When Gunn stepped out onto the street from the bar and found his mother already missing, it sent his heart straight up into his mouth. Okay, so the likelihood of her bumping into a hungry vampire within minutes was pretty low, especially since now she apparently had Wolfram and Hart on her side. They had to have some way of looking after their own; Lindsey's smug look had implied it, anyway. Then again, the thought of some evil lawyer-bodyguard watching over his mom like the guardian angel from Hell wasn't the most comforting thought either.

He ran down the street, turned a corner, and, when he found nothing there, ran back and searched the other way. It was ten minutes before he found Lois, but she was only a few blocks away; not walking like a woman with a purpose, in other words.

"Mom!" he shouted, and she stopped without a word, waiting for him to catch up with her.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed when he had, taking her into a brief but strong hug. "Do you have any idea how much you scared me?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you really?" He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and she scowled at him in return. "Wolfram and Hart? Do you have the first clue how evil they are?"

"Oh, listen to yourself," she said, and started to wander off, hands shoved in her pockets. "Good, evil, heroes, villains, monsters under your bed."

"The monsters are real. You know they are. These people are dealing with some pretty dark stuff..."

"And that dark stuff brought me back," she countered. "I owe them one."

"The hell you do. They didn't bring you back out of the goodness of their hearts; they have some plan in mind."

She gave him a tight, cynical smile. "People usually do. Doesn't mean I can't get some good things out of this."

"You can't play them! Try that and you'll end up dead in an alley – again!"

Some bypassers threw him strange glances, and it occurred to him that this was maybe not the best argument to have in public. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"

Lois pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before suggesting, "I have the keys to Lilah's place."

"Lilah? One of the women in there? No way." Headquarters wasn't much of an option either, which really just left one conclusion. "We'll go to my place."

She paused, and then gave a quick nod of agreement. On the way back to his truck, they walked in silence, since he had no idea how to talk to her without involving words like "demon", "evil", and "resurrected." The thought of Wolfram and Hart sweet-talking his mother into an alliance with them made him nauseated. He knew how good they were at duping people – hell, even Anne had been in their corner once.

Somehow he doubted he could shake a software billionaire from his pocket to make Mom change her mind. He'd have to figure this one out himself. Considering Alonna's attitude towards Mom so far, she was unlikely to be any help. There was Wes, of course... though what had gotten into Wes tonight, he had no idea. He definitely wasn't looking forward to going home to that on top of this crap.

They reached the truck and took their seats. After the thud of the doors closing, there was a moment of silence before Gunn started the engine.

"Did your grandmother teach you to purse your lips like that?" she asked. "You're a bit young for it."

"Don't," he said, his hand clenching hard around the steering wheel. "Don't make jokes. Please. Just don't."

"Who said anything about jokes? It's creepy, how much you look like her when you do that."

"I'm serious. Don't. I can't take it if you do. They blew me up."

Her eyes rested on his face – riding shotgun, she had an excellent view of the damage, and if it wasn't as bad as it had been, it wasn't pretty either. Even with the junk Wes had bought him to accelerate the healing, it'd be a long time before the scars faded entirely, if they ever did. He couldn't stand to see the tears welling up, and so he turned his attention to the road, grateful to have that excuse.

"I have to ask you something," she said softly, but she didn't go on.

"So ask me," he finally prodded, when it seemed she wouldn't say anything.

"Is it true you stole an ancient artifact from them?"

His head whipped around, and he had to make a couple of swift moves to keep the car in control. He should have known those damned lawyers would be able to spin that theft to their advantage.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I did."

"And that the explosion was a way for them to get the artifact back?"

"I... Yes. I guess it was."

"And that once they did have it back, your boyfriend..."

"Wes went to see Lindsey McDonald and shot him three times to get the scrolls back yet again. Yes. He did that. And I'm not defending it, but if he hadn't done it... do you know about Angel?"

"Lilah mentioned him. A vampire?"

Damn. "Yes, okay, a vampire, but he's not like the rest of them. He's got a soul."

"She said he's insane."

"They drove him insane."

"Oh." She chewed on her lip. "So it's not true what she said, that he went insane after his demon lover died?"

"I don't think they were ever lovers," Gunn said. The question made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't let that distract him from the important part. "But sure, he was a bit loco from the start. Nothing near like how he ended up after what they did to him, though. Wes had to get the scrolls back, it was the only way to help him."

"Charlie," she pleaded, shaking her head. "You have to realize how this sounds..."

"I do," he said, angry with the lawyers for filling her head with crap, and with himself because he didn't know how to counter it. They were back at his own street now, and once they got up to the apartment, they'd have Wes to deal with and everything would be harder still. "Believe me, I do. That part's a tangled mess. I'm not denying it. But I'll tell you what's not a tangled mess. The reason I was in there in the first place. Lindsey McDonald, craplord of the universe, hired us to work against Wolfram and Hart, because even he couldn't stand the kind of shit they were doing. They sent a woman out to murder some kids – children, Mom! – and he came begging to us that we put a stop to it. I stole a bunch of documents that day, as well as that fucking scroll, and I'm not the least bit sorry. I even doubt that he is, he's just playing contrite 'cause he values a corner office higher than his backbone."

She stared at him. "That's not true. It can't be."

He pulled the brakes. "Well, it's nice to know you've decided who to trust."

"I'm sorry," she said, getting out of the car. "But, you know, that's a hell of a thing to tell me, and it's not exactly the first hell of a thing I've been told lately. So no, I haven't decided who to trust, and maybe that means I'm not moral enough for you, but this whole experience is kind of confusing, and I need some space to figure things out!"

He closed his eyes for a second, and as he stepped out onto the sidewalk let his hand brush her arm. "I get that. I do. But here's a clue for you: I'm the one who hasn't asked you to lie to your own kids. That ought to tell you something."

She shook her head, blinked away the tears and started walking up the stairs. "What would you have wanted me to do? Come right up to you and go, 'Hi, Charlie, it's Mom. I know I've been dead for the past fifteen years, but these people you hate brought me back, and I want us to be a family again'? I wanted us to have a chance to get to know each other again before we got into the complicated stuff."

"A chance for me to lower my defenses."

"You make it sound so ugly. I don't have any ulterior motive, I just want a good life. For all of us."

A chill ran down his spine, and he paused half a step. "They offered you a deal, didn't they?"

She slowed down, and then sped up again, hurrying past him on clattering heels. When had she started wearing those? Really dumb shoes if you planned on going out after sunset. There was something different about her clothes all over... she was dressing up a bit. Not much, not so you'd notice her in a crowd, but enough that she wouldn't look like a freak hanging with a bunch of suits.

"Mom!" he called up.

She halted her steps and looked down over the railing at him, biting her lip, but she didn't say anything.

He took the next set of stairs two steps at a time and asked her again once they were on the same level, "Did they offer you a deal?"

"I wouldn't call it a deal," she said reluctantly. "We've talked some about what options I've got."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Get screwed now or later."

A door opened above and someone started walking down, but it didn't even register until Lois started at something behind him. Turning around, he found Wes looking down on them.

"Hi," Gunn said, searching for words. Between his mom's wide eyes and Wes's reserved expression – those were always the worst – he could tell that this meeting was going bad already, and it had only been a few seconds.

Lois offered Wes a smile, and Gunn didn't fault her for it, but it was a pretty damned shaky one, full of half-veiled pity, and if Gunn picked up on that Wes sure as hell would.

"Hi," she said, her voice a tad too high-note and cheerful. "You must be Charlie's bo... um..."

"I'm Gunn's boyfriend, yes, "Wes said, sounding – at least to Gunn's ears – more British than ever. "And I take it you're his mother."

"Okay, fine," Gunn interrupted. "Introductions over. Can we go inside?"

Wes shrugged. "Very well."

Lois seemed dubious, but she followed them inside the apartment, and relaxed noticeably once she'd glimpsed it. Gunn didn't know what she'd expected, and he really didn't want to ask. The thoughts his imagination provided for him were more than enough to make him wince.

"So what was all that about?" Wes asked. "It sounded like an argument."

Lois bit her lip in a way that really reminded Gunn of Alonna a few years back. He waved away the question. "Family thing."

Wes turned his head slightly, nodding, which made Gunn notice the dark scrapes at the side of his neck. His first thought was 'vampire bites', though they were very shallow for that, like Wes had fought the vamp off. And what was the chance of him being able to do that? "You hurt or something?"

"What? No, I'm fine." The answer came just a tad too quickly.

"What's up with your neck? Have you been hunting?"

Wes let his fingers brush his neck briefly. "No. It's... well, if you must know, it's Angel."

"Angel?" The thought of Angel attacking Wes, of having enough energy to attack anyone at all, when he hadn't paid attention to anything in weeks, short of food... "Holy shit." It all made sense now. "That's why you were so pissed before. Couldn't you have said something?"

"I did say something."

"Something that wouldn't require me to be a mindreader."

Lois squirmed a little and gestured towards the door. "Maybe I should leave."

"Don't you fucking dare," Gunn said, head snapping around. "I'm not done with you yet."

She gave an explosive huff and rolled her eyes. "What are you going to do, shout at me some more? This isn't leading anywhere, you know that. All I want is for us to be happy, but apparently that's so horrible you won't even consider it."

"I am happy!"

"Oh, are you?"

"Is this still a family thing?" Wes asked dryly. "I mean, would it be presumptuous to ask what's going on?"

"Apparently!" Gunn snapped at him. Then he took a deep breath and held up both his hands. "Okay. I'm gonna make some coffee, and we'll talk."

Coffee gave him something easy to do. Okay, so he'd never make it strong enough for Wes's liking, but he'd stopped caring about that, because he'd rather have coffee that he could drink.

When Lois took one sip of hers and then set the cup aside - "Too weak" - he felt like throwing something into the wall.

He drank his coffee in deep draughts and told Wes, "It seems Wolfram and Hart were behind all this."

Wes nodded. He hadn't touched his cup. "I see."

"That's all you're gonna say? I see?"

"Am I supposed to be surprised? Wolfram and Hart tend to be behind all interference in our lives."

"Were they behind that?" Lois asked in a low voice, managing to nod towards Wes's shoulder without looking straight at it.

"No. That was earlier."

"So that's one thing you've done that they haven't."

Wes seemed taken aback for a second, and then he smiled. "Lindsey. Well. Shall I take it that they haven't just resurrected her, but kept her, too?"

"Kept?" Lois raised her voice and glared at Wes like she wanted him dead. "What am I, a whore?"

"Who bought those clothes?"

"Would you prefer me naked? Oh, right. I forgot. You really wouldn't."

"Okay, stop it!" Gunn shouted. "Wes, could you... step out for a minute. Stay in the bedroom, or whatever."

Wes got a strange glint in his eyes at that, but he said, "By all means," and left without another word.

With him gone, Gunn could return to battling one front, but the longer he and Lois talked, the more circular the damn conversation felt. By the time he admitted the thought out loud, though, he had already poured the by then ice-cold coffee into the sink and rinsed the cups. "We're not getting anywhere, are we?"

She took the towel from its hook and started drying the cups. "It might help if you stopped acting like I'm selling my soul to Satan."

"It might help if you showed any sign of understanding that you might be doing just that."

"Is that what worries you?" She gave him a wry grin. "I promise not to sell my soul. There! Problem solved."

"Don't underestimate them."

"I'll read the fine print. I'll listen carefully to every word. The minute they tell me to sell my soul, I'll be a tower of strength saying 'no, no, no'. Satisfied?"

"No," he said, though his heart beat slower at the sight of her smile. "But it's a start."

"Agreed, then."

He stroked the hair away from her face with both hands and then held it, gently, kissing her on the forehead. "I'm not losing you."

"Oh, Charlie," she said with a sigh, closing her eyes.

It was late enough by the time she left that when Gunn didn't hear any sound from the apartment, he wondered if Wes had fallen asleep, but it turned out he was sitting in bed, with a pillow behind his back, reading one of those leather-bound old books.

"Am I allowed to leave the room now?" he asked, putting the book down.

Gunn sighed and rubbed his brows. "You know, this is hard enough without you being like that."

"Like what?"

"You know exactly like what, okay? Cut it out. It wouldn't kill you to be civil to her."

"She's with Wolfram and Hart."

"I know that. But it's not like she asked to be brought back."

"She lied to you."

"Thanks for the info. I know that. But that's my business, not yours."

Wes turned his head and looked out the window. It was dark outside, so he couldn't have seen much. His lips were pressed tightly together.

"Wes?" Gunn asked after the pause had stretched out way too long.

"The way she looked at me," Wes said at long last, still looking out the window. "Is that my business?"

"She's hardly the first one to look at you funny," Gunn said softly.

"In what way does that make it better?"

"It doesn't – but it doesn't make her a bad person either."

Wes didn't answer, but the muscles in his face and body relaxed a little, giving him a wistful, faraway expression. Gunn watched him in silence, aching to take him right now, kiss that long, lean back as he pushed inside – but the mood wasn't exactly romantic, and he was much too tired to come up with anything to say that might make it so.

"Are you gonna sleep?" he asked. "Cause I'm beat, so if you're not..." He made a scooting motion.

"No, I am." Wes got up and lay the book on the table. "Do you want the bathroom?"

Nobody could polite you all the way to hell like Wes could.

"Yeah," Gunn said, with a jerk of his chin. "Why not?"

Gunn woke up first, which was kind of annoying since it meant Wes was lying in his way. He let his head fall back on the pillow and wished for a bedroom large enough that they could put the bed in the middle of the room and have sides that they slept on – sure, the bed was a bit small for it, but it was better than trying to climb over Wes on his way out.

He tried to go back to sleep, but the sunlight kept him awake, and besides, he was getting hungry. Finally he sighed and pushed himself up so that he could untangle himself from the bedsheets and crawl out at the bottom of the bed. It made Wes stir a bit and mutter noises, but you couldn't call it waking up.

The fridge turned out to actually have some stuff in it for once. Wes must have stocked up, because Gunn sure as hell hadn't. At the sight of Angel's blood bags, Gunn paused, feeling a twinge of conscience all mixed with irritation. He quickly grabbed some sausages and eggs and proceeded to fry them with toast in the pan. Everything not breakfast-related would have to wait.

He wolfed down the food – damn, he was even hungrier than he thought – and since he very much doubted Wes would appreciate cold eggs and toast, he didn't save any, just some sausages.

Having cleaned the plate, he sighed and went off to see Angel.

The room was dusky as always, dark blinds covering the window. Gunn turned the light on and went up to the bed. As usual, Angel showed no sign of recognizing him, though his eyes were slowly moving like he was looking at things.

"Hey, Ange," Gunn said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You know, I'm happy you're feeling better and all, but I want you to know that if you ever, ever do anything like that to Wes again, I'm gonna chain you to the wall. Is that clear?"

Angel frowned slightly. Maybe he had heard, or maybe someone was chatting away in that imaginary world of his.

"I'm not so worried you're gonna kill him," Gunn continued. "He's tougher than he looks, and he'll be prepared for you now. But we don't need the stress, you know?"

He waited a moment – not that he expected an answer or anything.

"Okay then. Glad that's settled."

When he stood up, his foot collided with something that slid across the floor. Picking it up, he recognized it as one of Wes's notebooks. It was open, face down and he turned it over.

Red-headed telekinesis girl stared back at him.

Of course, she wasn't red-headed in the picture; it was a blue-and-white ink drawing. Gunn flipped through the pages of the book, and it looked like the same ink as the notes Wes had made. But when had Wes met that girl? Coming to think of it, when had Wes learned how to draw? Gunn had never seen him do it, and this was a pretty damn good drawing.

He brought the notebook back to the bedroom and shook Wes. "Hey. Wake up."

"Mmph?"

"Wake up. Come on. Did you draw this?"

Wes rubbed his eyes, reached for his glasses and, once they were on, took the notebook from Gunn's hand. He looked at it blankly for a while, then shook his head. "No." Holding up the book, he asked, "Is this mine?"

"Yeah. So who did draw it, if it wasn't you?"

"I haven't the faintest idea." He started leafing through the pages. "It's next to the notes on the Chula, who most definitely do not resemble young women. Otherwise I might have suspected one of my sources to have drawn it as a mean to conveying information, though why would they do that and not tell me about it?"

"I found it in Angel's room. You don't think he could have..." Gunn shook his head before finishing the sentence. Having the presence of mind to attack Wes was a whole different thing from sitting down to paint a pretty picture. "Nah."

"I wish, but it seems highly unlikely." Wes pushed up his glasses and studied the drawing closer. "Was your mother in there?"

"Mom?" The thought hadn't even ocurred to him, but now that it did, he couldn't quite shake it. "Not that I know. She left for the bathroom a couple of times, I guess she could have."

"It's a long shot."

"No," Gunn said, taking the notebook back. "It's not. She knows this girl – I saw them together yesterday. She punched me with her mind."

"You mean telekinetically?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

Wes took a deep breath and rubbed his chin, silenced for a moment. Then he offered: "I think you should find your mother, see what she knows."

"But it doesn't make any sense. Why would she make a drawing like this and then try to hide it?" Gunn caught sight of Wes's expression and huffed. "Don't get started on her lying again."

"I wasn't going to. I think maybe there's something she wants to tell you without Wolfram & Hart finding out about it. It's quite possible that they're bugging her."

"Microphone bugging?" Gunn's hands rolled into fists of their own accord. "Damn. Okay, I'll find her." He leaned in and gave Wes a quick peck on the mouth before heading for the door. "There are sausages in the kitchen if you want some."

"Gunn – you'll have to be cautious about this."

He stopped in the doorway, grinned, happy that for once, Wes and he actually seemed to be on the same side where Lois was concerned. "Yeah, I know."

Perhaps it wasn't an act of caution to go straight to Wolfram & Hart, but Gunn didn't feel up to facing Alonna right now to ask her if she'd seen Mom – too much explaining to do and little chance of escaping it. She read him far too well. Looking through the phone book for "Lilah" wasn't an option either, but the Wolfram & Hart reception desk was another matter.

"Which Lilah would that be?" asked the desk clerk, a tiny bespectacled thing that nevertheless gave off a seriously wrong vibe. Or maybe that was just his nerves being on edge.

He offered her a wide, pleasant smile. "The one who's got my mom."

"Morgan!" she said, her voice a note too high. "I'll call her up for you."

She made the call while he stood there and threw disapproving glances in his direction as she spoke. If she thought that'd be enough to make him sit down and shut up, she was sorely mistaken, and he was kind of amused that she'd even try. At a place like this, with crooks and maybe even demons waltzing in like they owned the world – something he was willing to think might be true – she must be used to people a hell of a lot more disturbing than him. Except possibly in better clothes.

The clerk returned to her typing, her fingers flying over the keys, and soon Gunn leaned closer. He could see it now, the cause of that wrong vibe, it was in those fingers – and he lifted his eyes from her hands, watching the sun-lit wall behind her.

"Would you care to sit down?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine." She had no shadow. Well, you had to hand it to these evil creeps, they had a lot of guts to stick someone like that in the desk. Then again, he supposed she did provide a certain kind of balance. Human enough for the humans, creepy-ass enough for everyone else.

He didn't have to wait long before that smug bitch came down towards him, all smiles and outreached hand. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

"I want to talk to my mom."

Lilah's smile widened. "Of course. Who am I to deny a young man his mother?" Still looking at him, smiling at him, she took a pen from her inner pocket with an elegant gesture, and picked up a pad of post-its from the reception desk. A few quick turns of the pen later – and damn it, the woman was posing like a damned silver screen movie star – she tore off the top note and gave it to him. "Here you go. My adress and phone number. Are you sure you don't want the tour?" She made a gesture to indicate the rest of the building.

"Very sure." He read the note, making sure to memorize the address in case they'd be working some mojo and making the note disappear the moment he stuffed it in his pocket.

"Well. The offer stands."

He showed his teeth and walked away, all sorts of chills going down his spine as he turned his back on her. On the other hand, he sure as hell didn't want to turn his back on that door either – who knew what'd walk through it next?

The address wasn't far, but he still sped the truck up on his way there, wanting to leave the firm behind as quickly as possible.

It was a semi-fancy neighborhood, nothing jaw-dropping, but enough that he got a funny look from a man passing him in the hallway. He found the right floor and had just stepped out of the elevator when a redhead girl came rushing into it.

The redhead girl.

He quickly went back in and let the door fall shut. "Hey."

She gave him a look that was hostile, scared, and more than a little bit dangerous. Then her shoulders fell down. "Oh. Lois is in there." There was a strange tone to her voice that he couldn't decipher.

"Actually, it's you I came to see."

She tensed again. Any moment now, and she'd start throwing – well, him. There wasn't much else to throw. He hurried to add, "Are you going somewhere? I can drive you, if you want."

"Why? Why would you drive me?"

He shrugged and stepped away from the door, holding his palms out, trying in general to seem as non-threatening as possible. Crazy, really, when she was the one who could mess him up but good if she wanted to.

For a moment, he thought she'd bolt. Then she leaned across his body and pushed the elevator button, the fabric of her blouse brushing his arm. "Fine. Drive me to the airport."

Airport meant going away, which combined with the way she was acting meant some sort of trouble, but now was definitely not the best time to ask questions, and so he just nodded. "I'm Gunn, by the way."

"Not Charlie?"

"Just to my mom."

She chewed her lip and then said with a strange sort of hostility, "Bethany."

When they reached the ground floor, both the elevator door and front door flung open before he had a chance to press the button. She strode past him out onto the street, and stopped short when she saw the truck. "What's that?"

"That," he said, imitating her tone, "is your ride to the airport, so whatever you got to say, I don't want to hear it, okay?"

She snorted, but didn't say a word as they sat down and drove away, just had this little superior smile going on. For a while, they drove in silence, and he tried to come up with an angle to ask her about the drawing.

The weapons started rattling in the back, so much that he wondered if the axle was uneven or something. And then the radio turned itself on, to some tango music. He glanced in the mirror and wasnt surprised to see his passenger tense and wide-eyed, all traces of a smile gone.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, a bit too quickly.

"Okay." He thought for a while, and then offered, "So what were you gonna say?"

"Huh?"

"About the truck. You can say it if you want."

The noise from the back faded a little. "What's the deal with the timber?"

"They're stakes. To kill vampires." Seeing her expression, he elaborated: "You find a nest, lure out the vampires, and then slam the truck straight into them. On a lucky night, you can get half a dozen that way."

"God, that is so male," she muttered. "I thought you were gay."

He blinked, and had to swerve not to hit a lamp post. "What?"

"You're not?"

"No, I... am." He didn't feel like going into specifics, and considering the way she'd brushed against him in the elevator, he wasn't sure he should either. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're right, I guess the same basic principle still applies."

"Basic... oh." He made a grimace, fighting the mental image she'd given him. "You got a dirty mind."

"Everyone's got a dirty mind, I'm just more honest about it."

She sounded so hostile that he briefly considered just ignoring the comment, but that didn't feel fair to his truck. "I think I can safely say I've never once thought of this equipment as some sex tool."

"Right. Thrusting 'this equipment' into vampires – six a night! – isn't in any way related to a sexual experience." She spoke the words in a rhythm that in itself was pretty damn dirty. "Maybe you don't get laid enough."

"Maybe you need to butt out."

She pursed her lips and looked out the window. The radio flicked itself off, and all was silent in the back.

When they reached the airport, she grabbed her bag and jumped out of the truck, heading across the parking lot. He remained in his seat, watching her go. If he was going to solve this mystery with the drawing, he should go after her, find out what was going on. But, well, she was leaving town. Whatever was about to happen, at least it wouldn't be on his turf.

Halfway across, she glanced back at him, kept going, and then turned around, walking back to the truck with brisk steps.

"Just so you know," she said, flinging the door open, "I hit Lois with a lamp."

"What?"

"Before I left. I don't think she's hurt – she said she wasn't hurt – but you should probably check on her."

"And you just sat there and let me..."

She slammed the door while he was still speaking and started walking away again. He hurried out of the truck and ran after her. His first instinct was to grab her, but that seemed like a fundamentally crappy idea, and so he stuck to walking beside her. "You couldn't have told me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"Why'd you do it?"

"I... it just happened. I didn't mean to."

An accident with those damned powers of hers. Yeah, he could see that, and though part of him wanted to call up Mom right now and make sure she was okay, for the first time he was also worried about this girl. "Is that why you're running?"

"Who said I'm running?"

He could see it, in her face, her shoulders, the same signs he'd seen so many times before, in the kids that showed up at the headquarters or at Anne's. And before any of that, in himself and Alonna. Difference being, what they ran from stayed where it was.

"Listen, I don't want to sound like a cheap shrink, but if you're running from what you can do, what makes you think you can ever stop running?"

"Maybe I can't."

"Maybe you should. You want to handle this? Really handle it? Then come home with me. Wes, my boyfriend, he's smart with stuff like this. We can figure something out to help."

She stopped and spun around, nearly tripping him. "Why would you?"

"'Cause it's what we do." He fumbled through his pockets, found a bunch of their cards and pulled one out, handing it to her. Pure businessman, except for the part where he was following some strange chick through an airport parking lot.

"Private paranormal investigations," she read out loud. "Are you kidding me?"

"Pays the bills," he said and then amended, "Sometimes, anyway."

She flipped the card between her fingers, her hair falling down in her face so he couldn't see her expression.

"Even if you do come," he said, "you can change your mind afterwards. I'll drive you straight back here, no worries."

"You know, I'm not actually with Wolfram and Hart," she said.

"Good to know."

She looked up, rolling her eyes. "I meant, I don't have any money."

It took him a moment to realize just what that had to do with anything. How often did they have honest-to-God paying clients anyway? "Doesn't matter."

Her face took on an even more guarded expression than before. "Right. You're just a saint looking to improve your karma."

Somehow, he had a feeling the whole notion of keeping the streets safe wouldn't fall on friendly ears. He shrugged. "I can give you a whole bunch of reasons that have nothing to do with karma. It's fun. It's interesting. It'll piss off Wolfram and Hart, which I admit is probably good karma in itself." She smirked a little, and he continued, encouraged, "It's always good to have a telekinetic in your corner..."

He knew even as he said the words that it was a misstep, and she proved it by turning on the heel and starting to walk away. "I'm not gonna be your thug."

"And we found a picture of you," he concluded, raising his voice a little so she'd listen. "In Wes' notebook. No idea who drew it."

She turned her face half in his direction, though she was still backing away. "What kind of picture?"

"An ink drawing. Really good, too. I didn't make it. Wes says he didn't either, and I believe him. Right now, Mom is our main suspect. Do you have any clue why she'd draw your face in a notebook and leave it around?"

"It's a pretty face," she said. Though she sounded flippant, she looked troubled, and she had stopped walking.

"It is a pretty face. Somehow I don't think that's the reason. You curious? I know I am."

She watched him for what was probably a full minute, and then jerked her head. "Yeah, okay then," she said, walking back to the car.

He was grateful that she kept looking straigt ahead, because he couldn't hold back his smile.

"Wes – Bethany," Gunn said, gesturing from one to the other.

"Hello, Bethany, nice to meet you," Wes said. He sounded very polite, but not the fuck-off kind of polite. If anything, it seemed like the preoccupied kind of polite, which was pretty weird. Fortunately, Gunn didn't think Bethany picked up on it.

"Hi," she said. "So you're the smart boyfriend, huh?"

"I..." Wes blinked and looked to Gunn with some evident surprise. "I suppose I am. I started looking up your condition, but I didn't get very far. I'm afraid I got a bit sidetracked. Though I did read that occurrences of telekinesis tend to coincide with extreme emotional stress. Do you know of anything that could have worked as a trigger?"

Gunn had really meant it when he talked up his boyfriend as a smart guy, but it struck him that for all his brains, Wes was also sometimes a complete idiot. This was textbook stuff on how not to start a conversation. "Before we get started on the research – Bethany, would you like some coffee? Tea?"

"No thanks," she said, shoulders up and hands stuck deep down into her pockets.

"Well, you know, come on in. This could take a while."

She stepped past the shoes by the door as if they'd jump up and bite her, and continued into the livingroom, which was cluttered with books and papers as it usually was when Wes was onto something interesting. Going with her, Gunn noticed that the computer browser was open to what he recognized as a missing persons website. It surprised him that Wes had thought of that even before meeting the girl, but even though it was good thinking, letting her see it would be a serious mistake. He turned off the screen, hoping she wouldn't notice.

She sat down on the sofa, arms crossed over her chest. Gunn made sure to leave the doorway free, and to gently nudge Wes aside, too.

"Do you want me to call my mom?" he asked. "I mean, just to make sure she's all right, and I could ask her to pick up..." Talking as if Bethany was staying with them was probably another bad idea. "If you need anything."

"I guess," Bethany said, looking down on her hands.

"I could check if she's the one drawing you, too."

"That reminds me," Wes chimed in. "I don't think she is." He went up to one of the piles and took out a torn piece of brown paper bag that he handed to Gunn. "I found this on Angel's floor."

Gunn smoothed out the paper and studied the ink drawing closely. The style was the same as the one used to draw Bethany's picture, but the motive very different: a man of about their age, dark-haired and slight-boned, kind of handsome if you liked that type. He'd never seen the guy before, but the bag itself seemed familiar. Turning it over, he found the butcher's logo on the back.

"Wait," he said slowly. "Angel?"

"Must have been, yes."

"Holy shit."

"I suppose after a vision hits him, the urge to communicate is strong enough that it breaks through and allows him to find material and create these things."

"Holy shit!" Gunn felt himself grinning like a maniac, and Wes looked so happy that he got a strong urge to kiss him right then and there. Probably would have, too, if they'd been alone. "That's great news. So, who's the guy?"

"I don't know. I've searched for him, but obviously the facial features alone aren't much to go on. I thought I'd have a talk with Kate tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good. Could be urgent, if it's a vision." That brought Gunn's thoughts back to Bethany. He glanced over at her, wondering if she'd changed her mind during their distraction, but instead, she looked a lot calmer than before. He suddenly wondered what she'd been told about them. Considering the crap Wolfram and Hart had filledmom's head with, Bethany's decision to come over proved she had guts – or just didn't care anymore.

"Sorry," he said. "Gonna make that phonecall now. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

The note was still in his pocket, no mojo there, and when Lois picked up she sounded just the same as always.

"Hey, it's me. You okay?"

"Yeah, I am." She sounded genuinely puzzled, which relieved him. Bethany couldn't have hurt her too bad, then.

"I got your friend Bethany here."

"What do you want with her?"

The alarm in her voice surprised him, until he realized that she thought he was talking about a kidnapping or something. Jesus Christ. "We're gonna help out with her powers. Relax."

"Oh."

"I'm not a sinister guy, Mom. I thought you knew that."

"I guess I did. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." It wasn't, but starting that argument again would lead to nothing good. "Anyway, do you think you could bring some of her stuff over? As I understand it, she left in kind of a hurry."

There was a long silence, but he didn't push it.

"I guess I could," she said finally. "What do you want me to tell Lilah?"

It was his turn to go silent as he tried to figure out an answer to that one. Yeah, he could ask her to give Lilah a plausible lie. She might even do it – but he couldn't be sure, and he could be even less sure that Lilah would believe it. A couple of different options raced through his mind before he said, "The truth. Just tell her the truth." He could always ask Wes to put up some protective spells or something.

"All right. I'll be over soon, then. Good luck with her."

He smiled at the genuine-sounding well-wishing. "Thanks. You know, you're welcome to stay here any time you want."

She laughed. "I'll think about it."

"Promise?" He'd aimed for a light tone, but missed by about a mile.

"Yeah. I promise."

They said their goodbyes, and he hung up, looking back into the living room where Wes had returned to his books and Bethany was sitting in the sofa, knees up, still wearing her coat.

He had a feeling this job would prove a handful.