Three days after arriving at Wolfram and Hart, and Wren was already feeling much more comfortable in her new surroundings. One could say too comfortable.
"Hey, Angel babe could you possibly get me a soda on your way out?" Wren shouted from her place in front of the TV.
Angel had been in her apartment, trying to discuss with her some kind of training schedule, as he was eager to find out whether what Spike said about her fighting ability was true. His plans were quickly thwarted, however, when Wren informed him of her current unfortunate situation.
"Yeah, not right now Angel, England are playing a friendly against Germany and it looks like it's going to extra time so- oh COME ON ref! Are you BLOODY BLIND! He practically decapitated the poor sod! Oh PLEASE! You're giving him a yellow card for THAT TAP?! Aw FIX! Bloody cheating-"
And so it went on, and as fifteen minutes past, in which Angel became even more confused about the finer points of football and its fans, he decided to give up and try another time.
'After all, these things have to finish some time...don't they?' he thought, just as the word 'penalties' drifted up from the depths of him cerebrum.
Closing the door behind him and walking down the coridoor, Angel almost walked into Spike, who was rounding the corner from the lift carrying a six pack of beer and a bag of Doritos.
"Oi! Bloody watch where you're walking mate. So, the beautiful game not to your tastes eh?"
"You're the one that nearly flattened me, and what exactly is so beautiful about-" he paused as a huge scream of "You STUPID BLOODY WANKER!!!!" came through Wren's door, "-that," he finished.
"Whatever, just because you turned ex-pat a good two centuries ago does not give you an excuse not to know even the slightest bit about one of your national pass times."
"Save the sports lesson, Spike. Where exactly are you going with that?" Angel said, pointing to the beer.
"Present for the lady." Another scream, this time one of apparent joy. "Well, woman certainly...or possibly just female."
"It may have escaped your notice but she does happen to be under age."
"And how would you know that?"
"C'mon Spike, I'm not falling for any of that crap."
"I'm just saying we don't actually know how old she is...maybe that ritual wotsit means she's a lot older than she's letting on, ever think of that?"
"What? Now you're definitely talking crazy."
"I'm just saying is all-"
"Yeah, I get it. Just forget about it, all right?" Angel said, stalking off towards the stairs.
"Ooh, look who woke up on the wrong side of his ego this morning!" Spike jeered, hoping to get a rise, and of course succeeding
Angel turned and confronted the blonde once more, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Except that maybe you ought to give the girl a chance to work out her own life before you start trying to do it for her."
"I am NOT trying to rule her life!" Angel shouted.
"Hmm, me thinks the lady doth protest too much," Spike smirked.
"Why can I never have a sensible conversation with you?"
"Just the way I was made, I guess, and you should know, being the one that made me."
"Don't remind me."
Angel turned once again, but paused when he felt Spike watching him.
"I just, I don't know what to do with her," he said quietly.
Spike stood silent for a moment, brow furrowed in thought and head tilted to one side. After a few seconds he spoke.
"Well, maybe try asking her what she wants to do, because at the moment I can tell you she's bored out of her mind."
"What?"
"Well, think about it. She was sent here by Buffy for you to train her. As we both know that's ever so slightly pointless there's really no reason for her to be here."
"So what? I should just kick her out on the street?"
"Did I say that? Just give a bloke a chance to finish a sentece here would you?"
"Sorry."
"Right, well, as I was saying; she's spent most of the last two years with no real purpose in life, except moping round a sodding great country house with nothing but the spiders for company."
"So what do you suggest?" said Angel in an irritated tone.
"What I suggest is that maybe you give the girl a chance to do something other than sit and watch the teley with yours truly. Let her be the slayer for a change."
"But how do we know if she's ready."
"Well, you might want to start by asking her," said a third voice.
Spike turned around, Angel looking over his shoulder, and say Wren stood in the middle of the coridoor with a quizzical and slightly amuzed, if not impatient, look on her face.
"And try to remember the fact that 'she' can hear you through a lot more than a layer of drywall."
"Wren, look, I'm sorry if it seems like we don't trust you but-" Angel started.
"But you don't," Wren interrupted, "and that's OK, I guess it just means I'm going to have to prove myself," she said, a big and entirely evil grin coming to her face, "and that sounds like what I call fun!"