(no subject)
If someone would've told me a year ago that I'd be in Sunnydale with Faith Hanley? I might've believed them. But if they'd told me I'd be there after I had helped her break out of jail, jumping from a third story window, then patched her up, figured out there was something odd about the people who were about to kill her and then wound up in Sunnydale again? I'd have thought them quite mad. Well, for the jail breaking and the patching up part that is. Because let's be honest, why the hell would I want to break Faith of all people out of jail, or patch her up.
But I've learned since then. I've been 'to the dark side' as they so dramatically call it. I understand her a lot better now.
But since we've arrived in Sunnydale, Faith has been acting even more strangely. Seeing people when there are no people. Seeing... I don't even know who she'd all been seeing. So far she had mentioned the Mayor, who was quite dead. And Angel, whom I really would've noticed standing in the same room. I may not even have made it out that same room alive if Angel were in it. And since I am currently walking to my room? Angel was and is not here.
Maybe being in jail has affected her brain? One never knows.
Sighing I went into my room and quickly took a shower. I didn't bring along a whole lot. We left Los Angeles as kind of a spur of the moment thing. We knew the key to whatever was going on had to be in Sunnydale. That those bringers were probably going to end up here. I knew about the myth of course, but not much else. I needed to talk to Giles about that. He was probably better versed in what was going on. At least that was my hope.
Which went right alone with the one that was hoping Giles was actually *in* Sunnydale.
I was about to find out. I dressed in some jeans and a sweater, making sure it looked properly. I may not be the same pratt who once came to Sunnydale as a young upstart. Wanting to do everything by the book. God, I'd ben such a fool. But I still respected Giles more then enough to worry a little about my appearances. Not that I could do much about it. I sighed again and started out the hotel. I past Faith's room and could hear the television blaring through the door. Well, at least she was occupied.
The walk over to where Giles used to live was quite refreshing. If one didn't know this was a hellmouth, it would've been a nice sunny day. His old house didn't look very lived in, but one never knew. I'd known he'd gone to England, so it may be highly likely that he wasn't here at all. But one must always try, my dear father had always said. Probably still did, old badger.
I was about to knock on the door when it swung open. Startled I took a step back and frowned at the man who had opened the door. It would seem I wasn't the only one who had changed. Was that an earing? Good Lord. How the mighty have fallen.
"Wesley?" Giles said, blinking at my own appearance as though he wasn't certain. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?" He frowned, his eyes resting on the scar on my throat.
My hand automatically came up to cover it and I had to fight not to cast my eyes down. "Just Wesley has always been sufficient for you," I said softly.
"Quite," he nodded. "Good god man! What happened to you?" It would seem Giles didn't give a rat arse about British stoic traditions these's days.
Sighing I looked down. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about 'what had happened to me'. I wasn't quite ready to see the disappointment in his eyes and hear his scolding rebuke. Lectures about carelessness, stupidness etcetera, etcetera. Besides, there wasn't much he could throw at me I had not already thrown at myself ten times before. "Wouldn't you rather hear about how I broke Faith out of jail?"
That got his attention. His eyes went wide, the he narrowed them and silently took a step to the side. The unspoken invitation quite clear. It was one of the fist things one learned as a watcher. Never invite anyone into your home. I nodded at him and stepped inside. His living room looked as though he hadn't been here for a very long time. And the word light also seemed rather foreign to him. Not that I'm one to talk when it comes to that.
"Is...Angel...?" Giles stared, leaving the question hang in the air. I could tell he wanted to know about the scar marring my throat from the way his eyes kept going toward it, but was to polite to ask.
"No," I said shortly. Angel, Angel. Always Angel. Dear god, you'd think he was the only...something, left on earth. He was a killer, that was something that had taken me a long time to learn. But it was true. Still, that didn't seem to stop me from jumping to defend him. "Angel is still in Los Angeles. He's...busy."
"So," Giles started, gesturing toward a bottle of scotch. I nodded, making certain not to look to eager. "You broke Faith out of jail?"
"Yes," I nodded calmly. Accepting the glass, I gave him a steady look. "It would appear some 'bringers' were out to murder her."
"Oh dear," Giles sighed. He sank down on the sofa and sipped his drink. Several times. "It would seem we both have some catching up to do."
Yes, indeed. That seems to be the case. And this might take some time. Shrugging, I sat down on the sofa next to him and sipped my own drink.
"Bringers," I said with a frown. "Care to explain to me why no one in the Council thought to call me or warn Faith about them?" It may have sounded a little harsh, but it's about time the bloody council took their collective heads out of their collective arses. I gave Giles a sharp look, blinking confused at his wince.
"I thought you knew," he whispered, giving me an odd look. "Wesley. The Council...is dead."
Pardon?