Disclaimer: Purely for entertainment. Please don't steal the characters I created.
Rating: R for language and talk of adult nature.

A/N: Well I can't believe its over a year since I last updated. I recently started working on this piece again and I realised I had a chapter ready to be uploaded a very long time ago. Enjoy it, and thanks for waiting patiently if you are still following.

Part 12 – Working With Wes

I spoke to Willow, and Giles today. They filled me in on everything I needed to know – luckily they didn't threaten to beat me with a stick. God knows they probably all still hate my guts, though. I wouldn't blame them.

Giles said something about needing Wes to get me back into the system; prepare me in as many ways possible for the…well…possibility of numerous amounts of Big Bads to deal with on arrival at Sunnydale. I hope he didn't mean the Scoobs.

Wes had been such a sweetheart, dare I say it. He took me out, fed me, trained me, whatever else.

We ended up on the coast somewhere, far away and he stripped me bare, got to me, and it felt so good. And in no way was this sexual.

I laid my head back in my arms as I absorbed the warm sun and listened to his words. We'd been talking for what felt like ever, about supernatural forces and the vortex that apparently killed B, and what I might have to face back in Sunnydale.

It wasn't until he caught me out that I opened my eyes. 'You're not listening, are you?' he said sceptically, and when I opened my eyes to his expression, my own features softened, and I blinked slowly as I sat up and wiped the sand off my naked arms.

'How could I not listen to that voice?' I began as I shifted my weight onto my upper leg and pressed an arm into the sand.

He didn't particularly look impressed, but something beneath him I could tell was forcing him to accept that I was never a good listener.

He closed the ancient text he was reading from and slid it into a small black bag. 'Well I brought you out here for a reason, Faith,' he started, clearing his throat slightly.

I couldn't help but interrupt. 'To top up my tan?'

Again, not impressed.

I rolled my eyes and sunk back into the sand. 'To train, I know. Help me really experience the elements first hand; see I was listening.'

'It's not just a sun-bed, being here, Faith, it's really important for you to learn how to tune into the elements around you. So that you might be able to channel them into your power.'

'I thought that was Red's job,' I said quickly.

Wes seemed to ignore that last platitude and stood up in the sand, his relaxed trousers hiding his feet. He took a few steps back and I quickly scanned the area behind him. We were practically alone. Within moments he'd begun some sort of funky martial arts sequence and I felt my senses begin to tighten. This was really impressive. There's just so much in him that I can feel myself gettin' attracted to, for instance the snaking of his muscles in his arms as he moved into every stance, the focus in his eyes, his body in it's entirety, and before I knew it, I was standing there right with him, and we were moving together, simultaneously, in unison. I can't explain it but the breeze of the ocean and the glare of the sun, the comforting sharpness of the sand and the swooshing noise of the waves lapping focussed me entirely. I felt my entire being allowing each muscle to become encompassed by my surroundings, by the movement, by him…

See I told you it was nothing sexual.

And back at the hotel we looked over more texts, and I introduced him to the blindfolded method in which we went at for around five hours, before he introduced the next step. He threw a sword into my hand and whilst I felt him in the space we duelled. I felt as though I was getting to know his body further and that by the end of the session I could sense anything about him. His breath, which muscles he was using, his footsteps upon the marble floor.

But I pulled off the blindfold for a break…and surprise. Angel was the one holding the opposing sword.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I wrapped the thin black material of the blindfold around my wrist. 'Wha…where's Wes?' I said, slightly out of breath.

Angel pressed the tip of the sword into the ground and balanced his weight upon the handle with the palm of his hand. He shrugged casually and swayed the sword from side to side gently.

'Did you plan this?' I began to realise as I crossed the open space to my cold water bottle. I sucked off the end and waited patiently for a reply.

'Not really. I came in; I guess you didn't really notice that…and for a moment you lost his position in which I grabbed the sword from him and we took it from there.'


'I wanted to see if you could really tell the difference.'

'Between your fighting styles?'

He shrugged once again and raised his eyebrows.

'I thought Wes was just being a little more ruthless…hmm…impressive…'

I put down my bottle and approached him once again.

'I think you're the impressive one, Faith.'

'Are you kidding, I didn't even notice he'd gone. Where is he?'



I dropped the sword for a moment to adjust my clothing, and as I knelt down to fix the bottom of my joggers, Angel held me at sword-point.

'Now if I was a demon, do you think I'd give you a round two?'

'If you were a demon, I wouldn't be taking a time-out.'

He held a hand out to me, and knelt down to pick up my sword. I took a step back from him and he threw it to me.

'Imagine I am. It's life or death and you need to get to the bottom of this. You've run twenty miles, chasing this evil down and now you've got him in a corner. It's now you have to eliminate the problem. He's the biggest threat and you have only one chance to get him. Now's it. Let's test your strength and durability.'

And somehow, we went, for like two hours straight. I didn't think it was possible, man. I mean with Wes and I we'd stopped and started, faffed around for a bit. But with Angel and I, it was non-stop as if I really was trying to get to the bottom of this. And daym, and daym again he's so fuckin' strong. We really went for it though. But I got it; I won.

I hurried up the stairs afterwards, many cuts and scrapes familiarising themselves with my body, and I peeled off items of clothing as I traipsed the hallway leading to Wes's apartment. I slid off my top as I entered the apartment to find him buried under a pile of books.

'What on earth…?' he started as his eyes scanned my body, and quickly, obviously noticed the war wounds I'd acquired.

'I thought you were training with Angel?'

'Ey, shouldn't leave me alone too long with him, things get a little out of hand…' I said as I headed straight for the shower, removing clothing still.

He followed me into the bathroom and I proceeded to attending to my wounds. Obviously Angel hadn't really done this on purpose, but we were really going for it, and I suppose it's the best method.

I squeezed a wet flannel and tried to soak up the trail of blood coming from a sword-cut on my arm, but it seemed Wes felt that it was his priority to heal me.

He ushered me over to the edge of the bathtub and I sat down upon the edge, and he knelt down in front of me, opened up the flannel and folded it, and I hissed slightly as he pressed the material to my wound.

'I'm sorry…' he whispered as his eyes focussed intently on the wound, and I couldn't help but watch him watch this broken part of me.

'It's alright.'

We were both silent for a while as he cleansed it and dabbed it with a cotton wool full of antiseptic. I ballsed my fists and tried to ignore the pain but it did actually hurt.

'I wondered what was going on actually. You were gone for quite some time. I thought you would've noticed soon enough that I wasn't still there.'

'Hmm.' I was focussing on not yelling out in pain. 'It…ahh…' He mumbled another quick apology as I tried to finish my sentence. '…kind of turned into a fight for the death. We envisioned a scenario and let it play out.'

'And you won?'

'I actually did…man this fuckin' hurts.'

He stood and reached for the faucet behind me. 'Here…' he turned up the heat for the powerful water and tested it. 'This will ease it off a bit.'

He disappeared for a moment and returned soon with a towel. 'Spend some time…let your muscles relax.'

He began to leave again but I reached out for his arm before the moment was gone.

'Stick around…?'

We crept into the shower and we stood and we leant into one another and I pressed my arms into the cool tiles of the shower and he cleansed my back, so carefully, tentatively. He cared for me as if I was a small butterfly with a torn wing. And soon he was attending to that itch I always got post-train/patrol/slay.

So deftly but gently, he entered me and withdrew; entered and withdrew. My back against the tiles almost directly beneath the showerhead, the water dispersing directly onto the tops of our heads, and both our moans were dulled by the drowning and engulfing sound of the water hitting the bath tub.

Later on, he read to me some more. We sat in bed, he splayed books left, right and centre and I propped my head up in my hand as I laid on my side and listened to him with my eyes closed.

But I really was listening. To every word. And for a minute, just one, I regretted having to say goodbye to him to go to a place where I was needed and not wanted. But to be wanted rather than needed…isn't that something more important?