Hello my lovelies!

So sorry I haven't been updating recently but I've been very busy with school.

Anyways, today's chapter was inspired by a very enlightening gif on tumblr...but I won't bore you with the details. But if you've been waiting for a BAMF!Wes, you've found him here.


Bree Z Claire

I do NOT own glee.

Wes closed the door to his Jeep with a happy thump and adjusted the strap on his bag as he made his way past the large streaming fountain that made up the grand entrance of Dalton Academy. He'd returned from his semester abroad in Beijing yesterday and he was itching to come back. He didn't officially start classes until Monday but with so much work to do, Wes thought it was best to brush up on a few things; Warbler things.

Regionals was fast approaching and with him being away for a full semester Wes was sitting on edge wondering whether or not the Warblers had made the cut past Sectionals. Of course he'd given David and the others his email and they had been conversing for the first few months, but then Wes had gotten busy with school and a brand new social life and had shamefully forgotten about his email altogether. The last email he remembered was of Blaine's transfer becoming official which hadn't really taken him by surprise considering all the time he'd spent with Kurt over the summer.

He checked in at the office so his presence at school wouldn't raise any trouble or disorder – he wouldn't be attending class until Monday after all. He paused to say hello to some teachers and students, then made his way down the marble stone staircase towards the Warbler's practice room. It was oddly quiet and for a moment he found himself furrowing his brow in confusion. He glanced at his watch: 2:58. Warblers practice begins in two minutes, he thought, everyone should be in the room preparing for warm-up.

He leaned forward as he opened the doors and poked his head in to scan the room.

The room was empty.

"Oh dear God." He whispered. His heart was racing and his palms were beginning to sweat. He rushed towards the large council table to open one of the locked drawers with the key he wore around his neck. The polished gleam of his gavel was enough to bring his heart beat back down to normal. He hugged it to his chest with a deep hum and for a moment almost forgot about the horror of an empty practice room at – he glanced at his watch – 3:01. He could feel his nerves rising again so he clutched the gavel tighter in his hand. Just before he began hyperventilating – Why aren't they here? Warm-ups should be underway! Regionals are coming up, why aren't they beginning rehearsals at the allotted Regionals-prep hours? – Wes heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"Man, those New Directions can really dance."


"Kurt said we could go visit Blaine tomorrow right?"

"Maybe we should arrange something for him you know? Like, as a sorry or something."

"I can't believe he's having surgery…"

The boys came in by twos and threes until they all froze just beyond the threshold of the entrance.

"W-Wes?" Nick and Jeff shared identical shocked looks that was mirrored throughout all of the other boys; all of the boys except one. Wes caught David's eye and immediately his heart slowed to normal human speed. They shared one of their telepathic conversations before Nick chimed in, "Is that really you?"

Wes rolled his eyes, "No, it's the tooth fairy - of course it me!" They all swarmed around each other then, exchange hard claps of the back, insanely wide smiles and a few too many 'It's really good to see yous' and 'So glad you're backs' than Wes was prepared to hear. He straightened up with a frowned – it was 3:16 now – and looked at the boys with a raised brow. "Why aren't you guys practicing? Rehearsal started 46 minutes ago!"

"But it's only quarter past!" Trent whimpered slightly.

"If we were in normal rehearsal mode," Wes wagged his gavel in the air and a few of them took an involuntary step back. "We're on a Regionals time schedule now which means rehearsals start a half hour earlier and end a full hour later. Or have you all forgotten everything in my absence?" To his surprise, he wasn't answered with the frightful nods of the boys or annoyed huffs from Thad and David. Instead, there were very noticeable exhales of relief from each and every member.

"It's good to have you back, man." Thad squeezed Wes' shoulder.

"You have no idea how good it is to have you home." David and Wes exchanged warm smiles. "How was your semester abroad?"

But before Wes could sum up an answer, and an apology for not replying to all his emails, a cough from behind the group echoed loudly beyond the mahogany doorway. The boys parted and soon there was a clear path from Wes to a boy who stood at the doorway. He had tall, sandy-brown hair and dark brown eyes that swirled with the amusement of someone in the midst of a game of cat and mouse. He was quite tall and the smirk on his face led Wes to imagine a snake who was calmly slithering their way into the Warbler's practice room.

His Warbler's practice room.

His grip on his gavel tightened when he spoke, "Who are you?" The boy promptly ignored him and sauntered forward instead. Wes could feel the others slowly retreating into the room to stand, perch, or sit on the nearby couches to watch the exchange with careful eyes. Hell, there hadn't been this much tension in the Warbler's room since…well since Blaine discussed his thoughts of transferring to McKinley – Wes hadn't been there but he'd been on Skype with David at the time discussing Council nominations when the boy filed in and Blaine dropped the bomb.

Wes frowned at the idea of seeing all his Warblers huddled together in what appeared to be anxiety and just a touch of fear. He already knew he wouldn't be liking this boy, whoever he was. "I'm sorry classmate, but this is a members-only room and a closed practice room reserved for members of Dalton Academy's Warblers. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Wesley Montgomery," The boy said instead. "The mother hen of the Warbler's coup and former head Councilman of the Warbler's Council. I've heard you're pretty scary with a gavel but seeing you up close I have to say I'm a little disappointed."

"Excuse me?" Wes could feel his eyebrows shoot up. They stood about a foot apart from each other, and though there was a clear height difference it wasn't by too much, and the boy looked down his nose at Wes.

"Sebastian Smythe, new leader of the Dalton Academy Warblers." He extended a hand and Wes found himself shaking it out of pure habit. He almost laughed at the thought of all those business meetings his father had forced him to attend and all the while complaining that he'd never learn anything from them. Apparently he had.

"Pleasure." His tone was anything but pleasurable. "I'm sorry. I must have heard you wrong, did you just say leader?"

"I did actually and a good thing too. I mean, when I transferred here, all I heard about was how amazing the Warblers were…I was surprised to see how utterly chaotic everything was when I stepped in to audition." Wes glared back at David and Thad, who simultaneously became very interested in their shoes. At the sight of the Warblers, something sparked in Wes' mind and reminded him of a little detail he was surprised he'd forgotten.

"Nick," The brunette turned. "You said something about Blaine needing surgery."

The boy nodded.

"What happened?"

"Well…" Nick began but couldn't seem to find the words. He looked at Jeff who continued for him.

"We were having a showdown type thing with the New Directions to battle out who would get to do Michael for Regionals," Wes raised an eyebrow. Even though they were competitors, the two show choirs were still friends. He failed to ask how both teams came up with Michael Jackson in the first place. "And things may have gotten out of hand…"

"We didn't mean to!" Trent jumped in, suddenly panicky and guilty. "It was supposed to be just a joke!"

"A harmless prank." Jeff looked miserable.

"When he fell on the floor we thought it was just theatrics…" Thad was adjusting his tie.

"Until he started screaming." David voice was small and rueful.

"An unfortunate incident." Sebastian's voice made Wes tighten his grip on his gavel even more. Was he not even sorry? "Collateral damage; it wasn't even meant for him in the first place."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Wes cried in outrage. More than a few members jolted upright at their Councilman who rarely raised his voice if at all. "This is – I can't even – Why would you even – UGH! This is not acceptable behaviour coming from the students of Dalton Academy and definitely not from the young gentlemen that are proudly named 'Rockstars' among their friends and peers. What ever happened to 'Once a Warbler, always a Warbler?'

"Need I remind you of the incident of '93 when Pavarotti's precursor, Martinelli, was kidnapped from the grounds by our rival show choir group of Vladimir High? Did our father Warblers fight dirty or did they take the high road and challenge them to what was later known as one of the greatest Harmony battles to go down in history ever? To this day, every generation of Warbler strive to successfully obtain the mastery of ten part harmonies. It is a system that lines our warm-up practices and determines future members of Warblers; The Blended Harmonies Test!" By the time he finished the eyes that stared back at him were no longer those of anxious, fearful young boys. Eyes that seemed dimed and lost before were now bright with the glow of someone who had just surfaced and could now 'see the light'. Wes wondered what else this Sebastian character had swiped from his Warblers. He turned back to the boy who was wearing a rather bored expression on his face.

"Wow…it must have been hard." He shook his head and regarded the Asian with a look of pity.

"What was?" Wes narrowed his eyes.

"Growing up with rule books and regulations. You never had fun did you, just sat at home reading textbooks all day?"

"I have a healthy respect for the rules which is more than I can say about you." His knuckles were probably white from clutching his gavel so hard but Wes couldn't help it. This…slime got under his skin in ways he didn't know were possible. "What happened to Blaine?"

"An unfortunately accident." Sebastian smiled coolly.

"Specifically!" His voice was hard.

"A Slushie." He stated simply and Wes' eye widened. It was well known that the jocks at McKinley High had somewhat of a habit of drenching unfortunate glee club members with the icy drinks. From what he had heard, they hurt but never cause enough serious damage to send anyone to the hospital. Let alone lead to surgery.

"There were um…rock salts in it." The voice was so quiet Wes couldn't even tell who'd spoken.

Wes gritted his teeth and felt his entire body tense. "You deliberately harmed a former member of this club?" There was no doubt in the minds of the Warblers sitting aside that Wes could've cut glass with that glare. Even Sebastian's smirk seemed to sober at the Head Councilman's tone.

"Like I said; collateral damage. The Slushie was intended for Kurt, not Blaine."

"Kurt is a former member of this group and he was a valued member –"

"He got what was coming to him." Sebastian said darkly and there was a mass intake of breath from the group as a dozen pair of eyes stared full blank at him.

The movement was like a snap of a rubber band. Wes gripped the head of his gavel in his fist and swung hard, hearing a rather satisfying crack when he made contact with Sebastian's jaw. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and true to the idiom, Sebastian fell hard. From his peripheral, Wes spotted a small cassette tape slide across the floor.

Every Warbler in the room was on their feet in an instant, only to stop dead when they caught Wes' death glare directed at them. He knelt down to pick up the tape, rolling it in his hands for a moment before holding it up; his eyes were still on the boy sprawled on the floor. "What's this?" he asked without turning.

David answered him. "I-It's a recording of Sebastian confessing to putting rock salts in the Slushie. That scary girl, Santana recorded it." If his voice wavered in fear, Wes ignored it; all his attention was aimed at the snake at his feet. Sebastian had recovered slightly but remained on the floor with his eyes glaring hard at Wes.

"Well then." Wes stood up straight and crossed his arms, bringing his hand to rest comfortably on his gavel handle once more. "I'm not sure Dean Jones will be very happy about this. He and my father are close friends you see and if he were to hear that one of our newest students – even if it is a Smythe," The name had been rolling around the files of his brain throughout their whole exchange and he'd just now placed the name of the state attorney's son. "If they were to hear a student was caught in the act of such ungentleman-like conduct such as deliberately blinding another student…"

"You —"

"—And with such damning evidence too," He twirled the cassette in his hands. "Well, how could they not expel you and put that big red stain on your permanent record?"

"You wouldn't—" His voice was low but anyone could hear the quiver as he spoke.

Wes considered this for a moment, enjoying the fear blossom out into Sebastian's eyes the longer Wes stood there silently. "You're right," he finally said. But before Sebastian had any time to breathe a sigh of relief, Wes was up close and personal so they were face to face. His voice was pure danger when he whispered, "But if you ever set foot in this school again, if you ever think or attempt to harm any of my Warblers or any of our friends…the next head on my gavel with be yours." Wes didn't need to wait for a reply because by the time he turned to face his fellow Warblers, the echoes of feet were down the hallway and out Dalton's doors.

Snakes really are lightning fast when they want to be.


"Holy crap–"

"That was amazing–"

"How did you–"

All voices cut off. All movement froze. All thoughts stopped dead when they caught sight of the dark eyes of their head Councilman. There were audible gulps throughout the group as everyone exchanged familiar fearful glances, ones that could only be the result of an angry Wes Montgomery.

"Now," he said in a dangerously quiet nature. "As much as I'd like to interrogate each and everyone one of you right away – " relief turned to pure dread with the addition of those two last words – "we have more pressing matters to attend to."

Wes walked over to the Council's desk and promptly took his seat in the center. After receiving a pointed look, David and Thad all but sprinted to their spots by his side. David pulled up the Official Minutes book and Thad took out his clipboard, preparing to jot down notes. Once the Council was prepared to his satisfaction, Wes brought the gavel down with an easy bang. As if he'd waved a wand, everyone seemed to snap out of their reveries to get hit, hard and cold, in the face with a reality they had barely believed happened.

"It is now 3:47PM, let this Warbler's meeting commence. If everyone will take their seats we have some important matters to discuss." He folded his hands together and settled into a year-old routine he'd built himself. "Now it seems that a Hell lot of disgraceful behaviour has resulted out of my absence; that's going to stop. I will have order in this Warbler room and I will not stand for any more chaotic behaviour is that understood?

"One of our own –former or not—is injured as a result of our carelessness and it is our duty to set things right. I suggest an 8 part harmony medley of either Katy Perry, Pink, or Michael Jackson. There's a lot to make up for and it would seem we are short on time, therefore I call this meeting extended an extra two hours. Are there any objections?"

Obviously there were none.

"Good," Wes let a smile curve his lips. "Let's get cracking shall we?"