A/N: Thank you, thank you for all of your reviews! I cherish each one of them! They make me all giggly and giddy with glee! Okay, so this chapter is tons of fun...well, depending on your definition of fun. :D
Random Disclaimer: (I don't own Buffy).
Wesley: What is the purpose of this disclaimer?
Me: Uh, my lame attempt at entertainment?
Buffy: I think it's kinda neat...wigs me out a little, but it's neat.
Angel: (fighting) Yeah, but why am I always fighting? (ducks a punch)
Me: Because you look even sexier when fighting.
Buffy: (smiles) Yeah...
Wesley: I feel uncomfortable in this conversation.
Giles: Get used to it.
Eye of the Beholder Chapter 12
Two vampires immediately latched onto him, one sinking its fangs into Angel's shoulder, while the other made a leap for his neck. Angel growled sharply, and pulled at the chains, feeling them snap after a few seconds. The sound of snapping chains and vicious growls were the only sounds heard throughout the dungeon and all the vampires present listened eagerly.
Now that he was free, Angel got his arm up in time so that the leaping vampire sank it's fangs into his arm instead of his neck. The vampire tried to hold him in place, shoving him against the wall. Another vampire grabbed the vamp that had its fangs in Angel's arm and yanked him away, causing the vamp to rake it's claw-like hand down Angel's chest as he tried to hold on to his meal. Angel ignored the pain and used his now free arm to rip the other vampire's teeth from his shoulder, ignoring how it tore his flesh and how his borrowed blood ran down his arm. One thing to his advantage was that these vampires were, in fact, starving. They couldn't coordinate an attack. They were just fighting for survival.
Four of the vamps had already turned on each other and were growling and snarling and rolling around on the floor, punching and kicking and biting and flailing. This left Angel with only four vamps to deal with, which was much easier.
Angel dealt a wicked left hook to one vamp's jaw, sending him flying into the opposite wall. Another vamp leapt at him, but Angel quickly had him in a headlock before giving his head a violent twist, snapping the vamp's neck. However, during this time, the two remaning vampires had jumped him. One on his back and the other hand sunk it's fangs into his other arm.
Angel flipped the vampire off his back, subsequently causing the vamp that had a hold of his arm to let go as he was squished under the falling vamp. A fist connected with his face and Angel's head snapped to the side as another vamp who had previously been fighting one of the other four descended upon him, snarling deliriously with hunger.
Angel backhanded him, sending him flying back into a vamp that had just picked itself off the floor. Angel did a quick mental tally and saw that there were only five vamps remaining. A vampire ripped another's head off and Angel changed his tally. Four vamps remaining.
They all sprung at him, and Angel defended himself as best he could. His normal combinations were useless as they would only work for an opponent who could think coherently. This fight was more like the tavern brawls he always got into when he was human...hit anything that moved.
Angel was pushed back against the stone wall and there was a loud crack as his head connected with the solid surface. He blinked back stars and punched the vampire responsible before growling and throwing him into the others. This caused two of the vamps to turn on each other, and left Angel with only one opponent.
It was a welcome change, and Angel quickly snapped the vamp's neck and tore his head off, leaving him as nothing but new dust on the already dusty floor. Angel spun, ready for another attack, but none came. He looked to see that of the three remaining vamps, two were fighting each other and the third was feeding on the first vamp whose neck Angel had broken.
Angel sighed, pulling the vamp off the for all intents and purposes dead vampire, quickly detaching his head from his body. He did the same to the vampire lying motionless on the floor, before returning his attention to the two vampires who'd been fighting each other.
One, apparently, had lost, which left Angel with one final foe.
The vampire leapt at him, but Angel simply grabbed his outstretched arm, used his momentum against him, and swung him face-first into the stone wall. The vampire's face crunched on impact and Angel didn't waste any time in disposing of the creature.
It was silent in the cell except for Angel's unnecessary labored breathing. He was shaking with exhaustion and blood loss from his wounds. His shirt looked like it'd gone through a shredder, but he was still standing victorious.
"Oi!" a vampire called from his cell. "Did ya win mate?"
Angel just growled sharply in answer, causing the dungeon to erupt into a noisy chatter.
Giles stared at Wesley's proffered hand for a moment, before deciding to shake it. "I wish I could say that it was nice to meet you," he said as he let his hand drop and looked around the room once more. "You've completely gone your own way with my quarters, I see."
"Yes, my quarters, are somewhat different from yours," Wesley replied pointedly emphasizing the pronoun. "I found this more to my liking."
"So I see," Giles said as he took a seat on the end of the neatly made bed.
Wesley tried to control himself. He prided himself on being a proper Watcher. He hoped to go into the field one day, to be in charge of a Slayer like Mr. Giles was. However, he would do things differently. He would adhere to the strict Watcher code. It was why they had a handbook after all.
The rumors circulating around the Council about Mr. Giles and the goings-on in Sunnydale interested Wesley greatly and his curious nature burned with a desire know the truth.
"Is it true that you completely disregarded the handbook?" Wesley inquired, unable to stop himself.
Giles raised his eyebrows slightly. "Yes."
"Why?" Wesley pursued intently. "The purpose of the handbook is to guide the Slayer accordingly. That's how it's always been for centuries, since the founding of the Watchers. Surely, you would not completely disregard it?"
"Buffy is different," Giles replied simply.
"I would imagine all Slayers are the same," Wesley disagreed lightly, with a naiveté in his tone due to the fact that he lacked experience in the field. "They all have superior strength, enhanced senses, the ability to do what we as Watchers cannot."
"And I've found that over time the Council has forgotten that they are all young girls," Giles stated plainly. "They have feelings. They're trying to find out who they are as a person, not just as the Slayer."
"Obviously, she would see that it's her duty to protect the world," Wesley said with a curious tilt to his head. This was interesting. It was obvious that Mr. Giles cared for his charge for more than was appropriate. Wesley imagined this was what a father's love looked like.
"Of course she does," Giles retorted heatedly. "And she does her job! She's already died once doing so, and I have no doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice herself again."
"It's her duty," Wesley stated. "Of course she would."
"It's her life," Giles retorted fiercely. "Buffy is not some weapon under the Watcher's control to use as they please. She's a human being with feelings. She's a normal girl. She wants friends, she wants to go shopping, she wants to find romance…she just wants to find her place in this world."
"You care for her," Wesley voiced his observation.
"Of course," Giles replied. "What person who claimed to have a heart wouldn't?"
"What about Angelus?" Wesley asked suddenly.
"What about him?" Giles asked as his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Well," Wesley hesiatated, regretting the question, and even more so the morbid curiosty that prompted it. "Is he—was he—was he as evil as they say?"
"Worse."
"Then why didn't the Slayer kill him?" Wesley asked completely confused.
"She almost did," Giles answered. "However, Willow, Buffy's best friend, restored his soul, permanently."
"And yet you still…" Wesley couldn't finish, as his mind couldn't wrap around the fact that a Slayer had let a vampire live. "She still allowed him to live? After all that he'd done?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Wesley asked curiously.
Giles considered the question. He knew exactly why Buffy had let Angel live, and it wasn't something he was going to tell this boy who wore far too much tweed. Briefly, Giles recalled what Travers had said. This Wesley Wyndam-Pryce did have a fair amount of potential. He was curious, almost annoyingly so, but he was naïve in believing that if the books told him something then it was irrevocably true.
"Because she has a heart," Giles finally answered.
Stumped by Giles words, Wesley turned back to his translations. "I hear you're good with translations?"
Giles recognized the subtle peace offering and took it. "I've done a few in my day," he allowed.
"Could you look at this?" Wesley asked. "I would appreciate your opinion."
Giles stood and walked over to the desk, peering over Wesley's shoulder. His eyes widened as he examined the scrolls closely. "Good Lord, where did you get this?"
"Ah, the Council was lucky with this one," Wesley sighed. "We just managed to come along a text that said that there were two copies of these scrolls made. One copy, the duplicate, is held in a secure fault in Los Angeles by a particular law firm that the Council likes to avoid crossing blades with."
"Law firm?" Giles raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Surely, you're joking?"
"Not at all," Wesley shook his head. "I don't know details. In fact, that's the sum of my knowledge. A law firm in Los Angeles."
Giles' attention returned to the ancient scrolls on the desk. "So this…this is the original copy of the Prophecies of Aberjian?"
"Yes," Wesley answered. "Thought lost for centuries. Nearly 4,000 years old and in nearly fourteen different languages, some of them not even human. It's been a bloody mess to translate."
"Well, this looks to be ancient Aramaic if I'm not mistaken," Giles said as he studied the text intently.
"You're correct," Wesley nodded. "I haven't translated much; I only just got my hands on them early this morning. Had to wrestle them from O'Connor but it was worth it," Wesley muttered as he rubbed his aching shoulder absently. "Bloke has a tight hold…"
"You're asking for my assistance?" Giles asked as he continued to study the scrolls. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help the little bubble of excitement at the sight of the ancient document.
"If I get in a rut, yes," Wesley sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "But I'm afraid I'll have to put them up for now. I'm starting to see double."
"I know the feeling," Giles murmured to himself before retreating back to the bed with a deep sigh.
Wesley appraised the older man in front of him. Rupert Giles was known throughout the academy as one of the most accomplished Watchers. He'd been trusted enough to be sent to a Hellmouth to look after a prophesied Slayer. Not just anyone would be appointed such a task.
However, Wesley hadn't been prepared for how the man wore his metaphorical heart on his sleeve, well, at least when it came to his charge. Miss Summers had been creating quite a stir, and now with what Giles had said about her, how he'd defended her with a passion that went beyond a mentor to his student…Wesley was curious to see what was so special about Buffy Summers.
"Excuse me, but I must leave," Wesley said abruptly, deciding his course of action. "Please, make yourself comfortable. You will have a long day tomorrow."
Buffy sat on her little pathetic excuse for a bed. Really, it was more of a cot, but Buffy wasn't all about technicalities right now. No, right now she had other things on her mind aside from the bedding.
Angel.
Where was he? Was he alright? Similar questions raced through her mind, and it was nearly driving Buffy insane because she didn't know the answers. She knew he could be dust.
The thought terrified her.
And Giles? Where was Giles? Was he okay?
Buffy hated not knowing anything. She'd tried to get through the door, but there was no getting through the force field around it. She briefly entertained the idea of tunneling her way out, but she realized that she had absolutely nothing strong enough to carve away at the stone, and she wasn't about to break her knuckles trying to punch through it.
So Buffy had spent the past however many hours sitting in front of the fireplace and staring into the flames. A knock sounded on the door, and Buffy's head jerked up towards the sound. Immediately, she got up and put her back flat against the wall to the left of the door, waiting for it to open.
It swung wide, and Buffy took her chance.
Except, apparently, the force field was still in place.
"Ah, I'm afraid that won't work," the man said, and Buffy immediately appraised him.
He was wearing a brown tweed suit and a cream colored button down shirt with a brown tie. Thin, wire-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. His hair was combed exactly, the part on the side a straight line.
"Who are you?" Buffy asked suspiciously, just now eyeing the plate of food that he held.
"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he answered properly. "I would shake your hand, but I'm afraid my hands are full with your dinner."
Wesley stepped into the room, not caring that they door was left open. He set the tray on the table and looked back to see that the Slayer was staring out into the hallway wistfully.
"You see, I can come in," Wesley explained. "But once you're in, you can't get out."
"So I'm stuck with you, British boy?" Buffy asked, not sounding too thrilled.
"No," Wesley shook his head, ignoring the insult. "One of my friends will come and allow me safe passage out."
"Must be nice to have those," Buffy said dully as she sat down at the table. "Friends," she elaborated, seeing his confused look.
"Mr. Giles made it seem as though you did have friends," Wesley replied, causing Buffy to look up at him sharply.
"You've seen Giles?" Buffy asked anxiously. "Is he okay? Where is he?"
"He's sharing my quarters with me," Wesley explained, his interest renewed at the girl's obvious concern.
"And he's alright?" Buffy pressed.
"A little stressed, but alright," Wesley answered, and Buffy relaxed slightly.
"Good," she said as she lifted the top off the tray. She stared at the steaming pile of food, her mouth watering as she was reminded of how long ago it was that she'd eaten.
"It's not poisoned," Wesley said, seeing her hesitation.
"Why should I trust you?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Why should you—," Wesley repeated confused and incredulous. "I give you my word as a Watcher that the food is not poisoned!"
"Uh huh," Buffy looked him up and down. "So why should I trust you?"
"Have you no faith in the Watchers?" Wesley asked affronted.
"Not much," Buffy said truthfully. "Giles is the exception."
"What reason do you have for being so wary?" Wesley questioned.
"Oh, gee, I don't know," Buffy said angrily. "Maybe it's because they came into my house, interviewed all my friends, and practically ordered me to come with them to London. I walk in the doors and I'm treated like a dangerous prisoner. I'm thrown in here, which is nothing more than a dressed up prison cell, waiting to be ripped a new one by a bunch of old guys that wouldn't know the sharp end of a sword if it poked them in the—"
"Yes, yes," Wesley quickly interrupted. "I can see how you might, be, um, hostile."
"Hostile?" Buffy repeated raising her eyebrows. "Oh, you haven't seen hostile."
"Angry," Wesley amended somewhat nervously as Buffy advanced on him.
"Do you know where they took Angel?"
"Who?" Wesley's brow furrowed. "Oh, you mean Angelus?"
"No, I mean Angel," Buffy shook her head. "He's not Angelus."
"He was not too long ago," Wesley pointed out. "Honestly, I don't understand you."
"What's not to get?" Buffy asked confused. "I'm an open book."
"Why didn't you kill Angelus—"
"—Angel"
"—in the first place," Wesley finished. "It is your duty to vanquish demons."
"He has a soul," Buffy argued firmly. "He's not evil."
"But he was only a short while ago and you didn't kill him," Wesley pursued curious as to what motivated this odd Slayer.
"He's my friend," Buffy answered. It was the biggest understatement in the world, but it was true. "Have you ever tried to kill a friend? Someone who saved your life more times than you've saved his?"
"Why would he save you?" Wesley asked, utterly confused by this girl, her Watcher, and now the vampire Angelus. "You're a Vampire Slayer and he is a vampire. That seems like a lot to overcome in a friendship."
"He has a soul," Buffy repeated, like it made all the difference in the world.
"But he's still a demon," Wesley argued bewildered and unable to comprehend Buffy's logic.
Buffy shook her head and sat down at the table, beginning to pick at her food. "You need to get your nose out of those old, smelly books and wake up and smell the tea, Wes." Buffy didn't look up from her food. "You're friend is here," she said hearing the man's footsteps.
Wesley turned and noted with some surprise that she was right. He wasn't aware of how much time had passed. "Oh, yes, I see you're right."
"It's been known to happen."
"Yes, well," Wesley stammered, completely confused, yet fascinated by the girl in front of him.
She was nothing like he'd imagined. It was odd. It was like she was just a normal girl. There was nothing that screamed warrior about her. She was small and slender. She had shoulder length blonde hair that he imagined was cut in a very fashionable style. Bright, seemingly innocent green eyes shone with youth, but at the same time hinted at a developing, premature wisdom, which came from experiencing too much in life too quickly.
"You're friend is waiting," Buffy pointed out.
"Right," Wesley said glancing at his friend, who nodded. Wesley walked through the doorway, passing through the barrier. He turned around and saw that Buffy was staring after him, a contemplative look on her face. "It was…enlightening to talk to you," Wesley said honestly. "The Review is scheduled to begin tomorrow," he told her. "I suggest you get some sleep."
"Eh, night time is party time for me," Buffy smiled faintly, though Wesley could see clearly the undisguised worry in the Slayer's eyes. "But ya never know; I might catch a few Z's."
Wesley couldn't think of a response, so he just nodded and shut the door. Richardson, the man who'd let him through the barrier, looked at the door curiously.
"She's an odd one," he said. "I'm surprised she's still alive. Not what a Slayer's supposed to be at all."
Wesley considered that. Perhaps that's why she is still alive, he thought to himself.
However, he did not say that out loud. "No, I suppose not," he said lamely.
"Well, goodnight," Richardson said. "Lots to do tomorrow," he added before walking off down the hall.
Wesley went the opposite direction, thinking along the same lines. Yes, there was a lot to do tomorrow, for most of the Watchers at least. Wesley was nothing but a researcher, so all he'd planned on doing tomorrow was translating more from the Scrolls of Aberjian. Now, Wesley had a new plan.
He needed to talk with Angelus. Mr. Giles had defended the vampire, or rather, he'd defended Buffy who had defended Angelus. Angel. Wesley corrected in his head. They both referred to him as Angel.
Wesley wondered how he'd convince Travers to let him speak with Angel.
Yes, I'm bringing in the Scrolls early...they're important and I need them for my little plan...
Woo! Go, Wes! He's so adorable in his young, naive character arc! Of course, now I get to go write the Wes who slays demons and wears leather...
That's right people! I've written three chapters of the sequel to AISHB...and It. Is. Awesome. And I wrote a particular scene that just has me dancing in excitement! So freaking excited! Don't all of you wanna guess what it is? :D
Lots of love,
ArthursCamelot