Chapter Nine

Angel put down the phone and rubbed at his face, feeling frustrated.

Wesley was sitting in front of the computer, as he had been for some time that afternoon, trying to find out more about Edith Brenton, Lilah's PA. Angel had been making phone calls to try to resolve their other outstanding problem, that of Wesley's soul. They'd risen late after a busy night spent... well, not on anything productive.

So far, Angel hadn't had any luck locating an Orb of Thesulah, but he was determined that he was going to, somehow. Not finding one just wasn't an option, so he would. That was all there was to it.

"We should have gotten one before," he said to Wes. "You know, just in case."

"You're quite right, of course," Wes agreed, sounding distracted, his eyes still focused on the screen. "In retrospect, I think we were all a little avoidant about the possibility of Angelus' return and anything connected with it. I did consider several times that I should research the possibility of anchoring your soul -- removing the happiness clause, I mean. But I think I suspected my own motives too much to start." He typed a few quick words into his keyboard and then sat back to look at Angel appraisingly.

"Suspected your own motives?" Angel echoed.

Wes chuckled quietly, his expression smug, as if that was the response he'd been expecting. "What, you can't think of a reason why the naive soul I was two years ago would have wanted you to be able to experience love and sex?"

"You weren't naive," Angel corrected him. "Eager to please, maybe." He looked at Wes, aware that his eyes were tracing the fledgling's face with more affection than he should have been allowing himself. He sighed and gestured at the phone and his list of numbers. "Still. If we'd had one, we could have saved ourselves all this trouble."

"We could save ourselves the trouble anyway," Wes commented casually, picking up Lilah's PDA and using the stick thing to poke at the tiny screen.

Angel felt a flare of anger at that suggestion. "We could, but we're not going to," he growled, stalking over to Wes and snatching the palm pilot thing from his hands. "I am *not* going to watch you like... *this* for the next hundred years. You're getting your soul back whether you like it or not."

Wesley's expression was hurt at first, and then just sullen. "May I remind you that the device you are presently crushing could be essential for the investigation we, or at least I, am still working on."

Carefully, Angel loosened his grip and set the PDA down on the desk next to the keyboard. "Yeah," he said, shaken at his loss of control. Jesus, was this what being souled and being around unsouled vamps did to him? -- brought out the demon, made if impossible for him to stay calm and sane, and... what if he couldn't control himself around people anymore?

Wesley was frowning at him. "Haven't I given you everything you've asked of me?"

Angel nodded, but stepped away from Wes, still reeling with the possibility that he was losing his ability to stay in control. "Yeah," he repeated, barely hearing what he was saying.

"Angel?" Wes stood up, looking at him hesitantly. "Angel, what's happening?"

"Nothing," Angel said quickly, backing up further. If this was how he was reacting to being around Wes, maybe he needed more space. He exerted more control and said, more calmly, "Nothing. It's fine."

"*Angel*," Wesley insisted, walking towards him.

"Wes, just *back off,*" he ordered, but without the normal authority his voice would have held.

The younger vamp stopped moving, but didn't do as he was told. "You're worrying me. Tell me what's wrong."

This wasn't Wesley, Angel reminded himself for the umpteenth time. It was just a demon wearing Wes' face, and it didn't really care about him, not really. "I'm not... nothing's wrong."

Wesley rubbed his face wearily. "You really don't trust me at all, do you?" He began to turn away, but then he hesitated. "I don't want to push where I'm clearly so unwelcome, but if what is happening is in anyway related to our case, I really do need to know."

"It's not you," Angel lied, wanting to reassure Wes even though he knew that was a stupid impulse. "And it's not the case. It's just... well. Everything all at once." That part wasn't a lie, even if it wasn't the whole truth. He'd felt... lighter, the past couple of days, despite the terrible things that had happened. Like his burden had been eased somehow. And that realization just made him feel guiltier.

Wesley gave him a very sympathetic look, one that forced Angel to turn away because he wanted so badly for the expression to be sincere, but was almost sure it wasn't. Again, Wes moved hesitantly forward, and this time he touched Angel on his arm, squeezing slightly. "It must be awful," he said gently. "Having to deal with the guilt as well as the loss. Of course you're finding it hard."

Angel swallowed heavily and then cleared his throat. "Yeah. Thanks." He couldn't deny that Wes' sympathy, whether real or feigned, made him feel better. He glanced back at Wes. "Better get back to work, huh?"

Wes carefully observed Angel a little longer and then nodded. He returned to his seat. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed, looking at his computer screen. "This might be what I was looking for."

Right - back to work. Angel moved to stand behind Wes and looked over his shoulder at the computer screen. It was loading a web page filled with what looked mostly like a foreign language to Angel. He gestured at the screen. "Okay. So... what's that?"

Wes was fiddling with Lilah's PDA again, connecting it with a cord to his computer. "That," he replied, "is the hacker written software that will hopefully break through the password protection on Lilah's PDA. Which will, in turn, allow me access to the Wolfram and Hart intranet and their personnel files. I happen to know she keeps -- kept -- a back-up of all her passwords in here. She, er, let that slip one day." Wesley grinned to himself, licking his lower lip in a way Angel didn't like at all.

"You think the personnel files are going to be able to tell us anything useful?" Angel shook his head at the meaningless code on the computer screen. Good thing Wes knew how to make sense of it.

"They would be a very good starting place. Wolfram and Hart's records tend to be very... thorough." Wes highlighted all the text on the screen and pushed some keys. A different kind of box appeared on the screen. He hit some more keys, frowning slightly in the way the he always did when he was really concentrating on something. He was wearing his glasses again, and Angel couldn't decide whether Wes was trying to please him or manipulate him.

He thought about telling Wes to take them off and not put them on again. He thought about going back to the phone and making some more calls. But for some reason Angel did neither. Instead he just stood there, watching Wes work at the computer, hoping that the other vamp was going to come up with something that would help them. "Okay... thinking I need some kind of play-by-play here," Angel said finally.

Wes looked up and seemed surprised to see that Angel was still there. "I've downloaded the small program, and using the instructions from the website, I'm using it to break into Lilah's files through a known vulnerability in the PDA's operating system," he explained. "It might take a little while actually, if there was something else you wanted?" His expression was hopeful, and it was clear to Angel what Wes was hoping for.

"No," Angel said shortly. "I should get back to tracking down an orb. Just let me know if you find anything." For a moment, he thought Wesley was going to complain, but he nodded and looked back at the screen, where words and numbers were slowly scrolling up in a small box.

Going over and picking up the phone, Angel dialed the next number from his list and waited as the other end of the line rang. He'd already called about a dozen numbers earlier with no luck, and he was starting to exhaust their possibilities. Just as he was getting ready to hang up, there was a click as someone picked up.

A man with a heavy Indian accent answered. "Doorway to Akasha. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I hope so," Angel said. "I'm looking for a Thesulan Orb."

"Orb of Thesulah, hmm. We are not getting many requests for those. Perhaps there is one on a back-shelf somewhere. Wait please."

"Thanks." Angel tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear and waited, trying to be patient. He looked over at Wes, who was typing again, the expression of fierce concentration back on his face. Angel was about to ask him if he'd gotten somewhere, when the voice returned to the other end of the line.

"You are lucky, young man. One orb of Thesulah -- a little dusty perhaps, but still intact. When will you be collecting it?"

Angel glanced down at the address of the shop again -- damn. That had to be a solid day's drive from LA. "I don't suppose you could Fed Ex it?" he asked, pretty sure the answer was going to be 'no' and thinking that they probably wouldn't want to chance it anyway. Not like collecting the insurance would do them a lot of good if the thing got lost in the mail.

"If you would be sending a cheque for the payment, we could mail the orb to you once the cheque it had cleared."

No. Angel wanted it faster than that, and he didn't want to have to worry about it not arriving. "No, that's okay. We'll come pick it up." He tried to think about when they'd be able to get there. "Um... day after tomorrow? Three days at the most. Can you hold it that long?"

"Certainly, young sir. What name would that be for?"

"Angel." He'd been asked enough times that he knew to add, "Just... Angel."

"I should be informing you, sir, that we have certain protections in this shop. I am telling you this because of the unique properties of this item you are purchasing."

Angel blinked. "Protections?"

"The Orb of Thesulah is specifically used in rituals of the undead," the man explained.

"Right," Angel said slowly. "I know what it's used for."

"Very good, sir. The Orb is reserved in your name. Would that be all you are wanting?"

It took a fair amount of self-control not to laugh at that -- Angel wanted a lot of things. But he just said, "That's all. Thanks," and hung up the phone.

Wesley was watching him, a troubled expression on his face.

"What?" Angel asked him.

"So you've found one then?"

"Yeah. Gonna have to take a little road trip to go pick it up though." Angel looked at Wes steadily. "Trust me -- this is the right thing to do. It's the *only* thing to do."

Wesley didn't answer. His gaze dropped from Angel's, and he picked up a pencil and began to twist it in his hands. Feeling a twinge of guilt at Wes' obvious unhappiness, even while telling himself that he was an idiot, Angel crossed over to the younger vamp. He crouched down and touched Wes' knee gently. "I'd offer you a choice if I thought you were capable of making the right one."

Wes gave him an incredulous look. "Are you even vaguely aware of the inherent paradox in your own words?"

Angel thought about that for a minute before he realized what Wes was saying. "Okay, fine. But if you think I don't know what you're going through..."

"I think you don't know what I'm going through," Wesley said levelly.

Angel stood up and paced away from Wes, then turned back to face him. "Then *tell* me," he said. "Help me understand, because obviously I'm not getting it."

"I'm not Angelus."

"No, but you're newly vamped. I know what that's like. The urges, the way you don't see any need to try to control them..." Angel stopped as he realized that Wes *was* trying to control his urges, or at least was acting as if he was trying. "Oh."

Wesley nodded, a slight smile on his face. "You are right. They are very hard to control, and if it wasn't for you, I would see no reason to try. But apart from that first regrettable incident, haven't I done everything you've asked of me?"

"Yeah." The problem was... he wasn't sure what the problem was. Angel thought there should be some kind of rule about who *not* to vamp, because obviously friends weren't such a good idea. On the other hand, who else but him was likely to have this kind of problem? Other than Wes, anyway. Once they got the soul back.

And Spike apparently.

Angel shook himself and tried to give Wes a better response. "Yeah. I know you're trying."

Gently, Wes pointed out, "I'm succeeding."

"I know." Angel didn't know what else to say. He'd known from the second he'd made the decision to turn Wesley that this wasn't going to be a pleasant journey. He just hadn't realized it was going to be so *hard.*

"If you *know*, Angel, then forgive me my impatience, but what the hell is the problem?"

"The problem is that you gave me that... *look,*" Angel gestured at Wes, "When you found out we were another step closer to getting you your soul back. And I *cared.* That's the problem."

Wesley looked down at the pencil in his hands. "Because I want to stay with you."

Angel was confused. "You think I won't want that, once you're souled again?" Angel could see the muscles of Wesley's face tense as he tried to hide an emotional reaction of some sort before speaking.

"I have told you. The person I was before you made me will never be able to forgive you what you've done to me. I was a *Watcher*, Angel. We're conditioned more or less from birth to despise what I now am. It wasn't easy for me to break through that training sufficiently to trust *you*, although I managed it because you are so... unique. But I can see no possibility of ever being able to accept myself, once re-souled."

God, what had he done? Doomed Wes to an eternity of self-hatred and misery? Angel looked into Wes' eyes and told him, "You're unique too. And once you get the soul back I'm gonna do anything it takes to make this better for you, I swear."

Now clearly upset, Wes stared at Angel. "Why? Why do I need the damn soul? I obey you. I do everything you ask. I've killed no one. Why won't you let me stay the way I am?" Wesley looked down as the pencil broke in half, staring at the jagged edges as if they were about to stake him.

"Because it's not right. What if something happened to me? I mean, I know there's only a slim chance, but... I can't leave you like this." Angel didn't know how to explain it to make Wes understand. He wasn't sure he could. "And like you said, you aren't Angelus. You haven't done anything that you'll need to feel guilty for. You won't be like me."

Very slowly, Wesley raised his head. "Do you really think I'd want to spend eternity without you?"

Angel sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, feeling totally overwhelmed and like he didn't want to deal with this conversation anymore. "I don't know. I hadn't... thought about that."

"Maybe you should," Wesley said tightly. But then he added, "In the meantime, I have a small breakthrough pertaining to the case of our dead friends." Angel wondered if he was just imagining the pointed emphasis on the last two words.

Grateful for a chance to set aside the other discussion, Angel moved closer and behind Wes so that he could look at the computer screen again, not that it would make much sense to him probably. "What did you find?" he asked, resting his hand on Wes' shoulder.

Wes stroked his cheek briefly against Angel's hand and seemed to relax under the touch. He pointed at the screen. "Edith Brenton was tragically widowed two years ago, having only married two years prior to that. She'd met Robert Brenton in the workplace." Wesley craned his head around to look up at Angel, and added,

"He was one of the lawyers you shut in with Darla and Drusilla."

***

"It should be around here somewhere," Wesley said distractedly, as he looked for a place to park the SUV. This was the first time he'd driven as a vampire, and the bright lights of the city at night, not to mention all the wonderful smells blowing in through the windows, had proven a little intoxicating. He'd had to fight a little to maintain the necessary concentration, and as a result he now had a slight headache.

He saw Angel glance at him. "You okay?"

"Yes, fine." Wesley stopped the car, having found a suitable spot. "Edith Brenton can be found on the third floor of that building." He indicated a 1930's apartment building one block down the road. Before undoing his door, he turned to study Angel. "How are you?" he asked, knowing that Angel was far from fine.

"I'm okay," Angel said shortly. "Come on. Let's get this taken care of."

Angel wasn't okay, but Wesley knew better than to argue, as the anger and promise of non-sexual violence hung over Angel like a tangible cloud. He got out of the car, and when Angel joined him, they walked along the sidewalk to the building in question. "How do you want to handle this?" Wesley asked in a deliberately mild tone.

"We get our hands on her. We find out what she knows -- what she *did.* Get her to admit it." Angel's eyes were dark with suppressed emotion.

Wesley smiled a secret little smile, happy at the thought of what awaited the woman who had effectively murdered his every friend bar Angel. As they walked up to the building's doorway, he was fantasising about suitably torturous revenge. He knew, theoretically at least, how to make torture last for weeks without the victim dying.

"Third floor?" Angel asked, as he opened the door and walked through, keeping it at arm's length so that Wesley could enter as well.

"Unless you're British," he remarked distractedly. "Perhaps we should have brought weapons?" Not that dealing with a single human should require the use of weapons, but Lilah didn't... hadn't employed fools, and so it wasn't impossible that this Brenton woman might have protection of some sort.

"She won't be expecting us," Angel said. They started down the hallway. "Shouldn't be too hard to surprise her."

Wesley opened the fire-doors leading to the stairs, and they started up them. "We shouldn't be over-confident, Angel. She obviously planned her revenge carefully, and if I were her, I'd have taken great care after the act to ensure that *all* the intended victims were dead. She may well know you've survived." He considered that for a few moments and then added, "Of course, your survival was probably intended all along."

Angel paused so briefly on the stairs that Wesley wasn't even certain he'd seen it. "You think she wanted me to have to live with it."

In a sympathetic tone, Wes replied, "As she has had to."

"Yeah." Angel nodded.

Wesley didn't really know what to say. He could see that Angel was in pain, and he understood, intellectually at least, why, but he wasn't sure that any words of his would improve matters. Still, he had to try. He reached out to the other vampire and laid his hand on the broad back. "Her crimes are not yours, Angel. No court of law would dream of convicting you. Our friends' blood is entirely on her hands, not yours."

"Oh, don't worry," Angel said bleakly, as they reached the next landing. "I know exactly whose blood is on *my* hands." He shoved the door open with the heel of one hand, and they stepped into the hallway.

Walking round to the next flight of stairs up, Wesley frowned to himself. Knowing he'd probably end up regretting it, he asked, "Whose?"

Angel snorted and gave him an incredulous look. "You want a list? Got a century or two?" The older vampire winced. "Sorry."

Suddenly furious, Wesley stopped dead on first step. He turned and glared at his sire. "You can't have it both ways, Angel."

"I know," Angel said, holding up a hand in a gesture of surrender. "I know. I'm sorry. Didn't I say that already?"

Wesley wasn't interested in the apology, as he knew Angel hadn't the slightest idea what he was apologising for. And he didn't give a damn if his insolence brought painful repercussions; he was going to have his say. "Either we *are* the same people with or without our souls, or we are not. If we are not, then you do not share in any of Angelus' guilt. If we are, then you don't need that damn crystal ball!"

He barely had time to register the movement, before Angel had him by the throat, pressed up against the wall of the stairwell. "God *damn* it, Wesley, don't *push* me. My guilt is what all of this is *about.* If you can't see that..." Angel shook his head, then released Wes with a grimace.

Wesley rubbed at his neck, feeling hard done by and scowling at Angel. "You really are the most unbelievably arrogant man I have ever--"

"*Shut up*," Angel told him. "Unless you need another lesson in respect in the form of some broken bones. But I thought you said you didn't want to go that route again."

Wesley's lips pursed. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he knew the threat was both genuine and imminent. Turning to carry on up the stairs, he said simply, "Are you intending to treat me like this once the damn soul is returned?" Because if Angel did, Wes knew, it wouldn't be long before the centuries old vampire was dust.

"Of course not." Angel's tone was clipped, but he started to follow Wesley just the same. The answer infuriated Wes still further, and his hands clasped into fists at his side. In silence, the pair made their way up the final set of stairs. "What's the apartment number?" Angel asked as they left the stairwell and entered the main hallway.

"302," Wes replied in a flat, disinterested voice.

"Think she's home?" Angel seemed to be making an effort at least, for all that his question was ludicrous.

"How on earth would I know?"

Wesley received a warning look and a slight growl for his impertinence. Angel stopped in front of the appropriately numbered door and pointed at it. "Want to find out?"

So Angel was now so far above the petty concerns of others that he needed someone else to knock on a door for him. Wesley rolled his eyes and rapped sharply on the door. There was no response, nor when he repeated the knock.

"Probably won't be able to get in," Angel said, but still he took hold of the doorknob and turned it while forcing the door with his shoulder. The door opened when the lock failed, and to their mutual surprise, Angel moved inward along with it, into the apartment.

"She's moved out then," Wes said matter of factly, "Or the address on file was in error. More likely the former, however, as Wolfram and Hart tend not to get such things wrong. Which means she vacated very recently." He walked in and began to systematically search the small apartment. All personal possessions had been removed, but it was still fully furnished. There could be a clue left behind.

When Wesley thought to glance at Angel, the other vampire was standing over near the window, tapping at the glass thoughtfully with one finger. Angel seemed to sense Wes' gaze on him, and said, "Looks like she cleaned everything out. Kinda weird, don't you think?"

"Isn't that what people normally do when they move home? I imagine she knew you would come after her." Wesley's tone was waspish, and he headed into the bedroom as much to get away from Angel as to search in there. But of course, Angel followed him. It was clear that he wasn't to be allowed a moment's peace.

"No, I just meant... you know how you were saying that maybe she *wanted* me to survive? So wouldn't you think she'd stick around long enough to make sure that I had?"

Wesley forced himself to ignore his bad temper long enough to consider Angel's words, which he had to grudgingly admit held merit. "She's probably still in LA somewhere." There was a long silence with no reply. When Wes glanced up from his investigations, Angel was leaning against the door frame, watching him.

Wesley scowled. "If I'd known you enjoyed having a servant so much, I'd have hired some during my time as your employer."

"Watch it, Wes," Angel warned. He moved into the room and opened the closet door with a bang, revealing that the inside was as stripped of personal belongings as the rest of the apartment. "There's nothing here," he said, with more than a hint of anger and frustration in his voice.

"Well, of course there's nothing *obvious*. Look between cracks, on top of high shelves -- places like that." Wesley couldn't understand why he was having to tell a professional detective how to search a scene for evidence. He sank to his knees and peered under the bed.

"No, I mean... there's *nothing* here. Someone's been in and cleaned, smells like. If there was something that would give us a clue to where she's gone... we'd know."

"Oh." Wesley straightened up and sighed. "I see." He should have known that. Wes was so used to using only his intellect in situations like this, that he'd forgotten he now had other resources available to him.

Angel offered, "Maybe the landlord knows something? Or a neighbour?"

"I'll go and ask," Wesley started to walk briskly from the room.

"Okay," Angel said agreeably, following closely on Wesley's heels, which made the Wesley's hackles rise and increased his barely contained resentment still further. It wasn't just the proximity of the lurking threat inherent in his sire. Angel behaving like Wesley's amiable friend was also quite intolerable, as it was a palpable lie.

Angel had made it abundantly clear he didn't accept that Wesley was actually himself. In fact, it was obvious Angel currently saw Wes as just a vaguely disgusting pilot for the body of the man he wanted back. His sire clearly liked whoever it was he thought Wesley now was so little that he was prepared to go to great lengths to get rid of him, in favour of a man who would immediately walk out on Angel. That is, if Wes didn't dust Angel as soon as he was re-souled.

But of course, Angel was still prepared to fuck him, and if that didn't show the complete hypocrisy of the vampire, what did? Not to mention Angel's insistence in dragging around his guilt at Angelus' crimes like a damn ball and chain, which made no sense whatsoever if they were different people unsouled than when they were souled.

Wes pulled the broken apartment door as shut as he could manage, and knocked on the next door along. Angel stood slightly behind him, not saying anything, seemingly content to let Wesley handle the situation. Wes forced himself to relax, in appearance at least.

After a moment, they could hear a sound from within the apartment and then the door opened a few inches, stopped by the chain across the inside. The half-face they could see through the crack looked pleasant if somewhat suspicious. "Yes?"

"Good evening, Madam," Wesley said, with a small but friendly smile. His glasses were on, and he was doing his best to look inoffensive. It would have helped, of course, if Angel had made the slightest attempt not to loom so much. "We are wondering if you know where we might find Edith. Edith Brenton that is, from next door. Last week, she invited us to a casual dinner party to be held tonight, but it seems that she has moved out. I'm sure she tried to contact us, but we've been away, you see."

"Oh," the woman said, with a small nod. The door closed, and then the chain was unlocked and the door swung open again. "Sorry, just... you never know. Yeah, she moved kind of suddenly. She asked me to keep any mail that showed up for her... sometimes we get each other's, you know?"

"Yes, that makes sense," Wesley said, and smiled again, openly meeting the woman's gaze. "I'm Philip, by the way--" He used one of his middle names, just in case, and offered her his hand to shake. "And this is Liam. We met Edith at a Wolfram and Hart luncheon and got on like the proverbial burning house."

She reached out and shook his hand with her own warm one. "I'm Anna. You don't... work for them, do you?"

Trying to ignore his sudden awareness of the hot, pulsing blood just a couple of feet in front of him, Wesley laughed. "Do we look like lawyers?" He allowed himself to look momentarily worried. "We don't, do we?"

Anna smiled faintly. "No, sorry. Just... I hate that place. I don't understand how she could keep working there after Rob died. And then when she said she was moving into her old boss' apartment..." She gave an artistic shudder. "It's just creepy."

Wesley froze. The bitch had dared to move into Lilah's place after murdering her? The audacity of such an action was staggering. His hand clasped the door frame, and he could feel the wood splintering under his fingers. Almost immediately, he felt Angel's hand on his shoulder, although whether he was being offered comfort or a warning, he couldn't be sure.

Anna didn't seem to have noticed that anything was amiss. She glanced back over her shoulder into her apartment. "I have her address and phone number written down somewhere, if you want to give me a minute to look..."

"No need, but thank you very much for your time." Wesley shrugged out from under Angel's hand and strode off down the corridor without another word. He heard Angel saying something else to the woman, and then Angel was behind him as Wes flung the door to the stairwell open with stunning force and started down the stairs, seething with murderous rage.

Still Angel didn't say anything.

"She's dead," Wesley said, stating it as fact, as they walked through the doors into the second flight down.

"Yeah, I know," Angel said awkwardly. "I was the one who had to..." He paused, and when he spoke again his voice had hardened. "You aren't talking about Lilah."

Wes stopped briefly to glare at him. "No," he said with great emphasis, "you brain-atrophied tyrant, I am not." He started down the final set of stairs, taking two at a time.

There was a rush of movement behind Wesley, then a heavy blow struck him across the back of his head, knocking his feet out from under him and sending him tumbling down the stairs to crash into the wall at the bottom of the landing. Before he could move, Angel had grabbed his shirt front and slammed him up against the wall a second time. "You've been asking for this for the past hour, haven't you, boy?"

Wesley's head was reeling -- from livid anger as much as from the shock and pain of the attack. He met Angel's glare full on, but didn't answer. He made no attempt to stop the hate and rage from showing in his expression however. Wesley was so bloody angry that he could taste it like metal on his tongue.

Angel looked just as enraged as Wes felt. "I want," he gritted out, "to be able to work with you here. Not to have to beat some sense into you every twenty-four hours. You think you can control yourself? Because if you can't, I'll do it for you."

Wes remained silent because everything he could have said -- from suggesting that *he* wasn't the one with the self-control problem here, to comments about how Angel was effectively using him as a highly trained slave -- would only have resulted in disabling violence. And he wanted very much to be physically intact for the encounter that lay ahead of them with the murderess.

"This is the part where you say 'Yes, Angel, I can control myself and show you some respect.'" Angel prompted.

Wes felt his upper lip curl into a slight sneer. "I respect your superior muscle power."

He was slammed into the wall again, so hard this time that his ears rung with the blow. "Jesus Christ, I don't know why I bother," Angel said, disgust evident in his voice. " Fucking English boys are all the same. Maybe I should just take you back to the hotel and leave you chained up there until all of this is taken care of."

"No!" Wes couldn't stop the word coming out and then he sagged in Angel's grip. He felt himself surrender inside. Angel had won again. Angel would always win. Despondently, he said what his sire needed to hear. "I'm sorry. I respect you. Please don't keep me from this." And in a rather plaintive tone, he added, "They were my friends too."

Angel tensed at his last words, but then gentled his grasp and released Wesley slowly. "Okay. But if it happens again, I'll leave you out of it. Don't think I won't."

Wes nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He kept his eyes downcast. He *needed* to be involved in any vengeance. His anger with Angel would just have to wait its turn.

"Come on," Angel said, turning away and starting out the door into the hallway, pausing long enough to let Wesley follow. "Let's not waste any more time."

Wes followed Angel back to the car where he hesitated, unsure if he was still trusted to drive. But Angel just went around to the passenger seat and looked at Wes pointedly.

"We're not going to kill her."

Wes froze with his finger on the button of the electronic key-fob. Unable to say any of the things suddenly crowding around his head, he looked entreatingly at his sire. "*Angel*..."

"There are right ways to handle situations, and that's not one of them. Not if we want to make the world better... we can't just..." But Angel looked uncertain, and Wesley thought he could see the truth behind those dark eyes, so he took a chance.

"She killed *all* of us, Angel. Everyone you had. Cordy, Fred, Lorne, Gunn... myself. She killed *Connor*. You would have killed me just for taking him." Again there was that flash of memory -- Connor, his left eyelid closing over the end of a crossbow bolt as he dropped to the floor; the crossbow dropping from Wesley's hand.

"I know," Angel said. "I know. But... she had her reasons."

"And *we* have our reasons -- bloody good reasons -- for killing her in turn!" Wesley cringed, realising far too late that he was being most unwise, both by allowing his anger to show, and by saying such things on the street -- all but shouting them over the top of the car. He looked down. "I'm sorry. I'm *really* sorry. I... I miss them."

Angel nodded. "So do I." His voice was flat, but something about it informed Wesley that his sire was on the edge of losing his control completely.

Without another word, Wes opened the doors and they both got in. Pausing briefly to calculate the best route, and also to further attempt to calm down, Wes then started the engine. They set off for Lilah's place. After about five minutes, during which neither spoke, but Wesley felt Angel's presence like an imminent volcanic eruption beside him, Wes finally cleared his throat and said, "The keys to her apartment are on my ring, but that won't help us without an invitation."

"Yeah."

Wes flicked a glance at Angel and winced at the barely repressed rage he saw. This was going to be... interesting. The two of them were walking a knife's edge of self-control. Things could go very badly wrong here.

Pulling in near Lilah's block, Wes stopped the car. "I'll follow your lead," he promised. He had no idea if he could keep the promise or not, or even if he had any intention of trying, but for the moment giving Angel what he needed seemed more important than worrying about the truth of things.

"Good," was Angel's only response. They walked in silence, It seemed like only moments before they were outside Lilah's door. "Think we should knock?" Angel asked very softly.

Wes was having a few problems being back here, and he caught himself running fingers down the plain door face; he snatched them back quickly to his side. "I find it hard to imagine that she'll let us in. We could set off the fire alarm perhaps, if we want her out of there."

"Not a bad idea," Angel said thoughtfully, looking around as if searching for an alarm to pull. "Is there just the one entrance?"

Wes frowned, sorting through his memories, but the effort was made a waste of time when the door in front of them opened, revealing a woman with short-cropped brown hair and wearing a smart sandy-coloured trouser suit. He vaguely recognised her as the helpful non-entity who sat behind the desk in Lilah's office, but she was paler and thinner than he remembered, and her eyes were sunken in shadow.

Edith, as she presumably was, didn't look surprised to see them; she'd probably looked through the spyhole before opening the door, and she didn't look much more than nervous either. Presumably she knew they couldn't get in then. Her face was expressionless as she looked at Angel and said in dull, formal tones, "Hello. I was expecting you sooner."

"And what did you think I was gonna do when I got here?" Angel asked tightly.

"There isn't really much you *can* do, is there?" Edith said flatly. Wes cursed inside; they should have brought firearms with them. It was really very stupid of them to forget. His shotgun wouldn't have had any trouble circumventing mystic barriers.

Angel took a step forward, and Wesley imagined that he was right up against the barrier. "Maybe not here and now," Angel told her. "But I've got plenty of time." He glanced at Wesley. "We both do."

"I'm sure," the woman said disinterestedly. "I'll bet you have other more specific threats too." She started backing into Lilah's apartment, taking care when stepping down into the sunken area. "Tell me, Angel. Do you still remember the taste of their blood in your mouth?"

A faint growl rumbled in Angel's chest. "I don't owe you any answers," he said. "Before maybe... but not now."

"So you think we are even now?" Edith paused by the coffee table. "That we have stripped each other of all that mattered?"

Wesley might have been watching Edith, but he didn't miss the fact that Angel glanced in his direction again before speaking. "Does it make you feel better?" his sire asked, instead of answering her questions.

"It might. If it were true," Edith answered, her voice still devoid of emotion. She backed to the other side of the coffee table. "But I won't rest, vampire, until your every moment is awash with tears, the way mine are. Are you crying yet? Have you wept for the ones you fed upon? The ones you ripped apart with your bare hands?"

Angel trembled and moved forward another half an inch, practically leaning into the invisible barrier. "If I said yes, would that make everything right? Would it stop your suffering?"

Wesley was feeling strangely detached. He had no idea what was going on inside Angel's mind, only that it involved intense emotion of some kind, and Wes wasn't at all certain how he himself felt either. Other than that he missed Lilah a great deal, and being here, seeing this strange ghost of a woman in his lover's home, was making it all a bit too real. He did wonder why she kept backing away however.

Edith said dully, "Nothing will end the suffering you've brought to me, murderer. Except death, which will come soon enough once I'm done with you. And nothing will end yours either. You will remember their dead faces for all of your eternity, accusing you of your crimes. Why don't you come in? I invite you."

The words had barely left her lips before Angel was moving into the apartment. Wes reached out to stop him, but it was too late. "Angel, it *has* to be a trap," he said urgently, hurrying after him nonetheless.

Edith smiled.

The door slammed shut behind them, and suddenly the room was full of large and aggressive demons. Heavily armed large and aggressive demons rushing towards them from nowhere. As the two vampires instinctively moved back to back, Wes heard the woman coldly order,

"Dust the skinny one and make sure the big one sees it happen. Disable the big one -- hurt him as much as you want, but don't allow him the mercy of death."