========================

Wesley could hear a faint beeping noise coming from
somewhere above him. He ruled out the telephone,
alarm clock, and microwave as possible suspects. A
war was going on inside his head. Certain factions
wanted to investigate the infernal noise, while others
were intent on ignoring it. His inquisitive side won
out, and he regained consciousness. Now there was a
throbbing pain in his head, to go along with the
beeping. It was too late to go back now, so he
cautiously opened one eye. Everything was blurry. He
opened the other eye as well. <<Still blurry>> He
attempted to reach out for his glasses, and an all too
familiar sharp pain coursed through his arm. For one,
brief, terrifying moment, he thought he was back in
that awful apartment, being tortured by Faith. He
forced himself to remain calm, while he tried to
remember what had happened to him. A sudden movement
caught his eye, as someone came towards him. He
blinked a few times, and his vision improved enough
for him to recognize Detective Kate Lockley, standing
over him. She did not look pleased.

“So, you’re awake.”

“It would appear so, yes. Could you please tell me
what happened?”

“I was kinda hoping you could tell *me* that.”

Wesley dared to move his head and finally discovered
the source of the beeping. It was a monitor, hooked
up to him, registering his vital signs. “I’m in the
hospital?”

“Yeah, they brought you in last night. Don’t you
remember anything?”

“It’s all a bit of a blur,” Wes admitted. He
painfully pulled himself up into more of a sitting
position.
There was an I.V. needle stuck in his arm, and a
bandage on his left hand, but nothing appeared to be
broken, which was a good thing. His brow furrowed, as
his face was drawn into a thoughtful frown. He
struggled to get his brain to work. “I was at
Angel’s...”

Kate sneered slightly at his mentioning of that name.
“Go on,” she prodded.

“There was a bomb...I tried to get out in time...but
it went off.”

“Any idea what dirty dealings your boss had going on,
that would result in a bombing?”

“Now just a minute,” Angel’s ever loyal employee
protested. “Surely, you don’t mean to blame Angel for
the bombing of his own office. That was his home.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been reading up on ole Angelus, and
I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

Wesley was angry now. “He isn’t Angelus anymore.
He’s Angel - he’s got a soul.”

“Soul or no soul, doesn’t really matter to me, because
he’s dead.”

Wesley turned as white as the sheets covering him, and
lay back against the pillow. “What? He can’t
be...”

“Fire kills vampires, right?”

The stunned man nodded slowly. “He wasn’t there when
I got there. He must have...he must have come
in after me.”

Kate merely shrugged.

“Oh God! He came looking for me, and he...” Wesley
broke off, unable to finish the thought.

“I just thought you might be able to give me some
clues as to who might want to off your boss,” Kate
prompted him.

Wesley could only nod dumbly again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the hallway, outside the ex-Watcher’s room, a
figure emerged from the shadows. Gunn didn’t like
what he was hearing, and went off to locate Angel. He
found the vampire sitting beside the bed of a young
woman, holding her hand.

“Hey, Angel, thought I might find you here. There’s
some trouble going on with that other friend of
yours.”

Angel jumped to his feet, looking ready for a fight.
Gunn held up his hands. “Whoa, wait, not that kind
of trouble, man. There’s been some blonde chick
nosing around, flashing a badge. Your man woke up and
she’s in there giving him a rough time. She told him
you were dead. I didn’t think you’d be too happy
about that, so....”

“Thanks, Gunn.” Angel ran out of the room, heading
for the I.C.U.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t believe you,” Wesley was saying, stubbornly.

“You don’t see him here, do you? If he’s as ‘soulful’
as you say he is, why isn’t he here, worrying about
you? Now, why don’t you tell me what case you were
working on...”

“Nice try, Kate,” Angel snarled from the doorway.
Wesley’s face lit up, obviously relieved to see him.
“I think you’re done here. Why don’t you just leave?”

Kate looked peevishly at both men. Wesley returned
the look. “I knew it wasn’t true. You lied to me, to
get information,” he accused.

“I didn’t lie. He’s not exactly *alive*, is he? You
have to have a pulse for that.” Kate turned sharply
on
her heels, and marched out of the room. Angel looked
down at his associate, guiltily.

“How ya feeling? Glad to see you’re awake.”

Wesley was touched by the genuine concern on the
vampire’s face. He smiled at him warmly. “Oh, I’ve
been worse.” Then his face turned serious again. “We
lost everything, didn’t we?” His voice was soft. “She
had me worrying about you,” he added.

Angel frowned. “I’m just glad you’re okay...I was
just sitting with Cordelia...down the hall...”

“Oh God, Angel, she wasn’t in the building too, was
she? Was she badly hurt?”

“I forgot, I never got to tell you - something’s
wrong...in her head...I don’t know...I think a demon
is
involved, and I don’t know how much longer she can
take it. She’s in a coma.”

“What can I do to help? If only I had my books...”

“I’m going to see The Oracles. There has to be a way
I can help her.”

“Right, and I’ll go sit with Cordelia until you get
back.” Wesley brushed off the protest he could sense
was coming. “I can sit in a wheelchair just as easily
as I can sit here, and I’ll feel a great deal better
if I’m
with her. One of us should stay with her.”

Angel had no argument for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(several hours later)

“...Thou shalt find the sacred words of Anatole and
thou shalt be restored. - Three times shalt thou say
these words: unbind - unbind - unbind.”

With Wesley’s final translation from the scroll, there
came a blinding white light, and Cordelia had come
back to them. They shared a quiet moment together,
realizing how close they had come to losing each
other. Even after Cordelia had fallen asleep,
exhausted by all she had been through, all she had
witnessed, her two friends were loathe to leave her.
They sat on either side of her, holding her hands,
neither speaking, until Wesley abruptly jerked up in
his chair, alarmed by a thought.

“Angel, what day is it?”

Confused, the vamp replied, “It’s late Thursday night,
Wes. Why?”

“Faith...I was supposed to see Faith today.”

“Well, I think you were a little busy being
unconscious, Wesley. She’ll understand.”

“But, I haven’t missed a week since I started going
out there. What if she’s worried? What if...?”

“Wesley,” Angel cut him off. “It’s not like you two
are best pals or anything. I think you’re
overreacting.” His smile faded, as he saw how truly
worried his colleague looked. “Look, what do you want
*me* to do about it? Break in there in the middle of
the night to tell her you’re sorry?”

For an instant, it seemed that Wesley was considering
this. “Well...no....but, could you take me there
tomorrow?”

“Wes,” his boss began to chide. “One - you’ve just
been blown up, and you’re in the hospital. Two -
there’s that whole ‘chauffeur turning to dust’ thing.”

With his face set in a determined scowl, Wes
continued, “I’m feeling a great deal better now. I
wouldn’t be able to drive myself there yet,
though...they do have evening visiting hours on
Fridays...I...I *need* to go - I feel it. Please,
Angel, I can’t very well ask Cordelia to do it.”

Angel couldn’t resist the pleading look in the young
man’s eyes, especially when he looked so wounded -
literally.

“Oh...okay. But, if you pass out or something, I’m
not gonna carry you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(the next evening)

“Y’know, Mr. Stoic, this would have been easier if you
had accepted the wheelchair they offered, for a couple
of days at least.”

Wes smiled wanly, as he limped along, partially
supported by Angel. “You know as well as I, neither
my
flat nor Cordelia’s has wheelchair access, so what
would have been the point?”

“The point would be, you’re kinda heavy,” Angel
grunted.

The tall, bandaged man smiled sheepishly. “I hadn’t
realized just what a long walk it is to the visitors’
room. I do apologize.”

The vampire gave his associate a friendly ‘thwap’ on
the back of the head, and opened the door to their
destination. “Stop apologizing; you’re always
apologizing.”

“I’m sorry.”

A stern look was met with a wide grin, as they went
through the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith was already there, slumped unhappily in her
seat, small and vulnerable. Her eyes caught the
movement on the other side of the partition, and her
head snapped up sharply. Upon seeing Wesley, the
change in her demeanor was instantaneous. She leapt
up, and, it seemed to Angel, that she would have run
over to them, if she’d been allowed to.

Wesley pushed himself away from his supporter, and
managed to hobble over to Faith. She pressed the palm
of her hand up against the glass, and he matched it
with his, on the other side. Neither of them made an
immediate move to pick up the phone; they just stood
and smiled at one another.

Angel was spellbound by the apparent connection
between the two. <<When the hell did *that* happen?>>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re late!” Faith snapped, with a teasing glint in
her eye.

“I’ve had rather a run of bad luck lately.”

Concern returned to the girl’s eyes, as she motioned
to his bandages. “You okay?”

He tried to shrug it off. “It’s nothing....really.
I’m fine.”

“Fine?! You got blow up, Wesley! I wouldn’t call that
*nothing*” she reprimanded, angrily.

Wesley’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “H-h-how did
you know?”

Faith’s head hung down, as she mumbled, “I dreamed
it.” She looked up into his curious gaze.
“Somehow...I just ‘saw it’, y’know? Sounds pretty
crazy, huh.”

“On the contrary, there have been numerous documented
cases of Slayers having prophetic dreams. I know
Buffy has had them. It really is quite common. I’m
flattered you dreamed about me...”

“I thought you were dead.”

Wes was startled by the implied emotion behind her
words, flustered by it. “I - I...yes, well, in the
words of Paul McCartney: “News of my death has been
greatly exaggerated.”

“So,” Faith wanted to get off the subject. “Is
Brooding Soul Boy gonna just hover over there, in the
corner, the whole time you’re here?”

“Er...yes...I rather think that’s his plan, yes.”

With warmly exchanged smiles, the two fell into their
normal visiting mode, Faith leaning with her elbows
on the counter, chin in hands, as she listened to
Wesley spin his tales of what had been happening to
him since they’d last seen each other.

Angel just hovered in the corner, and watched.

==========================

"Good Lord, you can't be serious...No, of course I'm
pleased. Only...it's a bit unexpected...when do they
think it might happen?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes at Wesley, as he talked on
the phone. She was dying to know who he was talking
to. He waved her off with his hand, indicating for
her to hush.

"...What does he say about the charges in Sunnydale?
...uh huh...that would be a problem...Of course, I'll
see what I can do...yes, I'll let you know as soon as
I find out anything."

Wesley hung up the phone and turned an astounded face
towards the impatient girl.

"Well?! Spill your guts, Mr. Chatty. What's got you
suddenly speechless? - cause I want to bottle it for
future use."

"That was Faith." That shut her up, with a grimace.
"Her lawyer claims he found a legal loophole, and all
charges are going to be dropped."

Cordy's mouth fell open. "You're kidding me, right?
They're not actually gonna let Psycho Bitch back out
on the streets, are they?"

Wesley frowned sternly at her. "I've asked you not to
call her that, Cordelia. Faith *has* made a sincere
effort towards redeeming herself. You *know* that."

"Yeah, well, so *you* say," she grumbled. His new
found friendship with the Slayer still irked her.
"So, what was that about Sunnydale?"

"Ah, well, there's a problem. They may be able to
extradite her, for her crimes there; the murder of the
Deputy Mayor, specifically. At the moment, the
evidence is entirely circumstantial; it depends on
whether or not a key witness testifies or not."

"Oh, so who's the witness?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Giles' flat - several days later)

"You want me to do what? You want me to do *what*?!"
Buffy yelled, first at Wesley, then at Giles.

Both men instinctively took a step back, in unison,
away from the tiny fireball of anger.

"Now Buffy..." Wesley began, nervously.

"You shut up." She turned to Giles. "I can't believe
he actually talked you into this."

"Now Buffy..."

"Yeah, the Scarecrow already said that." The blonde
Slayer glowered at her two ex-Watchers, hands planted
firmly on her hips. "Let me get this straight. You
want me to forget that I saw Faith run a stake through
the Deputy Mayor, not to mention all the things she
did to me, my friends, and my family, just so she can
get out of jail and --what?--continue her homicidal
maniac-y ways across the country?"

"It's not like that, Buffy."

"Oh yeah, Wes? Go ahead and tell me what it's like,
'cause I'd really like to know."

"She's changed."

"Oh, she's *changed*." Sarcasm oozed from every pore.
"Well, that makes it all better then."

"Buffy," Giles jumped in, trying to help. "At one
point it was you who argued that Faith could be
reached, that we needed to help her."

"I *used* to think that - until she stole my body and
slept with my boyfriend."

"We are all guilty of something, Buffy." Wesley's
voice was soft. "None of us is immune; just look at
Angel..."

"Leave Angel out of this."

"I've read The Diaries, Buffy. I know how you helped
him. All I'm asking is for you to give Faith the same
consideration."

"Why you?"

"Pardon?"

"You never answered my question. Why are you helping
her?"

"W-we...I've been visiting her...we've become... well,
closer." Wesley had begun to wiggle uncomfortably
under her intense scrutiny.

"No, there's something else. (to Giles) What is he
trying not to tell me?"

"Oh...er...ah...what?"

"Okay guys, here's how this is gonna work. It's
called 'Let's Make A Deal'. I'll go along with your
plan, but only after you tell me what you're hiding."

The two gentlemen exchanged pointed looks, both
understanding the next move was Wesley's. Giles
discreetly removed himself from the room.

Buffy perched herself on the arm of Giles' sofa, as
Wesley paced back and forth in front of her.

"Buffy, sometimes things happen...things beyond our
control, and when these, er ... things ... happen, we
need to make decisions w-we normally wouldn't make."

"Wes?"

"Er, yes?"

"Could we get to the point of all this, before I'm in
the Old-Slayers' Home?"

"Yes, well, it's just that Faith...that is to say,
Faith and I...we're..."

"You're what? Getting married?" Buffy smiled at her
own joke.

"No, but we *are* having a baby."

Buffy's mouth formed a silent 'oh', and then she burst
out laughing. Wesley flinched involuntarily at the
sound.

"Yeah, right. That's a good one." She stopped
laughing. "You *are* kidding, right? Tell me you're
kidding."

"I'm deadly serious."

"You and Faith? Faith and *you*? That's pretty sick,
Wes."

Just then, Giles entered, carrying a tray laden with
tea for three. "Buffy," he hissed in her ear, as he
passed by. "Be nice."

Buffy ignored the warning. "I just can't believe you.
I don't even wanna know what twisted game Faith's been
playing with you, Wesley, but...having a baby with
her?! Faith is *so* the poster child for birth
control. And I thought you Watcher types were
supposed to be all precautionary and stuff."

"I'm well aware of your feelings towards Faith,
Buffy." Wesley replied coldly. "I'm not asking for
your approval."

Wesley's look of determination surprised Buffy. This
was not the same spineless Watcher who had let her
walk all over him last year. She turned towards
Giles.

"Giles, I thought Slayers were supposed to be off
limits to Watchers."

The older man sighed and removed his glasses, a sure
sign this was a topic he did not want to discuss with
her. "First of all, I said it was discouraged, not
forbidden; second, Wesley and Faith do not work for
the Council anymore; and third, it's really none of
our business."

"I'm beginning to get that. (to Wesley) I think you're
making a huge mistake, but there's no reason for you
to care what I think, is there? I'll keep my promise,
and you can get Faith outta jail...just be sure to
keep her away from me and mine. She comes near anyone
I care about, and - baby or no baby - she's going
down. Understand?"

"I understand." Wesley had to resist the sudden urge
to warn Buffy away from those *he* cared about too.

"Great. Now, if you don't mind, I don't think I'll be
staying for tea."

Giles walked Buffy to the door. "We *will* be talking
about this later, Giles." Buffy scowled at him."

Giles groaned inwardly, but managed a small smile.
"Yes, of course. Thank you, Buffy." He shut the door
behind her and turned to lean against it, relieved the
conversation was finally over with.

"Well, that went rather better than I thought it
would," Wesley remarked, only half-joking.

"That's easy for you to say. You're not going to have
to deal with Buffy on a regular basis, after this."

"No, I'm just going to have to live with Faith."

Both men looked at each other, wondering what they'd
gotten themselves into.

======================

(Lindsey McDonald's office)
"Yes Sir, it's all been taken care of, just as you asked...All charges against
the Slayer have been dropped. She'll be out tomorrow...Wyndham-Pryce did
exactly what you said he would...Yes, she'll be staying with him...Of
course...It's been a pleasure doing business with The Council, Mr. Travers.
Please, call on us again."

Lindsey swung his chair around, to find Lilah perched on the edge of his desk,
one leg swinging lazily back and forth.

"Eavesdropping again, Lilah? Really, that is so beneath you."

"What's the matter, Lindsey? Got something to hide?"

"From you, Lilah? Always. What can I do for you?"

"Rumor has it, you've been consorting with the enemy."

I prefer to think of it as a 'détente; we are, after all, fighting a common
foe."

Lilah was intrigued. "Angel?"

Lindsey grimaced, and looked down at the prosthesis that stood in place of his
hand, before plastering a stiff smile on his face. "Oh, he's going to get his,
believe me. I'm going to see to that myself. Actually, I was referring to our
favorite little 'Slayer Bitch From Hell'."

"Faith?! Oh, tell me more."

"Amazingly, it seems our little friend has people out there who hate her even
more than we do. The client wants to handle the details personally, but they
assure me she *will* be taken care of.

"And you're satisfied with that?"

Lindsey cocked one eyebrow, mouth quirked into a half-smile. "I guess you're
just going to have to wait and see."

======================

It was raining.

Not a hard rain, but the kind of drizzle that soaked you anyway. Wesley
hitched up the collar of his jacket, and peered at his watch. The face was
blurred by the wetness.

<<Will I ever be able to look at Faith, and not think of rain?>>

Two more minutes, and Faith was to be a free woman again. Was it the cool
breeze that suddenly caused the icy chill running down his spine? He decided
to pretend it was. The trusting had to begin some time. Minutes before
inviting Faith to become a guest in his home seemed to be as good a time as any.

Two more rotations of the second hand, then a third, and a fourth. The jittery
man shifted from foot to foot, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
Three more minutes, and a door opened to the side of the main prison gate. A
small, darkly clad figure came through, shielding her face from the unexpected
wetness. Wesley watched silently, as the girl put her hand down and threw her
head back, allowing the rain to hit her face and run down her neck. He was
struck by the beauty of what he was witnessing: Faith's uncensored, honest
reaction to freedom.

Faith saw her former Watcher ahead, and smiled nervously. The knapsack,
carrying all that remained of her earthly belongings, was slung over her
shoulder. She had walked 3/4 of the way over, before Wesley snapped into
polite 'British' mode.

"Sorry," Wesley murmured, after rushing up to the girl. He offered to take her
bag, but Faith pushed his hand away, casually.

"Nah, I got it." A beat, then, "Hi, Wes."

The lack of a glass barrier between them created an awkwardness neither had
expected. Wesley felt his mouth go dry, and he had no idea what to do with his
hands. Ever so slowly and tentatively, he reached out to put his arms around
Faith, as a sign of welcome and support. He was so hesitant, in fact - fearful
of possible rejection - that Faith had to laugh.

"I told you before; I don't bite." She wrapped her arms firmly around the slim
waist, in a platonic show of friendship. Wesley returned the hug, and froze.
He could feel the slight bulge of her tummy, pressing against him.

Faith released Wesley, and drew his hands to her stomach, for only the second
time ever. She felt him flinch, at the persistent kicking of his son or
daughter. Faith was already using words like 'she' and 'her', at least in her
own mind. A little girl would be nice - a future Slayer she could nurture and
teach. She knew that's what the Watchers Council probably thought too.

The two of them just stood there, letting the rain fall on them, sharing the
moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I just want to warn you, it's not much."

Faith rolled her eyes. "So you've told me, about five times. Look, I never
expected you to invite me to stay with you. I figured you guys would toss me a
couple of bucks for a room, but... I guess I just want to say 'thanks'."

Wesley unlocked his door and motioned Faith inside the tiny apartment.Faith
managed to resist the urge to say 'This is it?' He had warned her. "Good
think I travel light."

"I - I know it's small, and I've been looking for a bigger place, but with the
explosion and all....there just hasn't been alot of time, or money coming in."

"Relax, it's nice...very...homey," she reassured, as her eyes swept from the
bookshelves to the quaint furnishings, to the wall decorations. She scooted
over to the bed, bouncing down on it, testing its firmness. "So, who gets the
bed?" Her playful smile turned serious. "Or, are you expecting...I mean, are
we...?"

Wesley cursed himself, as he felt the usual red heat flushing his cheeks. "No,
no, nothing like that! God No!" Faith raised her eyebrows, in an 'oh really?'
look. "That is to say, I, uh..." He moved to the couch. "I've purchased a
hide-a-bed. I'll be fine here, and you can have the....bed." He felt weak and
slightly stressed, and they'd only been home five minutes. He thought of
Cordelia's reaction, when he had told her what he was planning to do.

"Are you completely *nuts*?! You're gonna let Psycho-B...- you know who - into
your home? Really, I thought you had more sense than that."

What other choice do I have, Cordelia?" Wes had retorted, rather testily. "It
*is* my job to protect her...to watch out for her." He'd bristled at
Cordelia's answering cackle.

"Yeah, right. It *was* your job...and she didn't listen to you then. What
makes you think she's going to now?" She had her arms folded defiantly across
her chest, watching him with an expectant twinkle in her eye.

Wesley had opened his mouth to reply, and had shut it again, when the words
deserted him. Seeing Cordy's self-satisfied smirk, he had finally declared,
"It will be different this time. She trusts me."

"Just don't expect me to roll out the 'welcome wagon'," Cordy had grumbled,
before turning on her heels and disappearing into the kitchen.

Sitting on the edge of his couch, watching Faith explore his meager
possessions, Wes had a deep sense of foreboding. What *was* he getting himself
into?

======================

(the next morning)

Cordelia made yet another pacing lap around her living room.

"Maybe I should call him."

Angel glanced up from his newspaper, unconcerned. "He'll *be* here, Cordelia.
He's just late."

"Yeah, that's just it. Wesley? Late? What if she stabbed him in his sleep?"
Cordy made a stabbing motion with her pen, for emphasis.

"Well, if she used one of those, I'd say the odds of his survival are in his
favor."

"Oh sure, you pick today to become a comedian. Just keep talking, Mr.
One-Single-Wooden-Pencil-Can-Turn-Me-To-Dust."

"This is a new side of you, Cordy. I've never seen you so protective of
Wesley before. Something you want to tell me?" he teased.

The girl stopped her pacing, and looked Angel dead in the eye. "Faith's
dangerous, Angel. She's going to hurt him - one way or another. I just don't
want to have to pick up the pieces."

Angel couldn't help thinking to himself, << Don't you? >>, as he returned to
his reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley rushed around his flat, searching for his other shoe, a teacup in one
hand, and his tie in the other. Faith had sat up in bed, and watched him
sleepily. She couldn't help smiling at the funny scene: Wesley, limping
around with one shoe on, struggling to get his tie around his neck with one
hand, while trying not to spill hot tea on himself, with the other. She leaned
forward and peeked under the bed, bending to retrieve the errant shoe.

"This what you're looking for?"

Wesley had just enough time to raise his head, as she sent the shoe sailing
across the room to him. "Gahhhh!" Quick reflexes prevented the teacup form
crashing to the floor, but not the liquid inside. "FAITH!" His stern face
only made her grin wider. Now Wesley was hopping on one foot, trying to put on
his shoe, while, at the same time, heading into the kitchen for a towel.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" His voice floated out from the other room.

"Wes, I think I can deal with being on my own. I've only been doing it my
whole life!"

"I just feel bad, leaving you like this, when you've only just arrived." He
came back in, completely dressed now, and looking very dapper, in his charcoal
grey trousers, and light grey button-down shirt; Faith couldn't help noticing.
"It's just that we're in the middle of a case and Angel needs me for daylight
recon...and...you're..." He looked embarrassed.

"I know....I'm not welcome at Cordy's. It's cool. I can deal."

Wesley fished in his back pocket, and brought out his wallet. He handed Faith
a small wad of notes. "Here, this is all I have. You'll need to get some
food. I haven't done any shopping for a while. And you'll want to get some
more clothes, I'm sure."

Their hands met, as he handed her the money. "Are you sure...?" Faith wasn't
even sure what she was really asking him.

"You're my responsibility. I promised I'd look out for you, and I will."

<<Responsibility?>> The word nagged at Faith, but this wasn't the time to get
into that argument, so she just shrugged, and shoved the money into her pants
pocket. "Cool, thanks."

"I really *must* go. I'm already late. You're sure you'll be fine?"

"GO!" she shooed at him. Wesley was at the door, when she added, in a
syrup-sweet voice, "Have a good day at work, *Sweetheart*."

The 'sweetheart' caught Wes off guard, and he misjudged the doorknob, smacking
face first into the door. "Oh, this day is going well so far, " he muttered,
without looking back at Faith. He already knew she was laughing. He slipped
out, without another word, slamming the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith mulled over what to do with her first day of freedom. She was sure not
going to sit around this shoebox all day. She flipped on the tv, and her eyes
widened, as the Playboy Channel came on. << Way to go, Wes! >> She flipped
through the channels, finally stopping on the cartoon network.

Faith's stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn't eaten since that burger
and fries Wes had bought her, on the way home, the night before. << HOME! >>
She padded into the kitchen, and opened the fridge: a carton of milk, a tin of
coffee, a few slices of old looking pizza, three bottles of imported ale, a
loaf of bread, and a tomato. Inspection of his cupboards revealed: a large
tin of loose-leaf tea, a smaller one of sugar, a box of chocolate donuts,
several cans of soup, some Rice-a-Roni, and a huge box of Peanut Butter Capt'n
Crunch. Grinning broadly, Faith pulled down the boxes of cereal and donuts.

"Looks like Daddy has a sweet tooth." She patted her stomach, lovingly. Soon,
she was settled in front of the tv again, munching on cereal, donuts, and
toast, while watching the Power Puff Girls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can take care of myself, Cordelia." The exasperation in Wesley's voice was
clear.

"All I'm saying is, if you're gonna be late - CALL."

"Yes, Mum." He hadn't really meant to say that loud enough for her to hear.

"What was that?" Her eyes were flashing.

"Might I remind you, that you were never exactly punctual yourself, before your
home became our office."

"Yeah, but I wasn't living with..." She trailed off, having revealed too much.

Wesley's expression softened as he realized the true meaning behind her
diatribe. "I'm sorry you were worried. I'll call next time, I promise."

"That's all I'm asking." Cordy retreated to her computer again.

Wesley turned his attention to Angel, who gave him a friendly wink. This day
was full of surprises. He joined his boss at the table, and their heads were
soon bent together, over a particularly crucial piece of evidence for their
latest case, all thoughts of Faith put aside for the moment.

==========================

Faith leaned back against the tree, watching the window. She'd found Wesley's
binoculars, while rummaging through his apartment, which made it easier
to...what, spy?

The Slayer had spent the past week exploring 'her' city, walking the streets at
night, getting a feel for what it was like out there. Angel kept Wesley
working late into the night, and he had yet to find out what she was up to.
Somehow, she didn't think he'd approve.

No matter where she went, inevitably she ended up here. There was always
someone willing to give a ride to a poor, pathetic, pregnant girl, who's car
had broken down. Faith smiled to herself, in the darkness. Back here, in the
courtyard behind the apartment building, the city lights were muted, allowing
her to feel comfortable, tucked into a shadow. A movement at the window caught
the girl's attention, and she raised the glasses to her eyes. It was Wesley,
standing with his back to the window, a book in one hand, as he gestured wildly
with the other. She didn't need to hear him to know he was undoubtedly giving
the others a lecture on some demon or other, and a rather animated one at that.


Faith told herself she only came here out of curiosity, and to see if her
roommate was still working. She didn't want to admit to the feeling of being
left out. When Wesley had first managed to stammer that Cordelia did not feel
comfortable having Faith at her apartment - and who could blame her - she'd
just shrugged and said "whatever". It gave her time to 'do her thing', and get
used to being out in the world again. She figured that not having to deal with
Wes being under foot all the time would make it easier to live with him, which
it did. Faith hadn't counted on missing him. She thought she'd left all those
feelings of being an outsider back in Sunnydale, with B' and her Scoobies, but,
here they were again. She was a Slayer, dammit. Surely, Angel could use her
help.

Faith's thoughts were gratefully interrupted by the sound of a door opening.
She shrank back behind the tree, and watched, as a young black man emerged,
heading for his truck, in the alley. She'd seen him there before, figuring he
must be a neighbor of Cordelia's. Suddenly, the door opened again, and Cordy
hurried out, heading for the man.

"Gunn, wait! Angel says to take this with you."

Faith was stunned, as she watched the brunette thrust something at...Gunn?
Angel? This guy worked for Angel? They'd let someone else into their
exclusive demon fighting club? Without pausing to think further, the girl
slipped back into the darkness, to the pickup truck parked there, and secreted
herself in the back. Faith was going to find out just who this guy was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(15 minutes later)

Angel peered around, looking to see where Cordelia was. After locating her in
the kitchen, fixing a snack for her and Wes, the vamp leaned in towards the
researcher, speaking low.

"So, how are things going...at home?" The two men had agreed not to discuss
Faith in Cordy's presence.

Wesley leaned back, legs crossed, hands folded together over his knee,
considering the question. Angel couldn't help but allow a slight grin to grace
his lips. Wesley tended to respond to all questions with equal serious
consideration, and, undoubtedly, he'd reacted much the same way, when Cordy had
asked him what he wanted on his sandwich.

"All things considered," Wes began, slowly. "....it's going well. It can be a
bit awkward, of course. My flat really isn't meant for two...not that I'm
complaining, you understand." Seeing Angel's amusement, Wes smiled weakly. "A
simple 'fine' would have been enough, I suppose."

"No, I really want to know. I mean, you're my...you work for me...and you're
my... friend...and I still can't help feeling somewhat responsible for Faith.
I want you to tell me, if you're ever having trouble, or need help."

Wesley nodded slowly, having been slightly distracted by Angel referring to him
as his 'friend'. He was still getting used to these warm feelings of
contentment, and to being part of a family.

"Wes?"

"Sorry, I wandered off for a moment." The younger man smiled, shyly.

"That's okay. So, no problems?"

"To tell you the truth, I haven't seen Faith all that much. She's usually
asleep when I leave, and I'm so tired when I get home that I go right to bed."
Wesley turned a serious face to his employer now. "I am a bit worried about
leaving her alone so much. I have no idea how she spends her days. When I ask
her, she just shrugs and says 'not much'. She's bound to get bored..."

"...and a bored Faith could be dangerous," Angel finished the thought.

"Exactly."

Angel ran his hand through his hair. "I've been worrying about that too. I
mean, it's not like she's going to get a regular job somewhere. I just can't
see her selling women's clothing on Rodeo Drive..."

"...or working in a hair salon.."

"Maybe she could be a greeter at Walmart."

Cordelia returned, two plates filled with sandwiches and chips in hand.

"What did I miss? Why are you two laughing so hard? C'mon, share the joke!"

Angel was actually wiping tears from his eyes. Wesley composed himself, and
took the plates form Cordelia. "I'm sorry, Cordelia. It's sort of a...guy
thing."

"Well, *you* got the joke," she snapped.

Angel tried to help. "It was one of those things where you had to be there,
Cordy. I really don't think you'd find it funny."

"Dennis, would I think it was funny?!"

The ghost thumped the wall twice, for no.

"Well....if *you* say so," the girl grumbled. "I can't leave you two alone for
a minute. Next time you can get your own food, Secret Joke Boy."

Wes lay a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, removing it quickly at the
menacing glare she flashed at him. Instead, he picked up his sandwich and
moved a little further down the couch, out of range.

Angel's face had returned to it's normal bland expression, after a final smile
at the resident seer, and he picked up his book again. He would have to find
time soon, to have a serious talk with Wes, about Faith, before things got out
of hand. At least they knew where she was, and that she was staying out of
trouble, for the moment.

==========================

The truck finally stopped moving. Faith had been watching the road from her
vantage point, and hadn't really been surprised to see the neighborhoods
becoming increasingly run down, the further they went. The area they were in
now could probably be described as the 'bad part of town', although she was
sure there were many of those. An abrupt honk of the truck horn startled her.
She could hear the sound of a garage door opening, and she soon found herself
enveloped in darkness, as the truck headed inside.

Faith could sense, rather than see, that she and Gunn were not alone, but she
didn't sense danger. Gunn swung down out of the cab, and gave a strange
whistle. It must have been a code of some kind, because a light came on, and
the young man was suddenly surrounded by a horde of...children? Well, mostly
teens and young adults about her age, certainly no one much older. They all
appeared to be armed with an odd array of homemade weapons. And she could make
out sharp pieces of wood. Stakes? If Gunn worked for Angel, then that was a
possibility. The girl was so intrigued by it all, that she forgot to sneak
from her hiding place.

"Okay, guys. There's food and supplies in the back. Let's get it unloaded, so
we can get some supper on."

A few of the young men jumped up into the truck bed and began passing boxes
down to the others. There was nothing for Faith to do, except stand
nonchalantly, and hope no one tried to stake her. She really didn't want to
hurt anyone.

"What the....? Gunn, there's someone back here." Faith found herself
surrounded by axes, knives, stakes, and a few crosses, but no one made a move
closer to her. They'd been trained well, and Gunn appeared to be the leader.

Gunn pushed his way through the crowd, eyeing her suspiciously. Faith pulled
herself up, as tall as her five foot frame would allow, exuding confidence,
trying to appear casual, keeping eye contact with the much taller man.

"What are you doing here? Something I can *do* for you?"

"You're Gunn, right? I hear you like to rumble with vamps, and I thought maybe
you could use my services." She was, of course, guessing, but she was sure she
was on the right track.

A few snickers swept through the group, but Gunn's face remained stone cold.
He reminded Faith of Angel, all of a sudden....if Angel were a twenty year old,
bald, black man, that is.

"And I should believe you, because.....?"

"She's probably one of them, Gunn," a voice piped up, followed by a chorus of
"yeahs".

Without removing her eyes from Gunn's, Faith held out her hand, to the girl
holding a cross, standing nearby. Gunn nodded slightly, and the girl handed
the cross to Faith, who held it tightly, over her head, so they could all see.

"Satisfied?"

"So, you're not a vamp. That doesn't mean we can trust you."

"Do I really *look* like a threat?" Faith held out her arms, as if to have him
inspect her.

Gunn scratched at his chin with the end of a stake, and looked her over. "Not
really, but then, what makes you think you can help us?"

With lightening speed, Faith grabbed a tall, muscular boy to her right, sending
him sprawling to the ground, his own weapon now hovering less than an inch
from his throat. Gunn held up his hands, to stop the others from moving.
Faith looked up, from her vantage point on the boy's chest.

"Looks can be deceiving." She releases her victim, tossing his knife back to
him. Adrenaline was flowing in her veins, and it felt so good, so natural.
She was suddenly aching to find a vamp to pummel.

Gunn couldn't help looking impressed. "How'd you learn to move so fast?"

"Long story...but I"m sure I could help you...learn a thing or two."

"Ya need a place to stay? It's not much, but we watch each others' backs."

Faith thought hard about this. It was tempting. This was a lifestyle she was
familiar with. She could live on the front lines again, getting off on the
danger, always on the edge. She could see herself belonging here. But, how
long before the 'others' found out? If Gunn worked with Angel regularly, he'd
be sure to mention his new recruit eventually. And there was Wesley. She
wasn't sure she could just leave him like that, after all he'd done for her.
Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach. She had more to think about than
herself. She wasn't about to give up slaying - that was her life - but she had
her baby to keep healthy and safe now.

"Nah, I've got my own crib, but thanks. How about you give me the grand tour,
and you can tell me all about your operation."

Gunn smiled, and indicated she should follow him, and the whole group headed
into the bowels of the dark building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley slumped through the door, dropping his keys onto the little table just
inside the door. It began to dawn on him that it was unusually dark in there.
Even the TV was quiet. Could Faith be asleep already? He hesitated before
flipping the light switch, not wanting to wake her, if she was. But he had to
see what he was doing, so he switched it on. There was no sign of the girl.

"Faith?" She wasn't in the kitchen. He went to the bathroom door, knocking
gently. "Faith?" The door swung open, no answer. There was nowhere else for
her to be, but Wesley's tired brain hadn't quite grasped the obvious yet. She
wasn't there...not *anywhere*. It was 1a.m., and Faith wasn't home. Where was
she?!

Anxiety began to creep through the man's frozen form, as he tried to figure out
what to do next. Call Angel? And say what? She'd been kidnapped? Unlikely -
there was no sign of a struggle. Ran away? Wesley poked around, and reassured
himself that Faith's belongings were all still there. She could have just gone
out for a hamburger or something. L.A. never really slept. But it was 1a.m.,
and Wesley was worried. He had just picked up the phone, to call Angel anyway,
when he heard a key in the lock, followed by a muffled 'shit', perhaps at
finding the door already unlocked.

Faith slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind her, and mustered her
most innocent expression, as she turned to face her former Watcher. A
spectacular variety of expressions flitted across his face, before he settled
on blind fury.

"Where the *hell* have you been?!" He might as well have added "young lady"
onto it, so 'fatherly' was his tone. He hadn't meant to shout. It just came
out that way, and the girl's response was oh so predictable.

"What makes you think its any of your fucking business where I've been?" Faith
stormed back, eyes flashing, hands on hips.

"My business? It bloody well *is* my business. You're my Slayer...my
responsibility..."

Things had been going so well, up until now, but this confrontation had been
inevitable, they both had to know that.

"Okay, I've been meaning to bring that up." Faith moved closer, until she was
inches from Wesley. She wished she were taller, so she could get in his face.
Seeing the chair behind him, Faith gave Wes a shove, sending him tumbling into
it. That was better.

"No one is responsible for me, but *me*. I'm going to do what I want, when I
want, and no one is gonna stop me. You can go crying to Angel if you want, but
it won't make any difference." She knew she was being harsh, but she had to
make her stand, before they tried to control her. "Look, I appreciate you
giving me a place to stay, I really do, but if you think that means I have to
listen to you, and do whatever you say, then I'm outta here. You got me? I
don't *need* you."

Wesley had gone pale. "A place to stay? That's all....? I thought...I
mean...I was...you don't..?" He stopped trying to talk, after that, and just
looked lost.

Faith had missed something, she could see that, but had no idea what Wesley was
failing to say. She could feel him closing off from her, as clearly as if he'd
shut a real door between the two of them. She wanted to grab him by the
shoulders, and shake him, but she wasn't any better at this sort of thing than
he was. Instead, she turned her back on him, and headed for the bathroom, to
change for bed. She came back out to find the man still hadn't moved. Faith
hesitated, torn between still being angry at him, for trying to boss her
around, and wanting to ask him why he was so obviously upset. In the end, she
just turned off the light, curling up under the covers on the bed, and lay
there in the dark, listening to Wesley breathe.

* * * * *

Angel could feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull without even
looking up.

"What can I do for you, Cordelia?"

"What makes you think I want anything? Maybe I just want to say 'Hi'."

"Cordy, I've been here all day, and you just *now* feel the need to say 'Hi'?
What do you want?"

The girl came around to face him, twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands,
hesitant to say what she'd come to say. Angel raised his eyes, patiently, to
meet hers, and waited.

"Okay..." She sat down next to him, conspiratorially whispering all of a
sudden. "He's been like this for three days, and *someone* is going to have to
tell him to snap out of it."

"Who?" Sometimes - no, make that almost all the time - Angel had trouble
following Cordy's leaps in conversation.

"Wesley!" The 'well, duh' was unspoken, but universally understood. Cordelia
stopped, as Wes looked up, upon hearing his name. When no one spoke to him, he
returned to his project. Humoring his connection to the Powers That Be, Angel
lowered his tone to match Cordy's.

"What about Wesley? He seems fine to me."

The spirited brunette gave him a light whack on the shoulder. "Of course *you*
would think so - Reigning Champion Of the Brooding World Cup. He's been too
quiet. I insult him and he just sits there and takes it. It's not natural!"

"Cordelia, this is serious!" He leaned closer, as if to share a secret with
her. "Maybe Wesley has finally grown up and he's ignoring you."

The girl's brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Alright, Buster. I recognize
vampire sarcasm when I hear it. I'm telling you, something's wrong, and I
guarantee you it's got something to do with....*her*. You mark my words."

"'Mark my words'? You stayed up all night watching that suspense film festival
on AMC again, didn't you? Look, if you're so worried about him, why don't
*you* talk to him?"

"Because, for some reason, he doesn't listen to me. Besides, this is a *guy*
thing...and you used to be a guy, so...."

"What do you mean - 'used to be'?!" he protested. (calling over to Wes)"Hey,
Wes. Is there anything bothering you that you'd like to talk about?"

Wesley was folded up, like an accordion, in one of Cordelia's deep, cushioned
chairs, long arms and legs tucked impossibly inside, a book and a spiral
notebook balanced on his knees. His head raised a fraction of an inch, upon
hearing Angel, but his eyes never left his reading.

"Not especially, Angel, no."

The vampire shrugged at Cordy. "There ya go." She rolled her eyes and threw up
her hands.

"Men! I give up." She grabbed her head, as a vision shook her, and books were
tossed aside, as the men raced to her aid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No WAY!"

"Awwww, c'mon, Gunn. You know I can fight, and you already said you could use
me."

Gunn kept walking, trying to get far ahead of the mini-dynamo trailing at his
heels. "Yeah, well, that was before I knew you were....you know."

"What's the matter, Tough Guy? Can't say it?" Faith teased, mercilessly.
"Preg-nant. It's not a dirty word, y'know."

Gunn stopped in his tracks, whirling on the girl, suddenly, taking her by
surprise. "I don't care what kind of word it is...you ain't coming. It's too
dangerous."

"Give me a break! I already told you...I'm not like other girls. I can handle
myself in a fight."

I know...you're the...killer?"

"Slayer. I'm The Slayer. I got these powers, y'know. I'm stronger, and I heal
faster..."

"...and you can leap tall buildings in a single bound. Sure. Whatever." He
shrugged.

"Let's go at it...you and me, one on one. If I win, I come with you. If you
win, I don't ask you again." She danced in a circle around him, fists up, a la
Muhammad Ali.

"You're crazy. I ain't fightin' no pregnant girl."

Seeing she was not going to win this argument, Faith changed tactics. "Okay,
no fighting, but...you're looking for vamps, right?"

"Yeaaaah," Gunn replied slowly.

"I can sense 'em, sniff 'em out...how about if I come with ya, just to help you
locate 'em, and then I'll let you be the Big Bad Boy who does all the
fighting." She batted her eyes at him, in her flirtiest manner.

Gunn was skeptical, but he did want to find that nasty vamp nest before
sunrise, so he could get some sleep. Against his better judgment, he finally
relented. "Alright....but once we find them, you get out of the way."

"Scouts honor." Faith grinned wickedly up at him, delighted to be on the hunt
again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley sat quietly in the passenger seat of Angel's convertible, eyes trained
on the dark alleyway across the street. His eyelids were drooping, as he
failed to stifle a deep yawn. He glanced sideways, at Angel, who sat idly
drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, listening to some private tune in
his head.

"You don't have to stay, Wesley, if you're too tired."

"No!" Wes was almost too quick to answer. "I...I mean, we're a team, and I'm
not going to leave you here without backup. Besides," He grinned at his
companion. "I like getting into the thick of the fray, kicking some 'demon
butt', as Cordelia so charmingly puts it. It's exhilarating...I suppose that
sounds silly to you."

Angel's eyebrows shot up. "No, not really. I can relate. Of course, there's
nothing too exhilarating about sitting and waiting." He couldn't sit still,
itching for the action to begin. His demon was edgy tonight - as it usually
was when danger was imminent.

"...It's never going to happen, is it?"

"Huh?" Deep in his own thoughts, Angel had lost track of what Wesley was
talking about. "Cordy's visions are usually pretty reliable."

"All that training, all those years of pain and sacrifice, and it was all for
nothing."

Obviously, he and Wesley were not on the same page. "Training?"

Wesley was about to reply, when Angel held up his hand, signaling for silence.
He cocked his head, and then pointed across the street, indicating for his
associate to follow him. They made their way to the alley, and could hear a
scuffle going on. Rounding the corner, they suddenly came face to face with a
group of five menacing vampires, who were busy harassing a pair of unlucky
working girls, who had had the misfortune of plying their trade on the wrong
street corner.

With a nod to his partner, Angel hefted his sword. Wes made sure his crossbow
was loaded and ready, and armed himself with a stake. The vamps, sensing their
presence, forgot their meal, and lunged at the pair of demon hunters, and the
battle began. Wes was the first to score, as he aimed carefully, shooting a
wooden-tipped crossbow bolt dead center into the nearest vamp's chest, sending
up a shower of dust, that caught mystically in the breeze, before floating
softly down around them all. Angel was grappling with a particularly nasty
brute, receiving a hard right hook to the chin, before regaining his balance,
and kicking his foe's legs out from under him. Down came the sword, separating
the big ugly head from the rest of it's big ugly body.

The three remaining vamps circled around, momentarily keeping their distance,
sizing up their opponents. Angel and Wesley found themselves back to back,
their weapons held out before them, as a warning. Angel grinned over his
shoulder at Wes.

"How ya doing?"

"Angel....I have a confession to make. I lied to you earlier."

"Uh...you *don't* find this exhilarating?"

"No, no. Earlier today, when you asked me...I'm afraid I wasn't entirely
forthcoming with you. There *is* something bothering me."

Angel took a swipe at a vamp that got too close. [And you feel the need to
tell me this now because....] "Oh, what the hell," he muttered under his
breath, before speaking directly to Wesley. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
[Yeah, that's me: Vampire With A Soul...Former Scourge Of Europe...Demon
Hunter...Private Eye...Therapist.] Angel lunged out and grabbed at the shirt
front of the closest enemy. The spring loaded stake inside his sleeve
released...POOF, no more evil-doer.

Another of their undead attackers came at Wesley, catching him on the shoulder,
and sending him reeling. Angel reached down and offered his friend a hand up,
swinging him rather gracefully towards his attacker. Wesley jammed his stake
home, with a self-satisfied smirk, and looked around. The fifth vampire seemed
to have vanished. Wes leaned over, hands on his knees, as he tried to catch
his breath. Angel was busy cleaning his sword, as Wesley looked up at him.

"I've been fooling myself....seeing something that isn't really there."

Angel marveled at Wesley's determined one-track mind. When this boy wanted to
talk, he didn't let anything stand in his way. "And that would be....?" he
prompted.

"I don't have any more control over her than I did before. She won't listen to
me...does what she pleases. She doesn't need me; she's *never* needed me."

[Faith] Angel thought hard about this, as they headed back towards the car.
Without warning, he stopped, whipped around, and sent his other spring-loaded
stake into the heart of the missing vampire, who had been creeping noiselessly
up behind them. Wesley removed his glasses, to wipe the offending dust from
them, sighed wearily, and climbed back into the passenger seat. Angel, shook
off his coat, and slid in behind the steering wheel.

"Here's what I think..."

Wesley jumped a bit, at Angel's abrupt continuation of the conversation. "Yes?"

"Faith still sees the 'old you'. She's never going to listen to you until you
show her the 'new you'."

"The *new* me?"

"Yeah, you know...the 'I've Been Stabbed, Beaten, and Blown-Up And I've
Survived It All' Guy. The one that *makes* people listen to you."

"People listen to me?"

"Sure. *I* listen to you." [I'm going to start charging by the hour for this
stuff.] "You and Faith...you're just falling into old patterns. You need to
break the cycle."

The ex-Watcher was staring at him now, eyes wide, mouth agape. If Angel could
have blushed, he would have been beet red.

"What? Cordelia watches alot of Oprah," he defended himself, rather sheepishly.

"Yes, well..." Not knowing what to say to this, the young man lapsed into
silence, as Angel pulled away from the curb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(meanwhile)

"Oh, I can't believe I actually let you talk me into that!"

"We found the nest, didn't we?" Faith merely shrugged, looking out the truck
window, at the city lights flying by.

"Yeah, but you promised you weren't gonna fight," Gunn accused.

"I told you I could handle it."

"They took you down."

"Only for a second....so I'm a little rusty. It's been awhile."

"I still think I should take you back to my place, so we can look at that
shoulder. It looks nasty."

"I'm *fine*," Faith snapped. "I heal quickly....it's just a scratch."

Gunn wasn't sure if he believed her. True, he didn't know Faith very well, but
he was good at reading people, and she seemed like the type to hide her real
feelings. He knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of her tonight,
however, so he kept his mouth shut. He pulled the truck up to a nondescript
apartment building.

"This it?"

Faith nodded, and opened the door, sliding carefully to the ground. "Yeah,
thanks....I'll be seein' ya."

"Not if I see you first." He flashed her a friendly grin. She reminded him a
little of his sister, which both pleased him and saddened him.

Faith watched, until the truck was out of sight, before turning and heading the
other way, towards Wesley's place...towards home.

==========================

Angel pulled up outside Wesley's apartment building, and sat back, looking hard
at his friend, until Wesley began to squirm under the scrutiny.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Feeling the younger man bristle beside him,
he quickly amended, "I mean...after everything Faith put you through, you can
still...*want* to help her?"

Wesley sucked in a breath, and released it very slowly, as if he were gathering
his thoughts.

"I feel a sense of responsibility....it's hard to explain. I suppose it's
ingrained in me - protect the Slayer at all costs. It doesn't matter that I
don't work for the Council...it doesn't even matter what she's done. Blame
won't change anything, and hating her doesn't make me feel any better....And,
there is the child to consider...

"You've thought alot about this."

"Yes."

"You're still angry with her."

"Yes."

"And you're going to help her anyway."

"Yes."

"Wow."

Wesley was almost amused by Angel's attitude, considering how many people -
including himself - had been willing to forgive the vampire his own horrific
misdeeds, but he was tired, and really didn't want to dwell on this topic any
longer, so, with a sigh, he bade his employer goodnight, slung his satchel over
one shoulder, and headed inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley stood at the bottom of the staircase, gazing upward, gauging tonight's
mountain of stairs: not Mt. Everest, he decided, but at least Mt. Rainier. His
shoes made a loud clumping noise on the creaky wood, and bits of vamp dust kept
flecking off his coat, like a severe case of dandruff. Exactly 38 stairs
later, and he stood outside his door, pausing, as he did every night, steeling
himself for that split second of panic he always felt, when faced with the
prospect of Faith being on the other side of that door. His rational mind told
him there was no reason for the Slayer to want to savagely torture him again,
but there was no avoiding that brief moment of terror, all the same. A deep
breath, the click of the key in the lock, a turn of the doorknob, and he was
safely inside.

The lights were on, but the room was empty. Faith's jacket lay in the middle
of the floor in a heap, and Wesley had just bent over to retrieve it, when he
heard a groan, followed by some creative cursing. He quickly dropped his bag,
and the coat, and followed the voice into the bathroom.

Faith was standing in front of the mirror, her shirt off - revealing a black
tank top - with a sink full of crimson stained water in front of her. She was
trying to dab at a nasty gash, that started at her shoulder, and ran several
inches down her back.

"My God, Faith, are you alright?" Wesley rushed over, but stopped just short
of actually touching her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Wes. It's just a scratch...ya ever heard of knocking?"

Wesley felt his stomach flip nauseating inside out, and he had to swallow hard
at the lump wedged in his throat. He made no further moves, nor did he say
anything else. Finally, Faith looked over at her shoulder at him.

"I got into a little tangle with some vamps. No big." (a beat) "What? No
'How dare you're 'I forbid you...'?"

"When has that ever done me any good?" Wesley replied, softly.

Faith turned all the way around to face him now, her look incredulous and
mocking. Seeing he meant what he said, her expression slowly changed to one of
confusion.

"Are you going to let me help you tend to that? You might need stitching."

"I can manage, thanks." Her protest was rather weak, by Faith's standards.

"Faith...you're hardly in the position to be able to patch up your own back. I
do have extensive first aid training, you know." He bent down to retrieve his
first aid kit from below the sink.

Faith hesitated for a moment more, but she couldn't see any ulterior motive in
Wesley's offer, and the wound was bothering her, so she finally relented,
allowing him to guide her into the other room, over to a spot on the floor in
front of the sofa.

"Okay, but if you think I'm gonna let you go all 'Betsy Ross' on me, you are
*so* wrong."

Wesley ignored her, sat down behind her, and began to gently probe the jagged
cut with his fingers. Faith winced in spite of herself.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He kept his voice neutral, and didn't
sound particularly sorry to Faith.

"Yeah, I'll just bet you are," she grumbled under her breath.

"The good news is, it won't require stitches..."

"And I bet you're all broken up about that."

"...but, even with your quick healing, you should try to use your arm as little
as possible for the next 24 hours."

While Wesley began the process of disinfecting and bandaging, Faith closed her
eyes and tried to relax. The gentle man's touch on her back, as he worked,
felt like a feather being brushed along her sensitive skin. It had been over
two years since her first Watcher had been killed, and no one since then had
touched her this tenderly, for any reason. She was nearly overwhelmed by the
sudden need to have someone's warm arms wrapped around her - not for sex, but
to comfort.

The Slayer tried to shake such weak thoughts from her mind. This was *Wesley*
after all - 'Princess Margaret' - the guy voted Most Likely To Annoy. He
wasn't supposed to be comforting...was he? Faith pressed back, until the bones
of Wesley's knees dug into her back.

"Faith...please. Hold still."

Ah, there was that Watcher tone. "I'm sorry," Faith whispered.

"It's alright. I'm almost done."

"No, I mean *I'm sorry*."

Wesley's hand froze in midair. His voice was cautious. "For...what?"

"For being such a pain in the ass..for making you worry so much."

There was silence behind her, and Faith was beginning to think he wasn't going
to say anything in response. She turned around to face him, studying his deep
frown and serious eyes. He looked down at her, without a single hint of a
smile.

"Faith...I've come to a decision, and I'd like you to hear what I have to
say...please." When she didn't answer, he continued. "I'm not going to try to
tell you what to do anymore. We both know you wouldn't listen anyway, and it
just leads to hard feelings. We don't have to like each other...." Faith
opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. "No, let me finish. We
don't have to like each other, but we do have to get along. We share a small
living space, and, in a few months time, we're going to be sharing a child."

Wesley paused to remove his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes before replacing
them. "All I ask is, if you decide to continue with your current behavior, and
you're willing to risk the life of our baby, that you tell me now...so I can
prepare myself for the worst." Faith jerked away from him, horrified by what
he'd just said. She jumped up, and paced nervously to the other side of the
room, where she found one of her shirts, and eased it on.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to the baby, Wesley...no matter what." Her
back was to him, but he could still see her hand was resting protectively on
the small bulge of her tummy. What she thought, but didn't say out loud, was:
[She's mine, and nothing is going to take her away from me.]

"I hope so, Faith, because I'm trusting you."

She whirled around, to face him again. "Are you kicking me out? Cause I'll
get out of your face, if that's what you want."

It was Wesley's turned to be startled. "N-no...I never said that. And I'm
still going to be here for you....if you ever decide you need me, that is."
His voice was gruff, and he was fighting the desire to run away, to avoid
talking about this anymore. It was upsetting and uncomfortable. He stood up
quickly and headed for the door, before Faith could say anything more. "If you
don't mind, suddenly I'm not very tired. I think I'm going to go for a walk.
Don't wait up." He grabbed his coat, and rushed out the door.

Faith watched her roommate leave, and then wandered over to the couch. She
smiled down at her stomach, a glint in her eye. "He says he trusts me." There
was surprise in her voice, as she thought about this. "That's cool."

Wesley had made it as far as the stairs, before slumping down, and leaning
against the wall, exhausted. He hoped he had made the right decision. Maybe,
by allowing Faith a little trust, she would learn to trust him in return.
That's what he was counting on, anyway.

================================

Charles Gunn leaned back casually against one of the old mattresses propped up
against the wall, as he picked at the dirt beneath his fingernails with a sharp
knife. The mattresses lined the walls and the outer edges of the floor of the
make-shift training room, helping to prevent unnecessary injuries, while new
recruits learned the basics in self-defense. At the moment, Gunn was watching
a petite young brunette, fluid in every movement, despite the fact she was
nearly seven months pregnant.

Faith had stayed true to her word, and had stopped going out on missions with
Gunn and his crew, but she kept visiting nearly every day anyway. Maybe it was
for the company - she laughed easily with all of them, and loved telling
stories of her past exploits - or maybe it was her sense of duty that brought
her here. By helping to train the others, she could still participate in the
hunt. Gunn was grateful, because it could mean life or death for many of the
young people under his care.

"I asked someone about you, the other day," Gunn called out across the room.
Startled, Faith completely missed the padded dummy she was kicking, and ended
up in a heap on one of the mats. Gunn raced over to her, concerned.

"Are you okay?"

Ego more bruised than anything, Faith brushed him off lightly. "Yeah, I'm
okay. It's just a little harder to keep my balance these days, y'know.
Different center of gravity and all."

Gunn had to chuckle, remembering what he'd said the other day when she'd walked
in:

"Damn Girl! What happened to you? One day you can't tell a thing, and the
next you're..."

The menacing look stopped him in mid-sentence. "I'd choose those next words
carefully. I can *still* take you in a fight."

After what Gunn had learned from Wesley, he was sure that a hormonal Slayer was
not something he wanted to upset, so he'd dropped it.

"So, what do you mean you 'asked about me'? Who have you been talking to?" He
couldn't tell if Faith was worried, angry, or both.

"There's this guy I work with. He does nothing but read books all day...books
about vampires and demons and stuff. He told me all about the Slayer thing
...got totally tense about someone named Buffy. I think he knew her, but, for
once, he shut up and wouldn't say another word. He told me there's usually
just one of you all, but something freaky happened - like *that's* a surprise -
and now there's two of you. That about sum it up?"

"Yeah...." Faith was distracted. "Did you tell him you know me?"

"Nah...he probably woulda started asking me questions, and I don't like to talk
to him *that* much. I mean, the guy's okay, but he sure can talk your ear off
if you let him."

"Good, let's just keep it our secret, okay? I mean, I don't want the whole
city to know I'm here."

"I gotcha....no problem."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I suppose you want me to go in after him." Wesley looked at the run-down
building, then back at his boss.

Angel looked as expressionless as ever. "Well, yeah...seeing as how he's not
gonna know we're out here otherwise."

Wesley sighed, and made a face that really wasn't intended to be seen...but
Angel caught it anyway. "Oh, very well." He opened the car door, and stepped
out, only to have Cordelia slip out from the back seat. "Really, Cordelia, I
think I can handle this myself."

"Hey, I just want to see where Gunn and his crew are living these days. I feel
sorry for them...being homeless, and all."

"I know how they feel," came the soft comment from the driver's seat.

Wesley was staring glumly at the building again. "I'll be happy when he moves
somewhere with phone service," he muttered to his side-kick.

"I tried to get Angel to buy him a cell phone, but all he said was he'd be more
than happy to give him his." Wes looked at her, curious. "I told him no dice.
He could just act like a grown man and figure out how to work the thing
himself." She smiled up at him, pleased with herself.

Wesley led the way: through the creaky door with the broken lock, into the
maze of corridors that was dimly lit with strings of Christmas lights and
electricity 'borrowed' from a nearby power line. Cordelia shied away from the
many spider webs, and tried not to sneeze, as their feet stirred up dust and
dirt.

Wes had been to see Gunn here once before, bringing the young freedom fighter a
message from his undead employer. He wasn't all together happy about the
agency's increasing dependence on the young man, and his even younger
protectorate. This had led to far fewer chances for him to fight alongside
Angel, and Wesley missed the closeness of these outings.

"How much further?" Cordy hissed into her colleague's ear.

"Not far. Just around another turn or two, I believe."

"You *believe*? You're not sure? You've gotten us lost, haven't you."

Wesley ignored her, following the sounds he could now hear up ahead. If he was
correct, the training room was first, on the left. They turned another corner,
and the tall man stopped at the lit doorway. Cordelia, who had been following
closely on his heels, slammed into his back.

"Hey, quit making like a statue and move your bony butt!"

Wesley's attention was drawn to the center of the room, where Gunn was lightly
sparring with someone. He was about to call out to the dark, young man, when
he froze - recognizing Gunn's companion...

Faith.

================================

Faith was with Gunn, and she was smiling. Their fighting appeared to be
playful, as both were laughing easily.

Wes had never understood the phrase 'seeing red' until now. His focus was
completely locked onto Faith and Gunn, the sound of blood rushing through his
ears drowning out all others. His entire body grew tense and he felt like his
insides were about to boil over. He didn't remember crossing the distance
between the doorway and the center of the room. The next thing he knew he was
grabbing Gunn by the collar of his jacket, spinning him around, and throwing a
right hook to his jaw.

"Oh shit." Faith took one look at Wesley and backed off, slipping quietly from
sight.

Gunn landed hard on the floor, caught completely unaware. He looked up, ready
to defend himself, and was startled to see Wesley looming over him, with fists
clenched and a scowl twisting his normally placid features.

"What's the big idea? Are you nuts?!"

"How dare you? What do you think you're playing at?" Wesley sputtered.

Cordy had rushed in, and was helping Gunn to his feet. She had seen Faith too,
and was desperate to keep the peace between her two friends.

"Wes, calm down. I'm sure we can work this out calmly and quietly."

"I don't want to calm down." Wesley again made to advance on Gunn, who stood
his ground, completely unintimidated.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're in *my* house now, and you'd
better back off, if you don't want me to do some serious damage to that frail
carcass of yours.

"Don't underestimate me, Charles...If you know what's good for you, you'll
leave *her* alone." He shoved Gunn hard in the chest.

Completely confused, but not about to let some skinny-assed white boy have the
advantage, for any reason, Gunn sent a sharp jab into Wesley's solarplexes,
causing him to double over, gasping for air.

"I don't know who you're talking about, but I'm sure not taking orders from
*you*."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordelia, having realized she couldn't handle the situation on her own, had
fled the room and made her way back to the car.

"Angel, come quick! Wes and Gunn are fighting and I think they're gonna kill
each other."

The alarm in the girl's voice was enough to jump-start Angel into action. He
leapt out of the car, and followed her back inside. Questions would have to
come later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"For God's sakes man. She's *pregnant*. I can't believe you would put her in
danger like that."

At least Gunn knew *who* his attacker was talking about. "Faith? You got it
all wrong. I wasn't trying to hurt her. We were just getting a little
exercise...doing a little training together."

A calmer Wesley would have realized that Gunn was innocent of any imagined
wrong-doing, in regards to Faith, but all the ex-Watcher's frustrations had
begun to surface and his emotions got the better of him. "That's no excuse for
putting her life in danger...their lives."

"No offense, Wes, but I don't really see how this is any concern of yours."

"Not my concern? Not *my* concern?!" Wesley's voice had risen to practically
a high pitched squeal. He lunged at Gunn again, who moved to side-step him.
They both ended up on the floor, a mass of tangled limbs and flying fists. By
the time Angel got there to separate them, Wesley had a bloody lip, and had
lost his glasses, while Gunn had received a bruised cheekbone, and a cut above
his right eye.

"ENOUGH!" roared Angel, as he grabbed Wesley by the back of his coat and yanked
him off Gunn. "Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here?"

When both men tried to speak at once, Angel held up his hand to silence them.
He turned to the only seemingly sane human in the room for an explanation.
"Cordy?"

"Faith was here." That was all she needed to say.

A silent 'oh' rested in Angel's mouth, as he looked first at Wesley, then at
Gunn, then back again. "Wes, I want you to go wait in the car."

"B-but..."

"NOW!"

For a split second it appeared that Wes was going to argue further, then he
changed his mind, bent to retrieve his glasses, and stalked off, huffily.

Angel and Gunn looked at each other, and in unison said, "You know Faith?"
Gunn deferred to the vampire.

"We know Faith from Sunnydale. She's what's known as...."

"...a Slayer," Gunn interrupted. "Yeah, she told me all about that. She never
mentioned knowing you all, though."

"How did *you* meet Faith?" Cordelia was curious.

Gunn shrugged. She just showed up here one night, a few weeks back. Said
she'd heard I was in the vamp hunting business and she wanted to join up."

Cordy turned an 'I told you so' face towards Angel. "That *can't* be a
coincidence. I told you she was gonna make trouble."

"None of this explains why 'Tea and Sympathy' went all postal on me. What's
with that?"

Angel was trying to find a delicate way of putting it. "Faith and Wesley
share...alot of history."

"Pffft! Not to mention a *future*," was Cordy's typically blunt addendum.

Angel fidgeted uneasily and Cordelia crossed her arms angrily. Understanding
lit Gunn's face. "Don't tell me..please don't tell me...*He's * the...." He
couldn't say it.

"...the daddy? Yep...sure is."

Angel scratched at his ear and bit thoughtfully at his bottom lip. "That still
doesn't explain why he attacked Gunn like that."

"Oh, c'mon, it is *so* obvious." Cordy couldn't believe the clueless looks she
was getting. "He's jealous!" She threw up her hands in an 'I give up' gesture.

"Why would he be jealous of me?"

"See, Faith was Wesley's Slayer. He was her Watcher...but they never got
along." The girl leaned in, to whisper, "Faith's kinda evil."

"What's a Watcher? No one ever mentioned one of those."

"The Watcher is someone assigned to the Slayer...he trains her and protects
her. They're supposed to work as a team," Angel offered.

"Don't you get it? Wesley can't connect with Faith...then he comes in here and
sees you guys training together, laughing, having fun...he's been pretty
sensitive lately...well, for like...ever...and I guess he just snapped." Cordy
shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world...which it was, now
that she'd said it.

Gunn took a moment to let all this new information sink in. "I get the feeling
there's a whole lot more to this story, but I also don't think I want to hear
it right now. I guess I can let him off...*this* time. You better tell Mr.
Testy though...he comes at me that way again, and I ain't promising he's gonna
be able to walk away. Clear?"

The other two nodded, said their good-byes, and headed back to the car.
Neither was very surprised to see that, when they got there, Wesley was nowhere
to be found.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley pulled his jacket tighter around himself, to counteract the evening
chill. The fury had worn off a few blocks away from Gunn's building, leaving
shame in its wake. How could he have acted to immaturely? The fact that Gunn
was a favorite of Angel's certainly wasn't going to win him any points either.
Now, thanks to his impetuousness, Wesley was faced with a long walk home. He
appeared to have lost his wallet in the scuffle, and didn't have the cabfare.

The sullen man wasn't particularly in a hurry to get home anyway. He didn't
know what he was going to say to Faith.

Faith.

A wave of anger washed over Wes again. How did he keep letting himself get
into these situations? A sixth sense, honed by months of demon hunting at
Angel's side, suddenly alerted him to another presence somewhere behind him.
He wrapped his long, thin fingers around the stake in h is pocket, that he kept
with him at all times, and cocked his head slightly to one side, listening. He
hoped it *was* a vampire...then he would get to kill something.

Either it was an incredibly noisy vampire, or it was something else. Wesley
whipped around to face whatever was following him. His brain barely had time
to register the familiar tall, lanky figure; the unshaven face, wearing a
mocking smile; or the gruff, heavily accented voice, before the tranquilizer
dart hit him, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Hello, Wesley."

==================================

================================

(the next afternoon)

Wesley's consciousness crept quietly back into place, gingerly testing it's
surroundings, as would a person walking on thin ice. Unfortunately, this was
becoming an all too common occurrence, and his brain wasn't taking any chances.
There was no avoiding the prerequisite pounding headache, and he was
contemplating passing out again, when he heard the voices. Jumbled at first,
they eventually divided into three distinctive, familiar entities.

There was no mistaking the first two - one male, one female, both British.
Wesley had already seen Council Special Ops Agent Weatherby, in that brief
moment before oblivion had found him, so it only stood to reason that Penelope
Birch was the woman. The third voice was a puzzle. Wes was sure he'd heard it
before. He listened intently, as the mystery man continued.

"...The Council can do what they want with *him* and the girl. That's not our
concern. You know our terms. The firm wants the vampire kept alive. Anything
happens to him, and all bets are off."

Of course. Lindsey McDonald. Why was he not surprised to find out the
Watchers Council was aligned with Wolfram and Hart? At least they appeared to
have finally given up even the illusion of respectability.

As the voices drifted off into the other room again, Wesley gingerly opened his
eyes. He was rewarded with a view of the grey wall in front of him. He was
lying on a rather uncomfortable bed, and a test drive of his various limbs
indicated he was not bound in any way. It hurt when he breathed, and he
suspected his ribs were either bruised or cracked. Most likely, Weatherby had
gotten in a few good kicks for his own pleasure. Wesley got the distinct
impression the man didn't like him much.

With some effort, the former Watcher rolled himself over, and swung his legs
over the side of the bed. Sitting up caused a slight bout of nausea; he closed
his eyes until it passed.

A quick perusal of his surroundings revealed a stark, grey room, a tiny window
high up on the wall, with a table and chair it's only furnishings, apart from
the bed. A small lamp on the table cast a dim glow. [Not terribly original.]
Just once it would be nice to be held captive in a deluxe condo, with a big
screen TV, hot tub, and butler service. Well, he could dream.

"So, you're finally awake, are you?"

"Weatherby," he answered coolly. "Penelope." He gave his head a nod in her
direction. "I must say, I'm surprised to see the two of you again. The
Council rarely gives second chances, as we all well know."

Wesley caught the briefest of looks between his captures, and allowed a bit of
smugness to slip into his voice. "Ah, working independently, are we?"

"We're just here to finish the job we started, " Weatherby snarled.

"I thought The Council wasn't interested in me?"

Penelope stepped closer, and Wes had no trouble remembering why he'd always
found her slightly disturbing, even back at the Academy. "You're nothing to
us, Wesley. You're worse than useless, except as one thing...Bait."

Wes tried to sound more cavalier than he felt. "You both know I have no
control over Faith. What makes you think she'd bother coming after me?"

"She will...and if she doesn't, then the vampire will. Either way, we win."
Her smile was pure evil.

He swallowed hard, as he felt his confidence wavering. He didn't want any of
his friends risking their lives to save him. He squared his shoulders, and
took a deep breath. He would just have to figure out a way to escape before
that happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(the next day)

"Okay, okay," muttered Cordelia, to the persistent knocking at her door. "I'm
coming." She pulled open the door, to find the last person she ever expected
to see - Faith. "What do *you* want?"

"I need to see Wesley, please." Faith was trying to be polite, hoping the girl
would be a little less hostile towards her. It didn't appear to be working.

"And what makes you think he wants to see you?"

Before Faith could answer, Angel came up behind Cordelia, a cup of coffee in
his hand. "Wesley's not here."

"Okaaaay...when's he gonna be back?"

Cordelia planted her hands firmly on her hips, and Faith could almost swear
there was smoke coming from her ears. "He hasn't been here since that whole
thing with Gunn...like you didn't know."

Faith grew concerned. "He never came home either. I figured he was staying
here, but then he missed a doctor's appointment today, and he never misses
those."

"He had a doctor's appointment?"

"No, I did. He always comes with, to ask like a hundred questions."

Angel motioned her inside, ignoring Cordy's annoyed face.

Faith gratefully sank into one of the living room chairs, and a glass of apple
juice floated over to her. "Uh...thanks?" the startled girl replied.

"Dennis," growled Cordy, under her breath. Just who paid the rent around here,
anyway? "That's Dennis, my ghost. You'd better behave yourself, or he *will*
toss you out on your ass."

"Relax, Cordy. I'm not here to start anything."

"Too late for that."

"Ladies, please, what we need to do here is figure out what happened to
Wesley," interrupted Angel.

"Maybe he's just off doing the sulking thing."

"No, Faith's right. He wouldn't have missed that appointment. Besides, when
has Wesley not shown up for work?" Angel was pacing up and down behind the
couch.

Cordelia had to admit he was right. "So, I get on the computer and search
police and hospital files..."

"...and I can trace the route he would have taken..see if anyone saw anything,"
Faith added. Seeing Angel about to protest, she pointed out, "No offense,
Tall, Dark and Broody, but the sun's still shining pretty brightly out there,
and besides, I could probably get more answers than you - little ole me, the
pregnant wife, searching for my missing husband." She put on a waify, helpless
voice. Angel had no choice but to agree.

"After sundown, I'll check some of my own sources...see if anyone's heard
anything."

Cordelia's face was drawn tight with worry for her missing friend. "Sounds
like a plan. Let's get going people!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley looked at his watch. It had been 15 minutes since he'd been 'checked
on', so he'd most likely have an hour or so to himself. [Time enough to try
out my idea.] He smiled grimly to himself, and set to work moving furniture.
His goal was the small window, high above him. His mission - yes, he chose to
accept it - was to pile up his sparse furnishings, climb up to said window, and
try to pinpoint his location.

First, he removed the small lamp from the rectangular table, placing it neatly
on the floor, before dragging the table under the window. Next came the chair.
As nimble as a monkey, Wesley easily scurried up his makeshift ladder
(apparently it was only Angel's presence that made him the bumbling fool), only
to find he required a few more inches to effectively see anything. Back down
he came, to remove the mattress from his bed, piling the furniture back up on
top of it. This time the climb was a bit more treacherous, due to the
instability of the mattress.

Wesley had already surmised that he was being held in some sort of warehouse.
The grey, cement walls, spartan features, and high ceilings were a dead
giveaway. The view out his window confirmed he was definitely in one of the
more rundown warehouse districts. Judging by the position of the sinking sun,
the window was facing west. Just beyond the next building, he could make out
the tall steeple of a large church. He was sure he'd seen it somewhere before,
but couldn't quite place it.

With nothing else of interest to see, Wes carefully lowered himself to the
ground again. He was about to replace the mattress, when he stopped, staring
thoughtfully at the bed frame. It was an old metal one, with large springs
coiled across it's width. Some of the springs had seen better days, and hung
there loosely. With a bit of wiggling, it was easy for Wesley to remove one of
them. He twirled the piece of metal between his fingers, examining it closely.
Another idea was forming.

Hearing a noise from the hallway, the former Watcher quickly stuck the spring
back into place, shifting the table and chair back where they belonged, and
replacing the mattress. By the time Weatherby strode arrogantly into the room,
Wesley was sitting peacefully, cross-legged on the bed like an overgrown
Ghandi, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(several hours later - Cordy's apartment)

Cordelia banged her head on her computer keyboard in frustration. A cup of
herbal tea floated over and set itself on the table next to her. "Nothing,
Dennis! No sign of Wesley anywhere. I suppose it should be a good thing that
he's not in the hospital, but..."

She was interrupted by the front door swinging open, as Faith entered, followed
closely by Angel.

"Thank, Dennis." The Slayer was adapting easily to the ghostly presence.

Cordy hopped out of her seat. "Please tell me you guys found out something. I
came up with zippo."

Faith came over and sat at the table. "I played the pity act all over that
part of town; finally found a woman who saw something. She says a tall scruffy
guy, with dark hair and a leather jacket, came up behind Wes, and shot him..."
Faith held up her hands, as Cordy gasped, horrified. "No, wait! Shopkeeper
Lady claims a van pulled up and a few goons dragged him inside and it took off
again. There was no blood, so I'm guessing they just knocked him out.....Is
this starting to sound familiar to anyone besides me?"

"The Watchers Council?" the young seer whispered.

Angel leaned against the back of Faith's chair. "That works with what I found
out. I went to Caritas..."

"Ugh, did they make you sing again?"

Angel sent a glare Cordelia's way that was part hurt, part annoyed, before
finally admitting, "The host said he had a headache and didn't want to put
either of us through it."

Faith twisted in her seat, to look up behind her. "Wait a minute, Angel
sings?" A laughing smile was on her lips.

"No, he most certainly does *not* sing," Cordy answered firmly. "So what did
Green Guy have to say?"

"He said Wesley's going to have to face his past to save his future."

"Geez, cryptic much? Anything *useful*, like directions, or a map?"

Angel shook his head. "He says we'll find him, if we follow the signs." The
vampire shrugged. "Maybe I should have sung after all."

"Okay, we figure out where he is, I go in and get him out....Simple."

Angel and Cordy stared at Faith, incredulously. Angel kneeled down in front of
her.

"Faith, even when we find Wesley - and we *will* find him - I can't let you go
after him alone. That's what they're waiting for."

"Then I guess we're gonna have to do this together...as a team." She watched
the others, practically daring them to refuse.

Cordelia glanced over at Angel, before sighing, "Okay, fine. Now all we have
to do is find him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley watched his colleague-turned-capture with interest. Weatherby had
pulled up the lone chair and was facing Wes, a bottle of beer in hand. Judging
from the slight sway to his movements, the ex-Watcher guessed the man had
already had more than a few already.

"So, Weatherby, how does it feel to be one of the exiled?"

"Not exiled! Not like you, you ponce," he snarled. "We're just here to
complete our mission, that's all."

Wes tried to sound casual. "Why is the Council so intent on bringing Faith in?
She poses no threat to them anymore. They've allowed Buffy to continue in
Sunnydale."

Weatherby snorted loudly. "S'not the Slayer they want. Haven't you figured
that out yet? And they say you're the smart one." He shook his head,
drunkenly. "It's the babe they want....if it weren't for that bloody prophesy,
I'd be back home right now..." he trailed off.

Wesley jerked forward, alerted by what he'd heard. "Prophesy? What prophesy?"

The drunk man laughed, mockingly. "If you hadn't gotten yourself sacked, you'd
know..."

"Shut up, you idiot!" Neither man had heard Penelope Birch come into the room.
"Get out." The man finished his beer, setting the bottle on the floor, before
slinking out of the room, grumbling the whole way.

"...bloody women...bloody country..."

Wesley held an icy stare on the woman before him. "Is this the point in the
movie where you reveal your evil plans to me?"

Penelope's smile was equally cold. "My dear Wesley, you should just accept the
facts. The Watchers Council sees the big picture. We're not the evil ones;
everything we do is for the greater good."

"The greater good of a bunch of pompous, power hungry, old men you mean."

"It doesn't really matter. Our sources tell us you've recently had a falling
out with your so called 'friends'...and they certainly don't trust Faith. I
don't think you should be counting on a preternatural rescue any time soon. A
few well-placed clues, and the Slayer will come after you...and we'll be
waiting for her."

The Rogue Demon Hunter leapt up off the bed, wanting nothing more than to
strangle the smug woman, but was stopped by the feel of a gun jabbing him in
his ribcage. A quick look told him it was the real thing.

"Ah, ah, ah...don't give me an excuse to use this. Bringing you back alive
isn't a requirement, merely a bonus. Enjoy your solitude while you can.
You're going to have company soon." She whirled around and left, the solid
door slamming hard behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley sat back down on the bed, his face buried in his hands. For all his
bravado, he really had no idea how he was going to get out of this. Demons and
vampires were easy to fight. You knew what to expect from them, and they were
single-minded in their purpose - kill, kill, kill. Fighting humans was another
thing altogether. You never knew what they were going to do. Wesley believed
that having the choice between being good and bad, and freely choosing the
latter, was the true meaning of evil.

The depressed man wondered if Angel and Cordy had even missed him yet. They
probably figured he was staying out of sight for a few days, after that foolish
stunt he'd pulled at Gunn's. [Cordelia] He lay back on the bed, closed his
eyes, and pictured her smiling face in his mind. [I wonder how 'in danger' I
would have to be for her to get a vision about me,] he mused. Taking a deep,
cleansing breath, Wesley cleared all other thoughts from his mind. He
concentrated on his best friend, trying to reach out to her with his thoughts.
Maybe the Powers That Be would take pity on him, for Faith's sake, if not his
own.

[Cordelia, I need your help.] He eventually dozed off, this one thought still
running through his head, like a mantra.

=======================================

It was a rather glum trio that sat silently in Cordelia's living room, each
trying to come up with a solution to their problem. With an "Argggh!" Cordelia
threw up her hands in disgust.

"This isn't getting us *anywhere*!" She shook a fist at the ceiling. "Some
Powers you are. Where are those Ten-Pain-Killer Headaches, when we need them?"

Faith turned a curious eye to Angel. "Does that work?"

He leaned towards her. "Not especially."

"Why don't we go to the source?" Faith commented. "Who better to know about
the Watchers Council, than a Watcher?"

Cordy looked at Faith with barely concealed contempt. "Oh, sure, why don't we
just call Wesley on the phone and ask him?"

"Not Wes...Giles."

For once, Cordelia was speechless. Angel nodded thoughtfully. "She's right.
Cordy, I think *you'd* better be the one to call him, though."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The former May Queen hung up the phone, and turned back to face the others,
relief written all over her face. "Giles says he'll be here first thing in the
morning. He's going to call around and see if any of his old friends have
heard anything. I told him to bring a 'finding spell' or something. He's got
all those books...there must be something useful in one of them."

"So, now we wait," Faith sighed. She hated waiting.

A pillow and blanket floated into view above them, and Angel jumped up to take
the items from the ghost. "Dennis is right...thanks, Dennis...We're going to
have a long day tomorrow, so we should try to get some sleep. Faith, why don't
you take the spare bed, and I'll take the couch?" The vampire's eyes pleaded
with Cordy, asking her not to make a fuss.

The Slayer turned towards her hostess. "Are *you* sure? 'Cause I would
understand if you didn't want me to stay."

A beat, then, "Of course, don't be ridiculous. Like I'm gonna make myself look
bad by turning away a pregnant girl in the middle of the night." Angel smiled
thankfully at her, and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

They soon said their goodnights and settled into their beds, but it was a long
time before any of them found the comfort of sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(the next morning)

Battle lines had been drawn. Two on one side, two on the other, a nervous
hostess in the middle, trying to keep a smile on her face.

If they had known Giles intended on getting there at 8am, Faith and Angel
probably would have gotten up sooner. If they had known Giles was bringing
Buffy with him, they would most certainly not have been there when they
arrived, sun or no sun. To be fair, as Giles tried to so delicately put it,
*he* hadn't known Buffy was coming with him, until she'd caught him awake at
3am, researching spells, and had demanded to know what the hell was going on.

Giles and Cordelia tried gamely to carry on a polite conversation, while Buffy
divided her silent, intense scrutiny between her ex-lover and her fellow
Slayer. Angel cracked first, leaping up suddenly, with the announcement that
he was going to go make breakfast. This paved the way for Faith's offer to
help, and they both made their escape into the kitchen.

"Angel eats breakfast?" Buffy demanded to know, as soon as they were out of
sight.

Cordelia smiled superiorly at her former schoolmate. "No, he *makes*
breakfast. He's a damned fine cook, especially his eggs. What, he never made
you breakfast?"

Giles rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.

"And who would have thought, back in high school, when you were drooling all
over poor, flustered Wesley, that he'd end up 'knocking up' a tramp like
Faith." Buffy replied, sweetly.

The battle lines had shifted, and now Giles found himself unwittingly in the
middle. "As I was saying," he interjected, smoothly. "I contacted my source
in the Watchers Council, and she hasn't heard anything about another attempt to
bring Faith into custody, or to kidnap Wesley. I gave her your number,
Cordelia, in case anything new comes to light.

"We came all the way here just to tell them that?" Buffy groused, under her
breath.

Ignoring her, Giles continued to speak to Cordy. "I did find a spell that may
be of some help to us...but I hesitate to even mention it..."

"Hey, no holding back on the book knowledge now. That's what we called you
here for. Spill it!"

"It would enable someone, acting as a 'focus', to see through Wesley's eyes."

"Ohhh, that could work," the young seer interrupted again.

"I don't think you realize what powerful forces we're talking about here. The
invocation is actually quite simple, but there are always lasting effects..."

"Hey, if its going to help us find Wes, then I say it's worth it. It's not
like we're swimming in ideas here."

"Yes, quite....well, I'm glad you feel that way then, because *you* will need
to be the focus." He looked into her eyes, to make sure she understood how
serious he was.

"Me?" she squeaked. "It's not going to hurt, is it? Cause the visions I get
from the PTBs are really bad."

"PTBs?" Buffy asked, curiously.

"The Powers That Be...the guys that brought Angel back to atone for his
sins...the reason I get mind-blowing headaches and have daily encounters with
slimy demons...duh, where have you been?"

Giles reached out and covered her hand with his own, in a comforting gesture.
"I think we should discuss this further, with the others....perhaps after
breakfast...."

As if on cue, Faith returned from the kitchen, with place settings for four.
She pointedly avoided looking at Buffy, who was uncomfortable being there and
restless from sitting so quietly, and who couldn't resist one more jibe at her
'arch enemy'.

"Well, look at the happy, little homemaker. Is Angel teaching you how to be
the perfect wife? Who's going to teach you to be a mother? Cause, frankly, I
just can't see it."

Silverware clattered loudly onto the table. "Okay, B', I've had enough. I've
tried to give you some space, because I've done alot of really horrible things
to you, and I can understand why you don't like me very much. But, no one
invited you here today - you invited yourself - so, if you can't just shut up
and help, then I think you need to leave."

"Who died and made you Queen Bee? Last time I checked, you didn't live here.
I'm sure Cordelia just welcomed *you* with open arms." The Slayers were nose
to nose, when Angel appeared, drawn out by all the yelling. Before he could
break them up, however, Faith stunned them all by backing off.

"I'm not going to fight with you, B'. I have more important things to worry
about...like my baby...and trying to find her father, before he gets killed
because of me. I'm trying to make a new life here, and you don't have to like
it, but I don't have to listen to your crap either." She was near tears, as
she turned and ran for the bedroom.

Angel went after her, calling back, "The food's ready in the kitchen, Cordelia."

A skillet of eggs, glasses of orange juice, and a stack of toast floated into
view. Cordy tried to salvage the situation. "Okay, who wants eggs?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(1/2 hour later)

It had been a quiet breakfast, each of them lost in his/her own thoughts.
After all the food had been eaten, Buffy quietly volunteered to do the dishes,
where she was unexpectedly joined by Angel, a few minutes later.

"She's asleep. It was a long night last night, and none of us got much sleep."

Buffy put down the scrub brush, and looked sadly into Angel's eyes. "I'm
sorry. I don't know why coming to this town always turns me into such a bitch."

Angel shrugged. "There are alot of people here you don't really enjoy seeing.
It's stressful."

"I don't want *you* to be one of those...people, Angel. It would be nice if we
could get along...maybe be friends someday."

He smiled his small, quirky smile at her. "I think we will be...someday. Just
like I think you'll get over being so angry at Faith too."

"She really has changed, hasn't she?"

"She's trying. Wesley's responsible for most of it. I think he's the real
reason she's so upset...not that she'd ever admit it."

Buffy looked at Angel, like she was just seeing him for the first time. "When
did you get so good at reading people?"

"Wesley and Cordy...and Doyle too...they've helped me too. I guess you could
say they force me to stay connected...to pay attention to them."

"Well...good for you!" And she actually meant it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(1 hour later)

She was determined. When Cordelia Chase made up her mind about something,
there was no changing it - not the concerned stutterings of the former Watcher,
nor the angry protests of her vampire boss. There was a way for her to help her
friend, and she was going to take it. As she quietly pointed out, "Wesley
would do the same for me." Even Buffy was impressed by the formerly
self-involved girl's loyalty.

Cordelia, trying to appear braver than she felt, rubbed her hands together, and
painted on a bright smile. "Okay, people. Let's do this thing. Might as well
get it over with, so we can bring Wes home, and get all of you out of my
apartment and back to your own homes." Angel smiled at her bravado.

Buffy and Angel set about moving the living room furniture, creating an open
space in the center of the room. Giles was rummaging through his satchel for
supplies, drawing out four fat candles, with wax drippings already hardened
down the sides; a slim, worn rope, that had obviously seen prior use - for
what, no one wanted to ask; and the book 'Ancient Invocations and Advanced
Spells: Vol. 3'.

"Good Lord," he stood suddenly. "I'd quite forgotten...we need a personal item
of Wesley's...the more personal the better."

Buffy groaned, at seemingly yet another delay. "I suppose this means a field
trip to Wesley's apartment."

"Not necessarily..." Angel shifted uncomfortably, as all eyes were suddenly
focused on him. "Uh, would glasses be considered personal enough?"

"Angel, the last time I saw him, Wes was *wearing* his glasses," Cordy reminded
him, in a slightly impatient tone.

"No, not those...hang on a minute." He disappeared into the spare bedroom,
treading quietly, so as not to wake Faith, returning a moment later with a
mysterious object, wrapped in cloth.

The others gathered around, curious, as he unwound the material, revealing a
pair of soot-smudged, wire-rimmed glasses, with a jagged crack down the length
of one lens. Three sets of eyes now peered up at him, as he tried not to
stammer on his explanation, or to reveal his embarrassment.

"They're his old pair. H-he [damn] was wearing them when the office blew up..."

"And you *kept* them?" Angel sent a sharp glare at Cordelia, and she snapped
her mouth shut again.

"I found them when I went back to see if anything could be salvaged. Meant to
return them, but kept forgetting; then he got new ones and...uh..."

Giles jumped in to rescue the vampire. "Those will do splendidly, Angel.
Thank you." He took them from him, as Angel tried to retreat. Cordy wouldn't
let him though, slipping over and giving him a quick hug. Buffy watched the
quick exchange in surprise, then actually found herself smiling.

Giles set about creating a circle with the rope, placing the four candles at
the crucial Cardinal points. He straightened and gently asked Cordelia, "Are
you ready?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and she could only nod. Angel gave her hand a
squeeze and whispered, "It'll be okay. I'll be right here." She smiled at him
gratefully, and stepped into the circle.

"Wha...what do I have to do?"

"All you just need to stand there. I shall do the rest." He handed her the
glasses, and waited, expectantly.

"I don't have to *wear* these, do I?" She felt a little foolish, worrying
about how she'd look, at a time like this, but it was easier than worrying
about what she was about to do.

"It's not imperative, but it would make the connection stronger."

"Right....well, here goes nothing." She looked fondly at the glasses,
remembering them on Wesley's prim and proper face, before placing them gently
on her own. "Okay, I feel silly, but I'm ready."

Angel and Buffy stood on either side of the girl; Giles lit each candle in
turn, then took his place opposite her, as he began the invocation:

"Fates - those who see all - we invoke thee. Link the threads of this one
and the one we seek, so that she shall see through
his eyes.....Clothos, Lachesis, and Atropos....weave their threads
together NOW!"

Silence. No one daring to move. Cordy opened one eye and whispered, under her
breath, "Is that it?"

Giles removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Yes, that's
it. Do you feel any different?"

"Not really, I...whoa!" Cordy had turned to move and suddenly felt the room
spin and her knees buckle. Angel caught her easily and led the disoriented
girl to the couch, where she sank down gratefully.

"I can't see! Everything's blurry!"

"Uh, Cordy..." Angel slipped Wesley's glasses off her nose.

"Oh yeah, oops." She looked up at the three anxious faces hovering above her.
"I-I'm okay. I think it worked...it feels really...weird." She tried to find
words to describe what it felt like, but failed. "It's like...I'm not alone.
I know that sounds silly, but..."

"In a real sense you aren't alone. You and Wesley are linked now. Your life
threads are entwined," Giles explained.

"Excuse me?!" A harsh voice came from behind them, making all four jump.
"What the *hell* is going on here?" Faith did not sound at all pleased at what
she'd just been hearing.

================================

Reality took a wild leap to the right, and looked back at Wesley, tauntingly.
When the disconcerted man tried to follow, his foot hooked around a leg of the
chair that had apparently jumped out to trip him. Only an amazing display of
acrobatics kept him from sprawling face first onto the cool, concrete floor.

Spinning around to see if anyone had been watching, he saw no one. Trouble
was, he *knew* someone else was there with him; every muscle in his body
twitched at the close proximity of this unseen 'someone'. Feeling rather
foolishly like a dog chasing his own tail, Wes turned around a few more times,
hoping to 'catch' whatever invisible entity had joined him in his quarters,
minutes before.

Tired, stressed, and more than a little annoyed, Wesley knew when to give up.
Gripping the back of the wooden chair tightly, he dragged it towards him,
flopping down unceremoniously, onto a seat worn smooth from use. Removing his
glasses and tossing them onto the nearby table, the shaken Brit rubbed his
palms along his stubbled chin, before dropping his face into his hands;
trembling uncontrollably.

After all he'd been through in his life - the childhood torment at the hands of
his father...the rigors of the Watchers Training Academy...the humiliation of
his days in Sunnydale...the daily growing pains of his life in L.A. - he would
have thought himself stronger than this. Perhap