Heat

"I, uh, I came to-to talk to you, about . . . what happened. I, uh, I thought you might need someone to talk to about it." Wesley realized he was all but babbling, but his mind suddenly deserted him. He had no idea how to breach the topic really. How did one even begin to explain something like this?

Faith snorted, stepping back to let him inside. "So, why aren't you talking to Buffy then? I guess Giles got that assignment?"

"No, uh, there was no assignment. I, uh, Faith . . ." Wesley wasn't sure what to do with himself. He stood, hands at his side, trying to come up with the right words. There had to be right words. Giles would know what to say and why had he ever thought he'd be able to do this? "I know that it was an accident. I understand how quickly things happened and--"

"So? Again, I say why aren't you talking to B? She's the one who 'accidentally'" Faith raised her hands, making little quotation marks in the air, "offed a guy. Me? I've got nothing to talk about."

The young woman pulled herself up to sit her chest of drawers, giving Wes a bored look as she fidgeted with her fingernails.

"I know that isn't true," Wesley said, trying to get through to her, to let her know that he was on her side and wanted to help. "I know that it was you, Faith and I'm willing to do all I can to help you, but--"

"Is this the part where you say, 'if you don't tell anyone that I'm screwing the old guy'? Cause, frankly, I think Buffy and the others oughta know that." There was a nasty smirk on the girl's face as she slipped from the chest of drawers, crossing her arms over her stomach.

"What?" Wesley blinked at her, his voice a little more shrill than he'd have liked.

"Well, he is kinda like their dad and all. Don't you think they should know that kinda stuff? How do you think they'd react, Wes? Huh? How do you think Buffy and Willow and Xander would react?"

"You're trying to put me on the defensive," Wesley said, keeping his voice calm, measured, unwilling to give away any more than he already had. "It isn't going to work Faith. Please, I'm on your side and--"

"No one is 'on my side'," she shouted, before clenching her jaw. Wesley blinked, glad when she seemed to calm down. "I don’t have a side here. Can't you get that through your head?"

"You have to admit that you made a mistake, Faith. It happens. It's horrible and it's hard and it feels like the end of the world--"

"What the hell would you know about it, you prissy little momma's boy? How would you know what the hell anything's like?" Faith advanced on him, but Wes refused to back down, holding his stance even when she got right in his face.

"Faith, I can help you, if you'll let me. The Council--"

"What? You called those freaks on me?"

"No! No, I want to forge a connection with you, like--"

"A connection?" Faith raised an eyebrow, snorting. "And here I thought you weren't batting for that team. What, the old man can't keep up with you?"

"What? Good lord, Faith, that's not wh-what I meant!"

"Uh-huh, sure it isn't." She took another step closer and this time Wesley did step back, trying to put some distance between them, but Faith kept coming and Wes hit the wall. He swallowed hard, realizing he'd put himself in the room with an angry Slayer, far stronger and quicker than he'd ever be.

Faith pressed against him, her eyes hard as stone.

"You don't want to do this, Faith, neither of us wants this. I just want to help you face this thing and you can, I know you're scared, but you--"

"Shut up! God! Is talking all you ever do? Just . . . just shut up!" Then Faith's hands were around his throat, pressing into bruises left there just the other night. Wes wanted to shout at her to stop, but he couldn't get the air into lungs and her hands were so strong. He thrashed, manicured nails too short to do much damage. The world began to go black around the edges.

He was barely conscious when the door flew open, slamming into Faith and knocking her back. He tried to stand, blinking away the black sparks that had invaded his vision as Angel and . . . Giles came into the room.

Then Faith was up and shouting, her words incoherent to Wes' ringing ears. Giles came to him, giving him an arm to lean against.

"Come along, I think Angel can handle this," Giles says, voice calm and soothing even through the bells clattering in Wes' ears. "Let's get you out of here."

There was shouting behind them, the sound of something breaking, but Wesley was too busy sucking in air through his aching throat to care very much. Giles helped him into the car and it felt so familiar that Wesley wanted to weep. He'd done it again; screwed up again. But Giles was also there again, hands gentle as he buckled the seat belt.

"I'm . . . I'm fine," he croaked when Giles slid into the driver's seat.

"You're not fine," and Giles' voice sounded strained and angry.

He'd known the older man would be cross and he could hardly blame him. This had to be the most idiotic thing he'd done to date.

"I know . . . it was . . . stupid . . . I'm . . . sorry to make . . . you have to . . . help me again. I just . . . wanted to help, to . . . prove I'm not . . . useless."

Giles' hand froze on the keys and he turned to look at Wesley. "She hurt you. It's not your fault, Wesley. I . . . I understand why you did it. You're her Watcher, you feel responsible for her. That's the way it's supposed to be. I . . . only wish you'd asked me to come along."

Wesley gaped at the older man as he started the car, trying to process all those words and come out with something that made sense.

"You're . . . not . . . angry?"

"At you? No, but . . . Faith is lucky it's Angel in there."

Wesley opened his mouth to reply but . . . what could he say to that? He slipped lower in his seat, forehead furrowing as he tried to work out what all this meant. Giles wasn't angry with him. He wished Wesley had thought to ask him along. Faith was lucky to be fighting a vampire with over two-hundred years of life . . .

It didn't add up in his oxygen-deprived brain, but it made him feel warm inside.