Wesley's eyes widen with shock when Faith snaps the bottle neck with her fingers. His attempt to reassure her has had the opposite effect. Before he can rush to her aid or apologise, though, Godric's cold reproachful gaze stops him in his tracks, and causes his unuttered words to lodge in his throat.

Nothing he does when it comes to Faith ever seems to work. How is it that no matter his intentions, the end result is always the same.

He nods, turning away, at a loss for where to look for a broom but apparently that's all he's good for.

Then the arrival of another visitor serves to make the situation even more untenable.

Wesley looks from Faith, to Godric, to Eric and back again. He sees the disgorged fangs. Slayer on tap?! Surely she wouldn't...Godric's pale features. His commanding presence despite his youthful appearance. The trace of an undefinable accent. How had he not seen it before?

He takes an uneasy step backwards, aware that he's not only terribly outnumbered but that the two men are actually Faith's guests. He can't help but reflexively reach his hand slowly into his pocket to check that he still has his stake handy.

"You're consorting with vampires now? Letting them feed upon you?!"