Summary: Ever wonder what happened to the baby that Spike saved from the Fell brethren?
Notes: written for the spuffy kink ficathon for pfeifferpack
Wes was sitting in a corner of the room when the door finally opened. Only instead of one of the demons it was a man that entered the room. About medium height, scruffy brown hair, a bit of stubble on his chin and bright blue eyes. There was a long red scar that went from one side of his neck to the other.
There was a shotgun in the man's hands. Wes quickly rolled under the bed, desperate to get away. Looking at him made Wes shiver, and the boy quickly turned his stare away to the floor, wishing that the bed hid him from sight, knowing full well that it didn't.
"I'm a friend"
Wes didn't believe him for a second, hoping to stay out of reach, hoping to find a chance to run.
Two of the demons came running into the room. The man turned to them without saying a word and just shot them in their knees, causing the demons to fall.
"Stay away from the holy vessel." one of the demons sputtered as he desperately tried to get up.
The man didn't listen. He kicked the bed out of the way and grabbed Wesley's arm before he could run. Wesley tried to kick him, but it was of no use.
"My name is Wesley Wyndham Pryce, liaison to the Senior Partners. I'm here to take the boy as collateral for the money you still owe us."
Wes stared at the dead demon – dead dead… not like dad and grandpa were dead – but really, truly dead.
None of the demons tried to stop them as Mister Pryce pushed him into the car and ordered a young blond woman to start driving.
Wes kept staring at him. "Are we going back to my dad?"
His question wasn't answered.
"Eve, bring us to Wolfram and Hart."
The woman stayed silent and steered the car to the left, following a path that Wes wasn't familiar with. Mister Pryce kept looking at him. Wes tried not to stare back.
"Please." Wes tried one more time. It didn't help.
"I'm sorry." Mister Pryce said.
Wes glared at him and crossed his arms, ignoring his captor for the rest of the trip and hoping for a way out as soon as they stopped. He knew it was hopeless as soon as they drove into the Wolfram and Hart building. Big white windows, everything practically screamed light and brightness at him.
Wes didn't even have to be pulled out of the car, he just followed. Mister Pryce entered an office and told him to sit down, giving him a coloring book and some pencils. What did they think he was? A kid?
It took him about half an hour before he opened it. He kept staring at Mister Pryce instead of the paper.
"I thought you were one of the good guys?" His words fell and shattered in the silence of the gigantic office.
"I was," Mister Pryce finally answered, "once upon a time."
He laid down his file. "Then I died."