[After this.]Long-parted allies and friends. The first man thought dead by the second. The second man thought never to be seen again by the first. United again, only to find themselves lost in a desolate dimension under the sway of their greatest enemies. Their only resources? The few items they have on them.
So, naturally, it takes less than an hour for the bickering to start.
“This is really great, Wes. Another hell dimension with all the rocks and skulls and mile after mile of nothing I ever wanted. “
"It
is called the Death Realms. What were you expecting?”
“Should have been called the Walking Realms.”“Would you prefer I carry you?”
“What I'd
prefer would be to end up
just once in a hell dimension that has jet planes and race cars. Or, I don’t know, skateboards.”
“I’ll be sure to consult the indexes for one the next time Wolfram & Hart recruits us.”
“...Don’t have to get all snarky about it.” ------------------------------------------
Geburah, of course, is not getting any more cheerful. But the low hills have given way to a view of the Great City in the distance, and Angel and Wesley pick up the pace to get to it as quickly as they can. Out among the low hills, it’s hard not to feel like an easy target.
Fortunately, distance in Geburah is a shifty thing, and the two men find themselves on the outskirts of the City in only a fraction of the time they expected.
“Looks like something wants us here all right.”
“Ye-es,” Wesley agrees. “I don’t recognize these buildings from my previous visits. But one can’t expect this sort of place to remain the same.”
“So how do we to get where we’re supposed to go?”
“You don’t,” a voice calls from behind them. “Not without my help.”
Wesley is not in the least surprised. “Father.”
Angel glowers. “Roger Wyndham-Pryce.”
“So, you’re finally here," He steps out into the pale light. "You might have hurried along. This is not the sort of place I prefer to be kept waiting.”
“Waiting for what exactly?” Wesley asks, his expression growing less pleased by the second.
“For you, obviously. The Council arranged for a precognition of your next visit to this place. At great expense, I might add. But it was important than one of us be present to intervene, so I accepted the formidable dangers involved in coming here. Of course, had I known you were going to take time for an extended tour--.”
“Is this ever going to get to a point?"
“Angelus. Of course. I should have expected I would find you here as well."
“It’s
Angel,” the vampire corrects through gritted teeth.
“Yes,” Roger replies, eyeing him. “Well. Hardly a distinction of any significance.”
Wesley doubts Angel's next reply will help the situation.
“Father, what exactly does the Council expect you to prevent? We've come here as part of our effort to undermine Wolfram & Hart. It's hard to imagine why the Council would object to that, unless they've established some sort of alliance with the Senior Partners."
“Wesley. Don’t be impertinent.”
“Need I remind you that the last time we met, you tried to entrap my spirit here forever?”
“Oh, don’t be absurd, boy. It would hardly have been forever. It was merely a reasonable precaution to ensure the safety of those manuscripts until the Council could send a proper recovery team. Surely no more than a decade.”
“It seems your definition of 'reasonable' and mine differ quite a lot.”
"Once in a while, Wesley, you might consider the Greater Good."
“Because the Council has done such a great job on behalf of that,” Angel growls.
“As for you,” Roger turns. “How my son could consort with a monster such as yourself for all this time will be forever beyond me.”
Angel’s face darkens as he takes a step forward, “Keep pushing, Rog, and you might find out just how much of a monster I can be.”
“That's enough,” Wesley steps between them. “Angel hardly needs to prove his status as a Champion to you, Father, or to the Council.”
“That’s right!” Angel points. “The
Shan--.”
Roger glares at Wesley. “Do you mean to say you take that ridiculous prophecy seriously?”
”—-shu prophe--[mumble].” (
Dammit.)
“--Why, proving that ludicrous document a fraud is barely a trifle, even for a First Year. Laughable nonsense.”
(
What’s one less Watcher? Even Wesley shot this guy. Sort of.)
“The Prophecy is quite real, Father, regardless of whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.”
“Oh, very well,” Roger sighs, waving his hand dismissively. “Believe what you must. We have a far more important matter to address.”
”I liked the robot better,” Angel grumbles.
[Continued] 
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