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Angel ficlet: "For What It's Worth"
Fandom: Angel
Length: 666 Words [!]
Spoilers: through "A Hole in the World" [Season 5]
Warnings: Heinous angst; Violence, but not gratuitous
Thanks to Betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
were_duck and sasha_feather
Bonus: Placebo song for which the fic is named.
Setting: A convenient AU in which Angel has become Angelus for the sake of the plot!
Angelus taunted him from the dark. Behind a crate or a pillar, surely. There are only so many places one can hide in a warehouse.
“Come on, Wes, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
Wesley rolled his eyes as he took the full gun clip out of his mouth, licking the taste of acidic metal off his lips. He winced; the space between his neck and shoulder leaked blood all over the place. His vision rolled in and out of focus in waves.
He stuck a full clip into the gun, and cocked it. Taking care not to let his hand go past the edge of the crate that shielded him, he tossed his empty clip out into the open, peered above the top of the box, and waited.
As soon as the clip hit the ground, Angelus’s head swung into view from behind a pillar. Wesley fired three times in rapid succession, holding the gun steady by bracing his arm against the top of the wooden crate. He ducked back down to look for a grenade; He needed to lure Angelus closer.
But there was no need for explosives. Angelus giggled, and started strolling toward him. “You know what I've always loved about you, Wes? You always use tools that are fucking useless to get what you want. Here you are, fighting a vampire – big, scary, oooohhhh – and you’re shooting at me with bullets. Not gonna work, Buddy.”
“Hmmm....ha, ha, ha…” the bastard vampire was still chuckling, delighted at his presumed idiocy.
Wesley was almost grateful when Angel became Angelus. He could hate him without feeling guilt-ridden about it.
“You know what must have sucked, Wesley? Being alone when you betrayed Angel. Nobody called you....nobody said, ‘It’s okay, Wesley, you did the right thing.’”
Wesley paused to reflect on this. Remembered Fred, breathless in his apartment, apologizing, and then closing the gap between them to lightly finger the bandages that swathed his throat, never knowing that a woman was bound on the floor of the closet not even ten feet from her, not knowing that Lilah had been there the night before last.
Fred, faking it so very well with Gunn and then begging Wesley to stay quiet – begging him even while fucking him. She was only ever there for him in secret, in the dark.
“And who’s here with you now? Did they all pick Angel over you again? You’re lucky Cordy’s not still alive. Well…Let’s be honest, we’re all lucky Cordelia’s not still alive.”
Wesley finished loading the clear bullets into his gun and smiled, wincing when the bruise left by Gunn swelled too much.
He stood now, drawing himself up fully, holding his wound shut with his left arm while aiming with his right.
Angelus always preferred blades to guns, so Wesley had nothing to fear, even from this short distance.
“Terribly sorry, Angelus,” he drawled. “It seems that Fred left me a message to give to you before she left.”
“Oh, Freddie, she’d have been good for a ride, now wouldn’t she?”
Wesley fired, straight to the dead heart, the neck, the face. The groin.
“I just TOLD you that these were useless,” he started, but then stopped to look down at the hissing smoke escaping from each bullet entry wound.
Illyria had smuggled the bullets into Wesley's bag before he had made his final decision. She had even known which gun was his favorite, had crafted the bullets filled with Holy Water appropriately.
Wesley turned and walked away from the vampire’s agonizing screams.
Outside, the air was warmer than it had been in the warehouse. Fucking California. He bent over and vomited quietly before shuffling a few steps further.
His fingers fumbled on the cell phone keypad.
“Illyria, it’s me. It’s finished. I need you to come get me; I’ve lost a lot....of blood.” He sank down on to the ground, balling his handkerchief and pressing it against the wound.
He was confident that she would be there soon.
Comments are welcome, although please be nice; I'm pretty new at this fanfiction business.
Length: 666 Words [!]
Spoilers: through "A Hole in the World" [Season 5]
Warnings: Heinous angst; Violence, but not gratuitous
Thanks to Betas:
were_duck and sasha_featherBonus: Placebo song for which the fic is named.
Setting: A convenient AU in which Angel has become Angelus for the sake of the plot!
Angelus taunted him from the dark. Behind a crate or a pillar, surely. There are only so many places one can hide in a warehouse.
“Come on, Wes, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
Wesley rolled his eyes as he took the full gun clip out of his mouth, licking the taste of acidic metal off his lips. He winced; the space between his neck and shoulder leaked blood all over the place. His vision rolled in and out of focus in waves.
He stuck a full clip into the gun, and cocked it. Taking care not to let his hand go past the edge of the crate that shielded him, he tossed his empty clip out into the open, peered above the top of the box, and waited.
As soon as the clip hit the ground, Angelus’s head swung into view from behind a pillar. Wesley fired three times in rapid succession, holding the gun steady by bracing his arm against the top of the wooden crate. He ducked back down to look for a grenade; He needed to lure Angelus closer.
But there was no need for explosives. Angelus giggled, and started strolling toward him. “You know what I've always loved about you, Wes? You always use tools that are fucking useless to get what you want. Here you are, fighting a vampire – big, scary, oooohhhh – and you’re shooting at me with bullets. Not gonna work, Buddy.”
“Hmmm....ha, ha, ha…” the bastard vampire was still chuckling, delighted at his presumed idiocy.
Wesley was almost grateful when Angel became Angelus. He could hate him without feeling guilt-ridden about it.
“You know what must have sucked, Wesley? Being alone when you betrayed Angel. Nobody called you....nobody said, ‘It’s okay, Wesley, you did the right thing.’”
Wesley paused to reflect on this. Remembered Fred, breathless in his apartment, apologizing, and then closing the gap between them to lightly finger the bandages that swathed his throat, never knowing that a woman was bound on the floor of the closet not even ten feet from her, not knowing that Lilah had been there the night before last.
Fred, faking it so very well with Gunn and then begging Wesley to stay quiet – begging him even while fucking him. She was only ever there for him in secret, in the dark.
“And who’s here with you now? Did they all pick Angel over you again? You’re lucky Cordy’s not still alive. Well…Let’s be honest, we’re all lucky Cordelia’s not still alive.”
Wesley finished loading the clear bullets into his gun and smiled, wincing when the bruise left by Gunn swelled too much.
He stood now, drawing himself up fully, holding his wound shut with his left arm while aiming with his right.
Angelus always preferred blades to guns, so Wesley had nothing to fear, even from this short distance.
“Terribly sorry, Angelus,” he drawled. “It seems that Fred left me a message to give to you before she left.”
“Oh, Freddie, she’d have been good for a ride, now wouldn’t she?”
Wesley fired, straight to the dead heart, the neck, the face. The groin.
“I just TOLD you that these were useless,” he started, but then stopped to look down at the hissing smoke escaping from each bullet entry wound.
Illyria had smuggled the bullets into Wesley's bag before he had made his final decision. She had even known which gun was his favorite, had crafted the bullets filled with Holy Water appropriately.
Wesley turned and walked away from the vampire’s agonizing screams.
Outside, the air was warmer than it had been in the warehouse. Fucking California. He bent over and vomited quietly before shuffling a few steps further.
His fingers fumbled on the cell phone keypad.
“Illyria, it’s me. It’s finished. I need you to come get me; I’ve lost a lot....of blood.” He sank down on to the ground, balling his handkerchief and pressing it against the wound.
He was confident that she would be there soon.
Comments are welcome, although please be nice; I'm pretty new at this fanfiction business.
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The show Angel is similar to Buffy in ways (obviously), but it's generally darker in tone.
Thank you for reading, especially since you're unfamiliar with the fandom!
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