Never Good Enough
by, T.C. Healy
Part Two
It was almost nightfall, when Angel entered the “Other Relm” pub. As he slipped in through the back, only a few demons turned to notice. The rest, went about their business of drinking. Drinking to forget lives. Forget their pain. Forget the fact that they live in a mortal world, they could never belong..
It was a feeling, Angel knew all too well.
“Just to let you know,” the bartender announced to him, “We don’t serve what you need.”
“I wasn’t looking for a drink,” he said, “I’m looking for Frank Stanton. He comes by here a lot.”
The bartender reached under the lip of his bar and began to mix a drink, “Frank, who?” he mumbled, “Never heard of a Frank. Sorry.”
Angel shook his head and slipped his hand into his pocket. Pulling out a couple twenties, he palmed it to the bartender, “Are you sure you’ve never heard of Frank?”
“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, sticking the money in his vest pocket, “That Frank. Yeah, he comes by here, a few times a week. Why?”
“His wife is worried about him.”
The bartender made a tsking noise, “From what I understand, his wife doesn’t exactly care much about him.”
“She cares now, that her kid is missing, and so is he,” Angel said truthfully, hoping that it would make a difference.
It did.
“You think Frank might have kidnapped his kid?”
“It’s a possibility.”
The bartender shook his head, “That don’t make sense. Frank aint that kinda guy.”
“What do you mean?”
The bartender finished mixing the drink and gave it to a three horned customer, “He’s a pretty good guy. You know...quiet, friendly. I never had a problem from him.” He motioned to a few of his ‘regulars’, “Now some of these guys on the other hand...”
“Just because he seems like a nice guy,” Angel pointed out, “doesn’t mean he wouldn’t kidnap his son.”
“No,” he nodded, “But why should he when he was going to get custody of the kid.”
“Legally?” Angel’s interest was piqued.
“Well, as legal as demons can get,” he nodded, “Frank came by last week, happier than a Troglodyte in muck, telling anyone who would listen how he managed to get the Triad’s permission to get custody of his kid.”
“Triad?” Angel had a fair extent of demon knowledge, but even this escaped him.
“Yeah,” the bartender nodded, “It’s kinda like a group of elders that decide things that can’t be brought into court. Very underground. Very new. You see, the demon population is growing, and life is getting more complicated.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“With that,” the bartender went on to explain, “comes the need to keep things organized. And that would be the job of the Triad. You’re a demon, where the hell have you been?”
“I’m beginning to wonder,” he sighed, “So, they ruled on him to get custody of Charlie? Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said truthfully, “You know how divorces are. A bunch of ‘he said, she saids’. I guess Frank felt his wife wasn’t a good enough mother. And the Triad agreed.”
“Can I see this Triad?”
The bartender shook his head, “Are you kidding? You’re a vampire. They won’t see you. Their rules aren’t for your kind.”
Angel shook his head. Nothing made sense. He was desperately trying to sort out the truths from what must have been lies, but couldn’t decide on what was which. “So, have you seen him at all, other than last week?”
“Nope. He came in, met his girlfriend, and they left together.”
A girlfriend! Now he was getting somewhere. “Do you know who this girl is?”
“Oh, yeah,” he smiled, “Name’s Celinda. No last name. Kinda like the Madonna of the demon world...only way sexier. She’s a dancer at this club called, ‘Body Parts’. Her show’s usually at eleven.”
“Thanks.” Angel said, getting up from the stool.
“Hey,” the bartender called out to him, as he was leaving, “if you go there tonight...”
“Yeah?” Angel turned around.
“Bring plenty of dough. She’s worth it.”
****** By the time Angel returned to the office, it was already past eight, and Wesley and Cordelia were both sitting in the front room. There was a strained silence between the two, almost as though they were once fighting. But as soon as their boss entered, the silence was broken with a barrage of questions.
“So,” Wesley spoke first, “did you find out anything?”
“I hope you found out more than I did,” Cordelia snorted, “Oh, I did learn that Frank likes horses, and the stable guy’s name is Brian. Who, by the way, is a Libra, and asked for my number. Just in case anyone cares. And I stopped by Frank’s apartment, which, let me tell you, his building makes my old apartment look like the Hilton. Anyway, I stopped by his place....and he wasn’t there. When I asked the Super, he told me that Frank hasn’t been there in days....not that he would tell me much about him...”
Angel walked over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. Taking a sip, he quickly wished he hadn’t, “I don’t know,” he placed the mug down, “nothing makes sense. From what the bartender said, Frank just doesn’t fit the profile of an abusive parent. I’m not even sure that he kidnapped Charlie.”
Wesley’s eye narrowed slightly, “Why would you say that?”
Angel walked over to the computer and began typing, “He mentioned something about Frank getting custody of Charlie at some kind of hearing.”
“Okay, demons have hearings now?” Cordelia asked, slipping in behind him.
“Something called the Triad,” he stopped when he reached a strange looking site, “Like a secret demon council, of some kind.”
“So secret,” Cordelia began to read, “that it even has a website?”
“Well,” Angel hedged, “It’s a secret from...vampires, anyway. We’re not allowed to partake in Triad rulings.”
“So, Rudolf isn’t allowed to play reindeer games, huh? That’s pretty harsh.”
“And you take the word of a pub owner, who I’m sure you had to bribe to attain this bit of information?” Wesley looked at Angel suspiciously, “What makes you think he’s telling the truth?”
“Nothing,” Angel agreed, “which is why we’re continuing the investigation.”
“I don’t know,” Cordelia kept looking at the computer screen, “That stable guy, Brian, thinks Frank’s a pretty decent guy, too. And even though the Superintendent didn’t say much about him...he didn’t say anything bad.”
“Wonderful,” Wesley became irritated, “So now we’re taking advise from barkeeps and stable hands? Two people who know probably less about Mr. Stanton than we do. Well, I spoke to Charlie’s teacher, and she paints a very different portrait of the man, and the situation.”
“Yeah, but Wes,” Cordelia started.
“And did it ever occur to either of you that he’s just putting on a good show for outsiders?” Wesley’s temper flared.
“We’re not saying...” Angel tried to explain.
“Yes you both are!” He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, “The man could play the part of a saint, for all I care. The fact remains that underneath all that pleasant exterior, beats the heart of an uncaring monster!”
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving both Cordelia and Angel behind...stunned.
“Identify much?” Cordelia huffed.
“Huh?”
She walked around the desk and took a bottle of water out from the tiny refrigerator, “Oh come on, you can’t see it. I mean, we all know about Wesley’s dad...”
Angel shook his head and headed for the door, “Do we really?”
*~*~*~*~* *SMITHFIELD, ENGLAND: 1983*
Outside a small, slightly worn church, dozens of parishioners exited into the bright, Sunday sun. Laughter and chatter filled the air, as men, woman and children, dressed in their finest clothes, engaged in friendly conversations, and plans for the warm spring day.
“I must say,” Richard told the Vicar, a plump man in his late fifties, “that was one of the finest sermons you’ve ever given.”
“Thank you, Richard,” he smiled broadly, patting the man on the back, “I’m glad you took it to heart.”
“I did indeed,” he smiled back, taking his thirteen year old son’s hand, “Respect and loyalty to one’s family is the backbone of our society. I mean, without your family, what do you have?”
“A very lonely life,” the Vicar nodded, “So,” he began to walk over to the small courtyard, “are you and your family planning on joining us for the church picnic? I hear Mrs. Danvers is bringing some wonderful cherry pies.”
Richard looked down at his son, who pleaded silently with a single look, “I would love to,” then noticing the wide grin on Wesley’s face, he continued, “but, unfortunately I can’t. I had something unexpected come up, and Wesley here, is far behind on his homework.” Wesley was about to protest, when Richard cut him off with a pseudo-smile, that only his son caught, “Now, now. None of that. You know we’re planning on visiting Aunt Rema later on. And you certainly can’t go if your homework isn’t done.”
“Yes, sir,” Wesley sighed, depressed that once more, he had to miss out on the joys of youth.
“Now, you run along and join your mother by the car,” he instructed, “I’ll be there in a moment.”
The Vicar watched Wesley trot off, “Where does the time go?”
“I wish I knew,” Richard sighed.
“Well,” he smiled, “Wesley has certainly turned out to be quite a polite young man. But he’s a bit quiet. How’s he coping with Collin’s death?”
Richard looked after his son, and sighed, “It’s been difficult....on us all, but he’ll manage. I mean, it has been nearly four years, to the day, that Collin...died. He just needs time to adjust.”
“But as you said, it’s been four years,” the Vicar pointed out, opening the gate, and stepping onto the green grass. He grinned at all the children playing, and running in the courtyard. “Wesley doesn’t play with many children, does he?”
“Well, he is a bit shy.”
The Vicar noticed a bit of tenseness in the man’s voice, “I’m sorry, I don’t wish to pry...”
“Oh no,” Richard said as affably as he could, “not at all. And I appreciate your concern. But, he’ll be fine...just give the boy some time. I’m sure, one day, he’ll turn out just fine.”
Richard left the happy courtyard to join his family by the car. Unlocking the door, he escorted them into the metal beast. As they drove away, he looked into his rear view mirror at his son, and snipped, “Don’t ever argue with me in public, understand?”
Wesley sighed, “Yes, sir.” he though for a moment, before asking, “So, when are we going to Aunt Rema’s?”
“Don’t be a dolt,” he huffed, “I had to tell the Vicar something. I certainly couldn’t say I was going to a secret Watcher’s meeting.”
“You’re going tonight?” Margaret asked.
“No,” he shook his head, “I’m going to drop you and Wesley off, and going straight there. I’ll be home for supper. In the mean time,” he directed to his son, “I want you to be practicing on your crossbow techniques. They’re sloppy at best.”
“Yes, sir.”
****** Wesley stood in the basement alone, crossbow in hand, carefully aiming at a target on the other side of the room. The wooden weapon was heavy in his hands, but the young boy remained steady...determined to hit the mark. He had been practicing for hours, while his father was away at the Watcher’s meeting. He so desperately wanted to make him happy; to impress his father with his skills, that Wesley skipped lunch to continue with his practice.
Not that the boy ate much.
He never really did. There just seemed to be too much going on in his head to allow him to concentrate on something as trivial as food. Besides, he needed to stay fit...or so his father impressed. Fit and ready for anything.
He slowly squeezed the trigger and heard the click and the rushing sound of the released bolt.
*CLANK*
“Missed,” he sighed, trudging over to pick up the broken bolt, “Again. I’m never going to get this right. And I’m rapidly running out of bolts.”
“Wesley, love,” Margaret called from the top of the stairs, “You’ve been down there for hours. Come up and have something to eat. You can practice later.”
Wesley sighed and placed another bolt in the chamber, “I’m not hungry, Mum.” he shouted back, aiming the new bolt at the, untouched target. “Besides, I really want to get this right, before dad comes home.”
Wesley, once again stood very still, taking careful aim on the target. Holding his breath, and saying a small pray, he released the trigger...
*THUD*
Perfect hit!
“Mum! Mum!” Wesley shouted with glee, “I did it! I got a perfect hit! Right in the center!”
He stopped when he heard the front door open, and his father’s voice echo from the kitchen. He gulped, knowing that it was now or never. He had to show him what he could do. He had to make him proud.
He pulled out the bolt from the target and loaded it back into the crossbow, as his father walked down the stairs.
“So, your mother says you’ve been practicing all day,” his father said with a weary voice.
Wesley looked up at him and noticed, for the first time, a tired look in his eyes. For a brief moment, he could almost see vulnerability in the man.
“Yes,” he nodded, “I’ve been practicing for hours. I missed most of them,” he said truthfully, “but I did manage to get a bullseye, right before you came home. Wanna see?”
His father only waved him on.
The boy took a deep breath and concentrated on the mark, trying to block out the feeling of his father’s eyes on his back. He couldn’t let him down. He just couldn’t.
Keeping a steady hand, he gently squeezed the trigger....
*THUD*
Perfect hit!
“I did it, again!” Wesley practically jumped for joy, “Second time in a row!”
“Yes,” his father sighed, as he walked up the stairs, “Very good. Now keep on practicing. You need to be able to hit the mark every time. Not just a few lucky shots.”
As the door closed behind him, Wesley stood in the basement, alone...feeling as empty as his crossbow.
*~*~*~*~* “I thought I’d find you here,” Angel said, walking up to the young man.
“Really?” Wesley mumbled, looking out from the top of the building at the city below.
“Yeah,” the vampire nodded, “it’s the first place I go when I want to be alone.”
“Well, obviously it’s not working for me.”
“Wes...”
The young ex-Watcher turned to him for the first time since Angel got to the roof and said, “I’m sorry for the outburst in the office. It was completely un-called for, and it won’t happen again.”
“Wesley,” Angel sighed, “Stop apologizing for being human. This is a rough case, that’s obviously hitting a nerve. You’re reaction is pretty normal.”
“Normal,” he gave a slight laugh, “I’m not sure what’s normal anymore. I was trained to see vampires and demons as the enemy. Creatures of darkness that needed to be destroyed. Now, I work for one, and I’m working on a case trying to help demons. Normal? And I’m not even sure *who* the villain is,” Realizing the last sentence was spoken aloud, he quickly changed the subject, “You’re right, I *am* under stress...but I swear to you, it will not effect my judgment again. What ever you feel is appropriate for the direction of this investigation, I’ll go along with it.”
“Okay,” Angel nodded.
Wesley took a deep breath and asked, “So, what do we do next?”
“How do you feel about seeing exotic dancers?”
****** She danced like a nymph, and looked like a goddess. A remarkable feat for a demon. But, Celinda was anything, if not remarkable. Angel sat in the front row of “Body Parts”, watching the nimble demoness slink across the stage, exuding sexuality from the bottom of her six inch stiletto heels to the tips of her...pointed ears.
“Okay,” Angel sighed, jaw dropping to his knees, “I have to admit, this is a new one for me. Wow!”
She was sexuality.
Angel continued to watch her in awe, trying to keep the drool to a minimum. He turned to Wesley, half expecting the young man to be practically on the floor, when he noticed something strange...nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Well, not exactly nothing....he did notice a strange look of detachment sweep over his friend. His mind was definitely elsewhere. Which was very hard to believe, considering where they were.
“You okay?” Angel asked.
“Fine,” Wesley murmured.
Angel was about to continue the conversation, when the crowd applauded loudly. Celinda’s act was over, and she was exiting the stage. Now was their chance to talk with her. The two men rose from their seats and headed over to the bar, where the dancer joined a few of her co-workers. She chatted softly with them, carefully adjusting her slinky halter top, “Did you see the two guys in the front row?” she asked one of the girls, “the tall, dark and brooding one...”
“Yeah, he was cute,” the one blue faced demon sighed.
“The other one was cute too,” a smaller red headed demoness argued.
“Yeah,” she nodded, “If you like the tragic masks. I mean, I was dancing my heart out and it looked like I was killing his dog...really creepy.”
“Speaking of...” one of the dancers said, pointing out Angel and Wesley as they approached.
“Hi,” Angel smiled, “I just wanted to tell you...you were great.”
“Thanks,” she said a bit brusquely. She eyed him up and down and tilted her beautiful head, “But, somehow I get the feeling that’s not all you wanted to say.”
“Do you know Frank Stanton?” Wesley cut in.
This put the dancer on guard immediately, “Why do you want to know?”
Angel looked at his partner with mild irritation, “I’m sorry. My name’s Angel,” he said, handing her a business card.
“ ‘Helping the hopeless’,” she read, “Cute slogan, but I’m not hopeless.”
“Is there someplace we can talk?” Angel asked, eyeing the several dancers who gathered around Celinda like bodyguards. “In private?”
“Whatever you say can be said in front of my friends,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.
“All right,” Wesley nodded, “We’re investigating Frank Stanton and his possible involvement of the kidnapping of his own son. Now considering you’re his girlfriend, or at least that’s what a bartender told us, and I’m sure we can get at least a half dozen corroboration’s...shall I continue?”
Angel was about to stop Wesley, until he realized that the brusque technique of the young man was working like a charm. “Now, if you’re not willing to help us,” Angel added fuel to the fire, “that would make you an accessory...”
Celinda smiled and shook her head, “You have no proof of anything.”
“Does the name ‘Other Relm’ pub, ring a bell?” Angel drove home.
The demoness grabbed his arm, and pulled Angel closer to her, “Don’t say that too loud!”
“Why?” Wesley raised his voice. “Is there something you’re hiding that you don’t want your employer to find out about? Moonlighting, perhaps?”
“Jesus!” she hissed, dragging Angel with her, “Come on. Let’s go someplace where your friend’s big mouth can’t get me into trouble!”
Angel grinned as she led them to a back room. After ushering a few stray dancers out, she closed the door behind them, “Now, what the hell do you want?”
“I believe we told you already,” Wesley rubbed his weary eyes.
“Yeah,” she nodded, “That Frank kidnapping his son. What’s it to you?”
“It means the safety of a little boy!” Wesley spat.
“Do you know where he might be?” Angel asked, playing the ‘good cop’ on this one, “It’s vital we find him and sort out this mess. We know he’s going through a bitter divorce, and this could just be a ploy by his wife...”
“Look,” she folded her arms, “You want to find him? Well I say good luck. I don’t know where he is, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you. How do I know you’re legit? I mean, you’re work for her, right?”
“You don’t know where he is?” Angel asked, dubiously, “You’re his girlfriend, I would think knowing his where-a-bouts would come with the territory...”
“Ex-girl friend,” she huffed.
“Ex?” Wesley sighed, the frustration level was rising again.
Celinda walked over to a vending machine and put a stray dollar she got from her garder belt, into the machine. She began to sip her Diet Coke, as she explained, “Frank and I got into a fight last week, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“The bartender said, he met you there last week, and the two of you left together,” Angel informed her.
“We met,” she nodded, taking another sip, “Frank called me and asked me to meet him there...around nine. I did. He took me back to his apartment. I figured he wanted a ‘quickie’ before I had to work. He didn’t. He seemed strange...distant. When I asked him what was wrong...he told me to butt out. So, I did. I know when I’m not wanted anymore.”
“And you’re sure you haven’t seen him since?” Angel asked once more.
Celinda stood up and walked over to the door, “Look, I think I would have remembered if I saw him or not. Now if you guys are through with the twenty questions, I would like to get back to work.” She paused in the door frame, “And, by the way, the next time I see you two here...I’ll get Bruno to ‘escort’ you out.” She pointed to the enormous bouncer standing by the wall, “Got it?”
“Yeah,” Angel sighed, as they left the club.
Walking back to the car, Wesley sighed, shaking his head, “She was lying. She knows where Frank is.”
“Yeah,” Angel nodded, “I think she does too,” he looked at his watch, “One in the morning. We still have several hours of darkness left. The club should be closing around two or three...”
“So we wait for her?”
Angel got into the car, “Yep. Then follow her to her place. Hopefully, Frank will be there.”
****** Three hours passed and still no sign of Celinda. When it was obvious that the place had finally closed for the night, Angel started the car up and pulled slowly away from the curb.
“What are you doing?” Wesley asked, seeing the club begining to fade from sight, “We have to wait until she comes out...follow her...”
“She’s not coming out,” Angel sighed, “Either that, or she went out the back. But it’s now four in the morning, and the sun will be up soon. We need some rest,” he turned to his companion, “Especially you, Wes. You look beat.”
“I’m fine,” Wesley shook his head, “We can’t just walk away from this lead, it’ll get cold.”
“And we can’t drive around L.A. hoping we run into her,” Angel pointed out, parking his car in front of his building, “We’ll go back out tomorrow...when we’ve rested first.”
Angel slowed the car, and parked in front of Wesley’s apartment. He noticed Wesley still sitting in the car, “Wesley,” he pleaded, “Get some rest.”
Wesley sighed and nodded, stepping out of the car and slowly walked toward the front door. It wasn’t until Angel’s car pulled away from the curb and drove off, that he turned around, and headed down the dark street. He couldn’t sleep now, even if he wanted to. There was too much going on in his head for him to sleep.
He couldn’t understand why Angel and Cordelia were so against the idea of Frank Stanton being an abusive father, when it was so clear....so evident. The bars. The gambling. A teacher who pleaded with a frightened woman to leave the man she married...everything pointed to Frank.
So why did they hesitate? Why couldn’t they see it?
Was it because of a few “outsider’s” opinions? If he had a penny for every “outsider” who thought his father was a saint, he would never have been stranded in America, without airfare, after the Council sacked him. Hell, he would have had enough money to live far better than he was now. Then again, as he thought of the half loaf of bread and jelly that sat alone in his refrigerator...he didn’t need much to improve on that.
Wesley rubbed his aching temples, as he walked down the dark streets. He never really liked the darkness, but over the years, he had grown accustomed to it...even, at times, welcomed it’s solitude. A Watcher lives in the dark, he could remember his father saying. He hunts in the dark. He fights evil, where evil resides...in the black of night.
But he still didn’t have to like it.
*~*~*~*~* *SMITHFIELD, ENGLAND: 1983*
“Please,” Wesley whimpered, trying to push the locked wooded door open, “its so dark in here. Can I come out now?”
Richard stood next to the tiny closet that was nestled underneath the stairs, and replied, “You can’t live your life afraid of the dark. A Watcher lives in the dark. And so will you, until you can accept it.”
“But, I can’t breath in here,” Wesley wrapped his arms around himself, trying desperately not to be overcome by the feeling of claustrophobia he was experiencing, “It’s too dark, and really cramped.” He waited for his father to respond. When he heard nothing, he called out, “Dad? Dad?”
Nothing.
He was alone in the collapsing darkness. He could feel the walls closing in around him, even though he could see nothing. Wesley tried to peer into the blackness, hoping he could catch a glimpse of some light. Instead, he saw nothing.
No light. No sun. No hope.
“Dad,” he choked a whisper, “Please let me out. Please. I’m not afraid of the dark anymore...see?” he lied, hoping his father would hear and release him from this cramped space in hell. He didn’t.
“Please,” he huddled in the corner, curling up into a tiny ball, “I won’t be afraid anymore. I won’t. I won’t. Please?”
*~*~*~*~* Wesley paused by a dark alley...a glimmer of light caught his eye. He cautiously approached the source, keeping his hand on the stake he always kept in his coat pocket. He peered into the darkness, trying to adjust his eyes enough to see in front of him, and to see any threat that might jump out at him.
It was too dark out for him to see.
Too dark.
Wesley, took a deep breath to steady his nerves, “Get a hold of yourself. This hasn’t bothered you in years....don’t let it start now.” He continued into the alley, hearing slight clanking noises from ahead.
As he neared, the clanking began to increase in intensity, joined with a faint rustling noise. Something was definitely in this alley! Something that didn’t want to be disturbed. Wesley pulled out his stake and inched closer...waiting....waiting...
Suddenly an orange cat jumped out of a garbage can, toppling it over onto the dirty ground, “Good god!” Wesley jumped back, catching his breath. He smiled and shook his head, as the cat slinked down the alley, completely unimpressed that he had almost become shish kebob. “How very cliché,” he sighed to himself, angry that he had worked himself up for a non threatening feline.
When he turned around and ran into a vampire, he suddenly realized that he was wrong about the threat. Completely wrong!
“Well, look what I have here,” the vampire smiled, bearing his fangs, and grabbing a hold of Wesley, “Lunch.”
“I’m really not in the mood for this,” Wesley snipped, struggling to escape, as the vampire pulled him closer.
“Now, where do you think you’re going?”
Remembering he was still carrying his stake, he swung it out, plunging it into the vampire’s chest. As the demon exploded into dust, Wesley sighed, “Not where you’re going.”
Brushing himself off, he walked quickly out of the alley, into the lamp-lit street. Well, if he wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now.
By the time he walked back to the office, the sun was rising high above the tops of the buildings, bathing the streets in the warm, friendly light. Wesley didn’t share the same sentiment though, having completely wasted an entire night. The young man knew that the longer it took to find the boy, the greater the danger he will be in.
But, where were they going to go next, when every turn became a dead end?
He trudged into the elevator and closed the gate. Pushing the button for the office floor, he waited patiently while the machine came to life, ascending high into the heart of the building. When the doors opened, he slipped out, walking slowly to the office.
Wesley ran his fingers through his hair, realizing that he should have at least showered before returning to work. Angel would notice. Lately, he seemed to notice everything. There was a time, when he first joined up with Angel Investigations, he would have done anything to be noticed...to be appreciated, which was something he lacked not only back in England, but in Sunnydale as well. Now, all he wished for was that his ‘employer’ would continued to ignore him, as he did, not too long ago.
For, the more he pried, the more of his past Angel would discover. And that was not something Wesley really wanted to explain...to anyone.
“Cordelia?” Wesley said, surprised, “You’re here early.”
“What?” Cordelia tilted her head, drinking a cup of coffee, “Can’t I be ‘morning girl’?” She paused, noticing Wesley for the first time, “Geeze, you look like something, even the cat wouldn’t drag in. Where did you sleep, in a dumpster?”
“Where did you sleep?” Angel asked, walking into the room.
Wesley fought an urge to strike out defensively, “I went home,” he lied, “I got a few hours rest. I guess in my haste to return to the case, I forgot to change.”
“Well, you also forgot to shower too,” Cordelia wrinkled her nose, “and shave. And...”
“WE get the point Cordelia,” Angel interrupted. Then turning to Wesley he offered, “Why don’t you use my shower? I’m sure there is a change of clothes there as well.”
Wesley nodded, “Thank you. I think I will clean up a bit.”
As soon as he left the room, Cordelia shook her head, “That’s a man who hasn’t seen his bed in a while.”
Angel sighed, “I know.”
Cordelia munched on her doughnut, “I wonder how many hours he’s been awake?”
Looking toward the closed door to the private elevator, he replied, “Long enough for it not to be good.”
****** Wesley stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. Hot water washed over his tired body, rejuvenating him slightly. As he ran soap over his body, his hand stopped at a small scar on his shoulder. It wasn’t very large, nor was it physically painful, anymore...but the memory of its origin still burned white hot...
*~*~*~*~* *SMITHFIELD, ENGLAND: 1984*
They had been sparring for hours. Man against boy. Blade, against blade. Wesley, now fourteen was beginning to finally be able to hold his own against his father’s brutal attacks. But Fencing, was not his strong suit. Not that he was terrible with a sword, he just preferred the accurately and distance of the crossbow. But, now that he had become proficient in that weapon, his father was no longer interested in seeing his son’s successes.
Only in highlighting his failures.
And the Epee...
“Strike when your back heal touches the ground,” his father instructed, parrying his son’s blows with ease. “And don’t let your guard down.”
“I’m trying not to,” Wesley said, concentrating on the beats of the attack, “but you’re not making this easy.”
Step. Step. Step. Parry. Step. Step. Strike, parry, strike.
“Get used to it, boy!” his father hissed, “Life will not be easy to you!”
Even thought the boy was almost as tall has his father, he still found the man intimidating. And that intimidation proved to be a burden in sparing.
“You’re holding back!” his father hissed, striking out at his son, “How will you learn if you hold back! Now fight!”
Wesley bit his lip, as the frustration mounted. He continued fighting to gain even a small amount of ground in the match, but found it nearly impossible. He was sparring with a man with many more years experience than he, and a far greater drive. It seemed to Wesley that his father, made it his life’s mission to show him how much of a failure he was, and how little he really meant to him.
“What is with you?!” his father shouted, “Is that all you have?! You’re completely useless!”
Those words hurt the young boy...but more importantly, it angered him. No matter how hard he tried, he could never please him. Never. But perhaps if he showed him what he could do, how he could succeed, he might be able to win his love...and respect.
Strike. Step. Step. Step. Step. Parry. Parry. Strike, parry, strike. Step. Parry...
“OW!” Wesley cried out, dropping his sword to the ground with a loud clank. He backed up, seeing a fair amount of blood ooze from a painful hole in his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what happened. One minute he was striking out, the next...
“Oh my god!” his mother called to her son, running down the steps and over to him. She inspected the whole in his flesh, frowned and picked up the fallen Epee, “Why wasn’t this tipped?” she asked her husband.
“Do you think his foes will tip the blades?” Richard snipped, “How is he ever going to learn how to be a man, if you’re constantly coddling him!”
She pressed a handkerchief up against the wound, trying to stop the blood from escaping her young son’s body, “I’m going to call the doctor.”
“You will do no such thing,” he growled, grabbing her arm painfully, “The last thing we need is for him to be prying into our affairs that are none of his concern!”
“But, Richard,” she pleaded with him, holding Wesley closer to her...and act that was as much to comfort her as it was son, “He needs this tended to.”
“Go and get your sewing kit,” he ordered, “boil some water, and fix it. You’re always sewing things. Now you can do something useful with it.” He sheathed his sword and walked over to his son, “Next time, when I tell you to keep your guard up...you’ll remember this day.”
Wesley bit his tongue as he watch his father walk up the steps to the first floor. His body was shaking, not only from the white hot pain in his shoulder and the reaction from his mother’s tears, but from something else. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, he felt something different for the man he called father...
Hatred.
*~*~*~*~* “His girl friend is a stripper?!” Naomi hissed, pacing the floor of the office. “A demon stripper?!”
“I take it you didn’t know this,” Angel said, sitting on the edge of the desk.
“I knew he had a girl friend,” she acknowledged, stopping to look at the vampire detective, “that was one of the reasons I left him. But I had no idea he would sink so low...”
“So leaving him was not at the advise of Charlie’s teacher, Miss. Henderson?” Wesley asked, sipping a luke warm cup of coffee.
“Vicky?” Naomi tilted her head in mild confusion, “You spoke with Vicky? Why would you do that?”
“It’s part of the investigation process,” Angel defended, “We have to get as much information as we possible can, to ensure that we do our job right.”
“But Vicky Henderson?” she continued to protest.
Wesley sat up straight in the couch, placing his mug down on the tiny table beside it, “Was there a problem with us going to her?”
“Well, no,” she hedged slightly, her eyes fell to the floor, “it’s just...she’s been my oldest friend for a long time. She’s practically family. I didn’t want to involve her in this mess.”
“But she did council you on leaving Frank?” Angel gently prodded.
“Yes,” she explained, “She warned me that I should have taken Charlie far away from him, that he might try and kidnap him...”
“Which is kinda funny, considering he was given custody,” Cordelia pointed out.
“What are you talking about?”
It was now time to make his move, “The Triad,” Angel explained, looking for a response from the woman, “it awarded him custody of Charlie.”
Naomi placed her hands on her hips. A look of panic swept over her pretty face, “The Triad? Who told you that?”
“Is it true?” Angel asked, not wanting to reveal his sources as yet.
“Absolutely not!” she grew defensive, “I mean, we did go to the Triad to get this whole divorce thing settled...Frank told me it was the only way for demons to get justice. Now I know what he meant.”
“I don’t understand,” Wesley stifled a yawn.
“Glad I’m not the only one,” Cordelia nodded, taking copious notes.
Naomi sat down in the other end of the couch and sighed, “He wanted Charlie. He said that he belonged with him...”
“Because of the whole demon thing, right?” Cordelia interrupted.
“Yes,” she nodded, “When we went to the Triad for the ruling on our separation, he said that things work differently for demons then they do for humans. The Triad would understand that, he said. And the Triad would rule fairly. I thought he was talking about the divorce...I had no idea...”
“So, you didn’t know about the ruling?” Wesley asked.
“Who told you there was a ruling?” She asked again.
“I went to the bar you told us about,” Angel began to explain, “And the bartender...”
“Trevor,” her eyes became slits, as she pursed her lips, “He told you?”
“Well,” Angel went on, “he said that Frank came in and practically announced it to the entire place...”
She stood up and began to pace again, “Oh, of course!” she shook her head, “And you believed him?!”
“Well he was pretty convincing.”
“Well, he’s a liar,” she spat, “Frank wouldn’t have needed to announce it, for Trevor to know what the Triad ruling was.”
“Why not?” Cordelia asked.
Naomi came to an abrupt stop, “Because he works for them.”
Cordelia sighed, and rolled her eyes, “Of course.”
The wheels were now spinning in Angel’s mind. Now, perhaps, he could get somewhere. “Naomi,” he instructed, “I want you to go home.”
“But-”
“When I get more information, I’ll call you,” he said. Seeing the pained expression of a worried mother, he added, “The best thing you could do right now is stay by the phone. I know it’s tough, but we can handle this. And besides, your son could call you.”
“You think he might?” she asked hopefully.
“That’s not out of the relm of possibilities,” he admitted.
“All right,” she nodded, reaching for her purse and walking to the door, “I have complete faith in you.”
When the door closed, Wesley turned to Angel, “I take it you have a plan?”
“Yeah,” Angel nodded, throwing on his trench coat, “I’m going to make an appointment to see the Triad.”
“Um, that’s great,” Cordelia nodded, “Only you forgot one tinsy tiny thing...you’re a vampire. Big no-no in the Triad’s eyes.”
“She’s right, you know,” Wesley agreed, standing up. “They’ll never let you in.”
“I think I know someone who could help, in that matter.”
“The bartender,” Wesley grabbed his jacket.
Angel stopped him, shaking his head, “You’re staying here.”
“Angel-”
“No,” Angel insisted, “Listen to me. If I can get to the Triad, it’s going to be very dangerous. I can’t let you come along.”
“And I can’t just sit here, while you go into the lion’s den,” he argued, “Remember, they don’t look very kindly on vampires. Even if you do manage to get inside, it could very well end up as a trap.”
“I know,” he agreed, “Which is another reason I can’t take you with me.” He sighed, knowing how much this was killing his partner, “Wesley, I’m going to tell you what I told Naomi...stay by the phone. I’ll call you the minute I get some information we can use.”
“Oh,” Cordelia smiled, “So you finally see the wisdom in the cell phone thing?”
“Wonderful,” Wesley said with biting sarcasm, “And what shall we do if they drive a stake through your heart?”
Angel grinned as he left the office, “You can keep my car.”
Wesley waited several minutes, until he was sure his employer was gone, to throw on his jacket.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Cordelia said, folding her arms.
Wesley didn’t bother looking at her, “I’m going out.”
Against better judgment, she positioned herself in between the door and the determined man, “Oh no you’re not.”
“Cordelia,” Wesley sighed, impatiently, “Get out of my way.”
“Angel told you to stay put.”
“Angel said, that I was not to go with him,” Wesley reasoned, placing his hands on her arms, “And I’m not. Now, please move.”
Cordelia shook her head, resisting the tugging of her friend, “Uh-huh. Not until you tell me where you’re going.”
Wesley released her and backed off slightly. He could see he wasn’t going to get anywhere unless he told her, “I’m going back to the club, to see if I can’t get Celinda’s address.”
“They’re not going to just give it to you,” Cordelia argued, “Besides, I thought you and Angel can’t go back there, without bodily injury?”
“Cordelia!” Wesley was now loosing his patience with the young woman.
“Fine,” she huffed, stepping aside, and reaching for her own jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“Going with you.” She said, matter-of-factly.
“I don’t need you tagging along,” Wesley grumbled.
“Oh yes you do,” she pointed out, “Someone has to be there when they grind you to a pulp,” she smiled, “And just so happen to have the mop and bucket.”
Wesley shook his head. Part of him was grateful for her offer...even if it was a “Cordelia” style offer. But another part of him just wanted, for once, to be able to do something without people telling him he can’t.
*~*~*~*~* *SMITHFIELD, ENGLAND: 1985*
Wesley sat in class, vaguely listening to the teacher drone on about something or other. He found it almost impossible to pay attention. Even if the teacher had anything pertinent to say, he doubted it would have held his interest today. Today, the only thing Wesley could think about was Rebecca Thomas, and the invitation she gave him to her birthday party.
She gave it to him personally.
Rebecca!
Wesley sighed, dreaming about her long chestnut brown hair, and her deep blue eyes. She was the most beautiful creature on earth...and she noticed him. He couldn’t wait for the teacher to dismiss class for the day, so he could run straight home and wrap the modest gift he managed to buy her with a month’s worth of allowances.
“You know,” Terrence Stipen sneered, as they left the school to head for the bus stop, “She only invited you because she felt sorry for you.”
“What?” Wesley hardly noticed the heavy set boy.
“Becca felt sorry for you,” he continued with the jab, “seeing as you’re such a...”
“Hey!” A short, plump girl pushed in between the two boys, “Bugger off, Terry!” she turned to Wesley and smiled, “Don’t listen to him, Becca likes you.”
“Really?” Wesley’s attention was caught, “She does?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, readjusting her book bag, “she thinks you’re sweet.”
“Sweet?” Wesley frowned, as they stepped onto the bus.
Terrence knocked into him, smiling, “Sweet, huh? That’s the death sentence. It’s like saying...what a great personality he has.”
“Bugger off!”
****** Wesley raced into his house and straight upstairs. He practically tore apart his room to find the small music box he so carefully hidden from his parents. Then he dug around for some wrapping paper, left over from Christmas. He couldn’t wrap the gift fast enough. Just thinking that in a few hours he would be in the same house as Rebecca, drinking from the same punch bowl, and sharing the same good time, encouraged him to speed up the process. As though, the faster he could get the gift ready to be presented, the faster time would fly.
Once the present was wrapped, the next problem was what to wear. Opening up his small closet, Wesley sighed at the choices of attire...which was not much. At least not much, that his classmates would consider “cool”.
A shirt and tie?
No.
How about that tan polo shirt, and his brown trousers?
No. Still to conservative. This was a party with a group of teenagers, not an informal Watcher’s convention.
Jeans! Of course! One could never go wrong with jeans.
Wesley reached for the only pair of blue jeans he owned, and opened his dresser drawer to find a tee shirt. When he finally made the right match, he smiled with the knowledge that he wouldn’t make an idiot of himself...at least with his clothing. Then he checked his watch. Damn. Still two more hours until the party. And his father would be home in one hour.
Now this would be a problem....considering he failed to mention the invitation to his parents. But he figured, if he told them now, once he accepted and bought the gift, how could they say no. Right? And it was for only a few hours. Being a Friday night, he didn’t think it would be too much of a problem. He hoped.
When his father came home, Wesley sighed, and braced himself. He cautiously descended the steps to the living room, where his father was sitting in his favorite chair. The older man looked tired, worn out...but not in a bad mood. Now would be the perfect time. If he could find the courage.
“Dad?” Wesley could hardly speak above a whisper, “How was your day?”
“Long,” his father sighed, slipping out of his shoes, and turning on the television, “right now all I want to do is watch some tellie.” He paused, realizing that his son wanted to say something more, “What is it?”
“Well...” he hedged, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake in asking, “I-I was wondering...well...”
“Spit it out, or shut up. But stop babbling.”
Okay...here it goes...
“I was invited to Rebecca Thomas’ birthday party, and well....”
“When is it?”
“Um...tonight.”
Richard sat up, and looked at his son with mild annoyance, “And you thought to tell me now?”
Wesley tried hard not to let his father intimidate him into babbling, “Well, you’ve been so busy lately...and tired...I just didn’t want to bother you...”
Now, his father stood up and walked up to his nervous son, “I know exactly why you’re telling me now,” he sneered, “You figured, that if you told me on the night you were supposed to go, I wouldn’t say no. Am I close?”
“No,” he shook his head furiously, “I-I swear, it’s not like that-”
“Oh I think it is,” he shot back, “And I don’t appreciate you lying to me!”
“But-”
“You’re not going.”
Wesley felt his whole world crashing down around him, “But dad, everyone else is going to be there. The whole class! And Becca really wanted me to go-”
“So, one little tart shakes her tail, and you jump at the chance be near her?!” He spat out viciously.
“She’s not a tart,” Wesley defended her honor, feeling the heat rising in his gut, “She’s a really nice girl...”
“Well, you’re not going.”
“Why not?” Wesley asked, showing more bravery than he actually felt.
“I really don’t need to give you a reason,” Richard growled, “but if you insist...she’s not one of ‘us’.”
“One of us?” Suddenly Wesley understood what his father meant, “Oh, because she’s not from a long line of Watchers, she’s not good enough for us? We’ve had Watcher blood in our family for generations...and we aren’t good enough for them...”
“That’s enough!”
“But you want to keep pretending we are,” he continued, anger taking the place of fear, “Well I don’t! These are my friends, and I want to be with them. For once in my life, I want to be allowed to have friends, that don’t slay things!”
“Go to your room!”
“I want to have a normal life!”
“Go to your room!”
“I want to have a normal father, like everyone else!”
*SLAP!*
Wesley stood shaking, but not backing down from his father’s sudden strike. He was determined never to show him fear again...even in the face of the beating he knew he was about to receive.
In the end, he didn’t go to the party, only because he didn’t want the marks to show. Not because of the command. For the first time in his life...it was his choice...not his father’s. And he knew things would never be the same again.
Part Three
Never Good Enough Index
Tamara's Angel Fiction SGtVS/Hyperion Index Vault