*****

The phone rang just as Wesley shook a pain pill from the bottle and was getting ready to put it in his mouth. Sighing in frustration, he considered ignoring the phone before putting the pill back and picking up the offending instrument.

"Angel Investigations," he said, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at not adding Cordelia's "we help the hopeless" tag, and yet, somehow, he just couldn't quite bring himself to say it.

There was silence on the line.

"Hello?" Wesley said. "Is anyone there?"

"Is Angel there?" a slightly hoarse, male voice asked.

"No, he's out."

"Oh," came the disappointed response. There was another pause, before the voice asked, "What about Cordelia?"

Wesley tilted his head. "I'm sorry, she's gone home for the night. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Silence again. Wesley was about to say something when the voice said," It's just that, well, I wanted to hear a familiar voice. I don't know yours all that well."

"What for?" Wesley asked suspiciously. "Who is this?"

"No one. Never mind. Sorry to bother you. Listen, when you see Angel, tell him I said good-bye."

Even years later Wesley was never quite sure *how * he knew who was on the other end of the line but, in a flash of insight, he simply knew who it was. "Lindsey! Wait. Don't hang up."

He held his breath, waiting to discover if his intuitive guess was indeed correct.

After a long silence that was broken only by the sound of someone breathing, Lindsey asked, "How did you know it was me?"

"I'm not sure," Wesley responded, wondering that himself. "I just . . .realized it, I suppose."

"Oh."

Wesley sat on the desk and thought about what he should say. He wasn't completely sure why he had stopped Lindsey from hanging up. It was not as if he really cared anything about the former lawyer. Beyond the fact that he was as close to being evil as any human could be and had a lovely singing voice, Wesley didn't know anything about him.

But, he did recognize the thin edge of desperation in Lindsey's tone and responded strongly to that.

"Why do you need to talk to Angel?" Wesley finally asked.

Lindsey sighed. "I just . . .I don't know. I'm alone out here, don't know anyone. The night seems . . . big. I needed something familiar."

"Ah." The funny thing was, Wesley understood the feeling. He too had spent many nights, alone and frightened, feeling the vastness of the world around him and how powerless he was. To many nights of counting the sins of his past with no one he could confide in to relieve the burden somewhat. Too many. . .

Yes, Wesley understood the feeling so he really meant it when he said, "I'm sorry he's not here."

"Where is he?"

"Out fighting with Gunn. A demon. He and Gunn are not fighting. Each other that is. Is there anything *I * can do?" Wesley finished, feeling flustered and stupid.

"Talk to me?" was the hesitant answer.

Talk to him. A simple request. It wasn't as if Wesley had anything better to do. And, he was afraid he knew what was going on. After all, he was a close acquaintance with helplessness and, personal feelings for Lindsey aside, the man was still a human being in need of help. And Wesley was born to help.

"Talk to you. About what?" he asked pseudo-casually.

"Anything." The lawyer sounded a touch desperate. "Just please don't leave me alone. I might do something stupid." Wesley heard Lindsey take a deep breath. "I'm holding a knife."

Wesley's breath caught at that fatal pronouncement. There was no anger in Lindsey's tone, just a simple, straightforward declaration of the facts.

"I'm holding a knife."

The former Watcher had to fight to keep his voice steady. "Will you put it down?" His hands began to shake, ever so slightly.

There was a pause. "I don't know if I should," was the careful response. "I. . . I think this might be better."

"Lindsey, put the knife down, talk to me." Wesley said forcefully. As long as he could keep Lindsey talking, things might be all right. He just needed him to put down the knife.

"No. I . . . .I don't deserve it, you know. Anything. Do you know what I've done?" A wildness began creeping into his tone.

"I have an idea. But killing yourself is not the answer. Nor is attempting to cut your hand off." Wesley stuffed his unoccupied hand into his pockets, trying to ignore the tremors.

There were a few pants then, "It's not mine. Not really. It was his. And because of me, they stuck him in a tube and started hacking him to pieces. He was like some fucking piece of meat. What kind of monsters do that? I mean, he was *alive * Wesley. Alive. Alive to tell me to kill him. And I couldn't save him, I couldn't. So now he's dead and I'm wearing this poor man's hand and I know I don't deserve it. I'm not a good person."

Wesley closed his eyes, picturing Lindsey in front of him. In his imagination, the knife was pressed to Lindsey's wrist while the man cradled the phone between his neck and head. The only thing keeping him alive was the connection to another living being. And Wesley, nerves wracked, totally untrained and completely unsuited to deal with another person's potential suicide, was the one who had to keep the connection. "Lindsey, you can't change what happened. Wolfram and Hart did not start harvesting body parts from living people because of you. You just happened to be a recipient. And, what's more, you happened to be the recipient who asked where it came from."

"Only because I thought it was evil."

"You still asked," insisted Wesley. "And you still did what was right without hesitation."

"I hesitated. I asked Angel what to do. I didn't know. What kind of person doesn't know?"

The former watcher chewed on his bottom lip. "Did you want to leave him there? Any of them?"

There was a long silence.

"Lindsey?" Wesley asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

"No," the lawyer answered finally. "I didn't want to leave him. But I worked for the people who did that. If I turned myself in for the crimes I have committed, they would give me the death penalty."

"But that's not necessarily justice. It is punishment, yes, and you should atone for your crimes. But not with death. There is a difference between the law and justice. I'm sure even you know that."

There was a pause before Lindsey asked, "But a life for a life, right? How do you go about paying for a bunch of lives?"

"Not by killing yourself. That is not the answer." Wesley was pacing now, nerves wracked, forcefully trying to keep his voice calm. "Lindsey, put the knife down now."

There was a tense moment of silence. Wesley could feel his heart pounding, the sweat beading on his upper lip before Lindsey angrily said," Fine. Ow!"

"What did you do?" demanded Wesley.

After the space of a few heartbeats the answer was given. "I cut myself."

Wesley closed his eyes. "On purpose?"

"Yeah." His tone was very guilty.

"And?"

Lindsey laughed ruefully. "It hurts."

Wesley nodded. An intense wave of relief rolled over him as the tension broke and he sat in his chair weakly. "Yes, it would. I hope you have learned your lesson. Are you hurt badly?"

"No. Well, kinda, but I'll live. I just need to bandage it up."

"Do you think you need to go to the hospital?"

"If I go then I'll have to hang up with you. I can handle this."

The former watcher pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Good." Wesley blotted his upper lip, wondering why he had been chosen for this duty. Then, he remembered he hadn't, not really. Lindsey was only talking to him because Angel was not present.

He reached for the pill bottle and pulled out a pill.

"Wesley? Are you still there?"

Wesley's hand closed around the pill as he answered, "Yes. What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Just talk to me, I guess. Keep me here. I'm. . . .I'm afraid." The last part came out rushed, as if it were hard for the lawyer to admit.

"All right." Wesley thought a moment. "What should we talk about?"

"Anything. I don't care. How's things in Los Angeles?"

Wesley closed his eyes and rested his head against his fist. "All right, I guess. Lilah Morgan has taken over your position."

"Yeah, I know. I made sure they were going to give it to her before I left. How's she doing?"

"Well, she hasn't your brilliance, but she's . . .well, let's just say that since you've been gone, they haven't been half the threat they used to be. Thank you for leaving."

Lindsey laughed softly. "You're welcome. I had to go. After seeing what I saw and knowing what I do I just couldn't stay." He hesitated. "I . . .Listen, could we talk about something else?"

"Of course." Wesley nodded even though he knew Lindsey couldn't see him. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I don't know." Lindsey sighed, obviously frustrated. "Uh, do you like 'Friends?'"

"The television show?"

"Yes."

Wesley smiled and dropped the pill back in the bottle. Leaning against his chair, he responded," As a matter of fact, I do."

* * *

"Wesley, what are you still doing here?" Angel asked.

Wesley awoke with a start. He was asleep on his desk, phone buzzing next to him, drool trailing down his chin. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around, taking in his surrounding. "I . . .I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?" He checked the phone before hanging up.

"Almost five."

"Oh." He yawned. "Did you and Gunn find the demon?"

"Yes, we did." Angel cocked his head, looking at Wesley carefully. "You look beat. Are you all right?"

The former Watcher stretched, working the kinks from his neck. "After a fashion. The desk is rather uncomfortable."

"I'll take your word for it." Angel's eyes gazed searchingly at Wesley, then scanned the desk. "What were you working on?"

"Nothing," yawned Wesley. Then, "Someone called. They needed help. I dealt with it."

"Then fell asleep?" Angel sounded amused, as if he were talking to a wayward child.

Sighing, Wesley reached for his medication and poured three pills into his hand. He swallowed them without benefit of water and rose, "Yes. It was a long conversation. May I use your shower?"

"You can go home if you'd like to. I mean, if you're not feeling well, there's no reason for you to stick around. I can call you if anything big happens." The vampire sounded almost hopeful to Wesley's ears.

"No, I'm fine. I just need a shower and shave to feel more like myself, that's all," he all but snapped. Closing his eyes, Wesley counted to ten, forcing himself to relax. "My side hurts from sleeping like this. I'm fine."

Angel shrugged. "If you say so. When did the doctor say the pain will go away? I mean, it's been kind of awhile."

"It will go away when it goes away. I'm fine." Wesley walked passed Angel, tucking the medicine bottle into his pocket.

As he left the room, he thought he heard Angel sigh and say, "I wish I could believe you," but it was probably just his imagination

*****
Part 2:

The phone rang, echoing strangely in the lobby of the Hyperion.

"Angel Investigations."

"Hi, Wesley? It's Lindsey."

Wesley, who had been lounging on the couch indolently, sat up, suddenly alert. "Lindsey. Hi. Are you all right?"

"Um," he sounded sheepish. "I had a nightmare. But, it was really bad. I mean, I wouldn't call unless . .except it was . . .look, I'm probably bothering you. I'm sorry. I'll just . . ."

"Lindsey, stay on the line. Don't hang up," Wesley said quickly, doing his best to sound comforting. It had been almost two weeks since Lindsey's suicide attempt and Wesley had been concerned about him. "I understand about nightmares. Bad ones."

After a moment's pause, Lindsey asked gently, "Faith?"

Wesley sighed and rested against the back of the couch. "Yes. Among other things."

Lindsey was silent for a moment. Wesley could hear the rustling of sheets over the line.

"Where are you?" Wesley asked curiously.

"Arkansas. Last time I was in New Mexico. I'm making my way east. I don't know what I'm doing yet. When I hit New York, I figure something will happen. Maybe I'll die."

"Please don't seek death out. Please." Wesley heard his worried and pleading tone and wondered at it.

Apparently Lindsey did too because he asked," Why do you care?" He sounded both annoyed and pleased.

The former Watcher hesitated. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "Maybe it's just in my nature to care."

"Oh." There was a beat of silence as Lindsey digested this. "I'm glad someone can. I certainly can't seem too."

Wesley considered this a moment before replying honestly," Lindsey, I have a feeling that you may care all too much."

This time there was a long silence. The lawyer didn't seem to know how to respond. Finally, he asked, "Where are Angel and the others?"

"Out. Cordelia is at a fabulous party. It's been awhile since she's been to one; she was so pleased she was practically glowing. Gunn and Angel are rescuing some demon slaves from their oppressors."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Angel felt it best that I stay behind," answered Wesley, rubbing his eyes wearily. "He didn't think I was alert enough."

"Not alert? Are you tired or something?"

"No. I think he can tell when I've gone over the recommended limit of pills and uses it as an excuse to leave me behind."

"Pills?" Lindsey sounded confused.

Wesley froze, realizing his mouth was running away without his brain. "Yes," he replied carefully.

"What kind?"

"Um, well, pain medication."

"For what?"

"Well, I was shot."

There was a pause before Lindsey remarked, "You were shot about four months ago. It still hurts?"

Wesley sighed. "It never stops."

"How many pills are you taking a day?" His tone was very stern.

The former watcher hesitated before saying, "Three."

"Three?"

"Or four."

"Four."

"Sometimes."

"And the rest of the time?"

"I don't know. Seven? Eight?"

"Or ten?"

"Not always. But, once or twice."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Wesley!" Lindsey exploded. "Are you fucking insane?"

"No, I . . ."

"I'm going to call Angel. Tomorrow and . ."

"Don't! He knows!" Wesley leapt to his feet, pacing. "What is your calling going to accomplish? He knows, all right, and he doesn't care. Besides, what the hell do you care?" Wesley fired back. "You don't even know me."

"No, but I know about addiction. Even not counting everything I did in college and my first few years with the firm to help me move up and get through the night, all last summer I was hooked on pain medication. Did you notice that I disappeared? Part of that time I was in the firm's rehab center. The hospital prescribed them to me for the pain, but what they didn't know is that the firms healers were taking care of it with magic.

But I was fucked up, so angry and depressed, so I took the pills." He took a deep and audible breath. "They make you feel good, I know. Real good. Everything goes away and you just float. It's the best feeling in the world. But they're a bitch, Wesley, because soon you need them all the time. Life becomes unbearable unless you have that defense. Then you stop caring. About anything. Your life becomes the idea of living, the shadow. You might do things out of habit, but you don't care; all you want is you next pill. Trust me, you don't want to be dependent on them. They don't really make life better; it just gets worse." Lindsey sighed. "I needed them because I hated everything. You shouldn't; you're one of the good guys."

"But I do," replied Wesley softly. "Nothing makes sense anymore. I just .. .for awhile, I was important. I was the leader. Cordelia and Gunn looked to me for guidance, to me for strength. We all depended on each other, but * I* was the leader. Now, I'm a sham. They don't really listen to me, or won't, soon. Angel has already stolen Cordelia away and soon he will have Gunn as well. Angel won't listen to me, or when he does, he has this condescending attitude about him. Deep inside, he *still * thinks I'm his faithful servant, and I can't be that for him anymore. He knows something is wrong with me, but he doesn't care enough to find out. One day I'm going to come into the office and none of them will need me. And it hurts, Lindsey, so badly I can barely stand it. It's one thing to always yearn to be important, to be someone, and never get to taste the beauty and the freedom of achieving your time in the sun. But to have it, for such a brief moment, and then for it to be taken away . . .it's the worst feeling in the world."

Lindsey sighed sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to make it better. But, you all have only been back together for a few months. Give it time. Get off the pills. Drugging yourself isn't going to let you keep your position. It's just going to give him an excuse to take over again. And as for Angel. . .fuck him. I mean, not literally," Lindsey sounded suddenly flustered, "but, just keep reminding everyone who is in charge and, eventually you won't have to remind them. Just, please, please get off the pills."

Wesley sat down again, leaning his head against the cushions. He was breathing heavily, tears threatening. "I'll think about it." Then, uncomfortable with the conversation, Wesley asked," Have you been playing?" he asked. "Music, that is."

"No." Lindsey sounded thrown and mildly upset. "I . . .I can't. I thought it would be easy, but . . ."

Wesley nodded in understanding. "I really think you should."

"You do?" Lindsey sounded amazed.

"Yes. You have a marvelous talent and, even though I know you feel you don't deserve it, you've been given a second chance to share it with the world. Take it."

Lindsey paused a moment before saying, "I'll think about it. Maybe I will."

"You'll call me if you do?" Wesley sounded almost hopeful. As insane as it was, he found comfort in talking to Lindsey.

"Yeah. I will," Lindsey responded, a smile in his voice. "So," he asked, changing the subject, "did you see 'Friends' the other night?"

"Yes. Who the hell was Rachel sleeping with?"

"Yeah, I don't know," Lindsey responded. "I've been trying to figure it out."

"Do you think it was Joey?"

"Naw. I'm thinking Gunther," the lawyer said.

"Gunther?! Does she even really know that he's a man?"

"Well, he was wearing a mask, obviously."

Wesley looked at the phone incredulously. "I beg your pardon?"

There was a grin in Lindsey's voice when he said, "Let me explain my theory."

The former watcher smiled and lay back on the couch, stretching out. "You do that," he said, making himself comfortable.

* * *

Angel walked into the lobby, immediately sensing another person. Sniffing the air as he went further in, he relaxed, recognizing the sent. Wesley.

The former Watcher was deeply asleep on the couch, stretched out, shoes off, phone pressed to his ear.

Angel sighed. He could still smell the drugs in his friend's system, fainter now, but still present, as always.

Except, he supposed that Wesley was not his friend. Not anymore, maybe not ever again. And that was the problem. Angel had known how to fix things with Cordelia, was making a start with Gunn, but had no idea how to proceed with Wesley. He was lost. And every day he had to watch Wesley slip further and further away from Angel, away from the world.

Once upon a time, Angel had liked the dreamy expression Wesley's countenance sometimes took on. It signaled that the young man was imagining something, thinking of something that could be wonderful, could be perfect, but was private. Most important, it meant that Wesley was happy, just for a moment, and the clouds that had been fogging his eyes since his arrival were banished.

Now, however, the expression was appearing too much and had nothing to do with the former Watcher dreaming. That is, dreaming anything that was not drug induced.

It frightened Angel but he didn't know what to do.

Deciding not to wake Wesley, he went upstairs and pulled a blanket off his bed. Walking back to the lobby, he gently took the phone from the sleeping Watcher and covered him with the blanket. Walking to the front desk, he put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he said softly.

There was no answer.

Shrugging, Angel hung up, switched the lights out, and went upstairs to bed.

*****
Part 3:

"Ok, they are at 414 Alhambra," Cordelia said.

"So the attack going to happen sometime tonight?" Angel asked, writing the address down.

The seer nodded. "They were in a bank and on the wall I caught the date." She rubbed her forehead and sighed.

"This is good. Gunn and I will go down around seven, check it out."

Wesley, leaning against the front desk, cradling his head with his hands, looked up. "I'll go too."

Angel shook his head. "Why don't you stay here? Or go home? Get some rest. Eat something."

"Yeah, Wes. You need food," Gunn said. "You've lost so much weight that Cordelia is jealous. And if I have to listen to her bitch about it one more time. . . ."

"Excuse me," Cordelia interrupted archly, raising an eyebrow. "I have no trouble with my weight, so I never worry. Besides, if I lost as much as him, I'd be freaked." She looked pointedly at the donuts that Angel had bought and set on the desk.

Wesley ignored her gaze. "I'm fine. Let me go." He winced, hating the fact that he sounded as if he were begging.

Gunn shrugged. "It's ok with me. We can get food on the way to the . . ."

"No. He stays here," said Angel firmly, eyes on Wesley.

Wesley pushed away from the front desk. "Fine. But report back to me while you're out. I *am * still in charge. Excuse me." The former Watcher left the lobby, heading for the bathroom. On the way, he pulled out his medication and downed four pills.

He closed the door firmly, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He couldn't breath. Everything was a mess. Once again, Wesley had lost control. It was just like before, back in Sunnydale, except then he had never gotten the chance to be in charge. His life was one big fuck-up.

Wesley leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face. Rising, he looked at his reflection.

He *had* lost a lot of weight, his face thin and pinched behind his glasses, his clothes baggy. It was to be expected, of course, since he rarely ate. He wasn't hungry, that was all. Nothing tempted him.

Nothing at all, not sweets, not fruits, not meat, not anything.

"Your life becomes the idea of living, the shadow," Lindsey's words floated back to him.

"Oh my God," Wesley whispered. "Lindsey was right." It wasn't just the food, it was everything. He didn't care about anything except not hurting. He didn't even really care about going out, maintaining his position. Wesley just knew that it was what he was supposed to want, so he went through the motions.

The realization settled in his stomach unpleasantly. Kneeling, he put the seat of the toilet up and forced himself to throw up the pills.

When he was done retching, shaking and sweating, he managed to open the bottle of pills and pour them into the toilet. Flushing, he leaned against the wall, gasping for air, the sour taste of resolve in his mouth.

He was through.

* * *

"Wesley, you don't have to be here," said Angel as Wesley walked into the office, sweating profusely.

"Fuck you."

Angel, mindful of the fact that Gunn and Cordelia would be arriving soon, grabbed the former Watcher, and pulled him into Wesley's office. Throwing the ill man into his chair, Angel said furiously, "What the fuck do you want from me? Huh? Why don't you just tell me because I don't know what to do here. You are acting like a royal brat! You're sick and whiny and. . .and bad tempered. And you act like you're blaming me, like this is all my fault. You did this to yourself by popping those pills and . . .

"You knew! I knew you knew!" Wesley rose, his face turning red. "You fucking bastard! Did it ever occur to you to try and stop me?"

"Stop you? How? You're an adult, I can't just tell you what to do." Angel rubbed his temples. "I thought that by not allowing you to fight, by not allowing you to participate in our work that you would come to the conclusion yourself that the pills weren't the way to go. I expected you to be responsible and stop taking them."

Wesley gazed at Angel in amazement. "You what? You expected what? Why didn't you just tell me to stop? Let me know that you cared enough to be worried? I'll tell you why: because you really don't care. You were hoping that I would drug myself into insensibility so you could take my position away from me just like you took Cordelia and . . ."

"I didn't take Cordelia! I wanted her to forgive me so I . . ."

"Why don't you want me to forgive you?" Wesley screamed, tears spilling out of his eyes. "I'm angry at you too! I hate you too! But you just assumed that I would always be yours, didn't you? I am *not * yours anymore, Angel. I fell out of love with you. I've been disillusioned. I've grown up." His stomach heaved a few times, but he managed to keep his food down.

Angel ran his hand through his hair, biting his lip. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just watched Wesley as he stood here, breathing heavily, anger coursing though his veins. "I didn't know how," he finally admitted quietly. "I knew how angry you were and was scared. Of you. I wanted so badly to make things right with you, but didn't have the first clue how. You're so good at hiding things, your feelings and . .I knew that although you seemed to accept me, that you hadn't. And I didn't realize . . .you were in love with me?"

Wesley slid weakly to the floor, leaning his back against the desk. "In an idealized fantasy kind of way. But, more importantly, I thought I was your friend. And you rejected me."

"I'm sorry. I am, truly sorry. Tell me, how can I make this up to you?"

"You don't respect me, Angel. Ever since you came back, even before the pills, I never felt that you did." The gray eyes looked into Angel's "Please, I know that I don't deserve any respect after this . . .after allowing myself to become so dependent on these drugs, but at least make me feel as if you respect me as a human. At the very least."

The vampire nodded and gently reached out to touch Wesley. "I can do that. I do respect you, Wesley. I really do," The phone rang. Angel brushed his fingers through Wesley's hair, then reached up to answer the phone. "Angel Investigations." A moment later, he glanced down at the shaking man. "Can you take a call?"

Wesley reached his hand up. "Hello?" he said into the receiver.

"Hi, Wesley. It's Lindsey."

"I hate you!" Wesley snapped. Then, "No, I don't. I'm sorry. Please don't hang up."

There was the briefest of pauses before Lindsey asked, "Did you go off the pills?"

"Two days ago. I hate this. Oh fuck." He quickly sat up, grabbed the waste basket, and threw up.

Angel was at his level immediately, supporting him, stroking him and making soothing sounds. When Wesley was done, he leaned against Angel weakly, bringing the phone back to his ear. "I really hate this," he said again.

"Do you want me to call back later?" asked Lindsey.

"No. I can't do this alone. Please stay with me."

"Yeah, I will."

"Hold on." He pulled the phone away and looked up at Angel. "I need some privacy."

The vampire shook his head. "Not here. Hang up and have him call my private line. Upstairs. You'll be more comfortable in my room. If Cordelia or Gunn asks, I'll just say you weren't feeling well, or something. They'll understand."

Wesley shook his head. "I feel like an idiot."

"You're not."

Sighing, Wesley brought the phone back to his ear. "Um . . .can you call me back?"

"Yeah," answered Lindsey.

Wesley gave him the other number and hung up. With Angel's help he rose, walking to the door.

"Who is that, anyway? The voice sounded familiar."

Wesley gave his friend a ghost of a smile. "Just a friend." With that elusive answer, he left.

Moments after he lay down in Angel's bed, the phone rang. "Hello?"

"It's me," Lindsey said. "How are you doing?"

"Not well. I feel horrible."

"It's rough, I know," Lindsey said soothingly. "But it'll be worth it. You'll be a much stronger person without the pills."

"He said he didn't know what to do," Wesley said, a tear sliding out of the corner of his eye. "That he knew I was taking too many pills, but didn't know how to tell me to stop. I told him I hated him."

"Good," Lindsey said vehemently. "He needs to hear it once in awhile. He should have helped you, confronted you."

Wesley wiped his eyes with the sheet. "No. I did this to myself; I should have stopped myself." He sighed heavily. "I am such a fool."

"No. Please, don't. I know my opinion's not worth much, but I don't think you're a fool."

Wesley sighed and smiled. "No. Your opinion means a lot. Oh, God." He began shivering harder, his body wracked with pain.

"Wesley, what can I do?" Lindsey asked, sounding helpless.

"I don't know. Just talk to me." Wesley rolled over and pulled the covers over him, striving for comfort.

"Talk to you," Lindsey repeated. "I'm playing tonight. I was at an open-night mic last night and this bar manager heard me and he wants me to play at his place tonight."

"Lindsey, that's wonderful."

"I still feel kind of guilty."

"Don't. It's all right. You are alive and should be living." He rubbed his cheek against the coolness of the satin sheets.

"Do you want me to play anything for you?" asked Lindsey, almost shyly.

Wesley sighed. "Yes, defiantly. Please do."

Over the line, Wesley could hear Lindsey moving, then caressing the strings of his guitar before launching into a song. As the almost angelic voice floated over the thousand miles distance to lap gently at his ear, Wesley's eyes fell shut, his body relaxing. Lindsey's voice was a like a drug, he decided, but one with much less harmful side effects and much nicer benefits.

*****
Part 4:

"You were awesome, man!" Gunn exclaimed as he, Wesley, and Angle entered the lobby a week later. "Where did you learn to use a sword like that?"

Wesley blushed, his eyes shining. "It was nothing."

"Nothing!" Catching sight of Cordelia, Gunn said, "Cordy, you should have seen him. Swush swish," Gunn demonstrated Wesley's moves with an imaginary sword, which made Wesley blush harder.

Angel clapped a hand on the blushing man's shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze that was almost a caress. "Don't be humble, Wes. You did really great."

Wesley was sure the look he gave Angel was too close to adoration, but he couldn't help it. He didn't adore Angel, but praise from the stoic vampire still provoked that kind of response, no matter how he felt. "Thank you."

"It's good to see you fighting again, Wes," Cordelia said. "Oh, someone just called for you. He sounded really upset, but wouldn't leave his name."

"Oh," answered Wesley, a feeling of foreboding entering him. "Thank you."

"Well, I'm going to clean up the weapons. Gunn, want to help?"

"Yeah. Wes?"

Wesley shook his head. "I'm feeling a bit hungry. Do you mind if I eat first?"

Angel pushed him towards the kitchen. "Go. Eat. You're too thin." With those final words, the vampire and Gunn left.

Wesley grabbed a muffin from the kitchen, then went into his office. Closing his door, he sat, gazing at the phone.

There was no reason to pick it up. He had no proof it was anyone. It wasn't Lindsey. Most likely. And, if it were, he would call back later. Right?

Feeling foolish, Wesley picked up the phone and dialed star 69. It traced the last call, and dialed.

At five rings, Wesley tried to convince himself he was being foolish.

At ten, he began drumming his fingers on the desk.

At fifteen, he began to feel ill from anxiety.

At twenty, he began to try and convince himself to hang up.

At twenty-five, he was about to put the receiver down when the ringing stopped and someone demanded, "What?"

"Lindsey, it's me! It's Wesley."

There was a moment of tense silence before Lindsey started weeping. "Why did you have to call, Wesley? Why did you have to interrupt me? I would have been gone, paid for my crimes, out of your life. Why?"

Wesley's breath caught. "I don't want you out of my life, Lindsey. What's going on?"

"He's here," whispered Lindsey in terror. "He's been here all day. I can see him. God, he looks terrible. Waving his stump around, half dead. Like a fucking zombie. Why won't he go away?"

This was bad; he knew that Lindsey had been depressed and guilty, but delusional? This was a new development. Keeping his voice steady, Wesley said, "Lindsey, he's not there. He's dead. He's . ."

"No! Get the fuck away from me! What do you want from me. Go away!" Wesley heard three gun shots fire.

He leapt to his feet. "Lindsey!"

Lindsey was panting. "He's gone. Where'd he go?"

"He's not there. He's not real. Put the fucking gun down now! Do it now!"

Something thudded over the phone and then there was the sound of a door slamming. "It's down. Oh my God. I had that thing to my head. Of fuck."

Wesley heard the sound of retching.

"What the hell is going on, Wesley?" Lindsey asked weakly, sounding scared.

"Have you been suicidal lately?"

"Not since that first night, I swear. It's just, this morning, I woke up and it all closed in around me." He was breathing heavily.

Wesley fought to keep his voice calm, although he wanted to scream and demand to know what was going on. He wished Lindsey was there so he could hit him. Or shake him. Or . . ."Describe to me what happened," he said, breaking off his line of thinking.

Lindsey made a few sounds as if he were going to be ill again, then said, "I woke up and it was like everyone whose death I'd been a part of was here. Everything I've been hiding, every sin on my soul that I've repressed was suddenly in my mind, in my eyes. Then *he * came. They were all accusing, telling me I needed to die. I tried to fight them, but it was all so much. Then, I called you and you weren't there and he came and was. . .he wouldn't leave me alone and all I wanted to do was end it."

Wesley rubbed his eyes, thinking. "Describe how you physically felt."

"Uh, sick. My stomach was kinda queasy and I couldn't stop sweating. My vision's funny. Everything looks kinda distorted."

"Did anything happen last night? Did you drink anything unusual?"

Lindsey was silent for a moment. "I played a gig and this guy bought me a drink."

An intense wave of jealousy hit Wesley, which was foolish because someone buying Lindsey a drink while he played didn't mean anything. Lindsey wasn't gay and, besides, Wesley didn't care.

"Did you see it being made?" he asked, forcing his jealousy down.

"No."

Wesley exploded, rage coursing though him. "Are you stupid? Never accept a drink from a stranger unless you see it made!" He broke off, biting his tongue, knowing that lecturing wouldn't help the present situation. Instead, he said, "I think you've been enchanted. Probably Wolfram and Hart are trying to get you to kill yourself. Where are you? What city?"

"Nashville."

Wesley opened the door, looking at the front office. "Cordelia?"

She exited the kitchen. "Yeah?"

"I need you to find the number of a magic shop in Nashville."

"Tennessee?"

"Yes. Quickly, please."

She sat down at the computer. "On it."

Wesley went back into his office, closing his door. "How are you doing?"

"I locked myself in the bathroom. There's nothing in here to hurt myself with, but I'm calmer now. You do that to me."

He smiled and sat down. "Let me give you my home number so you don't always have to call me here. I don't live here."

"Yeah, I know. Which is probably a good thing. I mean, you not living there. With Angel. Not that I hate Angel or anything. . .well, I do, but, uh, if you were living with him, and ok. . . um, what were we talking about?"

"I was going to give you my home number."

"Oh, right."

Wesley, wondering about Lindsey's ramble, gave the man his number.

"Thanks," Lindsey said. "How are you doing? It's been what? A week without pills?"

"Yes." Wesley sighed. "It's hard, sometimes. Everything in me was so dependent on them. They kept me company, comforted me. Angel has been attentive. Over attentive, sometimes. He hovers, he smothers, he forces me to eat, makes me rest. It's different."

"I guess it's better that than ignoring you," Lindsey said, his voice odd.

"I guess."

Cordelia stuck her head in the office. "Here you go. Do you want me to call them?"

"No, I've got it. Thank you."

"No problem." She left.

"Lindsey? Give me your number. I'm going to have to hang up and call the shop, telling them your problem. I'll call back."

"Ok." Lindsey gave the number.

Wesley wrote it on a notepad, then tore the paper off, leaving the pad on the desk.

"You won't be long?" asked the former lawyer tentatively.

"I hope not. Will you be all right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

Lindsey hung up the phone, leaning his head back against the wall. He still felt sick and scared. But not as scared as he had been. Wesley would take care of this. Take care of him.

He closed his eyes, trying to summon the image of Wesley Whyndam-Pryce to his mind. There had been a picture of him in Angel's files that Lindsey had looked at a few times, trying to figure out how to use the former Watcher against the vampire. Now he wished he had paid more attention to him.

It wasn't right to only have a vague mental image of someone who was so very important to you. Not right at all.

* * *

"Why did he need a number for Nashville?" Angel asked Cordelia.

She shrugged. "I don't know. He sounded worried. Maybe someone needed help and, God forbid, he helped." She slung her purse over her shoulder, gazing at Angel. "This overprotective thing is cute, but don't push it. He does need space, you know. Secrets."

"But he seemed upset, you said."

"A bit. But he's fine, Angel."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess. Ok, so, you're going?"

"Yes, I'm off. Anne invited me over to help with this party thing at the shelter so, I go. I'm all about community service."

"Not to mention cute blond women," Angel added.

She grinned. "It's a sacrifice, but, yeah. So, see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Angel waited until she was gone before going to Wesley's office.

Wesley had torn the top page from the notepad, but that didn't phase the vampire. After all, he was a detective - sort of. He rubbed a pencil over the marking until the number became clear.

Angel picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Hello?" a voice answered.

The vampire didn't say anything.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

He got it. Angel recognized the voice.

"Wes?"

He slammed the phone down. Why the hell was Lindsey calling Wesley? And, more importantly, why hadn't Wesley told Angel that Lindsey was calling him?

*****
Part 5:

A thousand miles apart, Wesley and Lindsey watched together as Meg Ryan had an orgasm over a sandwich.

Lindsey cracked up. "I love this scene," he said. "That . . ."

"Shh!" Wesley shushed fiercely.

Lindsey fell silent long enough for the woman on screen to say "I'll have what's she's having."

"Sorry," Wesley said, grinning. "I love that line."

"No problem." Lindsey sighed. "See, that's why I like men better than women. With a man, you know what you're getting; it's very hard to fake anything. I mean, they can not be there mentally, but how often is that going to happen? If they come, they're really coming, none of this faking shit."

Wesley found he couldn't breathe. He was blushing, heart pounding. Lindsey and men? He had no idea. Not that it mattered what gender Lindsey preferred, but it was interesting to note.

He couldn't believe how easy it was to lie to himself, even when he didn't believe it.

"Wes?" Lindsey said softly, hesitantly.

Taking a deep breath, Wesley replied, "Yes." His voice cracked and he swallowed. "Yes, I know what you mean." That was all he said, all he could say. But he knew Lindsey understood.

After a moment of silence, Lindsey continued," Of course, the down side is that the body of the human male is so damn easy to manipulate. Even if you don't want to, a few touches in the right place and . . ." He trailed off.

"Who?" Wesley asked softly.

There was a rustle of sheets. "Holland, mostly. Some of the demon clients."

"I'm sorry."

"There was actually a clause in my contract that stipulated that I whore myself out as pleased the senior partners. I knew what I was getting into."

"Does that really matter?"

"No. But, I'll survive. I was born a survivor."

"I'm glad." There was a knock at the door. "Some one is at the door." He slipped out of bed.

"Wesley, I need to say something," Lindsey said at the same time.

"Yes?" Wesley asked, stopping in his tracks, heart pounding.

The person knocked again, harder.

"It's just.. . ."

"Wesley?" Angel's voice called though the door.

"Oh bloody hell," Wesley groaned. "Angel is here."

Lindsey sighed. "Why don't you take care of him, then call me back?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Wesley hesitated, then said, "I call as soon as I can. Bye."

"Bye."

Wesley hung up, put phone down, and opened the door. "Hi. Is something wrong?"

Angel held up a paper bag. "No. I just dropped by for a late night snack. Am I interrupting something? I heard you talking," The vampire stepped into Wesley's apartment, glancing around before heading for the kitchen.

"I was on the phone," Wesley answered, wearily. He did not want Angel here. Of all the dumb luck. Still, he had asked for a little attention from Angel and now he was getting it in spades.

Be careful what you wish for.

"You seem to be on the phone a lot, these days," Angel called from the kitchen. Wesley heard the sound of water, then the stove turn on.

"Not really," Wesley answered, joining the vampire.

Angel, who was in the process of digging a plate from the cupboard, as well as a tea cup, glanced over at Wesley. "Well, you've fallen asleep twice now at the Hyperion with the phone glued to your ear in the last few months. All this week, any time I try to call you at night, the phone's busy and those few days you were in heavy withdrawal, you spent all day on the phone."

"All this is, of course, very odd, considering that I have no friends, right?"

"That's not what I meant." Angel handed Wesley a plate with a pastry on it. "I just . . well, suddenly, you seem to have this friend, but you never talk about him to any of us. At least, not with me."

Wesley tilted his head, looking at Angel in a new way. "Is this a subtle way to inquire as to whether or not *we * are friends?"

Angel shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know." He checked the tea, then pulled some sugar out of the cupboard.

The former Watcher sighed. "I don't know either. I don't know how I feel anymore." He began pulling the pastries apart, fingers restless. "About anything. Everything is so confusing."

Angel finished making the tea and sat across from Wesley, handing the steaming cup to him. "I'm trying not to push, but it's hard. I had to watch you isolate yourself for months. You're getting better, but I still feel as if you are holding me at a distance, not even willing to give me a chance. All I want is a chance."

"I know." Wesley took a sip of the tea, relaxing slightly with the peppermint flavor. "I'm trying, but. . .I think, sometimes, that my nature is to trust. I want to trust you, but that part of me that was so incredibly hurt hasn't healed yet. It's a reflex, one that wants to push you away."

"Wesley, I'm sorry."

Wesley put his hand on Angel's leg. "You can keep saying that, but it won't necessarily wash it all away. Only time and . . . and commitment can do that."

"I can be committed." Angel grinned. "In more ways than one." He covered Wesley's hand and squeezed. "I'll wait.

A smile touched Wesley's lips. "Thank you." He turned back to the pastry, putting a piece in his mouth.

"I miss this," the vampire remarked, sounding wistful. "You and me, hanging out. Remember how we did it a few times before my building blew up? And then over the summer at Cordy's?"

Wesley smiled. "Yes, I do. That's how you learned to make my tea the right way, always an important thing. And how I found out about your weakness for romance novels. Really, Angel." Wesley shook his head with mock disappointment.

"They aren't all bad, if you can get passed the plot," protested Angel.

"All the plots are the same!"

"Exactly. And once you get passed it, there are some enjoyable aspects to them." He grinned and shook his head. "What's the stupidest thing you ever did?"

"What?"

"It's a game. What's the stupidest thing you ever did?"

Wesley shrugged. "You mean besides getting addicted to pain pills?"

"Yes."

"I don't know." He took a bite of the pastry, chewing thoughtfully. "When I was in school I fell in love with a professor. I wrote him a few revealing letters and they, of course, fell out of my folder and some students found them. And posted them. Where everyone could see. Where he could see." Wesley's cheeks turned pink as he remembered the incident. "He was very kind, very lovely about it. He explained why it couldn't be, as if I didn't know, and told me not to be embarrassed. The day I left school, well, he changed his mind. And. . ." He trailed off, eyebrow raised.

"On school grounds?"

Wesley closed his eyes. "In his office. And my father found us. Do you know what made him the angriest about the whole situation?"

Angel leaned forward. "What?"

"That he was a lower class than I. Nothing more. " Wesley gave a wry smile. "One of the, perhaps, many stupid things I have ever done."

"Was he your first?"

Wesley smiled sadly. "No. Not the first. What was the stupidest thing that you've ever done? Beyond the obvious."

"Oh, I'd have to say sleeping with Lindsey."

Wesley choked on his tea, face turning red as he coughed. "What?" he rasped.

"I slept with Lindsey," Angel repeated. "Back when he came for help to get those kids? We slept together a few times."

"Oh," the distraught man managed to get out after a few breaths. "I didn't know."

Angel leaned back, smiling. "Now, don't get me wrong. He was awesome in the sack. He must have spent most of his life in that position. And so easy. I hardly had to say anything and he was panting for it. Let's see, I had him in my office over the desk, in my room, in the shower, on the stairs. . .I had him suck me off in my car, on the way home. Then . . ."

Wesley rose abruptly. "I'm feeling suddenly very tired," he said, unable to meet Angel's eyes. "I think I would like to go to bed."

"You hardly ate anything," protested Angel.

Sighing, he picked up the pastry and took a big bite. "Happy?" he said around a mouthful.

Angel shrugged and rose. "Well, ok. I hope you sleep well."

"Oh, trust me" Wesley told him with a faint smile, "I will."

"Good night." Angel touched Wesley's cheek gently, then left.

For a long moment Wesley stood, gazing at the door. Sighing, he went back into his room. He sat on the bed, turning the video off then turned his gaze to the phone. After a long moment of deliberation, he picked it up and dialed.

Lindsey picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Did you sleep with Angel?"

"What?"

"*Did you* sleep with Angel?" Wesley demanded again.

"Well, yeah, but . . ."

"Thank you." With those final, quiet words, Wesley hung up.

* * *

"Why don't you leave your name?" Cordelia demanded. "You've been calling for two days straight! No, Wesley is not available. No, I can't tell you when he . .Hey!" She exclaimed as Angel snatched the phone.

"Hey. This is Angel. Wesley is not available to talk and you don't seem to understand that."

"What did you say to him?" the voice on the other side demanded angrily.

"I beg your pardon?" Angel asked politely, a smirk forming on his lips.

"What did you say to Wesley?"

"Who is this?"

"Don't fuck with me, you prick! Tell me what the hell you said to him!"

Angel blinked acting shocked for an audience that couldn't see him. "Boy, someone certainly has a potty mouth." Then, because Cordelia was looking at him as if Angel had grown another head, the vampire walked away to get some privacy.

"What did you tell him about us? Huh? Did you make me sound like some fucking whore? Your little butt boy? Did you tell him that I'll fuck everything that moves and seduced you then left you? What did you tell him?"

"Oh, Lindsey?" Angel allowed wonder and sudden enlightenment to color his tone.

There was the sound of something breaking. "Fuck!" the lawyer swore softly before saying, "Yes, this is Lindsey. What did you tell him?"

"The truth. That you acted like a slut. That I barely had to ask before you were whoring yourself in my bed. Tell me, Linds, do you really think he wants my discarded goods?"

"Why did you have to fuck this up for me?" Lindsey asked, sounding defeated. "This was the one thing I had going for me. I did what you wanted; I got out of L.A. I wasn't going to come back. Why?"

Possessive anger took over and Angel lowered his voice to a growl. "Listen to me, Lindsey. Stay away from him. I mean it. I think he's made it clear by now that he doesn't want anything to do with you. I don't know why you've been calling him or what the hell has been going on, but it stops now. Leave him alone."

There was a silence a moment before Lindsey asked," Angel, do you want him? Is that what this is about?"

For a long moment, the vampire didn't say anything.

Lindsey laughed bitterly. "Christ, it is. You want him. And you're getting rid of the competition."

"Leave him alone," Angel said, before hanging up. For a moment, a bit of doubt crept into him, before he firmly chased it away, feeling smug and triumphant instead.

*****