Home / Fan Fiction / Angel / Epiphany / I-10 to I-75

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

I-10 to I-75
by The Brat Queen

Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.

Rated: R

Summary: Wes and Angel hit the road. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "Drifting")

Thanks to: Wolfling for the beta read.

"Oh dear," Wesley said as he saw three vampires step out of the near-darkness that surrounded the gas station and its artificial lights. Behind him he heard the bathroom door shut with a snick that told him he wouldn't be getting back inside again without one of the patron tokens.

He could get one of the tokens by going around the building, entering the little store, and requesting one.

However, he held doubts that the vampires would be so accommodating as to get out of his way.

"My," Wesley said, meeting each set of gold eyes in turn. "This is embarrassing, isn't it?"

They advanced. He retreated by taking a step back and to the right. Pressing himself up against a solid brick building wasn't the most ideal survival strategy, but he had hopes he could perhaps duck his way through their flanks and back into the welcoming lights by the pumps.

"You see," he continued, blatantly attempting to distract them, "I hunt your kind for a living. Which I agree might not be the best thing to mention now when you already wish to kill me - "

A dark-haired one on the left lunged forward. Wesley quickly dove down and silently thanked Gunn for insisting on all the embarrassing squat-thrusts. He came up on the other side of them, but unfortunately not on a side which provided freedom. It did, however, get him into the L that was the gas station's connection with a chain-link fence that protected their dumpsters. He wondered if he could get over the fence and acquire some kind of weapon before the vampires could stop him.

He doubted it, but he wondered all the same.

"Which is why this is so ironic," he continued, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture and continuing to back away slowly. He could tell his outward buffoonery was amusing them, which was fine. If they were laughing they weren't eating. "I mean here I am, a vampire hunter, and here you are being vampires, and while you're perfectly prepared to do what comes naturally I, on the other hand, have left my bloody weapons in the car."

"Dibs on the neck," the middle vampire said.

"I don't get a say in the matter?" Wesley asked.

Lips parted to reveal a particularly ugly expression which Wesley supposed was meant to be a smile. "No."

"What about a word, then?" Wesley asked, then before they could reply opened his mouth to shout "Ang - "

"Ow!" the middle vampire screamed as he turned to dust. Angel calmly regarded the two vampires that remained.

"What?" he asked, twirling the stake in his right hand as his left flicked out and brought another ratcheting into its place. "'Ow' is a word. Now which one of you am I killing next?"

The remaining vampires locked eyes, then bolted.

Angel was on them in a flash. A blur of motion produced a stake which flew through the air and landed into the dark-haired one.

The one of a somewhat lighter complexion ran faster, but Angel quickly caught up with him and knocked him into the ground.

"I should make you apologize," Angel said.

"For stealing your dinner?" the other vampire scoffed.

Angel's face shifted, then transformed into its own demonic visage. "He's not my dinner," he said, bringing the second stake up for a killing blow. "He's mine."

"What the - " the prone vampire started, then stopped as his vocal cords and the rest of his body turned into dust.

Wesley watched this, and took in the words. He walked over, carefully looking around to make sure that they truly were alone at last. "Angel, I - "

"This is a stake," Angel said, turning around and speaking over him. He held up the weapon in his hand as though giving a demonstration. "It's a very sharp piece of wood that kills vampires. If you see somebody that looks like me, you use it on them."

Angel threw the stake at him. Wesley caught it, then hurried to catch up with Angel as he stalked back towards the car.

"I was only going to the loo," Wesley said. "How was I supposed to - "

"Where's your fucking gun?" Angel asked. He dropped his game face and pulled his keys out of his coat pocket.

"In the car," Wesley admitted.

"Fat lot of good it does you there," Angel said. He jerked open the passenger door and motioned for Wesley to get in.

Wesley stopped and stood his ground. "It was an honest mistake."

"Honest mistakes get you dead," Angel told him.

"I'm well aware of that," Wesley replied.

Angel's hand twitched on the door. "Just don't do it again," he said.

"I can promise not to go about weaponless," Wesley said. "However I don't think I can swear to never again use the toilet."

This earned him a hint of a smile. "I dunno. You can be pretty stubborn."

"Yes," Wesley agreed, finally getting into the car, "but I use it all up on you."

"Guess we have something in common," Angel said. He closed Wesley's door for him then went around to get in the driver's seat. Before Wesley could ask him what he'd meant by that, Angel thrust a cup at him. "Here. Got you some coffee."

"That's really not going to help with our lavatory problem," Wesley said, but indicated his gratitude before giving him a wistful look. "I don't suppose they had any - "

Wordlessly, Angel handed over a bag of Skittles.

"I may have fallen in love with you all over again," Wesley declared. He tore the bag open, settled down comfortably, and began to eat.

Angel pulled out of the gas station and followed the signs to the highway. "Miami?"

"Yes," Wesley confirmed. "Did you get any maps?"

Angel gave Wesley a look which indicated that he shouldn't be daft.

"Of course not," Wesley asked, looking up at the ceiling of the car as though it might provide the answer. "What on earth was I thinking?"

"I was gonna ask," Angel said. He moved the car over to the fast lane. "After that I was thinking maybe Virginia."

Wesley quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Angel smirked.

"What?" Wesley asked.

"I know that 'oh'," Angel said. "It's the 'I'm not actually gonna say it but boy am I thinking it loud' oh."

Out of revenge, Wesley offered him some of his candy. Angel turned it down. "Fine," Wesley said. "What am I thinking then?"

"That I wanna go because of Darla," Angel said.

"Would I be wrong?" Wesley asked.

Angel gave a half-shrug. "I dunno. I mean not like I'm planning on running into her there or anything. I just - I've been thinking a lot."

"Understandable," Wesley said. He swallowed some coffee and let it warm him. The car was surprisingly cool, given their location. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Do I have to?" Angel replied.

"At some point we should," Wesley said, "but it need not be now."

"I may have fallen in love with you all over again," Angel said. "Seriously."

"Lucky me," Wesley said. He sat up and motioned towards the radio. "Music?"

"Okay," Angel said. "There's tapes in the glove box too."

"I'll keep it in mind," Wesley turned the radio on, then adjusted the dials to find a station. Strains of 'Wonderwall' came from the speakers. "Oh, excellent."

Angel gave him a dubious look. "This is excellent?"

"It's Oasis," Wesley told him. He sat back and hummed along.

"You know a name like that suggests relief of some sort," Angel observed.

Wesley folded up the remains of his candy and put the mostly full bag into his coat pocket. "You don't like them?"

"I'm not saying that," Angel said. "I'm just saying - don't you think they're a little whiny?"

"They're a perfectly fine group!" Wesley said.

Angel gave him a look again. "Uh-huh."

"Many thought them to be the new Beatles when they came out," Wesley told him.

"Many thought the old Beatles weren't that hot shit the first time around," Angel pointed out.

Wesley blinked. "Really?"

"Can you honestly see me enjoying Yellow Submarine?" Angel asked.

"Well... no," Wesley admitted.

"This would be my point," Angel said. He changed lanes long enough to pass a slower-moving car.

"I'll find something else," Wesley said, adjusting the dial again.

"I appreciate that," Angel said.

A few turns of the dial brought another song Wesley enjoyed. He gave Angel a questioning look.

"What is it?" Angel asked.

"Michael Jackson's latest," Wesley told him. "From the new album."

"Ah," Angel said.

Wesley frowned at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"You're gonna take it the wrong way," Angel said.

"You could find another way to phrase it," Wesley told him.

"I don't think there's a nice way to say even I know Michael Jackson isn't cool anymore," Angel replied.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with you there," Wesley said. "Just as there isn't a nice way for me to remind you that it's likewise not precisely debonair to listen to - " Wesley flipped open the glove box and pulled out tapes, dropping them on the seat between them " - John Denver, ABBA, Michael Crawford's Latest Hits and - dear God, is this a boy band?"

"Very funny," Angel said, picking up the tapes and tossing them into the backseat.

Wesley examined the glove box further. "I mean you listen to Billy Joel for Heaven's sake!"

"What's wrong with Billy Joel?"

"What isn't?"

"He's the Piano Man!" Angel said, gesturing in front of him as though that somehow proved his point.

"Self-proclaimed, I'd like to point out," Wesley said.

"Well it's no King of Pop, I guess," Angel retorted. "But Billy Joel is a classic."

"That's one way of phrasing it," Wesley said. "Much as you are a classic and actual physical evidence of Homo habilis is a classic."

"You're saying I have old taste in music?" Angel asked.

"I'm implying it, yes," Wesley said.

"You know people who listen to Glenn Miller albums shouldn't throw stones."

"Glenn Miller is a clas - oh go to Hell."

Angel chuckled.

"We could try having a conversation," Wesley said.

"Is that a suggestion or a threat?" Angel asked.

"Possibly both," Wesley admitted. "But it needn't be about the relationship. You know there are many things that you and I never talk about."

Angel drove on, clearly mulling this over. "You mean in the we don't normally talk about aliens sense or in the there's some stuff that you and I don't talk about sense?"

Wesley took a measure of pride in being able to translate that. "Either. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Angel flicked a glance at him. "This an offer?"

Wesley decided he might as well set an example. "Yes."

This time the glance was longer. "Because there's stuff I could ask you - "

"Go ahead," Wesley said, giving a gesture of invitation.

Angel thought about it for a few miles. "Ever miss Sarah?"

"I think of her from time to time," Wesley said. "I imagine that's only to be expected."

Angel shook his head. "Weird."

Wesley looked at him quizzically. "What? You don't think I should?"

"What?" Angel said. "Oh - no. Nah. Not that. Just - her. You and her. Weird."

"I see," Wesley said.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Angel asked.

Wesley shrugged. "I didn't think it was important."

"You were nearly married and that's not important?" Angel asked. "To the guy you're fucking, this is not an important detail?"

"Actually married, perhaps," Wesley said. "But nearly? I can't see how that factors into anything."

"You proposed," Angel said. "You loved her enough to propose."

"It's in the past," Wesley said. "Hardly matters. It's certainly not interesting."

"You're interested in my past," Angel pointed out.

"Because your past is interesting," Wesley replied. "Mine is rather mundane."

Angel's eyes held an inexplicable expression. "To you, maybe."

"I lived it," Wesley said. "That puts me in a good position to judge, don't you think?"

"I wanna be the judge for myself," Angel said. "Tell me about you. What other stuff are you hiding from me?"

"I'm not hiding anything," Wesley protested. "I'm only attempting not to bore you."

"Trust me, I'll yell if I'm bored," Angel said. "C'mon - start at the beginning and work your way to the top."

"What, in order?" Wesley teased. "That's going to make the first nine months of narrative a bit on the repetitive side."

"Bounce around then," Angel said. "Hit the important details. It's just - I'm not the only stoic guy around here, Wes, and I swear to you I've got no idea why."

"I wasn't aware I was being stoic about my past," Wesley said.

Angel met his eyes. "There's some stuff you don't talk about."

Wesley nodded, unable to hold the gaze for long. "Perhaps."

"I'm not trying to hurt you," Angel said. "I mean it - this hurts you in any way tell me and I'll shut the fuck up. But - you say you wanna talk. Okay. I wanna listen."

"Will you do it in turn?" Wesley asked, more out of curiosity than any sort of challenge.

"Yeah," Angel said. "Okay, yeah. Sure."

Wesley chortled. "That sounded convincing."

"You want convincing?" Angel asked. "Fine - Liam. That's convincing."

Wesley blinked. "What?"

"My name," Angel said, glancing back and forth between Wesley and the road, "before I was turned. Liam."

Wesley rolled the word over in his mind, trying to get a feel for it. "I see."

"I put my money where my mouth is," Angel said.

Wesley studied him. "May I say something?"

Angel shrugged. "Sure."

"It doesn't suit you."

For some reason this made Angel break out in a big smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Wesley said, then emphasized the next word with two slow syllables. "Angel."

Angel flashed him a quick grin.

"Percival," Wesley said, after a few more miles had passed.

"Huh?"

"My middle name," Wesley told him.

"Really?" Angel asked.

Wesley nodded.

Angel thought about it. "Can I say something?"

Wesley motioned for him to go right ahead.

"Your family really hates you."

Wesley gave a surprised bark of laughter. "I can't argue with you there."

"I mean - the Hell?" Angel shook his head, giving Wes a look of sympathy. "Lemme guess - distant uncle?"

"Great grandfather," Wesley explained. "On mum's side."

"Lucky you," Angel said. "Man. Well that's a secret I'll take to my grave."

"I appreciate that," Wesley told him.

"Yeah, well," Angel seemed unphased by the concept "I like protecting you."

"I've noticed," Wesley said. He watched the scenery go by, then ventured forth. "I was 7."

Angel listened, clearly not understanding, but willing to wait to find out.

"The thing you never ask me about," Wesley said, "but which I know you always want to ask me about."

There was a moment, and then Angel's jaw tightened. "Staircase."

"Precisely," Wesley confirmed. "I was 7 years old."

"What happened?" Angel asked.

"I'd seen my first demon and I'd been scared," Wesley told him. "A Grav'nk."

"Those can be scary," Angel said.

"I suppose," Wesley said. "However, Father told me the Council wouldn't allow such a nancy into the ranks and said I had to learn how not to be frightened. So he locked me under the basement staircase for hours so I wouldn't be afraid of the dark."

"Uh-huh," Angel said. His voice had grown quiet. "Were you?"

"No more than any child, I suppose," Wes said. "I didn't sleep with a light on, but basements can be rather intimidating when you're small. I sat down there quietly for hours, trying to prove to him that I wouldn't disappoint him and make a peep. He didn't care. One of the servants came and got me. Even scolded me for playing where I wasn't supposed to. I tried to ask Father later if I'd done well but he struck me and told me not to bother him. I never mentioned it again."

"Do you have any idea," Angel asked, with an eerie lack of emotion in his words, "how much I want to hurt him?"

"I suspect it, yes," Wesley said.

"Not kill," Angel continued. "Because death - death means it's over. Hurt can go on a long, long time."

"Does that scare you?" Wesley asked. "Wanting that?"

"No," Angel said at once. "It scares me that it doesn't scare me."

"That's what this is about, isn't it?" Wesley indicated the car. "The running away."

"Part of it," Angel agreed.

When nothing more was forthcoming, Wesley said "Do you have any idea how much I want you to, sometimes? How it's almost like a dream to me, to think of you hurting him like that?"

Angel gave a small nod. "Yeah," he said. "And that would be the other part."

Fin.