March 13, 1998
"Here's my card. I want you to call me if there's anything else you remember."
"Yes, officer," Wesley said, taking the card and showing the detective to the door.
After, Wesley headed into the kitchen, where Buffy was pulling the weapons chest out of the closet they'd stashed it in before calling the police. Somehow, they didn't think a chest full of knives, swords, daggers, and stakes would give the officer the right impression, considering the disemboweled girl outside their door.
"Here, let me," he said, pulling the chest out the rest of the way. "I'm going to call the Council first thing in the morning. They'll advise us how to proceed."
Buffy plucked a dagger from the chest and turned it over in her hands. "I already know what I have to do," she said, softly. "I have to go kill him."
"Buffy, you can't act rashly now. If you agree to his terms, you'll have no element of surprise, no advantage. He'll kill you. Or worse."
Shrugging, she continued to stare at the dagger. "It's what I have to do."
Dear lord. He'd heard, of course, about Slayers who became suicidal. Hunted as though they'd had a deathwish. But Buffy, his Buffy...the girl who dragged him to terrible movies and was always so full of life....
Wesley laid a hand on her arm, surprised at how cool her skin felt under his fingers. As if the internal-freeze that began with her mother's death had started to seep outward.
"Buffy, you know that's not true. I want Kakistos to pay as much as you do, but--"
"What do you think her name was?"
"Pardon?"
Her eyes finally left the dagger to meet his. "The girl. The one he tore apart to send me a message. What do you think her name was?"
"I...don't know."
"How old was she? My age? Older?" Her voice sounded so far away. "Did she have a family? Is someone gonna tell her mother...." With a strangled cry, Buffy brought the dagger down and into the wooden kitchen table. It wobbled but remained upright when she released it.
Wesley pulled her to him, stroking her back and waiting for her ragged sobs to subside. After a while, her breathing slowed and she stilled.
Finally, her face still pressed against his chest, she said, "I can't let anyone else die because of me."
"Oh, Buffy, you mustn't blame yourself," Wesley murmured, brushing tangled golden threads of hair off her face. "That girl...Kakistos is--"
"I don't just mean that girl."
"Oh."
"No, not just my mom either." Buffy pulled away from him and leaned against the counter, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "If I had listened to Merrick more, been a better Slayer, maybe he wouldn't have died. If I had been a better daughter, maybe my parents wouldn't have split, and my mom wouldn't have gotten this crazy, stressful job at the Met. If I hadn't stupidly chased after that woman, I wouldn't have been caught by Kakistos. If I'd just...god, something." A sigh. "Anything."
"Buffy, you weren't to blame for any of those things. We live in a dangerous world, and we're fighting a war most people don't even know exists. There are bound to be...casualties." Buffy snorted. "What?"
"You. Even when you're being a jerk, quoting your Watcher's handbook about 'acceptable losses'...you still manage to make me feel better. Always. How do you do that?"
Wesley ducked his head. "Luck, I suspect."
When she gave him a small smile, Wesley was certain his heart stopped. The smile quickly disappeared though, replaced by the frown that had taken up residence on her face for the past month.
"But that isn't even everything. Just...seeing that girl.... She could be me, you know? She would have been me if Kakistos had it his way. Or some other demon gets in a lucky shot when I'm not paying attention or something. I'm not an idiot, I know Slayers don't usually get to take advantage of senior citizen's early bird specials. But...oh, jeez, listen to me." She looked down, drawing her arms around herself. "A girl gets gutted on my doorstep, and all I can worry about is my death. God, I'm stupid."
"You're not stupid," Wesley said, vehemently. She sounded so distraught, he wished...he wished she could just see herself through his eyes. "You're intelligent, and resourceful. You were wonderful with your mother, she knew how much you cared for her. You're beautiful, and you have a truly wonderful heart."
"Yeah, but...." Her head snapped up and she stared at him, open-mouthed. "You think I'm beautiful?"
Oh, bugger. "I'm sorry, that wasn't.... I'm your Watcher, it's not proper for me to--"
"You think I'm beautiful," she smiled.
At least she hadn't run away. Yet. Actually, she appeared to be moving closer to him....
No, no, no. He was her Watcher, he'd taken a sacred oath....
Her hands were on his arms. Skin no longer chilled, but warm, so warm. And Wesley became painfully aware that she was wearing a rather flimsy tank top.
The scent of her strawberry shampoo surrounded him, and Wesley realized that neither of them were moving. He needed to tell her...that it was wrong...before it was too late....
Then her lips were on his, and Buffy softly moaned as she melted into him. Wesley wrapped his arms around her waist, going against everything the Council had told him and not caring at all. He could feel her heart pounding through her chest against his, even as she hungrily sucked on his lower lip.
Dear lord, she's a distraught girl in mourning, you vulture, his father's voice rang through his head. That was enough to make Wesley pull back and disentangle himself from her.
If he was doing the right thing by not taking advantage of her, why did he feel like hell for it? And oh, god, she looked so hurt....
"Buffy, we can't...I'm your Watcher!" Maybe if he kept repeating it, he'd believe it himself. "And...and you're seventeen! And I'm...not."
She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "Yeah, well, there's no guarantee I'm gonna see eighteen, is there."
The Cruciamentum. He couldn't possibly perform the Cruciamentum if he had feelings.... "Buffy, we can't do this. I...you're mourning. I can't take advantage of you like that."
Buffy brightened considerably. "So you do have feelings for me!"
"What?! How did you--"
"You said 'take advantage.' That means there's something you wanna do."
Wesley felt himself blush. "You're not listening to me. You're upset, you're not thinking clearly...."
"No, that's the thing," she said, shaking her head. "For the first time in, like, ever, I feel like I'm finally thinking clearly. I can't keep waiting for my life to begin, because if I keep waiting around, I'm gonna wake up one day and find out it's over. Or, okay, not wake up, but you know what I mean."
Wesley nodded. "Carpe diem."
She cocked her head. "Fish of the day?"
"No, carpe...seize. Seize the day." He smiled. "You didn't pay much attention during my Latin lessons, did you?"
"I paid attention. Just not to the Latin."
"Well then, what did you...." She looked at him from under her eyelashes, and Wesley felt himself blush again. "Oh, my. We're back to that?"
"Yes, but you get points for almost changing the subject. Wesley, don't you get it? You're my best friend. I can't imagine not having you in my life. I don't care what your bosses say, I love you."
Buffy blushed then, and brought her fingernail up to her mouth to chew on it while she watched him, waiting for his reaction.
Wesley was speechless. He kept waiting to wake up in his bed in Buffy's mother's old bedroom. Or his old apartment on Christopher Street. Or worse, find out he'd only imagined her. Maybe he was still in London, hoping to be assigned to an active Slayer someday. Maybe Buffy Summers was just a figment of his imagination. After all, what beautiful woman like her could look at him and....
He reached out, just to make sure she was real, and suddenly she was in his arms again, and his hands were finding their way under her shirt, running across the small of her back as she nuzzled his neck and moaned.
When she started to lead him towards her bedroom, Wesley had one last reservation. "Buffy, have you ever...?"
She shook her head.
"Are...are you sure you want to...."
Her eyes met his, and she smiled. Really, truly smiled, for the first time in ages. "I trust you. Now stop being a wanker and come on."
Wesley chuckled. "Oh, sure, wanker you learn, but carpe diem you don't."
Buffy grinned and pulled him into the bedroom.
Oh yes, I'm quite certainly going to hell, he thought. And I'm quite certain I don't care.
Up next: Chapter 12 - Broken White Line