Heat

The library was near to silent; quieter than Wesley had ever heard with the children present. Even Willow and Xander were speechless, absorbing the news.

"So," Xander finally said, "Uh, what'd we do about this?"

Wesley cleared his throat, licking his lips before he began.

"May I suggest we call the Council? This isn't the first time something like this has happened, there are . . . procedures to-to deal with it."

"This has happened before?" Xander leaned forward, his eyes on Wesley, making the young Watcher nervous.

"Yes," Giles answered from his place by the office door. Wes heard the older man's footsteps, and then felt the heat from Giles' body as he settled himself on the table not far away. "Uh, Slayers being on the front lines, it has, well, it's happened in the past."

"It was quick," Buffy supplied, "I, I only realized just, a second or so before . . ."

"Yes, exactly," Giles removed his glasses, polishing them and Wesley had forced his eyes away from the man's fingers.

Stop it! He ordered himself, turning his gaze first to the table and then to the others.

"However," Giles continued, "I don't believe that the Council is the best option."

Wes opened his mouth to disagree, but Giles quickly continued.

"It's only that Faith is in complete denial and . . . I don't think such a confrontational approach is . . . necessarily going to help her. We need her to know she can trust us, come to us, and calling the Council--"

"Will seems as if we're abandoning her, handing her off to be someone else's problem," Wesley nodded, conceding the point, for once, gracefully. He might not have, under other circumstances, but Giles was taking the time to listen, to explain his feelings on the matter and . . . well, perhaps Wesley was more disposed to listen than he would have been just a few days ago.

Is this . . . relationship clouding my perceptions? The thought worried him greatly. His admiration of Giles had only grown in the past few days. Especially, once he had seen a side to the man other than the sarcastic wit so often pitted against him. Or, rather, now that he had seen it in more than mere glimpses aimed at the children. The thought of losing their fragile relationship made him feel jittery and out of focus. Still, his primary duty lay with the Council. Would he be betraying that duty by concurring with Giles' plans?

Wesley tried to detach himself from the situation, tried to decide what he would do were he not . . . in his current position. Did Giles have a point? Yes. Was he agreeing with the point or agreeing with Giles simply because he was Giles? No, Wesley decided. He did believe that Faith would feel handed off, but . . . did that matter?

Wesley's eyes travel to Buffy, considering. Before he'd come to Sunnydale, he knew his immediate answer would be that it didn't. That Faith was a weapon, as was Buffy, but . . . he'd read Giles' journals, he'd seen her laughing with her friends. He'd seen Faith laugh once or twice and . . . he sometimes forgot to think of them as Slayers at all.

Was that his problem or was that the way it should be? Giles obviously saw something more in Buffy than the weapon the Council called her . . . Does he see more in me than the Watcher?

The question struck him hard and Wesley blinked, considering. He was a Watcher, all his life had known he would be. There was no other way than his father's way, of course, but . . . was he only a Watcher?

He snapped back to the conversation just as Xander was suggesting he should go to speak with Faith.

"Well, I can be the one . . . on her one." Xander paused, apparently realizing how that had sounded. "Let's rephrase. I think she might listen to me. We kind of have, um, a connection."

"A connection? Why would you think that. . ." Buffy shook her head, looking askance at the young man. Wesley, realizing what the boy was saying, merely looked away, his mind heading off in another direction.

Shouldn't he be the one to talk to Faith? As little as she and Buffy seemed to think of it, he was her Watcher. He was willing to cede Buffy to Giles, the two of them . . . he was beginning to understand that he could never take Giles' place there, but Faith needed a Watcher, he needed a Slayer. Perhaps he could even begin to forge a bond with the young woman similar to the one Giles had somehow created with Buffy.

He smiled a little at that, daydreams filling his head before the Council's view of such an idea came crashing in to ruin them. They'd sacked Giles for the bond he and Buffy shared, but . . . perhaps they were wrong in doing so. That didn't change much. They would do the same to him in a moment and then where would he be?

His heart pounded hard at the thought, the disapproval he knew he'd receive from his father making him swallow hard against the lump in his throat. Then Giles' hand brushed his shoulder, quite by accident, he was sure, but Wesley felt the tension in his stomach ease at once.

He was more than a Watcher.

"Then why would you . . ." Buffy paused, seeming to have finally caught on, "Oh."

"Oh!" Giles echoed, polishing his glasses with a vaguely disturbed expression.

All eyes turned to Willow who shrugged. "I don't need to say 'oh'. I got it before. They slept together."

"Fine, fine, let's, let's, let's move on," Giles insisted and Wesley had to smile a little at seeing the older man flustered.

"All right. Look, I-I know that you mean well, Xander, but, um, I-I just don't see Faith opening up to you." Buffy looked to Xander, not unkindly, saying, "She doesn't take the guys that she has a . . .'connection' with very seriously. And they're, they're kind of a big joke to her. No offense."

"Oh, no! I mean, why would I be offended by that," Xander quipped, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

Giles stepped in, trying to turn the topic back to helping Faith, were it belonged. While his attention was elsewhere, Wesley made up his mind. He wanted to talk to Faith, wanted to get through to her and . . . he wanted to do this right, do something right. Slipping quietly away, Wesley soon found himself before Faith's motel room door.

It was almost as if someone else's hand raised to knock. His heart was pounding. This was his chance to show Giles, and the others, that he wasn't some prat that always screwed things up. He could help; he could be useful.