Christopher unlocked his office door, and entered to the phone ringing. He dropped the boxes he was carrying onto a chair and picked up the receiver. "Um, yes, hi, this is Christopher Sullivan."

The voice on the other end of the receiver surprised him. "Hello, Chris. It's Wesley."

"Wesley?" Christopher was surprised. Wesley had only phoned him recently to ask about the Old Ones, Illyria specifically. "Hi, you, uh, you need something else? I mean help, you know, with something else?"

"Actually, Chris, I was wondering if I could talk with Allison. I know I usually write to her but," Wesley paused, as if it was difficult for him to word what he wanted to say, "but I really need to hear her voice. And you know what my father's like, he won't let Allison talk to me over the phone, and I don't want him to hear this."

"Yeah, sure, um, could you hold on, I'll put you through to her phone now. Bear with me a minute." Christopher pressed the button labelled 'Allison Wyndam-Pryce' on his telephone and a ringing began.

Shortly, the receiver was picked up and a voice was heard, "Class dismissed." There was a pause and the sound of a door closing before Allison's voice returned to the receiver. "Chris?" she said.

"Actually, it's Wesley," Wesley said, as Christopher quietly placed the receiver down. He knew this was private between the Wyndam-Pryce siblings.

"Wes," Allison said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you phoning? You never phone me."

"I needed to."

Allison detected something in his voice. Something she hadn't heard in a long time. Fear. "Wes, what is it? What's going on over there?"

"Well, I'm on strict orders to live today as if it were my last day alive." There was a long pause. "You remember reading about the Circle of the Black Thorn?" he asked.

"I read that they were a legend," replied Allison. "To scare little demons at night."

"Well they're real. And Angel plans on destroying them tonight. I needed to talk to you, Allison, to tell you that some of the team here might not make it."

There was another pause before Allison found the courage to say, "You mean you might not make it?"

Wesley heard Allison breathe deeply. He could tell she was upset. "Allison, it's more important that you know now, so if my next letter doesn't show up, you'll understand."

"Wes?" asked Allison. "Promise you'll phone me again?"

"Allie …"

"No, Wesley. Promise me. Promise that you'll phone within forty-eight hours. You needed to talk to me, because you might never see me again. I need you to promise you'll phone me within forty-eight hours, so that I know …" she paused. "So I know what happens."

"Allison, if I don't phone you within that forty-eight hour window you've given me, I want you to presume me dead." Wesley's voice was firm as he said that.

A single tear rolled down Allison's cheek. She hadn't cried since she was five, after her father had hit her saying that a good Watcher was tough, and if she wanted to be a good Watcher she'd better stop crying or she'd be in for a good hiding. She whispered, so quietly that it was barely audible, "I love you Wes."

"I love you too, Allison," he whispered back. "Goodbye."

"Forty-eight hours," Allison added.

There was a click on the other end of the line. "Goodbye, Wesley," she whispered as she hung the phone up.

Then she collapsed on the floor and burst into tears; tears out of fear for her brother's life.