By Specks, Nina, and Ky
"So, my good man, how do you propose to approach our erstwhile charge and our former colleague?" Wesley inquired his hands tucked quite properly within the front two pockets of his gray tweed suit. He was standing stiffly, back ramrod straight as was per watcher conduct code. Looking down his nose at his partner, Wesley shuddered at Angel's posture. Against the backdrop of the shadowy high school, Angel was leaning languidly at the hand railing, playing with his pocket watch.
It irked him to no end that this poor model of a watcher had been sent along to correct any blunders he may make due to his lack of experience. As though HE, Wesley Wyndaham Pryce, needed any sort of guidance on his duties as Watcher. Bah! Ludicrous! Granted Angel was descended from a line of watcher far more prestigious than he, but it did not mean Angel was superior. It was clear the he, Wesley, was of far better caliber of watcher. One had but simply to look at the two of them tonight to determine that.
Angel's shirt was un-tucked and hanging an untidy mess; he had the sleeves rolled up, AND he was wearing LEATHER pants. He, on the other hand, had pressed his suit an hour before they'd ventured out. His hair was impeccably groomed, and every article of clothing was in its proper place. Wesley smiled in satisfaction as he surveyed himself in the reflection of his pocket watch; he was most assuredly the superior between he and Angel. After all, one didn't become head boy by being sloppy OR wearing leather.
There was no doubt in his mind that once The Slayer was correctly informed of her proper place, she would settle down and follow orders from him. After all, it was stated clearly in The Slayer handbook, paragraph 13, verse 6: "A Slayer would behoove herself to obey her watcher as a watcher is the warrior and the slayer the weapon which a Watcher directs to whatever end-"
"Pryce!"
Angel broke into his reveries just as he was about to delve into the more interesting aspects of The Slayer handbook. It was quite clear the more experienced watcher had been waiting or rather speaking for quite some time.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Wesley apologized hastily in answer to the potent glare he was receiving for his inattention, "please do continue."
"I said it'll just be easier to say hi," Angel reiterated impatiently, stressing each syllable.
"I see," replied Wesley, looking ponderous. The truth of the matter was he did not see, he however, was not about to admit to such a shortcoming to someone that possessed Angel's terrible diction. Why the man quite simply refused to employ any of the civilized dialogue as befitting his watcher's status was beyond him. For an unfathomable reason, man insisted on compacting the most eloquently crafted ideals into one-sentenced idiosyncrasies.
"Bloody improper," muttered Wesley.
"What?" Angel was looking at him expectantly. Why was he looking at him expectantly? Why, a question in the proper tone hand not even been posed, not to mention the nightmare of the grammar. There was no help for it; he would simply have to clear up the conundrum.
"What exactly do you mean by 'what' Angel? Were you inquiring up on my muttering? Or was it my thought filled expression? Or was it-"
"Never mind Wesley," Angel interrupted, his patience obviously taxed, "Can we just go in?"
"Well," Wesley once again assumed his ponderous pose, "If you should ask my opinion, than certainly. However-"
"Fine, lets go," Angel once again interrupted.
The nerve of the man! The utter nerve! Angel may be senior watcher on this trip, but he, Wesley obviously had superior manners. It was because he felt the added need to employ said manners in the face of such brutish behavior, that Wesley did not object to angel's straightforward plan. Neither did he feel the need to utter an assent.
After all, it would have been rather ridiculous to reply as Angel was already through the double doors of the school. There was nothing for it. With a resigned sigh, Wesley trudged after the rapidly fading figure of his ill-mannered colleague.
Angel strode down the halls of Sunnydale high school with Wesley's lecturing voice trailing after him. With the exception of Wesley's voice everything else held an eerie quiet that was typical of such establishments after classes let out. Only every other light was lit to save electricity and the squeak of Wesley's shoes on the tiled floor echoed well into the darkness of the hall. It wasn't the sounds or the sights that alerted Angel to the presence of another, it was the smell. The air was thick with the smell of death, unnatural death, and that could only mean one thing. Vampire. Following the scent, he found himself outside of what looked to be a library entrance. Turning back, he found Wesley still babbling.
"As also per stated in The Slayer handbook, one's watcher is the commander… have you even been listening to what I have been trying to impart? Repeat to me what I just said," Wesley demanded.
Irritated by the younger watcher's idiocy, Angel opted to warn him, maybe it would shut him up, "There's something wrong."
There wasn't much more Angel could say to elaborate as Wesley quickly interrupted, "That's not what I said!"
Incensed, Wesley continued heedless of Angel's silencing motion, "You really must pay more attention to your surroundings, Angel! As state in chapter 6, verse 5 of The Watcher's handbook, "A Watcher must be ever vigilant in their duty for-"
Wesley's recitation was finished off with a high-pitched scream as a blur of red passed before him and knocked Angel to the ground. Realigning glasses thrown askew, Wesley's eyes slowly came into focus. What he saw caused him to illicit another scream from somewhere deep inside. Straddling Angel was a redhead vampire, her hands wrapped tightly around the other man's throat as she shockingly rocked her hips against Angel.
"Puppy, has been a very bad boy," she said while pouting.
Mustering all the courage he had accumulated in his few years as a Watcher, Wesley took out his Watcher handbook and smacked the vampire on the temple. Unfortunately the blow did not knock her out as he had hoped, instead he found himself suddenly under the attention of one very powerful creature. Forming fists, Wesley struggled for calm and promptly fainted.
Angel got to his feet just in time to see his attacker ready to sink her teeth into an unconscious Wesley. Mentally sneering at the fool's lack of gumption, he nevertheless thanked the PTBs for the intervention. It would make dealing with this threat a hell of a lot easier. Taking off at a run, Angel tackled his opponent, and brought the both of them crashing onto a table in what appeared to be the school library. Straddling the vampire, Angel raised the stake, but he was knocked over before he could lower the blow. Shaking his head and trying to get his bearings, Angel found his attacker to be an ordinary, brunette boy babbling at the redhead. He caught the words; yellow-crayon and found that the vampire's name was Willow.
She apparently knew the boy in life. The boy probably did not understand that this was not the Willow she appeared to be. Noting the red-haired vampire's preoccupation with the new arrival, Angel quickly grabbed a broken off table leg, and grabbed Willow around the neck. She glanced back at him in annoyance as he brought the stake down into her chest.
She gasped in surprise, and, "Bad, puppy!" were her last words.
Xander felt both grief and relief as his best friend was dusted by the strange gel-haired man. His mind couldn't begin to wrap around the fact that His Willow was nothing more than dust, so he did what Xander Harris did best. He got angry and took out that anger on the nearest person at hand. In this case, it was the man who had just dusted Willow.
"I was getting through to her!" Xander sputtered, "I didn't need your help!"
He would have continued, but Giles' very tired voice cut through his fury, "That is more than enough Xander. This man just saved your life, and ended an existence Willow would not have wished to continue."
Getting upset, Giles took off his glasses and wiped them as he continued to speak, "I apologize for my rudeness, you must be the new Watcher."
Angel nodded. Hundreds of years of being around humans had allowed him to detect the other watcher's grief under the British propriety. It would not be polite to speak as of now.
'Well then, I suppose you would wish…" the man named Giles trailed off as a redhead, identical to the one he'd just dusted save the lack of leather, walked in. Angel watched shock, wonder, and confusion chase across the old watcher's face. Then surprisingly abandoning all sense of propriety, nearly smothered the girl with his enthusiastic hug. He was preceded by an equally boisterous embrace from the boy named Xander. Making a visible effort to step away from the amazingly live girl whom Angel determined was Willow, Giles took off his glasses and wiped them once again, obviously embarrassed.
"K'…. Did you all happen to do a bunch of drugs?" The cheerful girl asked in response to the greeting.
Before anyone could speak or explain the situation, a distant scream sounded. To Angel's amazement, Wesley charged through the double doors, stake at the ready, heading towards the newly live girl. Moving quickly, Angel seized the younger watcher's collar and pulled, waiting as Wesley bucked wildly for a second or two before he realized what was going on. Letting him go once he stopped trying to murder the redhead, Angel turned to Giles.
"I'd like to apologize for my junior watcher, he still needs a bit of training. My name is Angel, and this is Wesley, we're the new watchers."
"I understand completely," replied Giles smoothly glossing over Wesley's sputtering, "as it seems I am the host, won't you have a spot of tea with me as I brief you on our situation."
"Thanks, I'd appreciate it. It would also be nice to finally meet The Slayer."
Giles looked his way, "I believe that can be arranged."
The scent of the slayer rode the wind up the stone edifice and over the lip of the mausoleum's flat roof. The dark folds of his duster billowed away from his powerful, sleek form and he was immersed in her scent – held under for a moment before he broke the surface and bathed in the essence of Her. His glower marred the perfection of his brow as he glared into the night, mahogany eyes flashing briefly gold. Grimly, he realized he could be blind and find this Buffy from the scent of her rage, spiced blood. Anxiety at the thought of meeting her thrilled through the ensouled vampire and Angel stepped easily from the roof of the two-story, stone structure, and dropped to the ground. He moved swiftly, flowing over the uneven ground and granite markers following her scent.
He came over a rise in time to see a vampire stalking a tiny, helpless-looking female, a mistake the hungry demon wouldn't live long to regret. He paused to watch her expression as she turned and spotted the other predator stalking her. Angel was fascinated at the look of beatific violence crossing her delicate features. The Slayer took a running leap over a head-stone and side-kicked the vampire in the ribs. The vamp fell face first to the ground and the tiny, blond warrior straddled it's back. Grabbing the demon by the hair, she pounded its face into the ground.
"Who turned her? Who turned Willow???"
Angel almost had a moment of pity for the vampire, when she flipped her prey over and continued pummeling it. He heard the cracking of bone as she viciously interrogated her victim. She was magnificent. Eyes glowing with uncontained rage, she continued hammering the vampire even though the he was obviously unconscious. Spattered in blood, chest heaving she pulled a stake from her sleeve and finished the vampire off.
Angel watched her raged turn to sorrow as she struggled up from the ground. Tears trembled in her wide, doe-like eyes and she gulped back a sob. Her small hand went up to cover her mouth, and she caught sight of the blood and dark matter covering her. She went to her knees, and let out a small, wretched sound before vomiting. Something clenched in his chest as he watched, and he felt compelled intercede. A moment ago, she was an avenging predator – a creature of golden violence. Now, she looked like an innocent, broken child and all he wanted to do was draw her into his arms to comfort her. Protect her.
He was surprised when she looked listlessly up and said, "Who the hell are you?"
Fisting his hands into the
deep pockets of his duster, he took a calming, deep breath,
"New Watcher."
He moved slowly forward and offered her a hand up ignoring the look of distrust she shot his way, "My name is Angel, and you must be Buffy."
Her small, warm hand grasped his, and he relished the feel of her heat. It was an electric touch, and from the look on her face, she was as surprised by it as he. Angel didn't realize how light she was, and pulled up hard enough so that she was flush against him. Enthralled by the warm press of her body, he stood in her heat for a long minute, before inner alarms went off and he stepped backwards.
She looked as helpless and confused as he felt. Angel watched as her confusion turned into something she seemed a little more comfortable with, anger. "Well, you got quite a show tonight," she said with a glare, "Nice first entry to your Watcher Diaries."
He did not answer, confused by her sudden wrath, and watched silently as she tried to wipe herself clean. A growl of frustration left her as she succeeded in smearing the blood and gore further into her skin and clothes. Tears began their silent trek down her cheeks and Angel abruptly understood. Being confronted with the savageness that was the slayer, of what she was truly capable of, had to be overwhelming. And, from her dialogue with the dusted vampire, she probably didn't know her friend was alive and well. It would be a lot for anyone to deal with.
"Willow isn't a vampire," he blurted out.
Buffy looked up at him in shock, "What?"
"Your friend Willow, she's not a vampire." Angel repeated gently, watching as the news registered.
"I saw her myself…"
Angel sighed, "You live on the hell mouth, stranger things have to have happened. Come back with me to the library and see for yourself."
She glowed with hope for a moment before turning a fierce look his way, "If you're wrong, I'm really going to be pissed."
TBC...
Home
