Chapter 6
[A town inn, Southampton, evening]
"Ouch!" Wesley yelped as Amy applied some antiseptic on his hand. The watcher he punched had a jaw of concrete.
Amy applied some ice on his hand. "We don't want it to swell up."
We don't have much time, Wesley thought. The renegade watchers are already here in the countryside. If we don't find the lily in time .....
The phone rang. "Hello?" Amy answered. "It's for you Wesley ... somebody called Lorne?!" Wesley thought of refusing the call. He didn't feel like explaining himself – yet again – about his actions leading to the apparent kidnapping of Angel's son. Despite his instincts, he took the call.
"How the hell did you find me?" Wesley demanded.
"Easy on the negative energy, pal," Lorne snapped back, "I called your dad's place. He's worried about you too, you know."
"What business of it is yours?" Wesley insisted. "I suppose you're going to tell Angel where to find me, so he can finish me off?!"
"Look, whatever mission you're on for Queen and country, it must be important enough if the Slayer's behind it. Willow told me everything: Amy, the lily, those nutty watchers. What Buffy forgot to tell you guys is ... that chairman – the big boss of the baddies – he's into some messy black magics. Oh, and your bud Giles is in the neighbourhood ... and Wes, take care of yourself."
"Thanks." Wesley hung up the phone. He stood up and peered out the window. It was getting foggy.
"Everything okay?" Amy asked.
"Have you ever felt like – I don't know – like you're the only person on earth. No one to trust, no one to care about you?"
Amy remembered the way Buffy glared at her. As if the Slayer had a monopoly on righteousness. It was her friend Willow that abused black magic. Well, I did open the door for her, but Willow walked through that door. I didn't force her. Yet, I'm the one to blame for her mistakes. All's cosy and good when Willow screws up -- she's the Slayer's best friend. When Amy Madison makes a mistake – whoa look out, the Slayer's on my case.
"Oh, I can soo relate with that!" Amy replied. Wesley sat on the bed and stared at the wall. He remembered how Angel tried to smother him with a pillow shortly after that last conflict with Holtz. The pure hatred that peered from his friend's (is he still a friend) eyes. Fred admonishing his for "not trusting" them with the dark secret: "The father will kill the son". It turned out to be an elaborate hoax: a deception used to ensnare Angel's son. He sacrificed everything: his friendships, his work, his integrity ... for a lie.
Wesley laughed. "How could I be so stupid." He laughed, until the tears welled up in his eyes. "All for nothing," he mumbled as he buried his face in his lap – and cried.
Amy hesitated. What do I do? She did what any normal person would have done – she put an arm around him to console him. Wait a minute ... there is something I can do!! "Just say the word, and I can snap up a 'forget' spell. You can wash away all that pain, that guilt. Just tell me ... and I'll do it!"
Wesley stood up. "That is NOT how regular people deal with problems. We don't run away from them!" He paused. That's exactly what I'm doing right now. Hiding in Britain, waiting for Angel to respect me again. Amy looked puzzled.
"This isn't Wizard of Oz! I can't just click my heels and go home again. I've hurt my friends. How can they trust me again. And magics ... aren't supposed to be used like aspirin! They should only be used responsibly."
"I wasn't suggesting ..." Amy began. I just wanted to help!
"This isn't a game any more, Amy! This isn't Sunnydale, where your biggest fear was what dress to wear to the prom. Lives are at stake! If you can't appreciate the severity of our situation – then perhaps the Slayer was right not to trust you."
Then Wesley looked at Amy. A look of ... mistrust. No, not mistrust. He looked right through her, it seemed. As if she wasn't even human. Something evil, ... or worse.
"I was just ..." she began, then her emotions caught up with her. She grabbed her jacked and ran out into the street ... into the mist. Sobbing.
In his anguish, Wesley realized that Amy was going through the exact torment. Alienation from her friends. Feelings of utter despair. I've done it again – failed to trust the people around me.
He ran after Amy and grabbed her arm. She yanked it away. "Leave me alone!" she cried. "You don't ... don't know ... how lonely it is. Willow was a close friend ... and she's turning her back on me. I want to help people. Magics are the only gift I have ..." She knelt on the cobblestone road and cried. "My curse!"
Wesley hugged her. "I was out of line. I'm sorry." She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. "I'm soo sorry. Believe me, I know exactly how you feel." Here, on this misty street in some nameless Southampton town, no one – not Buffy, not Angel, not anyone – could understand the need for friends better than Wesley and Amy.
"There's a pizza parlour around the corner," Wesley suggested, "We'll order a big pizza – extra cheese – get warmed up. Then we'll go back to the inn and plot our strategy. The Watcher's Council doesn't know who they're messing with. A tough-as-nails witch ..."
Amy laughed "... and a rebel watcher on a quest for justice!" They dashed down the street.
Melissa Thorne, MI5 agent, peered at them from her car. "Are you sure you can trust them, Mr. Giles?"
"We're going to need as much help as we can," Giles answered. Their car zoomed away to the rendezvous point – a beach along the coast. The paratroopers must have scrambled by now, he thought.
[Country manor, Southampton, dawn]
The chairman licked his fingers. I loove extra spicy chicken. He pulled out the macaroni salad ... and emptied it into the cauldron.
Thomas protested. "But I thought you wanted the large-size one?"
The chairman slapped him on the back. "It's exactly what I want. There's an ingredient in the special sauce that fits this spell.
Another watcher chomped on a drumstick. "How's this spell gonna give us England in a handbasket, again?"
"I told you already," the chairman muttered – impatiently. "Mind control. We'll have the PM pass a law abolishing the monarchy."
Richard, the watcher whose nose Wesley almost broke, mumbled in the chairman's ear. "Without the lily, we won't know where to find the Grail."
Thomas' eyebrow raised. Grail? He knew the chairman was slightly obsessed with Arthurian legends. But the Holy Grail. It's a myth. A medieval fairy tale.
A phone rang. The chairman answered. "Yes. Yes. You're certain. Very good."
The watcher with the drumstick drank his cola. "What's up?"
"Gentlemen," the watcher announced. "We know where the lily is. By midday tomorrow, the House of Windsor will be little more than a minor footnote in history! We leave at once!!"
For the first time, Thomas felt nervous about the chairman's plans.
[Early morning, a meadow near a ruined abbey, Southampton]
Wesley sneezed. "My allergies!" He sneezed louder.
"I noticed something yesterday here, but we were a little busy with the watchers."
Wesley read the Latin inscription on the crumbled abbey gate. "It says: 'That which he used to seal the covenant with his brothers lies herein'" The local townsfolk said this abbey was the ancestral home of a Knight of the Round Table.
Amy sat down in front of a patch of weeds. There, amidst the dew-tipped grasses and weeds, grew a white flower with a purple centre. There was no other flower in the meadow like it.
"By the heavens," Wesley crossed himself, "Living proof that Joseph of Arimathea, the follower of Christ, arrived on these shores." He remembered the Latin motto on the abbey. "... which he used to seal the covenant ... which He used ... covenant with this brothers ...". He repeated the lines over again.
"You've got this Sherlock-Holmes-elementary-my-dear sparkle in your eye, Wes. Well??"
"The lily is important, but not a goal in itself. The lily is a means to an end. No. Oh no."
"Wesley? Spit it out!"
"The chairman wants to find the lily ... so he can find the Holy Grail! The Grail!!"
No wonder he said, 'oh no', Amy thought. Wesley opened an urn and scooped out the lily at its roots, clumped with a mound of dirt. He handed the urn to her.
"You must hang onto this. Whatever the cost."
"Ohmigod!" Amy waved her hands. "Oh my god! It's a the-world-is-at-stake situation, isn't it."
"Promise me you'll hang onto this urn at any price. No matter what happens to me, or anyone else who comes after it." He shoved the urn into Amy's hands. "Promise me!"
"Okay, okay! Hang onto it. No matter what."
Wesley looked across the meadow, opened his knapsack and pulled out a dagger. He slipped the dagger into his belt and shouldered a long axe. He marched ahead. "Run. Now."
Amy looked. Great, the watchers from yesterday's skirmish arrived. They brought a few friends. And plenty of swords.
Wesley began to sprint. "For god's sake, run, Amy Madison! Run!!!" He yelled as he lifted the axe.
Amy ran. This little flower ... this lily ... was a sign of life. Proof of faith. She cuddled the urn and began to run. If I'm to make a difference, now is the day. She closed her eyes. Magic time ...
[A town inn, Southampton, evening]
"Ouch!" Wesley yelped as Amy applied some antiseptic on his hand. The watcher he punched had a jaw of concrete.
Amy applied some ice on his hand. "We don't want it to swell up."
We don't have much time, Wesley thought. The renegade watchers are already here in the countryside. If we don't find the lily in time .....
The phone rang. "Hello?" Amy answered. "It's for you Wesley ... somebody called Lorne?!" Wesley thought of refusing the call. He didn't feel like explaining himself – yet again – about his actions leading to the apparent kidnapping of Angel's son. Despite his instincts, he took the call.
"How the hell did you find me?" Wesley demanded.
"Easy on the negative energy, pal," Lorne snapped back, "I called your dad's place. He's worried about you too, you know."
"What business of it is yours?" Wesley insisted. "I suppose you're going to tell Angel where to find me, so he can finish me off?!"
"Look, whatever mission you're on for Queen and country, it must be important enough if the Slayer's behind it. Willow told me everything: Amy, the lily, those nutty watchers. What Buffy forgot to tell you guys is ... that chairman – the big boss of the baddies – he's into some messy black magics. Oh, and your bud Giles is in the neighbourhood ... and Wes, take care of yourself."
"Thanks." Wesley hung up the phone. He stood up and peered out the window. It was getting foggy.
"Everything okay?" Amy asked.
"Have you ever felt like – I don't know – like you're the only person on earth. No one to trust, no one to care about you?"
Amy remembered the way Buffy glared at her. As if the Slayer had a monopoly on righteousness. It was her friend Willow that abused black magic. Well, I did open the door for her, but Willow walked through that door. I didn't force her. Yet, I'm the one to blame for her mistakes. All's cosy and good when Willow screws up -- she's the Slayer's best friend. When Amy Madison makes a mistake – whoa look out, the Slayer's on my case.
"Oh, I can soo relate with that!" Amy replied. Wesley sat on the bed and stared at the wall. He remembered how Angel tried to smother him with a pillow shortly after that last conflict with Holtz. The pure hatred that peered from his friend's (is he still a friend) eyes. Fred admonishing his for "not trusting" them with the dark secret: "The father will kill the son". It turned out to be an elaborate hoax: a deception used to ensnare Angel's son. He sacrificed everything: his friendships, his work, his integrity ... for a lie.
Wesley laughed. "How could I be so stupid." He laughed, until the tears welled up in his eyes. "All for nothing," he mumbled as he buried his face in his lap – and cried.
Amy hesitated. What do I do? She did what any normal person would have done – she put an arm around him to console him. Wait a minute ... there is something I can do!! "Just say the word, and I can snap up a 'forget' spell. You can wash away all that pain, that guilt. Just tell me ... and I'll do it!"
Wesley stood up. "That is NOT how regular people deal with problems. We don't run away from them!" He paused. That's exactly what I'm doing right now. Hiding in Britain, waiting for Angel to respect me again. Amy looked puzzled.
"This isn't Wizard of Oz! I can't just click my heels and go home again. I've hurt my friends. How can they trust me again. And magics ... aren't supposed to be used like aspirin! They should only be used responsibly."
"I wasn't suggesting ..." Amy began. I just wanted to help!
"This isn't a game any more, Amy! This isn't Sunnydale, where your biggest fear was what dress to wear to the prom. Lives are at stake! If you can't appreciate the severity of our situation – then perhaps the Slayer was right not to trust you."
Then Wesley looked at Amy. A look of ... mistrust. No, not mistrust. He looked right through her, it seemed. As if she wasn't even human. Something evil, ... or worse.
"I was just ..." she began, then her emotions caught up with her. She grabbed her jacked and ran out into the street ... into the mist. Sobbing.
In his anguish, Wesley realized that Amy was going through the exact torment. Alienation from her friends. Feelings of utter despair. I've done it again – failed to trust the people around me.
He ran after Amy and grabbed her arm. She yanked it away. "Leave me alone!" she cried. "You don't ... don't know ... how lonely it is. Willow was a close friend ... and she's turning her back on me. I want to help people. Magics are the only gift I have ..." She knelt on the cobblestone road and cried. "My curse!"
Wesley hugged her. "I was out of line. I'm sorry." She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. "I'm soo sorry. Believe me, I know exactly how you feel." Here, on this misty street in some nameless Southampton town, no one – not Buffy, not Angel, not anyone – could understand the need for friends better than Wesley and Amy.
"There's a pizza parlour around the corner," Wesley suggested, "We'll order a big pizza – extra cheese – get warmed up. Then we'll go back to the inn and plot our strategy. The Watcher's Council doesn't know who they're messing with. A tough-as-nails witch ..."
Amy laughed "... and a rebel watcher on a quest for justice!" They dashed down the street.
Melissa Thorne, MI5 agent, peered at them from her car. "Are you sure you can trust them, Mr. Giles?"
"We're going to need as much help as we can," Giles answered. Their car zoomed away to the rendezvous point – a beach along the coast. The paratroopers must have scrambled by now, he thought.
[Country manor, Southampton, dawn]
The chairman licked his fingers. I loove extra spicy chicken. He pulled out the macaroni salad ... and emptied it into the cauldron.
Thomas protested. "But I thought you wanted the large-size one?"
The chairman slapped him on the back. "It's exactly what I want. There's an ingredient in the special sauce that fits this spell.
Another watcher chomped on a drumstick. "How's this spell gonna give us England in a handbasket, again?"
"I told you already," the chairman muttered – impatiently. "Mind control. We'll have the PM pass a law abolishing the monarchy."
Richard, the watcher whose nose Wesley almost broke, mumbled in the chairman's ear. "Without the lily, we won't know where to find the Grail."
Thomas' eyebrow raised. Grail? He knew the chairman was slightly obsessed with Arthurian legends. But the Holy Grail. It's a myth. A medieval fairy tale.
A phone rang. The chairman answered. "Yes. Yes. You're certain. Very good."
The watcher with the drumstick drank his cola. "What's up?"
"Gentlemen," the watcher announced. "We know where the lily is. By midday tomorrow, the House of Windsor will be little more than a minor footnote in history! We leave at once!!"
For the first time, Thomas felt nervous about the chairman's plans.
[Early morning, a meadow near a ruined abbey, Southampton]
Wesley sneezed. "My allergies!" He sneezed louder.
"I noticed something yesterday here, but we were a little busy with the watchers."
Wesley read the Latin inscription on the crumbled abbey gate. "It says: 'That which he used to seal the covenant with his brothers lies herein'" The local townsfolk said this abbey was the ancestral home of a Knight of the Round Table.
Amy sat down in front of a patch of weeds. There, amidst the dew-tipped grasses and weeds, grew a white flower with a purple centre. There was no other flower in the meadow like it.
"By the heavens," Wesley crossed himself, "Living proof that Joseph of Arimathea, the follower of Christ, arrived on these shores." He remembered the Latin motto on the abbey. "... which he used to seal the covenant ... which He used ... covenant with this brothers ...". He repeated the lines over again.
"You've got this Sherlock-Holmes-elementary-my-dear sparkle in your eye, Wes. Well??"
"The lily is important, but not a goal in itself. The lily is a means to an end. No. Oh no."
"Wesley? Spit it out!"
"The chairman wants to find the lily ... so he can find the Holy Grail! The Grail!!"
No wonder he said, 'oh no', Amy thought. Wesley opened an urn and scooped out the lily at its roots, clumped with a mound of dirt. He handed the urn to her.
"You must hang onto this. Whatever the cost."
"Ohmigod!" Amy waved her hands. "Oh my god! It's a the-world-is-at-stake situation, isn't it."
"Promise me you'll hang onto this urn at any price. No matter what happens to me, or anyone else who comes after it." He shoved the urn into Amy's hands. "Promise me!"
"Okay, okay! Hang onto it. No matter what."
Wesley looked across the meadow, opened his knapsack and pulled out a dagger. He slipped the dagger into his belt and shouldered a long axe. He marched ahead. "Run. Now."
Amy looked. Great, the watchers from yesterday's skirmish arrived. They brought a few friends. And plenty of swords.
Wesley began to sprint. "For god's sake, run, Amy Madison! Run!!!" He yelled as he lifted the axe.
Amy ran. This little flower ... this lily ... was a sign of life. Proof of faith. She cuddled the urn and began to run. If I'm to make a difference, now is the day. She closed her eyes. Magic time ...