Another few weeks passed before Xander found himself in the corner booth of a small café in California.

He couldn't believe he was actually in *California*. He thought he'd never come back.

True, it was Northern California and nowhere near Sunnydale or Los Angeles for that matter, but anywhere in the state seemed too close for comfort, especially with Xander's knowledge that Spike wouldn't give up as easily as he hoped, regardless of who sent him or why he came.

After encountering the blonde vampire, Xander wanted to get as far away from his past as possible. He couldn't imagine why Spike would care one way or another where he was or whether or not he ever came back.

There must have been a reason.

And he knew it wasn't Deadboy. At least not in the way of Angel sending Spike. The vampire wouldn't do that, souled or not.

Still, it wasn't a reason he concerned himself with.

He never planned on coming this far West, however, fate, if there was such a thing, had other ideas.

He'd tracked a clan of demons from Reno into Sausalito. What a clan of Mehreshe' demons would want in Sausalito was beyond him.

After he'd taken care of business, Xander was tired, smelly and in no mood to get back out on the road. He checked into a nearby motel and after a hot shower, walked over to an all-night café.

Xander had found that although he hated company of any kind, and loathed pointless conversation these days, he couldn't spend too much time alone. It left him far too much time inside his own head.

Some days Xander couldn't look himself in the mirror, so far removed from that boy in Sunnydale was he. He couldn't recognize any aspect of what he'd been.

Back in Sunnydale, he would sometimes look in the mirror, and recognize what he saw. He knew who he was, what he was. He might have hidden the real truth behind a smile and a dumb joke, but at least he knew the truth.

Then, he had a reason to hide himself.

He had Willow, who was always so concerned, making sure he was eating, and that things weren't as bad at home as she feared.

These days, there was no one who would care one way or another. No one to pretend for. And frankly, he just didn't care anymore, about anything.

So long as he kept moving, he was okay. He didn't have to look himself in the mirror and wonder what had happened to that person he had known. He didn't give himself the time to stop and think.

He didn't want to wake up one day and realize that he had become something worse than the things he killed in the night.

Pushing all his thoughts away, Xander leaned back into his booth and closed his eyes. He knew the chances were slim that he could actually get away with not talking to anyone, not in a trendy café in a town like Sausalito, but he didn't want to stay in his motel room, and he was so overtired, he knew he couldn't sleep. yet. So here he was.

He had the vague notion that he might have been followed, but he wasn't sure.

It wasn't unusual, being followed. Mostly he didn't care. More often than not whoever it was would eventually show themselves, and he was way too old to be playing games with would be attackers. But with the memory of Spike's appearance so fresh in his mind, Xander was a little leery.

He only hoped that if he was being followed, it was by someone he actually knew how to handle.

Sometimes he'd be followed by demons who wanted to either hire him, or kill him. Sometimes it was both. Other times, it would be the *others*. The ones who would attack for no apparent reason. When they died, the sky would light up and the memories would come.

Memories that were not his own but that he now carried.

He never understood who these people were, or how he was connected to them.

He knew they were connected, somehow, due to the weirdness that always followed. After the first couple of times, he stopped wondering. It didn't seem to make a difference anyway.

"What'll you have?"

Xander looked up. There was a young man standing over him wearing an apron and holding an order pad.

"A coke." Xander answered, his eyes raking over the café's customers.

"Is that all, sir?"

"Yes." Xander answered. The boy was cute. In another life, any other life, he might have flirted with him. But not now.

The boy walked away, leaving Xander alone only to come back a few seconds later with the ice cold soda.

Xander sat watching the carbonated bubbles moving through his drink until a shadow blocked his light. He looked up, ready to tell whoever it was to go away.

He half expected to see Spike standing there.

It wasn't Spike.

However it was a face he recognized.

It was the girl from that bar in Nevada. He had thought she was trying to pick him up, but he seriously doubted she had followed him over two hundred miles just to get laid. Nobody was that desperate.

"You again?" Xander sighed. "Who are you and what do you want?"

It wasn't uncommon for people looking to hire him to approach him, however those people didn't usually travel out of their own state. Plus, he had a bad feeling.

"Faith." The girl grinned and sat across from Xander.

Xander recognized the name as well as the face. It was the same name as the new Slayer Oz told him about. He nodded slightly, acknowledging her, sensing somehow she would not be nearly as easy to get rid of as Spike, if in fact he had gotten rid of him.

"Buffy's dead." Faith said almost conversationally.

"I know." Xander eyed the Slayer carefully. "You know her?"

"Naw." Faith shook her head, her dark hair moving with the motion. "Blondie and I didn't come south 'till after she died."

Xander raised an eyebrow. He didn't have to wonder who Blondie was. "You and Spike?" He shook his head and chuckled slightly, but even to his own ears it sounded hollow, as if it was a foreign sound. "He send you?"

Faith shrugged. "They're worried about you."

Xander didn't acknowledge that.

"Buffy's gone." She raised an eyebrow. "You can go home now."

"Oh can I?" Xander asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. He leaned forward across the table, his voice pitched low. "I did not leave Sunnydale because of Buffy Summers. Anyone who told you I did has their facts wrong."

Faith smirked, pleased to see that Xander did have more in him than that void of nothingness she sensed earlier. "So, you didn't run away, tail tucked between your legs, like a scared little boy, after you helped send Angel to Hell?"

Xander sighed. "Angel's back. What difference does it make now?" He leaned back in his chair.

"You don't know anything about me or why I left. You don't even know me."

"Maybe not." Faith allowed. "But the girls do. Red knows you."

"No." Xander contradicted. "She knew me. Past tense. Things change."

Faith laughed. "Things don't change. People do." She moved closer to Xander. "You are a person aren't you?"

Xander stood up. "I'm leaving." He tossed some money onto the table and walked away.

Faith followed him, as he somehow knew she would. She had almost caught up with him a few blocks away from the café when she spoke. "That's it? That's all you've got?"

Xander stopped, took a deep breath for strength and turned around.

"Look, I don't know you, or pretend to care who you are, and how you hooked up with the Big Bad, or any of the others. Frankly, I don't care. It makes no difference to me. Nothing does."

He stopped speaking and walked away.again.

Faith watched him leave and sighed to herself. Things were worse than she thought.

*~*~*~*

"Well?" Spike asked as he took a drag of his cigarette. Faith had just gotten back, and she didn't look good.

"He's got serious trouble." Faith said as she flopped on the bed.

Spike snorted. "You think?"

"He didn't listen to you. He doesn't know me. Hell, I'd be surprised if he even knows himself." She shook her head sadly. "He's in some serious hurt."

Spike stared at her for a second. She was always better at judging people than he was. "That bad?"

"Yep." She smirked. "Time to bring in the big guns."

"Red?" Spike quirked his scarred eyebrow.

"No. Angel." She shrugged. "Unless you want to forget it. Leave him to his own destruction."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Spike said joining Faith on the bed.

Faith lay down on the mattress, watching the vampire closely. "A plan, but not necessarily a good one." Spike didn't comment so Faith continued. "But you won't do that."

"Why not?" Spike asked quietly, though he knew the answer to that as well as she did.

"You know why."

"I do." Spike acknowledged before lying down next to Faith. "I'll call 'im tomorrow."

*~*~*~*

Angel stared through his windshield at the motel he was parked in front of.

It didn't look like Xander would be leaving again tonight.

He hoped.

The vampire had been tracking Xander for the past ten days, ever since Spike's phone call, and he was no closer to figuring out what to do. He didn't know if it would be better to go inside and drag Xander out, or to wait until the boy decided to come home on his own.

The problem was every hour he spent following Xander confirmed what Faith had tried to tell him: Xander was in serious trouble.

Angel barely recognized him. Physically he didn't look much different. A little older, a little stronger, a little colder. But basically the same. But in watching Xander, Angel discovered that the differences ran deeper.

He saw him fight; demons, vampires, a couple of men who looked human. He wasn't even going to try and rationalize those fights, or what happened afterwards. The conclusions of those fights, tugging a vague memory from his brain, a memory he couldn't quite grasp, but somehow seemed as though it may be important.

Angel was however concerned that what the Slayer had observed of him wasn't even the beginning of what looked to be a downward spiral.

Angel had memories of Xander, from Sunnydale. Some were vague recollections, others were crystal clear, of varying degrees in intensity.

He knew that regardless of what Willow would want, what Cordelia would tell him was the right thing to do, he was really here for himself.

Something had happened back in Sunnydale, that night. Something that had changed everything.

He had to fix it, if he could.

Angel got out of his car.

Neither he nor Xander were getting any younger.

*~*~*~*

Xander heard the knock on the door but made no move to answer it. Whoever it was would just have to go away. When thirty seconds after the first knock, several more sounded, extremely more insistent Xander realized they weren't going away.

He climbed off his bed and went to open the door.

Xander sighed, only mildly surprised to see Angel standing outside his motel room door. "I told your boy and the Slayer that I didn't need to be found."

"Yes, you did." Angel acknowledged. "Are you going to invite me in?"

Xander shrugged and stepped aside. "Come on in."

Angel entered the small hotel room and looked around. It was obvious Xander tended to live out of a suitcase. There was nothing of Xander in the room. No clothes piled everywhere, no trash lying around, nothing to indicate Xander had done anything other than just arrive.

Angel however knew otherwise.

"What are you doing here?" Xander asked finally, for once not content with the silence.

"Willow's worried about you." Angel answered as he dark eyes locked onto Xander's. "We all are."

Xander didn't comment on that. What could he say? He could doubt Angel's words, but he knew that at the very least Willow and Cordelia were concerned. He also knew that there wasn't anything he could say that would allay their fears. He knew he couldn't go back. He wasn't the same person anymore. He could only vaguely recall who that person had been.

Angel watched Xander closely. Xander's expression never changed but there was something in his eyes; something he couldn't quite decipher, but that gave him hope.

"Don't you think it's time you came home?"

Xander stared steadily at Angel. "I don't have a home." He turned away and sat on the edge of his bed. "What is it with you people? First Spike, then the Slayer, and now you. What do you want?"

"We want to help you." Angel said simply as he sat down next to Xander.

"Help me?" Xander snorted. "What.you think I'm just another soul in need of saving? I don't think so. I'm not even sure I have a soul anymore." Xander whispered the last. "Besides, in case you haven't noticed I've been doing fine on my own."

"Have you?" Angel asked seriously, watching Xander, almost afraid he would bolt.

"I do okay." Xander shrugged.

"Come home." Angel said again, his voice quiet.

"I told you I don't have a home." He turned to look at the vampire. "I lost that when you went to Hell." He didn't say *when I sent you to Hell* but it hung in the air between them.

"You didn't send me to Hell. Buffy did." Angel stated.

Xander scooted back on the bed, leaning against the wall. "Same difference."

"Is it?" Angel asked cautiously, placing a hand on Xander's arm. He could feel the tense muscles moving beneath his fingers, more proof that his visit had effected Xander more than he let on.

Xander sighed. "Maybe if I had stayed in Sunnydale."

"Things would be different?" Angel asked somewhat skeptically. He had no doubt that if Xander had stayed things would be different than they were now, but different wasn't necessarily better.

"Do you regret it?" Angel asked suddenly.

"What.. leaving or helping Buffy send you to Hell?"

"You didn't *help* Buffy send me to Hell."

"No. I just failed to tell her Willow was attempting the restoration again." He looked down at Angel's hand still on his arm, and traced it up Angel's own arm, and then to his face. "It worked, I see. Or was that someone else's doing?"

"No. It was Willow."

"You had it in Hell." Xander whispered. It wasn't a question.

Angel answered anyway. "Yes."

"Why are you really here?" Xander asked abruptly.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Originally? I thought Willow sent you here when Spike and his Slayer failed."

"But now?"

"Now. Willow doesn't know you're here, does she?"

"No."

"She doesn't even know that you've found me."

"No."

"Spike's girl didn't want to raise false hope, is that it? So no one told her. They pretty much didn't know what to do with me, short of knocking me out and dragging me back, so they called you. Am I right?"

"Not exactly." Angel smiled sheepishly. "It was my idea to knock you out and drag you back."

"Hmmm." Xander turned his gaze to Angel's face, his eyes dark and serious. "So why are you really here? Why do you care whether I come back now, or at all?"

"I just do."

"Why?" He asked again.

"You know why." Angel said quietly.

Xander stood up suddenly, moving around the small room as if it had suddenly gotten too small. He couldn't deal with what Angel was implying and he was seriously freaked out. He knew that odds were good that he couldn't hide forever, but he couldn't go back. Not now, not ever. Too much had happened.

He knew he could run, but he would be caught. Maybe not right away, but eventually.

What would it hurt if he just gave up now? Xander was sure that Angel wouldn't tell Willow the truth.after. That would hurt too much.

"No." He stated.

Angel watched him, unsure what exactly he was saying no to.

"You don't get to choose." Xander said quietly as he made his way over to the small dresser, where his duffel bag was sitting. "I'm not going back." He said as he turned his back on Angel, moving his hands inside the bag, searching, and finding, the extra blade to his lucky knife. He turned around and aimed the tip of the blade near his heart. "I'll die first."

"You wouldn't." Angel stood up quickly, not really believing Xander would kill himself, but not entirely certain he wouldn't.

"Watch me." He plunged the weapon into his chest and fell to the ground.

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