chap·ter·four

"Angel? I need you to meet me at my apartment building. It's urgent." Wesley's voice was soft, but strained.

"Oh, god," Angel choked. "Is it Connor? Is he okay? What happened?"

Wes closed his eyes tightly. "Nothing, yet. Please, I need you to meet me here right away, Angel. And you mustn't bring anyone with you."

Angel nodded, which was ridiculous, because Wes couldn't see him. "On my way." He hung up the phone and frowned at it.

"What's up?" Gunn asked. "You looked like you were gonna have a coronary for a second there. Which woulda been one for the record books, 'cause last I knew you weren't exactly the picture of cardiac health."

"Is Connor all right?" Fred added. "You sounded worried."

"He's fine," Angel replied, grabbing his sword from the cabinet. "Connor's fine, but I think Wes is in trouble."

"You're not kidding," Lorne said, and everyone turned to see him standing in the doorway to the office, clutching his head. He was bleeding. "He's in over his head, Angel, and if he's calling you it means one of two things. Either he's figured out he needs you, or it's a trap."

~*~

Wes looked astonished when he opened the door to see Angel standing there. "It's you," he said, eyes wide. "You're here."

"You called me, Wes. Is everything okay?" Angel walked into the apartment and looked around. Next to Connor's carrier and Connor's overnight bag, there were two duffels - one small and one mid-sized - and a small cooler. "What is all this?"

"We have to leave." There was nothing in his tone to brook argument. Angel found himself shouldering the diaper bag before he even thought to ask why.

"Wes, stop," he said, stooping to pick up one of the duffels and the cooler. "You've got to tell me what's going on."

Wesley hadn't even paused in his pacing; he was nearly manic. "I trust you," he said finally. "I know you won't hurt him, but I need to be sure. I could send you both away, but you wouldn't go, and if I left with Connor you'd hate me for the rest of my life, which would undoubtedly be cut drastically short, probably by your hands around my throat or your knife in my gut. I need more time. I need time to prove it wrong, because I know you, I know you'd never hurt him, Angel, you must believe me."

"I believe you," Angel replied, not missing a beat. "But you still haven't told me what's going on."

~*~

"So he's taking off with Connor? Just like that, doesn't tell us anything about it?" Gunn frowned. "Man, I thought we were friends."

"Don't take it personally," Lorne tutted. "I'm not, and I'm the one with a face full of reasons I probably ought to. Thanks, pumpkin," he smiled at Fred as she handed him a bag of frozen peas to hold against the swelling lump on his head. "There's a whole lot going on inside that big brain of his, and I got a pretty sizeable peek at it - ain't none of it pretty."

"He didn't trust us enough to tell us what was going on, though?" Fred pointed out. "We're family!"

"Yeah, and which one of you was available for quality shoulder-to-lean-on time, exactly? 'Cause I'm seeing two people who've had exactly zero time for Wes and anything he's got to say lately, acting an awful lot like they think they're eligible for Pal of the Year. Gunn, whatever happened to - and excuse the phrase, here, Freddikins - bros before hos?"

Gunn blinked. "It's different now," he said, simply.

Lorne nodded sympathetically. "It always is. And Fred, munchkin, when was the last time you and Wesley sat down and had one of your meetings of the minds?"

"I -" Fred began and then pursed her lips. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

"'Course you're not," Lorne agreed. "That's probably good, though, because we've got company."

~*~

"So Holtz told you to take Connor and get gone?" Angel frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I've tried to rationalize it; he must be planning an ambush."

"Or two," Angel replied, nodding his head at a figure approaching them. "Take Connor, get in the car. If things go bad, I want you to drive as far away as possible. Don't stop, and don't look back."

"He didn't keep his word," Justine said, looking up. She was horrified to find herself looking into the face of the very vampire Holtz had sworn to kill. "You're not supposed to be - what are you doing here?"

"Just following orders," Justine said, raising her palms. He noticed the flash of a concealed blade. "I'm here for the kid."

"You're not getting him." Angel's fist collided with Justine's face with a satisfying crack, and she went down as though she'd been weighted. He climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV. "You and me against the world, Wes. Let's go."

~*~

They'd driven all night only to double back the next evening after calling the hotel and getting an earful about the ambush-that-might-have-been. Holtz and his men had put in an appearance, but no one had been hurt. Yet. Holtz didn't seem happy that Wes had betrayed him, and neither did Fred and Gunn. Lorne, for his part, was glad that things ended as harmlessly as they had, even if he did come out of it with a shiner the size of Silver Lake.

They learned about the prophecy, and while Fred and Gunn resented Wesley more and more, Angel found himself trusting him, respecting him. This was one person who was possibly as concerned about his son's welfare as he himself was, and you couldn't have too many of those around. He'd been in a really difficult position, and nothing he could have done would have been the right answer, no matter what. That was Wes - he made the tough decisions no one else wanted to make, no matter what the personal cost.

Wes valued all other lives above his own. Then, it had been Connor's, and now it was Fred's, even after the horrible way she and Gunn had treated him since the kidnapping near-miss. Now he was being held hostage by Angel's psychopathic demon side made corporeal, and Angel was standing in his bathroom at the hotel, staring in shock at the reflection in his mirror and freaking out. This was not happening.

He could maybe take Angelus, if they were on equal footing, identical physical bodies with the same limitations and weaknesses. That was a slim maybe, because Angelus was a sneaky bastard, but now...

Angel laid two fingers on his throat, mesmerized by the steady thrum of his pulse. Wes was a dead man.

A knock on the door startled him from his reverie. "So, Mr. Champion, you coming out of the bathroom any time soon?" Cordelia asked, pushing the door open a crack. "'Cause I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we're kind of in the middle of a big freaking emergency situation here, and now is not the time to - oh."

Angel winced at the surprise and disappointment in her voice. She'd seen his reflection. "Yeah," he replied softly. "It gets better. Or, worse, if you're Wes waiting for a hero." He took her hand and placed it on his wrist. "Cordy, what the hell am I gonna do?" He'd been all set to head in and take Angelus on, too distracted by the urgency of the situation to even realize his own weakness, when he'd come upon Fred laying in the street, bleeding and unconscious. If he hadn't brought her back to safety, he might have gone running headlong into trouble and he and Wes would be joining Gunn on the casualties list. It was still a distinct possibility.

"First you better dig your head out of your ass," Cordelia said with a mild glare. "Then I'd suggest finding a really big, sharp piece of wood, because we've got some business to take care of here."

"Cordy, I can't take Angelus. Not like this. I'm not a champion, I'm just some guy," Angel protested.

"Funny," Cordy retorted, hands on her hips. "Last time I checked, Wes was just some guy, too, but that didn't stop him from going in after Fred, and he's not even in love with her."

Angel pouted for a moment before his eyebrows shot up past his hairline. "I'm not - he what?"