Summary: Ever wonder what happened to the baby that Spike saved from the Fell brethren?
Notes: written for the spuffy kink ficathon for pfeifferpack
Wesley Burkle Bendis pouted for all he was worth. His little body shook with the force of his tears, ignoring both the toys in the room, the posters on the walls and the demon trying to cheer him up in front of him.
"I want my dad!" he screamed
The demon tried soft, gentle words, but Wesley wouldn't listen. They'd promised they'd take him home, to daddy, not here. Wherever here was. Finally his screaming had results and the demon left the room. Wesley quickly stopped crying and started looking at the door, desperate for a way out.
Of course, the way his luck was going, the door was locked.
There was a huge wrought iron frame over the window, beautifully made, but bars were bars, no matter how much the knots looked like roses.
"Bloody hell. Bollocks, Balls." He tried to use every single curse he'd ever heard his dad say, and it still didn't make him feel better.
Wesley kicked the door one last time for good measure, rattled the bars, and threw a few of the toys against the wall. He bent down to pick them up again for round two, when he overheard voices.
They were saying something – a word: Gordabach.
When he was little, his dad used to tell him the story of how he’d found him. How demons had taken him from his mom and how Dad had come in like a knight in shiny leather to save him. Dad said he'd known it from the first second that Wes was his, that they belonged together.
The word Gordabach had been part of that story, one of those background details dad liked to tell while he was getting into the fairytale. It meant sacrifice; that much he knew, and combined with his name, it was the last thing he ever wanted to hear.
The boy grabbed the sheet off the bed, keeping it at ready, before taking a small table and setting it up where he could use it. Then he screamed his little lungs out. He didn't even wait a second when the demons came running in, just kicked the bedside table at the first demon, threw the sheet over the second, and slipped in between them both while they were distracted.
Watch out world, Wes Burkle was ready to roll.
Not that the demons let him get far. In the end, the boy managed to escape for less than five minutes before they caught up with him. He was locked back in his room ten minutes later. They'd taken his comics for ‘disciplinary reasons’ and then they left him alone. Again.
He crossed his legs and sat there, unmoving. It took him over five minutes before he was fidgeting again.
"Please dad I need you."
He was crying in his pillow seconds later, this time for real. Even eight year old sons of vampires had their limits.