Title: The Mistake (1/1)
Series Wesley's Wild and Wacky Demon Hunting Adventures (Part 1)
Author: Kylia
Email: kylia_bug@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Nobody belongs to me, unfortunately. They belong to Joss & Mutant Enemy, and a few other people I don't know.
Rating: R
Spoilers: General S1 AtS - references to S3 BtVS
Category: Wesley - Pretty much a Wes fic in general, although don't be surprised if I pair him with an odd assortment of people, from both sexes.
Summary: Wes makes a mistake and sets about trying to avoid it.
Distribution: Fire & Ice Fic, Of Sire & Childe, List archives, anyone else, ask, and you shall receive
Feedback: Please… I need it to breathe
Author's Note: Something new. I've never written a fic with Wes as the primary, so bear with me :)
Author's Note 2: This takes places several months after the events in "To Shanshu in LA", but anything that may, or may not happen in Season 2, obviously hasn't.
Dedication: To anyone who finds WWP as irresistible as I do.

Angel looked through the glass of his office and groaned inwardly. Wesley had brought a small box into the office and was packing it up, filling it with small things.

"He's really leaving, isn't he?" Cordelia asked as she turned around in her chair in front of Angel's desk where she was going over the follow up to a recent case.

Angel didn't answer her, instead opting to go and speak to the source of their concern.

"Wes, you don't have to go." Angel spoke softly.

Wesley didn't look up. "You're wrong. There is no excuse for the mistake I made. You could have been killed." He looked up then and turned to find Cordelia watching him through the windows. "Both of you." He turned back to his box, purposely not looking at Angel.

Angel sighed. "You're acting like a child."

Angel watched as Wesley's body stiffened in front of him, and knew he had said the wrong thing. When Wesley turned around, that realization was all too clear.

"If that's true, you must be relived to get rid on one of the juveniles in your employ." Wesley's voice sounded weary as he picked up his box and walked past Angel and out of the office, into the daylight, where the vampire couldn't follow.

Wesley sighed against the door. He wasn't even sure why he had waited so long to collect hiss tuff. He knew it would have been infinitely easier if he had waited until Angel was asleep and before Cordelia came in. But maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted them to try and stop them. Maybe he wanted to know they cared, or maybe he just wanted another reminder of why he had to go. Cordelia's bruised flesh staring him in the face, just as it had all those months ago when Faith had come back.

The mistake he had made, this time, was a simple one, but one that would never have been made if he had researched thoroughly. Even Cordelia had commented on the simplicity of the mistake. He did realize she was trying to make him feel better, however her words had the opposite effect. Instead of laughing at his error, Wesley had come to the decision that his father had been right all those years ago, just as the council had been right many years later. He was more of a hindrance than a help.

However, despite this knowledge, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce refused to lie down and accept his lot in life. He refused to acknowledge his idiocy and lie down and let the world roll over him. Instead, he had decided to change his life, and himself.

However, coming to that decision didn't mean that his only friends would have to suffer through his failures, and he was sure there would be more to come. So, he had made the decision to leave Los Angeles and Angel Investigations behind.

Wesley smiled slightly as he emptied the contents of the box into a compartment under the seat of his motorcycle. Climbing on and revving the engine, he pulled his helmet out and drove away from the office.

When he was stopped at the light at the end of the street, he turned to look back. It wasn't the same office he had come to all those months ago, that one had been destroyed in an explosion. But it was still a nice office, and one that he had spent more hours in than his lonely apartment. He would miss it, as he would miss them. But, perhaps, if he found what he was looking for, he would come back, come home. Until then, the road was his home.