A part of Xander wasn't sure how to feel about being the cause of Angel's recent pain. He was entitled to feel a sense of responsibility for his past lives, he supposed, but what had he ever done to Angel? Wasn't Dead boy incapable of that sort of fear? Hadn't his reign of death on England and France made him immune to such a, what was the word, human shortcoming? To say Xander panicked would be a shortcoming. That's how Cordy saw it in retrospect. Unexplainable is how most of the former Scoobies saw it. It was like seeing Giles or Ethan as mass murderers.

Xander ran hard when he had the change to slip away. Ran for introspection; ran from the photo. From the news he could be the solution. He ran and switched through rows so as not to be followed. His legs finally gave out in screaming burn from his calves, but he wasn't sure that Willow and Oz weren't an incredible distance behind anyways.

Spike had wanted to jump through the screen as Xander bolted. His insides screamed out, where are you going? You have to save him somehow!

Chris, the only non-invested member, was the calm one. "We need to give Xander some space and time. In the meantime, what do we do? What does this new information mean?"

Secretly, the outsider was pleased at the outcome. Even Xander was as imperfect as the rest of them. It pleased him to learn such information. He had never asked about the past of the others; he could have simply researched, but didn't feel inclined to risk it so much. There was a risk of attachment involved that wasn't much of a thrill to him. Angel was dying and Keller had no doubt Xander would come back soon. That's what Xander did; run for air and then came back down to the depths of the demonic sea.

Oz spoke up, the first to get a handle on the situation. "Keller is right. Xander's going to need just as much time and support as Angel. Plus, this gives us more time to plan something to try and snap Angel awake."

Spike hated rationality sometimes, but the were beast was right. Oz moved behind Keller to show support and then turned to Willow. "In fifteen minutes, go and find Xander. If you need me I'll help to track, but I have a feeling you won't need me so much. Cordy, you go talk to the PTB and ask them about the situation between Angelus and Anorous. They should know the history. Knowing the past should help us in both the present and future. Huh, it works for things outside of high school. Anyways, Spike be prepared to move Angel if we can't come to you because I'm sure this will involve something messy. Just be prepared for anything. Here at Amcroft Row, we'll keep things running with further research and see what we can find. Does two hours sound good to everyone?"

Riley smiled as he looked up from his chair at the wolf who had taken command in Xander's absence. There was something to be said for instinct; for knowing the right time to speak and yet for being filled with subdued sage as well. Riley had to suppress the urge to ruffle the wolf's hair, and even a part of his smile. He always seemed to feel Willow glaring down at him as of recent.

Xander only stopped even walking when he had lost track of his heartbeat. His legs were like the lead you feel after a marathon. He was sure he had escaped Angel; that he had made Cordy, Anya, and even Buffy matter more than Angel. But here he was, confronted with the one beast that had gotten to places in his soul even he hadn't seen. The way the cool skin had touched him. A hand on his shoulder; a bare chest on his back. Nights spent watching bad movies with worse popcorn. It could all be equated and then stuffed down into the messiness of adolescence.

But now, Xander held tight into himself. Tight into suppressed memories of the tossing and turning of Angel and Angelus. Tight into the Angel who had shown him into the field of battle, both of demonic varieties and otherwise. He had secretly learned sword fighting from Angel to be well-equipped; had studied herbs under advisement as well. Shattered, Xander looked into his own reflection in an oil stain and wished it were bigger. Big enough to take him face down. If Angel were to die, really die, Xander would be to blame. Alexander LaVelle Harris-murderer. The rest of the demons were just faces; this was so much more. But how could he help this man? Too many questions and not enough air for him to breath.

Xander slumped down and tried to find silent tears to cry in desperation, in this need for feeling. He had cried, begged for Angel for so long, and now he wanted it, but wanted to walk away just as badly. Vengeance is a sword of double-edges. Only a handful of others understood what it was like to love or admire Angel, for any side of him, and most of them were just as poisoned as Xander. There was no one to talk to or turn to. Xander turned toward the sky. He proclaimed to all the drifting clouds.

"Now would be a good time for some intervention! Isn't there anything out there that could help me? If you want me to believe then show me what to do!"

"I could help you." There was a cool breeze about the voice as Xander faced the shallow beach created by the docks. Of course, that is, if you want my help, truly want it. It was Buffy. A Buffy from long ago; radiating with a charisma and warmth Xander couldn't remember. She had a light blue shadow floating around her; a protection for her aura.

"Who are you?" The words trembled to the surface of his lips.

"Me? I'm Buffy. I was sent with a message; sent to be a guardian angel of sorts for you. The angelic host is worried about what's going on just as much as you, Xander. All the players and their parts are very connected, and we want to help Angel just as much, if not more, than Spike or Cordy does."

The exclusion stung Xander deep. "You think I'd let him die?"

"I think it's capable of your humanity, yes. What's one more bloodsucker walking the earth? Take its face and its soul and you could theoretically kill anything."

"I didn't even know you were dead, Buffy. Wouldn't Willow have said something?"

"Willow gave up magic; gave up that intuition. She's bright, but she's not that good. What do the details matter? The point now is; do you want the message or not?"

Xander stopped for a moment. "This is gonna change my life, isn't it?"

Buffy smiled with sorrow in the exchange. "It will change everything. The message is simple if you really want to hear it: Love changes all. Love heals all. Love brings all things full circle. Love conquers all. Think of this as your cosmic greeting card. "

"That sounds pretty vague; especially for someone as jaded as me, Buff."

"Yeah, I know, but don't kill the messenger and all that. Xander, this choice is yours. No one would blame you for putting Angel out of his misery, but think about it, isn't it possible he's been just as miserable as you these past years? Did you ever wonder how hard leaving was for him? Or maybe as to why he left?"

Xander felt the guilt knowing under the questions he'd asked and all those bitter tears he'd regretted never crying. He'd never asked Angel why he left; even at him just being a phone call away. It had occurred to him, but the broodiness was this thick shell not even love had been able to penetrate. And there had been quite a bit of love and passion to go around. "Can you give me any hints at all?"

"Afraid not, Xan. The messenger is only allowed to know her message and to wish the receiver all the best. Xander, I do wish you the best. I hope you make the right choice and I pray you find solace in it. It's a short and lonely road to Val Halla, my friend. I wasn't lucky enough to hold him, and neither were you. But maybe love could still change everything. Were all romantics, which is why continue to fight beyond any rationale. It all boils down to the fact that we believe. What do you believe in, Xander Harris?"

She caressed his cheek with her hand. "Because, as she smoothed his hair, we all believe in something. We're all watching and rooting for you, Xander. Good luck." He looked away as the dimming sun skimmed her eyes and filled the water with brightness. He found himself crouched and sitting as Willow came around the corner.

"Xander, there you are. I can't even imagine how tough this must be. "

"Tough, this is nothing. It's just another vamp that needs to be dusted or another demon to be vanquished. It's nothing new."

"But it's Angel, Xan; Your Angel."

Xander gave her a look.

Willow shook her head, defiant of the look. "Xander, don't be surprised," Willow continued on as she slid down the wall to where he was holding himself with his knees and she smoothed his hair, playing with his bangs a little, "I knew what was under that layer of smoldering insights. You went from being an insecure boy to a somewhat less gawky heroic man. It was no mistake he entered our lives, and your heart followed. Here's your chance to pay him back; to be his hero for once. Please think about it Xander. "

Xander tried to smile, but it came out as more of a weak wince. "I have thought about it. There's not much to think about. Even as just a comrade; I would help him and expect the same kind of courtesy in return."

She squeezed his arm as he began to walk back towards the building. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah. And even if it gets crazy, hey, that's the Zeppo's middle name!"

Xander could hear her mutter as he walked away, "I thought your middle name was Francis."

The night of searching for context and clues proved just as fruitful as the first day of actual research. Spike paced as Cordy consulted the PTB and was somewhat out of the picture. There was no information on the real doings of Robin Hood; although research also somewhat consisted of watching a Kevin Costner version of his life (which was as close to accurate research as there was to get on the subject).

"Maybe someone should write a book after we're done so others will have information. "

"Information on what?" Riley asked as the conference table, piled over with books, charts, and curvy spell wording. "We're not even sure what happened yet."

Cordy had a knack for good timing. She returned semi-glowy from the chambers of the PTB hall with a clear stone. She cradled the stone like a child. Her smooth face was marred by worried lines.

"What did they say, Cordy?" Spike's voice was down to a whisper of worry at this point, devoid of most other emotions at this point. Angel was losing weight, mass, and sanity every second they wasted.

"This clear gem", she began, "is the last remaining in a lineage; a line of leaf spirits that chase demons. Before Slayers were chosen, the male heirs to the kingdom were hunters of demons. They stood on the front lines. Many of the heirs later became Watchers to the original Slayers, but seldom made contact. Each demon connected now goes into these fits and apparently the history between Angelus' demon and Xander's past is a bit complicated."

Cordelia continued to speak into the silence as everyone soaked up her words. "The PTB want this to go away almost as badly as we do, apparently it wasn't part of their plans. For this to work, a spell must be chanted in the room with the demon's greatest love and greatest enemy in different points in the room. We'll need you in LA as fast as an airplane can carry you."

The words stuck in Riley's throat as he asked them. "What about Buffy?"

Cordelia shook her head. "I asked, but apparently in the soul mate realm the two were never meant to be."

"This is good, because she wanted nothing to do with the deal at all. She'd rather see him dead then not be worried. Spike spat the information out.

Xander kept the information that an apparently dead Buffy had spoke to him to himself, though whether it was a lie or simply someone trying to cheer him on was unclear. "So, is this spell exclusive to the demon Angelus or to Angel and his soul?"

"We're hoping and counting for an either or, mainly because the PTB were unsure, but they were sure that both Spike and Xander were key."

Spike interrupted into everyone's thoughts. "Please, just come as quick as possible. Every second any of us waste is another second for him to fade. Please, don't make me stake my grandsire."

Riley nodded, in slight disbelief that he was trying to make Number 17 feel better. "Don't worry, Spike. We're on our way."