Part Three

Wesley raised an eyebrow in amusement at Willow's phrasing. "Baby Watcher": wouldn't Ethan have loved that? This afternoon had proved to be one of the most entertaining he'd ever had, though he did tend to agree with Buffy's assessment of her mother's excessive frankness - "TMI!" as one of the girls at the Meeting Place, Chloe, would have grumbled. Wesley, as he always did, softened a little at the thought of Chloe. They had forged an instant bond when she had arrived at the Meeting Place nearly two weeks after Wesley, and it had become clear within a matter of hours that, had Travers resisted the urge to muddle things up, Wesley would have been destined to be the Watcher who guided Chloe.

But now was not the time to be thinking of that - Wesley turned his attention back to Giles, who was saying,

". . . Council has been known to make mistakes regarding their selections for training. Ethan was one of those mistakes, though it was realized almost too late. He came dangerously close to tearing the Council apart by setting them at each other's metaphorical throats."

Buffy blinked and looked at Wesley. "And Mr-Let's-Do-What-The-Council-Says-At-All-Costs went out with him?"

"It was before I entered the Academy," Wesley replied defensively. "I had no idea what he'd almost done." < Although, > he confessed to himself, it probably wouldn't have changed anything. "Now can we please get back to the matter at hand?"

A brief silence, then Giles said, rather grudgingly, "Wesley may be right about Ethan. He has always had a way of knowing things, even back then."

"How long ago was it?" Buffy asked.

"About - twenty years ago, I believe," Giles answered thoughtfully. "He was fifteen or sixteen. Remarkably young for a new trainee. Most aren't chosen until after they've graduated."

"That's a long time ago," Willow said doubtfully. "You think he'll really remember anything helpful?" Buffy nodded in agreement.

Abruptly, Joyce laughed. "Out of the mouths of babes," she remarked. "Twenty years isn't that long when you're as ancient as we are."

"Now we're left with only the difficulty of tracking him down," Wesley sighed, frantically trying to calculate how much time they could afford to spare for that task.

"No problem," Buffy answered confidently. "He teaches at UC Sunnydale."

"Demonology 101," Willow added. "It's actually called that."

This was clearly news to Giles, unless his gaping jaw merely indicated a desire to catch flies. "Why didn't you tell me this?" he demanded, managing to glare at both girls simultaneously.

"Umm . . ." The girls exchanged frantic, we're-in-for-it-now looks.

"We - didn't want to bother you with it," Willow offered weakly. "I mean, you're still getting used to your new job, and he's acting like a regular teacher who doesn't have any weird plans, and this made a lot more sense when we were talking about it last week." She blushed and looked down at the floor.

Giles reddened slightly, looking ready to explode with rage.

Wesley hastily intervened. "In that case, it should be simple enough to find him." He pointed at Giles and Joyce. "There is no reason for you two not to carry out your plans, if either of you were considering cancelling," he said sternly.

Giles blinked at him, amazed by the effective authority in Wesley's tone. Willow and Buffy, having been in the same position barely an hour ago, stifled giggles.

Wesley paused, taking a deep breath to stave off a feeling of sudden light-headedness. "The assassins," he continued, "will need, at minimum, a day to regroup. The next twenty-four hours should be safe enough. You girls go back to class. I will find Ethan and . . ." He was cut off by an intense wave of dizziness, blurring his vision and making him grasp at the desk for support as the past few days of no real sleep, very little food, and a constant adrenaline high caught up with him all at once.

Giles moved quickly, gripping Wesley's shoulders to steady him. Wesley clutched his arm, closing his eyes. He recovered after a moment and Giles released him, saying firmly,

"You will do no such thing. I will take you back to my home and you will take those twenty-four hours to rest." He was aware now that Wesley, in all likelihood, had taken very little time over the summer to see to his own well-being.

Wesley nodded in weary agreement. He could afford to take the time now; he had spent the last six weeks fighting off assassins and getting to Sunnydale, reluctant to waste time on sleep or putting together decent meals. He didn't dare fly and risk the lives of dozens of passengers - a fight could very well end up in the cockpit and break vital instruments. Instead, his travel had consisted of stowing away aboard a ship to America, which had ended up docking in Maine, then walking and hitchhiking across the country. Now that he was finally here, though, he had the luxury of a little time, enough to get some rest and eat something nourishing, perhaps even take a lengthy shower. The prospect was wonderfully appealing.

"Good," Giles nodded approvingly.

"Look," Wesley thought dazedly, "I've finally done something good enough for him." He shook the thought away as quickly as it had come, dismissing it as a last remaining vestige of his old resentment toward Giles for undermining him at every step. It was completely unimportant to him now - anger that seemed years old.

"Willow, Buffy, there is no reason for you not to return to class," Giles said. "Joyce and I -"

"No," Joyce interrupted. "Rupert, go talk to Ethan. This is much more important. The sketches will keep. Plus," she added somewhat sheepishly, "I have a lot of paperwork that I should be doing."

Giles looked at her gratefully, thankful for the fact that she was expertly hiding any disappointment she might have felt; her tone held not a trace a self-sacrifice. She was, he reflected for the hundredth time, a wonderful woman.

"Thank you, Joyce," he answered, leaning over to kiss her. Buffy clutched at her throat and mimed violent dry heaves. Joyce gave her a mock glare.

"Go!" Looking somewhat cowed, the girls said their goodbyes and left quickly.

Joyce and Giles kissed lingeringly, murmuring their goodbyes. Wesley watched them for a moment, slightly envious at the sight of them so completely involved in each other, to the point of closing out the rest of the world for a moment. He'd had that before, just once. With Ethan. Now he was going to see him again, soon, and -

Wesley jerked himself sharply away from that train of thought, setting it aside as something to think about later. He cleared his throat quietly to remind the couple of his presence. Giles and Joyce broke apart, Giles rather embarrassed, Joyce merely amused.

"Right," she smiled. "Goodbye, Rupert." She touched his cheek lightly, then turned to Wesley. "Goodbye, Wesley. Rest well."

"Thank you, I will," Wesley replied. "Goodbye, Mrs. Summers."

Joyce waved goodbye with a smile and left.

The drive to Giles's house was a short one, and Wesley was getting out of the car a scant fifteen minutes after Joyce's departure. He scanned the area reflexively for danger signs. Finding none, he paused and leaned in through the open car door.

"I would appreciate it," he said quietly, "if you wouldn't mention my presence in town to Ethan just yet."

Giles nodded. "I understand. He won't hear it from me."

"Thank you," Wesley answered with a relieved smile. "Good luck," he added wryly.

"Indeed," Giles muttered, a spark of dry humor in his eyes. Wesley chuckled and slammed the Citroen's door shut.

Giles lingered for a moment, watching Wesley enter his house and listening to the old car's little engine putter away as he braced himself for a confrontation with Ethan. Then, reluctantly, he pulled back onto the road and headed for the university.