ahh

Thanks

so maybe I was projecting my dream shrine a little too hard there, huh?

Grrggh. Would someone please remind me that since I've already turned Giles into a vampire, that rearranging other points of canon is not presumptuous? And I'm becoming quite perturbed with Ms. Rosenberg. Fight fair and stop whining, darn it.

And damn it, I'm going to have to kill someone sometime, I'd best nail down my list of victims and just deal.

Nah. I mean, for someone with an OTP, I've paired Wes up with...

Lilah
Spike
Faith
Connor (unfinished)
Billy Tallent from Hard Core Logo
Angel (subtext only)
Gunn
Fred (subtext only)

Hey! And now that the Soul is Out, the Fred/Wes isn't spoilery, because it was me riffing on What Could Go Wrong based on my Stoned Theory.

Title: Brains on Drugs
Spoilers: Partnership for a Drug Free America, AtS through about 4x11, and perhaps even Dude, Where's My Car
Summary: Harmless?

"Wes, where's the soul?" Fred stood there, pantry doors wide open, and gawked at the sad lack of a certain bottle. Absently, she noticed that there was a hell of a lot of pudding, and giggled.

Wes blinked and struggled to prop himself semi-upright in the beanbag chair. "Where's the soul, Fred?" he said, then blinked again. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

"I forget. Do you think pudding is capable of sexual reproduction? Maybe it's like Tribbles, born pregnant."

Wesley just stared at her blankly, his mind trying to focus on what sort of demon a Tribble might be, then losing its place as it noticed the patterns in the linoleum appeared to be swimming if he squinted just right... or maybe he'd lost a contact or perhaps...

"Wes, where's the soul?"

"Are there any more of those brownies?"

"Seriously, Wes, where's the soul?"

Panicked now, he stood up and looked in the pantry himself. "Fred, where's the soul?"

"Okay. Let's think. If I were Angel's soul, where would I be?" Fred frowned and grabbed another brownie from the plate, chewing thoughtfully. "We had it last night, right?"

Wes thought hard. That didn't work, so he thought harder. "Fred, do you remember anything at all about the events of last evening?"

Fred tossed him a brownie of his own and shook her head. "Not a thing. Wes, we are sucky guardians. I can't believe we lost Angel's soul."

"Perhaps we put it in the refrigerator?"

Of course. That made sense.

They crept over to the fridge and looked anxiously at the door. "Wes, what if it's not in here?"

"It has to be in there. A soul can't just get up and walk off."

"Okay, well, you open it."

"No, you do the honors. Ladies first, after all."

"No, you suggested it. I think you should open it."

"Why don't we both open it?"

They closed their eyes and grabbed hold of the handle, shivering a bit as the rush of cold air hit them.

"Is it there?" Fred asked.

"I'm not certain. I'm afraid to look. Count of three?"

"Okay. One. Two. THREE!"

Two sets of eyes opened, then closed again as two sets of hands slammed the door shut on an icebox sadly lacking in soul, but blissfully full of chocolate pudding in handy individual serving sized containers.

"Wes?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"You want to break it to them, or should I?"

hee

Toss me a brownie...

I forgot that it was a new Angel last night. I taped, but didn't bother to watch. This is how disenchanted I've been lately. As a result, I bookmarked your story, but haven't yet read it, Plei.

connie, if I were you I'd kill Willow. It would be fun.

Don't worry, Elena, I have plans for her.

Are they homicidal?

mayyy-bee ...