•••

"Ok, Soulboy, cough it up," Xander said, flopping down on Wil's bed. He'd just gotten out of the shower, and Oz, and was hyper. "What exactly did you find?"

Wil looked over at the bed. He'd wanted to lie down, but it wasn't to be. The vampire had gotten done looking over the materials he'd picked up off the guy he'd rolled and had spent several minutes researching what he'd found on Wesley's computer while the faun was washing slaying grime off. Now Xander was here, which meant no bath for Wil. "Actually, not much."

"Not much?" Xander said hopefully. "As in 'you think this is a fluke vision and we can go home' not much?"

Wil shook his head. "No, more of a 'very small amount of very telling evidence' not much."

"Fuck," Xander said succinctly. "What, exactly, did you find?"

"Lawyers," Wil replied.

The utter silence that filled the room was broken by the sound of Xander thumping his head against the wall. "No."

"No?" Wil echoed.

Xander shook his head vigorously. "No. No, you did not find lawyers. No, you did not find a connection to Wolfram & Hart. No, we're not exchanging our return-trip tickets so that we can stay and investigate the connection to those goddamned lawyers that you just found!"

"They were one-way tickets anyway," Wesley murmured.

Xander's jaw dropped. "WHAT!?"

Wil cocked an eyebrow. "Didn't you pay attention to Cordelia? She got us one-way tickets, figuring that we'd get stuck over here and let them lapse and have to buy more. Two one-way tickets ended up being logical."

Xander slid down on the bed. Wil frowned when he saw the Raphe wipe snot on his bedspread. He was not going to sleep on some demon's snot rag! Xander jerked up when a damp bath towel landed on his face. "What is this for?"

"Wipe your bleedin' nose on that, not on my bed, git," Wil growled. "Look, I know you don't like this, but we can't just leave. There's a reason why we've been sent here."

Wesley nodded. "What, exactly, did you find?"

Wil sat down on Wesley's bed and threw down a small stack of cards and things. "Like I said, not much—but there were some business cards. The name matches the ID and the guy I rolled. Law firm—Easton, Ginnis and Ralls."

"And that's significant how?" Xander asked.

"They're part of Wolfram & Hart," Wil explained. "Significant enough for you?"

Xander paled. "No."

"I believe you've said that several times, Xander," Wesley said snidely.

"I'll say it again," Xander replied. "No."

Wil ignored the boy. "I'll call Angel and the others. Wesley, we're going to need somewhere else to stay in London. We can't live in this hotel for very long." Wesley nodded and stood up.

"I'll use the phone in Xander's room, if he will accompany me," Wesley said firmly, practically ordering the distraught Raphe to go with him. Once he was alone, Wil picked up the telephone and called Angel.

"Angel?" Wil murmured when the phone picked up.

"Wil?" Angel replied. "Is everything ok?"

Wil laughed harshly. "No one died, if that's what you're asking, and the demons have been taken care of."

"What is it?" Angel asked immediately. He could tell something was wrong.

"We can't come home yet."

"Why not?" Angel practically shouted. They'd saved the people and dispatched the demons. Why couldn't they just catch the next flight?

"Wolfram & Hart."

"Fuck."

Wil chuckled again. "Pretty much what we've been saying. Now you see why we can't just leave?"

A long silence answered him.

"Angel?"

"Yeah, I see," Angel whispered. A noise on Angel's end of the line caught their attention. "Cordy just had a vision. I've got to go. Look, call me soon, ok? We'll work this out."

Wil stared at the dead phone for a long time. He wanted to be in L.A. so badly he was almost in tears. Now he didn't even know how long it would be before he could get back there. If he even made it back.

•••

"Ok, I was wrong."

Wil turned to Xander, who was staring at the kitchen of their new flat. "How so?"

"That hotel we were at? It was great, marvelous, perfect. Can we go back?" The Raphe took another fleeting glance around the tiny apartment. "Please?"

"It's not so bad," Oz murmured quietly. He'd lived in worse—including his van. Ever since Xander had come back into their room, accompanied by Wesley, the werewolf had been working overtime to calm down the excitable seer. He understood Xander's anxiety, and felt quite a bit of it himself. He simply didn't show it.

"I realize that it isn't up to your lofty standards," Wesley said. "However, it is all we can afford at the moment. Besides that, it is excellent camouflage."

"Huh?" Xander grunted, wondering if the dirt he'd just spotted on the counter was moving, or if he was simply hallucinating.

"The Watchers' Council knows I am here—and while they probably won't take any direct action now, if they discover Wil, they will probably try something. They think they know me and could never imagine that I would stay in this neighborhood."

"Why not?" Xander asked, trying to muster the courage to wipe the counter off.

"This slum's a bit below your family, isn't it?" Wil asked the Watcher. Wesley nodded.

"Quite a bit. It's not that bad, though," Wesley replied, looking around. "At least it's furnished."

"If you say so," Xander muttered. He wasn't sure he'd call the sagging, smelly mattresses and beat-up chairs furniture. He was slightly mollified to find that the water ran clear instead of brown, though. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

"So, what exactly are we going to do about this law firm?" Wesley asked, leaning up against one wall.

"Good question," Wil replied, taking a seat at the rickety kitchen table. "Cordelia said that she and Fred were going to work on the connection to Wolfram & Hart as much as they could, but that there was much we would have to do ourselves—which means Wesley for the most part."

"Wesley?" Xander echoed. "Why him?"

"Because I have more connections here," Wesley replied. "And while most of them are now out of reach, a few are not."

"What does that mean?" Xander asked. "Besides the fact that your old Watcher buddies aren't going to help us?"

Wesley smiled slightly. "I was never quite as…staid as Giles would have had you believe," The Watcher replied.

"You bad man, you," Xander admonished, smiling. "What can these contacts get us?"

"I'm not completely sure; it has been several years since I've talked to most of them. If I can find them, and they'll still talk to me, they have good connections inside the nonhuman community here," Wesley said. "So they may be able to tell us if this law firm is a major player in town."

"Oz, will you go with Wesley when he meets his contacts?" Wil asked the werewolf.

"Sure," Oz said, shrugging.

"Why Oz?" Xander inquired.

"You and I are liabilities," Wil replied.

"Not understanding," Xander said sharply. "How are we liabilities?"

"You don't know the city and have a tendency to have visions without warning. I am a rather infamous master vampire that the Watchers' Council would adore to have on their wall, figuratively at least. If you and I stay here, we can take care of any visions you have, and Oz can go with Wesley to make sure nothing happens to him," Wil explained.

"Ok," Xander murmured, a bit mollified. He didn't like being seen as a burden, but he understood the logic. Besides, he of all of them knew the most about Cordelia's research, so he would be the one organizing anything she sent. "If we're gonna be here for very long, we need to get internet access and a few cell phones, though."

"Which you and I will do while Wesley and Oz are out," Wil replied. "Along with some other errands."

•••

Xander looked around the now-improved apartment and shook his head. They had internet access, three laptops and four cell phones—and no television. Wil had absolutely refused to purchase one, although he had agreed to get a radio instead. The lack of Xander's favorite nonsexual entertainment just made their seedy little home all the stranger. Three layers of curtains hung from ceiling to floor over every window—white facing the street, then two layers of black. It wasn't just for Wil's sake either; no one wanted prying eyes looking into their space.

Sighing softly, the seer retreated into his and Oz's bedroom. It was the smaller of the two in the apartment; he and the werewolf had chosen it so that Wil and Wesley—who wouldn't be sleeping on top of each other—could have a little more space. They'd switched the twin-sized beds from this room with the larger one from the other as well.

Since he was bored to tears and Wil had retreated into his bedroom and closed the door, Xander set about exploring and putting his and Oz's stuff away. They hadn't gotten a chance to do so earlier, since they'd split up to run errands and meet contacts as soon as they'd settled in. He and Wil had been out all night dealing with the electronics stuff; it never ceased to amaze Xander what could be had with a bit of cash—or more than a bit of cash. Getting what they needed with a minimum of documentation had cost a lot—more than they'd wanted to spend. Contrary to what Buffy thought, Angel wasn't a never-ending font of money.

Xander couldn't help but blush when he emptied Oz's toiletry case and placed the ball gag and lube in a bedside drawer. He'd been rather violently opposed to the toy when they'd first gotten it, but in the end had conceded to trying it out. It didn't completely silence him, but if their hotel-mates were to be believed, it did cut down on the noise. Now he and Oz played around with the thing; the werewolf was 'voice training' him so that he could have sex without screaming all the time. It was difficult for the Raphe, however—apparently it was within his nature to sound like that during sex. The challenge was fun, though.

Eventually he ran out of things to do; their belongings were unpacked, he'd scrubbed down every available surface at least twice and he'd checked the computers, phones and radio *again.* With nothing to do and no one to talk to, Xander moved the radio into his bedroom and found a decent station. Then he curled up on the bed, pulled a blanket over his head, and went to sleep.

•••

Wil stared up at the ceiling. It was what he usually did when he was lonely, tired and needed to think. London didn't bring back many fond memories for the vampire; it was the site of some of his most humiliating and gory moments. As a human he'd been a laughingstock and as a vampire he'd brutalized his way through the city. He wasn't sure if Angel's absence helped or hurt that. One the one hand, he missed his lover; Angel steadied him when the pain and tension of being became too much. On the other hand, though, this was where Angelus had turned him, where the fledgling Wil had received his first lessons in cruelty.

The loss of Angel, rather than the ghost of Angelus, won out, however. Wil glanced over at the phone sitting on his bedside table. He could call Angel now; the vampire would be awake, maybe even waiting to hear from them. He longed to hear that voice, with its almost inaudible but still present Irish lilt. He wondered sometimes why Angel repressed it so; perhaps it reminded him of being Angelus. Wil's own accent didn’t bother him, but then again he'd adopted a different accent when he'd become a vampire, and then reverted back to the one he'd grown up using when he'd gotten his soul. Angel, however, hadn't done that.

After a few minutes of weighing the issue, Wil decided against calling Angel. They would have to do so when Wesley and Oz returned anyway. Until they got a good system for e-mail set up, the more expensive telephone calls would have to suffice. Wil hoped it took a long time; he wanted to be able to hear Angel's voice. Then again, he'd always appreciated the written word.

Wil's rationalizations didn't dull the ache, however. He still knew that it would be a long time before he felt Angel beside him again. That pain had been washing over him in thin sheets until it had soaked deep into his bones. Now it sat there, competing with his soul for supremacy. Which could make him hurt the worst? Unlike Angel, Wil didn't care which one came out the victor. His soul wasn't going anywhere and he'd rather bear the ache of being physically separated from Angel for a while than try to survive if Angel was taken away from him forever. Not that he would survive that—if Angel got himself dusted, Wil would walk into the next available sunrise.

All that aside, though, he was taking this trip to London very seriously. The idea of Wolfram & Hart having such a widespread influence bothered him a great deal, at least as much as finding out that he had been unwittingly helping them. Something about the entire situation made Wil think that it was exactly what The Powers That Be had in mind when they'd given him his soul. He wasn't sure exactly what it was yet; it was too early, too soon, to tell.

One thing he did know was that it wasn't going to be averting some sort of major good-evil battle. Despite the unusual occurrences on the Hellmouth, those things weren't very common. Actually, most of the apocalypses on the Hellmouth that Buffy averted never would have succeeded if she'd left them alone—but that really didn't matter. Saving the world was her job, and there wasn't any way for her to tell if one 'let's destroy the world' scheme was more likely than another. No, Old West-type showdowns weren't really Wolfram & Hart's style, despite a few instances in the past. As the group had discussed several times before, it didn't do them any good. To draw from overused clichés and platitudes, you don't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs—and in this case the goose was the world. It's hard to keep raping and torturing something that you've killed.

Perhaps what The Powers wanted was to scale back Wolfram & Hart's activities—put them in their place, so to speak. Let them continue to control parts of the demonic world, particularly the darker ones. If now wasn't the time for major confrontations, that plan of action made sense. It would keep Wolfram & Hart, and whoever was supporting the firm, from gaining too much power but at the same time keep them from realizing the long-term goals of their enemy. It was risky, but if it worked it would give The Powers a distinct advantage in the final game.