Wesley was impressed by the enormity of Cordelia's house and the security that surrounded it. She had called ahead to the guard at the gate to let them know she was on her way. When the guard ushered them through, she began pointing out different houses where her friends lived. Her stream of consciousness worried Wesley, and he made a mental note to work on her concentration skills.
An uncomfortable feeling knotted in his stomach as he steered the car up the driveway to what was one of the biggest houses in the gated community. It occurred to him that Cordelia was the daughter of very prominent citizens in Sunnydale, and that it was his job to put her in mortal danger.
"Cordelia," he began as he put the car in park, "have you thought about what you'll tell your parents about your late-night outings?"
"Are you kidding me?" She asked. "They barely acknowledge me when I'm in the house. My dad only verifies my existence by paying the credit card bills. So trust me when I tell you that this is a non-issue."
Satisfied, Wesley nodded and opened his car door. Cordelia hopped out of the car before he had a chance to assist her.
"I wish you would have let me get that for you," he said, slightly bothered.
"The chivalry thing is nice, but I'm kind of used to doing things my own way," she told him with a bright smile on her face. "C'mon, I'll take you down to the basement."
Wesley held a hand up. "One moment. We need weapons if we're going to train. And I can't very well train you wearing a suit." He walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out a large clunky bag and a small black bag. Seeing that Wesley was straining beneath the weight of the large bag, she nabbed the smaller bag from him.
"Need help?" she asked.
"No, no. I've got it," He said with a strain in his voice. "Lead the way."
As Wesley expected, the Chase basement was not like other basements. It had been converted into a gym, complete with a mirrored wall and bright lights.
"Certainly not your typical basement," he said, dropping the bag on the floor.
"Well, we don't really need a basement. Our gardener has his own shed, and the maid has her closets, so Mom thought this should be a gym," Cordelia shrugged as she placed the lighter bag on a nearby hook in the wall.
Wesley nodded. "Yes, well...is there anywhere I can change?"
"Sure. You can use the bathroom right through that door." She pointed to the far side of the room. She started up the stairs, but paused half way up. "I'll be back in a few, OK?"
Wesley raised his hand in a permission of sorts, paired with a curt nod, but he knew that Cordelia wasn't asking his permission. She was telling him what she was going to do.
Wesley picked up his bag and went into the bathroom to change. The room was white, with only a shower stall, toilet and sink. He expected something more lavish from Cordelia's family, given what he had seen of the rest of the house.
He looked at himself in the mirror and began to undress, taking a deep breath and trying his hardest to steady his shaking hands. Cordelia was his first Slayer, and he was about to teach her to fight for her very life. He whispered a silent prayer to whoever was listening that he would teach her well. The Council had placed quite a bit of confidence in him, and he was determined not to fail.
Slipping his shoes off, and taking his sneakers out of his bag, Wesley began talking to himself. "The first thing I'll need to do is give her the books and tell her where to begin to read. Second..."
Three loud knocks interrupted his train of thought.
"Hey, Wesley, what are you doing in there? Let's get started," Cordelia shouted through the door.
"Um, just...just a moment," he stammered, buttoning his pants and remembering to check the zipper. He grabbed his sneakers and opened the door to find Cordelia standing in the doorway, arms folded across her stomach.
"And they say women take their time getting ready," she remarked.
Wesley closed the door behind him and sat on a nearby weight bench. As he put his shoes on, he said, "I was thinking."
Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "Thinking."
"Thinking." Wesley repeated to Cordelia. He paused and looked up at her. "It's what some people do before taking action."
Cordelia uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips, revealing her bare midriff. Wesley swallowed hard.
"Who do I look like, Harmony? There is a brain underneath this finely maintained exterior."
Wesley stood up and looked at Cordelia, smiling. "I was making a joke. As I recall, you did tell me to 'look into getting a sense of humor'. Let's get started, shall we?"
Cordelia shrugged and followed Wesley to the large black bag. He extracted several dangerous-looking weapons and a large wooden box with a gold lock on the front. From his pocket, Wesley produced a gold key and opened the box, pulling out a thick brown book with the word "Vampyr" emblazoned across the bottom.
"This is your text. Please have the first five chapters read by tomorrow. We'll discuss your reading during patrol tomorrow night."
"So, I've got this in addition to my regular homework. What am I going to do about cheerleading practice? Or a social life? I have obligations," she told Wesley angrily.
"Yes, I understand that. Obviously, your schoolwork is top priority, but I must remind you that being the Slayer is a sacred birthright, not an after school club. Certain sacrifices have to be made."
"Certain sacrifices?" She half asked, half shouted. "I've been head cheerleader a lot longer that I've been a Slayer. I am the apex of the pyramid! You cannot tell me that I have to cut cheerleading."
Wesley sighed. "Very well. You'll just have to learn for yourself." He turned back to the bag, pulled out several pads and began strapping them to his body. When he was done, he turned to face Cordelia, standing with his feet shoulder width apart and his hands, which had become fists, poised at chest level.
"Wesley, what are you doing?" Cordelia asked with a laugh.
"I'm going to teach you hand-to-hand combat," Wesley said with resolve.
Cordelia laughed again. "You look silly."
Wesley straightened himself and placed his hands by his side. "Cordelia, you have to be serious. Now, I command you to hit me."
He reassumed his position as Cordelia smiled sardonically at him. Shrugging, she positioned herself in a similar, albeit more graceful, stance. Her heart rate quickened and to her surprise, she was suddenly very excited at the prospect of a fight. Without thinking, she threw a punch that Wesley blocked fairly easily, then spun around and kicked out at Wesley's padded chest. He caught her leg mid-kick.
"Wesley, let go!" Cordelia exclaimed.
"You're not thinking your actions through," Wesley replied calmly, continuing to hold Cordelia's leg mid-air. "You can't flail about wildly just because you've become endowed with new strength."
"I wasn't...flailing," Cordelia said disappointedly.
"Cordelia, you looked like something out of a bad martial arts movie," Wesley told her as he let go of her leg. "Now. This time, I want you to concentrate on where you think my weak spots are, and what you think my next move may be."
"At the same time?"
Wesley sighed as he readied himself. "Yes, at the same time."
Cordelia mirrored his actions. "Well, you first this time."
"Very well," Wesley said as he lunged toward Cordelia. Taken by surprise, she shrieked and ducked, spontaneously taking out his knee and bringing him to the floor. She put her hand on his chest to keep him from getting up.
"Now, how do I kill you?" She asked excitedly.
"Pardon?"
"If you were a vampire, how would I kill you?"
Disbelief washed over Wesley's face. "You don't know? Haven't you ever seen old vampire movies?"
"Well of course I have. But it's a movie. It's fake."
"Actually, they're based in truth. The Watcher Diaries from the early part of the century chronicle Nigel Whitting, a member of the Council who consulted the movie studios on matters of the supernatural," Wesley said, quite impressed with his own knowledge.
"Wow...a stake through the heart will do it, huh?"
"Yes. As well as sunlight, beheading, and holy water."
"So if I had a stake in my hand right now, and you were a vamp, you would be dead," Cordelia inquired, her eyes glittering.
"Vampires traditionally are very quick and very strong. The Slayer must always be one step ahead," Wesley replied worriedly.
"But let's just say...."
"Theoretically, yes. If I were a vampire, I would be dead."
Cordelia jumped up and pulled Wesley up off of his back.
"So let's stop being all theoretical. Teach me how to kill something already."
"Your enthusiasm is quite refreshing. We've never had someone so eager," Wesley said as he pulled his padding off.
"Really?" asked Cordelia, sounding rather shocked.
"Yes, really. Some Slayers have been so obstinate, they wouldn't train until members of their family were killed."
"By the Council?" she asked, even more shocked.
Wesley looked at Cordelia blankly. "Vampires. They find out who the Slayer is and quickly. They want her gone. They want you gone."
Cordelia blinked. "So it's a good thing I agreed to this so quickly."
Wesley pulled two stakes out of his weapons bag. "Precisely."
"So—are you going to teach me to use or stake or do I just get to stand around here and watch you fondle it?"
Wesley dropped the stakes to the floor and began stuttering. "I, uh, I, erm..."
As he picked them up, Cordelia laughed and straightened her ponytail. She watched him with a raised eyebrow as he smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt.
Composing himself, he grasped the stake in his hand and handed one over to Cordelia. "The correct posture is like so, to give yourself leverage." Wesley had planted his feet firmly onto the ground, his knees slightly bent. "Then, with your elbow bent, quickly—but with force—plunge and withdraw."
Cordelia copied Wesley, repeating 'plunge and withdraw' after him. Growing bored, she decided to strike up a conversation.
"Have you ever done it before?"
In the middle of a plunge, Wesley began coughing wildly. Cordelia dropped her stake and began hitting him on the back.
"Wes, are you OK? I'll get some water." She dashed to the bathroom and came back with a glass. He drank it down and calmed himself.
"Thank you," he said when the coughing had subsided.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would upset you like that. After all, you're a Watcher. I just assumed you'd killed vampires before," Cordelia said, taking the glass away.
Wesley breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I thought you were asking about something else."
Cordelia's eyes grew wide. "You thought I was asking you...about that? I've barely even known you for a whole day!"
Wesley nodded. "Exactly! Imagine my surprise..."
"Gutterbrain!" Cordelia interrupted. "I was concentrating on staking and wondering if you have staked any yourself. Eww!" She turned her back to put the glass back where she had found it.
"Two," Wesley replied calmly when Cordelia had come back into the room.
"What?" Cordelia asked, still mired in her own shock.
"I've staked two vampires. It was under controlled circumstances, of course, during my training at The Watcher's Academy."
Cordelia sat down on the floor, crossed her legs and picked up her dropped stake. "What's it like?"
A smile spread across Wesley's face as he sat down beside her. "Quite exhilarating, actually, knowing that you've helped decrease the world's vampire population."
"But how do you know that those two that you killed haven't already bitten at least two people each? Now there are four more vampires running around out there."
The smile on Wesley's face disappeared. "I don't. The only way to be sure is to kill them as soon as they've risen."
"What's the point if they just keep making more?"
He looked at her confused expression, and then took her by the hand. "You are both protector and warrior. You kill to protect the human race. If we just let them continue to sire more vampires, and don't fight back, they will take over. This world will no longer be our own, and that wouldn't be right, now would it?"
It was Cordelia's turn to smile. "No, I guess it wouldn't."
He let go of her hand and sighed. "I think that's enough for today. Read the chapters tonight and I'll meet you here tomorrow around seven for patrol."
The Watcher stood and pulled his Slayer to her feet. She zipped up his weapons bag as he collected his clothes from the bathroom. When he returned, they stood in silence for a few moments.
"Do you need me to drive you back to the school to retrieve your car?"
"No," said Cordelia, the agitation in her voice evident. "The dealer called this morning and said that it would be a few more days. I had to catch a ride to school with Harmony and her brother. Humiliating."
"Why is your car at the dealership?"
"Ugh, it's a long story involving a bicycle."
"I guess some things are better left to the imagination," Wesley said with a smile as he headed for the staircase. "I'll see you tomorrow night, then."
Cordelia waved and watched him leave. She stood in the middle of the room holding a stake in her hand, her skin humming with excitement, as she listened for the sound of the back door closing and Wesley's car driving away. Only then did she leave the basement. She crossed the kitchen and walked up the stairs toward her bedroom. She stopped outside of her parent's bedroom door with her hand on the doorknob, thinking for a moment that she might go in and talk to her mother. She decided against it and walked further down the hall to her own room.
Once inside, she breathed deeply. This was her sanctuary, her private domain where only a select few were invited. Cordelia loved this room; loved the way the burgundy walls gave her the feeling that she was being hugged. She closed her bedroom door and walked over to her dresser, where she hid the stake in her top drawer. She began taking her hair down, and could still feel the energy running through her from the short sparring match she'd had with Wesley.
She paced around the room restlessly, debating her options. She could turn the radio on and dance, but she didn't want to wake her mother. She also entertained the idea of going back down to the basement and training by herself, but realized she really needed a partner to hit.
The idea suddenly hit her. "Bronze," she breathed out quietly. She rushed over to her closet and threw the doors open, pulling out a sparkly black dress. "Haven't worn you in quite a while," she said as she smiled at the dress. She was going dancing after all.
Wesley drove home in agony. His knees and back were sore from Cordelia taking him down earlier, but it was his heart that gave him the most trouble. Sitting there on the floor with her, holding her hand and consoling her fears—it would have been so easy and given him he greatest pleasure to just lean over and kiss her. But his sense of honor and duty kept him from it.
He sighed audibly, and then began berating himself for his unsavory thoughts. "I am her Watcher! It is my responsibility to teach her to protect the human race. I do not have the liberty of courting her affections!"
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel and immediately withdrew it, yelling and shaking his hand in pain.
The rest of Wesley's drive was spent flipping through the radio stations in an attempt to steer his thoughts away from Cordelia. He found that the drive from her home to his apartment was remarkably short, only ten minutes.
When he opened the door to his apartment, he switched on the light and sighed. It felt awfully cold and lonely, especially after having such a lovely time with Cordelia. He thought the first training session went very well, considering it was so short.
He placed his bags on the couch and walked over to his desk. He threw his keys in a bowl on top and picked up a framed photograph of himself holding hands with a woman. They were both smiling.
"Ah, Miranda. If you could see me now..." he trailed off. Actually, he didn't want Miranda to see him now. His first two day s on assignment, and he was smitten with his Slayer. Disappointing, indeed.
Wesley looked at his watch. It was time for bed, but he wasn't sleepy. There was no point in lying in bed when he knew sleep wouldn't come. He flipped through the diary on his desk, but decided that he could wait until he could be more levelheaded about the time he had just shared with Cordelia. Couldn't go on about her hair in the official Watcher's Diary.
He hoped some tea would help him relax, so he walked into his small kitchen and put some water to boil. While waiting, Wesley began looking through the still-unpacked boxes in his apartment. Eventually, he came up with his dartboard, which he promptly hung on the wall nearest his kitchen.
In the middle of a bulls-eye streak, Wesley heard the kettle and laid his darts down. Coming back from the kitchen, he stared at the diary still sitting on his desk.
Drumming his fingers on the side of his cup, he nodded as if to agree with himself.
"Right. The Diaries. Must get right to it," he said, and then took a sip from his cup.