__Hello, This Is Your Destiny__
By Cordelia's Ghost



Cordelia waited outside the high school for her father's car to arrive. The girls that called themselves her "friends" surrounded her, making the usual chatter about boys, clothes, and well… that was all those girls talked about. But Cordelia was thinking about something more important—Cordelia.

Why do I have to wait out here with the rest of the non-car driving losers? Daddy could have at least rented a car for me while he had mine maintenanced! But no—Daddy believes that him picking me up from school qualifies as quality time with me.

"Cordelia!" That voice ran through her brain like a spear. She was closer to Harmony than to the other girls, but that whiny voice gave her such a headache.

"Cordy…are you listening to me?"

Cordelia smiled her sweetest, brightest smile at Harmony.

"Of course I'm listening, Harm. I'm always listening. And no, I don't think those shoes are to die for. I mean honestly, Mary Janes? Did anyone tell you that the schoolgirl look was way over?"

Everyone laughed while Harmony tried to cover for herself by telling them that she was being sarcastic because her mother bought them and guilted her into wearing them, but something- or someone, rather, had already caught Cordelia's attention.

"Hello, salty goodness," she said to herself as she walked away from the girls, who gawked in amazement, toward this new someone, who was very handsome.

She noticed he was walking toward her, as well. He was older than she was; although at age 16 she looked more like 20. He had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes behind wire frame glasses, and wore a suit even though it was sunny and hot today. When they were face to face, she noticed he was several inches taller than her, as well.

"Hi…" she said, at a loss for words the first time in her life.

"Cordelia Chase?" Oh, an English accent! How much more Bond could he be? Wait a second….

"How did you know my name?"

"I am Wesley Wyndham-Price, and I have been sent to collect you. There are pressing matters that need your attention immediately." He had a very dignified English air about him, like he was from an old family with really, really old money. Still…

"Um, hallucinate much? I don't care how cute you are. This is Sunnydale, and weird stuff happens here. I especially don't like the way you say, `you were sent to <i>collect</i> me.'"

"Precisely. This `weird stuff', as you say, is exactly why I am here for you. You have been called—you are The Chosen."

"I'm sorry, but I think I'm missing a study guide here." Just who is this guy and who does he think he is? Mmmm-hmmm…he sure is gorgeous, though.

"I'm afraid I don't follow you, Ms. Chase."

"Listen, you say I'm chosen…. but chosen for what exactly? I mean, I'm already the May Queen… there's nothing to run for until Homecoming next year."

"Ms. Chase, I can assure you that what you have been chosen for is and is not school related."

"Oh, well, geez. I can't thank you enough for making that clear for me. Is this a prank? Did that loser Xander Harris put you up to this?"

"I have no idea who this `Xander' person is. The Council has sent me to inform you that you have been called." There was urgency in his voice that made him sound serious. Besides, Cordelia doubted that Xander knew anyone this good looking. But still, she had to get to the bottom of the crazy puzzle-speak of this Wesley guy.

"Called for what? And what Council? Student Council? `Cause I have a few words for them. The mirrors in the girls' bathroom on the Math Hall? Atrocious." She was really starting to get worked up.

"I most certainly am not from the Student Council. Ms. Chase, you are the new Slayer. And I," he gave a light bow that caused Cordy to arch an eyebrow and look around to make sure no one was watching them, "I am your Watcher."

"Yeah, OK. What you just said here? None of that makes any sense to me. And what exactly are you going to `watch' me do?"

"Slay vampires, of course."

"Slay what?"

"Let me start from the beginning," he began.

"Yes, let's try that for a change." She was even trying to be tolerant of him anymore, no matter how mouth watering he was. "As I was saying, in every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, demons, and the forces of evil. She is The Slayer. And the Slayer is you, Ms. Chase."

Cordelia's jaw dropped, but before she could muster a sound, she finally saw her father's car drive up. She composed herself and began to speak.

"So, Wesley. This is a great little chat we're having, and I'd love to continue, but my dad is here to take me home," she said as she reached in her purse and produced a pad and pen, "but here's my phone number. Why don't you call me tonight? Maybe we can get together."

She wrote her phone number on the paper, tore it off and handed it to Wesley, who stood there without anything to say. She walked around him, and toward her father's car, when suddenly he turned around and shouted, "You must keep this in absolute confidence, Ms. Chase!"

She turned around and flashed him a smile so bright he was sure he felt his temperature rise a few degrees. Then she turned back around and stepped into her father's car.

"Darling, who was that man talking to you?" asked Mr. Chase.

"Just some guy. It's amazing what some guys say to me just to get my phone number."

"You didn't give it to him, did you?"

"Well, Daddy, he was particularly gorgeous, so I made an exception."

* * * * *

By the time Cordelia got home, she was furious. If her father had just rented her a car to drive, she would not been standing outside the school when that Wesley guy walked onto campus. And what kind of school just lets a guy walk on campus, anyway? And oh, that Wesley! Who did he think he was, just traipsing up to her, Cordelia, the Queen of Sunnydale High School, and speaking to her?

"But you walked toward him, too, and you spoke first," said the voice inside her head that she usually ignored.

"That was only because I thought he was gorgeous. And who asked you anyway?" she said aloud, and then rolled her eyes because she was talking to herself. Out loud. Only geeks talked out loud to themselves. And Cordelia Chase was no loser.

She looked at the clock. 4:30pm. She had given him her number more than an hour ago, and he had yet to call her. When she gave her number out, there was usually a message on the machine by the time she got home. Maybe I should have given him my cell phone number, she thought, instantly mad at herself for thinking it.

She groaned out loud in frustration. Why did she even care about him calling her? That Wesley was strange, and he said strange things.

Rrrrrring.

She picked up the phone after the first ring, breaking her personal rule of not picking up until after the 3rd ring.

"Hello?" Oh, God, she hoped she didn't sound desperate. Cordelia Chase was not desperate.

"Um, yes, Ms. Chase. This is Wesley Wyndham-Price. I was hoping that you had given me the correct number."

"Why—have you been given your share of fakes?" So there. She knew he would call. They always call.

"No, no… that's not it at all. After the response I received from you earlier, I assumed you would not wish to speak to me again." He had a slight, nervous stammer to his voice. Cordy liked it, and decided to take the game just a bit further.

"So if you've never received a fake phone number, why would you even assume that anyone wouldn't give you their real number?" She was smiling again. This was fun…it was his turn to be taken by surprise.

"We…we need to get to the issue at hand…." More stammering. This is the way men should act in her presence, she thought.

"Fine. I have a few questions for you." She said resolutely.

"But…"

"No. No buts. I will ask the questions and you will answer them, or I'm hanging up."

"If you must."

"Yes, I must," she said with a smile. Then her tone changed. "Now just who do you think you are, walking up to me on campus? Do you know who I am?"

"If I may interrupt…."

"No you may not interrupt. I am still talking." This guy was going to have to learn, and learn fast. You don't just talk to Cordelia Chase any way you wanted.

"In my defense, Ms. Chase…"

"Hello? You are not listening, Mr. Wyndham-Price! Still speaking here! Now, I want to know how on earth you knew who I was and how to find me?"

Silence on the other end of the line. She listened. She couldn't even make out breathing.

"Wesley? Are you there? I asked you a question."

"Really? I wasn't sure if I was allowed to speak yet." Did she hear sarcasm? She had better not have heard sarcasm.

"I asked you a question, didn't I?" Ha! He was going to learn not to cross her.

"As I told you earlier, Ms. Chase…" She cut him off.

"Stop with the Ms. Chase stuff, OK? It was cute for like a half-second, but now it's old. My name is Cordelia."

"Very well, then. Cordelia, as I told you earlier, the Watcher's Council has sent me to train you as the new Slayer because you have been called." He spoke almost as if he was telling her the simplest thing. He was so calm.

"You have a whole council? And how did they get my name?" This was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.

"The Council is not mine; I work for them. And they know the Slayer and all the potential Slayers. Once a year, a spell is performed, and names of the potentials are brought forth from the Powers." Again, like he's telling me how to ride a bike.

"A spell? Like a magic spell? I hate to burst your bubble, but I don't believe in magic. And who are these Powers? And why did they choose me?" The more he spoke, the more questions she had.

"And I hate to burst your bubble, Cordelia, but magic is real. Very real. And the Powers are the spirits that guide our lives."

"But, I don't understand."

"Cordelia, maybe it would be best if you and I could meet and talk face to face about this." Is he asking me out?

"Um, sure, I guess. I'm going to the Bronze later, to meet some friends. We could talk there."

"What is the Bronze?"

"It's a club where everyone hangs out."

"I don't necessarily think a club is the best place to talk. Maybe something more… intimate?" Now I know he's flirting with me.

"What makes you think that I would go somewhere alone with you now if I wouldn't earlier? It's the Bronze or nothing."

"Give me the directions."

"Oh, and don't wear a stuffy old suit, OK?"

* * * * *

She's not going to show, he thought to himself. He'd known girls like her before. Girls too beautiful for their own good, wielding their power like a sword; cutting and slicing the lesser of the species to pieces.

Hold yourself together, man! After all, you are the Watcher and she is under your employ. No reason to dig up old wounds.

Just then, he saw her walk in. Smiling at those who won her favor, frowning disdainfully at those who did not. Watching her walk, he had to remind himself to continue breathing. He recalled something his father, himself a Watcher, had told Wesley at the beginning of his training.

Just as there are no two people in this world, there are also no two Slayers who are the same. Yes, they are mortals, just as were are, but they are special. They reside on a higher plane than the rest of us; physically, mentally, and emotionally superior to the rest of the human race. As a Watcher, it is your sacred duty to harness the power your Slayer will possess; train her to use her power to protect herself and mankind from the darkness.

How right his father was. Certainly there was no one in this, or any other, world that came close to Cordelia Chase. He just sat there watching her, and suddenly her head turned and their eyes connected. She smiled that million-pound smile and all he managed was a meek little grin and a sad little wave of his hand.

Be a man! he heard his father say in the back of his mind. But for the moment, he wasn't going to let his father worry him. He stood up as she walked toward him, hoping that he wouldn't trip while standing still or drop something on her. He looked down at his clothing, silently praying that what he had chosen would meet her approval.

"Not bad," she began. "Though I think I'd prefer the sleeves rolled up."

"Oh," he said nervously as he began to roll his sleeves.

She cocked her head sideways and sat, took a sip from the straw in her soda, and looked at him curiously.

"You do everything people tell you to?"

He thought for a moment, hen spoke. "Actually, no. I think it's the crowd and the noise putting me on edge a bit."

"So… tell me about this Slayer thing I've supposedly been called into. Why did they choose me? How did they choose me? It's not like I don't have other things to do."

"Unfortunately, the Council doesn't know how the Powers choose the Slayers. We only know who they are once they have been born." Wesley didn't think he was doing a very good job of answering Cordelia's questions.

"Wait a sec. Are you telling me that this Council received a heads up the day I was born?"

"No, that's not quite correct. Remember that earlier I told you that the spell was performed once a year? On that day, the Powers give us the names of all the potential slayers that have been born within that year. We then create a file on each name, and when it is time for a new Slayer to be called, we pull her file and set out to make contact." He straightened his back, hoping to exude half of Cordelia's confidence.

She took another sip from her drink and sat quietly for a moment, pondering what he had just told her. Wesley took a sip from his drink, hoping to cool his body temperature. Finally, she spoke.

"Tell me again what a Slayer does." At least she was curious, and not completely put off by what he had said, even though her tone suggested she was not weighing the consequences of her life, but debating which pair of shoes to purchase.

"It is a sacred birthright, Cordelia, not an after-school job." Was he really that unconvincing?

"Like I'd have an after-school job. Ew." She rolled her eyes. He was beginning to bore her, he could tell.

He sighed and continued. "A Slayer destroys the powers of darkness. She is the protector of humanity."

"You mean I'm going to maim and kill evil stuff."

"To put it so simplistically, yes. That is what you have been born to do."

"Kill vampires and other evil beings-thingies."

"Yes." Was he losing her? Maybe he shouldn't have taken the maim, kill, destroy route. Her eyes widened, but then her mouth formed the most tempting and delicious smile he had ever witnessed. Was she about to laugh?

"Cool!"

"I beg your pardon?" He had heard of Slayers completely resisting the idea, or accepting their fate with confusion or half-hearted reluctance, but never excitement.

"Yeah. I mean, I've always known that I was special, being a Chase and all, but who knew I was actually chosen to save the world? That's pretty big. Harmony is going to freak when I tell her."

"Absolutely not! You mustn't tell anyone. The Slayer and her Watcher work in secret. Anyone outside of that circle who knows of your duty is placed in mortal danger." He hoped he had finally impressed upon her the seriousness of her calling.

"Hold on. So I'm doing this great thing, but no one knows besides you and me? That is such a line!"

"Excuse me? That is most certainly not a line. If you want your friends put in harm's way, then by all means, please make an announcement at school over the Public Address System!"

"Oh, calm down. Don't be so fatalistic. How was I supposed to know? It's not there's a handbook or anything."

Finally! An area of his expertise! "Actually, there is a Slayer Handbook, and several other volumes that you are required to read, so that you can battle the forces of darkness more effectively. There is also vigorous physical training."

"I'm head cheerleader, so I have no problem in getting physical."

He felt his heart rate jump, as he was sure that was meant to be a double-entendre. Before he could say anything, she was speaking again.

"Now—where do we find these volumes? If you tell me they're back at your apartment, I'll leave."

"Why don't I bring them to you after school tomorrow? We can begin your, um, physical training as well." Why did that word bother him so much?

"Meet me in the parking lot. I'll have my car back, and I can take you to my house. We have a gym in the basement."

"And your parents?" His heart was beating faster again.

"Oh, my mom won't know we're there. She stays in bed all day. The doctor says Epstein-Barr, but we all know it's chronic fatigue. And anyway, my dad's leaving for Switzerland tomorrow morning. Some business conference. So our little secret will be safe."

"Well, it's good to know that you're serious about your calling."

"I'm just trying to garner some alone time with you." That smile spread across her face again.

"Who… What?" He hated it when he stammered. He sounded like a blithering schoolboy.

She laughed as she stood up.

"See you tomorrow, Wes."

And then she was gone.

* * * * *

"This is my first time," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

They had been together for several weeks and had not once heard this quiver in her voice.

"Mine, too." He was so ashamed to admit that. He was twenty-bloody-seven years old! That's not the kind of thing you admit to people, especially cheeky and gorgeous 16-year-old slayers. "But we'll get through this together. Now, are you sure you're ready?"

"Now or never, right? Let's do it."

There was a slight chill in the air at the cemetery, and Cordelia was standing there, stake in hand, and looking at Wesley. He thought, for a brief moment, that he saw fear in her eyes. He hoped that fear would keep her alive.

She quietly turned and walked away from him and towards the fresh grave. She stopped at the foot, waiting. Suddenly, the dirt began to move and a hand emerged from the ground. Next came an arm, followed by a head and the other arm. He pulled himself out of his grave and began walking toward Cordelia. She just stood there. Was she frozen?

The vampire came face to face with Cordelia and smiled before allowing the demon within him to spew out. When he lunged for her, she ducked and rolled underneath him. She jumped to her feet and kicked him in the back of the head. The vampire spun around and lunged for her again, but this time she plunged the stake into his heart. His face was filled with unbelief as he exploded into dust.

Cordelia spun around and began walking back to Wesley. He was sure she had a slight skip to her step.

"Well, that was fun. I think that guy was a senior. Do you want to grab something to eat?"

"Cordelia… you… you knew him?

"I don't think I'd go that far. He was in the A/V club. But he's dust now. So, how about some food?" She picked up her bag, placed her stake inside, threw it over her shoulder and began to walk away, leaving Wesley still standing by a tombstone. He had never seen anyone enjoy a kill so much, especially a 16-year-old girl.

* * * * *

They sat outside, on the patio of the restaurant. Apparently, Cordelia has issued her stamp of approval on a select few establishments in Sunnydale.

"So I'm your first, huh?" She mentioned casually as she speared her salad with her fork. Wesley's eyes widened and he leaned over the table and began whispering.

"If you must talk about this in public, I insist that we whisper. But to answer your question; yes, you are my first slayer." It didn't quite sound so bad when he spoke in the correct vernacular.

She leaned over the table and whispered, "So we're slay virgins together." There was an excitement in her voice. Something else, too, but Wesley thought it to be his imagination.

She took a couple more bites of her salad before speaking again.

"I just have to say, that was the coolest thing ever. I can't even begin to tell you how it felt to turn that guy into dust. `Cause he really thought he had me, didn't he? Goes to show-do not underestimate Cordelia."

"I, um, yes." He nodded, but really had no idea what to say to her. He was busy watching her sip water through a straw. He could watch her for hours, fascinating creature that she was.

Those lips, he thought. What would happen if I just leaned over and kissed her? Get a hold of yourself, man! She's 16 and you are her Watcher. It's an unfair advantage. He chastised himself for impure thoughts.

"Hello… earth to Wesley!"

"Oh, yes. I apologize. I was just thinking about earlier. Were you frightened at all?" That's right… cover up your sick mind with shoptalk. That'll throw her off the scent… but didn't he smell it on her, too?

"Why should I? I'm the Chosen One, right? I have the power here. They should tremble before me."

"I must say, Cordelia…" he began, but she gave him no chance.

"Wesley… call me Cordy, OK? Calling me by my full name makes me feel like I'm in school."

"Very well," his mood brightened by this bit of encouragement. "Your confidence and conduct in this situation is exemplary. I am very pleased, and the Council will be as well. We've never had anyone so… eager to fight the forces of evil."

"A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do, right?"

She reached across the table and touched his hand. An electric current ran up his back.

"Listen, it's not like training with you is such a big pain. It's nice… having someone who's actually interested in me, and not my money or popularity. And you've got some pretty interesting things to say yourself, for a guy who thinks tweed is a seasonless fabric." She smiled that smile again and squeezed his hand. He felt his heart quicken and thought he might faint. He worked to control his breathing.

"Likewise. The past weeks have been an absolute pleasure."

She removed her hand from his and picked up her glass.

"Here's to us, then—may we have lots of fun and kick plenty of demon butt."

Wesley smiled and picked up his glass as well.

"Here, here."

As their glasses touched, he was sure he felt her fingertips on his.

* * *