Victor, I'm loving this fic hard. It's lovely.

Victor, I'm loving this fic hard. It's lovely.

Thanks. One more chapter left.

Yeah, but then you can write the prequel and the sequel and the adventures of Xander and Dawn and Giles and Wesley and and and and....

You know, sometimes I'll read a book or, rarely, a fic and I'm so heavily into the world that I don't want to stop reading. I want it to go on forever so I never have to leave there.

“What?” said Angelus. “You were expecting someone else?”

Gah! I actually screamed when I read this line. Nice.

Gah! I actually screamed when I read this line. Nice.

Woo-hoo! I was scared I telegraphed that too much.

Gah! I actually screamed when I read this line. Nice.

Telegraphed? Telegraphed? Dude, all lines are down in regards to that little twist being foretold. 'Cause I'm going, "But--souls back in vampires, how the hell is Angelus--did it not work on the ones in the circle? HUH???"

Was it because of the descriptions of Angel's soul being "shredded," Victor? If so, then, brrrrr......

I never thought to take the word "shredded" literally ... as in "not available for reimplantation anymore" ... oh dear ...

Was it because of the descriptions of Angel's soul being "shredded," Victor? If so, then, brrrrr......

A-yup. Angel drew the short straw for brutal treatment this fic.

Elena, you're warped. But you write Andrew very well.

Coming of Age, section the third:

Amy and I were in my bedroom, eating Doritos and trying to float pencils, on the August afternoon when Giles called to tell me his replacement was in town.

"He's here?" I took the phone into the hall. "But, Giles, I thought he wasn't going to get here for another week." Amy looked at me quizzically. I shrugged and smiled, and she went back to the Cool Ranch.

"Well, yes. The Council had a Fyaarl demon to transport to their research facility in Mexico. Your new Watcher decided to ride along. He was doing some kind of research project, and he wanted to see if he could converse with the Fyaarl in its native language."

"How'd that go?"

Giles sighed. "Well enough at first … apparently the demon didn't take too well to young Wyndam-Pryce’s attempt to examine its claws, though. Nearly took a finger off."

"Oh no. Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine, though I fear I'll be your primary trainer a bit longer. But he should be in top shape by the time I leave for London."

"Okay then … when should I come over to meet him?"

"He'll be here tomorrow morning, for your sparring practice."

I promised him to get to the gym by ten; we said our goodbyes and I hung up.

“New guy?,” Amy asked. She was studying my fish a bit too intently.

“Kind of. New librarian.”

“Ooh, is he all British and tweedy like Mr. Giles? I know that turns you on.” I blushed. I’d told Amy about my crush on Giles sometime during the school year, when we were talking about stupid boy stuff (after the whole drama with her mother and the cheerleading squad, Amy was on a strict diet of conversational junk food for a few months). I’d told her my training sessions were helping him organize the library. She thought it was cool … or maybe she just figured it was another geeky Willow thing. Anyhow, she didn’t ask too many questions.

“He’s … from England, I guess. Younger than Giles, though.”

“Like how much younger?” Amy flopped on my bed on her stomach.

I thought about it. Watchers attended the Academy after University; if Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had been a child when Giles was there … “I haven’t met him yet, but I guess he’s in his late 20’s.”

Amy rolled over onto her back. “I betcha he’s cute,” she giggled.

I shrugged and turned the conversation back to what spell we should try to learn when Ms. Calendar got back into town.

The next morning, I spent a long time trying to decide what to wear – it had to be something I could work out in, but I didn’t want my new Watcher to think of me as some sloppy teenager. I settled on a pair of black yoga paints, a newish orange tank top with pink flowers across the chest, and a sky-blue fuzzy sweater. I pulled my hair back into a braid, then pinned the braid into a bun. Carrying a red San Francisco ballet tote that I’d packed with my weapons and training journal, I squared my shoulders and headed out the door.

I heard the new watcher before I saw him. Actually, I heard Giles first.

“Blast it, Wesley, I don’t think that’s an appropriate training regimen for this girl at all!”

“Well, yes, it is heavier on general physical conditioning and lower on weapons usage than was considered wise in your day. But the latest studies have shown that Slayers who get at least five hours of cardio training each week -- ”

He broke off as I peeked in through the school gym door. “Is this my Slayer?,” the younger man asked. He was taller than Giles, I noticed; despite the heat, he was wearing a gray suit with a red-and-blue striped tie.

“Let me introduce you,” Giles broke in. “Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, this is Willow Rosenberg. Willow, this is Mr. Wyndam-Pryce.”

He shook my hand. “Please, you may call me Wesley, if you like. I feel it creates a more comfortable training environment for the Slayer and her Watcher to be on first-name terms.”

“Are there studies behind that, too?” Giles asked mildly.

“No, no, just my personal preferences.” Wesley turned, addressing me. “Now then, Willow. Let’s see your form so I can gauge where to start with you.”

“My … form?” I was bewildered. Giles started our training sessions with some stretches and talking; he asked a lot of me, but never seemed to demand.

“Yes.” When I didn’t move, he began to speak more rapidly. “Shoes off; go on the mats and pretend the tackling block hanging from that beam is a vampire. Your goal is to tag it on that masking-tape X on your first try.”

“That’s it?”

Wesley blinked and rocked back on his heels. “Oh, it should be challenging enough for now.”

Five attempts later, I had to agree with him; the block swayed as I approached it, and I lost sight of the X in my attempts not to get a bloody nose. Finally, I ran full-speed at the block, grabbed it with one arm, and used the other to punch at the X. I slid off the block, did an easy forward roll, and rose to my feet, panting.

Wesley was smiling. “Well done! Now, let’s try it with a blindfold.”

“A blindfold? I mean, I’ll try it, but I thought … Giles always has me spar with him, not with big rubber hanging thingies. I mean, not that I’m saying I don’t want to do this, just that it’s different.”

“Yes, I think you’ll find many things are different in working with me than with Mr. Giles. The latest research suggests that it’s important Slayers know how to deal with inanimate objects before they begin working with humans – especially their Watchers, who may be inclined to be a bit easier on them than a vampire would. I’m sure Mr. Giles would agree.”

“Hmm? I’m sure your experience is completely valid, Wesley. Excuse me -- I think I’ll go get some more tea,” Giles said. I could have sworn I heard him sigh as he left the gym.

“See you in a bit!” Wesley called after him. He held a black cloth out to me. “Here’s the blindfold, Willow.”