"Run, Wesley," the taunting female voice whispered, echoing in his mind as if his head were hollow. "You'd better hurry. They're after her."

The alleyway seemed to twist and turn like the garden maze on the grounds of a wealthy estate, but with walls of dirty gray brick and mortar instead of leafy green hedge rows. He couldn't find a way out. The harder he ran, the harder the rains poured and the more lost he felt.

"You're a weakling. You'll fail just like you always have done." This time the voice was masculine, with a staid British tone. A voice from his childhood, the one he had heard so often through a closed and locked door. A voice filled with authority and... dripping with disgust. "You were supposed to uphold our family name. I trusted you."

The rains poured, and still he ran.

"You failed me, too, Wes," the female voice whispered again. "You were supposed to be my guide, my watcher. I trusted you and you betrayed me. It's because of you I got lost in the darkness." She chuckled with wicked glee. "Now you've lost her, too."

His chest pounded, he gasped for air and gulped a mouthful of rain.

"What have you done? You were supposed to protect her." This was Angel's voice, shaded in disappointment and anger. "Wesley, I trusted you."

He stumbled to a halt, spinning around to look in all directions, desperately trying to find some way out, some sign that would lead him to the one person he had to find. Suddenly a figure emerged from the veil of rain, illuminated in a flash of lightning. Slowly, she walked toward him, the expression on her face terrifying in its aspect, reflecting wicked pleasure, pure evil and madness all at once. In her right hand was a shard of glass, held up like a stake, ready to be driven through his heart. It already dripped crimson with blood.

"Faith," he whispered her name, and she started to laugh, her eyes shining wildly, tossing her head back as the obscene sound reverberated like thunder.

"I told them where to find her, Wes. You're too late. They have her now."

A scream cut through the air from behind him.

"Too late," Faith smiled in triumph.

"No!" he screamed, and ran toward the sound. Before him loomed a solid brick wall. As he got closer, a door appeared and slowly began to open. Without hesitation, he ran inside. He was suddenly standing inside what appeared to be a vast warehouse, surrounded in all directions by crates piled high toward a ceiling that didn't exist.

And the rain still fell.

"Where are you?" he cried frantically. He couldn't be too late. Please, God, he just couldn't.

"I'm right here," came the calm reply. A figure emerged from behind one of the stacks and seemed to almost glide toward him. An intense feeling of relief washed over him to see her standing before him, apparently unharmed.

"Cordelia," he sighed. "Are you all right? I heard you scream."

"Oh, I'm fine. Just peachy." She walked toward him, her hands held behind her, twisting her shoulders back and forth and bouncing on her toes like a mischievous little girl. She came up close, reaching her hands up, placing them on either side of his face, she kissed him hard on the lips. He felt his body react with a different kind of tension, and a pleasant warmth that seemed to abate the chill. Finally, she broke the contact, pulling back to smile up at him. Breathless, he stared back.

"I did expect you sooner," she told him.

"I got lost," he admitted.

"That's okay." She caressed his cheek with her thumb. "I wasn't alone."

He frowned. "Who..." Before he could continue, her lips claimed his again, but this time, he knew something wasn't right. The touch felt... unnatural. He tried to push the thought aside, as she began to trail kisses across his cheek, along the line of his jaw, pausing to nibble playfully at his earlobe. She began to move down the side of his neck, and with a sickening realization, he knew what was wrong. The touch of her lips was no longer warm; in fact, they were ice cold. His mind had barely registered the fact when he felt the sting of her teeth sinking into his soft flesh.

He shoved her away, his eyes going immediately to her neck. A small trickle of blood flowed from the two small punctures on her neck, confirming his worst fears. His eyes flew back to her face, and as he watched with increasing horror, she licked her lips, her tongue wiping away the telltale drops of blood at the corner of her mouth.

"No!" he cried from the very depths of his soul, and began to slowly back away from her.

"Is this your friend?" a voice called from behind Cordelia, and he could just make out three or four shadowy figures moving closer.

"This is Wesley," she introduced. "Come on, Wes, come meet my new friends." Her gaze intensified. "Come join us. Let me show you how wonderful it can be."

Wesley could only stare, mechanically shaking his head as he stumbled back, away from them. Suddenly he lost his footing on the rain-wet floor and fell crashing back into one of the wooden boxes. It splintered beneath his weight.

"Too late," Faith's sing-song voice condemned.

"Too late," Angel's voice echoed sadly.

"Always, too late," his father whispered.

"We can be together forever, Wesley. Isn't that what you want?" Cordelia moved closer, smiling down at him. She reached out toward him as she began to lower herself, sinking closer and closer to him. Beneath his hand, lie a broken piece of wood. Of their own volition, his fingers began to close around it, even as his mind screamed no.

"Don't you love me, Wesley? Don't you want to be with me forever?" she asked, moving ever closer. Then, as he watched in abject horror, her face morphed into the true features of her new form, her smile turning obscene as she bared her teeth, tilted her head and leaned down toward his neck.

"NO!!" he screamed, his hand thrusting out and driving the splintered piece of wood into the center of her chest, directly into Cordelia's heart.

She gasped, her eyes dropping to look in surprise at the instrument of her destruction. Then, as she looked back up at Wesley, her features softened into the image of the young woman he knew.

"Wesley?" Her voice was so quiet, its tone so childlike and innocent, it was painful to hear. As her eyes locked with his, her entire being exploded into millions of particles of dust, falling to the floor. Even as they fell, the rain began to wash them away.

Without looking around him, Wesley knew he was alone. Utterly alone. The vampires had disappeared. Even the voices of his accusers seemed to have deserted him. He sat and watched as the last traces of someone he had loved flowed away. Then, echoing in the silence, he heard Cordelia's voice whispering as if to his very soul.

"I trusted you."

Faith laughed.

And the rain fell.

"Wesley! Wes, wake up!"

He tried to jerk away from the hand on his arm, but the grip was strong. Suddenly, his eyes began to focus. The office. He was in the office, sitting behind his employer's desk. His eyes moved to the hand still firmly holding him. He followed the arm up to the face above him.

"Angel?"

"Take it easy." Angel's voice was calm, but his expression held a frown of concern as he looked down at his young associate. "You were having a nightmare, I think."

Wesley shook his head in denial. How could it have been a dream? It was so real. He could still feel the rain on his face.

He brought his hand up to touch it and found that it was indeed wet. But not with rain, he realized. A wave of embarrassment washed over him, and he blinked away the moisture that was still in his eyes as he wiped at the dampness from his face. His efforts appeared to be in vain as Angel handed him a handful of tissues.

"I--uh--I must have fallen asleep. I was just trying to--uh--finish up the research on that demon you dispatched last night."

"There's no hurry. That particular demon isn't going to hurt anyone ever again."

"But we needed to know..." He wasn't sure what they needed to know. He tried to focus on the open book and notes before him.

"Wesley, this isn't the first time you've stayed up most of the night doing research lately. You're exhausted. It's no wonder you fell asleep at the desk."

"This is important," he protested.

"Yes, but not at the risk of your health." Angel finally released Wesley's arm and sat down on the edge of the desk. "Cut yourself some slack. You can't help anyone if you drive yourself too hard."

"I'm all right," the younger man insisted. "You depend on me to make sure we haven't missed anything. I'm just doing my job."

"You don't have to prove to me how valuable you are, you know. You've already done that. I've come to depend on you. I trust you."

Wesley's eyes flew open wide, and he leapt to his feet, sending the chair toppling over with a loud crash.

"What is it?" Angel asked. "What's wrong?"

Wesley felt his chest tighten, and he was having a hard time breathing as the words brought back the images of his dream in full force and with them, the horror and fear. Suddenly, his eyes darted around the office searching.

"Cordelia! Where's Cordelia?"

"At home asleep," Angel replied. "She left right before I went out. You remember when she left she said she was too tired to do anything but to straight home and get some sack time."

Wesley grabbed for the telephone. "I have to call her. I have to be sure she's all right."

"Wesley," Angel's grabbed the hand that held the receiver. "It's five-thirty in the morning. Think about this. She's going to be furious if you wake her up."

"I don't care!" he cried, breaking free from Angel's hold. The vampire held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay. But try to keep this in perspective. It was only a dream. Cordelia is fine."

"I..." he hesitated, turning toward the vampire, his features marked by indecision. Angel's expression was still concerned, but understanding.

"Your nightmare. I'm assuming Cordelia was in danger?"

"Y-Yes," Wesley stammered.

"It wasn't real, Wes. It was just a dream. Remember, Cordelia's the one with the visions, not you. Have you ever shown any signs of precognition?"

"No," he admitted.

"Then there's no reason to believe your nightmare is anything more than just that. A nightmare."

"It seemed so real."

"The worst ones usually do," Angel sighed as he reached out and took the forgotten receiver from Wesley's fingers and placed it back on its cradle. "What you need is a little rest."

Wesley shook his head. "I don't think I could sleep. Not now." In truth, he was exhausted, but the idea of entering his nightmare reality once again terrified him. "I should just get back to my research."

Angel shook his head. "No more tonight." To emphasize his words, he closed the book Wesley had been using. "If you don't want to try and sleep, how about something to eat? Come on down and I'll make you a sandwich and we can try and figure out a way to get out of going to that movie Cordelia's been trying to get us to go see." Angel flashed him one of his rare genuine smiles. It was hard for anyone to resist.

"All right," Wesley reluctantly agreed. "Sorry to be such a bother."

"No problem. I'm a night owl myself."

"So I understand," Wesley replied with a smile of his own, albeit a somewhat forced one.

Angel clasped his shoulder and led him toward the stairs.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Angel. He was not, by nature, much of a conversationalist, while Wesley, at times (and if the topic was right) could compete with Cordelia at producing an endless stream of dialogue. The young Englishman was the one who always wanted to talk through every plan before taking action. Whether that came naturally or was a result of his watcher training, the vampire didn't know. Angel freely admitted he was the "charge in and hit 'em in the face" type. Yet, tonight, it was Angel who was attempting to keep up a stream of conversation from small talk to discussing the difficulties of translating obscure languages, trying to divert his associate's attention from the nightmare that obviously had left him deeply shaken. It wasn't working, and he noticed Wesley's constant glances at the clock.

A half-eaten sandwich lay before the former watcher. It had taken much encouragement to get him to eat as much as he had. Angel had been describing the plot in a novel he had recently read, but he could tell Wesley wasn't hearing a word.

Finally, he decided to go for the direct approach.

"Wesley, why don't you tell me about your nightmare?" Wesley's eyes, which had been studying his hands, suddenly shot up, and Angel could see the fear in them, like a cornered animal. "It might help if you just get it out in the open."

"No," Wesley replied, shaking his head firmly. "I--I can't, Angel. I don't want to... I can't."

"Wes..."

"Please!" Wesley closed his eyes tight. "I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help, but..."

Angel could see it would do no good to press the matter. "Okay."

"Perhaps I should get back to that research..."

"Wesley..."

"Look," Wesley sighed. "I know you've been trying to get my mind off the nightmare. But I think the only way that's going to happen is if I occupy it with work."

He looked so desperate, Angel finally nodded. "All right, but after Cordelia gets here, and you assure yourself that she's fine, I want you to go home and get some real sleep. Is that a deal?"

"Yes," he agreed, perhaps a little too quickly, Angel thought.

"Okay." As soon as the word was out of his employer's mouth, Wesley was on his feet and headed up the stairs. Even with his anxiety to get away, there was a weariness in Wesley's steps. There was no doubt that the nightmare had upset him, but this wasn't an isolated incident. This had been building up for a couple of weeks. Angel was certain this wasn't the first sleepless night Wesley had suffered through. He'd been throwing himself into his work ever since...

Ever since Faith had come to town and decided to use her former watcher to practice her torture techniques. Wesley had never told them just exactly what had happened, but from what he saw of the room and of Wesley later, Angel had a pretty good idea. Wesley wanted them to think he had simply put it behind him. For a while, he had put up a good front. During the investigation for David Nabbit and their encounter with Gunn and his vampire hunting gang of kids, he'd seemed very much his old self. Yet...

There were the dark circles under the eyes. The prolonged silences as he stared off into space. Angel had hoped that eventually his friend would be willing to talk about it. Both Angel and Cordelia had made it clear they were there to listen whenever he needed them. But it never happened. His nightmare tonight was most likely just another effect of his attempts to keep his pain to himself.

Angel knew all about keeping things inside. He'd had over a hundred years' experience at it, ever since his soul had been restored by a gypsy curse. It was a choice he himself had made so often that by now it was second nature.

But Wesley wasn't Angel, and Angel had come to understand that one of the down sides to letting himself care was having to watch his friends suffer and being unable to do anything about it.

With a sigh, Angel brought an end to his retrospection and spent some time cleaning up the kitchen. Then he made his way upstairs. Wesley had moved his work out to Cordelia's desk and was sitting at the computer. Angel mumbled something about coming up to collect his novel. Wesley certainly wasn't fooled, but let it pass.

Angel picked up the book he had been reading and headed back out of his office, but instead of going back downstairs, he sat on the sofa and started reading. After a moment, he looked up at Wesley, who had noticed his actions, and shrugged. "Light's better up here," he explained.

"Of course," Wesley replied, then turned back to the terminal. It appeared that he was genuinely engaged in his research and Angel began to relax a bit. However, as it grew closer to time for Cordelia to arrive, he noticed the Englishman once again becoming agitated. Finally, at eight-twenty, Wesley gave up all pretense of working and started pacing the floor. Angel watched while pretending not to notice the constant glances at the clock and the looks out the window.

When eight-thirty had come, but Cordelia had not, Wesley added trips to the front door of the office to his pacing routine. Finally, at eight-thirty-five, he couldn't seem to take it any longer.

"She's not here," he announced.

Angel looked up from his book. "Wesley, when have you ever known Cordelia to be on time? Sit down and try to relax, will you? You're wearing out the floor."

Wesley ignored the attempt at humor, but he did move around the desk and sank into the chair. The tension was evident in his body, sitting stiffly upright with his hands clenched in front of him. His eyes kept flicking from the door to the clock and back again. Another ten minutes passed, and Angel could feel the panic building up in the young man. He was beginning to regret not letting Wesley call Cordelia in the first place. Incurring her wrath for waking her up would have been a small price to pay for Wesley's peace of mind.

Finally, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall just outside the office and the door opened. As both Wesley and Angel held their breath, Cordelia Chase floated in with a box in her hands and a smile on her face.

"Good morning, everyone!"

"Cordelia!" Wesley rushed around the desk. "Thank God."

"What, you couldn't even make the coffee without me? Jeez, but you guys are domestically impaired.

Wesley's initial relief seemed to have evaporated, and he positioned himself in front of Cordelia demanding, "Do you know what time it is?"

She looked at the clock. "Eight forty-five," she replied. "You want the temperature too?" Her irritation was beginning to show.

"You're late. You were supposed to be here at eight thirty."

She stared at him. "And your point is?"

"Where have you been?!" Wesley was practically screaming at her. Angel laid his book aside, preparing to intercede if necessary.

"Duh!" She waved the box under his nose. "I stopped by to pick up the donuts. Something I do quite often. Funny how no one else seems to think of it. Of course, you have no trouble remembering to eat them!"

Wesley grabbed the box from her hands and threw it across the room angrily. "I don't care about the damned donuts!" He grabbed her arms roughly.

Cordelia grimaced. "Ouch! That hurts!"

"Wesley!" Angel jumped to his feet.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the former watcher's anger melted away. He dropped his hands, and he took a step back from Cordelia. All the color seemed to drain from his face as he stared at her. She was staring back at him, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"Oh, God," Wesley breathed. "Cordelia, I'm--I'm sorry. I'm sorry." With that, he bolted toward the front door.

"Wesley, stop!" Angel called, but he was already gone. "Damn!"

Angel's hand moved to his mouth and he rubbed his fingers across his lips as he tried to digest what had just happened. Turning back, he found Cordelia still standing frozen in shock.

"Wh--What just happened here?" she asked, holding her hands out to her sides as if to steady her suddenly spinning world.

"Cordelia..." He started to put his hand on her shoulder, but she pushed it away.

"No, you tell me. Something is really wiggy here. I've never seen Wesley like that. I mean, he..."

"He didn't mean to hurt you," Angel told her.

"I know that!" she replied. "He looked... wild and... terrified. And the look on his face just before he..." She took a deep steadying breath. "I swear there were tears in his eyes. Angel, what the hell is going on?"

Angel took a deep breath and prepared to bring Cordelia up to speed.

Wesley had no idea where he was running to. He just knew he had to get away. Away from what he had done, what he had almost done. From the look on Cordelia's face. My God, she had been afraid of him. He'd never seen that look in her eyes when they were trained on him. At least, not outside the realm of his nightmare.

His energy evaporated very quickly once he was away from the office. He realized he was in the park, near the coffee vendor where only a few days before, he and Cordelia had sat and chatted. Sinking down on the bench they had occupied, he let his mind drift back to that sunny day.

Things had seemed so normal then. Angel Investigations had just concluded their job for billionaire David Nabbit, and had ended up rescuing a group of homeless kids from a nest of vampires. While it had been a little hairy for a while, especially for Angel, Wesley had actually found himself enjoying the time he spent with Cordelia working on the case. Her consistent unpredictability had helped to divert his mind, to keep him from dwelling on... darker thoughts. He had actually felt relaxed sitting here talking about her idea of prostituting herself to the nerdy billionaire for the sake of financial security. Wesley hadn't for a moment taken her seriously, but had enjoyed watching her debate the merits of the absurd notion. It had felt so comfortable, just two friends talking about silly things, enjoying the day and each other's company.

But after the few days of purposeful activity, of an actual case to concentrate on, he had returned home to a long night with only his own personal demons to keep him company. And now...

Now, could Cordelia ever forgive him? God, he'd acted like a madman. Maybe he was going mad. Did a person realize it when they were going insane? He lowered his face into his hands and fought back tears. Once more, he'd managed to completely bugger things up.

"Wesley?"

He raised his head at the unexpected voice, but immediately looked away when he saw Cordelia standing before him. He felt her sit down beside him on the bench and considered running again, but he was just too tired, physically and emotionally.

Cordelia spent a few second just watching Wesley before she spoke.

"Angel told me about your nightmare. I'm sorry I was late."

"No," he shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't know. I..."

"You should have called me when you had the nightmare."

"I wanted to, but Angel said you'd be mad."

"He was probably right, but I'd have got over it." She let out a huff. "Well, now I'm mad at Angel. He should have let you call. If you ever have a nightmare like that again, I want you to call. I don't care what time it is. Do you understand?"

He nodded. "Cordelia, I'm--I'm sorry... The way I acted..."

"Hey, it's okay."

"No, it's not!" he replied. "I spend half the night worrying about you and as soon as you walk in, what do I do? I scream at you. And... I hurt you." The last was a whisper.

"Oh, come on. Hurt me? Phtt! Remember, I grew up in Sunnydale. I've been grabbed and knocked around by demons and football jocks! What on earth makes you think a wimpy watcher-type guy like you could hurt me? I'm a tough cookie. Pity the mugger who tries to attack me. I carry a stake. I'll get 'em right in the heart!"

Wesley stiffened.

Cordelia was instantly concerned. "Wes? What is it? Did I say something? I'm always saying stupid things. Don't mind me."

"N-No, it's--it's nothing. It's okay."

She looked at him closely, but he wouldn't look at her. She resolved that she had to do something here.

"No, it's not. And it won't be if you try and keep all this stuff bottled up inside of you." She reached out and took his hand, holding it in both of hers. She was shocked to feel him trembling. She took a deep breath and charged ahead. "I want you to tell me about this dream. All of it. Right now."

He tried to pull his hand away, but she held on tight. "No, Cordelia, I can't."

"Yes, you can. You have to. Listen to me. You didn't hurt me before, but if you don't talk to me now, I'll really be hurt. Don't you know how much it hurts for me to see you so upset? If it were me, wouldn't you do just about anything to try and make me feel better?" His eyes rose to meet hers for the first time and she was once more surprised to see the unshed tears. "Oh, please, Wesley. I can't stand this. Tell me. Tell me now. You think you're protecting me, but you're not."

Wesley caught his breath. "That's just it, I couldn't protect you."

"In the dream?"

He nodded.

"Protect me from what?" He shook his head. "Don't! Don't do that. Don't clam up on me. Someone was hurting me, in the dream, and you couldn't protect me. Tell me what it was."

"I... from... the vampires."

"Okay, so now we know the bad guys and the good guys. What we need now is a plot synopsis."

"Cordelia, I don't think... I can face it again."

"But you won't be facing it alone, I promise. It'll be all right. Start from the beginning."

He was silent for what seemed like a long time, but she waited. Finally, he began.

"It-it was raining and... and I was running down these alleys. I knew I had to find you, but I couldn't. I was lost. No matter which way I turned, I couldn't find my way out."

Cordelia squeezed his hand tighter.

"Then I saw..."

"What? Who?"

He shook his head. "I heard you scream. She said it was too late."

"She?" Cordelia asked, but Wesley didn't seem to hear her.

"I ran toward the sound and I found you in... in some kind of warehouse. At first, I thought you were all right."

"But I wasn't?" Again, he shook his head. "Was I... did the vampires... kill me?"

He turned away. "No, they... you were... they had..."

Suddenly she knew. "They'd turned me into a vampire." He nodded. "Well, that didn't happen. Here we are, sitting in the bright sunlight, so score one for reality over the dream world!"

He shook his head. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

He hesitated, then said firmly, "Nothing. That's all. I woke up."

She narrowed her gaze at him. "No, something else happened. What did I do? Did I try to bite you?" His hand in hers closed so tight it was painful, and she realized she'd hit on it. "That's it, isn't it? They turned me into a vamp and I tried to put the bite on you. So, what did you do?"

He turned and looked at her, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I killed you." She couldn't keep the shock from showing on her face, and Wesley saw it. "I was supposed to protect you. You trusted me to protect you. Just like when Faith..." He squeezed his eyes closed.

Faith. That explained a lot, Cordelia thought.

"It was just a dream. It wasn't real. It didn't happen and it won't."

"You can't know that! Neither of us can be sure it won't happen!"

She thought for a moment. "Okay, I can't promise I won't be bitten by a vampire. Hey, we work for a vampire! So, sometimes it's dangerous and things could happen. We've been in scrapes before, and we've always come out okay. I know you and Angel look out for me. Well, I look out for you guys, too. That's what friends do. They look out for each other. But none of us can be sure we'll always come out alive." She took a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "Doyle didn't. And I know how I felt when that happened. Angel, too, even if he tries not to show it. It hurt like hell. It still hurts." She gave his hand a squeeze as she gained her momentum again. "But I know he'd want us to go on, and if anything ever happened to me, I wouldn't want you or Angel to blame yourselves. I'm here because I want to be. This is the good old USA, remember? Free country and all that. So don't go thinking my life is your responsibility. It isn't. It's mine. Dump the macho man mind set. You're only human. We can't go around afraid all the time that something might happen. We just have to take life as we get it--one day at a time." She stopped for a moment. "You know, you can snap out of this stupid funk anytime now and tell me to stop. I'm beginning to get sappy and before you know it, I'm going to be spouting cliches."

Wesley smiled in spite of himself. "Too late."

Cordelia chuckled. "So, are we okay here? I mean, there's the big, bad dream, all exposed to the sunlight. No more shadows."

"I suppose." Cordelia frowned. He still sounded pretty shaky, and she knew there was still more to the dream than he had told her. This all led back to Faith and what she'd done to him. But Cordelia realized she had already pushed pretty hard. Maybe it was better to wait a little while before bringing up the rogue slayer.

"We'd better get back to the office before Angel worries himself to death or--whatever. Guess you can't do that if you're already dead. See, there are advantages to being a vampire."

"No, I don't think there are," he replied very quietly.

"Yeah, you're probably right. We have to remember just how lucky we human beings are."

He looked at her meaningfully and nodded. "Yes, at this moment, I realize just how lucky I am."

"Let's get to the donut shop before they sell out of the jelly filled with multi-colored sprinkles or I'm not going to be able to face the day. And you're buying, Mr. Toss-the-Pastries-Across-the-Room!"

"I'm buying," he agreed.

"And you're cleaning up the mess you made, too. I'm not going to do it!"

"I'll clean up."

Cordelia laughed. "You know, I could get used to you agreeing with me."

"Don't," Wesley advised. This time his smile seemed more relaxed and genuine.

They just sat looking at each other for a moment. Suddenly Cordelia felt her eyes filling up with tears. "I don't know about you, but I could use a hug right about now."

"You sure I wouldn't ruin your reputation?"

"Nah, nobody's watching us." With that, she put her arms around him and was relieved to feel his encircling her gently and comfortably. She didn't think the storm had passed, but she welcomed the momentary calm.

Cordelia was wrong. Someone was watching--from just inside the doorway of the office building across the street from the park. Angel had gone through the tunnels and come up in this building suspecting they might have ended up here where he knew they often took their afternoon break. He watched as his two friends embraced and allowed himself to relax a little. He had hoped Cordelia could get through to Wesley, and apparently she had.

They had made it through this momentary crisis, but he knew from personal experience, his young associate still had much to face. Until he talked to someone about what happened with Faith, he wouldn't be able to put it behind him. If Wesley wasn't willing to talk to them, Angel wasn't sure he and Cordelia alone could help their friend.

Perhaps there was someone else who was better equipped for this situation. The one person the vampire knew who could truly understand what Wesley was going through. Angel knew he didn't have the right to ask, but for Wesley's sake... With one last glance toward his friends, he headed back for the tunnels.

As soon as he got to the office, he reached for the phone, dialed the number and waited as it rang.

* * * * *

Wesley leaned back in his chair at Angel's kitchen table, took off his glasses, squeezed his tired eyes closed and massaged the bridge of his nose. His headache was just getting worse, and now it was causing his vision to blur. Not a good thing when he had all this research to do. It was important work.

Not half as important as keeping his mind occupied, his conscience whispered. No matter how much he denied it, he couldn't lie to himself. Tracing source material on demon lore was valuable to Angel in his fight against the forces of darkness, but the darkness Wesley was fighting right now was wholly contained within his own mind.

The incident two days ago when he'd had the nightmare about Cordelia had taught him to be more cautious around his friends. He no longer stayed at the office all night to work. Instead, he took his research home with him. He stayed awake as long as he could, but inevitably fatigue would win out and he would fall asleep... and new nightmares would assault him. Sometimes it was Cordelia whom he failed to save from a horrible fate; sometimes it was Angel. Always, Faith was there, laughing, reminding him of his failures, enjoying his pain.

It would pass, he told himself. He simply had to will himself to get over it. It was stupid to dwell on pain that was in the past. Hadn't he learned that lesson long ago? Get past it. Find direction for your life and plunge into it headfirst. That philosophy had taken him to the top of his class in watcher training and had netted him the choice assignment as watcher to the active slayer. Slayers, he corrected himself. And look where all his training, his study, his dogged determination to succeed had got him.

Bound and gaged and tortured by one of the chosen... one he had been assigned to teach and to guide.

Maybe if you'd been a better watcher...

Faith's words rang over and over in his mind, waking and dreaming.

Total failure in your assignment... losing control of both slayers.

Quentin Travers' words, printed in stark, cold relief on a piece of paper, to inform him his services to the council would no longer be required. Total failure. Buffy had turned her back on the council, and Faith...

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the memories aside, settling his glasses in place to resume his research. But before his eyes could focus on the books before him on the table, he saw his employer standing across the room silently watching him as he towel-dried his hair. He didn't miss the scrutiny in Angel's gaze, but he chose to ignore it.

"Morning, Angel," he tried for a cheery tone. "Patrolling all night again?"

The vampire with a soul nodded. "Ran into a pack of vampires in the old warehouse district near the reclamation plant. Got a couple. It started to rain and the rest scattered."

Wesley dutifully grabbed up his yellow pad and started making notes. "How many do you think got away?"

"Three, maybe four," Angel answered.

"I'll add them to the database. It's been useful in the past to keep track of the location of sightings. We might be able to develop a pattern that will enable us to more easily predict where the next appearances will be. I believe this is the fourth time you've encountered vampire activity in that general area."

"Mmm," Angel responded.

When Wesley glanced up, he noted Angel was still watching him thoughtfully and braced himself for the questions he knew were about to come.

"So, you been here long?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I was a little late this morning. Overslept, I'm afraid."

"All those late nights catching up with you," Angel commented.

"Mmm."

An uncomfortable silence once again descended upon them. It was Angel who chose to break it.

"Well, I'd better go upstairs and check with Cordelia. Hope she has some fresh coffee."

"I believe she was just making it when I came down," Wesley replied.

"Care to join me?"

His first impulse was to decline, but that would be too suspicious, Wesley decided. "Certainly. Sounds appealing."

Wesley knew better than to think he was fooling Angel for a moment, but he was grateful the vampire had chosen not to press the issue since the nightmare incident. The young Englishman knew his employer well enough to know it wasn't a reprieve. Merely a postponement. Sooner or later he'd have to explain himself, and that was something he wasn't prepared to do.

"Morning," Angel greeted Cordelia. "Coffee?"

"Fresh pot," she replied. "I see you managed to pry Mr. Baggy Eyes away from his demons."

Wesley sighed. He wasn't fooling Cordelia either, but unlike Angel, she was completely unfamiliar with the concept of subtlety.

"There're fresh donuts, too," she said to the former watcher. "It probably wouldn't hurt if you put something solid in your stomach."

"And we all know the nutritional value of jelly, pastry and sugar," he replied.

"Well, you have to eat something once in a while. I hear it ranks right up there with sleep as one of the essentials for healthy living." She glanced at Angel who was pouring a cup of steaming java. "For those of us who are... living, that is."

Angel offered her a glance as he passed the cup to Wesley and started pouring another for himself.

"You probably should eat one or two, Wes," Angel told him. "We can't leave them all for Cordelia. Wouldn't do if she started putting on too much weight."

"What?!" Cordelia yelped. Wesley chuckled and shared a conspiratorial smile with the vampire.

"Well, it has been quiet the last few days with no legwork to burn off the calories." He watched over the rim of the cup for her reaction as he took a sip of the hot liquid.

"I am not putting on weight!" She looked from Wesley to Angel and back again, her expression moving seamlessly from anger to self-consciousness. "It's the dress. It makes me look fat, doesn't it? I knew it! It's...."

"I think you look just fine," a voice from the doorway interrupted. "In fact, I'd say your fashion sense hasn't wavered in the slightest."

"Giles!"

"Hello, Cordelia," the tweed-suited Englishman replied as he shook his umbrella. "Angel - Wesley," he nodded at the two men. "Rather rainy weather we're having... for California, that is."

"What brings you to LA?" Cordelia asked.

Giles' eyes darted momentarily toward Angel before returning to the young woman. "Actually, I came to do some shopping."

"Oh?" Wesley asked, his eyes narrowing.

"For books," the older man replied. "I'm afraid my collection has a few gaps since the rather unfortunate destruction of the library. We managed to remove the more valuable texts, but there were still a few volumes of the more mundane, but useful variety that were lost."

"Better the books than us," Cordelia replied with a shiver at the memory of their battle with Sunnydale's demonically transformed mayor.

"Quite right," Giles agreed. "A worthy sacrifice, but it does leave my resources a bit wanting. However, I'm not all that familiar with the rare book stores in Los Angeles, and I was rather hoping Wesley could point me in the right direction."

"Of course," Wesley agreed.

"We have a pretty good basic collection downstairs, thanks to Wes," Angel said. "You're welcome to take a look. Use them anytime you need them."

"That's very generous of you, Angel. Thank you."

There was a tension between the two men despite their friendly words, and Wesley could feel it.

"Uh, Wes, why don't you take Giles down and show him our library."

"Certainly," he agreed, hesitating as he watched the vampire and the former watcher. "Uh, this way," he said finally, indicating the stairs to Giles.

"Right."

As they disappeared, Angel moved to Cordelia's desk and sank down on the corner.

"He's suspicious," she whispered.

"Probably," Angel agreed. "I just hope Giles can get him to talk to him."

"If anyone can, it's Giles," Cordelia replied. "He's really good with people. Besides, he and Wesley have a lot in common." She hesitated. "I mean, being British and watchers and stuff like that."

"Yeah," Angel replied thoughtfully. "A lot in common."

"You've really got some impressive volumes here, I must say," The sound of muffled thunder accompanied his words as Giles scanned the titles on the bookshelves in Angel's apartment. "The Barrows must have been hard to come by. And the Hensdale Compendium of Demonology is in excellent condition."

"There's a shop downtown that has some good connections among the international occult community. I'll give you the address."

"Thank you. That will be most helpful." He turned to look at the spread of books and notepads on the kitchen table. "And you seem to be putting your library to good use. What are you researching, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Some texts on demon lore from the early twelfth century. I'm working on an index that will make identification quicker."

"Cross-referencing by physical characteristics?"

"Yes, as well as hunting and feeding habits, preferred climate, propensity for violence and the like."

"Mmm, perhaps we could collaborate. It could be a handy resource for both of us."

"I'd welcome your input," Wesley replied.

Giles fingered one of the open books. "So, how are things going, Wesley? I mean working for Angel and all."

"Much as you'd expect, I'd imagine," Wesley replied, trying to sound matter of fact.

"It can't be easy. I mean, spending your entire life being trained to kill vampires and suddenly finding yourself working for one."

Wesley frowned. "Angel isn't a typical vampire."

"No, of course not." Giles replied. "But he can still be dangerous. You mustn't forget that."

Wesley frowned at the turn in the conversation. "I assure you, I haven't."

"I mean, you didn't see what he was like when the curse was lifted. Angelus is one of the most savage creatures in history."

"Yes, I know."

"Intellectually, yes, but that's very different from experiencing it yourself."

"I have."

Giles looked at him in surprise.

"A while back, one of our 'clients' slipped a drug into Angel's drink. It was a tranquilizer that induces artificial bliss. The effect on Angel was to temporarily turn him back into Angelus."

Giles stared at Wesley. "Did he... Was anyone hurt?"

"No. Cordelia and I managed to knock him out. We chained him up until the effects wore off."

"I see," Giles replied. "You were lucky."

"Yes, we were. But it was not Angel's fault."

"No, no. Of course..." Giles seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as he wandered into the living area and sank down on the sofa. Wesley followed.

"You're still... uncomfortable around Angel, aren't you?" Wesley asked.

Giles looked up, an intensity in his gaze. "I think I have a right to be."

"You also should know that Angel and Angelus are two totally different beings."

"Are they?"

"Of course they are!"

"You're awfully quick to come to his defense."

"I've come to know him over the past few months. I trust him."

"So did I. But then I had a rather rude awakening. Don't allow yourself to grow to complacent, Wesley. As much as you tell yourself Angel and Angelus are not the same person, in point of fact, Angelus is always inside Angel, just waiting to come out. He uses that demon, that rage, every time he goes into battle. There's always the chance that he won't be able to control it."

"I'm aware of everything you've said, but I still chose to put my trust in him. I've seen the goodness in him. How dedicated he is to helping people. And I owe him."

Giles leapt to his feet. "And how loyal would you be if he murdered the woman you loved? If he slowly and sadistically tortured you, taking great delight in your pain?"

All the color drained from Wesley's face. "I..." He turned away and stumbled to one of the room's pillars, grasping at the brick surface to steady himself.

"Could you put your trust in Faith?" Giles asked quietly.

"Th-that was different."

"Oh? How?" Giles asked. "Maybe Buffy got it wrong, but I was under the impression our little rogue slayer did quite a number on you."

"Stop it!" Wesley cried. The thunder from outside sounded again, so close this time that the walls seemed to rock.

"Tell me about it. Lord knows, I'm in a position to understand."

Wesley spun around to face him. "Then I don't have to tell you how it feels."

"I think you do. I think you need to tell someone what it was like to feel helpless and afraid, to feel the pain and know that there would only be more. To wish for release, even if that release was your death."

"Stop!" Wesley put his hands over his ears.

Giles sighed. "I don't want to hurt you, Wesley, but can't you see you're hurting yourself now?"

"Don't you understand? I caused what happened!" Wesley screamed. "It was my fault."

"Your fault? How was it your fault? It was Faith who..."

"Faith... was my fault."

Giles shook his head. "That's absurd."

"You of all people should know. You were there. You saw how stupidly I handled everything. I was her watcher... and I failed her."

Giles considered for a moment before replying. "Perhaps you did. But you can't hold yourself wholly responsible for what she became. The seeds of madness were there long before you came on the scene."

"Angel said it. He had a chance to turn her around before things got completely out of hand. I stopped him. I was supposed to teach her, to help her. I was the one person she was supposed to be able to trust implicitly. All she learned from me was that she couldn't trust anyone."

"There were many failures that contributed to Faith's ultimate fate. But you can't deny that each of us is human. We have the right and the ability to make our own life choices. Inevitably, sometimes we will make the wrong choice. We fail. It's how we face those failures that truly determines our path in this world. To take on total responsibility for Faith's actions is to deny her humanity."

Wesley walked past the older man, staring at the wall before him. "All my life, I trained to be a watcher. And when put to the first test, I failed. The consequences of that failure put Faith on the final road to self-destruction. Should I now abrogate my responsibility? Should I just shrug it off and say 'oh, well' and move on?"

"No. I won't tell you you're entirely blameless. But you're taking upon yourself more than your share. I have to admit to my part, too. I certainly could have handled things better."

"It wasn't your responsibility anymore."

"Just because I was fired as watcher? Do you think that provides absolution? By that theory, you cannot be held responsible in any way for Faith's recent actions. No, we were all responsible. But in the final analysis, it was Faith who chose the dark path. It was Faith who committed murder, who terrorized Buffy, who tried to kill Angel and who almost killed you. Despite what you may think, Wesley, you did not create her. You are not and never have been God!"

Wesley turned to face him. "So, instead, I should hate her for what she did to me?"

"A part of you does, I'll wager. If you'll admit it."

Wesley dropped his eyes to the floor. "Yes."

"That's honest. And very human. But you also feel guilty every time you find yourself feeling anger toward her, am I right?"

Wesley sighed and nodded. "After... when Angel was trying to help her, all I could feel was the hatred. But he was right. She needed help. I couldn't see it then, I was too..."

"Hurt and angry, and I imagine feeling a little betrayed by Angel that he wasn't filled with rage against her on your behalf."

Wesley looked at him in amazement.

"I told you I understood." He placed a hand on Wesley's shoulder and led him to the sofa, sitting down beside him. "When Angel returned from hell, Buffy knew for some time and didn't tell anyone. She didn't tell me, and when I found out she had been hiding him from us, I felt betrayed. But Buffy didn't intend to hurt me. She was feeling her own guilt, and I finally came to understand that." He stepped closer to the younger man. "I don't believe Angel intended to hurt you by helping Faith."

"I know that. I know he only did what was right. He had to help her. That's what he does... who he is. And for all she did, Faith is a human being. She deserves the chance to find peace."

"And Angel had to trust that ultimately you would understand that. I'd say he has a lot of faith in you."

Wesley looked up in surprise.

"You said you trusted him. Well, you should trust him enough to talk to him about what you're feeling. He's worried about you, you know."

Wesley's mouth hung open in shock for several moments. "He called you? That's the real reason you came here."

Giles nodded. "It wasn't easy for him to ask for my help. But you wouldn't let him help you. You were obviously still suffering from what happened, and you wouldn't talk to him or to Cordelia. And I'm wondering why."

Wesley shook his head. "I-I thought I should be strong enough to handle it on my own. To accept what I had done, what had happened. It's not that I didn't trust them. I-I didn't want to hurt them."

"So you bottled it all up inside, causing yourself more pain. In the long run, you hurt them more."

Wesley squeezed his eyes closed. Giles went on gently. "That is also a very human thing. In all your years of watcher training, there's one thing you never learned, my young friend. To forgive yourself. I know from experience, it's a hard lesson to learn. But it's important that you remember, what you do to yourself affects the people who care about you."

"I'm afraid I haven't had much practice with that."

"What?"

"People who...." He shook his head.

Giles frowned. "Wesley, I want you to listen to me. When you first came to Sunnydale, you were the image of a textbook perfect watcher. You did everything exactly the way you were trained, and you trusted that the council's way was always the right way. You can't be faulted for that. The problem is, the council was wrong."

Wesley's eyes met his.

"You were dealing with very human, very emotional situations, and you hadn't been prepared for that. I should have seen it, but I was too busy wallowing in my own self-pity and resenting you for the audacity of trying to replace me with Buffy. To my own shame, I rather enjoyed seeing you fail."

"It wasn't your fault either," Wesley replied. "You were... only human?"

Giles smiled. "Oh, too true. But back to the point...."

Wesley smiled at the didactic tone in the former librarian's voice.

"You were put into a situation for which you were ill prepared. And you got precious little help or guidance. But you've proved an apt student. You learned. Even before you left Sunnydale. You stood with us, in defiance of the council, when we fought the mayor and his minions. And when the council released you from your duties, you still chose to continue to fight for what you knew was right."

"I might not have," Wesley admitted. "You remember when I was in hospital, you told me I didn't have to be a watcher to fight against evil."

Giles shrugged. "Yes, and I must thank you for proving me right. I suspect there's a lot of strength in that wiry frame of yours. I'm just sorry I didn't recognize it sooner."

Wesley sighed, his hand moving to his temple and massaging it.

Giles noticed the move. "All right. I've lectured you long enough. You're exhausted. What you need most right now is sleep."

"I..." Wesley looked up. "I've been having nightmares. I'm a little afraid to sleep."

Giles nodded. "I can't guarantee the nightmares are over, but I do know that they'll start to fade if you share your fears with the people who care about you."

"I'll try," Wesley reluctantly agreed.

"You should also try and remember that you're human and therefore subject to the same weaknesses as the rest of us. In any case, perfection is highly overrated."

Wesley gave him a tired smile. "Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome. Now, I want you to stretch out on this sofa for a little while. I'll sit here and make use of your library for a while. If you have any nightmares, I promise I'll awaken you."

Wesley squeezed his eyes closed against the pounding in his head.

"I'll get you some aspirin... if Angel has any around."

Wesley grinned. "Kitchen cabinet. I'm not sure he ever uses it, but we have to keep the giant economy size around for Cordelia after her visions."

Giles nodded and went to fetch the pills and a glass of water. When he had seen to it that Wesley had swallowed them, he settled himself in the chair near the couch and watched quietly as Wesley's breathing evened out. It didn't take long. Quietly he crept into the bedroom and returned with a quilt to cover the sleeping man. Then, he retrieved a musty volume from the bookcase and returned to his chair and resumed his vigil.

Not long after, a sound drew his attention toward the doorway, where he found Angel standing silently. Carefully he put down his book, rose and moved to join the vampire in the kitchen area.

"It got too quiet down here. We were worried." Angel explained. He nodded toward Wesley. "Is he all right?"

"I believe he will be."

"He talked to you then. About..."

"Faith and the torture?" He nodded. "And a few other things as well. I think it will be easier for him now. At least, I hope so."

"Thank you," Angel said with deep meaning. "For helping him."

"The strange thing is, I think it helped me as well," Giles admitted. "And I owe you an apology."

"You owe me?" Angel replied in amazement. "For what?"

"For that small seed of hatred I allowed to remain in my soul. Intellectually, I knew it wasn't you that...." He sighed. "It's harder for the heart to accept. I know you'd do anything to change what happened. The sad truth is, you can't. I don't hate you, Angel. Things may never be... easy between us, but I want you to know, I don't hate you."

"Thank you, Giles."

"Now, if you'll allow me to give you some advice?"

Angel shrugged.

"It's harder for Wesley to open up to you when you represent the perfect example of someone who holds all his pain inside. I know you've had centuries of practice doing just that, but occasionally, it would be helpful if you'd talk about things that trouble you, just a little. It will show those who care about you that you trust them. And it will make it easier for them to trust you."

"Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am," Giles replied with mock arrogance. "They do trust you, you know. I hope you appreciate how precious a gift that is."

Angel looked toward his sleeping friend. "Believe me, I do."

Giles followed his gaze. "I believe you."

A few hours later, Giles walked into his apartment to find Buffy waiting for him, and none too patiently.

"Where have you been? I've been here for hours."

"Is something wrong?"

She suddenly looked sheepish. "Well, not really. I just wanted to talk to you."

Giles smiled with contentment. "Then I'm here to listen."

Buffy's eyes narrowed at her watcher. "Not so fast. You didn't answer me. Where have you been all day?"

"Helping a friend... or two," he replied. "Just a little demon banishing."

The slayer offered him an inquisitive look.

Giles laughed at the expression. "Perhaps I'll tell you about it later. Now, what would you like to talk about?"

It was after sundown when Wesley awoke. The first thing he saw was Angel asleep in the chair opposite him that Giles had occupied before. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, another form moved into view. Cordelia, moving to place a blanket over Angel. The action woke the vampire.

"Sorry," Cordelia whispered.

"No, I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"I don't see why not. You may be dead, but you still need a few Zs once in a while."

"That's pretty good advice, I'd say."

His companions both started at Wesley's voice.

"You're awake!"

"Good call, Cordelia," he replied. "You have an unfailing grasp of the obvious."

"Okay, if you're going to be snippy, I'm going to leave." She started toward the stairs.

"No, don't," Wesley called, with an undisguised urgency in his voice. She stopped, turning back toward him, all the feigned annoyance of a moment earlier gone from her expression.

Wesley looked from Cordelia to Angel and could clearly see the concern and expectancy on both their faces. Giles had been right. He had people who cared about him. Which was a good thing, since he cared a great deal about them. And it was time he proved it. To them, and to himself.

"I think we need to talk... I need to talk, if you don't mind."

"Mind?" Cordelia lifted her hands in exasperation. "What took you so long?"

"Cordelia," Angel scolded gently.

"I guess I can be a little dense sometimes," Wesley admitted. "But I'll try to do better."

"We all will," Angel replied.

"And we're here to help," Cordelia smiled.

"Yes," Wesley looked at his two friends with gratitude. "I know you are."

Having made the decision, he wasn't sure where to begin. Suddenly, the room felt stuffy.

"You know, I'd like to get a little fresh air. Do you think we could go up on the roof? Oh, wait, it was raining and..." The word conjured up a momentary image from his nightmares, the real and the imagined. Standing in a downpour outside the apartment where he had been tortured as Angel cradled Faith in his arms. Running down a very similar alley in the pouring rain searching for someone he'd lost. Someone he now realized he hadn't lost after all.

"The rain stopped a little while ago," Angel told him and started for the stairs. Without a word, Cordelia linked arms with Wesley and followed.

"Looks like it might be a clear night for a change," Angel commented, looking up at the stars.

Cordelia, still holding Wesley's arm, took hold of Angel's as well. "Well, you know what that song says? It can't rain all the time."

Wesley felt himself start to relax. After a few moments of companionable silence, he started to talk. And in the clear air that followed the storm, his friends listened.