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This part of the story will be Wesley-centric, for the moment. It will comprise five chapters, mainly from Wesley's POV.

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

Behind every Slayer there is a Watcher.

This is the tale of one Watcher's journey.

Twice Lucky

Rise of the Watcher

Chapter 1: Welcoming committee

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

His father had come to his office and told him, in a rather disinterested tone, that he was to pack his bags immediately. Thereafter, he would be transported to Heathrow and would catch a flight to the United States of America - Los Angles - where he was to be picked up by Rupert Giles. His father had then, promptly, turned around and left.

Wesley Wyndam-Price sat back, stunned by this turn of events; he didn't know what to say, both about his father's attitude and the fact that he was being shipped off to the States. Sunnydale, from what he knew, was over a Hellmouth - the largest of its kind, the second being London, and then Cleveland. He'd had training, and was quite intellectual when it came to things that went bump in the night. Wesley was fairly confident that he could handle most situations.

He got up, strolled about his office and decided to speak to Quinton Travers about this predicament. Knocking once on the door, he waited.

"Enter!"

Wesley straightened himself and opened the doors. His father wasn't there, which was unexpected. He walked up to the desk and sat in the seat Quinton waved to. The fire was roaring, as usual, as the air outside was rather cold.

Quinton looked up with a bemused smile. "Wesley, what can I do for you?"

"Why am I being shipped off to America?"

Quinton sighed and put his pen down. He clasped his hands and unclasped them before finally speaking. "Mr Giles believes that this is the best course of action; He and I quite agree that meeting a vampire in controlled situations is simply not enough."

Wesley nodded. That, at least, made sense. "If I'd been informed of this, I would've been more receptive."

"Ah," Quinton nodded. Yes, Wesley's father had been the one to tell him. Oh well, what was one to do? "It's too late now and Mister Giles is expecting you. But, don't worry. From the updates I've been receiving, both officially and, unofficially, things are progressing quite well; Miss Watson and Mister Giles have a handle on things."

Wesley nodded and was excused. He left, feeling a little bit more assured than before, but he still had the feeling he was being banished. He couldn't understand it. He'd done everything his father had asked; he'd joined the council and been well received. Hell, he'd even passed all the courses and, yet, his father still treated him like a piece of dirt.

Well, hopefully this was his chance to prove otherwise.

Within the next hour, he was packed, only taking hand luggage - as the rest would be shipped over - and was in the car, heading toward the airport. Traffic, as usual, was dismal. He arrived at the terminal, thanked the driver and made his way to the long queues. After nearly an hour's wait - during which, he grew more and more frustrated, - he boarded the plane. Wesley had picked up a few good books while he was there, including one of the Harry Potter series.

He sat and got comfortable for the eight-hour journey. The Council had at least been gracious enough to give him first class. He went for the flight, but stayed for the service. Wesley chuckled at his humour as the plane took off.

Rupert Giles and Diana Watson picked him up at the airport and transported him to his new abode, provided by the Council: a small, two-bedroom flat - or apartment, as the Americans tended to call it.

He made himself comfortable.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

The next day, Wesley was introduced to the 'gang,' as it were. Wesley walked into the large, white room that held a sofa, lots of chairs and a table in the middle. He was pleased to see tons of books already piled on it, and even the fridge, which, no doubt, was full of fizzy drinks. Wesley was even more surprised when he heard the familiar clicking of a boiling kettle.

A few moments later, sitting down with a cup of tea, introductions were made. First, the Slayer, Buffy Anne Summers, waved a hand enthusiastically, for which he was most grateful.

"Buffy, Wesley Wyndam-Price."

"Hey," the Slayer said.

Wesley smiled back, "How do you do?"

"Uh," she blinked in confusion, and looked at Giles. "British thing?"

"Quite correct, Miss Summers," Giles answered with a smile.

"You are not Wesley," Illyria said from the corner of the room. Wesley turned around and spotted the source of the harsh voice.

His eyebrow shot up heavily when he realised that it, whatever it was, was not human. The female looked blue: blue skin, hair and even her eyes. Most likely a demon.

"Illyria, it is Wesley, but younger." Wesley turned toward the second voice, a young man with short brown hair.

"And this would be Mister Xander Harris," Giles said in answer to the silent question. "And that is Illyria, a rather powerful demon who hates vampires."

"Half-breeds," the demon said with disgust.

"Ah, present company excluded, of course." Wesley looked toward Giles' hand, and stood up in shock.

"B- Bloody hell."

"Hello," Angelus said with an evil grin.

"That's…"

"Angelus," Giles nodded at Wesley's unfinished statement.

Angelus flinched, which was something Wesley was not expecting. "I don't go by that name anymore. Angel will do."

"Angel has a soul, which means he's on our side," Giles answered before Wesley could open his mouth.

He was introduced to Faith, of whom he'd already read a report; Harmony, who was very pretty; Willow, who seemed a little overeager; and a proper introduction to Xander, who seemed slightly disinterested.

A fascinating group of individuals.

"I assume we're all knowledgeable on how to kill vampires?"

"Ooh, I get this one," Buffy said while sitting up. "Stake plus heart equals…"

"Lots of dust," Xander grunted. Buffy shot him a grin.

'Quite.' Wesley remained quiet, not liking the Slayer's attitude one bit. It was surely not Council-approved…

"I do not like how you dress," the demon said, overriding his thoughts.

Wesley blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You are not rugged." Wesley choked on his tea.

Giles sat there with a large grin on his face.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

"There's a new Watcher in town," Luke smiled as he said it. It had been several weeks since the dynamic duo had arrived and, promptly, left in search for the Judge. Luke had been keeping a discreet eye on happenings in town, as per orders of the Master.

This drew the old vampire's attention.

"Is he a threat?"

"No." This, Luke knew to be the truth. "He is young, fresh."

"Probably a virgin." Luke chuckled at the Master's criticism.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

"Very well. Darla can deal with him, she likes virgins." The Master smiled grimly at the blonde vampire. Darla looked up with excitement in her dead eyes; she hadn't had one in years.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

"Well," Darla said with a purr. "If it isn't my good, dear friend, Angelus."

Angel paused and turned around with a grim smile. "Darla."

Buffy stopped and felt a big stab of jealousy as Angel named the blonde vampire who'd called him. She was good looking and, no doubt, hundreds of years old. She could hear the Irish accent leaking out of his voice.

"What do you want, Darla?" Angel asked with a tired sigh.

"I've come here to kill the new Watcher," she said with a smile, looking Wesley in the eye and licking her lips.

'Oh crap,' Wesley thought darkly.

"Kill the other two. The Watcher's mine."