Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
using
 paypal
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Is your email address still valid?

A Sort of Homecoming

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking
Story

Summary: Post Angel Season-5. Wesley turns up in a field.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Wesley-Centered > Pairing: OtherDelwynColeFR1511,5662788327 May 1127 May 11No
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Stargate: SG-1, or Stargate: Atlantis. They belong to a whole host of individuals and corporate entities with more money than me.

Note: I tried to make this stick to canon through the end of Angel. I haven't read any of the Buffy comics, and I'm quite sure that it does not match up with comic canon. In terms of the Stargate universe, this takes place during Samantha Carter's tenure as leader of the Atlantis expedition. Definitely almost entirely AU from the moment she took the job, though. This story has been a long time coming, and I'm still trying to tweak the end.

Journal Entry: August 27, 2005
Giles has suggested that I resume writing in a Watcher's Journal. I have always managed to find some solace in my journals, so perhaps he is right. It has been a little over a month since I appeared here, not here precisely of course but a field in Surrey. I had no clothing and precious few memories, just an overwhelming and abiding sadness which I cannot seem to shake, even now.

It's pure luck that Giles' new Council of Watchers even found me. I'm told I have the supremely annoying, Andrew to thank for that. He recognized my face as it flashed onto the television screen during a local news program. He happened to catch a glimpse while searching for something more interesting.

I was dead for more than a year. I don't remember dying, and I suppose that's a blessing. I remember Angel's plan. I remember agreeing to it, going to Vale's. I never had much chance of surviving that battle, but I don't remember losing it either. No, the next thing I remember is waking up in that field.

It's past time that I start finding a place for myself. Giles has seen to my official resurrection. He has some experience in these matters, and it was much simpler than I would have imagined. He has also assured me that there is a place in his new Watcher's Council for me, if I want it.

I'm not sure that I do. This is not the Council I once knew. But, is it, can it be better? Is this my chance to help see the Council rebuilt as it was intended to be instead of as the secretive bureaucratic nightmare that it became? Is this why I was brought back from wherever I've been the last year?


"What would I do?" Wesley asks. "I'm not interested in taking charge of a Slayer. I think we can all agree that my skills are ill-suited to the task."

Giles looks at him with an expression that Wesley cannot entirely decipher. There's a gentleness to it that he has a hard time identifying with the man he once knew, and something, understanding maybe, beneath that. "You aren't the man that was sent to be Faith's Watcher. You haven't been for some time now."

"Even so, it's not something I will ever do again." Wesley is adamant. No matter how much he has changed, that is simply a responsibility he cannot shoulder.

Giles shrugs. "As you wish. There are plenty of places we could use you. You were always an excellent translator, and while Dawn's skills are coming along nicely, we could use someone in research with your depth of knowledge." He hesitates, but for so brief a moment that Wesley almost thinks he imagines it. "Then there are the training classes. Whatever you think of your skill at dealing with the girls, you are a first-class mage, and your hand-to-hand and weapons skills are superb. Willow and I could use your help in training the new watchers."

"Can I consider your offer for a few days?"

Journal Entry: March 9, 2008
It's been a rather interesting day. Parts of it have been at least. I'm still working on the Nirshaan translation of the Cyrannic Scrolls. I'm beginning to think that they were never a true translation, more of a paraphrase perhaps. In any case, it is slow and tedious work which I would gladly leave to Dawn if she could just get the trick of their verb tenses.

At least I have an excuse to set them aside for a few weeks. Xander has brought me a new crop of Watcher's to train, and a codex that he found in South Africa last month. If that weren't enough to distract me, I was contacted by a Dr. Daniel Jackson today. It seems that he remembers my work from years ago, just after I received my own doctorates. He's sent me something to take a look at, an obscure dialect related to Latin, he says. I suspect the two may be connected.


Wesley is rubbing his temples as he walks, which might account for why he doesn't immediately notice the figure sprawled on his best guest chair. "Hey, Wesley."

Wesley jumps at the too cheerful greeting. He turns to find Xander grinning at him, clearly pleased with himself. "Hello, Xander. I'd heard you were back. Is there something I can do for you?"

Xander rolls his one good eye. "Couldn't I just be stopping in to see an old friend?"

Wesley fights not to return the eye roll. Only Cordelia had ever made him do something so childish; he certainly wasn't going to allow Xander to do the same. "If you were, you'd be down the hall lurking in Dawn's office."

Xander seems to think about this for a minute before his brilliant smile breaks out again. "Probably true. I do have the paperwork on a bunch of potential new watchers. Giles says you've got the next class, so this is all yours." He tosses a small flash drive, and Wesley deftly catches it. "Also, I found something in South Africa and I thought I'd give you first crack at it. I know Dawn's busy with that thing, you know the Tibetan thing."

"It's taking up quite a bit of her time lately." Wes says. It's a side-project really, but they haven't had anything pressing and it's important to her. Potentially useful as well. If she’s right, a new system of magic entirely. "So, what have you brought me?" Wes's own smile is wide. He remembers vaguely, that when he was young, before he was asked to be watcher to an active slayer, translation had held this fascination for him. But it was very long ago. Even in Los Angeles, his translation was always a matter of duty, tedious work performed in an effort to avert this week's crisis. Since accepting this position in Giles' new Council, he'd had free rein to work on whatever projects caught his fancy, and usually more than enough time to handle it. It was his own fault that he was enmeshed in the Nirshaan translations. He'd offered, after all. They'd simply seemed more interesting at the time.

"Found a codex. It's old and it reeks of magic. Leather-bound, and I don't even want to know what hide they used to make the leather. I'm guessing they used blood for ink." Xander pulls a couple of sheets of loose paper from his backpack and hands it over. "Didn't recognize the script, but I figured you could handle it." He rolls his eyes again. "Giles insisted I send it through magical decon before releasing it to you."

"Not an entirely bad idea. I just hope that they don't destroy it trying to decontaminate it, like they did the Brixton Amulet last month." Wesley bites his lip lightly. The amulet had been relatively useless, so it was no great loss, but he had no way of knowing how important this codex might be.

"Nah, told them, with a note from G-Man no less, to not touch any spell that they had even a glimmer of suspicion was preserving it or holding it together, no matter what else it did." He laughs a bit when he realizes that he's completely lost Wesley's attention. “You academic types are so predictable, and I’ve never been interesting enough to compete.” He raps his knuckles against Wesley’s desk, to regain his attention.

Wes shakes his head and sets the papers on the desk. "Sorry, it's just that I've seen script very similar to that just today." He looks again at the blocky characters. "Here, look." He opens a window on his computer and brings it up. "An American anthropologist asked for my opinion on this. I wouldn't have bothered with it at all, but I'm fairly certain he's the one who has been stealing our top university prospects."

Xander leaned over the desk. "Hey, that does look like it." His brow wrinkles. "How much you wanna bet this isn't just a simple coincidence?"

"Not a thing." Wesley had found that when things like this happened it was almost never a coincidence, simple or otherwise.

They both looked at the screen for another long moment. "Hey, I really did come by to visit. We might not exactly be old friends, but I like to think we're newer ones. I thought maybe we'd get dinner."

Wesley knew that his smile was altogether too wide. "You couldn't find another companion, I take it."

"Hey, you were my second choice, buddy. Dawn is buried under the whoseywhatsit. That left me with Andrew, and don't get me wrong, I like him, but he grates, you know; one of the girls, and I've had enough of teenaged girly superheroes to last a lifetime, or at least a few days; Giles; and you. Every time I go to dinner with Giles, I feel like I'm out with my dad or something. Or you know, not my dad, because not so much with the angry drunken tirades, but with the fictional good guy dad that I always thought other people had. So you, are at the top of my list."

Wesley chuckles softly. "Just let me drop in on Magical Decontamination before we go. I have a few instructions for them."

The End?

The author is currently looking for one or more beta readers for this story. If you are interested, please email the author or leave a private review.

You have reached the end of "A Sort of Homecoming" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 27 May 11.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking