Chapter 2: A Hero is Born
"Admit it Wes, you like this girl," Michael lay on his back in the grass just outside the library, arms folded behind his head staring up at the clouds above. "Ooo that one looks like Slavark demon!"
"I do not," Wesley snapped back frowning up at the same clouds, "And that most certainly does not look like a Slavark demon. Where are the three pair of tentacles?"
"Turn you head to the side and squint…yep right there! Slavark demon!" Michael sat up victorious. "And you do like her. Wes, buddy, you're nearly 19 years old. Girls don't have cooties anymore."
"I don't want to talk about it, Michael," Wesley sat up on his elbows and squinted up at his friend.
"Just ask her out," Michael pressed.
"No thank you," Wesley pushed himself up to his feet. He was not going to have this conversation again.
"So you have no interest in Jacquelyn Privett other than as a peer and fellow watcher-to-be?"
"Precisely," Wesley nodded curtly. "Now I've got some reading to get done."
"Alright Pryce, just so we're clear on the you not liking Jacquelyn."
In retrospect, he'd been such a fool. Of course he had had feelings for Jacquelyn. In such a short period of time he had fallen completely in love with her; a girl he had never hugged or touched, let alone kissed. He'd never met a girl like her before: beautiful, smart, and for some reason she seemed to enjoy his company. And it terrified him!
What did he know about women? He knew spells, theories, and fighting techniques. Books and scrolls, that was what he understood well, not women, not love. He wouldn't even know where to begin, what to say, or even what to do. The first woman in his life outside of his mother and he had managed to fall completely in love with her without so much as a touch. And now he was expected to confess his undying devotion to her? No, that would never happen and only in his wildest dreams would he ever be loved back by a woman like her. He was not the kind of man that love had ever looked favorably on, not even from his parents. He had a calling, a responsibility that came first and foremost. He had no time for women or for love, so what did it matter that just being around her made his pulse race. Yet in the end it had mattered very little. Jacquelyn Privett was a lot like Michael in one respect: she found Wesley fascinating and was determined to win him over.
Wesley sat forward in his chair, his hands rubbing over his tired face. He suddenly felt much much older than his 25 years. Jacquelyn's smiling face still haunted him. Why did so many of his memories evoke such painful emotions? Had there ever been a time in his life when he was happy? His mind desperately clung to the hope that some happy memories lingered in his subconscious somewhere, and slowly very slowly he felt himself drifting back again…
Jacquelyn's laughter filled the air like the tinkering of bells, and he couldn't help but join in. It was nearly midnight and they sat studying together among stacks of books and scrolls, alone in the top most balcony of the Council's extensive library.
"I bet his face was so red!" Jacquelyn giggled.
"The color of a tomato," Wesley beamed. "He just kept sputtering and glaring down at me." Wesley leaned back in his chair and shook his head.
"What?" Jacquelyn grinned, tilting her head to the side and staring up at him.
"It's just that I wished so hard I knew some spell for spontaneous combustion at that moment, so I could just get away, get out of that class. I thought I was going to be expelled right there and then on the spot. I was terrified. And now, now I'm actually laughing about it."
"Can't be afraid of everything your whole life, Wesley. You'll never live if you do that," Jacquelyn replied. "Bet your father was mad."
"Mad would be an understatement," Wesley sighed. "How dare you," he began to imitate his father's gruff British tone, "purposing that a Watcher take an active bias role in the Slayers battles! Are you out to ruin our family's name or are you just stupid?"
"Wow," Jacquelyn breathed. "I think that's the draw back to becoming a Watcher."
"What is?" Wesley leaned forward, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Losing all touch with reality."
The two of them burst into laughter again. Wesley was laughing so hard he had to remove his glasses to wipe at the corners of his eyes.
"Do you need to wear these all the time?" Jacquelyn frowned, lifting up his glasses and looking through them. "Wesley, is there a prescription here at all?" Placing the glasses on her own nose she blinked a few times at him through them. "I can see nearly perfectly well through these."
"I need them more for reading," he confessed, "But I like them." He took them back from her and slid them back up his own nose.
"Well you look better without them," Jacquelyn smiled. "You look more dangerous."
"Dangerous? Pryce?" Michael's laughing voice danced across the otherwise silent stacks. "Jacquelyn, you don't know our Wesley very well now do you." He circled around the back of Wesley's chair before stopping right beside Jacquelyn, his hands pressed palms down on the desktop. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce does not do anything dangerous!"
"I bet he could if he wanted to," Jacquelyn shot back.
"Nope, not a chance," Michael grinned, leaning in closer to her face. For a moment the two stared up at one another, noses nearly touching eyes locked. Wesley glanced completely confused from one to the other.
Finally he replied, "Michael's right."
Jacquelyn shot Michael a parting glare before turning back to Wesley. "I bet you could. Bet you could call forth any demon you wanted from some of the scrolls here and be in complete control. There would be no danger in it all outside of breaking school codes, considering all you know. Come on, Wesley. Don't be afraid of everything your whole life." She stared up at him with big earnest eyes full of faith and trust, the kind he had never seen bestowed on him before.
After a few moments he nodded. "Ok, let's do it."
"Pryce, mate, I'm proud of you!" Michael smiled. "Now let's have some real fun. But what demon to call forth? I got it, a Heneshi demon."
Wesley frowned. Heneshi demons were a particularly nasty breed that enjoyed slowly bleeding their prey to death before sucking out their souls and devouring them still alive. But if one could utter the proper controlling spell within the first ten minutes of the creature's appearance then all of the demon's strength and mind-control powers would be neutralized and it would be no more harmful than a puppy. The only problem was that the incantation to control the beast was in a dead form of an ancient Sumerian dialect so it would be tricky. But he could do it, right?
"Are you sure we want to try with that demon first off?" Wesley chewed his lower lip. Self-doubt started creeping in on all sides.
"Hey that's the challenge. No shame in admitting you don't have the nerve to do it," Michael's voice had a hint of something new in it. Condescending. Insulting. No, it had to be a mistake right?
"No no, I can do it," Wesley stammered. "We just need to move this table out of the way, and I'll need something to write with and candles."
"Got it and got it," Jacquelyn grinned, holding up a tube of red lipstick and a handful of long white candles.
"Ok, Michael, I need you to draw a pentagram on the floor…right here," Wesley pointed. "And Jacquelyn, I'm going to need some of the holy water from the Chapel."
"Be back in a flash," she nodded as she raced towards the exit, while Michael and Wesley worked to get the pentagram all set.
"I thought you said you didn't like her," Michael's voice was far from cordial.
"I don't," Wesley stammered, surprised by the unhappy tone in Michael's voice.
"Then why are you doing this?" Michael glared up at him.
"I don't…I'm sorry…did I…?" Wesley was so confused by Michael's behavior he began babbling like a child but before he could say more Jacquelyn was back.
"All set," she tossed Wesley a small vial of holy water and he slid it into his pants pocket.
"Then let's get this show started," Michael grinned, but his eyes were cold and empty.
The three of them sat Indian-style at opposite ends of one of the triangles that made up the pentagram each holding a lit candle. Wesley sat at the Northern most point, the scroll with the incantation spread out at his feet.
"Anytime now," Michael whined, shifting his weight slightly.
"Shhh!" Jacquelyn shot back. "Let him think."
Quietly Wesley began to chant.
"Turn up the volume, Pryce. The Powers that Be aren't mind readers!" Turning slightly to Jacquelyn Michael added, "Then again I suppose they could be." She just glared back at him.
Wesley raised his voice, unusually high and cracking. He swallowed hard to get control before continuing, his voice much more steady. Lightning cracked high in the rafters above them and a steady wind began to blow fast and hot. Wesley kept chanting, his voice growing in volume, his body shaking with the power he felt seeping out from the scroll before him, crawling up his arms into his chest and out through is voice.
Suddenly a burst of lighting crashed to the floor at the center of the pentagram shattering all the light bulbs around and plunging the entire library into complete darkness. With a deep low guttural growl a Heneshi demon crawled from the fading light of the lightning bolt, illuminated in an eerie yellow glow. It stood nearly 8 feet tall, towering over the students, who had all back quickly away from the circle, candles abandoned and blown out on the floor. The demon's skin was a molted mix of greens, browns, and grays running together in ridges of razor sharp horns and red veiny lumps of horny flesh. Its face had two large black eyes, stuck above a sharp pointed nose. Long tusks dripped green goo onto the floor boards, and a mouth full of sharp pointed yellow teeth gleamed in the faded moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Long curved clawed hands hung nearly to its knees and three large sickle shaped claws extended from each foot clicking against the floor. The creature let out a hot fetid breath of air as it took in its surroundings.
"Wesley," Michael's voice was shaking with fear.
"Oh right," Wesley mumbled. He'd been so in awe of the creature's appearance and the fact that he had successfully called it forth that he had completely forgotten why they were there. Quickly he began to utter the control spell when the creature took its first step out of the pentagram!
"Wesley!" Jacquelyn shrieked as the demon fixed it sites on her and took another step forward.
"Do something!" Michael cried. "The pentagram isn't holding him!"
It couldn't be! But it was. Slowly and steadily the creature was leaving the protective shield of the pentagram and moving after Jacquelyn. Wesley's mind raced. It wasn't possible! It shouldn't be possible! The only explanation was that the pentagram hadn't been completely sealed, but that would mean…
Frantically Wesley's eyes searched the pentagram. Sure enough a good one inch segment had not been connected. But Michael had drawn it and he had drawn successful pentagrams hundreds of times for classes. Why would he make such an egregious error now?
"Wesley!" Jacquelyn's voice was high pitch scream as the creature reached for her.
Without a pause Wesley leaped into action, throwing his body full force into the creature's side and sending it rolling across the library floor. Rolling onto his side he stumbled towards Jacquelyn dropping to his knees beside her.
"Are you all right?" his hands reached to pull her hands from her face.
She was hysterically sobbing and practically rolled forward into his arms. A deep bloody gash ran the length of her right arm but the rest of her was in one piece…for now. Quickly Wesley removed his tie and began to wrap it around her wound tightly.
"Jacquelyn! Jacquelyn, look at me," he demanded, his voice surprisingly even and strong. She glanced up at him between butterfly lashes, her face pale with terror and streaked with tears. "I need you to keep pressure on your arm, ok? You're going to be alright but I need to put the demon back before we can get you to a doctor, alright? Can you do that?" She offered him the briefest of nods. He smiled back at her warmly, his hands gently cupping her cheeks as he wiped away her tears.
He got back to his feet just in time to see Michael leap head long at the demon only to go sailing across the room into a shelve of books. Things were getting out of control very fast. If he didn't do something soon the creature would regain its full power and be able to lock them all in its gaze. Then it would be all over. His only hope was to complete the pentagram and the get creature back inside it. Then he could bind it and send it back. But where was the tube of lipstick?
Racing across the room Wesley dropped to Michael's side. The boy was unconscious, a nasty cut on his forehead and an even nastier one running from his right shoulder to his left hip. Thankfully it wasn't deep so no internal organs were seeping out but Michael needed help and soon. Quickly, Wesley searched his friend's pockets for the tube of lipstick all the while acutely aware of the creature's lumbering steps. It was starting to regain more power, more focus, and he felt the first probing pressure of the demon's mind searching for the one who called it.
Finally Wesley's hand curled around the small metal tube in Michael's pocket, and before he knew it he was dashing across the library floor once again. Suddenly the creature leapt in front of him but Wesley was going to fast and he crashed head long into the beast, sending them both skidding across the floor. Scrambling back to his feet, Wesley dove across the floor sliding in beside the incomplete circle and connected the line just as the demon grabbed him from behind. The demon lifted Wesley up by the throat and flung him head long across the pentagram and into a set of shelves.
Wesley lay on his back, his entire body numb as stars exploded before his eyes. The world sounded strangely muffled and he was acutely aware of books falling like heavy rain around his head, buffeting his body. Suddenly the pain came back sharp and mind splitting and he curled onto his side gasping. To his left he could see Jacquelyn rocking quietly back and forth, her body pressed tightly against a bookcase, her eyes haunted with terror. He had to get back on his feet. He had to finish the spell, but just as he was pushing himself up the demon grabbed his foot and began to pull him towards it.
At first he pressed his back to the floor, hands extended above his head scratching, clawing, desperately seeking something to cling to. Claws dug into his ankle and he screamed as he felt blood dripping into his shoe. Instinctively he glanced down towards the pain and as his eyes moved from his bleeding ankle to the demon's hideous form he noticed that the creature was standing in the middle of the pentagram!
Kicking with all his might, Wesley wriggled out of the demon's grasp, leaving only his shoe in the beast's clawed hand. Fingertips raw and bleeding, her clawed his way across the floor until he was well out of reach, before pushing himself into a sitting position, scroll in hand.
"Omnia incantamenta fracta! Omnia incantamenta fracta!" Wesley cried.
The creature roared and reached for him but it was trapped, bound within the confines of completely pentagram. Wesley let out a deep breath. He had time now, and carefully he picked through the upturn books and scrolls until he found the right one. Slowly, carefully he chanted the last few lines of the Sumerian incantation and the demon vanished in a bolt of lighting.