Angel, 1.19, Sanctuary
"What? It doesn't end there!"
Cordelia took the book away, causing Wesley's pen to scratch loudly across one of the pages. "Yes, it does," he huffed, "now, if you please --"
She turned a few pages before placing the diary back on the desk. " 'And then Faith went to jail. The end.' Please. Even you could think of a better ending. And this Watcher gig? Lifetime thing, Wes."
"I suppose... the beginning of a new chapter..." With a straightedge, he meticulously removed the last written page, the scratch of ink, and the immature 'finis.'
Wesley started writing again.
Angel, 5.7, Lineage
"It's not the end," Wesley murmured, fingers moving carefully over Giles' cheek, "but I do need to leave. For now."
"Don't..." The words were both too difficult and useless. They'd had the discussion before, Giles needed Wesley, the Council needed Wesley, but Angel seemed to need him more.
Wesley placed a stack of papers, important documents, letters and a few books on Giles' desk. "Save these for me, for when I come home. Don't forget."
"I shan't..." Giles kissed Wesley once, then again, harder and longer. He didn't want to think why else Wesley would leave his records and diary.
Angel 5.22, Not Fade Away
Finis.
Something inside Giles twisted painfully as he put down his pen. It couldn't end that way – there were still too many questions. What would happen to his slayer? And what about the council – surely, he would have assisted the reformation of the Watchers' Council? He should have. He should have come home again.
The tight knot of sorrow didn't loosen when Giles closed the book. Because he feared it never would, he stood up and with slow hands placed the book on a shelf, between volumes two and three of his own, the watcher's diary of Wesley Wyndam Pryce.
And something 'shippy & domestic to ease the angst...
Rupert sat down on the sofa heavily, jostling Wesley from the doze he had fallen into. He had a sad, disappointed look on his face as he handed Wesley a cup of tea and sighed quietly before taking a sip of his own.
The tea was fine, good, strong and hot, so that couldn't be the problem. "What's wrong? Somebody call while I was sleeping?"
"No. It's just..." Another little sigh. "We finished the jaffa cakes."
"We? Those are your favorite. I hardly even get a chance to touch them." Wesley laughed, then kissed Rupert's shoulder. "I'll buy you more."
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