Wesley wasn't kidding about the weather over here! Haven't actually seen much of England yet, but I'm sure it's here somewhere under all the fog. There was a whole lot of exclaiming over the effects of severe humidity on certain all-American girls hair when we got off the plane, but I kind of tuned out the scientific explanation since I was busy keeping Wes from tripping over his own feet. Turns out we were headed into the fog just as he was coming out of the fog. The very well-meant drug-induced fog that was completely for his own good...

He'll forgive us. Eventually.

From the sounds of it, some combination of us are headed out on a shopping expedition once we've settled in a bit. (Don't think you're getting out of that one, oh resident Brit. It'll be fun! And it'll get your mind off things.)

//Locked for now//

I don’t know how I’m going to tell him. Hell, maybe I just… shouldn’t…

Dammit. Why didn’t I let Cordy get the phone? She knows how to deal with the tricky stuff like this.

The accent gave it away right off the bat, and I knew they’d be looking for Wes, whoever they were. She sounded just like him, only in the feminine. And then she told me that she was his mother and I about fell off my chair. Or would’ve, if she wasn’t very very politely reminding me that the call was long-distance.

(I don’t want to tell Wesley because he’ll be hurt.)

Turns out Wyndam-Pryce Senior suffered a heart attack the other night and is laid up in the hospital for a bit. And after some of the things I was thinking and saying about him last week, my conscience is about as clear as mud. Even though if I could really cause bad things to happen to people just by hating them, Angel would be dead ten times ov…

That’s… actually not a good argument at all.

(I don’t want to tell Wesley because I don’t want him to go over there and get hurt.)

She didn’t say if he’d been asking for Wes. Didn’t say very much at all, really, despite all the manners. I think I know where Wes gets that particular trick from now, the one where he talks and doesn’t say a damn thing. I think she started to have suspicions at one point and went off on this tangent about who I was, so I told her I was Wesley’s employee. Well. It’s the truth, isn’t it? And I’d rather not be responsible for both his parents having heart failure.

Crap. Maybe I ought to tell Cordy first and get her to help me with this…

//Unlock//

Hey, Wes? If you get a minute, I need to talk to you. It’s important.

Hey, vision-girl! Any idea why Wes is so damn happy for us that he has to physically leave the house? Because I got nothing here.

Screw British-to-American. I need a Wesley-to-American dictionary.

I've never been more pleased to announce that I'm currently unemployed.

Obviously, the chat with Darla went a hell of a lot better than I had imagined. (I figured she'd have been out for blood. But I guess we've all seen just a little too much of that lately.) She's letting me out of my contract with the Partners.

Just. Like. That.

Who knew I'd be this happy to know that when it's my time to go, I'll be able to die a normal death? I'm just Joe Citizen now, not some puppet controlled by a piece of paper.

I'm free.

Well. Okay, so things like this don't come without a price. But it's a price worth paying, and the local precinct isn't far from here anyway. Connor won't be the first murderer I've defended, and not that I'm about to march out and say it to a jury, but his motives were a whole lot stabler than most of those. But aside from that one favor to Darla, I'm free. No more tattoos, no more watching out for elevators that go all the way down to hell if you're not careful. I don't have to run a step further if it doesn't suit me.

Still a lawyer. No longer a Wolfram & Hart lawyer. And that changes everything.

//Locked from my brand new boss//

Angel has a sick sick sense of humor. Talk about karma.

Anyone needs me, I'll be hiding behind Wesley's newly built Fort Books.

//Unlock//

I know. I'm the lowest form of scum for thinking business at a time like this. But I spent a particularly eventful two years having it hammered home exactly why Angel can't be killed. Scrolls of Aberjian, 'No Kill' contracts, Shanshu prophecy... hell, there's probably a Post-it note on the Senior Partners refrigerator that says "FYI: Don't Kill Angel".

And all it took was one pointy piece of wood and a bit of rage.

( As usual, I've got Angel to blame for this little moral crisis. )

Hey, Cordy... I think I've established that Wes is entirely clean and ocean-smell free! You can come back in now!

If someone could be so kind as to reassure me that what I'm hearing from the office rumor mill is just a rumor?

What the hell is going on over there?

//Family only//

I'm thinking that instituting a password before the girls open the door to anyone might be a smart idea right about now. Better paranoid than sorry, right? Suggestions?

//Unlock//

Well, I think the shoes were a hit, if the high pitched noises and impromptu runway modeling were any indication. (Bit of a present for me and Wes too, if you ask me. Our girlfriend is hot.)

//Locked because I... might be hiding like a girly-man.//

Not sure how Wesley's present went over just yet. Because I, Lindsey McDonald, the evil lawyer who has laughed or at least smirked in the face of death, handed it to him and pulled the "I have to... do something" maneuver and am now hiding.

I told him it wasn't as valuable as the edition she gave him. (Working with a limited budget here, after all.) And that it was stupid to only read half of a story. (Didn't get him Purgatorio because it looked boring, but now he owns both the parts that count, right?)

I know it's stupid to be so worried about this, but I've seen how a wrong turn of phrase can end with him locked in his room drinking and listening to Cat Steven's sing 'Father and Son' on loop for a couple hours. He's got a past that probably shouldn't be tampered with, and here I am, charging right on into it.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time...

//Unlock//

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Eigth Level of Hell - the Malebolge!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Extreme
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	High
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Extreme
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Pfft... Wolfram & Hart's got my name in blood. I know where I'm headed.

//Locked//

The stupid Axis got me nothing except a miserable case of guilt for sneaking around behind everybody's backs. Damn near had a stroke when Marilee caught me smuggling it back to the truck, but I'm pretty sure she bought my 'ugly paperweight' story.

Wes is on to me. Or... well, he's got his eyes open, that's for sure. Which means that I'm so fucking screwed it ain't even funny, because the only thing I can think to do now is just go ahead and make the goddamn sacrifice to the Oracles. And to figure out exactly how to do that? I'm gonna need to reference at least a couple of his mumbo-jumbo Watcher edition books.

Yeah. *sigh* That should be about as easy as borrowing the Mona Lisa.

Goddamn it, Lilah. Where the hell are you??

//Unlock//

//Locked//

Might as well use this thing to exorcise some guilt, huh?

I went to Faith today and did a bit of begging. Funny how things change. If someone had've told me that she'd be my boss back when I first knew her, I would've laughed myself sick. But I guess that turned out for the best because there's no way in any hell that Angel would've agreed to help me out with this. Even if he is being unusually nice lately and considering letting me borrow the Viper on occasion...

Bottom line: Wolfram & Hart is in possession of an Axis of Pythia, and I'm allowed to take it for a test drive. Desperate times call from desperate measures, right? And as far as the 'find Lilah before she has the babies' plan is going, I'm pretty damn desperate right now.

Don't even know if the stupid thing is going to work, given that she might not exactly be herself right now.

Wesley and Cordelia don't know I'm doing this. Faith agreed not to let it slip that I'm still looking for Lilah. And therein lies the guilt. I mean, it would probably just cause hurt feelings if they knew about this, so it's cleaner this way, right?

If I go and screw this up with them, just when we've finally got it figured out...

I'll be careful. If they never hear about it, nobody gets hurt. Case closed.

//Unlock//

Angel's no longer the Scourge of third grade, if anyone cares. I'm coming home now. You better not be out of bed, Watcher-boy.

Five years of skillfully avoiding blackmail material and now this? Perfect.

Will someone please inform a certain Seer that it's impossible to overdose a Brit on earl grey lemon?

And I'm not 'smothering the poor guy'. If you want in on the 'yay, he's no longer contagious!' celebrations, all you gotta do is ask. *grin*

So Wesley’s fever got worse. Upwards of 103 type worse. I may have freaked out a little bit.

It was just… he was starting to do that thing. When they start sweating, but their teeth are chattering, you know? And their eyes get glassy. And you can’t do anything to make them stop hurting.

I fucking hate flu season.

Cordelia told me to stop pacing and said that it was ‘just the flu’ so I should chill out. Words were exchanged… I feel pretty damn rotten about getting up in arms like that. I’m just glad I managed to time my nervous breakdown thing so that it wasn’t in front of the girls. It ended with her giving me a big hug, and me feeling like the world’s most pathetic former bad guy and trying to swallow the damn lump in my throat and not burst into tears on her shoulder. Real macho. Definitely not my finest moment. Think I’ll blame it on a serious lack of sleep.

Hope he gets better soon.

Oh, hey, while I've got a minute, I should probably phone Mr. Giles and ask him if there really are such things as Babylonian Demon Bowls, or if that's more of Wesley’s fever-babble. (Maybe he’s asking for soup…?)

ETA: Babylonian Demon Bowls meant for catching big demons, not Brownies... got it. I'll pass that along, just as soon as he stops telling us all what a terrific idea it is. *smile* Thanks, man.

“I’m fine,” he says. “You’re being ridiculous, Lindsey,” he says. “I should discuss mystical excavation procedures with Willow before she leaves,” he says.

If Wesley doesn’t sit his ass down and rest soon, I swear I’m gonna tie him down. Boy’s got a fever setting in, can’t walk across a room without going woozy-looking, and has been living on a diet of Saltines and orange juice (which I’m starting to suspect that he’s been dumping into the potted plant when I’m not looking)… oh, but don’t worry. He’s “fine”.

Stubborn sickly British guy.

Me and Cordelia are trading off Watcher-wrangling and looking after the girls, but damn. Remind me to pay a bit more respect to single parents. But we’re managing, and that’s an accomplishment all on its own. One small step for man, one giant leap for ex-evil lawyer kind…

//Locked//

I think Angel was right. (No, I’m not coming down with the fever.) He was right when he made fun of how quick I fall in love get attached to people.

Just a bit of a revelation brought on by cold compress duty when Watcher-boy finally conked out a little while back. Maybe if I told him now, he’d think it was some wonky fever-hallucination. That might work…

Stupid emotions. Why do they always move faster than my head?

There’s too much at stake to fool around with loaded words like that. I won’t lose this. Not any of it. I’m selfish like that. And if that means keeping my mouth shut until the time is absolutely right, I think I’m cool with that.

Maybe I ought to talk to Cordelia about this. She always seems to know what to do when it comes to me and Wes, even if we are being ‘typical boys’. *smile* Don’t know what we’d do without that girl, and I’m not looking to find out.

//Unlock//

Okay, seriously, Wes… I can see you lurching to the door from here. Yes, I can! Back in bed, or I swear on my truck, I’m getting rope.

Wes? Do we, uh, need to do that talking thing that we do? I'm up for talking.