Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

Wesley had gotten dressed before he'd really considered what he was going to do for the day. Surprise surprise, he chose homework. He sat on his bed, a textbook on his lap so he could start a reading assignment, when he noticed that next to him on the bed was... an onion?

He leaned over to inspect it, because what was an onion doing on the couch, when all of a sudden it barked, "Your daddy doesn't love you!"

Wes blinked. Talking onion? "Wh - what?"

"Your daddy doesn't love you," the onion repeated matter-of-factly. "Because you're a disappointment. And a disgrace to the Watchers' Council."

Wesley ducked his head. "I know," he said quietly. He peered at the onion carefully, tilting his head to get a better look. What the hell?

"It's just that the Council trusted you," the onion continued after a pause. "Because they thought you could do the job. Lord knows Rupert Giles couldn't handle it. And then you went and botched it up, like you botch everything else up. You couldn't even handle two teenage girls. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really - "

Wesley stared. "I know all this," he said calmly. "Now unless you have something to tell me that I don't already know, I suggest that you stop talking and sit quietly like an onion should."

The onion was silent for a moment. Then: "Your Latin is dreadful."

Wes sank his head into his hands. Today was going to suck.

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