December 1997
"No way you're backing out," Buffy said, ducking Wesley's punch. "Not optional."
"And how do you propose we explain it to your mother?" He blocked her roundhouse and used her momentum to spin her away from him. "Buffy, remember to let your opponent come to you."
She stumbled backwards, then quickly righted herself. "Already taken care of. I told her you were my math tutor."
"Math tutor? I...wait, there." He motioned for her to stop. "What you're doing now is perfect."
"Crouching?"
"Staying low. You'll be safer in a fight if you keep low to the ground. Good, now advance towards me...."
Buffy circled him, keeping her knees bent, and as soon as she had an opening, she aimed another kick towards his shoulder.
"Damn," he swore, shaking his hand after her foot had brushed his fingertips.
"Ooh, sorry, did I get you?"
"Yes, but it's fine, go on."
"Okay." Buffy feinted to the right, then, as Wesley went for an opening, she grabbed him around the waist and flipped him onto the mats. Pushing her hair out of her face, Buffy grinned and helped him to his feet. "So it's settled. You're coming to dinner on Christmas Eve."
"All right." Wesley brushed the dust off his shirt and tilted his head, looking at Buffy. "You are persistent, aren't you?"
"Part of my charm."
"I'll say." He coughed and abruptly headed towards the small table in the corner of the training room. "By the way, the Council's information on Kakistos arrived today."
"Finally!" Buffy toweled off her face and shoulders. "What took so long?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. I would have done the research myself, but I haven't gotten around to having my library shipped over yet."
Wesley left off the part where he hadn't brought his library with him in the first place because everyone had assured him that his assignment to the Slayer would be a temporary one, if Merrick's notes on the girl had been true. No one had expected her to survive her first month in New York under Wesley's care, as all her victories in Los Angeles seemed to have been pure luck. But Buffy had proven to be resilient, and quite innovative in her fighting style. As the weeks ticked by, Wesley grew more and more assured that Buffy and he had a long tenure ahead of them.
"Apparently," he continued, "Kakistos is an old vampire, older than most on record."
"And that's why he's all he-goat look?"
Wesley nodded. "And he has a reputation for hunting humans for sport, capturing some of them--"
"To keep as pets, I know." She wrapped her arms around herself and studied the floor. "It's what he wanted to do to me. He'd been tracking me a while, he said."
"Tracking you? You never told me about that!"
"I didn't want to worry you."
"Worry me? Buffy, you have to tell me these things!" Wesley could feel the anxiety surge through his body and begin to coat his words, but this was serious. "What if Kakistos is still looking for you?"
She shrugged and crossed her arms. "What if he is? I can just rip off his other arm. No big deal."
"It is so a 'big deal,' Buffy. You seem to forget that I am your Watcher, and as your Watcher I have certain responsibilities that must be met. I can't do my job properly if you're not going to behave responsibly and give your duties the weight and respect they need."
"God, Wes, don't blow a gasket. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was important."
Sitting down in the wicker chair by the desk, Wesley sighed. "And I'm sorry I yelled. But we have to be more conscientious to the Council's protocols. Until we know where Kakistos is, I don't want you going out socially after dark."
"Yeah, because I go out socially so much anyway," she snapped.
All the anger seemed to seep out of him in one instant. "Buffy," he began, but she put her hand up and shook her head.
"Don't. I gotta go. See you on Wednesday. Five o'clock sharp or mom'll get cranky."
Wesley watched her go, then he turned to the desk and laid the documents on Kakistos out in front of him. If the vampire really was after Buffy, there was no telling what amount of danger she could be in.
***
It was only six at night, and the last thing Buffy wanted to do was go home after leaving Wesley's. So she stayed on the train at 23rd, keeping her eyes on the station signs as they passed 34th and 42nd. At 50th, she impulsively sprang from her seat and darted out the door the second before it swooshed closed. Outside, the air was brutal, whipping between the buildings lining Broadway and creating a maelstrom up and down the street as debris and hats went flying. Buffy navigated her way through the pre-theatre crowd and darted across the street, heading towards 6th. Keeping close to the buildings as she walked down 50th cut down on some of the wind, but she was still shivering by the time she got to her destination.
She'd seen pictures of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, but this was her first time seeing it in person. It seemed so small, the people zooming around on the ice beneath it smaller still. As Buffy leaned against the railing that overlooked the skating rink, a powder-fine snow started to fall. It would have been a perfect, wonderful moment, if....
If Buffy wasn't the Slayer.
If she'd been just a girl, out with her friends during Christmas vacation, laughing as they fell onto the ice and stumbling to the café for a cup of cocoa to warm up before trying again. She'd dreamed of being a skater, once. Olympic medals and a world tour with Katarina Witt. Nowadays, Buffy's dreams were slightly less ambitious. A night on the town with friends-- having friends -- forgetting that vampires and demons even existed. Just for one night.
Wesley did his best, he really did. Sometimes, when he was more a friend than a Watcher, it was enough. It was enough and she was fine, because she knew what her destiny was and she had someone with her who understood and cared for her.
But those other times, the ones when Buffy walked past a group of kids her age and felt something hard and hungry inside, aching so much she thought it would swallow her whole...those times, all of Wesley's kind smiles and patience couldn't save her.
Then again, it wasn't his fault Buffy was a freak. He'd been chosen just as much as she'd been, he'd told her as much the night they'd fought Kakistos. And he'd been kind to her. Merrick had been a wonderful Watcher, but he'd never treated her like a friend. He didn't seem like the type who needed friends. Not like Wesley. Hell, sometimes it seemed like Wesley needed her just as much as she needed him.
And it really wasn't fair of Buffy to snap at him over things they couldn't control. Slayers didn't have friends, didn't date. It was just how it went. It wouldn't do anyone any good if Buffy alienated the closest thing she had to a friend. She would apologize to him first thing in the morning when she went for training.
As Buffy turned to leave, she felt a tug at the sleeve of her coat. She turned around, half-hoping to see Wesley, having him complete her perfect, wonderful moment in Rockefeller Center two days before Christmas as a light snow fell. She was greeted instead by a small, skinny man in mismatched clothes, clutching a semi-crumpled paper cup. He smiled and held the cup out, and Buffy reached into her coat and pulled out a dollar, dropping it into the cup.
"Bless you, miss. Have a Merry Christmas," he said, giving her a feeble smile before hobbling away.
"Merry Christmas," Buffy said. She gave one last glance at the rambunctious skaters in the rink before pulling her coat around her, turning, and heading home.
Up next: Chapter 8 - Legacy