Needed

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

Timeline: about 9years after "Not Fade Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Beta: Dave

I had made a lot of mistakes on this and I appologize if they're still there after the do-over.


Chapter Four




Days and nights passed in an uninterrupted succession of problems. Wesley read, wrote, slept, ate, drank ("tea, thank you") and talked. He did research with the zeal of his days in the Angel-less "Angel Investigations". He drew up plans, made decisions, and only rarely accompanied Faith or Spike for fieldwork. He didn't trust his ability to protect the girls, so he never accompanied them on patrols.

Demons kept coming out like gnats before a storm. It was the fourth night in a row when Faith and Spike had left without the girls. They could contact him at any moment

He was within reaching distance of any book in the library, always poised to look up whatever they were facing and feed them the information they needed. Wesley was in constant contact with Faith and Spike through long range transmitters. Neither of them had said anything in a while, and Wesley was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on his lecture with the passing of every silent minute.

He changed the slide in the projector. The image of an ugly, ram-horned demon appeared on the screen.

"This is a Fyarl demon. They have an innate propensity for violence, backed up by considerable strength. From the account of a human who has been briefly turned into a Fyarl demon we know that they are virtually unable to control their violent tendencies. Indeed after only a few hours the human side was losing control over the Fyarl instincts. This is further proof of the theory that a being's form governs its behavior."

He touched the earpiece, willing it to come to life. The silence was worrying him more than the usual flood of snappy demands for information about whatever nightmarish creatures they were facing. He saw Alex watching him and tried to erase any trace of concern in his body language. The boy was coping remarkably well with the situation, but he had to keep intact the belief that his mother was unbreakable, and she would always return to him.

Wesley tried to conceal the depth of his relief when he heard Faith's voice.

"They've taken off. We're going after them. Gotta take them out before they reach the next town."

"All right," he said, sounding incredibly calm.

"We're gonna be out of range, so don't worry if you don't hear from us for a while."

"That's fine, Faith. Just don't forget to pick up some milk on your way back."

Wesley was desperately hanging on to such mundane details, trying to give their life a semblance of normality.

"They're going to be late," he informed his pupils.

"It's not something serious, right? They don't need backup or anything?" Eliana asked.

"No. They're just doing a sweep up. The Furlings are running away."

"It's getting worse every day."

This girl wasn't letting him get away so easily. He wished he could tell her that everything was going to be fine. They were looking at him with their eyes filled with all the questions they did not dare ask Faith or Spike. Wesley thought back at Mr. Giles and the Scoobies. At least he knew it could be done. There was a precedent for saving the world with only one Slayer, one vampire and a handful of kids. He owed them the truth.

"Yes, it is. And in a week or a month this is going to seem like a Hawaiian holiday. The prophecies speak of the coming darkness, and so far, we don't know how to fight it. When I read them last year, err... ten years ago, I took them to be about the time of the Beast. But that turned out to be... something else."

He refrained from thinking about that time. Connor. He wondered again if he should talk to the boy. He wasn't a boy anymore, Wesley made the time adjustment again. He had looked him up, Connor was alive and well. And alone. If Connor had started a family, Wesley's decision would be somewhat easier, but as things were unfolding, 'the Destroyer' would be a valuable addition to their team.

"How do you know this is it?" Eliana interrupted his thoughts. The girl had become the unofficial spokesperson of the group.

"I don't. I think it is, and I hope it's not. But that doesn't really matter. We have to do the job that's in front of us. You have to remember that nothing is unavoidable. Plans made by Gods, by entities so old they existed humans were around to remember them have been fought and thwarted by people like us. Mere humans."

"Yeah... like us. C'mon, what chances do we have? Faith is the only one with full Slayer strength. And both you and Spike have been known to die in Apocalypse-type events."

"We are strong. And we'll stay and fight. Not just because whatever it is, no matter how big or how bad, we don't have the luxury of running away. We'll make our stand, and we'll win because we are human, not in spite of it. You don't need a Slayer's or a vampire's strength to beat someone. Preparation, courage and intelligence can overtake brute strength. That's why you’re staying here with me, and you're not out patrolling. We have to study the old texts and prepare ourselves for whatve..."

He stopped in mid-sentence when he heard the roof intruder alert go off. He had installed magical alerts all through the building and all around it. He put a finger to his lips, demanding silence.

"Weapons," he commanded the girls in a whisper, keeping his voice perfectly level.

He turned on the security cameras, and watched the screen carefully. He reached down and handed Alex a small, battered backpack, already prepared for emergency situations. It was Faith's from the pre-Spike days and it held everything from a stake and a flask of holy water for vampires, to a silver-bladed dagger for werewolves, plus a couple of power bars, a flask of scotch and band aids.

"Take this and go into the kitchen. Stay by the emergency exit through the closet. If you hear anyone but us coming toward the kitchen, run." He took the headphone out of his ear, and gave it to the boy. "Keep trying to call your mother. They're probably out of range, but keep trying."

The second alert was triggered just as Alex was going into the kitchen. He could hear the girls coming up the stairs as he looked through the images of the camera from the backyard. When he looked up from the monitor, they were in front of him, in full battle gear. He took a crossbow off the wall, and reached for the sword Grace was holding out for him.

"Eliana, Miranda, go to the roof. There are at least four demons. Grace, come with me. We have about a some more demons in the back. Keep your transmitters open. Let's go!"

He cursed again the large building. He had had a quick tour of the place and he had made mental notes on the many problems they would have in the eventuality of a siege. They were under siege now. He had to divide his forces and that was bad strategy, but he had no choice. Bloody hell, how had they survived in that place?!

The two groups ran quietly in their preset directions. Wesley felt a rush of anticipation and fear rise through him. He was eager for the fight; staying in night after night and wondering if the others would come back was becoming unbearable. On the other hand, he had stayed out of the girls' combat training, and he could not help the concern that they wouldn't be up to the challenge.

"Let me know if they need any help," he whispered to Grace as they made their way downstairs.

She nodded, and changed her stake to the other hand. Her palms were probably sweaty. Not a good sign. Wesley's concern rose to a new level. The girls were supposed to learn to work as a team, but Wesley was feeling cut off. He wished he had his own transmitter. This wasn't bloody practice after all.

They were approaching the backdoors when they heard the muffled pounding on the wall. He motioned Grace to stay behind him, and picked up the pace. All of a sudden his year in Wolfram and Hart was gone, his death - never happened, his defeats - all gone. He was the man who had tackled a twenty-something feet tall fire-'breathing' demon with his bare hands, and just one friend by his side. He could almost feel Gunn next to him when he reached the crumbling wall.

When an arm punched through, he grabbed it and chopped it off. He signaled Grace to unlock the door and wait for him to get out first. The girl obeyed and Wesley ran passed her, determined to keep them out of the building. Once the alert was triggered, the holy water sprinklers were activated, and that insured that the vampires would be delayed, so he determined it was better to start thinning the attackers' numbers before they could even enter the building.

He plunged his sword in the demon while it was still howling in pain from losing its hand. Grace started fighting the demon running toward her.

"That's a Pargo. They can only be killed by drowning," he shouted at Grace before going toward the shapes moving fast through the darkness.

Some vampires were coming. He let Grace handle her demon as best she could, and fired his crossbow. When one of the shapes turned to dust, its companions roared and spread to go at him from different sides.

With the corner of his eye, Wesley saw Grace take a tranquilizer dart and stick it in the Pargo's neck, then dragged it to the sprinklers.

"The itty-bitty human thinks he can fight us," one of the vampires said, accompanying the words with an insane, evil laughter.

Wesley was in the zone. He attacked, parried, and feigned with an economy of movement. By the time Grace came back, he had dusted two of the five vampires. It was not enough. More shapes seemed to move in on them. They fought side by side, but the odds were against them.

"Are the girls done upstairs?" he asked.

His concentration wavered as he listened for her answer and one of the vamps managed to plunge his dagger in Wesley's shoulder. Wes put the stake through his heart before he even felt the pain.

"Almost. They still have two demons," Grace said. "One," she corrected after listening her earpiece.

"Tell them to come here now," he told Grace. "I'll go there and take care of the last one."

In a matter of seconds, Miranda and Eliana were running outside the house.

"He's on the second floor," Miranda told Wesley as he ran by her back inside.

He ran into the house and up the stairs, already light-headed from the blood loss. There had been several times when his opponents had managed to cut him, but he hadn't bothered to look. His shirt felt heavy, soaked in his own blood, and he could feel it trickle down on his pants and his boots. When he reached the upper floor all pain was forgotten as he faced the demon.

"If two Slayers couldn't handle me, you think you have a chance, old man? Let's see what you've got!"

Wesley's smile would've chilled the demon if it hadn't been hidden by the obscurity of the hallway. He started fencing the stronger and more agile creature with the weary moves of an exhausted fighter.

Gradually, Wesley deftly maneuvered the vampire toward the stairs, and gradually two floors down, to the training room, all the time careful to appear as every weak thrust of his sword might the last one, and every parry was just a matter of luck. He kept building the creature's self confidence until he was within a step from the open iron maiden.

"Good night," Wesley said, and kicked the vampire in the stomach.

The demon was so surprised by this unexpected show of force that he stumbled dumbly inside the torture device. Wesley closed the lid swiftly and locked it, smiling at the agonizing shrieks of the trapped demon.

Wesley went back out to check on the girls . He heard the sound of fighting coming from the kitchen and ran in. Miranda was in a corner trying to fend off two large demons. Through the kitchen window, he saw Grace and Eliana fighting a throng of vampires in the backyard. A third demon was tearing off the closet door, and reaching inside. Wesley heard noises from the closet, it sounded like Alex was trapped and couldn't run through the emergency exit. So that was why Miranda had run into the house. Wesley heard Alex's muffled yelp as the heavy demon caught him.

He had to choose who to help first. Or at all. Alex or Grace. An innocent little boy or a Slayer. He made the decision in an instant. He shoved his sword through the back of the Mohra demon that was attacking Miranda, just to get its attention. As soon as the warrior turned to face the new opponent, Wesley went straight for the jewel embedded on its forehead. He impaled himself on the demon's sword as he smashed it and Wesley's blood mingled with that pouring from the wound Wesley had just inflicted on it.

The demon dropped its sword and clutched at its forehead, as if trying to stop the reaction. Its body began splitting from the spot where the jewel had been, a bright red light came out from it, and soon there was nothing in its stead.

Grace had taken advantage of his arrival, and stabbed her remaining attacker, while Wesley looked at the demon holding Alex. He took the sword stained with his own blood that the Mohra demon had conveniently dropped on the sink, next to Wesley's hand.

He saw the monster's claw moving toward Alex's neck and swung the blade with all the force he had left. The head flew off the demon's neck, and its claw fell limp on the boy's shoulder. He saw Alex close his eyes and pull out of its dead grip while the dark blood gushed freely over him. He pulled the boy into his arms, and checked his neck for any marks of claws or teeth.

Alex wiped the blood off his eyes with the back of his hands and turned around to look at the still standing corpse. Blood was gushing from the severed neck when the heavy body finally hit the floor with an unsatisfactorily faint thump.

"Wow, Wesley, that was amazing!" Alex managed to say before the screeching of tires interrupted him.

Faith ran into the kitchen with a crazed look on her face. She pulled Alex out of Wesley's arms abruptly.

"Mom, did you see him? You should see him fight, mom! He took that guy's head clean off, and he dusted like a dozen vamps in the backyard."

Alex was squirming excitedly in Faith's arms while she was wiping away the thickening blood off his face and his neck, looking frantically for cuts. Wesley felt as if her fear was drowning him. His fearless Slayer had tasted fear. Wesley found himself regretting the wild, psychopathic Faith. He could afford to drive her hard, he could afford to lose her. But this Faith was different. This Faith was somebody's mother.

He was feeling sick. He had risked her son's life. He had calculated that the boy was less useful than a Slayer.

He turned his back to the scene, ignored Faith's eyes burning into his back, and just walked out of the kitchen. He made his way to the training room, where the demon was still howling from inside the iron maiden.

He heard someone running behind him, and soon Spike caught up with him.

"Where is it?" Spike asked.

"There's no one left. This one’s still alive because we need to know who sent them and why. Feeling up for a spot of torture and crumpets?"

"If there's some beer involved," Spike said with a grin.

"Did you get milk?" Wesley asked. Then rapping hard on the iron maiden, "Will you shut up and let us talk?" he addressed the demon.

"Yeah. We were getting out of the supermarket when Alex called. Got a box of Earl Grey for you. I know you're pining for the package you ordered from Fortnum and Mason, but you'll have to settle."

"Thank you."

"Shut the hell up! You'll have all the time to shout once we get you out. And word of advice, the more you move, the more it's going to hurt," Spike told the prisoner. "Denmons today," he said looking at Wesley.

"We should go check on the girls."

"You okay, mate? You look like you rolled around in blood. Don't tell me none of it is yours."

"Most of it is mine," Wesley answered, "but the Mohra bled on me. Its blood has regenerative properties."

"You're a lucky bastard, aren’t ya?" Spike slapped his shoulder, relief coming through in his tone.

Wesley didn't say anything. He was trying to think about anything except the choice he had made. It had worked out all right in the end, but he tried to avoid the question. What kind of man was he to choose a Slayer over an innocent boy? Had he forgotten that Slayers were expendable... No, he had not. He had thought about the big picture, and made a split second decision. It wasn't helping. He still felt like hell.

"So... how many were there?" Spike asked as they were climbing the stairs.

"I saw four on the roof when the alarm went off. And ten or so outside in the yard."

"A serious attack. We should really find out what they were looking for."

~~~~~~~~~

A couple of hours later, Wesley was tying the unlucky survivor to a chair when Faith walked into the office they had given him the first night back. He had made a habit of sleeping on the couch rather than going up to his room.

"You sure you wanna mess up your office?" Spike was asking. "I'm not all that clean when it comes to getting information, and blood is hell to get out of the carpet."

Faith sat down on the couch and watched them.

"Everyone all right?" Wesley asked without looking away from what he was doing.

"Yeah. All wounds dressed up, and they're all in bed. I made Alex sleep with the girls till we're done here."

Spike was smirking, and Wesley did his best to keep his face straight, perfectly able to picture the sort of things the vampire would say if it weren't for Faith.

"Wes," she called.

"Hmm?" he acknowledged her, still not looking up.

Faith put her hand on his arm.

"Wes," she demanded his attention. "Thank you," she said when he finally met her gaze.

'Faith, I'm a complete bastard. Don't trust me.'

He didn't say that.

"I did my best, Faith. And I'm a lucky bastard," he said.

Spike sniggered.

"Well, we're all done here. Let the fun start!" Spike said looking at their prisoner. "You hurt the girls. I hope you won't start talking soon."

Wesley felt his hair standing on end hearing Spike's chill tone. He remembered that the beer-loving, Slayer-shagging vampire had been able to beat Angel, kill two Slayers, survive the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and stand by Faith for a decade. They would get the information out of the wretched creature shivering in the chair.

Maybe there was a chance to avert another Apocalypse with one Slayer, one vampire and three teenagers. His high opinion of Faith's abilities had been irrevocably set by her performance in the days of the Beast. The girls had handled themselves pretty well tonight. His misgivings about the vampire were fading.


~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...