latin under his arm and a small, brown envelope in the other hand, he hesitated at the ornately carved and stained oak wood door rising menacingly before him.

Father would be at his desk working, no doubt. Whenever he was in there, the whole house took on a respectful hush, no one daring to disturb him. The room itself was more like an office, absorbing none of the cosy atmosphere from the rest of the house. It was like the man sucked all of the life out of it by just being present.

He dreaded that room and everything it represented. He held a kind of fearful reverence for it, like every school child did for the teacher's staff room. You never went in unbidden, and God forbid that you should ever be found taking a sneaky look inside. He knew better than that. Besides, if he never saw the inside of that horrid, dark and dingy abomination of a room again, it would be too soon. He'd only ever been inside once or twice, and the result was never good.

He had been summoned here not long after he had arrived home, and he knew with a sinking a heart that the message he held in his hand was not good news. The headmaster was instructed to keep a close eye on him, and his father always asked for even the most trivial of matters to be brought to his attention when it concerned his son. It may only be a small note, but this report could contain everything needed to ensure a sound beating in only a few words.

After all, father must already suspect, or else you wouldn't be standing here now, would you?

He stared intently at the twisting patterns of some plant or other, and tried desperately to remember what was expected of him. He should know the drill by now. Summoning up the courage at last, he knocked timidly on the wood, producing a dull and hollow clunk that echoed through his entire being.

"Yes."

Not 'come in' or 'who is it', even. Just that empty, formal word. He swallowed hard and reached for the brass handle, convincing himself that he couldn't possibly have heard a tone of displeasure in that short answer from so far away. At least, he hoped.

The heavy door finally gave way to his struggles, and he hastily turned to push it shut again. Needing all his strength to lean against it, he had to use both arms to make it move. Big mistake.

His book slipped treacherously from his grasp and fell to the floor open, creasing the pages.

"Stupid boy!" his father spat, obviously in a foul mood. "Why are you always dropping things like some clumsy oaf? Pick it up at once!"

He obliged, his trembling hands making a meal of the pages when he tried to smooth them shut.

Too late for that now, you've already made him mad.

He approached the desk and handed his father the note when he motioned for it. He stood in silence as it was read, imagining all of the things he could have possibly done wrong this time, and praying for some miraculous turn of fate that would allow him to melt into the floor and never be seen again.

His father eyed him coldly, then took his book and laid it open in front of him, studying the work inside.

"What's the matter, boy, don't you like your schooling?"

No.

"Yes, sir."

"It says in this letter that you've not been paying attention in your Latin classes of late. I see here that your work standard is slipping yet again, and yet you still stand there and lie to me. Well? Do you deny it?"

How could he possible explain? For some irrational reason, he always struggled more with Latin than he did with any other subject, even though he excelled in all kinds of demonic tongues. And it wasn't that he didn't pay attention, he had just been distracted lately.

Had he not been so terrified, he would have smiled bitterly at the irony of this situation. He knew full well which incident had been referred to in said letter. He had been unwell that day, due to the turn he had taken after he had helped his father perform a spell, and the following 'disciplinary correction' it had resulted in. No one had noticed the bruises, thankfully, but he had found it harder to concentrate than usual, especially through his discomfort.

"Answer, boy!"

"N-no, sir, I-I…"

He received a classic 'clip round the ear', one of his father's favourites.

"Stop that stuttering, you sound like an illiterate idiot. Of course, that's probably not far off the mark, is it? Look at the state of this work! You call that Latin? I've seen half-witted beasts do better."

Not quite believing his eyes, the boy watched as his father tore pages from his book and ripped them into pieces in front of him.

"You will do all of it again, do you hear? And don't even think about coming down from your room until it's done. As for your meal with the rest of the family, you skip it for tonight. You do not eat at my table until you are worthy of the food I work hard to put in front of you. No son of mine is to fall behind in his class…"

The man reached down and opened a drawer, pulling something out that the boy did not even see. He was too frightened to take his eyes away from the remains of two months worth of study lying in shreds at his feet.

"Hold out your hands. I don't suppose your trainers ever administer the appropriate punishment, not like in my day. In which case, it's up to me."

* Thwack *

Six inches worth of cane snapped across his palm and crippled his fingers with a burning so fierce that he thought he had lost them all together. He groaned through clenched teeth but kept his hands in place, knowing the penalty for cowardice only too well. It wouldn't have been so bad, had he not known that this was only for starters.

He couldn't help the widening of his eyes and his erratic trembling as his father rose from his seat and towered over him with intent…

                                                *            *            *

Cordelia had woken from her fitful sleep to discover that Lorne had gotten rather too comfortable in his chair, his chin now resting on his chest and his arms crossed. She smiled sleepily and wondered if she should have just told him to go home. She didn't need a baby-sitter, and she was kind of embarrassed at the thought of him sitting there watching her when she slept. She hoped she hadn't spoken out or done anything too dorky, and checked the pillow for drool, just to be sure. So far so good.

Rolling over to stretch and get more comfortable on the inconveniently soft and saggy old bed, she collided face first with Wesley's shoulder, bashing her teeth against the inside of her mouth. She recoiled immediately as her fuzzy mind screamed warnings at her, along the lines of 'That shouldn't be there! Attack!'

Her hand shot up in sympathy of her bleeding lip, and she stifled a shriek. Realising the stupidity of what she had done, she forced her buzzing nerves to settle and took a calming breath. But ow, it still hurt.

Wesley had turned over almost onto his front and was now facing her. If she had been a bit taller, she would have landed her head-butt right on his nose instead of where his arm was stuck crookedly to the side. He looked decidedly squashed, curled up with his knees pulled to his chest and the blanket Cordelia had wrapped him in earlier stuffed randomly round his neck.

She smiled in gratitude that at least someone else in the room was a messier sleeper than she was. It faded when she saw his face and considered the reason for the movement that had taken place. He didn't look rested in the slightest, and although he had regained some of his colour, there was a greyness to his skin that suggested he was far from happy. Forgetting her own trouble for the moment, she put a hand against his forehead and cringed at the touch. Clammy and cold, the contact did not reassure her.

She snatched her hand away when he murmured and stirred, his face taking on the look of a frightened child for a split second, before relaxing again into the pitiful shadow of the man she knew, tormented by his dreams.

A nightmare, she should have known. But not for long, if she had anything to do with it. She couldn't remember the amount of times she had hoped for a rescuer, every time that demon chased her, getting closer and closer for all of her futile running, hideous fangs preparing to sink into her flesh…

Wanting to shake him for all she was worth, Cordelia practised a little self-restraint and gently nudged Wesley's arm, avoiding the parts that she knew she had had to bandage previously. As she had predicted, it didn't take much to bring him back to reality, and she shuffled back quickly, before he saw just how close she had been to him when he'd been unable to protest. For some reason, it felt wrong, like she had taken advantage of him or something. She guessed that she was just concerned for his sense of masculinity. I mean, being weak and helpless, not to mention completely dependant on someone else, it probably knocked your self-esteem a bit. She didn't want it to seem like she had had to coddle him or anything. That would be too weird for him to have to handle right now, not to mention awkward for them both when it came to explaining.

Opening his eyes carefully, it looked like he expected to find something mortifyingly unpleasant next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but unfashionably wrinkled and creased clothing, and slowly moved his eyes up to discover the owner.

Cordelia felt a nervous twinge seize her expression as she realised that she didn't know what to say. Wesley stared at her and blinked, unsure. There were so many things that needed explaining, but she couldn't think where to start. "Hey", was all she could manage for the moment, looking down on him with concerned eyes. Knowing that perhaps she wasn't the best person in the world when it came to her ability to console, she hoped that his reaction wouldn't be too extreme, and that she could handle it with some tact. Well, you can but try.

When realisation dawned, Wesley blushed violently and took his eyes from her gaze, an ashamed look on his face. He hurriedly sat up and wrenched the tangled sheets from around him, flinching when he accidentally brushed one or two of his more memorable keepsakes, care of Wolfram and Hart. Surrendering to the pain and feeling slightly nauseous from the tang of antiseptic clogging the air, he leant back and sat still, silently cursing his weakness for preventing him from escaping.

He desperately wanted to disappear so that he wouldn't have to face Cordelia's questioning looks, and the blame that was to come. He didn't think he could find any words that would sufficiently cover everything he felt, even though nothing he could ever say would be appropriate in this situation. As far as he was concerned, he didn't deserve the right to explain; his actions had said it all. That left him with only one pathetic option. Forcing himself to look at her, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't you dare!" Cordelia interrupted, recognising his attempted at apology.

Wesley blinked in surprise and frowned, waiting for her to continue. This certainly wasn't what he had expected.

"Wow, I know you so well, it's actually disturbing. And don't look at me like that; I know what you were going to say. It really bugs me sometimes, actually. You don't have to be sorry for everything, all the bad things that happen are not always your fault, I mean, OK, so maybe the majority, but…"

"What about Lilah? Is-is s-she, did I…"

"Oh, she's totally not dead. You can thank yours truly for that." She smiled at him when he relaxed significantly, like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She almost thought he might smile with relief, but he caught himself, probably thinking it entirely inappropriate.

"I really am sorry, you know, about Harris. I didn't mean for any of that to happen."

Cordelia's smile faded somewhat and she looked at him sadly.

"I know. None of us did. We couldn't have known, and we weren't just going to leave you there, we had no choice."

Wesley shifted in the uncomfortable silence that followed and looked around his room. With a sudden frown of confusion, he turned back to Cordelia and put a hand on her arm to get her attention.

"How did we get here?" he whispered.

                                                *            *            *

Cordelia had explained all the sordid details to him of their escape and, with added enthusiasm, he noted, of Harris' help when it came to getting up to Lilah's office in the first place.

He didn't remember the majority of it, and certainly nothing from when he was under the influence of the eyeless demon. Apparently, Lindsey had been there, and they had brought him back to the hotel with them. He couldn't think how he had missed that, but obviously he had.

When it came to his turn to explain, he felt it best to skip the majority of the details and reported a brief and general account of what had happened to him, covering up some of the more awkward points with the claim that he couldn't recall the specifics. Cordelia seemed to buy it, but he knew he'd have a more difficult job when it came to Angel. He was never a very good liar, and Angelus had been a master of deceit.

It wasn't for any sinister reason that he wanted to withhold the truth, it was just that he could already guess the avenue that would take him down, and it was one he didn't want to walk just yet, even with his closest of friends.

Cordelia yawned again, for what must have been the fifth time, but continued to pretend that she was paying attention to everything he had to say. He could see the fatigue weighing heavy on her, even as she fought to stay alert. It wouldn't be long before she started to nod, no matter how many times she insisted she was fine.

"Where's Angel?" he asked, intending to suggest that he take over from Cordelia for the watching duty they seemed to have assigned themselves on his behalf.

Cordelia's expression became unintentionally harsh, and she sat up again in a show of defiance.

"I don't know and I don't care right now. He's the one that did that to you, y'know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Wesley looked her over with suspicion as she nestled back down into the bed, turning away to hide her feelings on the subject. He started when Lorne spoke up, having woken without them noticing.

"Cordy and Angel had a little disagreement earlier. Let's just say they had 'words', and that now they need to kiss and make up before the entire building collapses under the weight of all the bad karma they're giving off between them."

"What were you arguing about?" Wesley asked, addressing Cordelia again.

You.

"It doesn't matter", she replied, "I don't want to talk about it. Just go back to sleep."

With that, she closed her eyes, making it quite clear that the conversation had ended. Lorne got up from his chair, extending his arms as far above his head as his jacket would allow, and prepared to leave, knowing only too well when not to out stay his welcome.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'll be on my merry way. This place is humming way too much for a poor sensitive demon such as myself. I'm telling ya, there are some serious vibes flitting around. I just had the strangest dream just now about this little kid, and boy, was it disturbing…" Lorne's light chuckle fizzled out when he caught the look on Wesley's face, and something clicked in his mind. Not wanting to say too much and regret it later, he quickly made his retreat, telling Wesley and a now semi-conscious Cordelia that he would take his leave of Angel before he went.

Wesley watched him go and stubbornly dismissed what he had just said. It was far too unsettling a prospect. He looked down at Cordelia as she slumbered and decided to do something about her and Angel's strained relationship. He had been out of it for long enough this last couple of days, and he was unwilling to go back to the place he had only just escaped. He couldn't have slept now if he had tried.

Moving carefully so as not to give himself away, he swung his legs round and got to his feet, despite the ache. The wave of dizziness passed, and he felt much better for getting out of the stuffy little room and into the comparatively fresher air of the corridor. With a quick glimpse behind him to check he hadn't disturbed Cordelia, he made his way to the stairs to find Angel, taking it one step at a time.

                                                *            *            *

Sat alone, finally, in the office, Angel leant back in his chair and sighed. This was just the way he liked it. He had a chance to think at last. This one would take a lot processing before he could come up with an answer, but it would be worth it in the end. If only he could be left alone for more than one minute at a time… 

He heard the lobby door open and groaned his annoyance in despair. Don't these people ever stop? He wished he had put up a 'closed' sign or something, just to keep people away for now. They never got walk in cases very often, but sods law dictated that if they were busy, hundreds of people would demand their services at once.

He lifted himself up and dragged himself out, thinking up the best possible excuse he could use to make whoever it was come back tomorrow. If it wasn't urgent, he didn't care.

"We're not –" He stopped when he rounded the corner and clamped eyes on Lilah standing in the middle of the floor, a fake cockiness about her. He was about to rush forward and grab her when she stepped forward herself, putting up a hand and commanding him to stop.

"Look, we both now I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be, so there's no need for the macho display. I'm trying to do you a favour."

Angel gave her the benefit of the doubt, slightly unnerved by her apparent confidence. He knew better, though, of course. He could smell the fear on her, as well as pain, and was that blood? He couldn't detect any other beings in the vicinity, and she didn't seem to be much of a threat, so he stayed where he was, allowing her to stop a short distance from him, just beyond grabbing distance. He could have sworn that he saw her hobble a bit, and he finally noticed the leather gloves on her hands.

"Is it cold out?" he quipped, keeping his face deadly serious and leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed defensively across his chest. She ignored his comment and tried to stare him down, matching the frostiness in his eyes. 

And that's the moment fate chose to make things a bit more interesting. It always did have a cruel sense of humour, Angel thought afterwards.

Locked in his battle of the wills with Lilah, Angel hadn't noticed the footsteps approaching from the top of the stairs. He turned his head to look too late to see Wesley carefully walking down, all his attention focused on the step in front so as not to trip.

"Angel? Are you down here? I just wanted to –"

He stopped dead when he saw Lilah, and his face fell. She looked back at him indifferently, and Angel stepped forward into view.

"Wesley…" he started, worried about what might happen.

Wesley didn't look at him, his mouth working soundlessly in an attempt to say something. He couldn't find any words, and looked at his feet instead, a confused expression on his face as he searched for what to do next. Everything that had happened raced through his mind at once, and he panicked at the thought of what he could do. He turned abruptly and retreated back the way he had come.

Angel growled in anger and stepped forward, wrapping his hand round Lilah's neck before she could make a sound in her defence.

"Was there something you wanted, Lilah, or should I just break your neck now? You'd better pray that you have a good excuse for being here, or things could get real nasty…"

To be continued…