Six months ago, Wesley would have done almost anything to be given responsibility over an actual Slayer—let alone two of them. He would have been eager to prove himself in the field and put his years of study to the test. But now, however, he'd much rather remain in London to research demons and not be noticed.

He packed his books slowly, as if he could stretch the task long enough that Mr. Travers would change his mind and send someone else instead. He had been avoiding clearing off his desk, which was still piled with the now slightly dusty records about Angelus. But every time he turned to put more books from his shelves into the box sitting on his chair, he saw it all sitting there, the solitary journal he had filled out with the century's worth of information Angel had given him resting on top.

How could he have been so careless? Staying cooped up on his own with his books all the time, so intent upon deciphering the past that he was unaware of the present—unaware that his superiors were planning to set a Slayer against his friend. What had happened? Had Angel refused to fight her and simply let her kill him? Had he attempted to escape or tried to convince her that he was not the same as the monster she had sent to Hell months ago? No, of course he hadn't. After all, Angel could have told him right away about his soul, but he had not. He appreciated kindness and mercy, but he never asked for it; never defended himself, and always took responsibility for the past he couldn't control.

But could he, Wesley, have done anything to prevent it if he hadn't left for a week and a half to go on his harebrained scheme? In all likelihood, he wouldn't have been able to do anything at all, apart from getting himself into trouble as well, but the fact that he had been so ignorant and that he hadn't been there to at least try made him feel ill.

He had done it all wrong. He should have realized that the Council wouldn't simply keep Angel locked away in that cell forever. He had ensured that Angel would not lose his soul, but it had been his life that was in greater jeopardy. What had been the point of getting the Kalderash to anchor Angel's soul while he was in a dungeon, anyway? It wasn't as if the vampire would have found perfect happiness in that cold, damp prison. If he'd only had the sense to break Angel out first! Now it was all for nothing, and what had become of Angel's soul? Was he back in Hell, or did someone other than Wesley and the girl from Angel's story understand that he deserved better?

Wesley shoved the next few books into the box with unnecessary force, so that the ancient spine of one of them parted company with its pages. How was he supposed to do this? Train the Slayer who had killed Angel? She probably didn't know what she had done—or, if she did, she might not have appreciated the significance of his soul. He shouldn't hold it against a Slayer for killing a vampire—it was what she had been chosen to do, and nowhere in the job description did it make an exception for vampires with souls. Try as he might to remain this objective, though, Wesley could not stop himself from blaming Buffy Summers. Having someone else to blame spared him from some of the guilt he felt himself, and it distracted him from both his failure and his grief.

No matter how slowly he went, he had still packed everything he needed by the end of the day, and found himself shortly thereafter on a plane to California.

[o]

Wesley's outlook on his new assignment did not improve with his arrival at the library of Sunnydale High, where, instead of helping him unpack his books, Rupert Giles demanded that he see identification and various other forms of proof that he was a Watcher, then phoned the Council to verify his story. After that, he merely sat on the table with his back to Wesley, an expression of stony, irritated boredom on his face. When a school-aged girl with red hair entered, she looked at him curiously before conversing cheerfully with Mr. Giles for a few minutes.

"She seemed to know rather a lot about the Slayer," Wesley observed with a small frown after she had gone.

"Well, they are best friends," replied Mr. Giles dryly.

Wesley shot an affronted look at the older Watcher's back—which, of course, went unnoticed by him—and did not attempt to talk to him again. He occupied himself instead by going through all of his training in his mind. His perfectionist tendencies meant that he was determined to do this job well, even if the thought of training the girl who killed his friend made him shudder.

"Hello, Buffy," said Mr. Giles unexpectedly about twenty minutes later. Wesley turned to see a petite, blonde young woman eyeing him warily. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to glare coldly at her and ball his hands into fists. He put the book he'd been holding down and walked around the table towards her.

"Hello," he said stiffly.

Buffy continued to look at him appraisingly. "New Watcher?" she asked.

"New Watcher," confirmed Mr. Giles.

Wesley stepped forward and extended a hand. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he said. Buffy did not shake his hand, and he withdrew it, not terribly sorry that his feeble attempt at cordiality had been rejected.

Still not taking her eyes off him, Buffy stepped towards Mr. Giles. "Is he evil?"

"Evil?" asked Wesley. He was indignant. Him, evil? He wasn't the one who had killed an innocent, ensouled being!

"The last one was evil," said Buffy.

"Oh," said Wesley, realizing what she had meant. "Gwendolyn Post. Yes, we all heard." Mr. Travers had attempted to keep that embarrassing piece of information in Mr. Giles's most recent report from the rest of them at headquarters, but hadn't done a very good job of it. "No, Mr. Giles has checked my credentials rather thoroughly—and phoned the Council—but I'm glad to see you're on the ball as well." He leaned closer, which caused the other two to lean away. "A good Slayer is a cautious Slayer," he said, then stepped back.

"Is he evil?" Buffy asked again. Wesley made an impatient noise in the back of his throat.

"Not in the strictest sense," said Mr. Giles.

"Well, I'm glad that's cleared up," said Wesley loudly. He walked back around to his boxes and picked up a blank journal while Buffy sat next to Mr. Giles on the edge of the table. "As I'm sure none of us is anxious to waste any time on pleasantries," himself included, he thought, "why don't you tell me everything about last night's patrol?"

"Vampires," said Buffy.

"Yes?" asked Wesley tersely.

"Killed 'em."

Well, obviously. "Anything else you can tell me?" he asked, annoyed.

Things did not improve as the discussion went on, though, admittedly, Wesley was not in a mood to do much to rectify this. He was, at least, able to quickly identify the sword-wielding vampire Buffy had faced as an acolyte of Balthazar, but her constantly flippant attitude towards him and Mr. Giles's apparent disinclination to discourage it made him steadily more irritated and resentful all the time. This was going to be a nightmare.

Shortly after Wesley had instructed Buffy to go to the Gleaves family crypt to retrieve Balthazar's amulet (and received yet another insolent answer in return), a girl with dark hair, dark makeup, and dark clothing strode into the library.

"Ah," said Wesley, "this is perhaps Faith." He hoped, in spite of her rather dangerous appearance, that he might have found an ally. He had no grudge against this Slayer, after all.

Faith stopped in her tracks and stared at Wesley with obvious distaste. "New Watcher?" she asked the other two.

"New Watcher," they said together.

Faith snorted. "Screw that," she said, before turning on her heel and walking straight back out again. Wesley's heart sank. Yes, this was going to be a nightmare.

"Now, why didn't I just say that?" asked Buffy.

"Er, Buffy," said Mr. Giles patiently. "Would you…"

"I'll see if I can get her back," she said, sliding off the table. "Don't say anything incredibly interesting while I'm gone."

Wesley glared after her and removed his glasses to clean them with his handkerchief. He was beginning to wish rather fervently that Mr. Travers had sent Tobias or someone else instead of him.

[o]

The meeting with her new Watcher was like a fly buzzing around Buffy's head for the rest of the day. He had been pompous, snobby, and bossy, and she had also gotten the distinct impression that he didn't like her at all. She had hoped that Giles's replacement would be like, well, Giles—if possibly a little stricter. She had hoped he would be someone she could eventually trust to keep her confidences as Giles did. Instead, she found herself faced with the same situation she had with Mrs. Post, except that Angel was really back instead of just in her dreams, and this new Watcher was assigned to her as well as Faith. She and Angel were going to have to tread very lightly around him.

That led her thoughts down another road she didn't want to travel: she still hadn't told her mother that Angel was back, good, and dating her again. She really couldn't keep putting that off. The longer she waited, the more likely it was that her mom would find out about him some other way. She had been thinking about it a lot, though, and was pretty sure that the plan she had come up with would have the best results.

[o]

Not long after sunset, a knock sounded on the door, and Angel put his book down and went to open it. As he had expected, his visitor was Buffy. His eyes crinkled in a smile that barely touched his mouth. She smiled back and he moved aside to let her enter, then closed the door.

"Something bothering you?" he asked.

Buffy chuckled. He could read her so well that it was almost unnerving, but it did give her an opening into the subject. "I think we need to tell Mom about you—us," she said.

Angel winced slightly. "How are we going to get around what I said to her last year?" he asked.

"She knows I'm the Slayer now, and she's trying to be all super-supportive about it. Plus, she found out that you're a vampire right around when I dropped the Slayer bomb on her."

"Oh."

"I thought maybe if I talked to her and then you came over for dinner, it could be okay. I mean," she snorted, "if Mom can give Spike hot chocolate and relationship advice, she should be able to handle this."

"Your mom gave Spike hot chocolate?" asked Angel. Despite the oddness of the concept, it was strangely easy to picture. Spike had always been emotionally needy—a quality he attempted to hide beneath the violent, snarky exterior. Angel shook his head. "Let me know when you've talked to her about dinner."

"I will," she said, feeling a small portion of her stress drain away. Most of it was still there, however, and it pressed down on her uncomfortably. "There's something else, too."

"What?" he asked.

"My new Watcher showed up today."

"Not what you expected?"

"Well, I wanted to get a Giles two-point-oh, but the Council was fresh out." They sat down on the couch together and Buffy leaned her head against Angel's shoulder. "He already doesn't like me for some reason, so he'd probably call in the tweed cavalry if he found out about you."

"I'll be careful," said Angel with a smirk, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer.

Buffy grinned teasingly. "Yeah, 'cause you can do that sexy melt-into-the-shadows thing whenever he shows up."

"Sexy, huh?" he asked, his smirk broadening. He bent his head and kissed her, but she broke away fairly quickly.

"Hey," she said, poking him warningly in the chest, "sexy or not, you only get to do it when he shows up."

"Okay," he said, grinning and resuming the kiss.

Though it started out playful and innocent, it did not remain so. Soon, it surpassed the kiss they had shared in the alley outside the boarding house as each crushed the other to them with all of their considerable strength. It wasn't until several minutes later that they came to their senses, and, with no small amount of effort, broke apart.

"I, um. I should go," said Buffy uncomfortably, standing up and straightening her shirt. "I'm supposed to be finding an amulet."

"Want help?" asked Angel slightly hoarsely, standing as well and walking with her to the door.

"Nah," she said casually, trying to ignore the painful ache in her chest. "Stuffy new Watcher-man says the amulet belongs to a dead demon and that the sword guy from last night's buddies just wanted something to remember him by, or whatever. No biggie." She stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a very brief goodbye kiss, then departed.

So here I go with alternate "Bad Girls", giving Buffy and Wesley bonus, albeit misguided, reasons to dislike each other. Even though most of the lines in the conversation with Wesley, Giles, and Buffy were from canon, the emotions behind them (mostly Wesley's) were not (hence the conversation being from his perspective). I almost went through that entire dialogue, but then realized that I could accomplish what I needed to with much less. And then some lovely Buffy/Angel snoggage! Yay!