Angel's Apartment | Los Angeles, CA | Evening

[wesleynotponcy]

The rush of adrenaline one got from being a part of something real and meaningful was all too new to Wesley, it having been so long since he’d last had the opportunity to assist on something like this.

“Have you already lain out the binding powder?” he asked as he followed Angel down the stairs to his quarters at a brisk pace.

“Yeah, Cordy handled it.”

“And what supplies are available?”

They rounded the corner at the end of the stairwell and Angel gestured to a table, fully-stocked with the equipment that was relevant in a case like this. “Most of it’s from the local church.”

Wesley walked over, picking up vials and examining them carefully. Upon finding a small jar of a familiar powder, Wesley started. “It’s an Ethros, then,” he said.

Angel nodded. “The nun – she said they’re powerful. It’ll take tremendous strength. Mental strength.” The unspoken question hung in the air – whether Wesley would be able to handle it. Ordinarily he would consider that something of an affont, particularly given the fact that Angel had already called him, no doubt believing that Wesley was the only option. But now he was to preoccupied to give it much thought. 

“Resistance to suggestion. Yes, I understand that.”

He picked up a vial and shook it, pouring its contents out on the table. 

Angel surveyed him for a moment, then sighed and nodded. “Fine. You’ll do it. Do you have everything you need?”

Wesley glanced at the book on the table, already opened to the page he needed, and did a quick inventory of the supplies available. “Everything is in order,” he answered, then paused. “Oh.”

“What? What ‘oh’?” Angel asked, hurrying over to get a look at the book.

“I believe I know how the priest was killed,” said Wesley. “When an Ethros is cast out, it immediately seeks another body to inhabit. The demon is expelled with such force that the newly inhabited rarely survives."

Angel paused. “That’s a problem.” 

“I daresay.” 

A sudden commotion from the other room caught his attention, and then the sound of racing footsteps. Wesley seized the supplies he needed from the table and darted with Angel into the bedroom, where the possessed boy was on the bed, in the process of choking his mother to death.

Wesley brandished a cross in the boy’s face, exclaiming, “Omnis spiritus in munde. In nomine dei!”

The boy screamed and then fell silent, collapsing onto the bed.

“It’s retreated back into the boy,” Wesley said after a long pause. He surveyed the child on the bed, taking into account the demonic marks on his face induced by Angel’s initial work on him. “I’ll perform the ritual. You’d best look into how to stop the demon once it’s been released.” 

Angel gave him a steady look. Then he nodded. “Paige,” he said to the boy’s mother, gesturing for the door. “We’ll have to give Wesley space to do this.” 

He opened the door and escorted Paige out of the room, giving Wesley one final look before closing the door behind him. Wesley took a breath and steeled himself for what he was about to do, then turned once more to face the boy, book in hand. If he couldn’t motivate himself to do it now, he’d never finish it. 

The boy was silent and motionless. Even though the lights were flickering in a most ominous manner, he took comfort from that. It was good – it kept him from panicking too much, at least to start. 

“Omnis spiritus in munde,” he recited softly, glancing at the book on the nightstand for clarification even though he knew the ritual by heart. “In nomine dei. Omnis spiruts in – ” 

The boy stirred and looked up. In a deep, demonic voice, he snarled, “Your Latin sucks.” 

Wesley froze. His hands shook as he splashed some holy water in Ryan’s direction. At the sound of searing demon flesh, he hurried to pick up the book from the table to keep it out of the boy’s reach. 

“I – I know your tricks,” he stammered, swallowing once to keep his nervousness from being terribly obvious. “You’ll not d-deter me from doing what must be done.” 

The boy looked up at that, yellow eyes glinting. “You? Do something?” He laughed. “What makes you think you can do anything?” 

Wesley tried to shut that out as much as he could. At the very least, he kept the tremor out of his voice – he knew from experience the sort of disaster that could result from mispronounced Latin. “In odorem suavitatis. Tu autem effugare, diabole. Appropinquabit enim judicium dei.” 

The boy cut him off once more. “You couldn’t even watch,” he murmured, the demonic voice making the cruel words sound even harsher to Wesley’s ears. “Everyone knows you got fired ‘cause you couldn’t do anything right.” He leaned in, a faint smile on his lips. “Nothing is going to make him proud of you.” 

Maybe Angel was right. Maybe he couldn’t – no! 

Wesley did his best to sound confident in his response. “Skimming the surface of my mind,” he said. “Very good. But a mere – a mere parlor trick.” He managed to keep his hands from shaking as he brandished a cross at the boy. “How many crosses am I holding up?” he snapped. 

When the boy fell flat on the bed once more, he continued. “Omnis spiritus immunde. In nomine dei.” 

He supposed he only had himself to blame when the boy spoke again, this time in Wesley’s own voice. “All those hours locked up under the stairs and you still weren’t good enough,” he accused. The words rang eerily similar to Wesley’s own thoughts and he stumbled backwards. “Not good enough for Daddy, not good enough for the Council.” 

His shoulders shaking, Wesley did his best to go on with the ritual. “Omnis – omnis spiritus – ” he stammered, flipping through the pages. “Er. That is to say – ” 

Back in the demon’s voice, Ryan laughed. “Lose your place?” His eyes narrowed. “What makes you think these people want you around any more than the others did?” 

The door burst open and Angel walked in, purpose clear in his decisive steps. “Because I invited him here.” 

Ryan snorted. “Then you’re stupider than he is.” 

Wesley caught Angel’s eye and took a deep breath. Maybe he could do this after all. Angel was watching, and he had to do it properly, or else this would just be one more person he’d fail, one more task he’d leave uncomplete. 

“Tu autem – ” 

“Go ahead, Wesley, tell him why he’s a fool to trust you,” Ryan hissed. 

“Effugare, diabole – ” 

When Ryan spoke this time, it was in Angel’s voice. “Tell him how you manage to hurt everyone in your life.” 

Wesley’s voice shook. “That’s not true.” 

“Oh, no?” Ryan laughed. “Your Slayers? Your girlfriend? Face it. You’re so afraid you’ll hurt anyone else, you’re not even able to do the ritual.” 

Spurred on by the boy’s accustations, Wesley lunged forward, cross in hand. “I’ll show you fear!” he cried, and he didn’t even notice that his foot scuffed the binding powder on the floor. 

The boy moved lightning-fast, his hand coming up to drive the cross back into Wesley’s neck. As Ryan laughed, Wesley stumbled to the ground and Angel pulled the cross out, Wesley clutching his bleeding neck.

[[NFB/NFI, OOC-friendly. Some dialogue taken from Angel 1x14, "I've Got You Under My Skin," some mine. One more to come!]]