Wesley drabble!

Written for open_on_sunday

He couldn’t go home. The Council refused him airfare. His pittance of a salary was gone. He did have a motorbike, a gift from a grateful bike dealer whom he’d saved from a Spnnyk demon. Wesley had sheepishly accepted it. His money wouldn’t last long.

He first planned to sell it and return home--to what? He’d been sacked and he couldn’t face his father in humiliation. And riding that bike made him feel powerful, mysterious and… sexy.

Wesley ran his hand over one leather-clad leg and whispered, “Rogue demon hunter.” He sped out onto the highway to points unknown.