__All That You Can't Leave Behind__
By Hayley



Wesley's Apartment:


"Wes? Wesley! Open up!"

The door swung in, revealing Wesley with an empty overnight bag in his hand. "Angel, come in." He waved the vampire into the small apartment, turning back to the sofa where several days worth of clothing were stacked into neat piles. "There are a few things I wanted to go over with you before I left."

"Okay." Angel shoved his hands in his pockets. "Wanna start with where you're going? Or why you're going? Or I know. We can start with whatever happened between you and Cordelia- because frankly, she looks like an accident victim. And she's not talking either."

"It's really none of your concern Angel." Reaching for a manilla envelope on the coffee table, Wesley thrust it at the vampire. "This is the new deed to the hotel. I spoke with David Nabbit and he's bought it and put it in the company name. The next time attorneys from Wolfram and Hart show up asking to see the place, just show them that."

"I think it is my business." Angel replied firmly. "Especially if it sends you packing in a huff."

"Angel- I've considered you a friend for the past two years. And in that time I have done my best to respect your privacy… now I expect that same consideration in return."

“Wesley- we need you here. Maybe that's gone unsaid too much, but it's nothing less than the truth.”

“I won't be gone too long Angel. I'm not abandoning the fight. I do need some time away from the office. You can page me if anything urgent comes up.”


**


The Magic Box:


Wesley climbed off his bike and removed the heavy black helmet, half
expecting to look up and still see a very dark cloud hovering over his head. He'd hoped the long ride from Los Angeles to Sunnydale would improve his mood somewhat before he was forced to face Giles and the others, but obviously he was in fouler a mood than he thought. Bloody witch.

With a reluctant sigh, he pushed open the front door of the shop, noting the cheerful chimes above the door.

"Hello. Welcome to the Magic Box. We're here to serve all your occult
needs. If there's anything I can get for you, please let me know. My name is Anya."

Startled both by the appearance of the girl and her preternaturally perky demeanor, Wesley took a huge step back.

"Ayn, honey. What did we talk about? No accosting the customers."

"But Xander… if I don't approach them how will they know I expect them to take goods in exchange for cash?"

The lanky boy stepped forward and took hold of his girlfriend's hand. He cast a quick glance at Wesley, and then did a double take. "Wesley?"

"Hello Xander." Wesley answered mildly. He knew full well that his first impression with the residents of Sunnydale was less than stellar. Xander in particular had seen him as an obstacle to reconciliation with Cordelia.

Inwardly flinching, Wesley shoved all thoughts of Cordelia from his mind for the moment. "Is Giles in?"

"He went to pick Dawn up from school. What is it? Did Angel lose his soul again? Is the world ending again? Feel the urge to run and scream like a girl?" Satisfied that he'd made his point, Xander led Anya down the steps and back to the cash register.

"Sorry to disappoint you- but none of the above." Removing his riding
gloves and stuffing them in the pockets of his jacket, Wesley reached deep down inside himself for the wealth of patience he'd cultivated over the years. Trading barbs with Xander would accomplish nothing and exchanging blows was entirely out of the question. Deciding to kill a few minutes before seeking accommodations for his stay, Wesley ran his fingers along the spines of the rare books on the shelves noting several titles that he'd lost in the office explosion a little more than a year ago.

A brief inner struggle ensued, and coming to a decision, Wesley carefully plucked a dozen of the heavy texts off the shelves and settled them on the front counter. "I'll take these."

"Really! How wonderful!" Anya's face lit up. "These are all excellent
choices, well . . .with the exception of Neidmeyer's Anthologies, everyone knows Neidmeyer was a crackpot . . ." Anya blinked, and added quickly. "But very entertaining reading." Her fingers flew over the buttons of the cash register. "That'll be $3,595.76." She held out her hand. "Cash or credit?"

Digging into his wallet, Wesley removed a platinum card. "Credit."

"Can I interest you in any of our other unusual items?" Anya chirped
happily.

"No thank you. Just the books for the time being."

Before Anya could slide the credit card through the machine, Giles' voice stopped her.

"No Anya. Wrap the books please. Wesley's money is no good here." Stepping down into the main part of the shop followed by Buffy, Dawn, Tara and Willow, Giles considered Wesley thoughtfully. "I understand that you lost a portion of your library?"

"I can't accept these as a gift Giles- or even a loan." He nodded towards Anya, "Please ring them up."

"What are you doing back here anyway? Didn't you get fired?" Dawn
demanded, earning herself a sharp pinch from Willow. "OW! Well it's TRUE! I bet the Council sent him again because Buffy died!"

"Yes, I was fired, and no, the council didn't send me." Wesley could feel the beginnings of another migraine coming on. He was starting to remember why he preferred Los Angeles to Sunnydale -fewer 14 year olds in his life.

"I came to speak to you Giles, if you have a bit of time."

"Actually- I do." Giles nodded towards Anya. "Anya, please lock up at
five. Dawn, I believe you're spending the night with Willow and Tara?" At Dawn's nod, Giles smiled. "Very well then, I'll expect you all for breakfast tomorrow morning before school."

"Aww Giles---"

"Tomorrow morning for breakfast." Giles reiterated firmly. "And Buffy-you'll be patrolling?"

"First I need to hit the library, but once the sun goes down I'll do a sweep."

"Very well." Giles gestured to the front of the shop where Wesley's bike was parked. "You remember the way to Buffy's?"

"Yes."

"My car's in back, I'll meet you there."

Wesley pulled to a stop in front of the Summers home and stowed his helmet just as Giles was arriving in a red BMW.

"That's a nice machine. I had one of those myself about 15 years ago."

"It's gotten me across country a few times since I've had it." Wesley
replied following Giles up the front steps. "She has her quirks, but all in all it's a functional piece of machinery." He stood by as Giles opened the front door with a set of keys.

"These aren't really necessary, since Buffy's come back from the dead, most of the vampires and demons are too scared of her to confront her. They think she's immortal."

"Two deaths in a matter of years, one against the Master and now one
against a God, I can understand why they might not think the odds were in their favor." Wesley remarked wryly.

"True. Tea?"

"Yes, thank you." Once they were at the kitchen table, the civilized
routine of tea having been performed, Wesley turned his attention fully to the other Watcher. "Believe it or not I've come in goodwill." He removed his glasses and began to clean them. "I don't know if you were aware or not, but when Willow came to L.A to tell us of Buffy's death, Angel, Cordelia, Gunn and myself were just returning from another dimension and a planet named 'Pylea'. And while I was there several things occurred to me, one of which being that there has been pitiful little communication from either side. There was a very good chance that none of us were going to survive the trip TO Pylea, much less the events that occurred while we were stranded there. And should something have happened to us, there were
several loose ends no one had bothered to take care of."

Giles nodded slowly, immediately understanding the younger man's train of thought. "I understand. And I'm willing to claim my share of the responsibility for the silence on this side. The fact of the matter is that I still find dealing with Angel rather...distasteful, but that's no excuse. The business with Faith was very poorly done, and all I'll say in my own defense was that she did leave Sunnydale in one hell of a mess, giving no indication of any sort where she might be headed." He flinched suddenly. "Not that that's any excuse, which Cordelia pointed out to me rather loudly and profanely over the phone."

"Cordelia called you? About Faith?" In spite of his better intentions, Wesley was curious. She hadn't mentioned anything about calling Giles.

"Yes- tore a strip off of me up one side and down the other telling me that I was just as responsible for what Faith had done to you as Faith herself. And as horrible a Watcher as I might have thought you were at one time, at least you never endangered anyone's life out of apathy."

Wesley shuddered in sympathy. "Cordelia has a tendency to judge harshly-"

"Unfortunately that doesn't make her any less accurate." Giles replied, refilling Wesley's cup, as well as his own.

Clearing his throat, Wesley reached for the leather satchel on the chair next to him. "I've brought several items I think you need to look over. There's a scroll that I've been trying to translate fully, the scrolls of Azerbaijan to be precise, as well as several texts from Pylea. In return I'd like to hear about Adam, the Initiative, and most of all Glory, and how it is that Buffy came to be resurrected for a second time."

Giles blinked. "You obviously intend to be here for some time."

"You might say I'm on an extended leave of absence." Quietly he added. "Very extended."


* * *