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 Twenty-Four - The Wrong Things All Over Again
Curiosity overcame Wesley's irritation at being interrupted, and he sat down.
"What?"
"Way back when, in you first attempt at being watcher, what went wrong?"
"Lorne, I fail to see what this has to…"
"Now, play nice, Wesley. Answer the question." Wesley heaved a sigh of exasperation.
"I played everything by the book, but I didn't know what I was talking about. Faith's - and Buffy's - experiences as a slayer were completely different to what I'd expected following my training. I tried to force them to do things according to the watchers' council rules when it wasn't appropriate. Plus I was something of a stick-in-the-mud," he added reluctantly.
"Mmhmm. And what was the first thing you did after Faith asked you to be her watcher again?" Wesley looked at him, confusion writ plain on his face.
"I went to see Angel." Lorne sighed.
"No, after that."
"I went to collect all my books on being a watcher - the diaries, all the…" He trailed off, leant back, closed his eyes, and groaned. "Oh God. I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Lorne watched sympathetically as he rubbed his face with his hand. "I get a second chance, and I just start doing the wrong things all over again. I thought man was supposed to learn from his mistakes!" He laughed bitterly. "I don't know why I even agreed to do this. I'm completely unsuitable for this sort of…"
"What the hell did you say to him?" Faith came striding out of the kitchen, eyes ablaze, looking at Lorne as if she wanted to do him some serious damage. Lorne, who was nobody's fool, took one look at her and sat as far back in the sofa as possible, probably hoping to avoid grievous bodily harm.
"Faith, he's right, this isn't…" Once again Wesley was interrupted as Faith stood in front of him, glaring down.
"What? You're giving up?" He rose to meet her, carefully placing his hands on her shoulders.
"Faith, let's face it, I'm no good at this sort of thing. You need someone…"
"Oh, yeah, right, I need Mr Perfect Watcher. Well, guess what, Wes? I'm not Miss Perfect Slayer. I don't want some…some paragon teaching me." Her hands lifted, resting on his forearms. "I want you, Wesley."
"Actually, I didn't mean that you should stop being her watcher." Lorne, judging that Faith was no longer set on endangering his person, stood up as well. "I just meant that you should change your methods. You're a good man, Wesley, and a good leader. You know exactly the sort of things you should be teaching. You just have to separate being a watcher from being what the watchers' council taught you to be. Now, must dash. God knows what I'll find when I get back. Trouble magnet doesn't come close to describing those kids." He was as good as his word, and two minutes later Wesley and Faith were alone again. They looked at each moment, then Wesley broke the silence.
"Well, I suppose, if you still want me…" He hesitated, but Faith had read his agreement in his eyes, and she gave an uncharacteristic squeal of delight and flung her arms round him. Wesley stood stock still, stunned for a moment, before relaxing and hugging her back. A beat; two beats, and they separated, both looking faintly embarrassed. Faith sat down in an armchair. Wesley sat down on the sofa, and idly picked up a book. There was silence. Then:
"So, I don't suppose you'll be wanting to hear what Reginald Mayhew had to say, then."
Five seconds later the cushion previously languishing in the armchair was airborne, its trajectory perfectly calculated to get Wesley in the head.