Invitation to Change

Wesley pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his forehead, unwillingly acknowledging the increasing headache. The words on the page blurred without his glasses, not that they had given him any help when they had been clear. He set his glasses down with a clatter and slammed the book closed. Guilt bit at him as his father's voice echoed in his head, reprimanding him for such callous treatment of a sacred text. He let his head sink to the table top, the weight of his failures dragging his shoulders lower. The pull of his empty hotel room with its small closet had him cringing at his own pathetic conditioning. But as much as there had been terror and fear in being locked into that small space under the stairs, there had been a paradoxical comfort in knowing that locked safely away, he could not further compound his crimes with additional mistakes. The Sunnydale High School Library offered no such safety. Nor was it offering him any helpful insight into finding a cure for Angel beyond the unacceptable one that Buffy seemed hell-bent on pursuing. Faith may have turned against them, but she was still, well, okay she wasn't his slayer, but he still felt the burden of responsibility for her.


"Wesley?"

Startled, Wesley groped for his glasses as he rose from the table, knocking over his chair in the process. He was saved from following the chair to the floor by a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Giles," Wesley gathered himself and pulled away. "You startled me."

"So it would appear. I didn't expect to find anyone here at this hour."

Wesley looked down, unable to face Giles, feeling the blush pound furiously under his skin. He cursed himself for the fumbling that always took over in this man's presence.

"Was there something you needed?" Giles picked up the book, frowning at the cover. "MacBain's Compendium?"

Wesley reached out for the book, but Giles pulled it back out of reach, turning the frown on Wesley. "I very much hope you weren't planning on attempting any of these spells on your own."

Straightening his jacket, Wesley attempted to push away his reaction to the implied criticism. Of course he knew his magical prowess did not begin to match that of Giles, but it still stung to have it pointed out so blatantly. "Of course not. If you'll excuse me, I'll be out of your way."

"Wesley, wait." Giles watched the younger man with concern. He had seen the pain in the other Watcher's eyes as Buffy told him that neither he nor the Council was welcome in Sunnydale any longer. At the time, he had sided with his slayer, remaining silent in the face of her decision to quit the Council. Now he found himself more sympathetic for Wesley's situation, so out of place in Southern California, faced with slayers that he could not begin to understand or connect with in any meaningful way.

"Yes?" Wesley answered without turning around.

"What was it you were looking for?"

"It's rather a moot point. As you pointed out, these are not spells that I should be attempting." Wesley held himself stiffly as he faced Giles.

"Humour me."

Wesley searched for an easy explanation, but his search for spells was too tangled up with all of the other topics that he wanted to avoid. He grasped on the only acceptable excuse that came to mind. "I was searching for something that might help us prevent the mayor's ascension."

"In a book of spells that apply chiefly to the undead?"

"Well, the mayor, as we know, is not exactly human, so I thought perhaps..."

"Wesley," Giles interrupted the stammering attempt to convince him of what was clearly a lie. "It's not a crime to be looking for alternative means to cure Angel."

"I wasn't.."

"Dammit, Wes," Giles banged the book down on the table, stepping toward the protesting man. "Despite current evidence, you are not a stupid man, and clearly this text has nothing to do with demonic ascensions." He took a deep breath as he recognized that Wesley had stepped back in apparent fear. "Now, I understand that you might not want the Council to know what avenues you are pursuing here, but you can hardly think that I'm going to be calling them."

"No, of course not." Wesley glanced around the library, looking desperately for a way to change the subject. The Council was not something he wished to discuss, not even with the one person who would most be able to sympathize with his current situation.

"Let's start again, shall we?" Giles stepped back and automatically pulled his glasses off and began polishing them. He hadn't meant to speak so sharply, and he recognized that his own stress over the escalating situation with the forces allied against them had him as much on edge as his unexpected concern for the man who had been both a rival and unwanted attraction.

"It's late," Wesley pointed out, wishing he had the ability to simply walk out, but unable to go against his breeding by exhibiting such ill manners.

"Wesley, sit down," Giles sighed and replaced his glasses. "Tea?"

"No, thank you. That won't be necessary." Wesley settled uneasily back into his chair and stared at his hands clenched on the table top. Exhaustion began to replace his tension.

"I wanted to apologize for Buffy's words earlier at the mansion."

"No," Wesley said quietly, "She was entirely right in her decision not to follow the Council's dictates."

"I was referring to her dismissal of you, her admonition to 'get a job.'" Giles settled in the seat next to Wesley, watching with increasing concern as Wesley flinched.

"As it turns out, she was entirely right in that as well."

"Pardon?"

"In point of fact, I am no longer employed by the Council."

Giles swallowed his surprise. "Oh. I see."

"Yes, it seems that they don't have much use for a Watcher who manages to lose one slayer to evil and causes another to turn from the Council entirely." Wesley stood up, intending to end the conversation and escape the library before he lost his composure entirely.

"Wesley," Giles couldn't prevent himself from reaching out and grasping Wesley by the arm. The man's pain was palpable, and he knew from experience how it felt to have a life's calling taken away in a single blow. Wesley stood rigidly, not attempting to pull away, but not looking at Giles either. "I'm truly sorry. You deserve better than to be summarily dismissed."

"No," Wesley lifted his gaze to meet Giles's concerned expression, "I don't. As you pointed out, I'm not stupid, and I can recognize that I have proven myself to be a liability to the Council's efforts." He spoke with conviction engendered by the echoes of his father's announcement of his dismissal. How appropriate that the man who set his life on this course should be the one to undo it.

"The bloody Council," Giles spoke with a quiet anger, "has no concept of what it means to work with a slayer in this day and age."

"They know enough to remove me," Wesley closed his eyes in shame at the bitterness in the comment.

"No," Giles spoke with an urgency that he didn't define to himself, "their inflexibility undermined any chance you had to work with either Faith or Buffy. It's hardly a mark of their wisdom to dismiss you for following their way of doing things to the bloody letter."

"Let me go, please." Wesley spoke formally to cover his consternation. After all that had happened, Giles could hardly be defending him against the Council. He couldn't allow himself to believe that Giles might actually care.

"No," Giles repeated, more softly this time. "I don't think I will."

"I beg your pardon?" Wesley stammered, the flush returning to his face in full force. He felt far too aware of the warmth of Giles hand on his arm.

Giles grinned a slightly predatory grin as he stepped closer, and he brought his other hand up to cup Wesley's cheek as he acknowledged the attraction that he had worked so very hard to ignore. "You can beg if you like, but I don't believe that will be necessary."

"Giles?" Wesley's eyes widened. He wanted to look away, to prevent Giles from reading the neediness that suffused him with the older man so close and gazing at him with a compelling mixture of want and compassion.

"Shh," Giles whispered as he stroked a thumb over Wesley's lips. "Let me show you." He leaned forward and captured Wesley's lips in a kiss that quickly had Wesley reaching up to grasp at Giles in return.

"Show me what?" Wesley gasped out when the kiss broke.

"Show you what you are," Giles kissed him briefly, "what you can be." He pulled Wesley close, giving in to the want and ignoring the voice telling him that he was moving far too quickly. But Wesley wasn't struggling to leave any longer, and his eyes shone with hope and pain and a need that Giles couldn't ignore.

With Giles strong arms around him, Wesley allowed himself to let go of the tight reign on his emotions. Still unsure but wanting desperately to find a way out of the loneliness and failure that had dogged him one of his days in Sunnydale, Wesley gave in to his impulse and murmured against Giles lips.

"Show me."

It was a request that Giles was more than happy to oblige, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue against Wesley's lips, which parted immediately, welcoming him. They stood together, the kiss as the only movement between them.

With a final nip at Wesley's lips, Giles ended the kiss in order to speak, but Wesley's murmured, "Thank you" silenced him.

"Come on. It's late, and we face the ascension in two days time. I think perhaps some rest is in order."

"Of course," Wesley dropped his gaze and moved to step away, but Giles didn't allow him to move.

"This isn't a rejection." When Wesley looked up at him with an oddly engaging mixture of hope and uncertainty, Giles continued. "It's an invitation to come home with me where we might find more comfortable surroundings."

Wesley looked around at the library, memories of endless confrontations with the Sunnydale group flooding his mind. "Yes," he whispered, "I think I would like that very much."

They came together for a gentle kiss and then left the library, leaving the book of spells abandoned on the table.