Wesley Wyndham-Pryce had been her third watcher, assigned to her by the Council after Giles had been fired for daring to help her in passing that dreadful test, or at least that's what he'd been in the Sunnydale delusion. Still, here he looked almost identical. What is real is false and what is false is real. We find ourselves drifting on the sea of perception.
Right. The voices in her head weren't exactly all that helpful at the moment, not when she was paying attention to Wesley while he pointed his shotgun at her. One who Watches, the voices had said, but Dru had confirmed it. That meant… something. She'd greeted him, but he seemed a little confused.
"I won't hurt you, Wesley," Buffy said, keeping her hands visible. "I just want to talk."
"You know me?" Wesley asked, not lowering the gun. Great. She'd have to deal with his paranoia about vampires. She couldn't really blame him, but it was still annoying. "You want to talk? Talk."
Still, back in Sunnydale, Wesley hadn't been all that great at his job. He hadn't been this. Comparing Wesley to how he'd acted in Sunnydale would probably be futile. She needed to focus on how she'd heard he'd been when he worked with Angel. Despite how Liam was in the Asylum, Angel had been a good man and judge of character. Wesley's performance in LA significantly outshined how he'd been when he had arrived just out of Watcher school. This Wesley had clearly slain more of her kind, and he wouldn't hesitate to shoot her again out of hand. She had to respect that, even if it hurt.
Life=pain. Or perhaps unlife=pain. Forgetful and lost and not dealing with anything from kine stories. A ring is unnecessary, of any color.
"You do some work for someone by the name of Nest. Trade of information, maybe, or he sends you hunting things. Spirits or vampires, right?" Buffy asked. "Or maybe he gets the information from you. A Watcher."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Wesley's hold on the gun seemed to loosen. Disillusioned with life, he barters with death. The watchful are blind and yet they see everything.
"Yes you do," Buffy said. "You know what I talk about, about she who is Chosen. About what your duty is to her."
What she didn't say, what she wanted to say, was that she had been the Slayer, the one who fought Lothos at Hemery, but she didn't. Not until she could get Wesley on her side. Still, it probably would have been easier, or it would have gotten him shooting again. She really wasn't sure whether she wanted to try that out until he fully lowered the gun.
"You're speaking nonsense." Wesley's grip loosened. Clearly he didn't really believe the words that he was saying, and Buffy knew it. She didn't need any strange voice to tell her anything of the sort, and she was pretty sure that the Watcher would at least hear her out. There is reason they aren't called listeners. They watch. They judge. They place. They force. They took her into chains and bound her with one of the God-Machine's processes, forcing it to Fall.
"You are or were a member of the Watcher's Council. Perhaps you were sent to replace Merrick, after he died," Buffy said, sadness tinging her voice. Her first Watcher hadn't deserved the death he'd gotten, and that was something she was pretty sure happened here as well. Merrick was real. He'd died here too, that much she was sure of. Maybe mentioning the council itself was a bad idea, but she needed Wesley's help to kill the demon. After all, if vampires were real, maybe it was possible that the Slayer was real too. "Your job is to train the Vampire Slayer, to advise her on what she'll face. Preferably having her not kill good vampires."
Wesley's face screwed up into a scowl, and he tightened his grip on the barrel of the shotgun. Great. The Council prejudices still held some. "There's no such—"
"Animal?" Buffy cocked her head, letting her fangs show. Maybe he'd believe her. "I don't kill humans as a rule, Wesley, even if I need to feed on them. From what I can tell, only some vampires do."
Let the kine return, heal, and then be fed upon again. The joy they feel, the rush… exquisite. Oh sure. Now the voices wanted to find alternate reasons for her not feeding unto death. It couldn't be enough that she just didn't want to kill anyone. Never mind the fact that she had, and it had felt amazing. She still had her soul. She still had her conscience. Mostly. Probably. It just had an off switch.
"I shouldn't believe you," Wesley said, lowering his gun fully, at last. Maybe she'd gotten through to him. "But for some reason I don't feel you will attack me."
"Not if you don't attack first," Buffy said, her eyes flicking to follow the gun before locking onto the Watcher's face. He refused to meet her eyes, and from what she could tell, that was probably a smart idea on his part. Not that she'd try to control him, even if she could, but it was good practice when dealing with the rest of her kind. "Now, can you help me or not?"
"I didn't say anything about helping you, vampire." Great, now they were going around in circles. Just when she'd thought she'd gotten some progress.
Plus, her name wasn't vampire, it was, "Buffy."
"What?" Wesley sounded confused. Good. it'd hopefully get the stick out of his ass and let her work with him. The ass-stick removal process is a multi-day procedure that requires inch by inch unpenetration. The average Watcher takes two years with how large the stick is.
"Buffy. It's not that hard to pronounce." She looked toward where her former prey had started coming back into his own, making his way back toward the restaurant that he worked at. Delicious as he'd been, he would hopefully have enough left in his system that he could replenish as the night went on.
"Your name is Buffy." Wesley's confusion seemed to go away, but his grip on the gun tightened, even lowered as it was.
"Yep," Buffy said. He speaks of madness, of watchful slides. Let him be consumed by that which he desires most. Time and space beckon as a god-king dies.
And that was… probably just nonsense. Sort of. She'd have to keep an eye on Wesley if he'd let her still be around. She wouldn't turn him, of course. No need to deal with the jester on how he wanted to handle things, but keeping an eye and making sure he remained safe seemed the best bet. Plus, she could use a contact outside the whole political arena that the Camarilla totally were. It'd probably help if someone tried to do something unsavory.
"Buffy Summers?" Wesley asked, and then immediately seemed torn between raising his gun and lowering it. "Slayer, Buffy Summers?"
He fights teachings he does not fully understand. Vampire. Slayer. Ne'er the two shall mix. Until they did, in you, figura mea. Julia? No. She'd seen Julia dust. She'd lost her sire the previous night, and… she needed to deal with Wesley.
"Not Summers anymore," said Buffy. "Not anymore. I walk and talk, yet I breathe not, Watcher-man. I have a job to do, and I need your brain. Your knowledge."
"You were to be my Slayer, the one I kept watch over, but I found you were in an institution," Wesley said. "I saw you, once. You were catatonic."
"I had hallucinations," Buffy said, in explanation. She wouldn't go into the full details with him as they ultimately didn't matter. "And you were there, and so many more people. Perhaps… you were there when you were there. Perhaps not."
"And now you are a vampire," Wesley said. She heard anger in his voice, like her being a vampire was her choice. Like she'd wanted to be a crazy creature of the night. I have a theory, they got the mustard out.
"One that needs your help. I won't harm you, I swear," Buffy said, ignoring the voices. Sometimes that really was the best answer, even if they were distracting.. "You can work with me, honest."
"A creature such as yourself claiming honesty," Wesley scoffed. It was obvious that he didn't want to work with her, but at least he hadn't raised the gun again. The shells had stung when they were pushing out of her flesh.
"I was to be your Slayer. You want to be a Watcher, Mister Wyndham-Pryce, act like one." Buffy crossed her arms. Rogue demons to hunt, kine to find and drink. Blood is life and life is blood and hunt is death and life everlasting…
"How is it you know my name?" Wesley asked.
"How do you know of the stars in the sky?" Buffy asked, the answer coming unbidden to her lips. Sometimes the voices don't like being ignored. Clearly, even if everything she said made sense. "Names are fickle things, you just need to listen to hear."
Wesley shook his head. He clearly didn't understand something that was so clear to her. "So, you still remain addled, even in death. What are you wanting?"
"To kill a demon," Buffy said plainly. It really was a simple task she was proposing. She just needed Wesley to tell her the kind of demon and how to kill it. That was his job, after all.
"Impossible," Wesley said. "Demons are nigh indestructible."
"Slayer," Buffy said simply. After all, if Wesley believed that the Slayer was real, Merrick had been real, and vampires were real, why wouldn't the Slayer be? Pity it took her turning into a vampire to realize that was even possible, but that was the way things went. Explosions and crosses. Lines and circles. Death and taxes. Fear and loathing. Demonology is full of secrets. Let us suck them out one by one.
"If it is a demon, a true demon, rather than some thing masquerading as one, it is a Fallen Angel, and it can and will kill you if you try," Wesley said. "And the world would be rid of one more vampire. So, go ahead."
"Okay one, hey! Two, I might not even need to kill it." Buffy shook her head. "It's making the Hyperion Hotel all uninhabitaty; I just need to get it out of there."
Buffy didn't mention why she needed it that way, an elaborate way to get someone to trust her so that Nest and Therese Voerman could work together feasibly. Of course, this could result in the destruction of any of them, but she needed the brownie points with the jester. She didn't like her current sanctuary, after all.
Speaking of sanctuaries, Buffy glanced toward the sky. She still had some time, but she needed to make it back home soon. She didn't want to be caught here when the sun rose. Call it a hunch, but she thought she wouldn't tan all that well. Nonsense! Just put on SPF 1,000,000,000 sunscreen, and it won't burn at all.
"The Hyperion, you say?" Wesley asked, a pensive look coming to his face. She recognized that look from when Giles would think and have an ah-ha moment. "I've heard about that. A mass killing in the fifties, and it's been condemned since. Are you sure it's a demon?"
"I was told so," Buffy said, glancing to the sky. Still twilight. She'd be fine. "Can you help me find out a way to drive it out?"
"I suppose I can look through some books..." Wesley murmured. He clearly had his curiosity piqued, something she would consider a good thing as long as she didn't have to do the research herself.
"Good." Buffy smiled at him, showing a bit of fang. Always good to remind the kine what they are. Whom they should serve. "I'll meet you at the diner on third around nine at night. See you."
Buffy turned and ran down the alleyway, not even giving Wesley a chance to respond as she started to make her way back to her sanctuary. Her bed beckoned, and she was already looking forward to a good day's rest before a proper Slaying.
