March 18, 1997

This feeling of impending doom is steadily growing stronger. I have been Cordelia's Watcher for two weeks, and have already scheduled to begin training her in combat against various demons apart from vampires. This being the Hellmouth, one can never be too careful. These training sessions with Cordelia are very intense, and I admit that they are, in part, for selfish reasons. I want to be close to her, and close to the fire that drives her.

Our relationship is unusual at best. She is my charge--my pupil. She looks to me for instruction, to teach her how to slay the evil that exists in this town, and here I am filled with longing for her. It is with regret to say that we have become friends—very close friends. She tells me everything about school, her parents, and the people she calls friends, but really, they are more like her sheep, bleating in agreement to everything she says. I find myself telling her things she really has no business knowing, such as the rather problematic relationship I have with Father. Yet, here I am, telling her these things, sending her these signals.

The signals Cordelia sends are undeniable, although they are not of a romantic persuasion. She has quickly let me know who is in charge. A look here, a comment there. Only in title am I her superior, and I'm not sure if she is just that obstinate or I that weak. She has even gone so far as to drag me around downtown Sunnydale (if such a thing actually exists) after sunset, under the guise of 'honing her vampire-seeking skills'. I do not consider myself to be naïve, but I must confess that I was hoping that this excursion was her attempt at some sort of social contact with me. However, her true intention was revealed when she grabbed me by the arm and took me into Ralph Lauren and began piling shirts and pants into my arms. "Less tweed," she said. "And suits are for being buried at the cemetery, not patrolling it." She does have quite an eye for clothes, though, as these khaki pants are comfortable…

Anyway, as the weeks go by, it has become apparent she is content to flirt. We wait for vampires to rise, filling our time with conversations about everything and nothing, and everything she says is laden with innuendo. Several weeks ago, I was inches from holding her hand when a vampire surprised us from behind. Of course, Cordelia wasted no time in destroying him, but the combination of my close encounter and her excitement with the kill were almost too much for me to bear. That is when the dreams began. Not prophetic dreams, as Cordelia is inclined to sometimes have, but dreams I can't admit to in daylight. I fill these personal journals with them just to clear my mind. I keep them separate from the Watcher's Diaries, and also from Cordelia. It is the only thing I keep hidden from her.

After our nightly patrols, I force myself to sleep, and when sleep finally comes, all I can see is her beautiful face. I wake in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, my heart racing. I fear that as we draw closer, this condition will only become more aggravated.

It isn't just her beauty that mesmerizes me. It's her incredible zest for life, and the inner workings of her mind. It's the incredible high she gets from being the Slayer. It's her obsession with shopping. Her absolute resistance to face anything but reality and speak anything but truth is fascinating. I love everything about her. I love her. Period.

I often wonder if another Watcher has ever fallen in love with his Slayer. The diaries only document a few cases where parental love has developed, but even that was frowned upon. Watchers have been fired for caring too much.

March 19, 1997

What I have feared has come to pass. I went to the market this afternoon, and when I came home, I found Cordelia on the couch watching television. I only bought that blasted contraption for her, because I certainly have no use for it. She turned around and smiled at me. I returned her smile, my heart leaping like her faithful puppy.

As a side note, I'd like to add that I do realize that my exact recollection of this conversation borders on obsessive, but that very same quality is what they most admired at the Academy—my ability to recall even the most mundane detail.

Her smile is dazzling, and as she begins to speak, I realize that she wants something.

"Shouldn't you consider getting cable? There's nothing on the networks," she said to me, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Shouldn't you consider putting down the remote and picking up some books? You have a Chemistry test tomorrow." She flirts with me and the best I can do is sound like her father. I hate it when I sound like her father. Why couldn't I have said something clever? Something that would make her laugh.

She rolled her eyes at me, like she would her father, and cut off the television. She walked over to the kitchen where I was standing, concentrating on where to put the eggs, and the English muffins.

"I'm not worried about Chemistry. Honor roll, remember? Not only am I a super-slayer; I'm a super-student. Principal Snyder says so."

"It can never hurt to be prepared. I would think that after all the training, that particular point of interest would have sunk into that pretty little head of yours."

"Oh, I meant to let it sink in, but I was too busy fighting the forces of darkness."

"Is that all? I'm still reeling from your resignation from the cheerleading squad. Certainly the Sunnydale High Razorbacks will never be the same." This was the part I loved the most…the lightness of our conversations, when she plays along and I don't have to concentrate on my longing for her.

"Yeah, well, you're right, mister. They will never find someone who looks as cute as I do to put on top of that pyramid. Besides, do you know how many head cheerleaders there are in this world? Compare that to the number of slayers. You just don't get much more special than that."

Before I could respond, she was already speaking again.

"So…how late do you think we'll be tonight?"

"Depends on the vampire activity, why? Are the Cordettes assembling at the Bronze to decide what's in and what's out?"

"No… but there's this guy…" She said, and my heart dropped to the floor, and a sudden wave of jealousy swept over me.

"A guy? Does he go to school with you? What do you know about him?"

"Whoa, Wes. He's just a guy."

"You should know better than anyone that there is almost no such thing as that in Sunnydale."

Cordelia arched one of her eyebrows and exhaled. "He's a senior, and President of Student Council. He's also pitches for the baseball team and is a straight-A student. His name is Mitch, and we have a History class together."

"Now I see why you can't recall the facts of The Hundred Years War…" I knew that I shouldn't have said it, but I just couldn't help myself.

"Rude much?"

"I don't trust him, Cordelia. Have you never heard of something being too good to be true?"

"What, do you think I would go out with someone I don't know anything about? Sunnydale is a small town, Wes, and I know everyone in it. So trust me when I say that Mitch is very date-worthy."

"There are other risks involved in dating this boy that you may not see. He is a walking target, having this attachment to you."

"What about my friends? They haven't been put in danger."

"I would hardly call those people you associate with friends." I knew I was being hard on her, but I couldn't stop.

"Geez, Wesley, lay off, huh? What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"My knickers are not in a twist. I just want you to be safe, and I don't want you putting innocent lives in danger. If you have to look out for others, then you're not concentrating on fighting."

"Well I certainly don't plan on taking him on patrol with me."

And thus I lost the battle. In resignation I told her, "Maybe we should go ahead and get our things collected. I don't want to keep you out too late."

She grinned and giggled.

"Thanks, Wesley! You're the best!" She hugged me and I felt my heart begin to beat erratically.

"I only want you to get home early so that you can study for your exams in the morning."

"Sure, whatever you say," she replied, knowing that she had won.