*~*~*

Tiny volts of electricity run through pretty much everything and everyone. So maybe we are all in some way, a machine.

Wesley sipped his scotch and watched the flickering lights of Los Angeles from his office window. Electricity was a wonder and a curse at the same time. He knew now that it wasn't his father. It wasn't the fact that he had been so sure it was him when he pulled the trigger. It was the fact that he wanted it to be his father. He wanted to show that old goat that he really did have the scones to do what was necessary.

"Even Angel has gone home for the day." The light but yet, superior sounding chime of Eve's voice was no comfort. "You should get some rest."

"Ah, but as you must know, there is no rest for the wicked." He finished off the remains of his glass and refilled it. "Therefore, I should require no sleep at all."

She took calculated steps towards him, her presence like a cat. "And you describe yourself as being wicked, why?"

He swallowed a large, burning drink. "Because I killed my father."

"But you know that it was..."

"I was hoping it was him. I wanted it to be him. I just knew it was him." He stared into the liquid of the glass. How many was that?

Eve stepped forward and sat on the edge of his desk. "Fathers and sons. That's just about as complicated as mothers and daughters."

"And how would you know?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I come from a mother and father. I wasn't found under a rock. And do you think that my mother expected her daughter to be a liaison to Wolfram and Hart?"

"What did your mother want?"

She grinned. "She wanted a receptionist." She crossed her legs. "Why not take some time? A leave of absence if you will. It might be good for you."

"He's such a pampas arrogant ass!" Wesley shouted. "All I ever did was try to please him! And did he ever tell me that he was proud of anything? No! He just told me what a disappointment I was."

Eve reached out to Wesley and took hold of his drink. "Think of everything you do now. Think of the knowledge you've gained outside of the Council." She sipped on the scotch and wrinkled her nose. "I never understood scotch."

He looked insulted. "What?" Snatching it back, he inhaled the aroma. "Scotch is a fine liquor that requires a delicate understanding of taste."

She smiled. "I see." She hopped off of his desk, smoothing her hands over her fine silk skirt. "Maybe what you need is a break."

"How could he not see how much I've evolved in the last five years alone?"

Knowing her words were falling on deaf ears, Eve took Wesley's hand. "Sit." She led him to the sofa near the window and sat beside him. "You're much too tense." She took his hand in hers. "Maybe a break is what you need."

He still wasn't reacting to her. "He thinks I'm such a disappointment? Maybe I should make myself something to be feared instead." He clenched her hand tightly.

She winced. "Wesley, that hurts."

"Frankly, Eve, I don't give a damn." He shoved her hard with his free hand, knocking her on her back on the couch. "People like you think I'm weak, right?"

"Wesley, I-" She stopped her sentence as he backhanded her, her head ringing with the blow. His one hand was still gripping hers tightly. The blurs in front of her prevented from seeing what the other one was doing. He laid on top of her, wedging his body between her legs, using his weight to keep her pinned. Her skirt began to ride up to her waist, revealing the designer panties that matched her designer bra. She thought it was funny she should remember that now. She had gotten them on sale.

Wesley's eyes were blank as his free hand ripped her shirt open. "How tempting evil can be," he murmured. "The temptress Eve from the garden of Eden. Responsible for original sin."

"Wesley," she pleaded, real fear welling up in her. "You don't want this."

He ignored her, wrenching her hand behind her back just to the point of pain. "Don't make me hurt you more than I have to." He gripped tightly to those sale panties and gave a firm tug, ripping them at the side. His mouth went to the tops of her breasts, barely exposed, still tucked in the bra like a little secret. He kissed her flesh softly, letting himself remember the softness of flesh. Lilah had been the last woman he was with. She knew he had evil in him. She urged him to let it free.

He looked back to Eve's face only to see Lilah there, smirking at him, taunting him. "Do you have it in you, Lover?"

He growled and bit at the breast before him, his free hand releasing him from his trousers. He heard Eve's cry but it was so faint compared to the mocking in his head. Mocking from his father, mocking from Lilah...

He thrust into Eve without warning and this time heard her scream out in pain. "What's wrong?" he smirked. "Not enjoying yourself?" He moved faster, leaning down to bite the top of her other breast, to claim her.

He could hear Lilah's voice behind him. "Now your father will know the power you have. You can take whatever you want, Lover. Take her. TAKE HER!"

Faster. Eve hoped that his increased speed meant he would be through soon. Until then, she could try and be somewhere else. Her arm was starting to throb at the shoulder and she was sure there was blood between her thighs. She tried to picture an ocean view, the sun setting, the birds chirping...

Wesley slapped her face. "How puny am I now? How much of a weakling am I now?"

Eve cried out as Wesley was suddenly ripped from her, now being held at the neck by none other than... "Angel," she whispered weakly.

He threw Wesley into a wall, knocking him out and rushed to her side, tugging her skirt down and closed her shirt as best he could. "Eve, I'll take you to the hospital."

"No." She sat up slowly and tried to hold back her tears. "I can bribe a shaman to heal me." She let her eyes drift to Wesley. "It's not his fault."

Angel swallowed back his rage. "Why not?"

Eve flinched. "Can you get me a rag or something to clean up with. There's a lot of blood here and I don't really want to stain the furniture."

*~*~*

Wesley opened his eyes, blinking against the dryness of the air. Angel was sitting in front of him in the darkness of the room. Angel's hands were pressed together as if in prayer. But his eyes of steel let Wesley know he knew.

"Eve wants this all to be swept under the rug," Angel began. "She doesn't want anyone to know and she doesn't want me to 'punish' you. So she and I came to an agreement. You take some time off so I can cool down. Then we pretend that none of this happened and you never go near her again."

"Angel, it was never about her."

"That's what she said. But you flew off the end. Way off. You raped her, Wesley. If it wasn't for the shamans, she would have plenty of evidence." He tossed a bad to Wesley's feet. "Go."

Wesley stood and picked up his bag. "How long?"

"Till you decide that you don't need to prove how much of a weakling you're not."

Nodding, Wesley left Wolfram and Hart.