He was starting to twitch at the sounds of sirens. He doubted Angel would have called the police on a matter of kidnapping, not when the vampire would want to handle the matter himself, but it had been the kind of night that police would become interested in.

The baby bundled in his arms fussed and squirmed. "Easy, Connor, Uncle Wesley has you, you're all right." And bless the child, the familiar voice calmed him. Connor even smiled, though that might have been gas.

The docklands of Long Beach were busy even in the middle of the night, but a haggard man carrying a baby was worthy of notice anywhere. Which was why Wesley kept to the shadows of a warehouse near Pier 9 as he waited for his contact. Who was late. Which gave Wesley time to think and remember and regret.

They'd never forgive him. They didn't have to forgive him, in time they'd see that he was right. He'd send an explanation, they'd find some way around it, Connor would go home to his father, but with the family around to keep an informed eye on things. And Wesley would find something to do with himself that involved avoiding anyone who knew him for the rest of his life.

Two figures shuffled through the darkness down the pier. Wesley shifted Connor to one side so he could reach under his jacket to the pistol. He tried not to wonder what impulse had told him that such might come in handy.

The taller, more human figure approaching paused in a light nearby. Herman could pass as human in the right light, but close inspection showed the faint gills on his neck and the too-pink color in the skin. "You there, Wes?"

"I'm here." He didn't leave the shadows.

"Get over here," Herman said to his companion. "Don't piss him off." Wesley felt just the slightest bit hysterical at being considered dangerous.

The other being was more obviously non-human, dark blue in color with visible scales and ridges defining the edges of bone. He wore dark clothes, sweater and heavy pants, and gave off the aura of sailor. Wesley studied him a moment longer, then stepped out of concealment.

Herman bobbed nervously. "So, a baby. Congratulations. You said passage for two, but I thought--"

"Never mind what you thought, is it arranged?"

"Narvig here says he can do it. He's off the Mary Rose, says you should know about it."

Wesley looked at the other demon. "The Mary Rose helps transport persecuted demons. Yes, I've heard of it." The storied Doyle died on such a ship, such transports were trusted in the more shadowy communities. "You're going to England?"

"Ayah," Narvig said quietly. "We sail at dawn. Y'mind being in the second hold with the others?"

"Do they emit any substances toxic to humans?"

"M'told they don't smell that pretty, but no other complaints."

Wesley forced a smile. "If they don't mind the smell of a baby needing changed, we won't mind them."

"Good." He looked at Herman.

The demon took a deep breath. "I'm handling the fee, you pay me, I pay them. Do you have it?"

Wesley dug into his pocket. He paused to consider the item in his hand, firmed his shoulders, then held out his car keys to Herman. "It's parked just behind the warehouse. Take it. The address for my apartment is in it, and you'll find a motorcycle parked there. Take that too. That should cover everything."

Herman, who knew what Wesley drove, grinned and accepted the keys. "That should do it, then. Bon voyage, Wesley."

"Thank you, Herman."

Narvig waited till Herman was gone. "Anyone coming after you that we'll need to worry about?"

"Not once we're away from shore. I doubt they've even traced me this far. There are--obstacles behind me."

The demon nodded. "Come aboard, then, I'll show you your berth and tell you the rules."

Wesley settled the straps of his heavy backpack more firmly on his shoulders and made sure Connor was bundled tight. "Lead on."

He was glad it was a long walk. It made the severing of all ties, the burning of all bridges a little easier when done gradually. The point of no return came on gradually and passed without difficulty.

Connor wiggled again. "It's all right, baby. I'll find someplace you can stretch out in a bit. Be a good little boy for me."

The baby burbled at him, and Wesley focused only on the tiny face. He very deliberately didn't think about Lorne staring at him in horror, about the look that would be on Angel's face when he saw the empty crib, of the sense of betrayal in Gunn's eyes, the confusion in Fred's. Cordelia might understand, but she'd never forgive.

And he most definitely did not think about Justine, who had caught up with him at his apartment, bloody, beaten, begging for help. He'd approached her, horrified. Why would Holtz do this to his lieutenant? Did they really think he was that stupid? If he wasn't going to trust his all-but-family, why should he trust his enemies? Why were they forcing his hand like this? He'd stopped, she'd kept coming, he'd told her to stop, she ignored him.

And he discovered why the fates that drove him had told him to bring a gun, as he aimed it at the woman and commanded her to stop. She'd paused, then that look of "He won't do it" had appeared in her eyes. If he was going to betray his friends, destroy a man who might have been a brother, might have been more, what made them think he'd stop at anything else?

He'd almost laughed at the look on her face when he shot her. So surprised, but almost impressed. Her hand came from behind her back and dropped the knife she'd hidden. Slowly she crumpled to the ground.

He did hope he hadn't killed her. He was a very good shot, but he knew he was a little off, what with lack of sleep and all. Someone had found her by now, maybe she'd identified him, maybe someone had seen. Regardless, sirens were not his friend.

Narvig paused at the foot of the steep stairs up to the deck of the freighter. "Go on ahead, Kruter's waiting up top, he'll help you."

He stared up the steps, felt the weight of the sleepy baby in his arms, weighed the cost to his soul against the cost to Angel if the prophecy was fulfilled. "Thank you, Narvig. How long to England?"

"Ten days. We go through the Panama Canal. We stop in Belfast first."

"Good." He took a deep breath, the smoggy smell of Los Angeles almost covered by sea air. He couldn't see the lights of what passed for downtown, only the glow that erased all the stars. Maybe he could look at the stars when they were at sea. Time to go. Another life left behind, on to the next thing. Maybe he'd be happy there.

He headed up the stairs.