(no subject)
Well, I never. Such a rude little girl I stared at her retreating back, huffed and then turned to stomp back inside. I wasn’t about to go anywhere dressed like this and without shoes. Why was I dress like this? Where were my shoes. Where the bloody hell were my shoes?! As if I, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce would be caught dead in this kind of clothes. I’d have gone to hell and back first before I’d wear something like this.
Nearly tripping over the dog - yet another mystery - I stumbled back inside. I knew what I had to do, I’d seen a telephone inside that apartment. I was going to call The Council and demand an explanation. I have never seen a test set up so poorly. Good god, even father cannot find fault in anything I’m forced to do here. Can he? He probably could.
Yanking the phone of the hook, I paused to puzzle of the lack of a cord before I noticed something. There were several buttons on the phone, with names. ‘Willow‘, ‘Buffy‘, and one said ‘Council/Giles’. They were neatly typed out, I saw, clearly indicating that this couldn’t be the work of that violent woman I woke up with here. The next thing that took me by surprise, was the fact that Edward Giles’, since he was the only Giles working for The Council, was the name next to the Council number. A number, I may add, I did not recognize.
Curious.
Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and finally pressed the button, putting the cordless receiver to my ear. Poor man, that Edward Giles. Must be hard for him with a son like that. Luckily he’s returned to the fold after his dilly dallying around with that Rayne chap. Black chaos art, really now. Calling himself Ripper. I was still snorting when there suddenly was a voice on the other end of the phone the did sound vaguely like Edward Giles. I mean, I’ve only met the man twice.
“Giles,” the gruff voice came. “What is it Faith? Did it work?”
Faith? Who is Faith? Or did he mean fate? Or faith? “Uhm…” I stood up straighter and cleared my throat. “Uhm this is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, sir, Mister Giles. Errr…. “ And what?
“Wesley?” Giles voice sounded surprised and shocked at the same time. “Good god man. I didn’t think it would work so fast. Where is Faith?”
Was this part of the test as well? I shuffled on my feet awkwardly and tried to figure out what he wanted me to say. “Uhm, Mister Giles sir. Ah, I’ve no idea who this Faith is you’re talking about. I just… “ Fumbling around for words that would come, I just blurted it out. “I think something went wrong with the Council test.”
Silence.
“And I’m very sorry to hear about your son,” I added lamely when the silence stretched a bit to long. “I’m sure you’re very glad to have him back into the fold.”
“My son? What are you talking about? Wesley, who do you think I am?”
“Well, Edward Giles of course,” I said, sounding more then a little indignant. “Look, Mister Giles sir. I’m all for testing your Watcher. But really, can you not find better potentials to do these test with? The girl I…found myself with here is rude ,violent and lacks any form of control. I have to say her Watcher has taught her poorly.”
More silence.
“Ah,” Giles voice came again, suddenly sounding more tired then I felt. “I’ll be sure to inform him of that, Wesley.” He sighed and muttered something about amateurs and magic, how we should be grateful the twit had not performed a mind melt. Which was followed by a yelp and him shouting at some Andrew to ‘cut it out with the star trek crap’. Andrew? Andrews? That’s probably, probably Sinclear Andrews. Git.
“Mister Giles?” The uncertainly creeping in my voice. “Uhm… I-I’m not sure what to do now.”
“First I need to know where Faith, ah the potential went.”
“She stormed off in a huff. No doubt prowling the streets of Las Vegas. Which is another thing I’d like to know about. Why Las Veg--”
“Not now, Wesley. I need you to go out and find Faith. She’s important to the Council and…” It was obvious he wanted to say something more, but for reasons which were unclear, didn’t finish that line of thought.
“Well, I can’t go out dressed like this,” I whined, glancing at my attire.
“What the bloody hell does it matter what you wear, man,” Giles nearly shouted.
“But I have no shoes!’
“Oh, alright. Fine. In the closet in the master bedroom, you’ll find a chest. All the way in the back. I’m sure you’ll be able to find some clothes there.” Then I heard him call out to this Andrews again to book a flight to Las Vegas *now*. “Here’s what I want you to do, Wesley. Find Faith and bring her back here. I’ll be there shortly. I may contact Willow and Ken-- Never mind that, you probably don’t know who they are either.”
The man is babbling. Perhaps the burden of his son had made him a bit twitchy? No matter, I was glad there was someone who seemed to know what to do. “Master bedroom, chest in the back of the closet. I can do that. Uh…what-what do I do if this Faith person wont come with? She didn’t seem very amendable.”
“Then stay with her and keep her safe,” Giles replied grimly. “Do you Watcher duty, boy. Now hop to it, and I’ll be there shortly. And-and Wesley? For gods sake, be careful yourself. I don‘t think she can handle loosing you twice.”
And with that, he hung up, leaving me behind rather confused. Not to mention bewildered. Loosing me twice? Whom? I wasn't....well, perhaps I was a bit lost. This must be the most extreme test the Council has ever undertaken. And I’m in it. Take that, Father. Hah.
Okay, closet in the master bedroom.
When I got there, I noticed a rather grubby blanket in it, with some splotches of blood on it. Odd that. Sighing, I tossed it aside and dove into the closet. There was indeed a chest there, filled with books that made my mouth water. I’d have to look in on those later, but right now I needed clothes. I found a pair of faded jeans and a green shirt that both looked as though they’d been washed one to many times. On them were barely there drops of red…blood? What was with this place?
They looked to big for me, but when I pulled them on - not having anything better to wear - I was surprised to find they…fit like a glove. Amazing by that, I shrugged and took some of the weapons that were in the chest as well. A wrist stake, rather ingenious and a gun. Heavens, a gun, how violent.
“Right then,” I mumbled to myself, or possibly the dog who never left my side. “If I were a rude, trouble seeking potential Slayer. Where would I be?”