Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

There were times -- like, for example, watching a pregnant vampire go into labor -- when Wesley had no choice but to look back upon what his life was like five, six years ago and wonder how in the world he'd gotten to this point.

( He could probably rattle off the list of events if someone was really curious, but at this point he found it best to just sigh and go with it. )

( Wesley was ridiculously out of his league when Gunn and Fred wheeled an ultrasound machine into the room and Angel barked at him to make it work, but no one seemed terribly bothered by that, so he was doing his best. )

[[taken and adapted for length from angel 3x08, "quickening." nfb/nfi.]]

Unfortunately, that fight? Hadn't gone so well. Hadn't gone well at all, actually; it had resulted in everyone being tossed in what was either a terribly-maintained basement that so happened to have bars on the door, or, more likely, a dungeon.

However! In what was surely a happy surprise for all, it turned out that the dungeon was not, in fact, meant to be a permanent storage center for the human-shaped prisoners. It might have been a less pleasant surprise, though, that their fate was left in the hands of someone who was purported to have a great deal of influence. Someone savage, someone powerful, someone with a great deal of influence over the way things were done in Pylea. This was the venerable monarch of Pylea, General of the Ravenous Legion, Eater of Their Enemies' Flesh, Prelate of the Sacrificial Blood Rites, and Sovereign Proconsul of Death, and she was prepared to pass sentence on upon them.

Or so the guard said as he announced her, anyway.

Then the doors to the throne room opened and Wesley's jaw dropped as he got a look at the highly bedazzled, bikini-wearing figure on the throne.

"Cordelia?"

There was a pause.

Then Cordelia dismissed the guards. And then she explained.

( Spoilers: She didn't really eat any enemies' flesh. )

[[again i say: nfb/nfi, ooc amazing as usual, adapted from angel 2x20 "over the rainbow" and 2x21 "through the looking glass," and preplayed with my favoritest people in the whole world: abitlowkey, inaskinnyway, brat_inslayage, thegodofxbox and life_inshadow. continued from here.]]

As it turned out, Cordelia hadn't called because there was some pressing emergency going on. On the contrary, when Wesley arrived at her apartment, it was to join Cordelia and Gunn at her kitchen table, continuing what seemed like about a day's worth of moping.

This lasted for several hours before Wesley stood up, energized by a… fly flying around the room. "What I wouldn't give for a roving band of Prekian demons right now," he announced.

They both turned to look at him. Then he amended, "Without the ritualistic slayings, of course."

( Oh, well, that settled that, then. )

[[nfb, nfi, mostly from angel 2x14, "the thin dead line."]]

Hours after Angel had gone off after Darla armed with a stake and a vengeance, Wesley looked up from his book -- homework, actually, if you wanted to get bogged down in specifics -- and asked what he supposed everyone was thinking.

( Or started to, anyway. )

[[nfb/nfi and ALMOST DONE.]]

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.]]

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.]]

So it was possible that Wesley's room was a tad bit untidy today and this was apparently a theme today, but this time it wasn't Alex's fault. Or at least, not entirely. Today's mess had something to do with the fact that Wesley was sitting on the floor, with papers strewn everywhere as he researched... a hotel.

Yes, he felt a bit silly about it himself, but it was what Angel had asked him to work on. So.

"A two hundred and forty-year old vampire with a soul with an interest in real estate," he murmured to himself, poring over an ownership deed that Cordelia had faxed over after being unable to make heads or tails of it. "Honestly."

[[open! good god, i haven't roomposted this one in forever, oops.]]