wesleynotponcy: (arms crossed: look down)
[personal profile] wesleynotponcy

Wesley knew, because he'd done specific research into this matter, that there was an extremely swanky bar almost within walking distance of Wolfram & Hart, and the vast majority of the firm's senior attorneys drank there on weeknights.

Yet here he was, drinking at a cheap, half-empty bar in his own neighborhood, looking at Lilah Morgan's reflection in the bar mirror as she came in.

Of course she would try again after the last time she'd attempted to make a recruitment pitch. Last time had worked accidentally well for her, with the shock value of Connor's surprise appearance, and if Wesley had been beginning to feel resigned and accustomed to his solitude before then, seeing Connor had certainly begun to undo that progress. He'd been drinking at this bar almost every night since.

So she wasn't wrong to think that he was weaker now. She was wrong to think that his resolve was weaker now -- but Wesley was well aware that he was vulnerable now in a way that he hadn't been before.

Before long, Lilah was beside him, setting her handbag down on the bar. "Mind if I join you?"

Wesley didn't expect that it would deter her, but for posterity, he said into his glass, "On many levels and with great intensity."

Lilah sat down next to him.

"How's your throat?" she asked, swiveling around nonchalantly in his direction. "Need a lozenge?" Wes, of course, didn't respond. "Life's something, huh? One day you're a pivotal figure in the big battle; next thing you know, you're thrown out on your lonesome. No one even cares what you think any more. Well, I care."

Uh-huh. "You care," Wesley repeated.

"As one human being to another," Lilah said breezily. "Just kidding. I care that your great big brain is going to waste. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Angel Jr. a thing without precedent in human history?"

Technically, as far as vampires' children were concerned, but Wesley was determined to be precise difficult. "You're wrong," he said before taking a sip of his beer. "Mesopotamian, Greek, Hindi, Celtic myth, the Bible, even Darwin, all support the coming of something that wasn't possible before."

"Okay," Lilah said, rolling her eyes at the precision. "The impossible is here. But what does it mean? Is it the herald of a new age, better things to come, or the mass-destruction of everything we hold dear?"

Now she was just trying to see what he knew about the prophecies that she didn't. The joke was on her, of course. There was no prophecy. "Every child born carries into the world the possibility of salvation or slaughter," he murmured stubbornly.

"And one born to two vampires carries it in spades," Lilah said faux-cheerily. "Now, my people will be rooting for slaughter." Of course. "And your people--" She laughed-- "I'm sorry, your former people -- they won't know what to do if things turn sour."

She was right, of course. With Wesley gone, there wasn't a single level-headed person in the office, not where Connor was concerned. Angel was far too emotionally invested, Cordelia too single-minded in her support of Angel, and Fred and Gunn far too distracted with one another to concentrate.

"No," he confirmed, looking down. "They won't."

"So," said Lilah, "if the kid's the next Stalin -- do you kill him? You can't! He's Angel's son. But on the other hand, if you just watch while he up and kills Angel or somebody else -- that cute girl from Texas, say?" Her tone was mocking now, and she gave a soft chuckle. "Wow, times like this? Glad I don't have a conscience."

It was a long moment before Wesley spoke up again, and when he did, it wasn't just his throat injury that rendered his voice unsteady. "I think you should leave now," he said.

To his surprise, Lilah did stand up, but it wasn't to leave. She paused, and touched a hand to her own throat. "What was it like?" she said. "When she cut you?"

Thoroughly provoked now, Wesley stood up with a start, his hand flying to join Lilah's hand at her throat. His voice was low and dangerous. "Are you terribly anxious to find out?"

Lilah looked at him, a sort of maddening knowingness in her eyes that Wesley wanted nothing more than to be rid of. He looked back at her with what was surely revulsion in his eyes, and before he knew it, she was kissing him.

The kissing turned into a cab ride which turned into sex -- which Wesley honestly couldn't be surprised by. But they didn't sleep afterwards. Wesley, for one, couldn't, because for one thing, he was not about to be asleep with Lilah Morgan in his home, and for another, it was rather difficult to sleep with this spectacular level of self-loathing going on.

"Well," Lilah said afterwards with a chuckle, rolling onto her side and propping herself up on one elbow. "Aren't I robbing the cradle?"

Wesley did rather wonder how other young men his age would have responded to this same scenario. The age gap was... significant. And he hadn't thought until now that she was even interested, though perhaps that wasn't the right word to describe what Lilah was. Still, he wasn't willing to acknowledge aloud how much younger he was. "I'm twenty, Lilah," he said. "Hardly an infant."

"Yeah, I could tell from your moves in the sack," she teased. "Not a first-timer, huh?"

Not quite, no.

Before she could start up again, he leaned over to retrieve his glasses from the bedside table. "You know that sinking feeling you sometimes get the morning after?" he inquired as he put them on. "It arrived early."

Lilah sat up and stretched out one arm, then the other. "It's a little like death," she said. "Several, in fact."

Whatever that meant.

Wesley gave it another moment before he cleared his throat. "Now. Get out."

With a laugh, Lilah rolled to the edge of the bed and then sat up, not bothering to cover herself up. "What, no sweet kiss?" she teased. "No 'when can I see you again?'" Catching Wes' eye, she chided him, "Watch the dirty looks. That's what got me going in the first place. I'll give you this: you sure know how to channel your rage, frustration, and hate. Always a bigger turn-on than love."

"Are you still here?" Wesley asked dully as he lay back in bed.

That got another chuckle out of Lilah. "I'm starting to like you, Wes. Don't go making more of this than it is. I'm not one of the doe-y eyed girls of Angel Investigations." She stepped into her shoes from last night, then her skirt -- not that Wesley was watching. "Don't be thinking about me when I'm gone."

"I wasn't thinking about you when you were here." It was barely even a lie.

"So," she said, pulling on her blazer and buttoning it up over her otherwise naked chest. "Your former boss has a soul - though who knows for how long - and you're losing yours." She picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. "Boy, you're just -- new all over, aren'tcha?"

Wesley stared at the ceiling as she left.

[[mostly from angel 3x22, "tomorrow," with a little of my own stuff. i looooove this ship. nfb, but open for phone calls, and yay, i'm done with season three!]]


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