wesleynotponcy: (conv: library)
It turned out that finding Darla hadn't really been the problem. Angel had found her without much trouble at all, actually. Brought her to the Hyperion, even. Only to discover that Darla -- four hundred-year-old Darla, human, formerly a syphilitic prostitute from the Virginia colony, yes Wesley did his research -- was now dying of the same disease that had plagued her the first time she was human. And had several months to live.

Angel, predictably, was a little upset and had proceeded to shut himself up in the basement over it. )

[[from angel 2x09 "the trial", and nfb/nfi. god i have fucked with this arc's timeline so, so much.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: peaceful eyes closed)
Well. It was Darla; now they knew that much for certain. From the sparse report Angel had relayed to Wesley and Cordelia upon his return, it seemed that Darla had killed the man she'd hired to pose as her husband, then fled. Angel had followed her, and... hadn't killed her. That was all he'd said before shutting himself up in his room for the evening.

Today, though, he'd emerged, broody but with a plan, and Wesley and Cordelia as well as Angel's new -- and disturbingly familiar -- associate Charles Gunn dutifully congregated to listen to it.

''We have to find her.'' )
[[largely from angel 2x07 "darla," and nfb/nfi. THERE, STEVE, YOU HAPPY?]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: wait wut)
Wesley was fond of Angel. Really, he was. And he quite liked working for Angel Investigations, and it certainly gave him a sense of purpose, but all the same... he had no interest at all in looking for this woman's address. No, while Cordelia might be poring over the telephone book, Wesley was focusing a bit more on something he considered rather more important: looking up Darla herself.

"Having any luck?" Cordelia called over her phone book from the front desk.

Wesley froze. "I'm sorry?"

''Luck'' was such a vague word... )

Not long afterward, the phone rang... )
[[stuff under the top cut is all mine, in a very 'dear god wesley is not holding the idiot ball for this long' sort of way, and most of what's under the second cut is from angel 2x05 "dear boy." nfi/nfb.]]
wesleynotponcy: (fact: stakeout)
Well. Much as Wesley might have liked to return to Fandom and spend the rest of his vacation curled up with his girlfriend where he ought to be right now, it turned out that that was not to be. Instead, he, Angel and Cordelia set off for the Franklin Hotel, the site of Mrs. Jeakins' supposed abductions, to conduct, well, a stakeout. Complete with bugs planted on the bar, an earwig in Angel's ear, and a tiny camera in Wesley's hand. It was difficult not to feel a bit foolish.

Though Wesley supposed it could be worse. At least he wasn't in a skimpy waitress getup like Cordelia was.

Fortunately, that sort of costume on him probably wouldn't be terribly helpful to the case. So it was for the best.

Stakeouts can be fun! But not this one. )

Seriously, that wasn't fun at all. )
[[still from angel 2x05 "dear boy," and nfb/nfi.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: yes?)
After a chaotic autumn and beginning of spring semester, Wesley was glad to remain at Fandom for the break, relishing the relative quiet. After handwavily spending his nineteenth birthday -- and, all right, subsequent day and a half as well -- in his bedroom with Katniss, though, today a call from Cordelia was enough to get him not only out of bed, but out to Los Angeles as well.

"So these are the new offices," he remarked, taking in the hotel Cordelia had directed him to. "Interesting."

"Yeah, yeah, it's all very fascinating," Cordelia agreed. "Look, help me talk to this guy."

And over to the couch they went! )

[[stuff under ye olde lj cut stolen from angel 2x05 "dear boy," woot. nfi and nfb, la.]]
wesleynotponcy: (warrior: defiant chin up)
From watching others attempt it, Wesley had always expected on-the-spot strategizing to be difficult -- impossible, even, coming from him -- but now he was finding that it actually wasn't all that challenging.

"Get your coat," he ordered Faith, leading her down the stairs. (As if he would let her walk behind him, not two days after what had happened.) To Angel, he explained, "Slight change of plan. In about twenty minutes, the Council's Operations Team is coming here. They'll expect to find you gone and her drugged."

And him a ponce. No, Wesley wasn't letting that go. )

[[Warning for mild gun violence in this. Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC is love, all this was preplayed with a cool person I know called MYSELF though I stole icons from all the canonmates and old guest stars ever, what are you gonna do about it? Up early for... other stuff coming later. Shh. Follows this, this, this, this, this and this. DONE SPAMMING NOW. Almost.]]
wesleynotponcy: (warrior: defiant chin up)
From watching others attempt it, Wesley had always expected on-the-spot strategizing to be difficult -- impossible, even, coming from him -- but now he was finding that it actually wasn't all that challenging.

"Get your coat," he ordered Faith, leading her down the stairs. (As if he would let her walk behind him, not two days after what had happened.) To Angel, he explained, "Slight change of plan. In about twenty minutes, the Council's Operations Team is coming here. They'll expect to find you gone and her drugged."

And him a ponce. No, Wesley wasn't letting that go. )

[[Warning for mild gun violence in this. Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC is love, all this was preplayed with a cool person I know called MYSELF though I stole icons from all the canonmates and old guest stars ever, what are you gonna do about it? Up early for... other stuff coming later. Shh. Follows this, this, this, this, this and this. DONE SPAMMING NOW. Almost.]]
wesleynotponcy: (fact: darts)
Wesley had thought he would go home. Or, well, back to school, rather, though for a while now "home" had been the best word for it. Either way, he'd been on the verge of calling for a cab from the mainland when he suddenly just -- couldn't. Not now, when his ineptitude was so obvious from looking at his face. Or really any part of him -- the injuries covered most of his body, and his every step or movement was accompanied by a wince of pain at the very least. And as he didn't much favor the idea of returning to school so people could gawk and bear witness to said ineptitude, he found himself somewhere rather uncharacteristic.

In a bar. In Baltimore. Where he was throwing darts, with exceptionally precise aim, at the bulls' eye of the dartboard. It wasn't even interesting, and he certainly didn't need the practice given that they hit one hundred eighty every time, but the only other thing he could think of to relieve this much anger would involve a gun, and all of his were locked away in his dormitory.

And he was drinking beer. Apparently if you looked this beat-up, people tended not to ask for identification, though he'd foregone his usual choice of scotch out of wariness of whatever swill they'd be passing off as whiskey here.

He was having a miserable evening, but that was fine so long as no one was around to bear witness to anything he'd botched up. Throwing darts, at least, he had some skill at. And practicing in spite of the limp, the pain all over his body that the bad American beer was doing absolutely nothing to help numb, and the lack of feeling in his throwing arm, well, that was an extra challenge, wasn't it?

It was a bit unfortunate that Wesley had been hoping not to reminded of his failures tonight. )

[[Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC would give me the warm fuzzies, and this is post six of seven. Follows this, this, this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (fact: darts)
Wesley had thought he would go home. Or, well, back to school, rather, though for a while now "home" had been the best word for it. Either way, he'd been on the verge of calling for a cab from the mainland when he suddenly just -- couldn't. Not now, when his ineptitude was so obvious from looking at his face. Or really any part of him -- the injuries covered most of his body, and his every step or movement was accompanied by a wince of pain at the very least. And as he didn't much favor the idea of returning to school so people could gawk and bear witness to said ineptitude, he found himself somewhere rather uncharacteristic.

In a bar. In Baltimore. Where he was throwing darts, with exceptionally precise aim, at the bulls' eye of the dartboard. It wasn't even interesting, and he certainly didn't need the practice given that they hit one hundred eighty every time, but the only other thing he could think of to relieve this much anger would involve a gun, and all of his were locked away in his dormitory.

And he was drinking beer. Apparently if you looked this beat-up, people tended not to ask for identification, though he'd foregone his usual choice of scotch out of wariness of whatever swill they'd be passing off as whiskey here.

He was having a miserable evening, but that was fine so long as no one was around to bear witness to anything he'd botched up. Throwing darts, at least, he had some skill at. And practicing in spite of the limp, the pain all over his body that the bad American beer was doing absolutely nothing to help numb, and the lack of feeling in his throwing arm, well, that was an extra challenge, wasn't it?

It was a bit unfortunate that Wesley had been hoping not to reminded of his failures tonight. )

[[Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC would give me the warm fuzzies, and this is post six of seven. Follows this, this, this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (five by five: gag 3)
The first thing Wesley could think was that this was nothing like those minor burns he'd sustained in Panem. It hurt much, much more. )

[[Warning for graphic descriptions of torture under the cut. This is taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five," and this wraps up that episode (and the spam for the evening). NFB, NFI, OOC is as good as punching Faith in the nose okay maybe not quite as good, and this is post five of seven. Follows this, this, this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (five by five: gag 3)
The first thing Wesley could think was that this was nothing like those minor burns he'd sustained in Panem. It hurt much, much more. )

[[Warning for graphic descriptions of torture under the cut. This is taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five," and this wraps up that episode (and the spam for the evening). NFB, NFI, OOC is as good as punching Faith in the nose okay maybe not quite as good, and this is post five of seven. Follows this, this, this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: with fred (curious fred))
Wesley had the police reports open as he and Cordelia made their way through the halls of her building toward her apartment. No, he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about leaving, nor was he about taking Cordelia back to school with him, but it was clear that Angel was not budging on this matter and Wesley couldn't blame the man for not wanting him around in a situation when he was so obviously useless. He had a bird to take care of, he told himself firmly, and that was that.

Not to mention, of course, that the prospect of going up against whatever Faith was planning was utterly terrifying.

"There was another assault just two blocks away," he reported, squinting down at the page while Cordelia peered over his shoulder. "A fight in a bar, several arrests made, and a woman fitting Faith's description was involved -- however, not arrested."

Well, it seemed the Los Angeles police force was about as effective as the one in Sunnydale, then. )

[[Warning for mild violence under the cut. Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post four of seven; follows this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: with fred (curious fred))
Wesley had the police reports open as he and Cordelia made their way through the halls of her building toward her apartment. No, he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about leaving, nor was he about taking Cordelia back to school with him, but it was clear that Angel was not budging on this matter and Wesley couldn't blame the man for not wanting him around in a situation when he was so obviously useless. He had a bird to take care of, he told himself firmly, and that was that.

Not to mention, of course, that the prospect of going up against whatever Faith was planning was utterly terrifying.

"There was another assault just two blocks away," he reported, squinting down at the page while Cordelia peered over his shoulder. "A fight in a bar, several arrests made, and a woman fitting Faith's description was involved -- however, not arrested."

Well, it seemed the Los Angeles police force was about as effective as the one in Sunnydale, then. )

[[Warning for mild violence under the cut. Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post four of seven; follows this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: earnest)
Wesley was still shaken by the time they returned to Angel's offices, and he was barely managing to keep from jittering as Angel wrapped up his phone call with Rupert Giles.

Faith was dangerous. She hated all of them -- perhaps Wesley most of all, though it felt arrogant to even suspect so. And he couldn't stop remembering the badly-written and difficult to track down conversation he'd had with her future counterpart over a year ago in which she'd seemed to imply that she would do something still worse than her offenses in Sunnydale later down the road. Sharing that with Cordelia and Angel seemed like more trouble than it was worth, but he, personally, was alarmed by it.

Then Angel hung up the phone, interrupting Wesley's stream of thoughts. )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome, post three of seven. Follows this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: earnest)
Wesley was still shaken by the time they returned to Angel's offices, and he was barely managing to keep from jittering as Angel wrapped up his phone call with Rupert Giles.

Faith was dangerous. She hated all of them -- perhaps Wesley most of all, though it felt arrogant to even suspect so. And he couldn't stop remembering the badly-written and difficult to track down conversation he'd had with her future counterpart over a year ago in which she'd seemed to imply that she would do something still worse than her offenses in Sunnydale later down the road. Sharing that with Cordelia and Angel seemed like more trouble than it was worth, but he, personally, was alarmed by it.

Then Angel hung up the phone, interrupting Wesley's stream of thoughts. )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome, post three of seven. Follows this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (watcher: lecturey)
As usual, what Wesley had intended to be a brief visit to Los Angeles had ended up stretching longer than expected. Portalocity hadn't been able to book him a portal so late at night without connections during war periods that he'd really prefer not to pass through, so he'd slept on the couch in the office (which was terribly uncomfortable and not something he ever wished to do again). And in the morning, Cordelia received a phone call from a potential client, and Wesley -- well, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to be helpful, even if he did worry about whether he'd left Katniss enough birdseed.

He, Cordelia and Angel stepped out of the elevator of the office building where their client worked, and Wesley had to ask:

''I don't suppose you know just what it is we've been hired to do?'' )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post two of seven; follows this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (watcher: lecturey)
As usual, what Wesley had intended to be a brief visit to Los Angeles had ended up stretching longer than expected. Portalocity hadn't been able to book him a portal so late at night without connections during war periods that he'd really prefer not to pass through, so he'd slept on the couch in the office (which was terribly uncomfortable and not something he ever wished to do again). And in the morning, Cordelia received a phone call from a potential client, and Wesley -- well, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to be helpful, even if he did worry about whether he'd left Katniss enough birdseed.

He, Cordelia and Angel stepped out of the elevator of the office building where their client worked, and Wesley had to ask:

''I don't suppose you know just what it is we've been hired to do?'' )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post two of seven; follows this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (fact: driving)
He'd gotten the call just as he was unpacking his things on Sunday. Cordy'd had a vision -- a Mr. Ernesto Marquez, being chased by Werd'Nha demons. Wesley knew the breed – pyromaniacs, the lot of them. Burned human limbs for sport, and, according to a source of Angel's who was apparently quite reliable, a clan of them were on the employ of Wolfram and Hart. Angel said, in the tone of someone wearily going along with someone else's insistence, that if Wesley could catch a portal before sundown, he could help out. So after hurriedly setting out the food he'd been giving Katniss for the past few days, cracking open the window for her and promising to be back by morning, Wesley had set off for Los Angeles.

That was what brought him to the lot under the bridge, behind the wheel of Angel's convertible while Angel leaned over the side with a sword. While Cordelia had snarked at him upon his arrival at their office that this constituted chauffeur duty, Wesley thought of it as a bit more important than that. It wasn't as though Cordy could do it, and Angel needed someone to drive -- attempting to behead a Werd'Nha demon wasn't terribly difficult on its own, just a simple, well-placed swipe, but it got considerably more challenging when the beheader in question was operating a car at the same time. No, Wesley was essential for this, which was why he had a look of steadfast determination as he swerved the car just close enough for Angel to get a decent shot.

It was best not to ask when he'd gotten his driver's license.

Once the two demons had been taken out, Angel addressed the victim.

"Your name Marquez?" At the man's nod, Angel told him, "Good. I hate saving the wrong guy."

Well! That had gone as planned. And fairly quickly, too. If he hurried, Wesley supposed he could catch a portal right after their now-traditional late-night "breakfast, " check on Katniss and then get to sleep.

What he hadn't planned on, however, was the ooze that splattered him when a third demon approached Angel from behind and Angel took it out with an easy swipe. Eurgh. Perhaps he'd stick around just long enough for a nice shower, then.

[[Taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is welcome, and this is post one of seven so sit tight.]]
wesleynotponcy: (fact: driving)
He'd gotten the call just as he was unpacking his things on Sunday. Cordy'd had a vision -- a Mr. Ernesto Marquez, being chased by Werd'Nha demons. Wesley knew the breed – pyromaniacs, the lot of them. Burned human limbs for sport, and, according to a source of Angel's who was apparently quite reliable, a clan of them were on the employ of Wolfram and Hart. Angel said, in the tone of someone wearily going along with someone else's insistence, that if Wesley could catch a portal before sundown, he could help out. So after hurriedly setting out the food he'd been giving Katniss for the past few days, cracking open the window for her and promising to be back by morning, Wesley had set off for Los Angeles.

That was what brought him to the lot under the bridge, behind the wheel of Angel's convertible while Angel leaned over the side with a sword. While Cordelia had snarked at him upon his arrival at their office that this constituted chauffeur duty, Wesley thought of it as a bit more important than that. It wasn't as though Cordy could do it, and Angel needed someone to drive -- attempting to behead a Werd'Nha demon wasn't terribly difficult on its own, just a simple, well-placed swipe, but it got considerably more challenging when the beheader in question was operating a car at the same time. No, Wesley was essential for this, which was why he had a look of steadfast determination as he swerved the car just close enough for Angel to get a decent shot.

It was best not to ask when he'd gotten his driver's license.

Once the two demons had been taken out, Angel addressed the victim.

"Your name Marquez?" At the man's nod, Angel told him, "Good. I hate saving the wrong guy."

Well! That had gone as planned. And fairly quickly, too. If he hurried, Wesley supposed he could catch a portal right after their now-traditional late-night "breakfast, " check on Katniss and then get to sleep.

What he hadn't planned on, however, was the ooze that splattered him when a third demon approached Angel from behind and Angel took it out with an easy swipe. Eurgh. Perhaps he'd stick around just long enough for a nice shower, then.

[[Taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is welcome, and this is post one of seven so sit tight.]]

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