A Little Teen History
by Hjmugillecuty

RATING: FRC [GF]

SUMMARY: A "missing" scene from "Spin the Bottle".

SPOILERS: Up to and including "Spin the Bottle"

PAIRING: Wes/Fred

DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me; they belong to their original creators (Mutant Enemy, the WB and others) and I make no profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Dana for the glasses info. I know there's a lot of exposition in this — sorry. Archive permission granted to Whole New World and Blue Moon Rising if y'all want it.

Nominated for Best Fred/Wesley Fanfiction

Round Three

After searching the kitchen area of the hotel that they had woken up in, Charles Gunn, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Winifred Burkle made their way back to the lobby to await the return of Cordelia Chase and Liam. Gunn busied himself playing with the weapons they had located in a cabinet while Wesley double-checked the duct-taped demon they had located. He turned to see Winifred, or Fred as she had insisted on being called, sitting on the floor near the steps, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her head was resting on her knees and Wesley thought she looked a little anxious. He approached her slowly.

"Miss Burkle?"

She looked up into his eyes and grinned. "Thought I told ya to call me Fred?"

"Oh yes. I'm sorry...Fred. Are you all right?" He asked, sitting next to her on the stairs.

"I s'pose I'm fine. But I really don't understan' what's goin' on here." She turned slightly to face him. "How do y'all know that demons an' vampires really exist? And why are Cordelia, Liam, an' me here if you an' Gunn are the ones who know `bout all this?"

"Well." He paused and raised his hand to adjust his glasses, hitting the bare skin of his nose instead. He lowered his hand and looked at it curiously. "That's odd."

"What?" Fred asked.

"Nothing. I suppose I should answer your first question...um...first. The school I attend, the Watchers' Academy, is a training school for demon experts. Once I graduate I will join the Council of Watchers, whose duty it is to teach and train the Slayer and keep an eye on possible apocalyptic events. I don't know how Mr. Gunn knows about vampires, although I suppose he may live in an area heavily populated with them. I suspect that may be the answer to your second question as well. Perhaps Ms. Chase and yourself are Potential Slayers and you are being tested in preparation for that calling."

"What about Liam?"

"He may be a future Watcher. Perhaps he doesn't know about his calling yet."

"How did you know you were supposed to be a Watcher?"

"My family…" Wesley began, weakly, and then cleared his throat. "My father is a Watcher, as was his father. It is a tradition in my family."

"Didya ever want to be anything else?" Fred asked innocently.

"No. Knowing about all the evil in the world, how could I choose another path?"

"I jus' found out about it and I don't think I wanted to know." Fred ducked her head down, resting her forehead on her knees.

Wesley shifted, so he was kneeling in front of her. He gently raised her chin. "If you are meant to be the Slayer, you have the strength to know."

"Wesley, what is a Slayer? I'm still assuming ya don't mean the band."

"'In every generation there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.' That is the technical definition," Wesley concluded.

"And Potentials?" Fred queried, slightly stunned.

"At any given time, there is one Slayer and a number of young women who could become the next Slayer. The Council has located many of them. Some are assigned Watchers and are taught and trained young. Others, the Council simply keeps an eye on, you and Ms. Chase are likely to be in this category. And of course, some fall through the cracks."

"How does a Potential become the Slayer?"

"The previous Slayer dies and another is called."

"But what happens to Potentials who are never called?"

"Those who are never identified and those who do not know they are Potentials continue to live ordinary lives. Some of the others become Watchers. In fact, there are no women at the Watchers' Academy. All the female Watchers I know of were once Potentials."

Fred quickly processed this information, finishing with a devilish grin.

"What?" Wesley asked, a little nervous.

"So you don't spend much time `round girls, do ya?"

"No...uh not really." Wesley replied, backing away slightly.

Fred leaned closer to Wesley, until he could feel her breath on his lips. He closed his eyes, waiting.

"So," she asked, "Do Slayers ever date Watchers?" She placed her palm on his neck.

"Not usually." He breathed slowly.

"Then I don't think I wanna be a Slayer." She caressed his neck with her hand. "Were you in a fight?"

Wesley opened his eyes, that not having been the question he was expecting. "What?"

Fred had an intent look in her eyes as her hand began methodically exploring his neck. "You have a scar. It's kinda long and a bit jagged. Looks like a knife cut. You probably lost lots of blood. Ya don't remember?"

"No," Wesley began anxiously, his fingers replacing Fred's on his neck. "You would think that I would."

"Maybe it happened while we were asleep."

"But why? Why slit my throat? Why have me be the only one with weapons?" Wesley sounded agitated.

Fred grasped his hand in an attempt to calm him. "Maybe `cause you're the leader?"

"Of this group? No one is listening to me."

"I am. You're the only one who even has a theory `bout what's goin' on. I like theories." She added, ducking her head again.

"Well...maybe I am to be your Watcher."

"I don't want ya to be." Fred answered, smiling again.

"Why not?" Wesley queried, feeling a little insulted.

"'Cause then I couldn't do this." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. He pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss. Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the stairs about them. Wesley jumped away from Fred and began pretending to examine the demon. Fred stood and began swinging from the railing, as if she had no cares in the world. Wesley looked up at Cordelia and Liam.

"Did you have any luck?" he asked them, flashing a tiny grin in Fred's direction.

© March 2003

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