See Part One for disclaimer and details. Welcome, one and all, to the latest chapter of the fanfic! Like always, we want to express our gratitude to everyone who's been reading the story and who have sent us reviews and feedback and ideas, it's much appreciated. Also, we thought we ought to mention up-front that this chapter has more of the conflict and argument stuff from earlier in the fic, it's necessary for some of the plot developments we have in mind for the future. So having said that, we give you...

Part Seven: Battlegrounds

Restricted area of the coma ward, Wolfram & Hart private hospital

January 25th, 2004

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce wasn't in the best of moods, as he headed for Xander's hospital room that evening.

He had spent most of yesterday and today making arrangements to depart from Wolfram & Hart, in particular clearing out his office and examining the contract he'd signed; to make sure there were no loopholes that the evil law firm could exploit to reel him back in, after he'd left. { Well, thank God I hadn't signed up for that perpetual service thing yet, in exchange for all the knowledge available to the Senior Partners. That would have been a bloody unmitigated disaster! }

Another disaster that had thankfully been avoided was meeting up with Angel again, because Wes honestly wasn't sure whether or not he'd have tried to stake that particular vampire on sight. He didn't care so much about Fred, Gunn and Lorne – most of the bad feelings there had more or less been settled – but Angel was another matter entirely.

As was Cordelia –

Wes had realized not long ago that he needed to have a private talk with the Seer. Because there was something he wanted to ask her – why exactly she'd never come to visit him while he'd been in that medical centre with a slashed-open throat, not even once. Oh, granted, he'd asked Cordelia that after she'd returned from the Higher Realms; but she'd been possessed by then, and so the woman's answer couldn't be trusted now. And somewhat to his surprise, Wesley now found himself wanting to know the real reason why.

Because the Cordelia he'd known since her senior year of high school would have stormed into his hospital room back then, cursing him six ways from Sunday for not confiding in her about the threat to Connor. Supposed threat, anyway. She'd have demanded to know what the hell he'd been thinking, and why he hadn't pick up the phone and called her and Groo immediately. Instead, there had been nothing...

No personal visits. No phone calls. Not even a bloody text message! All of which simply wasn't like the Cordelia Chase he knew.

At that moment, though, Wesley was distracted from his thoughts as an intense white light streamed out through the cracks of the door to Xander's hospital room. Concerned, the former Watcher quickly ran all the way down the corridor to his destination, but just as he arrived the light vanished. Wesley quickly yanked open the door –

Only to find Willow blinking in confusion, and Cordelia supine and unconscious on the floor. { What the... }

"Miss Rosenberg? Willow? Are you all right?" Wes demanded, as the witch turned to stare at him in confusion. "What happened in here?"

"I, I don't...wait, now I remember! That guy..."

"What guy?"

"Ethan. Ethan Rayne! He used a spell on me," Willow abruptly snarled, finally figuring out what had happened. She'd been hit by the British wizard's 'clementia nigrum' spell. Something which, loosely translated from the Latin, meant 'black mercy'; magic which mesmerized the victim into seeing only their true heart's desire, and nothing else which was happening around them.

Willow didn't have time to think about what this really meant with regards to her girlfriend Kennedy, when Wesley asked in concern, "Who's Ethan Rayne? And what sort of spell did he use on you?"

"Uh, he's – he was an old friend of Giles. He's a Chaos mage, and they knew each other way back when. And it was, uh, just a temporary mind-control spell," Willow said, shaking her head a little as if to clear out the cobwebs.

"Mind-control? You mean, like the spell Angel used to make everyone forget about Connor?" Wesley wanted to know.

"Who?" Willow asked in confusion.

"Ah, of course, you've forgotten about him as well. Very well, then. Listen to me very carefully, Willow," Wesley told her slowly. "You're currently under another spell. Your memories have been altered, without your knowledge or consent, as part of Angel's deal with the Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart. Check it out for yourself; there are a number of spells you can use to assess whether or not your brain has been tampered with. And I'd urge you to do so with all possible haste, in order to be the master of your own mind again."

Willow openly gaped at him, before quickly incanting such a spell and going as still as a statue. She then began to trace, one at a time, the lines of memory. Searching, probing, coursing backward and forward along the deeply-buried mental tracks – until at last, she found the scars and breaks resulting from the walled-up area which Cyvus Vail's magicks had created within her right temporal lobe.

Willow didn't hesitate. She reached out a hand that wasn't a hand, but a sense of will and intent and she caught hold of the bricked-up area of her mind, and she pulled with all her mental strength –

Within her brain, there was a miniature lightning storm as Vail's handiwork was torn apart like rice paper, and then Willow remembered.

Very much like two years ago, during that nasty little affair concerning Lethe's Bramble, the memories of the past were released within the witch's mind. Unlike what had happened with Fred and Wesley, though, there wasn't all that much which had been concealed; but still, what Angel had done suddenly infuriated the red-haired woman.

"Willow? Willow, are you all right?" Wesley asked in concern, as her eyes went black for a moment. "Do you, ah, remember now?"

"Yeah. That's why I need to have a little 'chat' with a certain vampire," Willow growled angrily, before she turned around and marched out of the room.

Wesley watched her go, feeling a sudden chill run up his spine. He quickly recalled that old saying about how, if you're unfortunate enough to be captured by the enemy, never ever let them hand you over to the women; and reluctant as he was to admit it to himself, a quick flash of pity for Angel passed through the ex-Watcher's mind.

God only knew what that pissed-off witch was going to do to him soon...

{ Well, it's none of my business anymore, whatever happens, } Wesley shrugged to himself. { Now, getting back to why I came here... }

"Cordelia? Cordelia!" the British man said in concern, lifting her head up off the floor. He patted her face gently, hoping that the Seer had not returned to a comatose state. "Wake up, please!"

"Uh..." Cordy groaned, her eyes fluttering open; much to Wesley's relief. "What..."

"Cordelia, are you all right? Do you need me to get a doc-" Wesley said, before he was interrupted by the Vision Girl throwing herself into his arms and starting to cry her eyes out; the moment she remembered what had happened inside Xander's mind.

Wyndam-Pryce was understandably shocked, because Cordelia almost never cried. In all the years he'd known her, there had only been one or two occasions when she'd done so in his presence. And yet now, she was sobbing and wailing like a schoolgirl who'd just been rejected by an unrequited teenage crush.

Baffled, Wesley held her in his arms and asked Cordelia what was wrong; but he only managed to make out "Xander" and "our children" in between all the sniffling and weeping. So he did what just about any red-blooded Englishman would do in this situation; he held her tightly and murmured "There, there" on occasion, and hoped like hell that the women of the tribe would show up soon – in order to take the responsibility for Cordelia's welfare off his hands.

Not far away, the comatose body of Xander Harris lay as still as the dead, while Wesley offered the Seer what comfort he could.

Inside Xander's mind

A moment later

Curiously, Xander could no longer remember how Cordelia had briefly inhabited the interior of his head. That flash of white light as the Seer had exited his mind had totally scrambled the mental landscape for a moment, and so he couldn't recall that conversation with the brunette beauty any longer.

Be that as it may, though, Xander's – not exactly consciousness, not exactly collective unconscious, but something similar to both yet neither – now found itself in a black room, and in front of him, there was a table and two chairs.

"Sit."

He turned around, to see Shaman Bond standing there. "Huh," Harris mused, definitely not expecting that. "Well, this is weird..."

'Shaman' walked around him, and silently looked him up and down. Xander looked back at the Englishman, and then tried to determine what his companion was looking at. "Okay, buddy, what's going on?"

'Shaman' looked up at Xander, before walking around to the other side of the table. "Siddown, mate."

Harris shrugged and the two of them both sat down on opposite sides of the table. 'Shaman' spoke first, "Who are you?"

Xander looked quizzically at the man. "Xander Harris."

The British guy shook his head. "No, who are you?"

"Alexander Harris?"

'Shaman' shook his head again. "No, really, who are you?"

Xander sighed. "Fine, Alexander LaVelle Harris. And you know how much I hate saying that, Mr. Bond, so I'm totally going to get you back for it one day!"

The burly Englishman smirked again, before he changed into someone else. The new arrival said, "Perhaps you should reconsider, sir."

Xander raised his eyebrows. "Jeeves?"

"Not really, sir," the so-called butler said, as he poured himself a glass of water. "Think of me as a representation of sorts within your mind." 'Jeeves' then filled the other glass, and offered it to him. "Drink, sir?"

"No thanks," Xander shook his head. "I'm not thirsty."

'Jeeves' raised his eyebrows. "You will be soon enough, I believe. Although it's not real water, and we're not really here, sir – it will help you to talk, after a while."

"Again, huh?"

'Jeeves' smiled again. "There's much we need to discuss, sir. Including Chaos."

"Chaos?" Xander echoed. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Who do you know who has an affinity for Chaos, sir?"

Xander blinked. "Well, other than myself, maybe...that guy from Halloween, six years ago. What's-his-name, uh, Ethan Rayne?"

"Very good, sir."

Xander waited for more, but 'Jeeves' apparently had nothing else to say. So eventually Harris said, "Well?"

"Well, what, sir?"

"Why'd you mention his name?"

"I didn't, sir. You did," 'Jeeves' replied politely.

"Well, this is just great. You're being Cryptic Guy, and I'm being clueless," Xander complained. "Makes me feel like I'm back in high school..."

The 'butler' drank from his glass of water before saying, "It's more than likely that a certain situation is coming, sir, and Chaos will become involved."

"Still not following you," Xander frowned. "I mean, even if that's true, what's it got to do with me?"

"You have a vital role to play in said situation, sir," 'Jeeves' said solemnly.

Xander didn't believe that, but decided to play devil's advocate anyway. "Meaning?"

"There's always a way, sir. There are always options. The temptation will be there to simply give up. And I suspect there will come a point, when that will seem to you like the only choice left."

Frowning, Xander asked, "So, how will me not giving up do anything to change that?"

'Jeeves' replied, "Like I said, sir, it's all about Chaos. You're a wild card, a chaos-bringer. That's how you managed to get around that inevitable Pergamum Codex prophecy; how you brought Ms. Summers back to life, all those years ago. Something which, quite frankly, changed the plans that both sides had in store, in a major way."

Xander frowned. "Really?"

"Indeed, sir. By changing one small, specific thing, all the other specifics can change. I'm here to point you in the right direction, and make sure that you retain the appropriate feelings and hunches, for after you wake up. Subtlety is key, here."

Xander frowned over the way 'Jeeves' had stressed the word 'key'. "Key...you mean Dawn?"

"The Key unlocks the barrier between dimensions, sir. And time is a dimension; the space-time continuum is four-dimensional," the butler said, taking another quick sip of water.

"Yeah, I knew that. Not sure whether I remember it from watching Doctor Who or not, but I still knew that," Xander nodded, as he drained his glass of water. "But, so what?"

'Jeeves' sighed in disappointment, before transforming into the image of Dawn. She said, "Ethan Rayne. The Key. Time. That's all the hints you get! You gotta put it together for yourself, Xander; I can't give you all the answers up-front!"

'Dawn' got up, and gave Xander one final piece of advice. "Don't forget about this. The consequences will probably be catastrophic if you do!"

Spike's basement apartment, Los Angeles

A while earlier

William the Bloody had gone through a lot of up's and down's in his time; both as a human, and as a vampire. So over the years, he had developed methods for dealing with his problems.

Some men turned to drink, others to women, others to song – but since he had tried all three for himself and gotten less than stellar results in the past, Spike had decided to go with something else to lift his spirits tonight. Something...novel.

Namely, playing Crash Bandicoot.

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, and I'm gonna make you pay. Oh, yeah," Spike said determinedly, punching the video game control buttons. "Feel my wrath, gorilla throwing barrels!" But then the game made a losing sound and he said forlornly, "Bloody hell!"

Spike pseudo-sighed, continuing to pressing the buttons on the controller as he said, "Really should knock on a bloke's door...especially one that's got no qualms about killing trespassers, right now."

Spike's visitor, a dark-haired young man whose entire body was covered with runic tattoos that were currently hidden underneath his clothes, walked into the apartment anyway. "Come on. Is that any way to talk to your benefactor? Been a little concerned about you. You haven't been out in the field lately, from what I hear."

"I've been out plenty, Doyle. Wasn't that long ago you sent me after that deranged Slayer, and she hacked my bloody hands off!" Spike retorted, still focusing on his video game.

"Yeah, but apparently your buddies at Wolfram & Hart reattached them just fine. So what's all this? Digit rehab?" the man called 'Doyle' gestured to the video game.

"Yeah, well...sorta. Now, are you gonna get to the point of this little visit? Or are you gonna give me that 'the Powers That Be are counting on you to be their Champion' malarkey again?" Spike asked, before 'Doyle' pulled the plug on the TV screen and it went dark. "Oi! I never gave you permission to do that!"

"Well, how else was I gonna get your attention, Spike? Now listen up; I got a vision about Angel and his seer, that Cordelia Chase woman-"

"Old news, mate; I already know all about that," Spike growled, tossing aside the controller and getting up to face his guest. "The whelp went and exchanged himself for the bint; apparently it's a done deal, or whatever."

"Whelp? You mean...that comatose guy I saw in my vision?" 'Doyle' asked, playing his part to perfection in this little acting drama. "You know him?"

"Xander bloody Harris, yeah," Spike almost spat the name out in annoyance. "I'm telling you, even when he's not trying, he still manages to bollocks everything up for me! Straightaway his friends came to town, including that effin' Faith..."

'Doyle' went still at hearing that name. "Faith, the Vampire Slayer?"

"Yeah, that's her. Couldn't keep her bleedin' mouth shut, could she? Bloody well ruined everything for me, where Buffy's concerned," Spike said, starting to brood over what had happened a few hours ago. "I'm telling you, mate, if she showed up here right now-"

"Hey, Spike! Need to talk to-" Faith suddenly barged into the apartment, given that 'Doyle' hadn't bothered to shut the front door behind him. The Slayer's eyes went wide as she recognized Spike's visitor. "You..."

"Piss off," Spike growled, before he noticed how Faith and 'Doyle' were staring at each other, and not him. "What-?"

"Long time no see, convict," 'Doyle' smiled, withdrawing a pocket knife that transformed into a hefty sword. "You're looking good for an escaped murderer..."

The Chosen One roared incoherently, charging forward; but 'Doyle' jumped high into the air, doing a backflip before the battle got started. Faith immediately grabbed one of Spike's weapons and the sword fight began, which also led to the vampire's apartment getting trashed in the process.

"Hey! Watch it, you lot, this is my bloody home you're wrecking!" Spike yelled, scooping up the TV monitor before 'Doyle' could crash into it.

"Then you oughta be more careful who you invite inside, Spike. Lindsey here, he's bad news," Faith said, in between striking at her opponent with all her supernatural strength.

"I could say the same thing about you, Faith. How many murders has it been? Three, including that guy who tried to rape you at that bus depot?" McDonald fired back, desperately parrying the Slayer's blade. { Shit, this bitch isn't holding back at all...I gotta get out of here! }

Unfortunately, Spike was standing in the doorway, barring the exit. "Lindsey? Wot? What the hell's going on 'ere?!"

"Me Faith. Him Lindsey. Wolfram & Hart lawyer, helped send me to jail for twenty-five to life," Faith said before dodging the latest attack and kicking McDonald in the chest, sending him crashing against the wall and leaving a big dent in the sheetrock.

Spike's eyes went wide, as he suddenly realized how he'd been played by the so-called seer. "Oh, you sodding..." Game face appearing the vampire tossed aside the monitor, rushed over to his 'sponsor' with undead super-speed, kicked the sword out of his hand, and grabbed him by the neck. "Been windin' me up right from the start, 'aven't you? That whole destiny thing? Helping the bloody helpless?"

Squeezing Lindsey's throat tighter, William the Bloody added, "People have tried to play puppet-master with me before, mate. Never worked out well for 'em. What's your game, then?"

"Bet you anything that it's got something to do with Angel," Faith said, not even breathing hard as she tossed her weapon to the floor. "Right, Lindsey? 'Cause I heard how he cut your hand off, way back when. Came back looking for revenge, or something?"

"Er some'ing," Lindsey gurgled before Spike let go of his throat, grabbed his right arm and wrenched it behind the lawyer's back.

"C'mon. If it's Angel you want, he can bloody well have you," Spike said menacingly, before he and Faith left the apartment with their prisoner.

CEO office, Wolfram & Hart building

A while later

Angel was reading a legal brief on one of Wolfram & Hart's clients who was up on a racketeering charge, a man named Greenway, when there was a knock at the door. He got up from behind his desk, opened up and saw Buffy standing there. "Hi. I wasn't expecting you to come back..."

"I know. And I'm not okay with regard to what we were discussing before, just so you know. But we still need to talk, especially about Xander," she said, as the young woman stepped inside. "Is now a good time?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Angel shrugged. "And, Xander?"

"Faith told me that one of your people, that Fred person, she promised she'd do everything possible to wake him up," Buffy said, a little uncertainly. "I'm just kinda worried about that, given what Giles told me and Willow on the phone-"

"Fred is the smartest woman I've got working here," Angel interrupted her. "And no matter how pissed she is at me right now, she's too good a person not to do everything in her power to help a man in need."

"Right – wait, why is your friend pissed at you?" Buffy asked, looking confused.

"Same reason that Wes is, actually. Because of the spell that Wolfram & Hart did to erase everyone's memories of my son," Angel confessed.

"Huh?"

"His name is Connor..." Angel then gave Buffy the same speech he'd given Gunn and Lorne, not long ago. And by the time he was finished, the Slayer was looking at him in horror. "Please don't look at me like that, Buffy. I know that what I did was...somewhat extreme..."

"Somewhat extreme?" the blonde woman demanded. "Is that how you see it? Instead of completely criminal?"

"Connor was my son," Angel said, his eyes begging her to understand. "My only child – who was stolen from me as a baby, and raised by my worst enemy to hate and kill me. What would you have done if you were in my shoes, Buffy? What if it had been Dawn who hated you that way, and would never listen to you on anything? And was eventually willing to kill herself and everyone else in that department store, like Connor did?"

The blonde Chosen One shut her mouth, uncomfortably reminded of how her sister had gotten pissed enough for Buffy to suspect that Dawn really did hate her right now. "I don't know, Angel. All I know is, whenever you do something that you know beforehand is wrong – even with the best intentions, it always backfires somehow. Always. Like when my friends wanted to bring me back to life, and they decided to violate the laws of nature – just before they tore my soul out of Heaven..."

At that moment the door was suddenly blasted off its hinges, landing on the floor with a loud 'thump!' before a black-eyed Willow marched into the CEO's office. "Odds are you're going to need a new secretary. Harmony took one look at me downstairs, and ran off screaming," the redhead told Angel brusquely.

"Willow, what are you-?" Buffy started to say.

"Just thought I'd drop by for a little chat with Angel here, about screwing around with people's memories. Something that, to my shame, I happen to have quite a bit of experience in." Willow's black eyes held all of the anger that her calm voice didn't, as she answered Buffy's question. She then focused on the ensouled vampire before saying, "That was a really impressive spell, by the way; you definitely ought to congratulate the caster. If Wesley hadn't told me about it, I wouldn't have been able to undo what had been done to me. Without. My. Permission."

Angel backed away slowly. "Willow, what are you planning to do?"

"Not sure yet. Hey, given everything I did in Sunnydale? Sure, I'm in absolutely no position to throw stones – but just turning the other cheek, after what you did? I don't think so. Hmm, guess one option is to make you forget all about your son. It'd be kinda fitting, I suppose – you being a victim of the same spell you inflicted on everyone else," Willow said way too calmly.

"Uh, Willow..." Buffy began to say uncertainly.

"Then again, I could always undo the soul curse I performed on you instead. Wouldn't take all that much to let Angelus out to play again," Willow added, ignoring her best friend.

"But, but Angel told us – Whistler, he, he said-" Buffy started to splutter.

"Yeah, I know. No more second chances if the soul ever goes bye-bye again, just a big pile of dust on the floor. But unlike that balance demon, I don't need to wait for a moment of perfect happiness," Willow said, advancing forward.

"You really going to kill me for doing what I had to do in order to save my son, Willow?" Angel asked her quietly, whilst backing away slowly again. He ignored how Angelus was howling for Willow's blood with equal amounts of fury and anxiety – as that soulless demon both hated and feared this particular witch, like no one else in the entire world.

"Oh, right, your handsome and yet somewhat androgynous son. The Miracle Child. Someone who's living a lie, who can't even recall who he really is! What do you think would happen, Angel, if I looked Connor up and made him remember what's what?" Willow demanded.

Angel's entire demeanor changed at once. "You're not gonna go anywhere near-"

Willow raised her right hand and gestured. Immediately, Angel's head jerked to the side. Three parallel cuts appeared on his cheek, bloody as if he'd been clawed by a wild beast – just like what had happened to Xander on Kingman's Bluff, way back when. The ensouled vampire put his hand up to his face, and then looked at his bloodstained fingers in astonished disbelief – before Angel focused warily on the black-eyed witch once more.

"You were saying?" Willow asked him in that way-too-calm voice. "And just so it's clear – I have no intention of visiting Connor, wherever the hell you've stashed him. If there's one thing I learned from growing up with Xander, it's that the sins of the father should never be visited upon the son. Besides – Connor doesn't deserve to suffer just because his dad thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants, and that the end justifies the means!"

Buffy was, by this point, getting more than a little worried. "Okay, I, I think that's enough, Will. You've made your point – and if Tara was here right now, she'd be telling you the same thing, I'm sure."

Willow turned to look at her, and Buffy held her gaze without flinching. Slowly, the blackness bled away from her eyes before Willow replied, "Yeah, guess you're right, Buff. But I'm pretty sure Xander wouldn't think that..."

The Summers woman never had a chance to reply, as loud voices outside the room interrupted the conversation – just before Lindsey, Spike and Faith entered into the office. "OW! Hey, watch it, you nearly dislocated my shoulder!" McDonald grumbled at the vampire, as Spike threw him forward and finally released him.

"Tough titties, mate. Oughta do a lot worse, what with you tryin' to bamboozle me like that," Spike fired back, before looking at Angel. "You know this bloody ponce?"

"Lindsey," the Irish-born vampire semi-growled. "What the hell are you doing back in L.A.?"

"I missed you too much to stay away?" Lindsey shrugged nonchalantly. "And what happened to your face, champ?"

Ignoring that, Angel grabbed hold of the lawyer's right arm. He yanked up Lindsey's sleeve and saw the tattoos, before he demanded, "What's all this?"

"Enochian symbols," Willow said, coming over to look for herself. "Probably some sort of protection spell, or something like that."

"Can you get rid of it?" Faith asked, before smirking at Lindsey. "And I wonder what'll happen, if you do?"

"Can't be done," Lindsey said defiantly.

Willow, who was still plenty angry about Vail's memory modification spell, was only too happy to channel that anger into other pursuits. There was a ritual to remove the glyphs from Lindsey's body, to undo the concealment spell known as 'Clouds Before the All-Seeing Eyes.' But with her level of power, Willow didn't need it; she just shouted an ancient, terrible Word, and all the tattoos simply floated up from the man's body and vanished.

"Aggh, damn, that hurt!" Lindsey complained, feeling like his epidermis was on fire or something. "A lot!"

"Worse than when I cut off your hand?" Angel asked, trying not to get too happy about this.

"You-" Lindsey started to reply, before there was a flash of light and a portal shaped like a whirlwind appeared above him. "Oh, crap, it's the Senior Partners..." McDonald muttered, before he was sucked up through the air into the portal, which quickly closed behind him.

"And that just totally makes my day," Faith said with a big smile, as yet another piece of her past was finally put to rest.

Restricted area of the coma ward, Wolfram & Hart private hospital

January 26th, 2004

As the clock ticked past midnight, Wesley checked that Fred had everything under control with Cordelia – thank heavens he'd been able to call her earlier, and the Burkle woman had been able to drop everything and get over here at once – and then he stepped outside into the corridor. Using the speed dial on Willow's cell phone, he quickly phoned the Council's headquarters in London.

"Hello? Willow?" Wesley heard Giles's voice say. "Are you there?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Giles. It's Wesley Wyndam-Pryce here," Wes replied.

"Wesley? Good Lord, man, I-I wasn't expecting to hear from you – and e-especially not using Willow's phone," Rupert's voice sounded very surprised. "What's going on over there?"

"Quite a lot, actually. Mr. Harris is still in a coma – although not for lack of attempting to achieve otherwise, on behalf of an individual named Ethan Rayne. An acquaintance of yours, apparently?"

"Ethan? Oh, y-yes, I know him. Bloody hell, he's finally turned up again? Just marvelous," Giles's voice now sounded very annoyed. "And he tried to wake up Xander, you say? Why? W-what on earth would be in it for him?"

"Well, from what I've gathered, most likely he was hired for the job by Angel's enemies here in a bid to return Cordelia to her comatose state – and strike at him that way," Wes said calmly. "The payment I can't even begin to guess at, unfortunately. Luckily, though, Cordelia had a vision of what would happen, and managed to stop the mage in question from succeeding in his plans. Apparently, this Rayne chap vanished while Cordelia attempted to tackle him to the floor, even though he managed to inflict a 'clementia nigrum' spell on Willow before he disappeared."

"The black mercy? Oh dear. Is, is Willow all right?" Giles sounded concerned.

"When I spoke with her a few minutes ago, she seemed...angry," Wesley said. "But that's neither here nor there right now. Myself, I'm more concerned about moving Mr. Harris to a more secure facility, in order to ensure Cordelia's safety. Because this incident has all the hallmarks of an inside job, so to speak."

"Hmm, I see. What do the doctors say – is the boy in any shape to be flown back to England?" Rupert's voice sounded dubious to Wesley's ear.

Having spoken to Fred and Cordelia's doctor about the subject, Wesley shook his head before saying, "Regrettably, no. And from what I've heard, that might not be the best course of action, anyway – especially given what that Whistler person said yesterday. Apparently, Mr. Harris quit the Council months ago – so I rather doubt he'd want to feel indebted to it, once the coma ends?"

There was a brief silence from England, and Wesley was willing to bet almost anything that his compatriot was polishing his glasses after hearing that. Rupert's voice eventually said, "I, for one, doubt that Xander would want to feel indebted to Angel that way, either. So if it's a case of choosing between the lesser of two terrible evils, a-as it were..."

"I wouldn't have any opinion on that. I no longer work for that vampire, after all," Wesley said coldly.

"You don't?" Giles's voice sounded very surprised after hearing that. "Errr, may I ask what brought this on?"

"An incident which released previously suppressed memories," Wesley said in a clipped, curt tone. "I made it clear to Angel that I didn't appreciate being treated like a marionette which he could manipulate that way, and resigned from Wolfram & Hart forthwith."

"I see. Hmmm," Giles's voice sounded thoughtful now. "I-if that's the case – then may I offer you a job?"

"Me? Work for you?" Wes was stunned. "Work for the Council again?"

"For heaven's sake, man, we're still incredibly short on staff – so if you're available, o-o-of course you're welcome to join us," Rupert's voice said, somewhat testily. "I-it sounds like we need a Council presence in Los Angeles, and you've had at least five years' worth of experience in that city. So I, I can't think of any reason not to hire you – can you?"

Wesley remained silent, thinking it over. "I suppose not. Still, just so it's clear, I haven't made any definite decision yet."

"Then I'll send Andrew over to talk to you about it," Giles's voice sounded very determined as he said that.

"Mr. Wells? Really, Mr. Giles – is that absolutely necessary?" Wes asked in distaste.

"Well, it's more for his sake than yours, um – given that, apparently, h-he's just inadvertently insulted a clan of Miquot demons here in London, and they want Andrew's head on a pike. O-or some such thing," Rupert's voice contained an audible sigh. "If you could...?"

"Oh, very well," Wesley sighed. He then said a brief farewell to Giles, before hitting the Disconnect button. Wyndam-Pryce then looked around at the hospital corridor, feeling somewhat bemused. Five years ago, the offer he'd just received would have been a dream come true, but now?

{ Never mind, there's no rush just yet. I have all the time I need now to make my decision, } Wes thought to himself, feeling an odd sense of freedom for the first time in months. { Yes, I have all the time in the world... }

Or so he thought, anyway.

TBC...