Wesley walked into the abandon Wolferman and Hart building. Not a soul was there. Well possible a few lost souls, yet not a living soul. It was slightly creepy, ok well maybe extremely creepy. Yet the minute he entered his office he felt a bit safer. Turning on a small lamp on his desk, it's soft glow seemed to accent his blue eyes which where skimming the room slightly. It was filled with boxes of books he had requested. Even with those new recourse books it, wouldn't be his office without his books. Books to him where a form of comfort. Getting lost in the endless mysterious of the world. Always trying to find the answer. A book to him was like a slice of the bigger picture. What ever that was. He sighed deeply as he sat down comfortable in his three hundred dollar lazy boy chair. Leaning back slightly he brought his fist to his face his elbow on the arm of his chair. He sighed deeply before opening up his laptop and typing like wildfire. Knowing exactly where he was going and how to get there. It had taken quite a few phone calls to willow to get there the first time. Yet he had finally made it. The private St. John's hospital records. Elizabeth Wattson's condition: Coma, alive.... the same exact way it had been the last 7 years. But Wesley had the habit of checking on his condition weekly. Before his exile from AI it was part of his Monday ritual. Wake-up, take a shower, get dressed go to work before anyone, check on Liz, close any case's, make coffee and by then people got to work.

"Wes?" mumbled a voice. He looked up and saw Angel rubbing his head, his hair messy. It was obvious the vampire had just awoken from his deep slumber. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Nothing" he replied again stone like, closing the laptop.

"Nothing?"

"Unpacking." he said quickly before picking up a random box. "Apartment." he said gesturing towards the box in his hands. Angel nodded and yawned accepting the lie and heading back to bed. Unaware of a jet-black falcon with bright amazing blue eyes watching Wesley intensely from outside the windows.

Emma Wattson sighed deeply closing her eyes. Concentrating on her breathing as she did her tai-foe. Moving her arms slowly and into different martial arts stances. It was her form of meditating. She was trying to be at peace with her mind. Yet it just wasn't happening. Her mind was wondering off way too much. She kept her eyes closed still concentrating on her breathing moving slowly. She moved right leg over her left and used her left to make a slow kick to the invisible person's ankle. She was standing in a small ocean of sand. A Chinese temple towered behind her. She was wearing black pants, and a white tank top. Her hair still in a long braid that reached her hips, and it wasn't as messy as it had been when she had awoken from her nightmare. She had grown up a lot in 7 years. She was not that little 10-year-old girl anymore. Emma was called at the age of 7 and had been a slayer for 10 years. No one knew of this. Even with all of the other slayers being called she remained obsolete. No one ever knew that Buffy wasn't the only slayer that had died and had come back to life. No one knew that she herself had died and come back to life. Hence Buffy being called. The young girl yet old slayer continued her meditating training session. The monks here where kind to her, and welcomed her into their home. She had been traveling since the event. Learning to depend on her. Yet her past still haunts her. Reminding herself she wasn't always so dependent upon herself. Of how she use to be in fact more dependent on her sister, and her watcher more than anything. Just the thought of him made her snap as she stopped meditating and started fighting an invisible person. Snapping out a punch she retrieved it falling to her hands during a twirl using her feet to sweep the invisible person. Then jumped up and landing in a split her fist two niche's from a not so invisible person. It was Master Chang. She must of accidentally seeped him and just got lost in the snap.

"Master-"

"Aah Emmasun" he said slightly nervously. She quickly knelt down, her feet on top of each other. She bowed low, yet not to lowly for that was a sign of being a slave. Yet not to high for that showed that they where equals and in the dojo they where not. He got up fumbling with his black robe dusting off the sand. "Come with me." he said, bowing his little baldhead slightly and gesturing for the longest living slayer to follow him.

Wesley flinched as he entered his apartment the following night. He had been in a fight with a Misogaga demon. A huge demon giant that stood 9 feet tall. It had only one weapon to throw at Gunn, Angel, and Fred. Which was in fact him. He was sore all over, and he tasted blood in his mouth from the vampires he had met earlier that night and a few on the way home. He just wanted a hot shower, some food, and then to bed. Nothing more and nothing less. Yet he couldn't even take off his t-shirt. His shoulder was dislocated or it least hurt like hell.

"Damm it." he muttered as he cringed once more. Unaware of a black panther's, bright blue eyes watching him from the balcony. Along with falcons own bright blue eyes. Both watching him as if he where prey.

He glanced at is watch then at the calendar and felt a rush of pain come to him. It was June 25 12:32.... just 5 more minutes until it was official.

Wendy, William, Wilfred, Emma, RJ, and D.D would of been dead for exactly 7 years. Wes fell upon his couch not wanting anything anymore. He just wanted to sit here and be alone in his misery. Just has to get through tonight and he would only have to wait another whole year to do it again. This was always the hardest day of the year. The anniversary of their death and his own in some way. Usually he would go out and kill something to take his mind of it. Yet this year he couldn't because of the extreme pain he was in right now. In fact he couldn't even get up and get a drink to get drunk. He glanced at his watch...1 minute. He would have to face this on he own, by himself with nothing to do but face the facts.

His brothers, sisters, and the closest things to his own children had died exactly at this time 7 years ago by a bomb. That same bomb had sent Elizabeth Wattson into comma whom was still technically Wesley's fiancée'. His heart clenched at the memories came back to him. He tried to keep the tears down but he couldn't.