Part Seven

Lucius guiltily tried to curb his anger upon seeing the stunned expression on the young man’s face. There was no reason to be angry at him - he had been but a small child when Sharna was killed. Besides, he reminded himself, unless the Council had changed policy - and when was the last time that had happened? - Wesley knew nothing of the Passing. It was knowledge reserved for the Council members only.

Not that that changed the facts. The odds were in favor of Wesley’s having been brainwashed by the teachings at the Academy. But he was still young. Perhaps there was a chance for him.

“To Pass a Slayer,” he began to explain, “is to take her life -”

“- in order the prompt the calling of the next Slayer,” Wesley interrupted. “I know.”

Wilson gave him a sharp look of surprise. “You do?”

Wesley nodded. “Yes. It’s why I was fired. Do you know that there are two Slayers now?” At Wilson’s nod of confirmation, he continued.

Wesley set down the slim packet, his mind reeling from the revelations inside it. An incapacitated Slayer was killed? When he thought it over, he could appreciate the logic of it, but what did that have to do with anything now? There were two Slayers now. When one was unable to perform her duties, that no longer meant that the fight between good and evil was fatally unbalanced. With the other girl able to fight, the injured Slayer could be afforded time to recover, if possible. The Passing had been rendered obsolete by Buffy’s death and consequent resurrection. So why had he been delivered this information coupled with the warning that it was strictly top secret?

He looked down at the packet. It was a case history of each Slayer that had been Passed within the recorded history of the Network. A Passing was rare - there was perhaps one a century, if that - so there was room for a detailed record of each girl, even in the small packet. They were sound and logical, leaving no room for doubt as to the necessity of the Passing in each situation. At least, most of them were.

But the last entry, dated twenty years ago, bothered Wesley. It was short, scarcely half the length of the other entries, and vague, offering half-formed, ambiguous explanations and leaping about between topics.

Wesley was trying to make sense of it and quell the growing discomfiture it was causing when the summons tone sounded. As always, Wesley was reminded of the remark one of his Academy classmates made every time the sound was heard: “His Majesty will see you now.”

Swallowing a nervous chuckle, Wesley stood and waked down the hall to the Head Watcher’s office.

“Come in,” Travers called from inside before he could even knock. Wesley blinked and entered the office.

“I trust you’ve read the literature?” Travers remarked as Wesley sat down.

Wesley’s time in Sunnydale had taught him, among many other things, to put forth his opinions in rapid bursts when he knew they would be unpopular, before the others had time to interrupt him. He utilized that lesson now, saying quickly,

“Yes but I don’t see the relevance of the Passing anymore as we have two Slayers instead of just one.”

Travers frowned at him. “Our sacred laws are not open for interpretation, Wesley. They are as they are written. Now, do you want your assignment or do you wish to continue educating me on what you seem to think I am doing wrong?”

The unspoken implication, of course, was that no young Watcher who had failed with two Slayers should presume to contradict the Head Watcher. Wesley, stung, flushed and remained silent. Travers gave a curt nod.

“Faith,” he began, “is useless to us. Even if, by some miracle, she should regain consciousness, her behaviour is not conducive to the activities that a Slayer is duty-bound to perform. She must be Passed.”

Wesley stared in disbelief. He had suspected that this was the reason for this meeting, but to actually hear it out loud . . .

“But - Buffy is more than capable -”

“We have two Slayers at our disposal now, Wesley,” Travers interrupted. “We must take full advantage of our opportunities. I want you to perform the Passing.”

He held up a hand to ward off and protests, but the gesture was pointless; Wesley was stunned into speechlessness. “This was a unanimous decision. The Council feels that you are the best choice for the job. You are familiar with Sunnydale, and Rupert Giles and his little posse are less likely to interfere with you than with an operative they don’t know.”

He leaned forward slightly and continued in a confidential tone, “And, off the record of course, carrying the Passing out successfully will restore the status you lost by bungling your last assignment.” Travers sat back and folded his hands together on top of his desk. “Consider this very carefully, Wesl -”

“No,” Wesley said quietly. Travers, unused to being questioned, gave him a sharp stare.

“I beg your pardon?” he demanded coldly. Wesley matched his angry stare with an even gaze.

“No,” he repeated. “I won’t kill her.” Taking Faith’s life when the time could be spared for a possible recovery was something that Wesley could scarcely comprehend, much less actually perform. It went against everything he had been taught - by the Council, no less - to stand for, both personally and as a Watcher.

Traver’s voice was dangerously silky. “Alive, Faith would be a very dangerous liability. She entered that coma on the side of evil and she is not going to wake up as Pollyanna. If anything, she will be even more lethal, if she manages a full recovery.”

“She deserves a chance.” This was the same argument Buffy and Giles had been throwing at Wesley mere weeks ago. Of course, then Faith’s life had not been at stake. Or so he had thought. Now he realized that, had his capture attempt been successful, she would have been Passed immediately upon arriving in England.

[Oh, god, I almost killed her.] The thought was so horrific that he almost missed Travers’s next words.

“I see. So not only would you have us deny the natural process of activating a new Slayer, but you would offer salvation to a girl who would slap it away with both hands and then wring your neck. You have just proven beyond a doubt that you are a hopeless case. We have wasted enough of our time and resources on you. You’re fired. Get out of my office.”

Travers calmly turned his attention to a small black journal that lay next to the lamp on his desk.

Wesley was never certain, afterwards how he managed to stand and make his way to the door in the stunned haze that swallowed him following Travers’s pronouncement.

As he reached the door, Travers spoke.

“And Wesley, if you attempt to contact Sunnydale and warn them of our plans for Faith, she will not be the only Slayer to die in the immediate future.”

As Wesley finished his story, Wilson found himself seeing the boy from a different angle. Before, he had considered Wesley to be just another Watcher, though perhaps one who could still be reached. Now, though, it was clear that Wesley did not need rehabilitation.

Most Watchers would not be able to turn down an assignment that came directly from the head Watcher, no matter how distasteful or immoral. He himself had been like that once, not daring to say no. But this boy was stronger than most. Stronger, perhaps, than even himself.

“Every Watcher should have such ethical standards,” Wilson said softly.

Wesley flushed a little at the compliment, but reminded him grimly, “At the rate things are going, I believe that every Watcher now does.”

“Wesley - is alive?” Ethan asked hoarsely.

“Yes,” Giles answered slowly, guiltily remembering, too late, his promise to Wesley. “He’s spent the summer fighting off the assassins. His stamina is running down, his health is beginning to be affected, and he would have been killed this afternoon if Buffy hadn’t been there to intervene.”

Ethan sat back, his thoughts swimming chaotically, and struggled to process everything he had heard. From thinking Wesley dead, to knowing him to be alive - it changed things.

Giles fell silent, giving the other man a little mental breathing space. A few minutes had passed before Ethan spoke.

“I will help you, for Wesley’s sake. But if he dies, I walk away.”

“I understand,” Giles replied softly. It was actually more than he had expected when he had walked into the office.

“I suppose I’ll have to put off grading these for another day,” Ethan remarked, gesturing to the papers on his desk. “Shame, really, I was so looking forward to it.”

Giles allowed himself a little smile.