Chapter 2: We Were Young Once

Author's Note: Thank you all those who reviewed. I really appreciate it!

The story so far: Wesley receives a letter from his brother and tells the gang that he is out to kill him.

"Next stop: L.A." buzzed the overhead intercom.

The semi-packed bus traveled at constant speed through forgettable roads, once or twice incurring bumps on the road. A man sat at the front of the bus, the seat next to him empty except for his things. Among them was a leather jacket. He stared out the window at the changing sceneries with disregard. As they were reaching their destination, the service woman came from behind the bus where she was selling snacks and stopped to stand beside him.

"So what brings you to the city of angels, honey?" she said in a distinct southern accent.

The man turned from his view and looked up at her slowly. A smile spread across his face.

"Family."

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"I… have a brother. And he's coming to kill me."

Wesley waited for their reactions. He wasn't disappointed.

"What!"

"Oh my god."

"Wait. Wes, what are you saying?" Angel held out his hands to silence their outbursts and looked at him with a deeper frown.

Wesley sighed "I probably should start this from the beginning."

So he told them. Wesley had an elder brother who was five years ahead. They were as close as brothers can be and were always there for each other. But one day, something happened, and his brother just snapped and killed most of a floor of dorm students. But it wasn't anything like manic spree; it was calculated murder. He knocked on each individual door, his friendly attitude gaining him access, and silently killed them in their own bedrooms. He would then stain his lips with the victim's blood and kiss them on the forehead, cheeks or lips.

The last door he reached was Wesley's.

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Wesley heard the soft tapping on the door and wondered who it would be this late at night. He closed the book he was reading and went to answer it.

"Oh, Chris, it's you." Wesley said with a smile. He moved out of the way and said, "Come in."

Christopher Wyndam-Pryce smiled and entered, ruffling his younger brother's hair as he came in. He looked around the room before settling on the chair by the desk.

"Why are you here? Did you need something?" Wesley said as he peeked at the silent corridor and then closed the door. He turned around and suddenly squeaked when he found himself face to face with his brother, only inches apart.

"Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to visit you, that's all."

"Don't scare me like that." Wesley punched him lightly on the shoulder and moved away. With his back to Chris, he didn't see him turn the lock on his door and take away the keys.

"Sorry," Chris said. "Didn't mean to scare you. Wouldn't want that."

Wesley turned halfway and gave him an inquiring look at his strange words to which he only shrugged and smiled at. He then went to his closet to change into his PJs while Chris returned to sit at the chair.

"Well," Wesley said after he finished changing, "I'm poofed from all those fencing lessons with Hudson. That old bastard is merciless." Wesley sat on his bed and grinned. "How did your day go? I heard the sixth forms had to attend a talk today."

"We definitely had a talk." Chris said. "It was… uneventful. Some were tired, groaned and complained. You could say that they were dying in there."

It was then that Wesley noticed something. "Is that your shirt? It looks a bit too big for you. And you have something on your cheek. Looks like ketchup."

Chris looked down at what he was wearing and explained "It's John's, from the room two doors down. He spilt some coke on mine and let me borrow his." He patted at the shirt then wiped where Wesley pointed. "Probably some from earlier; don't ask." He turned his attention to the desk.

"The Baker's Son by Jason Forde?" He said, looking at a closed book with a piece of paper shoved in between the pages. Wesley blushed and Chris continued, "Nah, that's fine. Great book – read it when I was about your age, actually." He moved next to Wesley on the bed with the book in his hand. "If I recall correctly, it's about a boy who solves a series of connected murders. Turns out it was his father's doing."

A small cry from Wesley made Chris look at him and he just realised what he did. "Oops, I just ruined the whole story for you, didn't I? Sorry." He returned the book back to Wesley who placed it beside him on the bed. They were silent for a moment before Chris spoke.

"Have you ever wondered what it would feel like?"

Knowing that he was still talking about the book, Wesley asked "To solve a crime?"

Chris turned to look at him and said in a low voice, "To commit a murder."

Before Wesley could fully register what he said, they heard a scream coming from outside the door.

"What?" Wesley started to get up but was pushed down on the bed suddenly, his brother following on top. "Chris-!"

Suddenly Chris had his hand wrapped around Wesley's neck and took out a knife that was concealed in his pocket. It was blood-stained. He held it close to Wesley's face and said, "I'll tell you, Wesley. It's bloody wonderful."

As the commotion increased outside, inside Wesley was choking for dear life as Chris' hold tightened around his neck. "Their pleas, their cries," Chris continued, "It's exhilarating. The look in their eyes when they know they're about to die. Kind of like yours. It's beautiful."

As Chris watched his brother's life drain away, he missed to notice that Wesley's right hand was reaching for his bedside lamp. When he finally had a grasp on it, he swung it with force, hitting Chris' head hard and forcing him to let go.

Wesley held onto his neck, coughing as he tried to breath in as much air as possible. The shouts and screams outside as they found body after body voiced his own inner horror. Wesley stumbled towards the door to get out but when he finally reached it, he found that it was locked and the key was missing. He was only able to bang on the door twice before he was pulled roughly by his shirt collar from behind and pushed to the floor. He tried to scream but his voice was still useless and Chris was once again on top of him.

"Now that wasn't very nice. You made me bleed." Chris said. Someone was banging on his door now, but was studiously ignored Chris.

"Why are you doing this?" Wesley pleaded through his tears.

"Why?" he said with evil glee. He seemed to ponder for a bit before he said. "Because it's fun; because I feel like it."

He then raised his knife and shoved it deep into Wesley's shoulder, finally enticing a rough shout of pain from him. He removed the knife and the wound bled profusely, staining Wesley's shirt and the carpet. Chris moved the blade across his lips, marking it lightly with the red liquid.

"Your blood," he said. "I was kind of hoping I'd be better. But you're all the same." He bent closer towards Wesley and Wesley turned his face away, his terrified state reduced to tearful sniffling.

"Don't worry; I won't kill you yet, like this. You're my brother, remember." Chris kissed the spot just below Wesley's left eye. He then leaned in closely to his ear.

"I love you to bits." He whispered.

Suddenly the door crashed wide open and Chris was shoved violently off him. Wesley turned slowly on his side, not caring that anyone saw him in that state, his mind blocking out everything that happened next.

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"He pleaded insanity and was sent to Woodridge Mental Facility indefinitely. That was fifteen years ago." Wesley concluded.

"Man, that was… sick." Gunn said.

"How do you know he's coming to kill you?" Angel asked.

Wesley explained "I was just informed by my parents that he escaped… six months ago. And I just received a letter from him today. It says it all in there."

"Well, can we see it?" Cordelia asked, after it looked like he wasn't going to say anything else.

Wesley paused a small moment before he replied "If you don't mind, I believe some things must be kept private."

They all knew that it was a lame excuse, that Wesley was hiding more from them what was revealed from the letter that he didn't want them to see.

"Do you think we should report this to the police?" Cordelia said, changing the subject.

"No, I don't think it'll do us any good." Wesley said.

"Don't worry, Wes. We'll find him." Angel said. Then more loudly, "In the meantime, I think you should stay here. That way, there'll be no surprises. Go with Gunn and pick up what you need from your place."

"I suppose your right." Wesley agreed. He walked off with Gunn as they headed for his apartment for his things. When they left, there was only Cordelia and Angel standing in the lobby.

"Do you think he'll be ok?" Cordelia asked.

Angel looked at her but said nothing. He didn't know.