May 1997
"You're not serious!" Wesley gaped in horror at the objects Buffy had laid on the table.
"I'm way serious. New York's not as bad as California, but you'll still croak in you insist on wearing tweed in the summer. Besides," she held the blue polo shirt up to him and smiled, "it totally goes with your eyes."
"That's all well and good, but we should be training right now. Not playing dress-up. Fashion is hardly relevant to vampire slaying. Besides, the Council has a strict dress code that must be adhered to."
Buffy crossed her arms. "First of all, fashion is always relevant. Second of all, you're the only Watcher in these parts, right?"
"Well...yes."
"Then no one's gonna know about your dress code. So what's the harm?"
He sighed dramatically and surveyed the offerings. Polo shirts, khaki shorts, chinos...his father would have a coronary if he saw his son wearing any of these blatantly American garments.
Wesley grinned.
Buffy handed him the shirt and pushed him towards his bathroom. Wesley well knew it was no use arguing with her, so he closed the door behind him and pulled off his tie. The crisp blue shirt was much cooler than his usual button-down silk shirts. He had to admit, it would make training more comfortable.
Wesley opened the door and stepped out. Buffy nodded approvingly and clapped. "See? Much better. Oh, but you need to put the collar down, like this."
When Buffy grabbed his collar and started fussing, Wesley squirmed. Americans were so prone to grabbing people. They had none of the personal boundaries most people back home had. Wesley was fairly sure he'd had more contact with other humans in the past three months than he'd experienced his entire childhood.
"Stop fussing! Jeez, I used to baby-sit for kids who were easier to dress," she chided with a wink.
"I don't suppose now would be a good time to broach the subject of more appropriate Slaying attire for you? Because I think you'll find you'd have more mobility and confidence in a pair of trainers and a track suit."
"Please." Buffy looked down at her short, pastel skirt and platform sandals. "If Slayers could fight vamps in corsets way back when, anything's possible."
***
June 1997
"Thanks," Buffy said to the vampire who'd thrown her into the Washington Square Park fountain. "I was feeling kinda warm."
The vampire snarled and dove towards her. Buffy ducked under the grimy water as he flew over her and slammed into one of the black nubs in the middle.
"Buffy, are you okay?" Wesley shouted as she popped up, gasping for air.
"Yeah, I'm fine, but...oh, crap, where's my sta--"
All the wind whooshed out of her as the vampire tackled her from behind, snapping at her neck. Stake, stake, where the hell's my stake?!
Slipping on the slick, mossy bottom of the fountain, Buffy kicked the vampire in the face and continued groping around for her stake. When the vampire grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, she got an idea.
Buffy pulled one of the chopsticks she'd used in her hair and twisted around, thrusting it into the vampire's heart with a grunt.
As the vampire exploded into ash, Buffy giggled and turned to Wesley. "Did you see that?"
He nodded. "Yes, I did."
"And what do you have to say for yourself?"
Wesley crossed his arms and glared.
"C'mon, you know I'm gonna make you say it."
Rolling his eyes, Wesley helped Buffy out of the fountain. "Fine, fine. I was wrong. Fashion is relevant to vampire slaying."
"Better believe it. Oh, hold still."
"What is it?" Wesley said, freezing up and subtly scanning the park. "More vampires?"
"No, no vampires. You just got a little...." Buffy stood on tiptoe, gripping Wesley's shoulder for balance. He remained motionless as she gingerly brushed some twigs out of his hair.
When Buffy finished, she wrung her hair out and said, "Good thing it's a warm night. Just remind me not to patrol near the river during the winter or anything."
They walked uptown towards Union Square in silence, enjoying the balmy air and amiable quiet that's only found at two in the morning in the city. They were about to head into the subway when Buffy stilled, motioning for Wesley to do the same.
"What? More foliage?" He raised his hands to his hair.
"Shh." Closing her eyes, she cocked her head slightly. "There? Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That weird clicking. Past couple of days, I've been hearing it sometimes. It's like something's...following me."
They stood there on the top of the stairs for several minutes, scanning the park. A stray Hari Krishner aside, it seemed to be deserted.
"I'm sure it's nothing," Wesley said, pulling out a subway token. "This city often gives one the feeling of being watched."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Buffy cast one more glance over her shoulder before following him down the stairs.
***
July 1997
Gingerly stretching his arms, Wesley let out a whoosh of air and looked at Buffy, who nodded approvingly.
"Color me impressed. You made it through patrol without shrieking once."
"I've never shrieked. I've...shouted. Perhaps. But I don't shriek."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Right. Anyway, come on, I'll grab my stuff from your apartment then head home. Go to bed."
"To bed?" Wesley checked his watch. "But it's only 8."
"I know." She shrugged. "Don't really have anything else to do. No homework, and mom's at the gallery until late. And it's not like I have some party to get to, or a girl's movie night or anything."
Wesley felt a pang of guilt. It was his fault Buffy wasn't off with some friends, wasn't it? No, not his fault. After all, he hadn't chosen her to be the Slayer. And it was a necessary evil. Still, maybe there was something he could do to help....
"Would you, erm, like to go see a movie?"
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "With you?"
"Oh, well, not if, I mean, if you'd rather," he stammered, blushing. Stupid. He wished her knew why this young girl always managed to make him revert right back to the awkward boy he'd been in boarding school.
Buffy smiled. "No, that sounds great!"
"Wonderful!" Wesley exclaimed. "I hear The Last Time I Committed Suicide received good notices."
Buffy laughed and skipped down the street, tugging Wesley behind her. "Nuh uh, we have to see My Best Friend's Wedding."
Wesley groaned, but found himself grinning slightly as he followed her.
***
August 1997
Buffy stood in Barnes and Noble, picking up a new Latin book for her studies, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
"Oh, hey Becky."
Becky Gillam had been in Buffy's chemistry class. She was one of the few girls who'd been nice to Buffy her first few days at school. And Buffy had repaid her by pulling away and ignoring her during class, under Wesley's "don't get close to anyone" orders.
"So, my family is throwing this big old end-of-summer barbecue in the Hamptons this weekend. You wanna come?"
Buffy'd been hoping it would get easier to pull away from her classmates over time. It hadn't.
"Ah, um, I would love to, really, but I promised my mom I'd help her fix up the apartment a little."
"Oh, okay." The pretty brunette's face fell a little. "Well, hey, see you in school in a few weeks!"
"Yeah, see you," Buffy smiled.
When Becky was out of sight, Buffy sighed. Being the Chosen One sucked when it meant choosing freaking vampires over a social life.
***
September 1997
The sun had already set as Buffy and Wesley made their way down St. Mark's Place on the way home from a foreign film of Wesley's choosing. As Buffy daintily sidestepped a pile of books laid out for sale on the cracked sidewalk, she turned to Wesley.
"So how did you become a Watcher anyway? I got stuck fighting vamps, I can't imagine anyone actually volunteering for this."
He gently guided her around an incense stand billowing plumes of strawberry smoke into the humid air. "Well, my father was a Watcher, as was my grandfather, and my great-grandfather. I don't suppose I ever gave much thought to career options outside of the Council."
"Isn't destiny fun?" Buffy grinned.
"Indeed," he smiled back.
The giant black cube in Astor Place split the moon's light into twisted patterns that decorated the pavement. They silently admired the sight for a few seconds before a woman almost barreled into Wesley as she darted up the street, a man following close behind. No one in Astor Place seemed to think anything was unusual about the jogging couple, but one look at the man's grace and speed and Buffy was taking off after him. Wesley stopped only to get a stake from the holster he'd rigged to his boot before following. At 10th Street, the woman ducked into an abandoned building, the vampire following a few moments later. It occurred to Wesley that it was odd for the woman being pursued to not seek assistance from the many people crowding the sidewalks.
"Buffy, wait!"
His warning came too late and Buffy had already been swallowed by the decrepit building. Wesley fought the urge to run in immediately after and insure her safety -- he'd do her no good getting injured or killed, she'd made that clear. So instead he crouched behind a dumpster and tried to come up with a plan.
Up next: Chapter 4 - Prey For the Hunter