A/N Hope you guys are all still reading this. Aren't real life and grown up responsibilities so much fun? I promise I'll try to better in the future. And I am reposting this chapter after fixing the formatting and the typos, which I did at work with a tool better suited than notepad!

Facing Demands

**************

Gunn glared at his "boss" from across the room, unbelieving of the situation that they were now in. The young man could not believe that Angel had put them in this position in the first place, never mind that he was now risking Fred's life by preventing Gunn from taking her to the hospital.

Fred could die and it would be Angel's fault.

Gunn looked at the girl he had fallen for, the girl he . . . he couldn't lose her. He wouldn't lose her. And he has a good idea who would know how to save her. He just needed to find a way to get there.

And when Groo started to hack into the ballroom floor, he provided just the sort of distraction that Gunn needed.

* * * * *

Wes stepped off of the back of his bike, and accepted the helmet that Faith held out to him as she shook out her hair.

He really only used to use the bike when he needed to clear his head and feel empty. Feel free. But then Connor happened, and the bike was once again his only vehicle, as it had been when he had ridden it into Los Angeles. And riding it now had taken on quite a different meaning. Especially with Faith on its back with him, wrapped around him. It turned the whole thing into something else entirely. It was no longer a place to escape the demons that chased him. But it was still a place that he wanted to be. Perhaps too much. And therein lay the problem.

These thoughts occupied the former watcher's mind as they made their way back up to his apartment

It wasn't until they reached their destination that he recalled exactly the reason for the trepidation that he felt running through his body.

Once the door that was now before him opened, and the pair passed through it, what would follow could send Faith running from him, abandoning her search for redemption. When she discovered that her chosen leader down that road had done irreprehensible things, things that even she, at her worst, would not have even thought of doing, what would she do? Would she turn from this path that she had set herself on? Would she leave him?

Wesley was shocked at the pang in his heart at the thought.

* * * * *

Once in the apartment, Faith began nervous preparations for tea. She hurried around the kitchen much like she had that first night.

It wasn't that she didn't want to hear what her watcher had to say. In fact, there was nothing she could think of that she wanted to hear more.

But it was his hesitation that affected her nerves, that prompted the agitated movements that propelled her around the kitchen. Whatever it was that he had to tell her, he was scared of it.

In fact, Faith was quite sure that he was terrified.

It was that that made her nervous. She was reacting to his feelings. She wasn't sure why she was doing it, though and it unnerved her.

Deciding that she was acting like a silly teenager and not liking it at all, Faith left the kettle to boil on the stove and went to the living room, where Wesley was rummaging around his desk. She assumed that he was trying to find the words to say what he needed to tell her.

"Wes?" She said as she approached, wanting to alert him to her presence. He turned to face her, abandoning the pointless shuffling that he had been doing with the papers on his desk.

She grabbed at his arm and dragged him over to the couch, pushing him to sit on the piece of furniture. She did it gently, but with enough force that he could broach no argument.

She sat on the table, facing him, seeing him slightly wince at the action. She half smiled at the look. No matter how much he had changed since that day back in the library at Sunnydale High, he was still always going to have that streak of British propriety running through him.

She put the thought aside and looked into her watcher's eyes.

"Listen, I know that whatever you have to tell me is hard. It's tough, and it cost you everything, and you think it's horrible. But it can't be worse that cold blooded murder. It can't. So tell me. Because I am not going anywhere. I've murdered people. In cold blood. And I tortured you." Wesley went to speak at that, but she stopped him. "But you haven't turned me away. There's nothing you can say that will make me leave. You're stuck with me, you know. I'm your slayer. That's not going to change." And that's when she began to wonder if he really wanted her there. What if he wanted her to go? "Unless, of course, you want me to leave . . ." Wesley shook his head at that, and she let out her held breath. '"Good, because I ain't that easy to get rid of."

She watched as a small measure of relief drifted into his eyes

"So, c'mon watcher man. Tell me what I want to hear?"

And, as Wesley opened his mouth to speak, two things happened at once. The kettle whistled loudly and a loud pounding began on his door.

* * * * *

Gunn stood there, facing the door he thought he would never see again. In fact, he almost turned away now.

If it wasn't for the thought that Wesley could help Fred, that Gunn was sure that his former friend was her only shot, he would have been walking away right now, his patience at waiting for his knock to be answered wearing thin. He knew that the man was there. He had heard the kettle whistle and then stop.

In fact, Gunn was just about to knock again, or just kick the door in, when it was suddenly yanked inward.

And there Wesley stood, looking as though he had trod through hell and had yet to make it back. He looked rough.

And once upon a time, Gunn would have cared.

Once.

But not now. Now he had other concerns.

The powerful street fighter strode past Wesley and into the apartment with barely a glance at the man.

"I need your help."

* * * * *

Faith couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. Gunn. Charles.

The man couldn't even come inside the hospital that first day. He didn't even care that Wesley, a man he had called friend, had nearly died.

And now he was here, in Wesley's apartment, asking, no, make that demanding, his help.

How in the world did he figure that he had that right? After all, not one of those people had even made a phone call to check on Wesley since Faith had been with him. Not one. Not even Cordelia, who used to fall all over him, to Faith's recollection. None of them.

Faith so wanted to storm out into the living room, pick the guy up by whatever appendage she could get her hands on, and physically throw him out of the apartment. The muscles in her ached for it, tried to drive her towards just such an action.

But she stayed where she was. Where Wesley had put her after they had seen to the screaming kettle. There had been a silent pleading in his eyes for her to remain silent, to stay hidden, a secret. At least for now. Good thing he didn't know that Gunn had already met his "cousin", and wouldn't have been all that surprised to see her here.

It was one of the hardest things that she had ever had to do in her life, to stay there, fighting her instincts, and just listen. It didn't even occur to her to wonder why she was that protective of Wesley. He was her watcher, she his slayer. That's just the way it worked. At least that's what she told herself as she continued to listen to the event unfolding in the living room.

A/N I know, I know! You guys want to know how he'll tell her, but my muse just wanted me to drag it out a little longer. :) Maybe if you feed the feedback monster, it'll help? It's worth a try.