__Unexpected Likeness__
By Cathryn
Wesley Wyndham-Price gave a long suffering sigh as he was forced to
reach the inevitable conclusion.
He did not have the books he needed.
He would have to go to the Sunnydale High School library.
Starting up his car, Wesley sincerely hoped that he would not meet up
with Rupert Giles. After that nasty Faith debacle, Wesley did not relish the
thought of running into the man.
**********
So far, so good - as Wesley approached the library, he noted a distinct
lack of lights. He reached out to open the doors, trying to fish from his
memory the alarm code that Giles had - somewhat begrudgingly - given him.
The doors pushed open at his touch.
< Hmm. >
Wesley flipped the lights on warily, hand in place to grab his cross if
needed. He saw -- Buffy's dark haired friend, looking up from resting his head
in his arms on the table and squinting at Wesley in the sudden influx of light, which
had clearly woken him up.
"What are you doing here?" Wesley demanded, sounding a bit harsher
than he'd intended. The boy bridled in response to the tone, replying sharply,
"Trying to get some sleep. What are *you* doing here?"
Wesley ignored both the question and the sting of the recently all-too-
familiar resentful tone. Instead he asked, "Why aren't you at home?",
endeavoring to gentle his voice. The boy, seeming to respond to the
attempt, admitted sheepishly,
"My parents are out of town for the weekend and I locked myself out of
the house." Wesley drew closer, concerned and curious.
"It's only Friday night. What are you going to do all weekend?"
A shrug. "Drift. Wander. Live off the lunch money I didn't use today."
Wesley sat in the chair next to the boy, whose name he couldn't
remember for the life of him. "Can't you stay at a friend's house?"
His answer? The universal Adults Just Don't *Get* It eye roll, without a
single accompanying word. Wesley didn't know the boy well enough to
feel comfortable with questioning him any further, so he changed the subject.
"I don't think I caught your name."
"Xander Harris. And you're Wesley, uh . . . Department Store." Xander
paused - that didn't sound right.
Wesley stared. "'Department Store?'" he repeated blankly.
"No, wait, that's my memory trick for remembering your name." Xander
thought a moment. "Ames? Rich's? Wal-Mart? Am I close?"
"It's Wyndham-Price," Wesley supplied in bemusement.
"Oh, yeah. Luke and Laura. Of course."
Wesley shook his head in confusion and stood.
I need to get some books."
Xander nodded. "You're in luck. We have lots." Wesley smiled slightly
and started forward, but pulled up short when he caught sight of a fading
circle of bruises around Xander's neck.
"Oh," he realized aloud. "You must be the boy Faith tried to strangle.
Are you all right?" Xander looked surprised.
"You noticed? I was starting to think it was just me." Wesley, confused
by the comment, sat back down. "Come again?"
"Nobody's actually mentioned it," Xander explained, bitterness beginning
to creep into his voice. "In fact, you're the first to acknowledge it even
happened since the guy who stopped her." His voice became harsh and
sardonic. "See, Faith's recovering from the trauma of her time spent as
Queen Bitch of the Decade, and the best way to help her deal seems to
be to pretend that none of it ever happened."
Wesley was silent for a moment, pondering the words and the force
behind them. Sympathy for the boy welled up in him, along with an
understanding of why Xander preferred not to stay with his friends.
"You feel unwanted," he said softly. It was the right thing to say, and
the right way to say it; Xander spontaneously opened up to the chance to
finally talk about what was bothering him.
"Ever since they found out about Willow and me fooling around behind
Oz and Cordelia's backs, I feel like they're trying to phase me out." Xander's
hurt anger returned. "Not Willow, of course, not our innocent little Will.
Never mind that it was just as much her as me. Never mind that she never
once said no to me without changing her mind three seconds later. Oh no. *I'm*
the one who's completely at fault here, and you know why? Because I'm the
guy! Therefore, I *must* have taken advantage of her." Xander was shaking
from the anger he'd been keeping suppressed.
"It's a double standard," Wesley said quietly.
"It's not fair."
"That's by and large the definition of double standard."
They sat in silence for a long moment, Xander trying to calm himself,
Wesley trying to find a way to reach out that didn't involve actual reaching.
Finally, he offered,
"I know how you feel," wincing inwardly at how painfully trite it
sounded. Xander looked somewhat calmer, but doubtful.
"Sure," he replied, dragging out the word skeptically: Suuure.
"No, I do." Wesley leaned forward slightly. "Every day, I feel not only
unwanted but resented by your group." He paused, trying to put his
words together. "Intellectually, I understand. The Council is out of your reach,
so you're taking out your frustrations on me. That's normal." Again, he
paused, longer this time, and when he resumed speaking, his voice was
trembling slightly. "It's also normal to be hurt by it. And I am hurt. I
am hurt and I am angry and I am beginning to resent you all as much as
you resent me. It is *not* my fault that Giles was fired, it is *not* my fault
I was chosen to replace him, and I am *not* wrong because I do things
differently from your *precious* librarian!" Wesley spat venomously.
They sat in stunned silence, Wesley as shocked by the intensity of his
anger as Xander was, if not more.
"I - I don't mean you specifically," Wesley began awkwardly after a
moment. "You've given me the least trouble of all -"
"Bygones," Xander interrupted dismissively. < Whoa, too much "Ally
McBeal."> Wesley looked up to find the young man looking at him with a tiny,
conspiratorial smile tugging at his mouth.
"You feel better now, don't you?" Xander asked. Wesley considered the
question, and was surprised by the answer.
"Yes," he replied curiously, "I do."
Xander nodded wisely. "The joy of venting. I should know," he added
ruefully. Wesley chuckled, then stood.
"I really do need those books," he explained, wanting a little space to
breathe in after the intensity for the past few moments. Xander
nodded, and Wesley disappeared into the stacks.
He reappeared nearly fifteen minutes later, balancing several volumes of
various sizes in his hands. Xander, having resumed his earlier sleeping
position, said into the table, "See ya." Wesley paused next to him.
"Listen, Xander, why don't you stay the nights at my flat until your
parents return?" The invitation tumbled out of him, quickly followed by an
equally hurried explanation: "This is a public building, it's far too dangerous."
Xander couldn't resist teasing him just a little, pretending to think it over
at length for a moment, letting Wesley sweat it out. Finally, he smiled.
"Okay. Thanks."
Wesley, terrified that he'd overstepped his boundaries, was vastly
relieved. "Not a bit of it," he assured Xander. Xander stood and replied,
"I'm gonna just go ahead and pretend that means 'you're welcome'."
Wesley laughed. "As you wish." Xander, having seen "The Princess
Bride" a few too many times, did a startled double take. Wesley, unaware that
he'd said anything amiss, shifted his books against his hips, turned off the
lights, and closed and locked the doors behind him.
* * *