Thanks Joe, the more reviews I get the more chapters you get. I tell ya, I'd like to see 74 reviews in one go, now that –would- be awesome.

It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power.

Alan Cohen

Twice Lucky

Rise of the Watcher

Chapter 2: Trial by fire

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

The vampires lunged at Angel, knowing that, somehow, he had an edge on them; which was the reason they used their numerical advantage. The first vampire lunged, with his hands outstretched, in the hopes that his long fingernails would make a mark. Angel grabbed him, using the momentum to his advantage.

It didn't last long. The second vampire scored a direct hit and slammed a fist into Angel's face. The ensouled vampire spun about and brought his foot up in the air, then slammed it into an oncoming foe. While Angel couldn't be hurt, he could feel pain. And that was more than enough to slow him down. As the kicks and punches rained on him, Angel could briefly see Darla approaching a very nervous-looking Wesley.

Darla licked her lips; it had been a long time since she'd eaten a Watcher. Longer still, since she'd had a Slayer. In fact, it had been well over a hundred years. He looked fresh, untrained. "So, Wesley, isn't it?"

Wesley smiled weakly, feeling his resolve starting to wain and the need to bolt as fast and far away as his legs would carry him was growing stronger by the minute.

She raked her eyes up and down his form., "Pity, I could've made good use of you," she moved her hips suggestively. "But the Master said you had to die, and then I'll take care of dear Liam."

"Liam?" Wesley blinked in surprise, his fear momentarily forgotten.

"Ah, curiosity killed the cat." Darla stepped forward and with another licking of her lips. "Or, in this case, the Watcher."

He felt his feet tremble at the animalistic look that suddenly flared in her dark eyes; there was no love there, no feeling of remorse for what she was about to do. No, this was a woman who had killed, willingly, for hundreds of years, creating a name that would be feared across the globe.

Her hand stretched out and, before he could react, cut across his face: three claw marks, etched across his right cheek, creating three jagged lines. Strangely enough, he didn't feel any pain; only the warm sensation and the feel of liquid, as the blood started running freely. One of the other vampires, who was helping pummel Angel, looked up with a snort, licked his lips and went back to the beating.

Darla lifted a finger to her mouth and licked the blood off. "A virgin, to boot."

This, more than anything, made Wesley blush. It wasn't his fault. after all. The Council kept him so busy, he'd never really had the time to go out and look for a girlfriend.

Darla made another move at him, this time using a full-body advantage and something happened. All the years of training, of meeting that one vampire that had haunted his dreams for so long; after reading all the text, and even practicing with the teachers… something clicked and Wesley moved out of the way, side-stepping her attack.

Darla hit nothing and landed on the ground with surprise, then smiled.

"Looks like our boy has some skills, after all."

She lashed out with a punch – which he blocked – and a kick, which he ducked. Another punch, then a combo and a leg sweep; a roundhouse; a flurry of fists. Each attack, he blocked swiftly and retaliated, in kind. He then, suddenly, remembered that he had a stake.

Time slowed down.

The blonde moved towards him at a graceful speed.

Wesley pulled the stake out…

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

One of the many things they'd requested - for which, Giles was now thankfully glad - was a large supply of medicines and medical supplies, everything of those damn contraptions that Angel could use to give mouth to mouth, should he need to lots of bandages.

Giles had immediately feared the worse upon hearing of the attack, but was relived when he saw Angel and Wesley, holding each other up as the two limped to the house. It appeared that, even though the ring made him stronger and practically immortal, it didn't stop pain and bruising. Angel looked, quite frankly, like shit.

He'd gotten them in the house as quickly as possible, convinced a shaken Wesley to sit down, after assuring him that Angel would be taken care of. Already, Giles could see the vampire's bruises starting to heal.

Giles then got some warm water, which Diana took from him, with a smile, and started cleaning the three grazes along Wesley's cheek; they were going to leave a nasty scar. Giles also sought out the Neosporin, which he let Diana apply. Wesley yelped with pain when she put it on and, within the hour - when they were certain it was safe - they took the young Watcher to the hospital.

Illyria followed suit, watching Wesley closely. She hadn't thought that the young Watcher could be what he was in the other timeline, but, after seeing him in action, she was pleasantly surprised. He had fought well.

Sure, Wesley didn't have any cunning, or a fear-inspiring attitude, but he did have good reaction times, using his agility as an advantage.

Illyria had been ready to step in and help, but Wesley had raised the stake and had plunged it into the vampire's heart, turning her into dust, as all half-breeds should go.

With, maybe, the exception of Angel.

When they had gotten out of the car, Giles had been worried that the doctors would see Illyria in her true form. But, instead - and to his amazement - a young woman, with long, brown hair and friendly brown eyes, stepped out.

"Here y'go," she said, in a strong Texan accent. Wesley looked stunned and blushed. "I'll help y'all to the hospital."

"Thuh, thank you."

"Don't mention it," she smiled. "Ahm mighty proud of y'all, see how y'fought out there against those nasty half-breeds," she winked.

They took him in and the doctor looked him over, stating in a monotone that Wesley would need stitches. No questions were asked and no answers were given. He stitched up Wesley's cheeks and they were sent packing.

Giles was more surprised at Illyria's humanity than anything. He got the general idea that she didn't like them much and, more than once, commented about the nasty 'stink' that they gave off. She must've known Wesley from the previous timeline; it made sense. He suddenly wondered what Wesley was like, then, to gain the respect of a demon king, of all creatures.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

Wesley sat on the bed, in one of the lower levels of Xander's house, which, he'd been told, had been designed well by the Watchers Council and was certain to survive any attack by vampires or demons. Hell gods, he wasn't so sure about. But, thankfully, he had yet to fight one of those; although, knowing the Hellmouth, it was, no doubt, only a matter of time.

His hand moved up to the scars.

"You should not touch those."

And flinched away at the harsh voice of his sentry. His silent guardian stood in the room, watching over him and providing anything he needed. He was surprised, as he had heard her say something a couple nights before about the foul stench of humanity. And yet, here she was, looking after a human.

It was a conundrum.

For the moment, though, he didn't mind. At first, he'd been very reluctant at coming to Sunnydale, getting the feeling as though he was being banished. And yet, even though he received the odd, hard stare from Mister Giles, he was warmly welcomed. Diana - Miss Watson - had been very kind to him, explaining the situation surrounding the Hellmouth.

And then there was the Slayer, who seemed to think that the entire world revolved around her. Every decision made, had to be made around her. And hat was wrong; he was her Watcher for goodness sake.

'No, that was wrong,' he mentally corrected himself. Giles was her Watcher, and he was simply an observer. A Watcher watching the Watcher?

Wesley chuckled at his humour and winced in pain.

But that, in the end, shouldn't matter… they were her seniors, as they had the knowledge and training to deal with these situations. They certainly couldn't fight as well as her, but they weren't there for that. She was the tool, and they were the means to implement it.

As for the others, well, they were certainly an interesting lot. Young Mister Harris seemed to have tamed Miss LeHane in a rather extraordinary manner. If he asked her to do anything - and he did mean anything - she would do it at the drop of a hat. Or, rather, whatever panties she was wearing at the time.

That relationship was confusing.

Here was Xander, banging Faith AND Willow, occasionally at the same time. Some men, Wesley thought with a depressed sigh, had it all, while he had nothing.

He felt the painkillers start to work, sleep beginning to seep into his wary body. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

Illyria was pleased that Wesley was fitting in well. Xander Harris had lived up to his part of the bargain, insuring that Wesley would get the respect he deserved. Even the blonde-haired Slayer, Buffy, was listening to what he said. Hopefully, this would help curb some of the insecurities that Wesley mentioned he had. That last night, he'd simply sat with her and talked. About his past, his childhood, his strained relationship with his father and the death of his mother and how it had damaged their family. He told her of his hopes and dreams, and how they'd been brutally crushed by the Watchers Council.

She said all of this to Xander, and, while she had talked to him, Xander had simply sat down and listened, commenting when necessary and giving her guidance and counsel when she needed it.

She trusted Xander: he didn't mock her or make demands, and, most importantly, he didn't try to kill her. For this, she had been grateful, not that she would ever show it; a demon king did no such thing.

For Xander, she would not crush the Watchers Council. For Xander, she would crush the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart. And, for Xander, she would insure that he and his friends – and their loved ones - would survive.

For Xander, and for Wesley; both, who treated her more humanly than she would have, had their roles been reversed.

Perhaps, she was more human than she realised…

Silently, in the darkness, her mouth twisted into a disgusted grimace.