Second Thoughts
by
Brenda

Title: Second Thoughts
Author: Brenda
Fandom: Angel & Buffy fandom
Category: Action-Adventure, Hurt-Comfort
Rating: PG-13
WARNINGS: Violence
Season: Angel season 1/Buffy season 4
Spoilers: Post To Shanshu in LA.
Summary: When Giles needs the help of a still-convalescent Wesley with a translation, the battered detectives of Angel Investigations reluctantly return to Sunnydale. Meanwhile the Scoobies find that Cordelia and Wesley are not exactly as they remember them.
Characters: Angel, Wesley, Cordelia, Gunn. Buffy, Giles, Willow, Xander, Tara.

Angel wasn't used to jumping at every small sound or movement around him. But then he wasn't used to the humans in his care getting caught in explosions or ending up in psychiatric units either. It was going to take him a while to climb down from that pillar of anxiety where he was currently perched.

At the moment the only sounds in Cordelia's apartment, aside from the low murmur of the TV set on the Style channel, was a muted clatter as Cordelia chose and discarded nail polish bottles, and the occasional soft moan from Wesley when he moved in his sleep on the sofa. Any sound from Wesley would bring Cordelia's head up sharply and she would stare at him, a little frown of worry between her perfectly arched brows, until he settled down again. Then she would go back to her pedicure while Angel continued to watch Wesley for signs of discomfort. Cordelia hadn't seen Wesley like Angel had: lying sprawled on the steps of the basement like a broken toy while fire raged and burning beams crashed around him. She hadn't seen him on the gurney, his face deathly white under the burns, with an oxygen mask to aid his breathing. And she hadn't seen him struggling past his own pain and disorientation to translate and read the words on the scroll which released her from the spell that was driving her mad. Wesley hadn't seen Cordelia at her worst either, strapped to the bed as she thrashed and tried to escape the horrific visions assaulting her mind. He was glad neither one of them had to see the other that way, although from the way they kept watching each other, he suspected they knew how bad it had been.

Cordelia had been released from the hospital when the doctors could find nothing wrong with her, and she immediately went to spend her time at Wesley's bedside, doing a much better job of making him smile and keeping him occupied than Angel ever could. She seemed fully recovered from her ordeal, and the only difference Angel could see in her was a new pride in the way she talked about being Vision Girl and a new determination to make a difference.

Wesley hadn't been so lucky. Aside from his collection of contusions, cuts and burns, he had a concussion and had wrenched his back. The doctor had released him from the hospital yesterday as there was no further reason to keep him there, but he was groggy from the pain medication and moving around with all the agility of an eighty-year old with arthritis. Neither Angel nor Cordelia felt comfortable with him staying by himself so, ignoring Wesley's objections, they'd brought him here and made a place for him in Cordelia's living room. Angel thought things would probably get back to normal once Wesley's face stopped looking like that of a battered spouse and he stopped running to Cordelia's side every time she rubbed her temple.

They all three jumped when Cordelia's phone rang, Wesley murmuring something in his sleep before sighing and falling silent again, and Angel watched as the phone floated over to where Cordelia was holding out her hand in anticipation.

"Thanks, Dennis." Cordelia hugged the receiver between her shoulder and jaw as she continued to paint her toenails. "Hello." Angel could make out the sound of a male voice on the other end of the phone, but not what was being said. Cordelia frowned a little. "And hello to you, too. No, the phones at the office aren't working right now, so we're working out of my place."

In fact, the phones at the office were melted puddles of plastic at the bottom of the debris that was all that was left of Angel Investigations. He saw Cordelia glance at Wesley.

"No, I'm afraid that's not possible right now." She rolled her eyes and murmured, "Everything always is." She set her nail polish aside and gave her full attention to the conversation. "Planes, cars, trains. They'll all bring you here to sunny Los Angeles." She listened for a few moments longer, her mouth firmed into a straight line. "Too bad you never thought to tell him that when he was there." She actually laid the receiver in her lap as the man on the other end continued talking. Finally, she picked it up and interrupted, "You need to talk to Angel about this." She held the phone out to him and said crisply, "Giles."

He made a face and reluctantly accepted the receiver. "Did something happen to Buffy?" he asked Cordelia. He thought that unlikely given her reaction, but phone calls from Sunnydale always brought a feeling of dread.

"Other than the fact that somewhere along the line she felt the world revolved around her? No."

Angel raised the phone with a sigh. After what happened with Angelus and Jenny, things were uncomfortable at best between him and Giles. "Hello."

"Angel." Giles' voice was clipped and very British. "I don't know what Cordelia's playing at, but I don't have time for games. I need to speak to Wesley."

Angel glanced toward the sofa as Cordelia had done. "He's not available right now."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"Means he's not available right now," Angel repeated a bit firmer. Then he asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you can translate Kaz'halg," Giles retorted somewhat haughtily.

"Kaz'halg." Angel frowned, trying to remember anything he knew about that demon group. "Don't they write in some sort of code?"

Giles sounded as if he was striving for patience. "Yes they do. Which is why I need to talk to Wesley. As I tried to tell Cordelia, Wesley is the finest linguist of demon languages that I know, and furthermore he successfully decoded some Kaz-halg writings at the Watchers Academy that had stumped linguists there for years."

"He's a smart guy." Angel spoke with pride in his tone, and added with meaning. "I'm lucky to have him on my team."

"Yes, Angel, I know Wesley works for you now. But you don't control him, and you can't speak for him. Now, please tell me how to get in touch with him."

"Giles, I’m sorry you need something translated, but --"

"Listen to me, Angel. Two people died to get this scroll to me because they thought I could translate it; I can't. Does that give you some idea how urgent this is?"

"Then bring the scroll here." Wesley wasn't in any shape to be put under the kind of pressure this promised, but under proper supervision by himself and Cordelia to make sure he got plenty of rest, he could probably give some assistance to Giles if it was that important.

"It's much too dangerous," Giles said sharply. "Didn't you hear what I said? Two people have already died transporting this information. The last thing we need to do is move it and once more put it in danger of being stolen."

"I'm sorry, Giles. But right now Wesley can't make a trip to Sunnydale to --"

"Angel?" Angel looked up to find Wesley awake and blinking sleepily at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Cordelia said firmly. "It's just Giles asking Angel about something."

Wesley began to fight his way ineffectually out of the blanket that had gotten wrapped around him during his sleep. "Why does he need me to come to Sunnydale?"

"He doesn't." Cordelia strode over to the sofa and began to efficiently untangle him from the blanket.

"Cordelia, I heard my name."

She gently pulled his bandaged hand out from under the blanket and laid it on top. "You were dreaming. I dream about people saying my name all the time."

"Yes, well, I don't." He gave Angel a look and held out his good hand.

Angel grimaced and was careful not to look at Cordelia as he handed over the phone. "What did you do that for?" she hissed.

"Not like I had much choice," he murmured, watching Wesley talk to Giles. "He would have just picked up the phone and called Giles himself."

"You could have lied to him." Cordelia had her arms folded across her chest, glaring at him.

Angel had a sinking feeling he probably should have, but it was too late now, and besides, it didn't feel right lying to Wesley.

Wesley was obviously still a little disoriented from sleep and his medication, and he was frowning deeply as he listened to Giles, but he nodded a few times and asked some questions which made no sense to Angel but obviously had to do with Kaz-halg. He automatically raised his bandaged hand to push back glasses that weren't on his nose because not only had they been twisted in the explosion, but he had a bad cut on his nose just where the nosepiece should be and he found it too uncomfortable to keep them on. Even unshaven, he looked younger than Angel was used to seeing him, and Angel thought of both Cordelia and Wesley as children in terms of age and experience. Wesley looked up at Angel, his expression troubled. "Yes, I understand. Of course I'll come."

Cordelia made a sound of disgust and walked away, but Angel was held captive by that pleading gaze.

"I can be there...tonight?"

Wesley had made it a question, and Angel heaved a sigh and reluctantly nodded his head. If he didn't drive him there Wesley was just stubborn enough to call a cab or think he could take a bus. At least this way Angel could kid himself by thinking he was maintaining some control.

"All right, I'll see you then." Wesley held out the receiver and Dennis obligingly took it back, and Angel watched it float back to where it belonged.

The ensuing silence was broken by Cordelia turning back and demanding, "Are you out of your mind? You just got out of the hospital!"

"Cordelia --"

"You can barely walk all the way across the room without a back spasm."

"Cordelia --"

"And you just jump when those losers from Sunnydale call? Like those people are your friends? Like they showed you one scrap of human kindness when you were there the first time?"

Angel saw the little finch Wesley gave when she said this, but he merely very carefully smoothed out a wrinkle in the blanket with his good hand. "That's all water under the bridge," he murmured. "It was a long time ago. They need my help."

"Another musty old scroll? Don't we have one here that you seemed to think was so important?"

Wesley darted an anxious gaze at Angel. "It is important. I was going to start to work on it tonight --"

Angel held up his hand. "Wesley, trust me, you weren't going to be translating anything until you were recovered." He and Cordelia would have seen to that. "What makes Giles' scroll so important?"

Wesley rubbed his forehead, then winced when his fingers came in contact with the gauze covering a cut. "Giles didn't go into details. Something about a counterspell. Apparently they have information regarding a vortex someone will attempt to open on the next full moon. This is apparently the only way to close it."

"And that's it?" Cordelia demanded. "That's what all the fuss is about? One little old vortex?"

"A vortex on a hellmouth, Cordelia," Wesley reminded her. "I doubt butterflies and kittens would be coming out of it."

"Or if they did they'd probably be blood-sucking butterflies and saber-toothed kittens," Angel mused, thinking of the possibilities.

Cordelia gave Wesley a level look. "Giles said you were the finest linguist he'd ever known."

Wesley's head shot up. "Really?" A pleased smile started to form on his face and then he quickly looked down and shrugged. "Giles knows I've translated Kaz-halg in the past. It was only logical he call me."

"Uh huh." Cordelia headed for the kitchen, jerking her head for Angel to follow. "It's time for your pills. And I'll make you some tea and a sandwich. You didn't eat all of your last one."

"The medicine takes my appetite away," Wesley explained, laying back down carefully. "And I don't want any more pills. They make my mind all fuzzy. I won't be able to translate if I've taken them."

"It'll be hours before we're in Sunnydale, Wes," Angel said, following Cordelia.

"Besides which," Cordelia called out, "the car trip will wreck your back. If you don't take the muscle relaxers you won't be able to sit in a chair, let alone translate, so stop whining."

As soon as Angel entered the kitchen, Cordelia whirled around to face him, knife in hand from cutting bread for Wesley's sandwich. "I'm going too."

Angel frowned. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. You just got out of the hospital too."

"Exactly. And what if I have a vision? Who's going to be with me if I'm here alone?" Angel opened his mouth, then shut it, seeing her point, although he didn't think she was arguing for herself. "Besides which, you can't be trusted to look after Wesley. He just gives you a look and you cave."

"I do not," he objected. "Well, not every time."

"Often enough," she said grimly. "And I’m not letting him walk back into that pack of Scoobies alone."

"He won't be alone."

"He might as well be," she said crisply, turning back to the sandwich. "You probably don't even remember what they were like with him; you were too busy seeing everything through Buffy-colored glasses. But I remember. And Buffy was the worst of them. Her and Xander. Not to mention Giles." She cut through the bread with angry slices. "He's part of our team now, Angel. They're not going to treat him the way they did before. I won't let them."

He laid a hand over hers to stop the knife as the strokes got angrier and angrier. "Neither will I," he said firmly. He actually remembered more than Cordelia gave him credit for, but she was right in that his whole world back then had been Buffy. He hadn't spared many thoughts for the new Watcher in town, other than that incident with Faith, but while he'd never taken part in the Wesley-baiting in Sunnydale, he wasn't unaware of it. As he picked up the kettle and filled it with water, he determined there would be none of that this time around. Wesley wasn't the new Watcher in town, he wasn't replacing anyone, and he had nothing to prove. As Cordelia said, Wesley was part of their team now, and he had his own place with them.

***

They'd left Los Angeles before sundown because Cordelia argued the timing of Wesley's pills meant the medication would be at its strongest in his system and the trip would be easier for him. So Angel had climbed into the back of the car and gotten under a blanket without a word of protest. Cordelia drove until the sun went down, and then Angel took over. They both made frequent stops and saw to it that Wesley got out and walked around so his back didn't stiffen up too much. At their last stop before Sunnydale there were fine lines of pain around his mouth, but he refused to take any more pills, reminding them that he needed a clear head. Angel had to stop Cordelia from dropping the pills into Wesley's coffee when he went off to use the restroom, even though he'd briefly had the same thought at their last rest stop.

When Wesley came out of the restroom, walking stiffly and listing slightly to one side, Cordelia handed him his coffee, then held out three capsules in her hand. "It's Tylenol, Wesley. Over the counter. It won't fuzz up your head, but it should help with the pain. And so help me, if you don't take them, Angel's prepared to hold you down and I'm prepared to hold your nose, got it?"

Wesley blinked at her in surprise, then slowly smiled and took the pills from her palm, washing them down with coffee. "Thank you, Cordelia."

Cordelia had obviously been expecting an argument because she first looked surprised, then quickly covered it with an approving expression. "That's better. Now let's get moving. We're almost in Scooby-land."

"There's a cheery thought," Wesley murmured as he followed her to the car.

As he got behind the wheel, Angel really thought about the fact he was returning to Sunnydale with his team for the first time. Cordelia hadn't been back since she left the town for Los Angeles in her bid to become an actress. Wesley hadn't been back since he'd left on a motorcycle to become a Rogue Demon Hunter. But neither Cordelia nor Wesley were failures; Cordelia carried visions from The Powers which allowed them to help the helpless, and Wesley had become an integral part of their team, someone Angel could rely on and whose courage he didn't question. Now they were all returning to Sunnydale as Angel Investigations, as the family they'd become. He remembered how he felt when Cordelia and Wesley were in the hospital and he thought he was going to lose them both. It had never hit him quite so hard before that these young humans were his family now and he would do anything to protect them and keep them safe. He had no doubts about Cordelia being able to handle herself where the Sunnydale team was concerned; after all, she'd done it all her life. But he wasn't sure about Wesley. Wesley had left Sunnydale as a failed Watcher, and while he'd been there he'd earned no respect from anyone on Buffy's team. Angel had seen a lot of changes in Wesley since he first showed up in Los Angeles, jobless and hungry, and all those changes were good. He'd more than proven himself with his courage, intelligence and loyalty, and Angel was proud to have him not only on his team but as his friend. He didn't want to see any of Wesley's hard-earned self-confidence and new assurance undone by some unthinkingly cruel remarks from anyone on the other team.

As they passed the sign welcoming them to Sunnydale (Welcome to the Hellmouth would have been more appropriate but he doubted the Chamber of Commerce would have approved such a sentiment) Angel glanced at Wesley. He could sense the growing anxiety in him the closer they got to their destination, but whether it was because he was worried about the translation or once again having to work with people who'd wanted nothing to do with him the first time he was there, Angel didn't know.

As if reading his mind, Cordelia spoke up from the back seat. "So, is Giles going to be able to help you with this translation, or is he going to be like totally useless and expect you to do all the work?"

"I'm afraid of the two of us, I'm the only one who's had any experience translating Kaz-halg."

"Okay, here's a thought. Why don't you all just go find one of these Kaz-hags and have them translate it for you?"

"The Kaz-halg is an extinct race, Cordelia," Angel told her. "Has been for a few centuries."

"Another extinct demon race." Cordelia leaned forward so she was resting her chin on the seat between them. "Hey, didn't you have a knife to kill extinct demons, Wesley? Might come in handy now."

"Yes, Cordelia, I still have the knife. Luckily it suffered no lasting damage after coming in contact with your cooking."

Angel didn't know if that had been Cordelia's intention, but the resulting bickering seemed to take Wesley's mind off what lay ahead and Angel could feel his tension lessen considerably. It didn't spike again until he pulled to a stop in front of the Magic Box where they'd been told to meet Giles. The lights were on inside and Angel had no doubt Buffy, Xander and Willow at the very least would be there with him.

As she climbed out of the back seat, Angel heard Cordelia mutter under her breath, "It's show time."

The mood inside the Magic Box was tense and growing tenser. There would have been anxiety aplenty if their area of concern had been limited to the Kaz-halg scroll and the deadline looming in front of them. But Giles could hear the thumps in the back room as Buffy abused the training equipment in an attempt to work out her feelings over seeing Angel again. And Xander, who should have been helping himself, Willow and Tara in their research, was only irritating everyone by making a constant stream of inappropriate -- if perhaps accurate -- remarks about Angel, Wesley and Cordelia. Willow was pointedly ignoring him, but Tara looked confused and a little worried about the strangers that were due to invade their little group. For his part, Giles wasn't pleased he needed to call on Wesley Wyndam-Pryce for assistance. He'd had his fill of the young Watcher the first time around, and he wasn't looking forward to having the man in his stiff suit and tie and his hair brylcreemed into submission walk in here with his snotty attitude and take over as if it were his due. That worked so well the first time around.

His conversations with Cordelia and Angel had both been exceedingly strange, as if they'd been trying to protect Wesley from him. Frankly he found it almost impossible to believe that Wesley was still working for Angel, and that the vampire hadn't drowned him months ago.

"There's nothing in this one." Willow closed the heavy book she'd been paging through with a sigh and shoved it aside.

Tara looked up and said apologetically, "I'm not finding anything either."

They both had dark circles under their eyes from staring at print for so long, and as desperate as their situation was, Giles felt his heart melt a little as Willow and Tara both reached for another book, determined to carry on. "Why don't we take a break?" he suggested. "Perhaps some tea?"

"Don't you have anything with some nutritional value to it?" Xander asked. "Like Doctor Pepper or Mountain Dew?"

"If you want colored sugar water to pour into your system, Xander, you will have to go elsewhere," he replied stiffly.

"I think tea sounds lovely," Tara offered shyly.

"Yeah, do you have any of that orangey-spicy tea like we had the last time?" Willow asked. "That was filled with yummy goodness."

"Yes, I believe I do. Orangey-spicy all around then?"

"Well, if that's all you're offering..." Xander said glumly

"As I said, you're welcome to go out into the night and purchase your own refreshments, Xander."

Willow got to her feet. "We'll fix it, Giles. We don't mind, do we, Tara?"

Tara smiled up at her and got to her feet. "Not at all."

They both looked relieved to get to their feet and move around, and Giles let them go. It would probably do them all some good to get up and move around a bit. In fact, going into the back and working out with Buffy was having some appeal at the moment. As Willow and Tara gathered around the tea supplies he could hear Tara whisper, "Was this Wesley as bad as Xander says? Giles doesn't seem too happy about him coming back."

"Wesley was kind of...not good with people," Willow said finally. "He was like the new kid in class who came in and made a really bad impression on his first day in school, and then no one wanted to be friends with him."

"Oh, ouch," Tara said softly.

"Yeah. I think he was really smart, but it was really hard for him to fit in."

Tara got the teabags out of the tin and put one in each teacup. "I kind of know how that is," she said carefully.

Willow looked up from pouring the water into the Mr. Coffee. "What do you mean? You're great at fitting in! Look how well you fit. You're smart and you fit in. Shows it can be done."

The other girl looked down for a moment, then back at Willow, her voice even lower. "Willow, I don't think you realize how tight you and Buffy and Xander are. I mean, how you look to outsiders, and how hard it is for anyone else to...belong."

Willow began to look upset. "What do you mean? You belong."

"Yeah, kind of, now."

"Not kind of, you do."

Tara laid a hand on her arm, "Willow, I don't want to upset you. I just wanted you to realize you and Buffy and Xander and even Giles, can seem like a club, and it's easy for people to feel excluded."

"But, we're friends. We're not trying to exclude anyone."

"I know. And there's nothing wrong with you being friends, and close friends, but just try to see it from someone else's viewpoint."

"You mean...someone like Wesley? Who came into town and didn't know anyone and who was supposed to replace Giles..."

Tara nodded. "New kid in class and no one wanted to be friends."

Willow frowned as she poured the hot water into each mug. "To be fair, I don't think Wesley really wanted to be friends with any of us. He kind of just wanted to boss everyone around."

Tara said thoughtfully, "Okay. But that was then and this is now. How about we give him the benefit of the doubt this time?"

Willow smiled at her as she put the cups onto a tray. "I think we should." Then her smile faded. "But I don't know if the others will. It wasn't a very happy time between them."

"Well, we're only responsible for our own actions," Tara said sensibly. "So we'll just try to keep an open mind, okay?"

The look of pinched tiredness seemed to fade from Willow's face as she smiled fondly at Tara. "Smart and you fit in."

Giles sighed and moved some books aside as they came back to the table with the tray of tea. Keeping an open mind where Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was concerned wasn't as easy as Tara made it sound. And he really didn't have the time or the patience to worry about it.

He had just picked up his cup of tea when the bell over the door chimed and he looked up to find Cordelia standing in the doorway. She paused for a moment, and looked around, her gaze steely, and then stepped aside. She looked the same as Giles remembered, if a little thinner, still entering every room as if she expected to be the center of attention. But instead of coming all the way in to accept whatever accolades she expected, she stayed by the door as the second person entered. Giles set his cup back down with a thump as he recognized the tall, thin body all but shuffling into the room. "Good lord." If he hadn't been expecting to see Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, he wasn't sure he would have recognized him.

"Holy crap." That was Xander, who dropped his feet to the floor from their prop on the table. "What happened to the junior Watcher?"

"Shut up, Xander," Giles said sternly.

Behind Wesley, Angel filled the doorway, his face closed off as he looked around the room. He had his hand on Wesley's arm, and Giles could see the grip was tight enough to be supporting some of his weight. The man looked as though he'd been plucked directly out of an automobile wreck. There was a large piece of gauze on his forehead, and another on one cheek. He was pale and unshaven, but there were spots of reddened skin on his face that looked like burns. An angry cut on his nose probably accounted for his lack of glasses, and Giles could see his left hand was almost fully bandaged where it was sticking out from under a sweater that seemed too large for him. Everything seemed too large for Wesley. He was wearing a tee shirt under his sweater, and even so there was no bulk to the man at all.

"Well, here we are," Cordelia said in a loud voice. "If everyone is finished staring, maybe there's a chair where Wesley can sit down now?"

Before Giles could get to his feet, Tara was already up and pulling out a chair. "Here you go."

Angel steered Wesley over to the chair, and Giles could see from the careful way Wesley was moving that he must be in some considerable pain. But the man gave Tara a sweet smile as he slowly sat down. "Thank you. I don't believe I...?"

"I'm Tara," she said quickly. "Willow's friend."

"Thank you, Tara."

Giles looked around to see Cordelia giving him a cool look. "He insisted on coming."

Xander was frankly staring at Wesley, but Giles knew the man wouldn't want a fuss. He thought he knew exactly what he needed under the circumstances. "Wesley, can I offer you some tea?"

Wesley looked like a man dying of thirst who had just been offered a cool drink of water. "Oh yes, please."

"We'll get it," Willow offered. She smiled at Wesley. "Hi, Wesley."

"Willow." The man found a smile for her too, although Giles could see the puzzlement in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected any pleasant amenities. "It's nice to see you again. You're looking well."

Her smile faltered. "You're...so not. Are you sure you should be here? And not in a hospital?"

"He was in a hospital," Cordelia said in an unfriendly tone. "He just got out yesterday."

"Cordelia," Wesley reproved softly.

"I'll make the tea," Cordelia announced, striding over to the counter. "I know how he likes it."

Willow and Tara exchanged a look, and then sank back down into their seats. Giles turned to Angel who was still standing silently at Wesley's shoulder, and said quietly, "Buffy's in the back room, in case you'd like to see her. In private." He thought they'd all much rather Buffy and Angel met first in private; that way they didn't have to hear anything they didn't want to hear, and nothing out front would get broken.

"Thanks. That'd probably be a good idea." Giles saw him give Wesley's shoulder a careful squeeze, then he moved silently and gracefully toward the back room.

As he passed, Giles said in a low tone, "You should have told me."

"Would it have made a difference?"

Giles took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "It wouldn't change the deadline we're facing or the fact that Wesley at present is the only person who can help us," he admitted.

"Not much point in mentioning it then, was it? Besides, it was Wesley's choice." Angel looked at the closed door where they could hear the thumps of exercise equipment being pummeled, then back at Giles. "But understand this, Giles. I won't let him work himself back into the hospital. He nearly died a few days ago, and you can see the kind of shape he's in. Wesley may be the only person in this room who can translate Kaz-halg, but everyone here is going to have to step up to the plate. You're not putting all that pressure on him alone." Then Angel continued over to the door to the back room and stepped inside.

As soon as the door closed behind Angel, Xander turned to Wesley. "So what in the heck happened to you, Wesley? You look like road kill."

"Xander." Cordelia's voice cracked like a whip from across the room. "Our bags are still in the car. Since you're obviously not doing anything important, why don't you bring them in?"

"And Queen C is back in town." Xander got to his feet and made a show of bowing in Cordelia's direction. "Of course, your majesty. Whatever your majesty desires."

"Xander." Wesley's voice was very quiet, but something about it made everyone stop and look at him. "Her name is Cordelia."

Xander looked momentarily taken back, but then he leaned toward Wesley and replied. "Yeah. I've known that since kindergarten, newbie." As Xander turned around Giles made sure he saw the look of complete disapproval on his face and perhaps just a little bit of Ripper besides. It did give Xander a moment's pause, and he quickly left the shop to retrieve the bags without another word.

There was the sound of tins rattling from the counter. "What's all this herbal crap? Where's the English Breakfast tea? What kind of an Englishman do you call yourself, Giles?"

The sound of Wesley chuckling softly made Giles look at him in surprise. He didn't think he'd ever heard Wesley laugh. Wesley was watching Cordelia with open affection on his face. "She hasn't really grasped that Englishmen can drink more than one type of tea," he told Giles dryly.

Giles found his own mouth twitching in response. "The brown tin behind you, Cordelia. No, does that look brown to you? If you put that in Wesley's tea I won't be responsible for the results." When Wesley looked at him, eyebrows raised, he explained, "Pitcairn root."

"Not that tin, Cordelia," Wesley said firmly. "I happen to like my body hair just where it is."

Cordelia gave him a look as she pointedly picked up the correct tin and pulled out a teabag. "Eww, and TMI."

As Cordelia continued to clatter the tea implements at the counter, Giles looked at Wesley and said in a much kinder tone than he ever imagined using with the man, "You should have told me."

Wesley sat up a little straighter in his chair, then winced. "My injuries won't affect my ability to translate, I assure you."

Giles opened up his mouth to say something sharp to the other man, insulted that Wesley would think that was all he cared about when Wesley was obviously in a great deal of pain and should probably be resting, not working. Good lord, was this really the same man who'd been whining for an aspirin after being felled with one punch at graduation? But then he felt his indignation melt into guilt. What else would Wesley think, really? They'd let the man leave Sunnydale on a motorcycle without any of them showing one sign of regret to go off and hunt demons on his own, something that promised to get him killed in short order. Then when he did find out Wesley was in Los Angeles with Angel and Cordelia, the first time he bothered to contact him was to demand he come to Sunnydale because he was needed to translate something. He sighed, and said quietly, "No, I'm certain they won't."

"May I see the scroll?"

"Of course." Giles reached across the table and brought the scroll forward, carefully unrolling it for him.

Wesley took one look at the cramped lines of small, finely detailed characters on the page and blanched. "Oh dear," he breathed, "I'd forgotten how small it could be. My glasses were somewhat damaged, but I'll try to --"

"Magnifying glass," Willow said immediately. "Can you use a magnifying glass?"

"Yes, of course. That would work." Wesley looked relieved. "Do you have one?"

"I have quite a good one as it so happens," Giles told him.

Tara stood up. "I know where it is. I'll get it."

As she hurried off, Xander pushed the door open and dropped the bags to the floor. "What the heck did you pack in here, rocks?"

Wesley looked across at Giles. "I'm afraid we lost most of our research books at the office, but I had a few in my flat that I thought might be useful. And my notes from my previous translation at the Academy."

"Well done. I've got some here as well. We'll do everything we can to assist you, Wesley."

Tara carried over a large magnifier on a stand and sat it down carefully on the table. "Will this do?"

"Splendid," Wesley murmured, "thank you."

As Wesley adjusted the magnifier over the aged scroll, Xander walked over to where Cordelia was scooping sugar into Wesley's tea. "So, you've still got a thing for the English guy, don’t you?"

Giles looked quickly at Wesley, but he was already absorbed in the scroll and didn't appear to hear them.

"A thing?" Cordelia stopped stirring the tea and looked up at Xander. "I have the same 'thing' for Wesley that you do for Willow, Xander. Wesley is my friend. My best friend." Suddenly Xander had the end of a spoon poked hard against the center of his chest. "And if you or anyone else here at Loser Central tries to treat him the way you did when he was here the first time, you'll deal with me. Got it?"

Xander actually took a step back, which was apparently all the answer Cordelia needed as she dropped the spoon onto the counter, and carried the cup over to the table. Setting it down beside Wesley, she said, "Tylenol, Wesley."

Without looking up, Wesley held out his hand. She dropped the tablets into his palm and he automatically popped them into his mouth, then took a drink of tea before continuing to study the scroll. "Thank you, Cordelia."

Tara was smiling sweetly at the scene as if it were no more than she expected. But at least Xander and Willow had that wild-eyed, stunned look about them that one would expect from someone thinking they'd stumbled into an alternate reality. Since when did Cordelia truly care about anyone but herself? And when did she turn into someone who made tea and dispensed medicine and looked after someone who could realistically be classified as an invalid? And what had Angel been going on about? Giving orders and directives regarding Wesley as if Wesley was someone he was entitled to give orders about. It was true they may not have treated Wesley as well as they could have when he was in Sunnydale, but the worst that had happened to him here was a few moments of unconsciousness. He had left Sunnydale on his own two legs and without a scratch on him. For all his posturing, Angel apparently wasn't able to make the same claim. And Wesley. Giles tried, but he couldn't see the young, stodgy, priggish Watcher he'd known then in this soft-spoken, quietly dignified, and somewhat rumpled man who was currently peering through a magnifying glass at writings only he was able to understand. What had changed him? Was it his solitary time as a demon hunter? Had he found some backbone and self-confidence when he was on his own? Or was it... Giles couldn't quite bring himself to believe this new version of Wesley was the result of the months he'd spent with Angel and Cordelia. Neither of them had ever seemed particularly...nurturing. Yet they both seemed somewhat insanely protective of the young man.

"I know time is of the essence, Mr. Giles --"

"Please, Wesley, I think that time is long past. Just Giles."

Wesley nodded. "All right. Giles." He sounded as if he was trying out the sound on his tongue and was a little unsure of the results. "I know time is of the essence, but I would like to have a bit more information about how the scroll came to be here and what we're up against. When Angel returns perhaps you'll bring us up to speed?"

Giles had to give him credit for his tactful way of asking, not demanding, information and acknowledging Giles was the one in charge. "Of course."

As if waiting for their cue, the door to the back room opened and first Buffy and then Angel walked out. Buffy looked a bit subdued, and Angel had that look of sadness in his eyes he usually got when he was around her. As she walked over and sat down near Giles he saw Cordelia move over to stand behind Wesley and fold her arms as if daring Buffy to say anything. She really was acting most peculiarly.

Cordelia nodded at her. "Buffy."

Buffy nodded back, but she was staring at Wesley. "Cordelia."

Wesley offered her a tentative smile. "Hello, Buffy."

"Geez, Wesley, you've got even more bruises than the last time I saw you."

Cordelia gave her a narrow-eyed look and said in a steely voice, "Well, the last time you saw him he'd only been tortured for a few hours. This time he got caught in an exploding building."

There was a collective gasp in the room as everyone turned in bewilderment to stare at Wesley as he hissed, "Cordelia." It took Giles about two seconds to access his memories and realize the last time Buffy saw Wesley was when she went to Los Angeles after Faith's escape. He put the words 'torture' and 'Wesley' together in that scenario, not liking what he came up with one bit, and he gave Angel a look that promised they'd be talking later. Angel just grimaced and moved a step closer to Wesley who was giving Giles a pleading look. "Giles was just going to fill us in on what we're up against," he said somewhat hurriedly.

Giles nodded immediately, recognizing that look of distress in his eyes. "Of course. Wesley asked that I bring you all up to speed as to our situation and what we're facing." He proceeded to give a succinct account of how the Watcher's Council had managed to infiltrate a group composed of human mages and half-breed demons who worshipped a powerful ancient demon called Haach-mal. They'd somehow obtained an amulet that would open a vortex in Sunnydale on the next full moon that would release Haach-mal into their dimension. Unless they could find and stop the worshippers in time, their only alternative was to use the counter-spell in the scroll. While Wesley was working on the translation for the counter-spell with any help they could give him, they would also be researching for any information they could find on Haach-mal and his worshippers.

"Does the Council still have someone undercover in the group?" Angel asked.

"No, unfortunately their agent was discovered and killed, but he at least had been able to pass on the scroll before they found him out. The person he passed it on to managed to put the scroll into a package and mail it to me before he too was captured and killed." Giles paused and looked at Wesley, softening his voice. "I'm sorry, Wesley. I believe you knew him. Roger Hainsley."

"Roger?" Wesley cup rattled in its saucer as he sat it down quickly. "Oh, dear lord." As Cordelia tentatively touched his shoulder, he drew a deep breath. "Roger and I went through the Academy together. Played on the cricket team. I spent quite a few weekends at Roger's country home with him and his family." He looked up at Giles. "Roger's older brother, Geoffrey, was killed in the Ukraine last year."

Giles nodded. "Yes, I remember."

Wesley fingered his teacup and murmured, "I'll have to call his mother. She's lost both her sons now. Roger's father died when we were still in the Academy."

"Watcher?" Buffy asked quietly, sliding a look at Giles.

Wesley nodded. "Yes."

She lifted her chin and said firmly, "Then we'll just have to see to it he didn't die in vain, won't we?"

Giles saw Wesley's jaw tighten as he smoothed out the scroll in front of him. "Yes, we will."

Angel was frowning apparently at his own thoughts. "Is there any chance they know you have the scroll?"

Giles grimaced, and didn't look at Wesley when he answered. "I'm afraid Roger Hainsley didn't die quickly. They would have certainly attempted to secure the information, and it's entirely possible they used a spell on him to try to extract it."

"But Roger would have been prepared for that," Wesley said quickly.

Buffy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Counter-spell," Giles explained. "If he had time to use it. I'm afraid there's no way of knowing really. At least no one has shown up at my front door as yet."

"The night's still young," Angel pointed out grimly. "What's the plan for protection?"

Buffy got to her feet. "Us," she said simply. "You and me. I think we can handle anything human or half-demon they throw at us."

"Probably. But it would be nice to have a little warning if a dozen half-demons or humans with machine guns try to storm the place." Angel looked around him, and Giles knew what he was thinking. A round of machine gun fire wouldn't do much more than slow him down, but if anyone made it inside the Magic Box and began firing automatic weapons, a lot of the humans could die in a very short time.

"That's exactly what we said," Willow spoke up excitedly. "Tara and I have done some research and we found a spell. It would be like an early warning alert system, like knocking over empty bottles inside a door if someone comes in."

"Will it also keep out the slavering half-demons and humans with machine guns?" Cordelia demanded.

"No, a protection spell of that magnitude would drain Willow and Tara," Wesley explained, "and it would need constant reinforcement. May I see the spell you plan to use?"

Tara obediently opened one of the books to the page she had marked and turned it around for him to see. He blinked at it, then moved it under the magnifying glass. "This would place a circle around the Magic Box, and it would be exactly as Willow described. She and Tara would sense it if it were breached." He looked at them. "I have a suggestion," he said hesitantly. "For a way to strengthen it and expand it. That is, if you think --"

"Oh yes," Willow broke in. "We're all for strengthening and expanding." Tara nodded agreement.

"All right then." He reached for a legal pad of paper and picked up his pen, writing quickly but neatly as they watched. When he was finished, he slid the pad over to them. "That spell would be more of a bubble, encasing the Magic Box above and below as well. The only flaw in the other spell is that it's like a fence, and something or someone would have to literally cross that line for you to sense it. This way, the whole building would be covered. I'm not too worried about below, but the roof could be vulnerable."

"Air strike?" Xander asked incredulously. Then he seemed to remember something, perhaps those military memories he could still access, and nodded. "Good thinking."

Willow and Tara were reading the spell avidly. "This is good," Willow murmured. "This is very good. I like the bubble. And we have all the ingredients right here." She looked up, wide-eyed. "You just had all that in your head?"

"The Academy requires you to have a lot of things in your head," Wesley said dryly. "Some of them a great deal more useful than others."

"Well, we'll just get what we need and get working on that spell. One bubble coming up," Willow said brightly, and she and Tara moved off to gather their supplies.

Angel was prowling restlessly back and forth. Obviously the information about the possibility of the Haach-mal worshippers tracking the scroll here had set him on edge. "Okay, we'll have the early warning spell, but we also need to reinforce the windows and doors and check for any weaknesses."

Buffy faced off against him, stopping him in his tracks. "Obviously. We know what to do, Angel. You're here as back-up. Giles and I will hand out the assignments and come up with the strategy --"

"You asked us to come here, remember? That doesn’t make me back-up. That puts my team on the front line along with yours."

"This is Sunnydale, not Los Angeles. The Hellmouth is my turf --"

"Oh for heaven's sake, will you two stop pawing the ground." Cordelia's heels clacked loudly as she walked between them and glared at them both. "We're in this together, and we don't have time for egos, so get over yourselves. Right now there's no Team Scooby and no Team Angel Investigations. We're all in this together." She turned around to face the rest of them. "All right. Wesley and Giles are working on the scroll, because obviously they're the only two who have a prayer at that Kaz-hag thing. Willow and Tara will do the spell and then they can research those demony worshipping guys and the amulet. Buffy and Angel will do the rounds and make sure the place is secure." She looked at Giles. "Do we have food? Blankets and sleeping bags and whatever?"

Still blinking a little at the way Cordelia had coolly taken charge, it took Giles a moment to answer. "We could use some more food, and more blankets if we're going to be here a few days."

She nodded. "Right. Xander and I will take care of the supplies." She held her hand out imperiously to Angel and wiggled her fingers. "Car keys."

Xander stood up. "Hey, why do I have to go with Cordelia? Why can't Angel go with her? Or Buffy?"

"Because Angel and Buffy can't leave here, doofus," Cordelia answered, retrieving her purse. "They've got people to protect."

Giles pulled his house keys out of his pocket and handed them to Xander. "You can get more blankets at my place. It wouldn't be a bad idea to bring some of the weapons from my weapons box as well. We're pretty well armed as it is, but it can't hurt." He saw Angel handing over money to Cordelia, and he did the same to Xander. "Try not to bring back only bags of potato chips and Nachos."

"Don't worry. Healthy food all around," Cordelia assured him, deftly plucking the bills from Xander's fingers.

As they turned away, Giles took them both by the elbow and leaned in, his voice low. "Whatever the problem is between you two," he said evenly, "work it out before you come back here." Cordelia and Xander looked at one another, then Cordelia turned on her heel and strode out of the Magic Box, leaving Xander with no option but to trail along after.

As Cordelia pulled Angel's car out into the street, she said, "Okay, Giles' house to pick up blankets, grocery store to get food, and drug store to get some more Tylenol and ice packs for Wesley. Just the one isn't going to cut it."

Xander stretched his legs and looked at her. "Okay, what's the deal with you? When did you get all Ms. Organization Skills?"

She glanced over at him. "I run an office, Xander. I have to know how to organize. I do the billing, I do the advertising, I come up with ideas how to get new clients, I meet with the new clients. It's what I do."

"I thought you went off to LA to be an actress. What happened with that?"

"It takes time to break into show business," she explained, not as sharply upset as she would have been once upon a time by that fact. "But I did a play," she said excitedly, "and I was the hands washing dishes for Sunnymaid Liquid Detergent. That was a national commercial."

"I thought I recognized those perfectly manicured nails."

Cordelia gave him a little swat. "You did not."

Xander grinned. "Okay, I didn't. But that's great, Cordy. You'll get your big break."

"Yeah, it doesn’t happen overnight." Then in the same breath, she demanded, "Why were you such an ass to Wesley?"

Xander shrugged, looking out the side window. "It was a knee jerk reaction. He was a jerk, I reacted."

Cordelia pulled abruptly over to the sidewalk in front of Giles' apartment and slammed on the brakes, forcing Xander to throw out both hands to brace himself. "How was Wesley a jerk?"

"He's not a jerk now. Or at least he's not acting like one. So far. But he was Jerk Overachiever when he was here the last time. He won a badge in Jerkness. Thus the reaction."

"Well, I'm glad to see you have such an open mind, Xander."

"Are you saying he's not a jerk?"

"No, Wesley can be a jerk. All men can be jerks. What's your point?"

Xander looked confused and said a little uncertainly, "I'm not sure I have one."

Cordelia snorted. "What a surprise." She got out of the car and walked to Giles' door with Xander at her heels. As he unlocked the door, she ordered, "You get the weapons, I'll get the blankets."

Once the trunk was filled with blankets and weapons, Cordelia turned the car in the direction of the grocery store.

Without prelude, Xander said, "Okay, I need to know what the deal is with Wesley."

"I told you what the deal is. Are you suffering from amnesia?"

"He's your friend, your best friend. He's the Willow in your life. I get that. I want to know what the deal is with torture and explosions. I mean, 'torture', 'explosion', 'Wesley'. Three words I never thought I'd say together in a sentence." He shifted in his seat so he was turned facing her. "I mean, torture? Who would torture Wesley? What would be the point? From what I remember, if you just look at him cross-eyed he screamed like a woman."

Cordelia compressed her lips. He didn't scream this time. Abruptly she bit out, "Psycho Slayer."

"Faith?"

"She knocked me out, then kidnapped him, tied him to a chair and tortured him for hours."

"Jesus." Xander sank back against the seat and sounded like he'd had the breath knocked out of him. "Why? I mean, okay, he screwed up when he was her Watcher, but --"

"She wanted to get Angel's attention." The gears groaned in agony as she angrily downshifted to stop at a red light. "She got it." Turning to look at Xander, she asked, "I suppose Buffy didn't mention that the last time she came back from L.A."

"No. No, she didn't." Xander was silent for a long time, and then asked in a more subdued voice. "What about now? The explosion?"

"Like I said. Someone blew up our office, and Wesley was in it. Angel saved him, and then Wesley saved me."

"Saved you?" Xander asked sharply. "From what?"

Cordelia accelerated slowly through the green light. She thought briefly about telling Xander about the visions, about the burden she carried, about the madness that had assaulted her and put her in a psychiatric ward, then said merely, "It's a long story." The visions were her burden, and they were part of her life in Los Angeles with Angel and Wesley. Xander wasn't a part of that, and somehow it didn't seem right to share it.

"Are you happy, Cord?"

"Am I happy?" It was funny; Cordelia hadn't really given it any thought, but Xander's question made her consider it as she pulled into a parking space at the grocery store and turned off the engine. She thought of what her life had been like here in Sunnydale, how she'd been Queen C of Sunnydale High with a following of Cordettes. That life seemed so long ago, and so different from the one she had now. Back then it was all about being popular and wearing the right clothes and being seen with the right people. But now she had the visions and was a part of Angel Investigations and had a real purpose in life. Angel depended on her to be his link to the Powers That Be. It was her visions that sent Angel and Wesley out to save people, and what she did was important. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she had a purpose. But that wasn't all of it. She knew now that many of the people she had lumped into the 'friend' category when she was in Sunnydale were merely hangers-on who only wanted to be around her because she was popular. She still considered the Scoobies friends because of all they'd gone through together, and she and Xander had a past that would always be part of her, but her relationship with Angel and Wesley was different. She had told them once that she knew she had two people she could trust absolutely with her life, and that was new. She thought of Angel, a Champion, who had proven time and again he would do anything to keep her safe. And Wesley, who had held her hand and stayed by her side when she'd been impregnated with demon spawn, who always tried to protect her, whether it was from a faux-Angelus or Faith, the psycho Slayer, the person she could confide in without fear of judgment no matter what she told him, and the person who had climbed out of a hospital bed and into a wheelchair to do what needed to be done to free her of magic-induced madness. She'd never known friendships like the ones she had with Angel and Wesley. For all her working loosely with the Scoobies and that romance with Xander, she knew none of them had ever loved her the way those two did. And she loved them back, would do anything to keep them safe. "Yeah, I'm happy," she said finally, smiling to herself, thinking how good it was to have put the question to herself and come up with that answer. "My life may not have turned out exactly like I thought it would when I was in high school, but I'm happy. I do important work and I've got good people in my life who care about me, and I care about them." She opened the door to the car. "Now, come on, let's get that food, and we're only buying healthy stuff and tea."

The translation of the Kaz-halg was going excruciatingly slowly. Giles was certain some of that was due to the fact that Wesley was obviously in constant discomfort, and if the way he was rubbing his temple was any indication, probably had a raging headache as well. Still he persevered, squinting through the magnifying glass, consulting reference books, and then carefully writing out a translation of a few words at a time. Giles found there was very little he could do to help, which was frustrating, while Willow and Tara took on the task of keeping Wesley supplied with tea and fetching books when he asked for them.

Wesley took a drink of the fresh cup of tea at his elbow and looked at the girls in surprise. "This is different."

"It's orangey-spicy herbal tea that Giles had," Willow said quickly, then looked anxious. "If you don't like it --"

"No, no, it's very good. Very refreshing." Wesley took another drink. "I'll have to get some for the office."

"I thought you were only allowed to have English Breakfast tea," Tara said teasingly.

Giles and Willow both looked at her in surprise. It was so rare for Tara to overcome her natural reticence to tease someone, especially someone who was a total stranger. Wesley seemed to recognize that as well because he lowered his voice to a whisper and replied gravely, "Well, as an Englishman it's true we are only allowed to drink certain types of tea. But if you promise not to report me to the British Tea Council...?"

Tara giggled, and Giles and Willow transferred their stares to Wesley. In all the time Wesley had been in Sunnydale, Giles had never suspected he even possessed a sense of humor. Certainly he had never responded to any teasing like... Giles checked himself sharply. The only teasing Wesley had received in Sunnydale during his tenure as Watcher had been more along the lines of mocking. He didn't recall anyone other than Cordelia treating him as anything other than a rather supercilious Watcher replacement who wasn't welcome. And again he was left wondering what -- or who -- had wrought these changes in Wesley from the person he'd known back then.

As Wesley sat up in his chair to reach across the table for a book he'd discarded earlier, he suddenly froze and a sound caught in his throat. Angel was at his side almost instantly, even though Giles had never seen him enter the room.

"I think it's time for a break," Angel murmured, gently easing him back into his chair.

"It was just a spasm," Wesley said quickly, clearly expecting them all to believe that even though he'd gone dead white under the bandages on his face.

"Which pretty much proves my point," Angel told him mildly. "Come on, I think it's time you spend a little quality time with that ice bag Cordelia packed."

"Shouldn't she be back now?" Wesley fretted. "They've been gone an awfully long time. This is a Hellmouth you know, Angel."

"A Hellmouth they both grew up in," Buffy reminded him, coming to stand on the other side of Wesley's chair. "Don't worry, they know how to stay out of trouble."

"I'll get the ice bag," Willow volunteered.

"And I'll fix up a place for him over by the fire," Tara said, quickly moving off to gather up the thickest duvet she could find.

"Angel, I can't stop now. The translation is just the first part. Then there's the code to deal with."

"Wes, you're not going to be able to deal with anything if your back gets so bad you can't even sit in a chair."

Wesley opened his mouth as if to argue, then just sighed and gazed up at Angel, looking very young to Giles' eyes. "All right. Just for a few minutes."

"Twenty minutes for the ice," Willow announced, holding up the ice pack. "That's the rule."

Wesley looked at her. "Whose rule?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, actually, it's the recommended time on the ice bag, but it's Cordelia's rule too. She told me before she left to make sure you stayed on it for twenty minutes."

Angel slid a hand under one arm and nodded to Buffy who did the same. "Okay, here we go, easy."

Even as gentle as Angel and Buffy were with him, he gave a little grunt of pain as they got him to his feet, and with their help he shuffled over to the fireplace and looked down in dismay at the comforter Tara had arranged on the floor. "If I get down there, I'll never get back up."

"Hey, Slayer strength, vampire strength," Buffy reminded him cheerfully.

"Let us worry about that, Wes. You ready?"

Wesley looked down at the floor which must have seemed a very long way away to someone whose back muscles had seized up. "I don't quite know how we're going to --"

"Trust exercises," Willow said suddenly. When they looked at her, she waved at Wesley's body. "It's like in acting class when they teach you to just fall backwards and trust the person behind you to catch you. Just let yourself go limp and fall back. If you're all tense, it'll just hurt more; this way your muscles will be all relaxed."

Wesley looked uncertain. "I'm not sure I can --"

"You don't trust me to catch you?" Angel asked, sounding a little hurt.

Wesley turned his head and gave him an odd look, then closed his eyes and let himself go limp. Angel neatly caught him and lowered him carefully onto the duvet, where Tara quickly placed the ice bag once she saw where he would be lying. "Oh, bloody hell," he groaned as his back made contact with the cold pack.

"I'm sorry!" Tara's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I thought --"

"No, no." Wesley flailed with his right hand for a moment before he caught hers and gave it a little squeeze. "It feels quite marvelous actually. It's just that first initial moment of contact. It's always a shock." He sighed and the lines of pain around his mouth actually eased as his eyelids fluttered shut. "Twenty minutes. You'll wake me if I fall asleep."

"Twenty minutes," Tara promised and gently placed his hand on his chest while Angel draped a cover over him.

Giles watched all this as if he were watching a play with characters he'd just been introduced to, rather than watching a scene with people he thought he knew. Tara moved off to rejoin Willow at a nearby table to pick up their research, and he heard her whisper, "He's so sweet." Willow nodded her agreement although she looked as puzzled as Giles felt. When he realized Angel, Wesley and Cordelia were coming here, he expected to see the people he knew from Sunnydale. Cordelia had been the definition of self-absorbed back then, a young woman who cared about her status, popularity and clothes to the exclusion of anything else. Now apparently she could step up and take charge of difficult situations, accept responsibility, and showed the kind of care and concern for Wesley that Giles had long seen Buffy, Xander and Willow show for each other. Wesley, with a few brief spurts of decency, had shown himself to be a jumped up little twit with a supercilious attitude and no talent whatsoever for getting along with people during his stay in Sunnydale. But the Wesley he was seeing today was someone who Angel and Cordelia were obviously very fond of, and he was obviously very fond of them. Not simply a working arrangement then as he'd assumed. On top of that, in the space of a very few hours he'd already seen more of the kind of knowledge and expertise Wesley possessed than the entire time he was on the Hellmouth. Wesley could have been quite useful here back then if he'd ... Giles' mouth twisted. Or if they had taken the time to get to know him instead of automatically treating him like the enemy. He watched as Angel straightened the cover over Wesley and then walked away. He was beginning to put the pieces together and formulate a theory as to what the key had been to expose this shiny new, clever, efficient and clearly happy Wesley Wyndam-Pryce to the world. Despite Angel's relationship with Buffy, Giles had never seen him as anything but a loner, but apparently his days -- or years -- as a loner were over. He had evidently found a place with two humans who trusted him and believed in him, and he clearly felt his responsibility to them quite keenly going by the way he talked so possessively of 'his team' and hovered so protectively over Wesley. It was as if Giles' entire world view had been fed into a kaleidoscope and someone had rotated the tube.

Giles noted with approval that Tara and Willow had returned to their research and he did the same. He was peripherally aware of Angel and Buffy moving around the Magic Box, re-checking windows and doors, and of Angel peering out the window more and more anxiously as Cordelia and Xander didn't return. Willow and Tara were deep in a whispered conference as to whether or not to wake Wesley -- Tara's plaintive, 'But I promised' versus Willow's, 'But he really looks like he needs the rest' -- when both girls suddenly stopped and sat up straight. "Oh! Someone's coming," Willow said urgently.

When the door burst open, Xander and Cordelia stared at the array of weapons pointed at them, and Xander said, "Nothing says 'welcome' like a loaded crossbow."

Cordelia shrugged as she continued inside, "It's the Hellmouth, what can you expect?" As she passed Wesley, who was blinking drowsily awake from all the noise, she said brightly, "Oh good, you're awake." She rattled a plastic bag at him. "There's food." As she stepped behind the counter, setting filled bags on top, she continued meaningfully, "The trunk is full of weapons and blankets, Angel."

Looking nothing like a two hundred plus year old vampire who had once been the Scourge of Europe and more like someone who was used to taking directives from Cordelia, Angel simply headed out the door as Giles' kaleidoscope made another turn.

Willow and Tara were snuggled together on a blanket getting some much needed sleep, Xander and Cordelia were dutifully going through books looking for any mention of Haach-mal and how he could be fought it if became necessary, Wesley was back at work on his translation, and Giles was thinking about succumbing to a nice short nap, when Angel said suddenly, "I think I should go out and see if I can find out anything. If those worshippers are in Sunnydale, maybe I can get a lead on them."

Giles shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise, Angel. We don’t want word to spread that you're in town. At the moment, we don't know if Haach-mal's cult realize we have the counter-spell, but if it became known you were in town and asking about them, I think that would give them cause to suspect, and that's an advantage we don't want them to have if we can help it." He turned to Buffy, who was sitting on a table and listlessly turning pages in a book. "But I do think Buffy should go out on patrol as usual. I think we need to give the impression that everything is normal so no suspicions are raised."

He expected Buffy to jump at the idea, but instead she looked around the room uneasily. "Are you sure that's a good idea? We'd be stronger if Angel I were both here."

"I realize that, but I think it's important to keep up appearances. And we do have Willow and Tara's early warning system to put us on guard. We know now that it works."

"The tingle alarm," Buffy said dryly as she slipped nimbly to the floor, referring to Willow's description of feeling all tingly when Xander and Cordelia breached the spell bubble. "Okay, I'll patrol, but I'll hit areas nearby just in case. Shouldn't be anything suspicious about that."

"I could go with her," Xander volunteered, hastily stuffing a book back on the shelf.

"Not that I don't appreciate the company, but I'd feel better if everyone stayed here. If those demony guys do track that scroll to Giles, we're going to need you here, Xander. Everyone, keep your weapons handy."

"Buffy, here, take this." Cordelia dug into an overnight bag and brought out a cell phone. "The battery should be fine. It's Angel's; he never turns it on."

No one pointed out the obvious, that if they were suddenly invaded by a cult intent on murdering them, they probably wouldn't have time to dial a phone number, so Buffy just smiled and said, "Cool," tucking it in her jacket pocket before heading for the door.

When the door closed behind her, both Willow and Tara sat up suddenly, wide-eyed and awake. Willow said anxiously, "Someone's --"

"That was just Buffy leaving on patrol," Giles assured them. "And at least we know now that the alarm will wake you up if you're asleep," he added somewhat cheerfully.

Willow and Tara looked at one another, then both flopped back down and pulled a blanket over their heads.

Angel looked longingly at the closed door, then sighed and began checking doors and windows again. Cordelia opened the door to the small refrigerator where Giles kept inventory needing refrigeration and where Angel's supply of blood and Wesley's ice packs were now also stored, and pulled out one of the frozen gel packs. "Come on, research boy," she said briskly, poking Wesley on the shoulder with her index finger. "Time to make nice with Mr. Ice Pack again."

Wesley wrote a few words down, then went back to peering intently through the magnifying glass. "Cordelia, I'm at a very crucial part in the translation."

"It's all crucial, Wesley, including you being able to walk like a normal human being again." Cordelia folded her arms and refused to be ignored. "If you can tell me that following your physical therapist's orders and stretching out your muscles and using an ice pack to reduce the inflammation hasn't helped, then you can go right ahead and sit there for the next twenty-four hours straight and I won't say a word." She waited expectantly as Angel quickly looked away to hide a smirk.

Giles could see from the expression on Wesley's face that he was considering telling her exactly that, but then he laid down his pen in capitulation and sighed. "Yes, Cordelia, as a matter of fact it has helped, and I’m feeling a great deal better because of it."

"Of course you are," she said smugly. "Which means I was right, and I rule. Now, come on."

Dutifully, Wesley slowly pushed himself to his feet, and Giles could see that he was indeed moving much better than he had been before, showing only a slight grimace of discomfort as he straightened his back. Giles still winced in sympathy as he walked slowly over to the duvet in front of the fire where Cordelia waited with the ice pack. As Angel took a step toward him, Wesley held up a hand. "I think I can actually do it myself this time, which is a vast improvement on the first time we tried this." He slowly lowered himself down while Angel and Cordelia watched, both poised to make a move if he needed help, and carefully stretched out on his back. Cordelia worked the frozen gel bag under him, wriggling it around until he hissed, "There." Then he slowly straightened his legs and sighed. As was the case every other time he laid down, he was asleep within minutes.

Over the next two days they settled into a routine that was both comforting and stressful. It was a comfort that everyone fell into their roles without the rivalry or contention Giles expected between the two teams. Angel and Buffy obviously felt most protective of their own teams and would occasionally 'paw the ground' as Cordelia had put it, but all in all they were working well with each other and neither one was trying to usurp the authority of the other. Everyone was sleeping in shifts now so there were always at least two people awake and working, with Angel usually in the background somewhere silently moving through the rooms of the Magic Box. Giles noticed that Wesley took full advantage of Cordelia's naps to work straight through without a break. That is, until Tara told him if he didn't at least get up and walk around to stretch his back muscles, she'd have no choice but, in her words, to 'rat him out' to Cordelia. Giles, Wesley, Angel and Xander, who were the ones awake, all looked at her in shock, but the girl held her ground and put on what Willow would call a 'resolved face' and refused to be moved. When Giles expected the obviously over-tired and stressed Wesley to snap back at her at the very least, the young man gently patted her hand and got to his feet. It was Xander, surprisingly enough who came up with the idea of strapping the gel bag to the back of the chair so Wesley could get the benefit of ice on his muscles, and fixed up a contraption so they could easily slip a fresh ice bag in and out. After that, Wesley was much more amenable to taking short breaks and walking around the Magic Box storeroom to keep his muscles stretched. Apparently, like most Watchers, Wesley was used to getting by on little sleep when necessary and seemed able to pace himself, but Giles still noticed Angel keeping a close eye on him, and he had no doubt the vampire was ready to step in if he thought Wesley was pushing himself too hard. He was just glad he wasn't the one responsible for that young man's well-being. Angel himself had taken to prowling around the exterior at night because neither Giles nor Buffy could come up with a good reason why he shouldn't, and he was too restless to stay inside all the time. Buffy kept up her patrols at night close to the Magic Box. There wasn't much vampire activity going on, but whether that was a good sign or a bad one, no one knew.

At the same time it was stressful in that the deadline was fast approaching for them to either complete the translation of the counter-spell or find and defeat the cult of Haach-mal. The full moon wouldn't wait either way, and the time limit was down to forty-eight hours.

"Oh." Wesley sat back in his chair, frowning, which got the attention of Giles, Cordelia, Willow and Buffy. Everyone else was sleeping, wrapped up in blankets on the floor.

"What is it?" Giles asked uneasily.

Wesley looked across the table at him, and Giles noted how bloodshot his eyes were and how dark the circles under his eyes. His hair stuck up in all directions from where he had been running his hands through it, and he looked like someone who needed to be fed a hot meal and then tucked into bed for twelve hours of sleep. "Are you certain about your information regarding the full moon?" Wesley asked hesitantly.

"Did you find something to contradict that?" he asked with a sinking heart. "The information was obtained from the undercover informant and passed on. There's nothing in writing."

"What've you got, Wes?" Angel was leaning over Wesley's chair, but Giles had never seen him get up from the floor.

Wesley pointed to a line at the bottom on the scroll. "Right here. This isn't part of the counter-spell apparently. More like a footnote, and traditionally, those are not coded. The ink is very faded, but these two words here translate as 'heavy disk'. I think that refers to the phase of the moon. It could mean full moon, of course, or it could mean --"

"The phase before or after the full moon," Giles finished, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Oh good lord. Yes, of course, that's very possible."

"So is this good news or bad news?" Cordelia demanded.

"It could be either, or neither," Wesley replied. "It could still mean the full moon, which is forty-eight hours away, or it could mean the Waxing or the Waning Gibbous phases."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Pretend like we don't know what you just said and explain it to us."

"The day before or after the full moon," Angel supplied, frowning at the paper in front of Wesley. "When you look at it, it looks like a full moon, but it's not. Which means we may still be on the same deadline, or we may have gained a day or lost a day."

Cordelia huffed. "Why can't these scrolls ever say what they mean? It's like tenth grade Lit class all over again." As everyone stared at her, she said impatiently, "Oh come on. You show me one person who read Beowulf and knew what it was about."

That left everyone in silence until Wesley gave his head a sharp shake as if to clear it and Giles asked, "So you've finished the translation, Wesley?"

"Yes, just."

Willow patted him on the shoulder with a big smile. "Way to go, Wesley."

Wesley ducked his head. "I'm afraid that's only half the job done. It still needs to be decoded, and we're running out of time." He looked up at Giles. "Have you found anything helpful on Haach-mal? Any weaknesses in case we need to fight him?"

Giles indicated the piece of paper in front of him only half-filled with references he'd found to the demon. "No, and frankly, I don't take that as a good sign. We know very little about him and that means we don't know what we're up against."

"I think we're going to have to break cover," Angel said grimly. "We can't just sit here and wait for the cult to set up shop in Sunnydale. We need to know if they're here."

Buffy nodded. "I agree. I say I go shake Willy the Snitch and see if he knows anything." She shrugged. "Maybe going out there and spreading the word will make them show themselves."

Xander threw his covers aside and stood up. "And I'd like to help with that shaking. I like how Buffy bounces Willy off walls. It's very entertaining."

Giles sighed, replacing his glasses on his nose. He still hated the idea of tipping off the cult they were on to them, but he had to admit they were running out of options and it was time for desperate measures. "I think we need to work on a worst case scenario, which means we move the deadline up twenty-four hours. Wesley, do you think you'll be able to decode that counter-spell in time?" Even as he asked it he was kicking himself. Of course there was no way Wesley would know if he would have the decoding done by then, and he could see from the expression on Angel's face that the vampire didn't appreciate his utter stupidity.

The younger man shook his head. "I don't know," he said honestly, and he looked absolutely miserable at the confession.

"Just do your best, Wes. That's all anyone can ask," Angel told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to be working on Plan B." He turned to Buffy. "Can you be back by sundown? I'd like a turn out there."

Buffy shrugged. "Sure. Why should I have all the fun?" She waved at Xander, who was now holding a baseball bat and testing the weight of it. "Come on, Xander. Let's go visit our favorite snitch and see how he bounces."

The day passed in a blur of ever increasing tension. After obtaining no useful information from Willy, they visited other demon bars and checked out abandoned buildings where there had been demon activity in the past, but still returned empty handed. Then it was Angel's turn, and he returned so near sunrise that Wesley and Cordelia were openly fretting and his clothes were smoking by the time he dashed through the door. And they still had nothing.

The day of the worst case scenario deadline was cloudy and cool for southern California. It seemed to match the mood of everyone inside the Magic Box. Everyone, including Cordelia and Tara, had given up trying to reason with Wesley about taking some time to rest. As Cordelia told Angel, "All we're getting out of him are grunts."

It was Willow who told them all they should knock it off and leave him alone. "It's like studying for the biggest test of your life. You can't think about anything else, and if you make him lie down he won't be able to rest anyhow. He'll just be worrying about the time he's losing. I say we just make him tea and stop nagging him. There'll be time enough to collapse when this is all over."

"Or when we're all sucked into a vortex and eaten by demons," Cordelia pointed out.

Willow smiled brightly. "See, that's the kind of positive thinking I like to hear. I've missed that since you left Sunnydale, Cordelia."

It was actually very sensible advice, and Giles was glad they took it. As difficult as it was to witness Wesley's further physical decline as he continued to push himself, they really had no choice. He was Plan A, and so far Plan B seemed to be nothing more than wishful thinking on their part. So they continued their research into Haach-mal, Wesley continued the intricate and time-consuming process of decoding the translation, and Angel paced the floor, waiting for Buffy and Xander to return so he could take his turn outside.

The sudden ringing of the phone on the counter made them all jump. Cordelia, who was closest, snatched it up. "Magic Box. What? Are you sure?" She held the receiver out to Giles. "Buffy thinks she found them."

Giles reached the counter in two strides, pressing the phone to his ear. "Buffy? You found them?" He listened while she quickly filled him in. She and Xander had widened their patrol area and stumbled across a number of cloaked figures gathering in a little-used park on the edge of Sunnydale. It would certainly be the ideal spot, giving them an unobstructed view of the moon, a necessity for the rite, and the markings Buffy described on their robes matched the symbols for Haach-mal. "We're on our way." He hung up and quickly explained the situation to the others as he chose a sword from the stash of weapons in a corner. When he turned around Angel was already brandishing his large broadsword, Cordelia was digging around behind the counter for something, and Wesley was pushing himself to his feet.

Instead of pointing out to the man he was in no condition to enter into a fight, Angel firmly pushed him back down into his chair and told him, "We need you to keep working on that counter-spell, Wes. You've just become Plan B."

As Angel turned for the door, Wesley snagged his coat sleeve. "Angel, remember some of them are human."

"Not planning on killing any humans unless they don't give me a choice," Angel told him evenly.

"But Cordelia," he whispered anxiously.

"I don't plan on killing any humans either," Cordelia told him cheerfully, hefting Xander's baseball bat in her hands. "But I can sure see to it they're limping out of there."

"For heaven's sake, be careful."

"I'll look out for her," Angel assured him, heading for the door. "You look after Willow and Tara."

"Yes, of course."

Wesley watched the door close behind Angel, Cordelia and Giles. Willow walked over and carefully locked it, then walked back and sat down beside him. "I'm sure they'll be fine," she told him with a reassuring smile. "They've got Buffy and Angel. A Slayer and a Vampire With a Soul. Not to be sneezed at."

"I know. It's just..." He grimaced, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle in the paper in front of him.

"You're not used to being left behind," Tara said gently.

"No," he agreed quietly, "I'm not." Angel, of course, went out alone whenever he pleased, but Cordelia only ever went with him when Wesley was along too, and Angel trusted him to look out for her. Of course the reverse was true as well; there were many times Wesley had been on the ground staring into the yellow eyes of a vampire only to have it dissolve into dust thanks to Cordelia seeing he was in trouble and running over with a stake. But of course, Willow was right, both Buffy and Angel would be there, and Xander and Giles. Surely that was enough people to keep an eye on Cordelia.

"Wesley, would you like some tea?"

Wesley came out of his thoughts and blinked at Willow. It was obvious from the tone of her voice and the worried look on her face that this wasn't the first time she'd asked him that question. The constant flow of caffeine in his system was giving him a headache, but it was doing the job of keeping him going when all he really wanted to do was put his head down and sleep, and besides, cutting off the caffeine at this point would probably give him an even bigger headache. "That would be lovely, thank you."

Willow started to get up, then paused. "I suppose you want the high octane?" she asked, indicating mild disapproval.

If it had been Cordelia, she would have simply put the caffeine-free teabag in his cup without asking, but Willow was such a soft touch he felt bad about giving her the pleading gaze that would have bounced off Cordelia. "It won't be for much longer," he said apologetically. "And with any luck, Angel and Buffy will be able to take care of the cult, and we won't have to worry about this translation at all."

"And then you can get some proper rest."

Wesley looked at Tara's somber face and gave her a smile. "We Watcher-trained types are a lot tougher than we look," he said dryly. "Although when this is over, I'll happily sleep for a week."

From the counter where she was making tea, Willow announced, "When this is all over, I think we should throw a big party. We can have it right here at the Magic Box. I'm sure Giles won't mind." She warmed to her subject, her face lighting up with eagerness. "And we can have food and music and we can all talk and catch up with Angel and Cordelia, and we can all get to know you better, Wesley."

Getting to know him had never been very high on the priority list of the Scoobies, but Wesley didn't point that out to Willow. Willow and Tara had been nothing but sweet and supportive of him since he arrived, and the rest of them had been cordial, so saw no reason to crush her enthusiasm. Besides, Tara was watching him with a hopeful expression on her face, and he found he was pretty much helpless against Tara's hope and Willow's enthusiasm. He'd have to close his eyes and block his ears in order to say 'no' to either one of them, and even then he wasn't convinced he could manage it. "That sounds very nice, Willow." He wasn't sure how nice Angel and Cordelia would find it, but if Willow had her heart set on a party, then he'd do his best to convince them they should all stay and try to make it a success.

They both beamed at him as Willow brought over his tea and sat it carefully by his elbow. "We weren't very nice to you when you were here before. I think we'd all kind of like to make up for that."

The last thing Wesley had expected was an apology or even an acknowledgement of the embarrassment that was his time in Sunnydale as Watcher, and he quickly looked back down at his translation. "There were...extenuating circumstances," he said carefully. "I was sent to replace Buffy's Watcher, and I understand now the deep bond that exists between Buffy and Mr. Giles. That wasn't something I fully appreciated then."

"They're definitely tight," Willow agree, "but I doubt you expected open hostility or for no one to even give you a chance."

He was aware of Willow's sympathetic gaze on him, and he finally put down his pen with a little sigh. "No," he admitted finally, "I didn't. I thought the fact that the Council had sanctioned me as Buffy's Watcher was all the authority I needed. I realize now I could have handled things better."

"It sounds like everyone could have handled things better," Tara said softly. "Not just you."

Willow nodded firmly. "Equal blame all around. Buffy and Giles were both angry, but they shouldn't have taken it out on you. It wasn't your fault you were sent here to be her Watcher. So it wasn't you, Wesley. I don't think Buffy would have accepted anyone the Council sent to replace Giles."

Although Wesley had come to that conclusion himself much later, it did seem to lift an old weight from his shoulders to hear Willow say it. He nodded. "I agree. Still...there was Faith." He was proud he was able to say her name without flinching or without the flash of anger he had felt for so long after her visit to Los Angeles. "I badly mishandled that."

Willow looked at him with solemn eyes. "Faith was a lost cause before you got here," she told him. "I don't like to say that about anyone, but in her case, I think it's true. Maybe Angel could have gotten through to her back then, or maybe not. Maybe she had to go through everything she did until she reached the point where she was ready to admit what she'd done and accept she had to pay for it. We'll never know, but I don’t think you should beat yourself up over it."

Perhaps not, since Faith had beaten him up over it enough for both of them. Still, when he looked into Willow's sympathetic face and huge soft eyes, he remembered with a sharp pang that he had been ready to sacrifice this sweet girl at one point. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could rub the memories away of his time here as Watcher as well. He really didn't look back on his time in Sunnydale with any fondness at all. "Willow, there's something I need to tell you, something you need to know about me. When you were held captive by the Mayor and he needed the Box of Gavrok for his ascension --"

"I know," she interrupted.

He looked sharply at her. "You know?"

"Buffy told me afterwards. Or rather, she ranted afterwards. I know you didn't think they should have traded the Box for me."

"Willow, I didn't know you then." He shook his head at the sheer stupidity of that argument. "That's no excuse, I know. But I honestly believed that if we gave that Box to the Mayor we'd be condemning thousands of people to..." He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Who am I kidding? I told the rest of them we should come up with another plan, but I didn't do anything to come up with one myself. If it had been left to me, you would have died."

"Luckily there was another plan and it all worked out."

Wesley lowered his arms to the table and stared at her calm face. Tara was gripping her hand tightly, but there was nothing but serenity in Willow's eyes. "How can you...forgive me like that?"

"There is no forgiveness." He flinched at her words and pulled back, but she immediately leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "I meant, I never blamed you, Wesley, so there was nothing to forgive." She gave his hand a little squeeze. "But it sounds like maybe you haven't forgiven yourself."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and said hoarsely, "I would make a different decision now, Willow. Or at the very least, I would have come up with another plan that didn't condemn you to death."

She smiled one of her genuine heart-breaking smiles. "I'm glad to hear it. But let's just hope there's no hostage-taking of -- Oh!" She stiffened suddenly and so did Tara.

"The alarm?" he asked immediately.

Willow and Tara both nodded. "That was fast," Willow said, still blinking a little. "They must have taken care of those cult members in a hurry."

He frowned. "No, they wouldn't have had time to get there and back yet."

"Maybe they forgot something?" Tara suggested. "And they're coming back to get it?"

Wesley looked at the door, quickly sifting through the possibilities in his mind. "Where's the back door?" he asked abruptly.

Willow's eyes went wide. "There's an exit in the basement."

"Go," he ordered, and slipped on his jacket with a grimace, then quickly gathered up the scroll and his notes and stuffed them into his pockets.

Willow and Tara were on their feet, but hesitating. Tara said fearfully, "You don't think --?"

"Go now," he said urgently, giving them a little push to get them moving. He followed as they ran for the door leading to the basement, pausing only to snatch a compact crossbow from Giles' stash of weapons in the corner before clattering down the steps after them. They were waiting for him by the basement door, eyes wide in pale faces. He touched them both gently on the shoulders. "We're just going out the back to be cautious," he explained, mustering what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"You think it's them, don't you?" Tara asked in a whisper.

"I think we can't take any chances. Here, let me go first, stay close behind." He slipped out the door and quietly climbed the steps leading up to the back of the shop, crossbow at the ready. He waited until Willow and Tara were standing beside him, then pointed to the side of the building. "Stay here," he whispered. "I'm going to have a look at the front." They nodded, standing huddled together, and he slipped around the side and silently made his way to the front of the shop. He cautiously peeked around the corner and felt his heart sink. Angel, Buffy, Giles and Cordelia had obviously taken Angel's more spacious car; Giles' car was still parked out front, and under the light of street lamps he could see two cloaked figured standing by the car, cutting off any escape by automobile he had hoped for. No doubt more cloaked figures were inside the shop by now. He quickly returned to Willow and Tara and explained the situation.

"You mean, it was a trick? To get everyone out of the shop?" Willow whispered. "Do you think the others are okay?"

With a vampire and Slayer in the group the others were probably a great deal more okay than the three of them were at the moment. "We need to head for the park where they went. It may have been a ruse, in which case they should be headed back here and hopefully we can intercept them. Or they're in trouble and we can lend a hand."

Both girls nodded, but Tara had her arms wrapped around herself, and Wesley could see she was shivering in the cool, night air. Whereas he and Willow both had long-sleeved sweaters on, she had apparently neglected to grab her cardigan when they left the shop in a hurry and her short-sleeved cotton blouse wasn't enough protection against the cool night. Ignoring the twinges in his back, he slipped off his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. Before she could protest, there was a crash from inside the shop, like someone had thrown something against a wall.

"Do you know the way to the park?" Wesley hissed. They both nodded immediately. "Then run."

He let Willow lead. As a lifelong resident of Sunnydale, she knew her way around and he trusted her to choose a direct yet circumspect route to the park, and he noted with approval that she had a stake grasped in her hand. He hated dragging these two around the Hellmouth at night with only himself and a crossbow standing between them and any vampires on the hunt, but he had no choice. He suspected the cult had set up a ruse to lure them out of the Magic Box to try to get the scroll, and if they'd been in the shop when the intruders had arrived, he doubted they would have survived the encounter. Now it was his responsibility to get these two young women to safety and find a way to finish decrypting the counter-spell. Best case scenario would be to get them to Angel and Buffy for protection; but they had a long way to go and a lot of Hellmouth in their path.

Willow and Tara were moving at a quick pace, but when they looked back and saw he was struggling to keep up, they slowed their steps. "Keep going," he told them, gritting his teeth against the persistent pain in his back.

Tara gave Willow's arm a squeeze, then took a step back and slipped her arm through his. He wouldn't allow himself to lean on her, but he appreciated the support. "Do you think they're following us?" she asked in a low voice, looking around at the darkness surrounding them.

"I think we have to assume they can," he told her. "If some of the priests are half-demon then it's possible they may be able to track us in some way. Oh, Lord." He abruptly stopped in his tracks and quickly reached into the pocket of the jacket Tara was now wearing. The scroll wasn't anything manmade. It looked and felt a little like sheepskin, but Wesley knew the skin wasn't from any animal in this dimension. As he pulled it out into the night, he could see something he wouldn't have noticed indoors under the lighting of the Magic Box. It was glowing faintly with a bluish-white light. "This may be how they can track us," he said with a sick feeling in his stomach. "I should have thought of the possibility that they could somehow sense this as a threat to the demon they worship --"

"Giles didn't think of it either," Willow said immediately, "so it's not your fault, Wesley."

"Can't we just throw it away?" Tara asked, gesturing toward a storm drain as she looked around nervously. "Just throw it in the sewers, then they can't follow us."

"No, I can't take the chance."

"But you've already translated it," Willow reminded him.

"But what if I made a mistake? Or have to check a word or a line? This is the only copy we have. Until we know the counter-spell works we can't risk losing it."

Suddenly Tara grabbed his arm her fingers tightening painfully. "Wesley, look!"

Wesley quickly turned around and saw what she saw: he could make out dark forms in the distance and pairs of small glowing lights that he realized must be the eyes of the half-demons on their trail. There were far too many to fight, and he couldn't risk it in any event with Willow and Tara with him. He looked around desperately and pointed at what seemed to be a copse of trees in the distance. "What's that?"

"A park," Willow answered immediately. "Just mostly trees and walking paths."

"Head for it," he ordered. As they ran for the trees he was already trying to work out how he was going to get Willow and Tara to safety. He knew he had to separate himself and the scroll from them, but first he had to find someplace where they would be safe, not only from their pursuers, but from anything else out hunting that night. He got the solution as soon as they entered the park and he saw the substantial, old trees with their gnarled branches and plentiful cover. He stopped under one particularly large tree with low branches and held the young women back. "Can you climb?"

Willow looked up at the tree and seemed to understand his plan immediately. "Yes. Xander and I used to climb trees all the time when we were kids." Tara was looking uncertainly at the upper branches and Willow said reassuringly, "Don't worry. I'll help you."

"But, what if they can climb trees too?" Tara asked, looking back over her shoulder.

"They'll be following the scroll."

They both looked at him sharply. "We're not leaving you behind," Willow said firmly.

"You're not leaving me," he corrected gently. "Actually I'll be leaving you, and I'm very sorry for that, but I don't know of any other way." He continued on, ignoring their objections. "Climb as high as you can. Willow, I know you have a stake. Tara?" Wordlessly, she pulled a bottle of holy water out of a side pocket in her skirt. "Well done. Climb high and be very still. The safest thing would be to wait until sunrise, but the others need to know what happened."

"We'll get back to the Magic Box," Willow promised.

"But be careful. Don't go inside unless you know the others are there and it's safe. Tara, my translation is in the pocket of my jacket. Make sure Mr. Giles gets it. The counter-spell seems to be done in a rhyming couplet, and he may be able to continue the decoding himself." He held out his cupped hands to give Willow a leg up. "Now, up you go."

But instead of climbing into the tree, both Willow and Tara threw their arms around him and gave hugs so fierce they nearly knocked him over. "Be careful," Tara whispered. "Be safe."

"I shall," he said, gently returning their embraces. "Now, we need to be quick."

As Willow put a foot into his cupped hands, she looked up at him. "You're only doing this to keep us safe."

"I'm doing this because it's what needs to be done. You're a resourceful girl, Willow. I trust you to get yourself and Tara back to the others safely."

"And I trust you to get yourself back safely," she said with a fierceness he'd never heard from her before. Then she was pulling herself up onto the lowest branch and holding a hand down for Tara.

He stood under the tree and watched anxiously until they were both out of sight, only breathing again when he could see or hear nothing of them. Then he heard footsteps and rustling of bushes on the path behind him and took off at a run.

Willow had been right about the park. It was small. Before he realized he'd reached the end of the park, he was through the trees and out on the streets of Sunnydale. At least out here he had streetlights to help him see, and his pursuers would soon be leaving Willow and Tara behind. He chose a direction at random and doggedly pushed on, his limp becoming more pronounced as the pain in his back increased and his muscles, not yet healed from being thrown in the explosion at the office, began aching with a vengeance. He doubted his physical therapist had this kind of exercise in mind when he prescribed gentle stretching and walking at a slow, steady pace.

The streets of Sunnydale were deserted, at least in this part of town and there seemed to be more businesses, closed for the night, than residences. That was just as well. He wouldn't have wanted to cross paths with any innocents while he was being pursued and inadvertently put them in danger. If he could just find a public phone, he could pause long enough to call Angel's cell phone, which Buffy still had, and -- The sound of a choked off scream nearby made him stop suddenly in his tracks, then veer off in the direction of the sound, his crossbow gripped tightly in his hands. He'd heard enough screams like that to know what it meant. He may be too late, but if there was a chance he could save someone from a vampire attack, he had to try.

He arrived at the scene of the attack just as the body of the victim slid lifelessly to the ground. As the female vampire spun around at the sound of his approach, he coolly pulled the trigger of his crossbow and sent the shaft into the heart of the demon. The dust was still settling as he crouched carefully by the body of the victim and felt for a pulse. After a moment he got slowly to his feet and looked regretfully down at the middle-aged man in a business suit who had been alive only moments before. He knew intellectually he wasn't to blame for not being in time to save the man, but it made him want to smash something for being seconds too late. So caught up was he in his anger and guilt that it took him several moments before he realized the car beside him was still idling, the driver's door hanging open. He slowly walked around to the driver's side, noted the out of state plates, and realized the vampire must have used some ruse to cause the unwary stranger to stop and think he was rendering assistance. Or picking up a prostitute, Wesley amended, remembering how the female was dressed. Either way, it wasn't something anyone who was familiar with Sunnydale would have done.

The sound of running footsteps brought him around in time to see his pursuers, eyes again shining in the dark like cats' eyes, heading for him like filings to a magnet. Smiling grimly, he eased himself into the driver's side of the car and put it into gear. "Right," he murmured. "Let's see how you lot enjoy a good marathon, shall we?" Watching the rear view mirror he let them get close enough to get a good look at him, then he floored the accelerator and peeled away from the curb with a very satisfying squeal of tires. He should be able to outrun them easily, lead them far away from Tara and Willow, and find a public phone to call Angel. Finally. A plan.

Angel stood at the table where Wesley had worked and looked bleakly around at the smashed crockery and books littered over the floor of the Magic Box. The others were searching the store, but he had known as soon as he opened the door that no one was here. Over two hundred years of survival skills at his beck and call, and he had been stupid enough to fall for the ruse that left Wesley, Willow and Tara unprotected and in possession of the one thing that could foil the plans of the priests who planned to bring the demon Haach-mal into their dimension. Why didn't he just put out the welcome mat and leave the door open for them? Of course they would try to get their hands on the counter-spell. Cordelia was standing over by the counter, staring at the tea supplies that had been swept onto the floor, her knuckles white where she was gripping the baseball bat. Giles and Buffy both burst back into the store from their search of the building at the same time Xander pounded up the steps from the basement. "The basement door's wide open."

"It was locked when we left," Buffy said immediately. She turned sharply to Angel. "Do you think they got out that way?"

Instead of answering her directly, Angel indicated the table. "The scroll's missing, and all of Wesley's notes." He could practically write the script for what happened here while they were off chasing their tails. Wesley would have done everything in his power to keep that counter spell from getting into the hands of those priests. It was the only thing that had a chance to keeping that vortex closed and Haach-mal out of their dimension, and he knew it.

"Okay, so the bad guys broke in and grabbed the scroll," Xander said, looking from Buffy to Angel. "That's bad, but if they got what they wanted, where are Willow, Tara and Wesley?"

Angel looked over at Giles who was watching him with a knowing look on his face; Giles had obviously written the same script. He gave Angel a brief nod of acknowledgement, then said quietly, "I don't think they got the scroll."

Buffy asked sharply, "What do you mean?"

"He means," Angel said evenly, "Wesley, Willow and Tara would have had warning they were coming. I think they got out through the basement, but --"

"But Wesley took the scroll with him?" Xander interrupted incredulously. "That's what you're saying, isn't it? And those things went after them because he has what they want. And he's dragged Willow and Tara along with him and put their lives in danger --"

"Oh please." Cordelia slammed the bat down onto the counter. "This is all about Willow again, isn't it? You've never forgiven Wesley for the time when the Mayor had her, and he thought there could be a better plan to get her back than risking the thousands of lives you were so happy to sacrifice."

Xander rounded on her. "And what a surprise that you're taking his side again. Wesley was supposed to take care of Willow and Tara." He jabbed a finger in Cordelia's direction. "They were his responsibility, and if anything has happened to them because of him --"

"Stop it, both of you." Giles' sharp voice cracked like a whip across the store, and while Xander and Cordelia continued to glare at each other, neither was unwise enough to continue the argument. "The important thing now is to find all three of them. If they have that scroll and the Haach-mal worshippers are on their trail, they're in grave danger."

Angel strode across the room to the basement door. "I'll try to pick up their trail."

Buffy was at his heels. "I'm with you."

Cordelia snatched the baseball bat back up. "Me too."

Xander hefted the axe in his hand and followed. "Like you're leaving me behind."

"Someone should stay behind in case they come back," Giles protested. "Cordelia, it might be better if you stayed here."

Cordelia didn't look at him as she marched by. "Giles, buy a clue."

"Someone should be here in case they --"

"We're back."

The sound of Willow's soft voice stopped everyone in their tracks. Everyone spun around to find Willow and Tara standing the doorway, tightly grasping hands. There were leaves and twigs stuck in Willow's hair, and Tara's face was smudged and she was huddled inside Wesley's jacket. Buffy practically flew across the room, gathering first Willow and then Tara into a fierce hug. "Thank god you guys are okay. What happened?"

"And where's Wesley?" Angel asked urgently, striding over and looking past them in hopes of seeing Wesley trailing behind.

"The priests came," Willow explained breathlessly. "Wesley got us out. He figured out they could follow the scroll, so he hid us and took the scroll and led them away. He told us to try to make it back here."

"You've got to find him," Tara pleaded. "He's still out there, and they're after him." She turned to Willow, tears shining in her eyes. "We shouldn't have left him. He's all alone out there."

"No, you all did exactly the right thing," Angel told her. "Wesley's smart; he'll figure out a way to stay ahead of them. Where did you see him last?"

Willow quickly told them about the small park where they had hidden, and Buffy nodded sharply. "I know it. Let's go."

When Willow and Tara made a move to go back out the door, Giles gently but firmly laid a hand on their shoulders and held them back. "No you don't. Wesley risked his life to keep you two safe, and you're staying right here."

Angel took Cordelia's elbow and pulled her aside. "Cordy, I want you to stay here with Willow and Tara." When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed on. "Wesley could make his way back here, and he could be hurt or he could be in trouble. I need you here. Buffy still has my cell phone, so call us if he gets back." He knew he had her the moment he mentioned Wesley could be hurt, although the look in her eyes told him she knew he'd done it deliberately.

"Find him," was all she said.

He touched her briefly on the shoulder. "I will," he promised, and turned and strode out of the Magic Box, the others following close behind.

Wesley sighed with relief when he spotted the old fashioned phone booth on the street corner ahead. Taking the car and leading his pursuers on a merry chase had been a good plan, a solid plan, one that had worked for as long as the car kept running. It was just unfortunate that the owner of the car had apparently been running on fumes, and the car had sputtered to a stop a short time before when the tank finally ran dry. During his short stint as Watcher in Sunnydale he really hadn't got to know the town well. No one had offered to show him around, and he'd spent his time doing research and writing reports to the Council and just generally not getting out at all. He had no idea what part of town he was in by now or how close he might be to the Magic Box. He'd been too intent on taking random turns and hopefully tiring his pursuers, and he'd completely lost any sense of direction. When the car finally stopped he found himself in what appeared to be an area of warehouses, some of which looked derelict. Knowing how much vampires liked setting up nests in abandoned buildings, Wesley walked warily but quickly toward the phone booth, crossbow at the ready, and hoped this phone was working. The last two he'd tried had been vandalized.

He pushed the door open and slipped inside, sighing with relief when he saw this phone seemed to have all its working parts. A working phone meant Angel, and that meant reinforcements. If he could just continue to evade the priests on the trail of the scroll and avoid any hunting vampires, he should soon be back at the Magic Box along with, please God, Willow and Tara and everyone else. He set his crossbow down by his feet and fumbled in his pocket for coins. He only had enough change for one phone call and it seemed to take him forever to feed the coins into the proper slots, and then clumsily dial Angel's cell phone number with fingers that were stiff from cold and cramped from gripping his crossbow. He listened impatiently to the phone ringing on the other end, hoping Buffy hadn't lost the damned phone in a graveyard somewhere. For a moment he imagined the cell phone lying near the torn-up ground of a fresh grave, ringing in an empty graveyard. The sudden sound of Angel's anxious voice in his ear actually made him jump.

"Wesley? Is that you?"

"Angel?" He'd felt very alone out here all night, and just the sound of Angel's voice made him sag a little with relief. He was cold, he was tired beyond all imagination, his head was pounding to the point that even the soft lights of the street lamps were almost too much for him to bear, and he really wanted to stop being prey. "Oh thank god. I was afraid --"

"Wes, are you all right? Where are you?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. But Willow and Tara --"

"They're fine. They're back at the Magic Box. Wesley, where are you?"

"I'm afraid I'm in a rather bad section of town," he said apologetically, looking around uneasily.

He heard a strangled sound, then Angel's painfully patient voice, "Wesley, a street name, a landmark, a name on a building, anything."

Wesley peered out through the glass to the street sign on the corner and rubbed his eyes to bring it into focus. "Sheraton. The sign for the sidestreet is broken off, but there are a number of rather derelict warehouses around. I'm afraid there aren't any signs on the buildings." He heard some muffled conversation and the sound of tires squealing, and then Angel was back on the line.

"Wes, Buffy says that's an area that can be...kind of dangerous. So you need to stay right where you are, and we're on our way. Don't worry, okay? We're on our way." Wesley decided there was not much more terrifying than Angel trying to do casual and reassuring and failing miserably. He honestly would have preferred it if Angel had just told him he was standing on the welcome mat of Vampire Central and been done with it. There was the sound of more squealing tires and some muffled shouts. "Look, I'm going to turn you over to Giles now. You talk to him and stay on the line."

There was silence for a few moments and then Giles' voice. "Wesley?"

"Mr. Giles. Are Willow and Tara really all right?"

"They're fine, Wesley."

He allowed himself to lean against the glass of the booth, almost too tired to stay on his feet. "Thank god," he breathed. "I was afraid Angel was just telling me that..."

"No," Giles said immediately. "They're fine. They're back at the Magic Box with Cordelia. That was quick thinking to hide them and draw away the priests, Wesley." Giles managed a forced laugh and said lightly, "Shades of Charles the Second and the oak tree legend."

Resting his head against the cool glass, Wesley let his eyes slide shut and let Giles' voice wash over him. "Couldn't let anything happen to them," he mumbled. "The scroll. They can track the scroll. But I had to keep it because I'm not quite finished the decoding, and if I made a mistake in the translation, we would need it."

"Quite right," Giles assured him. Then he asked carefully, "Wesley, you don't see any of those priests, do you? Are they nearby?"

"I don't think so," he said tiredly, blinking through the dirty glass of the phone booth into the night. "But I'm sure they'll be along eventually."

"Well, not to worry," Giles said bracingly. "Just keep your head down, and we'll be right along, that's the spirit."

Wesley winced and huddled a little deeper into the booth. If even Giles was worried about him, giving him the old keep-your-chin-up-that's-a-good-lad speech, then he really was in a dangerous part of town. He had to concentrate to pick up what Giles was saying next.

"Wesley, how on earth did you get to where you are? You're miles away from that park where Willow and Tara last saw you. You're on the other side of town, in fact."

"Found a car," he retorted drowsily. "But I was too late to save the owner."

"You found a car? Well, that would explain it. Not to worry, Wesley. We're moving quite quickly, and we'll be there very shortly. Just keep talking to me. Wesley!"

Giles' sharp voice cut through his lethargy, and he realized he was on the verge of falling asleep standing up. "I'm here," he replied quickly. He blinked his eyes open and straightened. "Oh."

"What's wrong?" Giles asked immediately.

Before he could answer Angel's sharp voice on the phone. "Wesley? What is it? What's going on?"

But Wesley's overtired brain refused to send the appropriate words to his mouth. He knew what he was seeing was wrong, but he couldn't process why. There was a pretty girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen standing outside the phone booth smiling at him through the dirty glass. She tilted her head as if studying him, and he tried to push himself against the opposite side of the phone booth.

"Angel," he whispered. "Hurry."

The glass shattered as she smashed it with her fist. Wesley registered the sting of cuts on his face from flying pieces of glass, and then a strong hand gripped his throat and squeezed.

"Mine."

"Wesley! Wes, what's going on?" Angel heard the sound of breaking glass, muffled sounds, then nothing. He shoved the phone at Buffy who was riding shotgun, and took a turn with screaming tires. "Keep trying," he ground out. "Something happened."

He heard Giles and Xander in the back seat both demanding to know what happened, and Buffy trying repeatedly to get an answer from Wesley, and tuned them all out, concentrating on driving as fast as he could across town. This is what happened when you worked with humans, he thought, anger and fear filling him in equal measure. They got themselves kidnapped and tortured; they got themselves blown up in buildings; they ended up in mental wards as a bombardment of visions drove them crazy. It would be so much simpler, and the chance for heartbreak so much less, if he just went back to shunning humans and worked on his own. But even as those thoughts raced through his mind he knew he could never do that again. Cordelia and Wesley were too important to him. They were family to him now, people to be protected, cared for, and fed when needed or when he just felt like cooking. Wesley was on the other end of that phone somewhere, and he was going to find him, kill whatever was threatening him, and take him safely back to Los Angeles. He pressed the