"If there's a better place you can take me
A better life you give me
Whatever place I can start all over
And I will never need what you gave me
And never need you to save me
And never feel like this life is over…"

"…Or maybe I'm the reason why you cry at night
before you sleep…"

            ----Limp Bizkit

            Wesley doesn't recognize the sound the first two times.  A ringing phone.  In his house.  He jumps up, anxious to stop the noise and quickly picks up the phone, upsetting an old glass of whiskey.

            "Yes?" Wesley asks, his voice like gravel.

            "I'm looking for Wesley Wyndham-Pryce…" A man's voice replies, distantly.

            "Why?" Wesley asks, honestly curious.

            "Wesley.  It's Xander Harris.  From Sunnydale."

            "Xander?" Wesley questions, remembering the boy clearer than anything else in recent weeks.  Alcohol and darkness have come to live with Wesley in recent months.

            "Yeah.  What's up?  You're hard to find and almost dead from what I hear," Xander states.

            "True.  Nothing's up except hearing from you.  Why on earth are you calling me?" Wesley asks, sitting down on his hard floor in a puddle of Jack Daniels.

            "I tracked you down.  I have some information about Angel.  I wanted to talk to you before…" Xander starts.

            "Why me?" Wesley interrupts. 

            "I…a lot of things have changed in Sunnydale.  I know things now, things that no one else does.  I see things…" Xander's voice lacks his usual confidence. 

            "What kind of things, Xander, visions or something?"

            "Something like that.  I know what happened out there with Angel and you guys…I saw it…well, I…sort of…I just know what happened, Wes," Xander says.

            Wesley believes him.  "What's happened in Sunnydale?"

            "Well.  A lot.  Willow's catatonic.  Buffy and I are both working two jobs to keep Dawn in school and Will in therapy.  Anya and Giles are in England.  And I have new tricks to stop apocalypses," Xander sums up.

            "I'm sorry, Xander, I had no idea," Wes replies.

            "I'm sure there are apocalypses in L.A., too, Wesley.  We're all alive.  So are you."

            "What did you call about again?  You wanted to talk to me about Angel?"  Wesley is startled.

            "Did you know Angel was missing?  He disappeared a few weeks ago.  Cordelia, too," Xander says, his voice faltering slightly.

            "Cordy?"

            "Oh, she's fine, Wesley…she's in a better place…no…hang on a sec…" The line goes dull in Wesley's ear.  He hears a loud crash.  "Okay, I'm back."

            "Everything okay?" Wesley finds himself asking.

            "Just a little broken glass, spilled blood…normal thing around here…anyway, what I was saying…" Xander says, his voice distant. 

            "Why are you calling me about Angel?  We're not…friends anymore," Wesley states.

            "I know.  I know what you did and why you did it.  Distance brings clarity, so I don't exactly understand the betrayal Angel and the others felt for you, but I felt their pain and yours.  Besides, I have to make this right and you're the only person I know in L.A. anymore.  Will you help me?"

            "Xander…" Wesley starts.

            "Somebody has to save Angel."

            "I'll give you my address," Wesley sighs.

            "Wesley, once I get there, we're going to have to go to the Hyperion.  Are you going to be ready for that?"

            "We'll talk once you get here," Wesley replies.