Sins of the Father
Chapter Two
Wesley woke up and sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and running his eyes over his hair. He yawned and swung his legs out of the bed. He stopped at the edge of the bed and frowned. Something was wrong. Well, not wrong, different. For the first time in ages, he felt like he had actually slept instead of enjoying a drunken stupor. It wasn't an entirely unwelcome feeling, but it was strange in its newness. He stood up and stretched, for some reason feeling quite positive about the day. He wandered out of his bedroom and into the living room. Suddenly, the floor came up to meet him.
"Ow! Bloody hell! So much for not having a hangover," he muttered, pushing himself up slowly and untangling his feet from the bag he had tripped over. He sat up and rubbed his forehead, slowly opening his eyes again. A pair of huge blue eyes greeted him and he lost his balance, falling backwards, his eyes still fixed on the tousled head peering at him over the arm of the couch.
"Are you all right?" said a small voice. The accent was hard to place, trans-Alantic.
He continued to stare at her as he remembered.
"Charlotte, this is your daddy… It's about time you faced up to your responsibilities!"
"If I don't take her, where will she go?"
"A children's home."
"I'll take her."
He stood up slowly and peered down at the young girl.
"Are you, um, hungry?" he asked. Hungry? he asked himself. Surely you could have come up with a better introduction than that?
"Yes," she said. "Can I have cereal, please?"
"Yes, yes of course. Come through," he walked away into the kitchen. He heard a small thud as she slid off the couch and the tiny pattering as her bare feet hit the tiles.
He poured a small bowl of cereal and pushed it across the table toward her warily.
"I don't have any milk, I'm afraid," he said, sitting down, eyeing her nervously.
"That's ok," she answered, munching happily. "Are you always this scruffy?"
She looked up then and her face was set in a polite study of him. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled suddenly, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin.
"Not always, no," he answered.
"Oh," she nodded and bent over her cereal again. "What should I call you?"
"Pardon?"
"Mum said you're my dad, should I call you that?"
"I er…" this was all moving too fast for him. "Yes, I suppose so. Um, Charlotte?"
"Yes?"
"I'm just going to get dressed, are you all right here?"
"I'm fine. Thank you for the cereal, Dad."
He smiled at her, "That's all right."
He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned a little. The stubble was gone and his glasses had been placed back onto his nose. He straightened his shirt and sighed, leaving the bathroom. He went into the living room and paused. Charlotte was bent over the bag Melissa had given her, sorting through her things.
She had his chocolate brown hair and it fell in curls to her shoulders. She had her mother's slightly up-turned nose and light sprinkling of freckles. She set her things out in an orderly row and packed them back neatly into the bag, before settling back on her knees and brushing her hair.
He approached quietly and sat on the couch behind her. She turned around and smiled at him and he noticed one of her lower teeth was missing and when she smiled, she curled her tongue into the hole.
"Am I going to stay here?" she asked.
"Well, until your mum comes back, at least," he answered.
"She's not," she replied matter-of-factly. "She's going to Florida with Lenny. I don't like Lenny, he shouts and he used to lock me in my room when him and Mum went out. I didn't like that; I'm scared of the dark."
He stared in horror at the young girl and was dragged backwards in time to his own childhood. He was eight, a slim child, a little tall for his age, but his slight build hid his height. He had interrupted his father while his father growled curses at his mother. He had been wearing a suit and tie, with hair combed neatly and his glasses sparkled, they were going to a dance at the Council for one of the member's birthday. He had been told it was an honour. His mother had said he looked "smashing, a real gentlemen, sweetheart," and he only wanted his father's approval. The approval he craved.
"Father? Father, what do you think of my suit?"
He never found out what his father thought, because with a roar of rage, he grabbed Wesley, pinching his shoulders hard and swung him under his arm. He held him tightly, making him cry out as his father half dragged him upstairs. With a spectacular clip round the ear, his father threw him bodily into his room. He turned off the light and paused in the doorway, glaring at his son who lay whimpering at the foot of his bed, one hand clutching his face, the other his ankle that had been injured in the fall.
"You won't be coming tonight. How dare you interrupt me like that? How many times do I have to tell you not to speak unless you are spoken to? Are you stupid, boy? Of course you are. Now get into bed and I want you asleep when we get home, do you understand? Don't nod at me, boy! ANSWER ME!"
"Yes, sir, I'll be asleep."
And with that, his father slammed the door, leaving Wesley in the dark. He didn't cry until he heard his father's voice ringing out from the street below.
"You won't lock me up, will you, Dad?"
Wesley looked shocked that she could suggest such a thing and hastily shook his head, placing a hand on her shoulder with a friendly squeeze.
"No, Lottie, I won't lock you up. Shall I tell you a secret?"
"Yes."
"I'm scared of the dark too."
Fred picked up the large and incredibly dusty book from the desk and opened it to the first page. She continued to flick through it, each turn of the page making her face fall even further.
"What's that, Fred?" Gunn asked, slipping an arm around her waist.
"It's that book I got from that guy with the information on Tracklons. Remember?"
"Yeah. So why you looking all defeated? Is it useless?"
"No. Yes… I don't know! It's in a language I've never even seen before! Only the title's in English!"
"Can't you look for it on the 'net?" he asked. "Must be some translations out there!"
"I've looked. Absolutely no hits for 'The Codex Of Powers.'"
"Don't worry about it, baby. It's probably got nothing we need in it, anyway. You wanna come for breakfast now or what?"
"Sure, ok. You buying?"
"Like I'd let my girl pay for anything," he grinned, offering her his arm with a grin.
"Do I have to go to school?" Lottie asked, looking up from a book propped on her legs.
"School?" Wesley looked up from his work and pulled his glasses off, rubbing his eyes. "Yes, you'll have to go to school."
"Good," she nodded. "I like school."
"You do?"
"Yep. It's fun. But I don't think the others liked me. They said my clothes were funny."
He looked at her gently as she returned to her book. He remembered that time, when you were old enough to notice people didn't like you, but too young to take much notice. Yes, he remembered that.
"What are you reading?" he asked her.
She looked up with a broad grin. Seemingly ecstatic that someone was interested; she scrambled off the couch, clutching the book to her chest. He turned his chair away from the desk and she pushed the book into his lap. It was a hefty book, rather large for a girl her size, for she was small for her age. The book was open to a simple engraving of a Kun'Gai demon with an in-depth explanation. Keeping one finger in the book to keep her page, he turned to the front cover.
"Laton's Demonology Compendium," he read. "Isn't this a bit much for you?"
"It was Mum's, she said I could have it 'cause it was out of date. I don't understand all of it, but some of it. And I like the pictures. Have you ever seen one of those?" she pointed to the picture of the Kun'Gai.
"Yes," he answered softly. "Yes I have."
"What are you doing?" she asked, pointing to the mass of papers. "Mum said you were a demon detective, are you detecting a demon?"
"Sort of," he answered, using a scrap of paper as a bookmark before putting her book to one side. "I'm looking for a friend."
She tiptoed to point at a picture toward the back of the desk and he shifted his legs to give her better access.
"Are you looking for her?"
It was a picture of Cordelia to whom she pointing. An old picture, when her hair was long and dark, but the huge smile was undoubtedly hers.
"Yes. She's an old friend. She's been missing all summer."
"Where do you think she is?"
"I really don't know. But I don't think she's in Kansas anymore."
She wrinkled her nose at him, "But we're not in Kansas."
"I meant - hang on," he grabbed the phone almost as it started ringing. "Hello? Ah, Henry, it's about time, I'd just about given up on - Oh…?" Wesley grabbed a pad and pen and grinned in excitement. "A book you say…? Well, yes…. What's it called…? The Codex Of Powers…? No, I've never heard of it…. Where can I find it…? Oh. Right, thank you, Henry…. Yes. Goodbye."
He replaced the receiver slowly and sighed.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"It was news about how to find my friend."
"So why aren't you happy?"
"Because someone already has it."
"But that means they can save her."
"Yes, I suppose it does."
"That's all right then," she nodded and pulled her book toward her. "You can read my book if you like. It always cheers me up."
Wesley tucked the blanket around her and smoothed her hair back as she sighed sleepily.
"Can I go to school tomorrow?" she asked.
"We'll see what I can do."
"Ok. Thank you. Night, Dad."
"Night, Lottie."
He hesitated before dropping a hasty kiss onto her head. She snuggled into the couch and he picked up her book and returned to his desk where he switched on the lamp and opened it up. There was a knock on the door and Wesley stood to answer it.
He should have really expected who he saw, but for some reason, he hadn't. It would seem that spending a day with a polite young girl who just happened to be his daughter had made him forget that he wasn't the old Wesley anymore.
"Well, lover," Lilah said, eyeing his lack of stubble. "I didn't expect this. New image?"
She started to walk into the apartment, but he pushed her back toward the door, a little more roughly than he intended.
"There he is," she smiled. "There's my boy. C'mon," she slid her arms around his neck. "You know how this ends."
"Lilah, no," he pulled her arms from around her. "From now on, you don't come here. Do you understand?"
She blinked at him and looked over his shoulder toward the bag beside the couch, a red sweater hanging out of it.
"What the hell's going on, Wesley?" she asked. "Who's is that?"
"My daughter's," he snapped and pushed her back once more, slamming the door in her face.
He really should have tried an easier approach; he knew that as soon as he slammed the door. He thought he might have owed her an explanation, an apology perhaps. But he had not given either.
Lilah stared at the door and blinked in disbelief. You think it's that easy, lover? Oh, no. Hell hath no fury, Wesley, like a lawyer scorned…