Chapter Eleven

Angel watched with a smile as Spike roughly yanked the girl's head back and licked her throat. She was just a little slip of a thing -- couldn't have been more than seventeen -- and she was crying almost silently, sheer terror pouring from her in waves that really whetted his appetite. Her bodice was ripped, leaving one full round breast partially exposed, but she wasn't trying to cover herself up at all.

"C'mon pet," Spike said, grinning at Angel over the top of the lass, although he was talking to her. "You can make more noise than that, I'm certain of it." He looked down at her and licked his tongue around the bottom of his fangs. "Scream 'no' for me, eh? He likes that. You want to make Angelus happy, don't you?"

The girl struggled desperately in his grip, and Angel could see Spike's hands tighten on her body. "Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."

Angel moved closer, pressing her warm, curved body in between his and Spike's, feeling himself getting hard from the fear in her eyes as much as the feel of her against him. "Let you go?" he mocked. "Let's think about that for a minute. What do you think, William? Should we let her go?"

"Well now," Spike said, acting as if he was considering Angel's suggestions seriously. "There are those who'd say that what we are about here tonight is wrong, and that we will surely burn in hell should we hurt a single hair on this poor child's head. Perhaps we *should* let her go, Angelus."

Grabbing the girl's half-naked breast in his hand, Angel rubbed his lower body against hers and grinned when she whimpered. "Oh, all right," he said, with a huge fake sigh, and stepped back as if to free her. "Fine, we'll let her go."

Without in any way releasing her, Spike said, "Well, go on then. You're free. Fly away little sparrow! What are you waiting for?"

The girl struggled pointlessly and wailed. "But sir, you're still holding me! I can't!"

"Oh dear, never mind," Spike chuckled. "Seems she must like our company after all, Angelus. Shall I be mother?"

Instead of answering, Angel moved in again and reached a hand back into her hair, tangling his fingers with Spike's amongst the strands. Tilting the girl's head back to expose her throat, he used his other hand to cover her mouth, muffling her shriek as he sank his teeth through her flesh. He took only one taste, then lifted his face and looked at Spike, licking the blood from his lips before speaking. "Good girl," he said approvingly, in the way a human might praise a fine vintage.

"May I?" Spike asked, staring fixedly at the oozing wound.

"Of course," Angel granted permission. His fingers were still covering the girl's mouth, her cries and whimpers softer now as she reached the point where she realized that struggling was futile. Her eyes were wide with terror and pain, and he watched with approval as they glazed over when Spike bit into her throat and started to drink.

With his own teeth, Angel parted the skin on the other side of her throat and joined Spike, their little late-night snack crushed between them as they drained her.

Finally, she was dropped to the ground between them, emptied and forgotten, as they turned their attention to each other. Bloody mouths sought each other, bodies pressed together, and feet stumbled over the girl's corpse as Angel shoved Spike back into the wall.

"Tastes good," Angel murmured against Spike's throat, feeling Spike's hips hard against his own.

"Could taste better," Spike moaned, his desperately grasping hands making it clear he wanted more, although he'd never dare ask. Angel liked the boy best when he was like this -- pliant and needing him. It was the way things should be.

Angel ran his sharp teeth over Spike's skin, grinning when Spike shuddered. "Beg for it," he demanded.

"Please, sire," Spike pleaded, acknowledging Angel's role in their close-knit little family, and pleasing Angel with the use of the word. "Please. Bite me, take me... whatever you bloody well desire."

"Good," Angel said. "Long as you don't forget that this is about what *I* want, we get along fine, don't we?" He turned Spike around, tearing the slighter vampire's pants in his haste to get them down, tearing his own because he just didn't give a shit. Without pausing for any kind of preparation, Angel pushed his cock into Spike's tight ass.

Spike's wail of pain quickly turned into noises of pleasure as Angel moved inside him, slick now on Spike's blood. The younger vamp braced himself against the wall and pushed back against Angel's strong thrusts, grunting with the effort to hold his arms taut under the onslaught.

Angel could see Spike's fingers digging into the brickwork of the wall. He thrust faster, harder, concerned only with his own release. As he grew closer to his climax, he jerked Spike's head back abruptly and bit into the exposed throat, drinking deeply -- out of desire, not hunger. Thick dead blood filled his mouth, making him impossibly harder. Spike shook beneath him, whimpering and cursing, and saying his name like Angel was some kind of god.

Shoving himself deeper still into the young vampire, Angel reached around and gripped onto Spike's balls, hard, and as the other vampire's body tightened in pain, voice rising to a howl, Angel came. His hips pumped frantically, ripples of pleasure moving over him like a shock wave.

Pulling out, Angel rolled off Spike to lay flat on his back on the covers and recover his scattered wits. After a few moments, he turned his head to look at the younger vampire with fondness, wanting to express something approaching affection. Angel's guts contracted with some strong emotion when he saw that Spike was gone. He must have used the few seconds in which Angel's eyes had been closed to slip away, and for some reason, the older vamp hadn't heard him leave the bedroom.

He thought he should look around for his clothes, but before he could blink he was standing outside the front door, and when he looked down he saw he was already dressed. The hour wasn't late and there were still some people about. Where had Spike gone?

Spike was always doing this, always testing and rebelling. It drove Angel a little crazy because *he* was the man of the family, the sire figure, and Spike should respect that and do what he was told. Angel couldn't understand why Spike would even think about disobeying him. Didn't he make the beatings torturous enough? Well, this time he'd cut some things off that would take weeks to regrow and see how the wilful brat liked it.

Luckily, Spike hadn't been gone long, and somehow, Angel just seemed to know where to go. He walked through the streets, dodging the occasional pedestrian. But the alleyways all looked the same, and things around the edges of his vision seemed blurry and not-quite-real. And even though Angel thought he knew where he was heading, he couldn't seem to get there; nothing was where it should be, and he kept finding himself faced with brick walls where there should be ways through.

And his feeling of unease about where Spike was and what he could be doing was growing. The younger vampire could be in danger; he might need help...

Angel wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with him. Why should he give a fuck if Spike was off somewhere at risk of getting himself dusted? Hell, he'd been half-hoping that Spike might do just that at some point and save Angel the trouble of having to do it himself. He cared that he was being disobeyed, sure. But Spike in danger? Good luck to the guy with the stake.

Despite this attempt at rationalization, Angel was getting more frantic, walking more quickly, approaching each corner eagerly, as if he might find what he had lost around it.

Angry and afraid, he punched the wall of the next dead end he found himself in. All these streets were the fucking same. He started off thinking that yeah, this was the one, this was the right way to go, and then damnit, the brick wall loomed up in his vision, and he was nowhere again.

Things were becoming urgent and he was starting to panic. If he didn't get there soon it might be too late.

And then he would have lost Wes forever.

With a strangled gasp, Angel sat up, his legs tangled in the sheets like he'd been tossing and turning in his sleep. He was the only one in the bed. "Wes? Wesley!"

Angel's powerful sense of smell told him it had been a little while since the fledgling had left the bed, maybe as long as an hour. Cursing, Angel stumbled from the sheets and into his clothes, the urgency of the dream still gripping him. He had a very bad feeling that something was wrong, that Wes was in danger... although from what he wasn't sure.

Still groggy, he made his way downstairs then went into the office. Where would Wes have gone? Not much point in going back to Lilah's apartment -- neither of them believed that Edith would show up there again any time soon.

That was assuming Wes had gone after Edith, which seemed a pretty good guess. Of course, he might have gone to Lilah's for different reasons, but Angel found he didn't really want to think about what they would be. And he hoped Wes wasn't sneaking out to feed, because after everything else, that would just be too much.

Looking at Wesley's desk, he found a small waxed paper wrapper by the keyboard. Investigating it, Angel discovered it had a printed stamp on it and a very distinctive smell.

He knew this place -- he couldn't remember the name, but he knew where it was. He'd followed a lead there a couple of years ago, looking for some spell ingredient that Wes had needed, but it hadn't panned out. Stuffing the scrap of paper into his pocket, Angel strode out of the hotel and onto the street, noting in the back of his brain that sunrise was only a couple of hours away at most.

The dream dogged his heels, urging him to start to run. Flashes of Spike in lust, of Wes in pain, of the other fledglings he had trained over his years as Angelus, all merged together in his mind, confusing his senses and increasing his panic. Wes -- soulless vampire Wes -- was all Angel had left and the fledgling was a promissory note for so much more once his soul was returned. Angel couldn't lose him, not now. Not without losing himself.

Like a flash, he remembered that night he had just started to dream about, when Spike had slipped out while Angelus' back was turned. The girls had been off somewhere, and Dru had made him swear that he'd take good care of her boy, but he'd let Spike get out. Not that Spike couldn't have a fine time without supervision -- it was just that the fledgling didn't have any sense about it...

*Hadn't* had any sense about it. Past tense... because the fledgling in this case was Wes, a totally different kind of vampire. And yet... Angel remembered what he'd found that night -- Spike sitting amongst a crowd of fancily dressed bodies, each of them barely tasted before he'd broken their neck or ripped out their guts. He'd been like a fox gone crazy in a henhouse. Angel wouldn't normally have cared, but in this case the victims had been important people in the local society. Which had meant the four of them had had to move on *again*, and he'd had just about enough of the attention-seeking stupidity...

Was that what Wes was doing? Trying to find ways to get more of Angel's attention? Because fuck it all, Angel couldn't imagine how he could possibly give Wes any *more* attention than he had been.

Angel sped through the deserted streets, his sense of direction unwavering. He skidded around the corner into the back street where the shaman lived only to see, halfway down the road, a figure that looked very much like Wes disappearing into the house that Angel was heading to.

Okay, whatever it was Wes had planned, Angel might not be too late to stop him. Quickly, he moved down the street to the house, where the front door still stood open. A man that Angel vaguely recognized was standing just inside the doorway, his expression stunned.

He looked up at Angel, and his brow slowly creased in a frown. "You're him."

"I'm... who?' Angel shook his head. "Look, it doesn't matter. You have to let me in."

"I already did," the man said, totally inexplicably because Angel could palpably feel the lack of invite.

Angel put his hand out and gripped the doorframe. He could *smell* Wes inside and now that he paid attention to it, he could smell Edith Benton too. "She's here, isn't she. You have to let me in -- he's going to kill her if I don't stop him."

The man reeked of fear. "She has my family," he said desperately.

That made Angel hesitate, but only for a second or two. "I swear to you that nothing will happen to them," he promised rashly. "But he can't kill her. *Please.* Let me in."

The man stared dumbly at Angel for agonizing seconds before finally stuttering, "If she's d...dead, she can't hurt them. She's... inhuman."

"I know," Angel said, trying to speak gently even though he was desperate with tension. "But you don't want a death on your conscience. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about. I'll make sure she doesn't hurt anyone again."

"I... I'm sorry. I can't let you stop him." The man walked toward the door to close it.

Trembling with frustration, Angel watched as the man came closer, and then suddenly had a thought. "Okay. I understand." He took the paper wrapper from his pocket and held it out. "Just... could you give this to him for me? So he'll know I was here."

Confused, the traumatized man reached out dumbly for the wrapper, and the moment his hand crossed the invisible barrier, Angel grabbed it and yanked hard, pulling the man outside with him. It was a technique that had served Angelus well in the past.

"I don't want to hurt you," Angel told the quivering human, one arm around the man's waist and the other at his throat but not squeezing. "Invite me in."

The man slumped in his arms, clearly half-fainting, but he mumbled something so faintly that not even Angel's ears could catch it. Tentatively, Angel reached out with his hand toward the doorway -- the barrier had gone.

Immediately, Angel entered the dwelling, lowering his captive to the floor and leaving him there as the vampire quickly moved through the house searching for Wes. "Wesley! Where are you? Answer me!"

An answer came from upstairs. "It's too late, Angel."

He found the staircase and was at the top in seconds. Before he could follow the sound of Wes' voice any further, the younger vamp stepped out of a room at the end of the hallway, holding Edith Benton in front of him in much the same way that Angel had just been restraining the man downstairs. The woman's gaze met Angel's -- not afraid, but defiant. Angel fixed his own eyes on Wesley. "You don't have to do this."

Wes was fanged and ridged, and his yellow eyes glinted as he said relatively calmly, "I really do. You won't, and it has to be done. I've had training in doing what has to be done, you know." He bent so that his mouth was just beside her throat, but he kept his eyes locked to Angel's.

Anger and terror warred equally within Angel -- the demon within him, that wanted both Wes' obedience and Edith's death, fighting with his conscience, which only wanted to protect Wesley from what would come later if he took a human life now. "Don't," he said, but his voice didn't sound convincing even to himself.

"She killed Cordy," Wes reminded him. "She killed Connor."

"I know," Angel said. He had to force himself to take a step closer to them. He couldn't let himself think about Cordy and Connor, not if he wanted to stop this. "Wes, listen to me. I know this seems like a good idea right now, but... trust me. It's not."

"She killed *me*, Angel." Wes laughed softly, backing up a step and dragging Edith with him. "Perhaps I should thank her for that. Any last words, Edith?"

"You deserved to die for helping *him,*" Edith said to Wesley, turning her head as if she was trying to remove Angel from her sight completely. Her voice was cold. "And he deserves to suffer in every way possible. The deaths of you and his other friends were only the smallest fraction of what he deserves. 'Vampire with a soul' -- he doesn't have a soul. Nothing with a soul could have done the things he has."

"Which should, by your logic, make you soulless." Wesley smiled coldly. "So Angel, there's no guilt for me here. I'm doing this for everyone we've lost. And I'm doing this to prevent her hurting you further. Don't try to stop me."

It was a clear order, and one Wesley had no right to give. Gazes still locked, Wes lowered his teeth to Edith's neck and bit deep.

Unmoving -- caught between guilt and desire -- Angel stood and watched helplessly as Wes drained her dry.

Inside, he was screaming.

***

Oh good God, this felt glorious. The charge from taking a life was enormous. Wesley could feel Edith's blood coursing through him, making him hard and strong. As he dropped Edith's corpse to the floor, he grinned at Angel from under a lowered brow and lasciviously licked his fangs clean. "It was the right thing to do."

Angel continued to stand there and stare at him for a few seconds more. Then what looked like anger twisted his features, and he flew at Wes, grabbing him and pushing him up against the wall. "God, do you have any idea what you just did? Don't you realise that you're going to have to live with this *forever?*"

"It's very far from being the worse thing I have to live with, Angel," Wes replied pedantically, as usual making no attempt to physically protect himself from Angel's anger. There simply was no point in such an endeavour. "I did what was necessary." He felt himself grin again; he couldn't seem to stop the expression, however unwise. "And I enjoyed it."

He felt himself lifted up by the collar, just an inch or so, and then slammed back into the wall again. His ears rang. "Your enjoyment isn't the point," Angel hissed. "If it had to be done -- and I'm not saying it did -- it should have been me that did it."

Through gritted teeth, Wesley told his sire, "You're wrong. You've suffered enough. I wanted... I *needed* to protect you from that."

Angel's eyes were hard with anger. "Protect me? This is still my fault, Wesley."

Wes instantly understood what Angel meant and bristled with his own anger. "Bullshit! I am my own person and make my own decisions, whether your antiquated ideas of fatherhood allow you to accept that or not." It really was quite ridiculous. Connor had been packed off from the hotel and left to find his own way. Wesley, on the other hand, was expected to surrender all rights to actions and opinions of his own.

It was just like it had been with his human father.

Some complicated emotion flickered across Angel's face, and his hand on Wes' upper arm tightened painfully. "I *made* you. That means I'm responsible for your actions."

Wes glared at his sire, filled with cold fury. To make a point about how much control *he* had over himself, he deliberately changed to his human face before saying, "That's a completely illogical attitude. Apart from anything else, I would have made the same decision souled."

Angel released him abruptly, stepping back. "If that's what you think, you're wrong."

Exasperated, Wes looked momentarily to the ceiling. "Oh, and you knew the human me so very well, didn't you? Have you forgotten what I did, Angel? I certainly haven't. Sometimes terrible decisions have to be made, and I'm trained to make them and cope with the consequences. I'm not saying that -- souled -- I wouldn't have felt guilt concerning her death, but I would've done what was necessary. I always damn well have, no matter how personally damaging the cost."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I've been where you're standing, Wesley. I know what it's like to wake up with a soul and suddenly *care* about all the terrible things you've done."

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Wesley knew he was in danger of really losing his temper, but his sire was being infuriating. "I killed a single psychotic human; you killed thousands of innocents. There's *no* comparison!"

"I haven't forgotten any of them," Angel said, his voice tight with controlled fury as he reached out and grabbed onto the front of Wes' shirt, twisting it to make his point. "Not a *single one.* When you get the soul back, you're going to regret this."

"It's not the only thing I'll regret, that's for sure." Wesley grabbed Angel's face between his thumb and fingers, not caring about increasing his sire's rage. "The last thing you'll ever hear me say, after you put that blasted thing back inside of me, will be me telling you that killing that bitch was the right thing to do."

Something inside of Angel seemed to snap at that -- he pushed Wes harder into the wall, using his entire body to do so. "You are *not* going to leave me," he said. "Do you hear me?"

Wesley paused; even through his anger he recognised that Angel was saying something he'd never said before. "I... I don't want to leave you. Keep me soulless, sire, and I promise I'll stay." He hoped the word 'sire' would please Angel by showing him proper vampiric respect.

But somehow this was the wrong thing to say, as it only angered Angel further. Wesley felt Angel's hand tearing open his shirt, fingers reaching in to pinch his nipples with savage intensity. "You're my boy," Angel said, then leaned in and kissed him. "Mine. And if I say you need a soul, then you're damned well gonna get one."

Wes immediately felt his cock react to the attention, and he kissed Angel back hard. He knew he still carried the taint of Edith's blood in his mouth and so he pressed his tongue into his sire's mouth, wanting to share the marvellous flavour.

Angel shuddered in reaction and moved his hand lower to Wes' cock, squeezing like he wanted to hurt Wes rather than arouse him. "You're gonna do what I say," he repeated, his eyes blazing with fury.

Grunting in pain, Wes nodded. "Yes. Yes, I will." He was becoming a little worried about his sire. Granted the combination of violence and sex wasn't exactly a new one from Angel, but there was something... not right about the older vampire tonight. Wes was starting to worry that he might have pushed Angel too far, and for Wesley's own survival, meek obedience seemed the best course of action for now.

He found himself being turned around, his slacks being undone roughly and yanked down to his knees, and then Angel was shoving what felt like two fingers inside of him, dry. The pain was like a vicious burn. "Yeah, you like it, don't you," Angel growled, although his voice sounded strangely flat, as if he wasn't getting anything out of this.

Gritting his teeth against the invasion that somehow seemed utterly unerotic, Wesley asked, "Angel?" and when he got no immediate answer beyond another thrusting of hard fingers, he tentatively tried, "Angelus?"

"Shut up," Angel said immediately, using his other hand in the small of Wes' back to press him against the wall more forcefully. "You want to do it right here over her body, don't you. Turns you on." The probing fingers twisted, and Wesley felt himself tear slightly.

"Dear God, Angel. Put your hand around the front -- do I feel turned on to you?" Wesley had actually forgotten the body was there, and while he really couldn't care less what they did beside the dead bitch, he knew Angel would -- once he recovered from whatever strange fugue state he was currently in, anyway. Wes had to somehow get them out of here.

"I know you want it," Angel said, again in that oddly flat tone.

Denial was probably pointless so Wes tried a different tack. "Look at her, Angel. Look at Edith's corpse. How are you going to feel tomorrow when you wake and realise you raped me by the drained body of my first victim?"

After a few seconds of silence, Angel stepped back away from him, letting go of Wesley entirely. When Wes turned to look at him, the expression on Angel's face was one of confusion, as his sire looked down at the woman's body where it lay crumpled on the floor. "I... don't..."

Feeling undeniable relief, but knowing it wasn't over yet, Wes quickly refastened his trousers and then stepped tentatively closer to his sire. Speaking very gently, almost as if Angel was a scared child, Wes said, "We should go home now. The sun will be up soon, and we should go home before it is."

"What?" There was uncertainty reflected in Angel's eyes, and he moved away from Wesley, his gaze flickering back to Edith's corpse.

"Angel?" Very bravely, Wes placed his hand in his sire's and tugged. "Come on now. Time to go home." Angel shook his head slightly, like he was trying to clear it, but he went along with Wesley co-operatively enough, a fact that disturbed Wes as much as it pleased him.

Joe wasn't downstairs when the two vamps got down there, which Wes could only consider a good thing. He led Angel out into the street and started walking him home. His sire was silent, and the bewilderment in the dark eyes made Wesley anxious. He kept up a slow and occasional monologue as they walked, trying to soothe the older vampire and keep Angel from slipping further away from reality.

"They're all dead, aren't they," Angel asked finally, as they neared the hotel. His voice was still flat, and it sounded more as if he was looking for confirmation than consolation.

Glad that his sire was talking, although not sure what the right thing to say in reply would be, Wes squeezed the large hand in his in what he hoped was a comforting way. "I'm afraid so. There's nothing left to do but move on now."

Angel didn't respond. Something about the way his shoulders were slumped spoke of sheer exhaustion to Wesley. It was as if all his energy, everything that kept Angel going, had suddenly run out. Wes had seen his friend desperate and exhausted on many occasions, but he'd never seen Angel looking quite like this before. The younger vampire swallowed his fear, knowing it was vital he stayed strong for now.

They reached the hotel, and Wes pushed open the door, guiding Angel through. "We'll go straight upstairs, I think," he commented, still feeling that it was important to talk to his sire, no matter how facile the conversation. As they climbed to the third floor, Angel remained silent, leaving Wesley to wonder what was going on inside his head -- if indeed anything was. Every few moments, Angel would glance at Wesley, as if checking to see that he was still there.

"I'm not going anywhere," Wes reassured, opening the door to Angel's suite. He was feeling a tinge of something that he would have described as shame, if he still had a soul to experience it with. "Tonight was a unique situation. You won't wake up and find me gone again. I promise."

Angel nodded, but looked unconvinced.

Standing in the middle of the suite, Wes pondered what would be best to do. He decided that removing the scent of Edith from himself would probably be a good idea, but he didn't want to leave Angel on his own. The solution was obvious. Still clasping his sire's hand, Wesley pulled Angel slowly into the bathroom.

Angel remained passive as Wesley undressed him carefully, and then watched as Wes efficiently stripped off his own clothing and started up the shower. The fact that Angel was aware of Wesley's presence --indeed, was very attentive to it-- was definitely encouraging.

After tugging Angel under the streaming water jet, Wes quickly, but thoroughly, cleansed himself and then set to a more gentle bathing of his sire's body. His touches were designed to soothe and reassure. "I'm here, Angel," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you for good now." He smiled weakly and tried to make the older vampire meet his eyes. "You're stuck with me."

A hand, that Wesley thought might have been trembling a little, reached out and touched his cheek. "I did this," Angel said.

"You made me, yes," Wesley nodded. "And that's a good thing, Angel. I'm here to look after you as a result. You're very important to the world, and I intend to ensure that you stay that way."

Angel shook his head, so minutely that if Wesley hadn't been watching him so intently, he wouldn't have seen it. "I shouldn't have..." Angel trailed off, looking down. "I knew."

Wincing, Wesley pushed back down the anger at yet another rejection and encouraged Angel to leave the shower. He towelled them both down and then led his sire to the bed. "Get in, Angel. I'll warm you up some blood."

Obeying to at least some degree, Angel sat on the edge of the bed. Wesley could feel Angel's eyes on him as he moved into the small kitchen and began to heat some blood in the microwave. Returning with the warm mug, Wes pushed it into his sire's hands, not letting go until he was sure Angel was gripping it.

Angel sat quietly, looking down at the mug, for nearly a minute, and then closed his eyes. "I can't." His voice shook.

"Okay," Wes said agreeably, carefully not letting his deep concern be heard in his voice. He took the mug back from Angel and drank it himself, thinking that it should help wash the taste of Edith from his mouth in case of the unlikely event that Angel would feel like kissing him. The taste of the pig's blood was quite deeply unpleasant after the glory that had been living humanity.

Lifting Angel's legs, Wes tried to settle his sire properly in the bed. As before, Angel co-operated willingly enough, curling up on his side facing Wesley and moving far enough over that there was room for Wes to lie down as well. His eyes remained open, watching.

As it was clearly expected, and anyway, Wes wanted to be as close as possible to Angel currently, he slipped under the covers and lay facing his sire. Tentatively, he reached out and touched Angel's face. "I'm here. I'm with you." Angel put his own arm around Wesley's waist even more tentatively, as if afraid he'd be rebuffed.

Taking that as permission, Wes snuggled closer, pressing his body against his sire's in a non-sexual way, providing contact and therefore, hopefully, comfort. "I'm here," he repeated. "Would you talk to me?" Angel's arm around him tightened, and the larger vampire buried his face in the curve between Wes' neck and shoulder.

After a moment or two, Wesley could feel Angel making an obvious effort to relax, but he didn't speak. Wes stroked his sire's damp hair, kissing it softly, and wondering if encouraging Angel to feed from him could be helpful... probably not, considering the other vampire was apparently feeling so guilty for having made Wesley. Perhaps sleep would be the best thing for both of them.

They'd been lying quietly for some time, and Wesley was nearly convinced that Angel had fallen asleep, when the arm around his waist suddenly tightened again, and he both heard and felt Angel's muffled sob.

Oh lord.

"Angel, I'm sorry," Wes found himself saying, stroking the shuddering back. "I never meant to bring you more pain; I was trying to protect you from it."

Angel groaned deeply, as if in agony, and he tried to push Wesley away, but there was no strength behind it. "I can't," he managed to get out. "Don't... I don't want to." It was abundantly clear that he was trying to fight emotional breakdown.

Angel's pain was surprisingly difficult for Wesley to cope with. "Let it out," he told Angel, taking a risk and cuddling the bigger vampire as close as he could. "Holding onto this will only hurt you further. I'm here, and I'm going nowhere. Take it out on me if you need to, but do let it out. Please. I... I hate seeing you like this."

"You think I don't?" Angel asked, pulling back to look Wesley in the eye. "You think I like looking at you and seeing... *this,* and knowing that I did this to you?"

Wesley felt his face grimace as the hurt and anger welled up again, but it would do no good here; he couldn't allow it to surface. Angel was broken, and Wesley had to somehow try to mend him.

Suddenly realising it as the truth, Wesley said quietly, "Angel, it isn't *me* you hate. Souled and alive, or unsouled and dead, I'm still basically the same person, and you know it. No, you hate what *you* are, and therefore, can't stand seeing it in me." He took a deep and somehow necessary breath, and when he spoke, his voice was unavoidably thickened with emotion. "Angel, I love you. I love being yours, and being what you made me. I love the idea that I can be with you forever now. Please stop hating yourself. You're the most admirable person I've ever bloody well met."

Angel's hands grabbed onto Wesley with bruising force, and Wes could feel him trembling, and then Angel just... collapsed. His hold on Wes loosened, his hands remaining where they were, but no longer grasping. Angel's face was hidden against Wesley's chest as he tried to stifle his sobs. It sounded like he was trying to talk, but Wesley couldn't understand him.

"Angel? If it's important that I hear, you need to lift your face." Wesley's hands continued to gentle his sire.

"I'm..." Angel choked out, then moved slightly, just enough so that his voice wasn't muffled against Wesley's skin. "I'm sorry. God, Wes, I'm so sorry..."

Presuming that Angel was apologising for siring him, Wes kissed the top of his head and said, "You have nothing to apologise for. I'm happy to be able to still be with you."

Angel held Wes tightly. "Don't leave me."

"I won't," Wesley promised blithely, knowing the soul might make that a lie. "I'm yours. I... I always have been, you know."

But Angel didn't seem to hear him, and just repeated, "Don't leave. It's why I... I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to lose you."

Wesley sighed quietly and moved his hand to lift his sire's head so that their eyes could meet. "I'm yours forever now, Angel. *Forever*." It was an irrational thing to claim as either one of them could be staked as soon as tomorrow, but all Wes cared about currently was somehow getting through to his traumatised sire. "You'll never be alone again."

Angel slid a hand into Wesley's hair and moved up to kiss him. There was nothing sexual about it -- it was a kiss of desperation. Wes could almost taste the sorrow in his sire's mouth. After a moment, Angel broke the kiss and went back to holding Wesley tightly, sighing. Wesley could feel the larger vampire relaxing, very slowly, in his arms.

They held each other close until they were both very deeply asleep.