FIC: Play It Again, Sam, for nevcolleil, Wes [AtS]
Title: Play It Again, Sam
Author: houses
Fandom: Angel the Series, nod to Highlander
Characters: Wesley, Cordy, Gunn
Timeline: the end of Thin Dead Line. In case it’s been a while since people have seen that episode, it takes place right after Angel has fired the three of them and they’re searching for a new name for their business. Wesly has just been gut-shot and things are rather falling apart though through it all, Cordy, Wes and Gunn are learning what it means to become each other’s family.
Pairings: None
Genre: Humor
Rating: G
Notes: For nevcolleil for the_fund; NOT associated with Encore Une Fois universe.
Word Count: 991
Surprisingly, dying wasn’t nearly as awkward as Wesley had expected.
In his albeit limited experience gut-shot usually equaled dead as a doornail and his little trip up that creek completely paddle-less was no exception. He let go of his lingering life with a gentle sigh on the backseat of a stolen vehicle. And woke up on a very hard concrete floor wondering what the hell just happened.
Coming back to life, he realized, was decidedly awkward.
First there was the moment of ‘oh, neat, I’m breathing again.’ This was rapidly followed by ‘oh, shit, I’m breathing again!’ He cautiously sat up, poking at his stomach where he expected a large, leaking bullet hole to be. No bullet, no hole, though there was a rather messy stained hole in his shirt.
He could hear Cordelia doing an impressively convincing death dirge in the other room and realized he was in the records room for the newly re-invented Angel Investigations. Feeling a little woozy, he wobbled his way to what passed for the lobby.
“Er, hello,” he managed, swaying as he stood.
“Wesley! You’re dead!” Cordelia exclaimed, diving for the cross in her purse. “Back, fiend of hell!”
Gunn leapt off the couch, axe in hand, but blinked in surprise when Cordy smacked Wesley’s bare arm with her cross and nothing happened. No smoke, no screaming.
Wes, still feeling a little groggy, could only manage, “Oh. That’s nice. What time is it?”
Cordy and Gunn exchanged glances and put their weapons down. They watched Wes blink a few times and pull at his shirt as if surprised it was still bloody and messy. The former watcher heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes before giving them a rather impressive lost-puppy look. Sad eyes, pouty lips, scruffy face. It was decidedly pathetic.
Gunn gave in first and shook his head. “You don’t look all that dangerous, but Wes, you’re dead, man,” Gunn said, striding over and gingerly poking at Wesley’s stomach.
“I know. It’s rather unusual, this walking around isn’t it?” Wes slumped to the seat behind the desk when Gunn and Cordy were finished examining the lack-of-wound on his stomach.
“Maybe this is just a hallucination or something?” he said hopefully. He waved his fingers in front of his face a few times before giving up, defeated.
“Unless someone drugged us too when we weren’t looking, I’d say this is for real.” Gunn crossed his arms and said, “You think we should let Angel know? I mean, this is sort of…unusual.”
Cordy snapped, “No. He abandoned us; he doesn’t deserve to know.”
She glanced at the darkened window out to the street. “But this is really more his sort of thing, you know, the not-dead dead person.”
“Quite,” added Wesley, picking up a slim letter opener from the desk. “I wonder…”
Cordy and Gunn watched in horror as Wes plunged the knife into the back of his hand, sticking it to the wooden desk.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” he squeaked, gasping.
Cordy yelped as Gunn wrenched the knife from Wesley with a few choice curses.
“Are you crazy?! Maybe you are hallucinating!” Cordy grabbed the injured hand and scrabbled around in the desk drawer for a bandage.
“I’m not crazy! Well, not mostly, I think. Look!” Wes urged, nodding at the back of his hand. Blue sparks were arcing from the tears in his skin, little snippets of electricity tracing the outline of the blade wound.
“It’s…healing.” Gunn leaned over to get a closer look and hissed when one of the blue streaks sizzled onto his leg. “What’s going on?”
“I remembered something they talked about in the Watcher’s Council. Well, no one really talked about it. There was a legend about some rogue watchers that wandered off on their own a thousand years ago or so. The tales mention that before they left they said they wanted to keep an eye on the Immortal Ones, humans that had the power of the storm under their skin. They supposedly healed from all wounds. We always dismissed it as poppycock, just tales the junior Watchers told each other. No one wanted the elders to catch us talking about them.”
Everyone looked at the now disappeared hole in his hand. The skin was smooth and flawless as if the stabbing had never occurred.
“I guess there’s some truth to it,” Wesley murmured, turning his palm up and tracing his finger down the lifeline.
“So, Super!Wes, is this new skill a forever kind of thing? Should we haul your dead ass back here next time you do something stupid like get shot and just sit around waiting for you to wake up?” Cordy glared and put her hands on her hips. “Cause, really, that would be so depressing.”
Gunn picked up the letter opener and squinted at it, as if it had been playing tricks on them. “And what kills you? I mean, something kills everything. Nothing lives forever.”
“No, nothing’s permanent, but I can’t remember how they -- I -- can be killed.” Wes shrugged then smiled brightly, “A new project.”
“But we still won’t get paid for it! Bookworm,” Cordy teased, the hostility in her eyes softening. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Wes. Well, not deader anyway.”
“Me too, man, me too,” Gunn said, clapping the new Immortal on the shoulder.
“You know what this calls for, don’t you?” chirped Cordelia. “A drink.”
“Or six,” added Wes, sliding out of his bloody shirt and into a sweater from a bag behind the desk. “Maybe a dozen. Being dead makes you awfully thirsty, you know.”
He examined his hand again and added, almost as an afterthought, “We could call us Immortal, Inc. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
As Gunn shut the door behind the trio, he and Cordy chorused, “No way.”
Wes muttered, “Worth a try anyway,” and wandered off with his family in search of a very stiff drink.
~~~The End~~~
Author: houses
Fandom: Angel the Series, nod to Highlander
Characters: Wesley, Cordy, Gunn
Timeline: the end of Thin Dead Line. In case it’s been a while since people have seen that episode, it takes place right after Angel has fired the three of them and they’re searching for a new name for their business. Wesly has just been gut-shot and things are rather falling apart though through it all, Cordy, Wes and Gunn are learning what it means to become each other’s family.
Pairings: None
Genre: Humor
Rating: G
Notes: For nevcolleil for the_fund; NOT associated with Encore Une Fois universe.
Word Count: 991
Surprisingly, dying wasn’t nearly as awkward as Wesley had expected.
In his albeit limited experience gut-shot usually equaled dead as a doornail and his little trip up that creek completely paddle-less was no exception. He let go of his lingering life with a gentle sigh on the backseat of a stolen vehicle. And woke up on a very hard concrete floor wondering what the hell just happened.
Coming back to life, he realized, was decidedly awkward.
First there was the moment of ‘oh, neat, I’m breathing again.’ This was rapidly followed by ‘oh, shit, I’m breathing again!’ He cautiously sat up, poking at his stomach where he expected a large, leaking bullet hole to be. No bullet, no hole, though there was a rather messy stained hole in his shirt.
He could hear Cordelia doing an impressively convincing death dirge in the other room and realized he was in the records room for the newly re-invented Angel Investigations. Feeling a little woozy, he wobbled his way to what passed for the lobby.
“Er, hello,” he managed, swaying as he stood.
“Wesley! You’re dead!” Cordelia exclaimed, diving for the cross in her purse. “Back, fiend of hell!”
Gunn leapt off the couch, axe in hand, but blinked in surprise when Cordy smacked Wesley’s bare arm with her cross and nothing happened. No smoke, no screaming.
Wes, still feeling a little groggy, could only manage, “Oh. That’s nice. What time is it?”
Cordy and Gunn exchanged glances and put their weapons down. They watched Wes blink a few times and pull at his shirt as if surprised it was still bloody and messy. The former watcher heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes before giving them a rather impressive lost-puppy look. Sad eyes, pouty lips, scruffy face. It was decidedly pathetic.
Gunn gave in first and shook his head. “You don’t look all that dangerous, but Wes, you’re dead, man,” Gunn said, striding over and gingerly poking at Wesley’s stomach.
“I know. It’s rather unusual, this walking around isn’t it?” Wes slumped to the seat behind the desk when Gunn and Cordy were finished examining the lack-of-wound on his stomach.
“Maybe this is just a hallucination or something?” he said hopefully. He waved his fingers in front of his face a few times before giving up, defeated.
“Unless someone drugged us too when we weren’t looking, I’d say this is for real.” Gunn crossed his arms and said, “You think we should let Angel know? I mean, this is sort of…unusual.”
Cordy snapped, “No. He abandoned us; he doesn’t deserve to know.”
She glanced at the darkened window out to the street. “But this is really more his sort of thing, you know, the not-dead dead person.”
“Quite,” added Wesley, picking up a slim letter opener from the desk. “I wonder…”
Cordy and Gunn watched in horror as Wes plunged the knife into the back of his hand, sticking it to the wooden desk.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” he squeaked, gasping.
Cordy yelped as Gunn wrenched the knife from Wesley with a few choice curses.
“Are you crazy?! Maybe you are hallucinating!” Cordy grabbed the injured hand and scrabbled around in the desk drawer for a bandage.
“I’m not crazy! Well, not mostly, I think. Look!” Wes urged, nodding at the back of his hand. Blue sparks were arcing from the tears in his skin, little snippets of electricity tracing the outline of the blade wound.
“It’s…healing.” Gunn leaned over to get a closer look and hissed when one of the blue streaks sizzled onto his leg. “What’s going on?”
“I remembered something they talked about in the Watcher’s Council. Well, no one really talked about it. There was a legend about some rogue watchers that wandered off on their own a thousand years ago or so. The tales mention that before they left they said they wanted to keep an eye on the Immortal Ones, humans that had the power of the storm under their skin. They supposedly healed from all wounds. We always dismissed it as poppycock, just tales the junior Watchers told each other. No one wanted the elders to catch us talking about them.”
Everyone looked at the now disappeared hole in his hand. The skin was smooth and flawless as if the stabbing had never occurred.
“I guess there’s some truth to it,” Wesley murmured, turning his palm up and tracing his finger down the lifeline.
“So, Super!Wes, is this new skill a forever kind of thing? Should we haul your dead ass back here next time you do something stupid like get shot and just sit around waiting for you to wake up?” Cordy glared and put her hands on her hips. “Cause, really, that would be so depressing.”
Gunn picked up the letter opener and squinted at it, as if it had been playing tricks on them. “And what kills you? I mean, something kills everything. Nothing lives forever.”
“No, nothing’s permanent, but I can’t remember how they -- I -- can be killed.” Wes shrugged then smiled brightly, “A new project.”
“But we still won’t get paid for it! Bookworm,” Cordy teased, the hostility in her eyes softening. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Wes. Well, not deader anyway.”
“Me too, man, me too,” Gunn said, clapping the new Immortal on the shoulder.
“You know what this calls for, don’t you?” chirped Cordelia. “A drink.”
“Or six,” added Wes, sliding out of his bloody shirt and into a sweater from a bag behind the desk. “Maybe a dozen. Being dead makes you awfully thirsty, you know.”
He examined his hand again and added, almost as an afterthought, “We could call us Immortal, Inc. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
As Gunn shut the door behind the trio, he and Cordy chorused, “No way.”
Wes muttered, “Worth a try anyway,” and wandered off with his family in search of a very stiff drink.
~~~The End~~~