During the ride home, Cordelia was silent. She had a million emotions running through her and she wasn't quite sure which one to go with. First, she was angry. If her father had just let her drive her car, she would not been standing outside the school when that Wesley guy walked onto campus. And what kind of school just lets a guy walk on campus, anyway? And oh, that Wesley! Who did he think he was, just traipsing up to her, Cordelia, the Queen of Sunnydale High School, and speaking to her?

Then the curiosity struck her. What was Wesley talking about? She definitely wanted to call him, and find out all she could about her being the so-called "Chosen One". Somehow she knew he wasn't just making it all up. If what he said was true, that would explain her super high kicks and flips at cheerleading practice for the last week. It was as if some force had propelled her.

When she got home, she locked her bedroom door and began pacing.

"Why did I walk toward him? Oh, that's right. I can't keep my hormones under control." She stopped when she looked in the mirror and realized she was talking to herself. She rolled her eyes and sighed. Only losers talked out loud to themselves. And Cordelia Chase was no loser.

She looked at the clock. 3:30pm. He had only given her his number thirty minutes ago, and she was already anxious to call him. Her personal policy was not to call until at least 24 hours after receiving a phone number, on the odd chance that a guy would give her a phone number. More often than not, guys were clamoring for her number.

She took the card out of her purse and paced a few more times across her bedroom floor. She placed the card on her nightstand and attempted to read her homework assignments, but she kept looking over at the card. Not able to stand it any longer, Cordelia threw her textbook on the bed and picked up her phone. She dialed Wesley's number and waited.

Rrrrrring. Rrrrrring. Rrrrrring.

Apparently, she and Wesley shared the belief that you shouldn't answer before the third ring.

"Hello?" Wesley answered, sounding slightly annoyed.

"And here I was thinking you wanted me to call you. If you're not interested, I could just hang up and get on with my life..."

"No, no! Miss Chase, I apologize. I was in the middle of research. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"I guess I can forgive you. Listen, I've been staring at your number for almost an hour now, and I have to say that my curiosity has finally gotten the best of me." She stood up and began pacing again.

"I'm quite pleased that you would call so soon. Given the response I received from you earlier, I assumed you would not wish to speak to me again." He sounded just the tiniest bit nervous.

"Why is your voice shaking?" Cordelia asked, faux-innocently.

"I, uh, wasn't going to tell you this until we had gotten to know one another better, but I'm a first-time Watcher. Since I graduated the Academy, I've been involved in several research assignments, but never actually given charge of a Slayer. Not even a Potential Slayer."

"Yeah, none of that really makes any sense to me, but I get where you're coming from. It's like your first day on active duty," she added helpfully, because Cordelia was not in the business of being helpful.

"That's what the Council calls it, as well," Wesley said, and then coughed nervously. "We need to get to the issue at hand...."

"Fine. I have a few questions for you." She said resolutely, changing the tone of the conversation.

"But..."

"No. No buts. I will ask the questions and you will answer them, or I'm hanging up."

"If you must."

"Yes, I must," she said with a smile before changing back to Queen C. "Now just who do you think you are, walking up to me on campus? Do you know who I am?"

"If I may interrupt...."

"No you may not interrupt. I am still talking." This guy was going to have to learn, and learn fast. You don't just talk to Cordelia Chase any way you wanted.

"In my defense, Ms. Chase..."

"Hello? You are not listening, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce! Still speaking here! Now, I want to know how on earth you knew who I was and how to find me?"

Silence on the other end of the line. She listened. She couldn't even make out breathing.

"Wesley? Are you there? I asked you a question."

"Really? I wasn't sure if I was allowed to speak yet."

Cordelia thought she heard a hint of sarcasm in his voice. She decided to strike back. "I asked you a question, didn't I?"

"As I told you earlier, Ms. Chase..." She cut him off.

"Stop with the Ms. Chase stuff, OK? It was cute for like a half-second, but now it's old. My name is Cordelia."

"Very well, then, Cordelia. As I told you earlier, the Watcher's Council has sent me to train you as the new Slayer." He was so calm and spoke almost as if he was telling her the simplest thing.

"You have a whole council? And how did they get my name?" Cordelia asked, questions springing to her mind faster than she could speak.

"The Council is not mine; I work for them. And they know the Slayer and all the Potential Slayers. Once a year, a spell is performed, and names of the Potentials are brought forth from the Powers."

"A spell? Like a magic spell? You're kidding, right?" Cordelia asked suspiciously.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Cordelia, but magic is real. Very real." He answered all of her questions with the same tone, and he was suddenly very authoritative.

"Well, who are these Powers? And why did they choose me?" The more he spoke, the more questions she had.

"They are the spirits that guide our lives."

"But, I don't understand."

"Cordelia, maybe it would be best if you and I could meet and talk face to face about this."

Cordelia smirked, knowing he was asking her out. "Um, sure, I guess. I'm going to the Bronze later, to meet some friends. We could talk there."

"What is the Bronze?"

"It's a club where everyone hangs out."

"I don't necessarily think a club is the best place to talk. Maybe something more.... intimate?" This comment made Cordelia raise one of her eyebrows.

"What makes you think that I would go somewhere alone with you now if I wouldn't earlier? It's the Bronze or nothing."

"Give me the directions," Wesley said wearily.

"It's downtown, and there's no way you can miss it. it's a huge metal building with a sign on the front that says "Bronze"."

"Well, with those directions, how could I not see it?" Wesley remarked sarcastically.

"Very funny. Listen, it's not that hard. We don't have a lot of town here."

"And what time will you be there?" He inquired expectantly.

"Eightish? I've got homework."

"By all means. Your schoolwork should be your highest priority behind your duty as Slayer."

"Thanks, Dad," Cordelia said with an edge in her voice.

Wesley began to stutter. "I...I don't mean to echo your father's sentiment...by no means would I imply..."

Cordelia smiled. "Wesley, it's OK. I was making a joke. I'll see you there, OK?"

"Very well," he said, calming down.

She was about to say goodbye when a thought sprung to mind. "Oh, and Wes?"

"Yes, Cordelia?"

"Don't wear a stuffy old suit, OK?"

Wesley sat alone at a table in the Bronze. He looked at his watch. 8:30. True, she had said 'eightish', and she did have homework, but he couldn't see any reason why she should be so late. He was beginning to believe she wasn't going to show.

He'd known girls like her before. He may have attended an all-male school in England, but there were times when they were allowed on weekends to go into London. Wesley had his share of pretty girls break his heart.

Girls like Cordelia were too beautiful for their own good, wielding their power like a sword; cutting and slicing the lesser of the species to pieces. Just then, he saw her walk in. Smiling at those who won her favor, frowning disdainfully at those who did not. Watching her walk, he had to remind himself to continue breathing.

"Hold yourself together, man!" He said to himself. "No reason to dig up old wounds."

He recalled something his father, himself a Watcher, had told Wesley at the beginning of his training.

"Just as there are no two people in this world, there are also no two Slayers who are the same. Yes, they are mortals, just as were are, but they are special. They reside on a higher plane than the rest of us; physically, mentally, and emotionally superior to the rest of the human race. As a Watcher, it is your sacred duty to harness the power your Slayer will possess; train her to use her power to protect herself and mankind from the darkness."

How right his father was. Certainly there was no one in this, or any other, world that came close to Cordelia Chase. He just sat there watching her, and suddenly her head turned and their eyes connected. She smiled that million-pound smile and all he managed was a meek little grin and a sad little wave of his hand.

"Be a man!" He heard his father say in the back of his mind. But for the moment, he wasn't going to let his father worry him. He stood up as she walked toward him, hoping that he wouldn't trip while standing still or drop something on her. He looked down at his clothing, silently praying that what he had chosen would meet her approval.

"Not bad," she began. "Though I think I'd prefer the sleeves rolled up."

"Oh," he said nervously as he began to roll his sleeves.

She cocked her head sideways and sat, took a sip from the straw in her soda, and looked at him curiously.

"You do everything people tell you to?"

He thought for a moment, and then spoke. "Actually, no. I think it's the crowd and the noise putting me on edge a bit." He sat down, in a chair opposite Cordelia.

"So...tell me about this Slayer thing I've supposedly been called into. Why did they choose me? How did they choose me? It's not like I don't have other things to do."

"Unfortunately, the Council doesn't know how the Powers choose the Slayers. We only know who they are once they have been born." Wesley didn't think he was doing a very good job of answering Cordelia's questions.

"Wait a sec. Are you telling me that this Council received a heads up the day I was born?"

"No, that's not quite correct. Remember that earlier I told you that the spell was performed once a year? On that day, the Powers give us the names of all the Potential Slayers that have been born within that year. We then create a file on each name, and when it is time for a new Slayer to be called, we pull her file and set out to make contact." He straightened his back, hoping to exude half of Cordelia's confidence.

She took another sip from her drink and sat quietly for a moment, pondering what he had just told her. Wesley took a sip from his drink, hoping to cool his body temperature. Finally, she spoke.

"So, there's like, a lineage?" Cordelia asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

"And how did my name come up?" She was afraid of the answer.

Wesley sighed and took another drink from his glass. "For a new Slayer to be called, the current Slayer has to die."

"And how long does a Slayer live?"

"It all depends on the Slayer, and how well she uses the resources around her."

Cordelia cast him a hard look. "Listen, if you're going to dally around, I'm out of here. I have people to see. So either be straight with me or find yourself another Slayer."

Wesley's answer had a slight stutter. "There...there have been slayers who, who have lived to marry, while others have never seen the age of twenty."

Cordelia exhaled. "So you're saying my expiration date is a little shorter than I thought."

This was his chance and he knew it. This could be the moment to completely win her over, to help her accept her destiny. He swallowed and began to speak. "Cordelia, every person who has been born will someday die. Wouldn't it be far greater to die fighting against the dark forces than to die having lived a life of mediocrity?"

Cordelia leaned forward and played with the rim of her glass. "Tell me again what a Slayer does." At least she was curious, and not completely put off by what he had said, even though her tone suggested she was not weighing the consequences of her life, but debating which pair of shoes to purchase.

"It is a sacred birthright, Cordelia, not an after-school job," Wesley said, slightly annoyed that she was still in need of convincing after his motivating speech.

"Ok, then. Goodbye. Good luck with your new Slayer," Cordelia snapped as she got up from her seat.

Realizing he was losing her, he spoke hastily, and a little too loudly. The Council would not have been pleased at him raising his voice. "A Slayer destroys the powers of darkness. She is the protector of humanity."

Cordelia took her seat wearing a victorious grin. "You mean I'm going to maim and kill evil stuff?"

"To put it so simplistically, yes. That is what you have been born to do."

"Kill vampires and other evil beings...thingies."

"Yes, that is your destiny." He held his breath, waiting for her to say something. Anything. He watched her sitting there, thinking. Suddenly, her grin widened and it looked as if she was going to laugh.

"Cool!"

"I beg your pardon?" He had heard of Slayers completely resisting the idea, or accepting their fate with confusion or half-hearted reluctance, but never excitement.

"Yeah. I mean, I've always known that I was special, me being me and all, but who knew I was actually chosen to save the world? That's pretty big. Harmony is going to freak when I tell her."

"Absolutely not! You mustn't tell anyone. The Slayer and her Watcher work in secret. Anyone outside of that circle who knows of your duty is placed in mortal danger." He hoped he had finally impressed upon her the seriousness of her calling.

"Hold on. So I'm doing this great thing, but no one knows besides you and me? That is such a line!"

"Excuse me? That is most certainly not a line. If you want your friends put in harm's way, then by all means, please make an announcement at school over the Public Address System!"

"Oh, calm down, you big drama queen. How was I supposed to know? It's not there's a handbook or anything."

Wesley's face brightened. "Actually, there is a Slayer Handbook, and several other volumes that you are required to read, as part of your training as well vigorous physical training."

"I'm head cheerleader, so I have no problem in getting physical."

His heart rate jumped, as he was sure that her words hid her true meaning. Before he could say anything, she was speaking again.

"Now—where do we find these volumes? Wait. Don't tell me. They're back at your apartment, right?" She had a smirk on her face.

Hoping to gain her trust, Wesley decided on neutral territory. "Why don't I bring them to you after school tomorrow? We can begin your, um, physical training as well."

"Meet me in the parking lot tomorrow afternoon after practice. I'll have my car back, and I can take you to my house. We have a gym in the basement."

"And your parents?" His heart was beating faster again.

"Oh, my mom won't know we're there. She stays in bed all day. The doctor says Epstein-Barr, but we all know it's chronic fatigue. And anyway, my dad's leaving for Switzerland tomorrow morning. Some business conference. So our little secret will be safe."

"It's good to hear that you're so serious about your calling."

"Besides, you'll be on my turf, and if you try anything, I'll kill you." That smile spread across her face again.

"Who.... What?" He hated it when he stammered. He sounded like a blithering schoolboy.

She laughed as she stood up. Wesley stood up as well, hoping to act like the gentleman his mother had taught him to be.

"Again. This is me making a joke," Cordelia said with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, look into getting a sense of humor."

"Yes, well," was all Wesley could come back with, managing a small smile.

They stood by the table for a few moments in uncomfortable silence, not really knowing what to say to one another. Finally, Cordelia broke the silence.

"So, I've got some friends waiting for me. Are you going to hang, or..."she trailed off.

"No, I'm going home," Wesley picked up. "I'm afraid I'm something of a sore thumb here.

Cordelia smiled. "Just slightly. See you tomorrow, Wes."

And then she was gone.