Wesley opened the blinds on his window and looked out down onto the city streets. Taking a sip from his glass, he sunk down in the chair he had turned to face the window. Letting the liquid role over his tongue appreciatively, he smiled. It was a fine brandy, expensive. He had really spent more on it than he should have, but he just couldn't give up this one largess.
He had bought himself a bottle every birthday since he had gone into official training and become so cut off from the rest of the world that there really was no other way to mark the occasion. <Rather unnecessary now...> Still it seemed that some traditions were worth keeping, and though the glass that he drank it out of now was certainly not the fine crystal of before, he decided that it tasted infinitely better-rich with a satisfaction that he had never possessed before.
Turning toward the table that held the gifts from the people responsible for his new life, he picked up a picture, Cordelia's gift to him. Running his fingertip along the edge of a dark walnut frame, which didn't really fit with his current thrift store décor, he felt a lump rise up into his throat once again.
It was a photo of the three of them grouped around a table, with champagne glasses uplifted, and broad silly grins on their faces. At first he had been at a loss as to when she had gotten chance to have it taken, but then the night had come rushing back to him.
The restaurant had been far more expensive than any one of them had been to in a long time, and they had certainly not been the ideal customers still too giddy over their recent discovery of Angel's prophesied "Pinocchio imitation" as Cordelia insisted on referring to it. However, it was amazing what money could accomplish, and with generosity of their endearing if rather odd client, Mr. Nabbit, they had made quite a night of it.
Between the two of them Wesley and Angel had convinced Cordelia to at least try snails, laughing as she threatened them both with dire consequences. Angel had revealed his impressive knowledge of the French language, and Wesley had found common ground with Cordelia on the discussion of bargain shopping. All together they had managed to pass an entire night without once talking shop. It was one of his best memories, and somehow she had known this.
Lord, now he remembered the actual picture taking as well. Chuckling he closed his eyes and pictured the shocked expression on the roaming photographer's face when he had looked down in the viewfinder. They had pulled it off though, keeping entirely straight faces, except for Cordelia who had adopted a rather irritated look and muttered about restaurants losing all their class. Poor man, he had been so convinced of his own hallucinations, he must have checked that camera twenty times over after they left.
Taking another sip, he turned the frame over and read the note written in some rather shiny gold paint. "Welcome to the family." She had signed it with a large flourish, and he now traced the lines. They had all grown so much this year. He still couldn't get over his shock that she had been the one responsible for planning this day as well.
******
(Earlier that day)
"And how is everyone on this fine morning?" Wesley tried hard to keep the expectant look off his face, but he knew he was failing miserably.
"God, I'd like for you to give me one reason that this is a fine morning. You would think that evil would acknowledge vacation time." Cordelia grumbled in response, barely giving him a passing glance as she put on the coffee pot.
"Oh, is there something new I should be aware of?"
"No, just lots of boring old demons. We fight them. We kill them, and still we show up at 8 a.m. the next day. You know, why is that?"
"I...uh...well..."
Angel poked his head out the door of his office. "Wesley can I see you a minute?"
"Certainly." He followed Angel back into the office, and stood across from him. "Is there something that you needed?" He asked hopefully.
"Yeah, I've got some errands that I need you to run. Here's a list." Without looking up, he extended a slip of folded paper. "You can take my car."
"I will endeavor to get them done as quickly as possible."
"Wesley, there's really no rush, nothing special is happening today. Take your time."
"Oh," His hands fidgeted with the paper as he tried to hide his disappointment. It seemed that no one was inclined to remember his birthday. Sighing, he mused how glad he was that he had decided to buy that bottle of brandy after all.
"Hey, Wes." He turned back to face his employer. "Here." Angel tossed him one of the cell phones that Cordelia had bought them, "Just in case Cordelia thinks of anything else." The vampire let a crooked grin cross his face that Wesley couldn't help but answer.
The day wore on slowly as Wesley scrambled all over town to occult shops, rare book stores, the butcher's, and other places on the list. Looking down at the paper, he sighed, and turned down the street. Angel had been meticulous, specifying exactly where he wanted everything from, and as luck would have it none of them were close together.
Still, it wouldn't have been quite so bad if Cordelia hadn't managed to call him with something else she wanted from the other side of town every few hours. It was getting late, and all he really wanted to do was salvage what little he had left of his birthday with an expensive dinner and a good book.
The phone rang again, and Wesley cursed, as he wondered why he just didn't have the good sense to turn it off after the last call. <Whatever she needs, she can damn well get it herself.>"Hello?" he snapped.
"Geez, Wesley no wonder you don't get any dates if you keep answering the phone like that."
"Cordelia...."
"Okay, okay, look you left some books over at my apartment, and I would appreciate it if you came and got them, because I really don't want to have to explain to visitors who drop by why I have a copy of Black's Occult on my coffee table."
"You could just move them to a less visible place. Say, your bedroom?"
"Yeah right, like I really want a bunch of old musty books smelling up my bedroom. Just come over and get them okay?"
Grumbling, he turned the car around, heading away from Angel's office and towards Cordelia's. He was still muttering under his breath as he rang the doorbell, pressing down hard on the button when she didn't answer the first ring.
"All right, all right I'm coming." The door swung open, and Cordelia stood there with her arms crossed. "What?"
"The books?" He was on his last nerve, and she was riding it with expert accuracy.
"Oh, right... yeah they're in there." With a bored air, she waved her hand towards the darkened living room, moving aside so that he could enter.
Wesley stalked past her, "I really don't see why you couldn't just simply put them in some other place for one..."
"Surprise!!!"
"Oh my..." Wesley swallowed as he turned to survey the apartment. Cordelia had transformed her living room, making it appear much larger than it actually was. A spread of finger foods-including crab puffs-was arrayed on a table. There was a small bar set up in the corner, and somebody had turned on the stereo, but what made his throat catch were the people smiling at him.
All the people he had had a hand in helping, since joining with Angel were crowded together raising their glasses to him: the family of that poor boy, their bumbling computer friend who they couldn't quite get rid of and now really didn't want to, Gunn and a few of his crew. Even Kate was there, looking a little uncomfortable and standing strategically far away from Angel, but there all the same.
Angel for his part was standing in the background with a wide smile on his face, trying as hard as he could not to look brooding. Amazingly he was succeeding rather well. "Oh, my..."
"You said that already." Cordelia chided. Putting a hand under his chin and closing it gently, she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Happy Birthday Wesley." Reaching across, she plucked a few tissues from the hallway's side table and handed them to him with a smile, whispering, "This apartment's terrible for allergies."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of color, well wishing, and smiles. As he was watching some of the dancers, Angel finally made his way over to him. "Hey."
"Hello." They fell into a rather awkward, but still friendly silence. "Everyone seems like they're having a good time." Wesley finally observed.
"Mmm, I'm not surprised. You should have heard excited most of them were when I called them. I mean the chance to thank someone who saved your life..."
"You saved their lives, Angel."
"We saved their lives. Don't forget that."
"I will try...most of them?" He turned quizzically to Angel.
"Yeah, well, Cordelia called Kate for me." Wesley followed Angel's gaze over to the blond talking to David Nabbit in the corner.
"Aaaah, she is here though. That's something."
"No, you guys are not talking business here. I worked too hard on this party. Go have fun, drink, dance, flirt." Catching someone's eye across the room she motioned with her hand. Wesley gulped as he recognized the girl to be one of Coredelia's socialite friends from that unfortunate incident with the pregnancies. "Look, Sarina specifically asked to be reintroduced to you, so take advantage of the added sex appeal that heroism gives you, and go dance with her."
Giving him a little shove, she tugged Angel with her over to the bar, effectively cutting off all avenues of escape. As Sarina led him out to the middle of the floor, he caught Angel's eye, whimpering when the vampire just gave him a little wave and a smile in response.
******
"Thanks for coming. Yes, we'll be sure to call you the next time we have a party." Cordelia called in reassurance as she hustled David out the door. Sighing, she closed the door and leaned against it. "Thank God, you only have a birthday once a year."
"Thank you, so much."
"Hey, Angel's idea." Cordelia sunk down beside Angel who was sitting on the couch that they had managed to pull back into the middle of the room.
"Mmmm," Angel swallowed the blood he had gotten from the stash Cordelia now kept for him here. "No, I just said we should celebrate your birthday. The party and surprise, and all that was all her."
"Well, thank you. Both of you."
"Oh, presents!" Cordelia squealed as she shot up off the couch.
"That...that really isn't necessary..." Wesley trailed off when as Angel shook his head.
"You're not going to win you know. She's in full celebration mode." He held up his hand as he took another sip. "Never let her take you shopping."
At Angel's warning Wesley chuckled. "I think I can remember that."
******
Wesley turned back to the table to survey the other fruits of that shopping trip--a leather-bound journal, a pen set, and a soft heather gray sweater one size too big. Swallowing down the tears and another sip of brandy, he reached for a brown shipping box.
Cordelia had handed it to him as he left, saying that it had come in the mail that morning. Running his hand over the return address, 'Rupert Giles, Sunnydale California', he tried to guess what it might be. Finally, satisfied that he had absolutely no idea, he reached for the scissors and ran the blade through the tape holding it closed.
Reaching in he lifted out a plain dark blue tin with a note attached. The 'Wesley' scrawled across the front was definitely the elder man's distinctive angular hand. Sucking in an anxious breath, he opened the note and read.
"From Angel's reports and Cordelia's occasional phone calls it seems that all the emotional maturity has migrated to L.A. I would eat my words, but I thought you might enjoy doing it for me."
Puzzled, Wesley laid down the note and lifted the lid on the tin. Peeling away the tissue, he let out a brief laugh at what lay inside, a dozen or so blueberry scones. <Now where did he ever find them?>Putting the wrapping back in place, he picked up the note to place it inside the tin, when a line at the bottom of the paper caught his eye.
"Better a Watcher in spirit than in name only."
Smiling he picked up his glass, "I'll drink to that."
Finishing off his drink, he moved over to the kitchen counter and washed it out. Getting a book from the edge of the counter, he began to make his way back to his chair, when the small white box beside the book registered. Turning back around, he stared at it for a moment. It held down a note scribbled on a napkin, "Sorry for the break and enter, but I'm not good at doing this sort of thing in person. -Angel"
With trembling hands he opened the box. For a long while he simply stared unable to believe what lay inside. The tears, which he had been fighting all night, blurred his vision, and he had to wipe them away with the back of his hand to keep them from spilling on the simple white cardstock, with the outline of an angel in the corner.
Swallowing hard, he whispered the words out loud as he read them, hoping to make them feel more real. "Angel Investigations. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce...Associate"