pro·logue

"Wes, go home. Go to bed. I mean it. You've been working day and night, and it's not that we don't appreciate it, but -"

"You want some time alone," Wes concluded, frowning. "Yes, quite. Please, just let me finish this passage and I'll be out of your hair."

Angel shook his head. "It's got nothing to do with alone time. You're welcome to stay here, hang out with us, but you have to promise not to touch the books and to get some actual sleep." Wes looked, frankly, like hell. He'd been pulling all-nighters almost every night for the last two weeks, and it seemed like the only sleep he did get was sitting at his desk, face down in a very old book. It couldn't be good for Wesley's back, and he was pretty sure sometimes Wes drooled, which couldn't be good for the books, either. And he thought it had been rough when Wes thought he was going to kill his son.

The concern in Angel's voice, and when Wesley looked up, finally, his face, took Wes by surprise. "You're not trying to get rid of me," he realized.

"Nope," Angel agreed. "Me and Connor were gonna go lay down and take a nap, but I'm not really sleepy. Maybe you could, I dunno, keep Connor company for me while I get some of the accounting for the agency squared away?"

~*~

"So this is it, huh?" Lorne asked, fingering the sheet of yellow legal paper with a look that was either anxious or impressed, or both. "This is the spell Wes came up with to, y'know, happy-proof you?"

Angel shrugged, hunched over notebooks filled with figures he hadn't been able to concentrate on since the green anagogic demon had walked into the office like he owned it ten minutes before. "I guess," he said, trying for nonchalant. "I'm trying not to crowd him - he's under enough pressure as it is."

"Hm," Lorne said thoughtfully. "Not as much as he would have been if he'd tried to make a run for it like he'd planned. I have to tell you, I much prefer 'sleep-deprived, five-minutes-from-going-'round-the-bend Wesley' to... well, let's just say it wouldn't have been pretty. How'd you get him to go to sleep?"

"Gave him a warm baby and put them both down in my bed," Angel smiled, remembering how his friend and his son had looked, sleeping peacefully. "Connor really likes him, and they both looked really happy. Wes was asleep in a heartbeat."

Lorne echoed Angel's smile - the big lug did it so infrequently, even now, that it was contagious when he did. There were a lot of things he could say to him, about how Wesley felt about Angel, even about how Wes felt about Connor, but none of those feelings were his to share. "Care to sing me a little song?" Lorne asked suddenly, and Angel looked up again, surprised.

"Huh?"

"Just a few bars. I've got a theory." Lorne cocked his head to the side. "How about Danny Boy?"

Angel narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his friend, but obliged him with the chorus. "Better?"

Lorne's smile became a grin. "Much. Tell Wes the spell is perfect as-is, and I said he should give it the go-ahead."

~*~

The orb exploded into a thousand shards, which thankfully evaporated into ash. Wes winced as he caught a faceful of black flecks, but when they didn't break the skin, he relaxed. A little. "It wasn't supposed to happen that way," he frowned, turning a perplexed look on Lorne. "You said it was perfect - what did I do wrong?"

Lorne smiled at Angel, who looked a little dazed. "Sing."

Angel shifted uncomfortably and then sighed, providing them with a few lines of "Drunken Sailor."

Lorne grinned and patted his arm, turning back to Wesley. "He's got a whole nostalgic for the mother country thing going on," he explained at Wesley's amused look in regards to Angel's choice of song. "Worked like a charm, Wes. Angelus has left the building. I don't know where you came up with this spell, cupcake, but it's almost like there was never an evil demonic influence there to begin with."

~*~

He came to in an unfamiliar room, high in an office building, overwhelmed by the scent of a woman he knew Angel hated, and perfume she had paid way too much for. It really brought him back, because it smelled just like that brothel in Naples with all the trannies. Now, trannies, they were fun - there weren't many things quite as amusing as unwrapping your whore to find a nifty little toy surprise. "You," he said, his voice casual, yet still laced with venom.

"Sometimes they just make my job too easy," Lilah Morgan chuckled, crossing her legs and giving her newest client a sultry smile. "What can I do for you today, Angelus?"