Disclaimer: I don't own the show Angel it's that simple.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews! I will try to find the typos beforehand. Eloise, maybe when I'm sleeping I'm getting TV signals for that show because that is weird. I'm sorry but I haven't seen it, I don't even get BBC America with my standard cable. Sorry if this chapter is a little boring but it's a lot of explanation of what happened when Wes was gone. On with the story.

I found myself in yet another new place. I studied my surroundings, a long hallway with many doors on each side. A man in scrubs hurried down the corridor, going right through me. At first I thought he was retrieving the distraught teenage boy in the straitjacket, but he passed through the boy as well. He was a ghost.

"Which hospital am I at?" I asked but the adolescent floated by me.

"Am I even in a hospital," I continued but he ignored me. I dismissed his unresponsive behavior as a part of the mental illness he must have had when he was alive.

I wandered through the building, trying to find out exactly where I was. I came across another two ghosts, both old women, who were gossiping about the happenings of the living.

"Where am I?" I catechized but they too were oblivious to me.

I gave up, and I went down the hall and turned, passing right through Angel, who was using the pay phone. It's one thing going through normal people, it's a complete other thing going through someone that is already dead. It wasn't as cold as I felt before the crash but it was close to it.

"I'll call you when we know more, Lorne," he said and the hung up the phone.

He returned to his seat next to Gunn, across from Spike. The agonizing boredom was probably was just for a few minutes but it felt much longer. Then there were footsteps. Angel and Gunn looked up to see a surgeon, but Spike's head remained down. Angel stood up to meet the man.

"I have bad news and good news, which one first."

"Bad," Angel replied, much to the dismay of the doctor.

"Well, it makes more sense if I say the good first. The surgery went very well, probably because we did have to do all that much work. The internal bleeding is hardly as serve as shown by the initial tests. The bad news is I now have to figure out what is wrong with my equipment, or else it's a quite a lot of money down the drain."

Angel wasn't exactly amused with the physician. Gunn breathe a sigh of relief, while Spike lit up.

"Sir, no smoking, oxygen is being in use," the doctor informed.

"No kidding, we all have to breath," Spike snickered under his breath.

"Spike," Angel gritted through his teeth.

"Bloody alright then," Spike said as he drove the cigarette into the metal armrest of the chair.

"So is she going to be okay?" Angel asked.

"Yes, but we'll be keeping her until tomorrow around noon?"

"Can we see her?"

An exasperated look washed over the surgeon's face, "If it were up to me but, Nancy. She a bit obsessive with no disturbances during recovery, especially since you're not family-"

"We're not blood related."

"I don't see the problem in it. If Nancy starts fussing just say you have a doctor's permission … just don't tell her it was I."

Angel nodded and headed into room 401, Gunn followed him and Spike trudged along a few yards behind them. I got there before them since I could go through walls. I saw her lying there, the machines monitoring her vital signs. I felt a pang of guilt. This all started happening after I died, maybe –

Stop it Wesley, you can't change what has already happened, I scolded myself as I had done many times before.

A busy woman strolled right through me. Her gray hair was pulled back in a bun but you could tell she had a long day since pieces hanging around her face. She was taking note of Fred's conditions.

Angel and the others entered, to receive a scowl from the woman. This was obviously Nancy that the doctor spoke of.

"What are you doing here?" she said in a Welsh accent.

"Seeing a friend," Spike replied. Nancy's eyes squinted as she studied Spike. She hardly approved of his hair or style. She didn't voice her opinion aloud but you could tell by her face. How could a nice young girl be associated with a scamp like that?

Her face smoothed out again, "You're friends that makes sense, you surely don't look like family," she commented as she eyed Gunn.

Gunn was about to say something when Fred awoke, "Charles?"

"Fred," Angel and Gunn both said in unison.

Nancy strolled out, snorting softly as she passed by Spike.

"No wonder the bloody sap makes such horrible jokes, he has to work with that hag," he muttered under his breath. Angel must have heard him because he gave his grandchilde a look.

"How are you feeling?" Gunn asked.

"Good," Fred lied.

There was an awkward silence, which was then broken by Fred's voice.

"Before I passed out, did you guys see what I saw … or at least what I think I saw?"

"I'm not sure of what I saw –" Angel began but was interrupted.

"I'll clear it up for you. A bunch of black fog being pulling out of Fred by a translucent Wesley," Spike leaned against the wall.

"Black fog? I didn't see that, but then again …" Fred trailed off.

"Neither could Gunn over there. Only me and Mr. Broody got a glimpse of it, and that wasn't until it got pulled out of you."

"So," Fred looked at everyone hesitantly, "Do we know what kind of demon it was?"

"I don't think it was a demon," Angel sighed, "something much worse."

"But how do we know for sure?"

"We don't, it was usually Wes that handled this stuff," Gunn stated.

Even if I was there, they able to see and hear me, it wouldn't have don much good. I was completely stumped.

Yet, another wave of quiet washed upon the group, I suspect because of the mention of my name.

"We have to help him." Fred said softly, her fingers played with the sheets.

"You mean make him corporeal. Sorry Fred but that is-" Spike began but he was cut off.

"Getting into the realm of resurrection, I know, and that isn't what I mean. I did some research when you weren't corporeal, and being a true ghost isn't like what you were. You can't see them or hear them, unless under special circumstances. It's like you're nothing, and you're fully aware."

"So what did you mean?" Angel asked.

"I meant getting him … to wherever he needs to be."

This statement made me think about the Purgatory I had been in. Why was I taken out? Why didn't I belong, like that voice said? I was dead wasn't I, that is where dead people go. I came to the sicken realization of something. Fred wasn't out of danger yet. I still had more work to do.

Ironically Spike said the exact opposite I was thinking, " I think he did what he need to, save you from that black fog. We have to find out it's got a proper name. I sick of bloody referring to it as 'the black fog'. "

"But who would know that information?" Angel stared out through the small window.

"I really don't, I mean we just here at a bloody get-together of all these Wolfram & Hart people," Spike used his trademark sarcasm.

"I'm not asking them," Angel glared at the vampire.

"It's not like we have a choice, and they do have good resources," Gunn try to persuade.

Angel moaned, "Okay, we'll see them tomorrow."

"And what will be doing until then, twiddling our thumbs?" Spike remarked.

"It's nearly 11:30, who would be working."

"Believe me, if all the branches are like LA, a bloody lot of people. I should know."

"Fine."

"Right then, Fred I trust that you are in the utmost care with that Welsh bint." Spike smirked.

Fred rolled her eyes and nodded as the three left. Though, Gunn halted and faced her.

"Fred, you said you saw the black mist in the crash, but how? We had come to the conclusion that maybe only dead people could see it."

"It wasn't black, it was white …" she thought about this, " or maybe it was gray, I couldn't really tell. The lighting in a car isn't all that great."

Next time: The gang gets an explanation from their fellow Wolfram & Hart workers and it's not good … like apocalyptic, hellish bad.