"Your Latin sucks."

Wesley paused in the middle of the incantation, a slow scowl coming over his face. The boy’s expression was almost gloating, and it set his teeth on edge.

Grabbing the bottle of Holy Water, he splashed it on the child’s face, taking a type of sadistic glee when the creature hissed and flinched away from him.

"I know your tricks," said Wesley hotly. "You’ll not deter me from what must be done!"

The boy laughed mockingly. "You? Do something? What makes you think you can do anything?"

Wesley glared, but resisted the urge to lash out at the demon before him. Instead, he pointedly looked down at the Bible in his hands and began reading. "In odorem suavitatis. Tu autem effugare, diabole. Appropinquabit enim judicium dei—"

"You couldn’t even watch," the boy interrupted, smirking. Wesley froze, his eyes slowly meeting the demon’s.

"Everyone knows you got fired because you couldn’t do anything right," Ethros continued unrelentingly. "Nothing is going to make him proud of you."

"Skimming the surface of my mind," Wesley forced out in between gritted teeth. "Very good. But a mere parlor trick. Here’s one for you." In one, swift motion that lacked any of Wesley’s usual clumsiness, he set the Holy Water down on the bed side table and picked up a cross, shoving it in the demon’s face. "How many crosses am I holding up?" he hissed angrily. "Omnis spiritus immunde! In nomine dei!"

"All those hours locked up under the stairs," said the demon, and Wesley was thrown off balance by its use of his own voice. "And you still weren’t good enough! Not good enough for Daddy, not good enough for the Council, and . . ." It paused, its smirk growing more malicious. "Definitely not good enough for . . . him."

"What?" croaked Wesley.

"Ah, unrequited love. How painful. And for another man, and a vampire, at that. Whatever would Daddy say?"

"Shut up," Wesley said weakly.

"But, that won’t really be a problem, will it?" asked the demon. "I mean, how could he ever return your feelings?"

"Shut up," Wesley repeated, his eyes wide and disturbed.

"He’s Angel, the vampire with a soul, Champion of the Powers That Be, fucker of little blond Slayers. Who are you? Some incompetent Watcher he barely took notice of in Sunnydale! You’re just here to replace Doyle, and to serve as a researcher! He could care less if you got killed tomorrow!"

"Shut up!" Wesley screamed, wildly lunging at the demon with the cross and breaking the protective circle with his foot.

The door opened behind him, and Angel barely had time to react before Wesley cried out in pain and fell backwards, the cross embedded in his neck. Angel rushed forward and caught his friend as he fell, quickly dragging him to the other side of the room.

Bracing himself, he slid the cross out of Wesley’s neck, wincing as it burned his hand.

"Ah, and here he is!" said the demon, laughing diabolically. "We were just talking about you, Angel, and a little secret Wesley has—"

"Angel," moaned Wesley, drawing the vampire’s attention away from the demon. "Angel - painful - help—"

Angel nodded in understanding, helping Wesley to his feet and to the door, throwing a speculative look over his shoulder on the way out.

The demon simply smirked.

**~

Wesley sighed, twisting his foam coffee cup around in his hand.

It had only been a day since Ryan Anderson had been taken into custody by the police, and Wesley found himself deeply disturbed by the boy’s whole case. What was his true nature? What might’ve caused him to have been born with absolutely no humanity, to such an extreme degree that a demon such as Ethros couldn’t even compare? Was it a chance occurrence, a freak thing where Ryan somehow lacked in spiritual development?

Or were there more Ryans out there, ones that are seen everyday on the news, such as serial murders and child killers?

Wesley raised the cup to his lips and took a drink, only to immediately gag.

"Something wrong, Wes?"

Wesley looked up through bleary eyes at the entrance, where Angel stood, leaning against the threshold.

"No," he croaked. "Just . . . Cordelia’s coffee."

Angel nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I remember the whole . . . esophagus melting thing."

"Feels like it," muttered Wesley, suddenly very self conscious. He’d been rather jumpy around Angel ever since the incident with the cross, though the vampire hadn’t tried to inquire farther about what the Ethros had been speaking about. Of course, they had been a bit busy, what with killing the demon itself and then rescuing the Andersons from their soulless son.

And by the look on Angel’s face, it appeared as though he was finally ready to talk about it.

"So, Wesley," began Angel, slowly stalking into the room. "Uh, about the demon yesterday . . . What, uh, exactly, happened in there?"

Internally, Wesley cursed.

"I just . . . got angry."

"About what?"

"Nothing," said Wesley, too quickly.

Angel raised an eyebrow. "Was it about me?"

Wesley sighed, trying to think up a believable lie. "Yes . . . The Ethros just said that I didn’t trust you, and that my father would be ashamed of me working with you, so I was angry."

"Oh," said Angel suspiciously. "You’re sure that’s all?"

No, Wesley wanted to shout. No, that’s not all! I love you, I love you—

"That’s all," he said quietly. "That’s all it was. Completely unimportant."