YELLOW BRICK ROAD
By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)
Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on.
Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first.
Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch.
Feedback: God, please.
Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise.
Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened.
Please, please review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person!
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Chapter Sixteen - Wesley II of Austria-Hungary
Quarter of an hour later, and Wesley was sitting on his bed, Faith lying beside him, her eyes finally dry. Wearing the top half of a pair of his pyjamas (blue stripe - present from maternal aunt), and with her eyes red-rimmed she looked a mess, but the crying had obviously relieved some of the tension inside her.
"It boils up inside me, and there's nothing I can do," she said suddenly, and Wesley knew something had to be said, something to make sure she didn't spend the rest of her life terrified that she would hurt someone.
"Violence is inherent in all of us," he said quietly, facing her. "No matter how saintly the person, there comes a time when everyone causes pain to someone else. That's why children can be so vicious. It's inside us all."
"But you - you're not violent." He looked at her pointedly, then laughed - a distinctly unhumorous laugh.
"Unfortunately, that is most definitely not true. I'm as violent as the next man - perhaps more so. I'm not a saint, Faith, or some kind of superior person, and don't try and put me in that category just because you hurt me. There's a part of me I am not proud of, and that, quite frankly, I wish wasn't there, but it is, and I have to deal with it. It's all about control. Learn when to use violence and when to curb it." He looked away, once again feeling the stirrings of failure that had dogged him since Sunnydale. "You should have been taught this years ago, when you were first a slayer. Violence is part of your everyday life, but you have to keep your grip on the normal world. It's too easy to sink into a form of society where violence is the way to communicate."
"What I said - before - about you being a bad watcher. I shouldn't have said it, it wasn't true." Wesley laughed again, and this time there was genuine humour in it.
"Yes, it was true. I was a bad watcher, Faith. I was so caught up all the protocols and rules of the council that I ignored what had be done right then and there." He laughed again. "I suppose I was a bit of a Joseph II!" Whatever he meant, it obviously caused him some entertainment, as he chuckled again. Faith stared at him, and after a moment he became aware of her regard, and coughed self-consciously, scratching his chin.
"Right. Of course. Joseph II - Austro-Hungarian emperor of the eighteenth century. He was fascinated by the theories of statecraft around in that period, and gave all his attention to them at the expense of the actual problems his country was facing. Well…" Faith grinned.
"Thanks, Wesley. And this time, I do mean it. Anyway, I think I should probably go back to…" and she gestured at the bed. Wesley leapt up, and backed away, stumbling over a forgotten box of tissues by the door.
"Absolutely. Excellent idea. I just - hang on a minute!" He disappeared, only to return a minute later, triumphantly bearing a book. "Knew I had a copy of this somewhere!" Faith eyed the thick, leather-bound volume dubiously.
"You know, Wes, I'm not really much of a reader."
"Chronicles of Brother Anselm," he announced, completely ignoring her, in a manner so reminiscent of Sunnydale-watcher-Wesley that Faith had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. "Incomparable when it comes to getting off to sleep after a bad dream. Angel favours the sheep catalogue incident, but my personal preference is when Brother Anselm is put in charge of painting the dairy shed. He devotes three chapters to sitting on a milking stool in the middle of the shed making sure the paint dried evenly."
"Making sure - You mean, he watched paint dry?"
"Exactly!"