Authors Note: Yes, I promise no 14 year old/30 year old Romance. Maybe some Romance with someone later.
AUTHORS NOTE: BETA WANTED please e-mail me at I would love to e-mail my next chapter to people and get some insight, and edit help. My spell check as you all obviously know is extremely odd, and finds mistakes that I don't understand and just argh! -kills spellchecker-. Right erm, like I said please e-mail me.
Thank you So Much for all those Reviews keep them comming ..
Chapter Summary: Wesley drives to his new home reflecting upon his past, and ponders his connection with this girl, and most of all how can she even be a slayer? Then he meets the mayors wife and her son, who is a punk who needs to learn a lesson.
It had been two days since that afternoon in the Diner and as Wesley drove to the house he had bought (Extremely cheap, he didn't ask why) with Annabelle and her father in the car behind him he started to ponder.
Wesley tried to understand how he knew she was a slayer, and how she was a slayer in the first place. Maybe it was some watcher instinct? Like a mother always knows her baby's apart from others know matter how much alike they all look. Maybe it was in his blood? His family is actually one of the last pure breed watchers at the council. Or maybe it was something else? He couldn't explain it he had some sort of connection with her. Its then his mind wondered back to the scars she hid so well. It made him think of his own scars.
"Wesley, come on! Change into your swim trunks! That water isn't that cold!"
"It's quite all right Oliver I umm have some studying to do."
"Wesley, are you ok?"
"Yes, I'd just rather be studying then playing in the water, sort of childish really." Oliver glared, Wesley had been acting really snobby lately but that was the final straw.
"Go on, study! Leave us here, because you know you're too good for us. Maybe if you suck-up to the teachers enough you'll be head boy! You'd like that wouldn't you? Pansy Pryce!"
He did become head boy
He hated it
He never swam that day, and to this day the only time he'll ever remove his clothes is in the shower, and the rare occasion he is with someone. Though after he graduated he had found a simple spell that hid some of the more major scars he had been given. Though no magic could hide the ones that weren't even physical.
"Do you really honestly think you'll accomplish anything? You stupid piece of crap! You are not my son anymore! Honestly! How could you have such low marks in-"
Wesley shuddered at the memory; sometimes they were just too hard to bear. People don't understand there are many kinds of abuse. The one most people think about is Physical. There is also sexual, emotional, and neglect. Most kids had emotional if anything; it's one of the most common unheard of the abuses because the kids just figure there parents are mean. The parent's don't think they are breaking any laws.
To this day Wesley still doesn't know if there is one.
His mind started to wander, away from it all to the girl. Annabelle was her name, but how was she a slayer? When Buffy died, Faith still existed. Did Faith die when she fell from that building? If only for a second, did she die? How long had Annabelle been a slayer and how did he actually know she was a slayer. Dear god, too many questions, what Wesley needed right now was something all the British turn to for comfort.
Tea
6714 Jennings Court was not in fact a court. Actually it was extremely steep hill, a single extremely steep hill that you can see from the town. As he drove up, he felt like he was going to become that creep old man, who lives in that old creepy house, on that single giant hill that looks over the town. He shook his head of this notion. It was extremely old in deed. There was to be extreme fixing up as well.
"Well gotta say Professor." Annabelle's father said who drove up in the car behind him. "Got your work cut out for you." And with that he dropped two duffle bags on the dusty ground and left. "Make sure she is at work at 9:00" he shouted out to him.
Wesley ignored the old man's comments and turned to Annabelle who looked to the ground rubbing her arms.
"So, you going to make me a real lady?" she asked him looking up at him, her eyes so big, round, and innocent.
Wesley never in his life had wanted to cry at such a look.
"I'll do my best, but first." He sighed looking at the house. "We honestly have to fix this first."
"I can help." She peeped up. "I mean ...I'm strong…"
"Really?" asked Wesley raising an eyebrow, so she really was a slayer.
She nodded rubbing her arm, her eyes down casting to the ground. He knew that stance, something he used to do himself at a young age. It was a sign of fear…she was afraid of him. He didn't blame her; he was in fact a stranger.
He'd have to change that.
That afternoon will be forever embedded in Wesley's mind. He had entered that house, extremely cautiously for he didn't know if the ground was sturdy enough to hold his weight. It smelt, of old moss, and rain. The wood was extremely old and all the furniture was covered in extremely old white sheets. Old is the key word he seemed to pick up on.
"Ok, well we best start getting to work, could to move the furniture out of here while I go look around? I'll come down to help you in a second."
"Are you sure Professor? I mean…I said I was strong but I'm not-there is a whole couch in there and I-"
"Annabelle." Wesley said almost placing a hand on her shoulder. But it was not the fact that she flinched at her name that stopped him. It was Angel's face that popped into his mind. As if saying he wasn't worthy of touching a child. "You are going to have to learn to start believing in yourself around me. Don't question yourself or me, I might ask you to do the oddest of things but I promise you…it'll all work out in the end."
Wesley was not good with children, a normal child that it. If it was a normal slayer he would have started to stutter. Yet Annabelle…she was like him…he knew what to say, because all he had to do was think of what he had always wanted to hear.
She looked up at him with those extremely large round eyes and said "Professor…calls me Anna." No smile of sorts came to her lips.
Wesley merely nodded and smiled warmly. "Very well."
The house though extremely old was extremely large. It might have at one point belonged to not a slave owner, no, no it wasn't that large. Though he knew it could probably be dated back before the Civil War. It was 4 levels, a basement which is more of a cellar, first floor, second floor, and a loft that could double as the attic. He had counted before returning to Anna, 5 bedrooms (5 if you count the loft) 2 bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen, what must have been a slave or servant dinning room, a real dinning room, the cellar held no wine, but tons of cases that could hold wine, a library (the walls were covered with bookshelves, but no books. Wesley found it extremely morbid and sort of an omen.) Then he found what must have been the game room of sorts or a smoking room and another bathroom on the main floor.
"Professor, someone is coming!" yelled Anna from outside. He tried to move outside as quickly as he could but he didn't want to break the house apart. Anna had moved all the furniture out of the living room, the smoking room, and the dinning room when he came outside.
She was right, a black SUV pulled up behind his silver one. Out of it came a woman. First thing he noted though he was racist was her African American color. Her nose slightly flat and her hair was in a dozen of little ringlets with blond highlights.
"Hi," she replied giving him a warm bright smile. Wesley made a mental note to ask her about her dentist; her teeth were slightly a bit larger then normal but white and even. "I'm Isabella Kenya, and well…I'm your welcoming committee." She said offering him a hand to shake.
"Hello Miss Kenya, and erm I'm sorry welcoming committee?" he asked shaking her hand firmly. Surprised someone of such small stature could have a grip so firm.
"Ya, well small town, news travel fast, all we heard is you are British, starting a school, and you live in Cherryville Manor?"
"Yes, well something along those lines." He said nodding shaking her hand. "It's more of a summer thing honestly."
"Really..." she said nodding suspiciously almost. "Why ladies though? Not young men? Couldn't you relate to them more?"
"Yes, well I have plenty of sisters." He lied, god he must be one hell of a liar. "5 in fact. All of whom are younger then me, and I had to practically have to raise. I have more experience with young girls, then young men."
"I see, and when you say experience you mean-"
"In teaching." He said quickly, already knowing she was thinking he was some kind of pervert of sorts. Wesley made a mental note to be careful about this Izzy girl, who couldn't have been more then 24 or so.
"Mom, can we go now?" yelled a voice from the car. "I don't want to be around the freaks any longer then I have too." A boy stuck his head out of the car; his skin unlike his mother wasn't a coco color, but rather a light brown sugar sort of color. His father must have been white, is what Wesley guessed.
"Justin!" hissed his mother.
"Come on mom, everyone knows she's a freak. It's she's up here with the freaky old guy, in the freaky old house!"
Wesley had never wanted to punch someone so much in his life.
"Justin I swear yo-"
"Justin now is it?" asked Wesley calmly. A punk, he's had to deal with a few of these when he was head boy. Plus because of his extreme hatred for the boy he was able to act normal and not stutter. Besides, what he planned on doing to him would be for his own good. Though as most people who knew Wesley would know.
He just simple wasn't this cool.
"Yeh," said the boy still inside the car.
"Why don't you come out here, so we can see who the real freak is" Izzy looked at Wesley wide eyed but remained silent. Maybe with this he can get her off his back, by making her think he really was a teacher. It was obvious this boy was not going to back down from a challenge as he stepped out of the car wearing a baseball cap, extremely baggy pants with his boxers showing, and a jersey.
Wesley shook his head making a noise in the back of his throat.
"I'm a freak; I must say you obviously haven't looked in the mirror son."
"What you talking bout?"
"Well your ears, they are obviously too large for your head." The boy's eyes went wide; never had an adult said that to him.
"Justin!" said his mother in a warning tone, knowing him better then most. Wesley though reacted quickly moving to the side avoiding a charging Justin.
"You obviously run to slow as well."
"I'll show you who's slow!" he yelled as he ran back towards Wesley and threw a right hook.
"Who are you to say who is a freak or not? When you are getting you ass kicked by an old man." He said calmly as he caught the punch. The boys eyes went wide as he attempted to knee him but Wesley quickly twisted the arm gently placing it behind his back. The boy being overdramatic screamed out in pain. "So tell me…am I still a freaky old man?" he let him go as he spoke.
Justin pulled away wide eyed, Izzy as well obviously not used to see an adult a stranger to be more exact do that to a child. Yet it was Justin who broke the silence, and fixed things, and in years to come Wesley would thank him for these words.
"Jesus Christ man that was awesome! Where did you learn to fight like that?" he said as he got into a boxing stance and started punching some invisible men. "I mean your were like so smooth about it! Can you teach me how to fight like that?" he asked eyes going wide, suddenly showing the innocence he did own.
Wesley's eyes turned to Izzy, who simple said.
"I-I'll think about it." Still in shock after all of this and she quickly ushered Justin into the car and left to call her Husband Ted, the mayor about this new guy.
Wesley turned only to see a terrified Annabelle…Wesley suddenly went wide eyed. If that's what she thinks he'll do to strangers…she is starting to wonder what he'll do to her…she was afraid…
Had he become his own father?
Authors Note; Ok, a little bit of action, but most just an introduction of the new characters who will play important roles later on.