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The day happened to be overcast, with the predicted weather promising a brief shower within the next hour or two, so Angel decided to chance it and take Wes out to the local diner for breakfast. Wes tucked into the meal like he hadn't seen food for weeks - and with the way his ribs had been showing, Angel thought it was possible he hadn't. He'd probably lost at least ten pounds in the time he'd been gone. Angel decided he was going to feed Wes up, get some meat back on his bones. He was mesmerized watching Wesley's mouth as he chewed. Suddenly Wesley was staring at him, a look of concern on his face. "Either I've become hopelessly boring, or something's wrong. You haven't heard a word I've said in the last five minutes." "Sure I have," Angel protested. "What was I saying, then?" Angel decided to take a chance. "Um... something about demons?" "Good guess." Wesley smiled. "But wrong." "Sorry," Angel said, watching as Wesley's fork picked up another morsel of egg and carried it to his lips. "I just missed you so damned much, Wes. I didn't know how much I was going to, until you left." Wesley's expression softened. "And I thought I knew exactly how much I was going to miss you, but I was wrong. It was much worse." Mindful of the fact that they were in a public place, but unable to stop himself, Angel reached out and brushed his hand over Wes', just a quick touch. "You're back now." "That's true." Wesley's blue eyes looked into his for a long moment. "So now the question remains -- what did you do while I was gone? Other than fail to answer your phone and spend what was no doubt far too much time learning to utilize email?" "I answered the phone!" Angel said defensively. "You know, when I remembered to leave it on." He shrugged and watched as Wes went back to eating. "Not much. I spent some time looking through that file you left me." Wesley froze for just an instant, and then continued. "About... Connor," he said hesitantly. "It's okay to say his name, Wes. He's alive - at least, I hope he is - and that's what matters. I mean, sure I feel cheated out of watching him grow up. But we can't let what happened turn into some... chasm between us. I don't want that." "Nor do I." Wesley was quiet, moving the food around the plate with his fork like he'd suddenly lost his appetite. "And we've been over this before, I suppose... maybe I had a bit too much time to think, while we were apart. You know I'm very sorry about what happened. All of it." Angel snorted. "'Course I do. Not the point. The point is, I don't want you apologizing for it every time his name's mentioned." He looked at Wes thoughtfully. "Connor," he said. Wesley flinched, and then looked up, meeting his eyes. "So now I'm not to apologize, is that it?" "Always knew you were a fast learner." "Quite." Wes pushed his plate away. "I'm done." He glanced up at Angel as if to forestall any argument. "Because I'm *full,*" he said. "Okay." Mollified, Angel threw some money down onto the table and followed Wes out into the rain that had just started to fall. The damned roof of the car was leaking again, but luckily only into the back seat where they didn't need to be. He tried not to think about the things he might like to do to Wes in that back seat, if the time was right and the seat wasn't covered with water. Heck, even if the seat *was* covered with water... he wrenched his brain back to the present. "You sure you want to go to the office?" he asked. "Maybe you ought to spend a couple of days at home. You know, rest up." "I'd prefer to keep busy," Wesley said. "Otherwise I'm afraid I'll just be sitting around, wondering when the next vision is going to hit and whether the spell will have made any difference." "Okay, I get that. Just... take it easy, okay? Kind of ease into it. You've been through a lot, and none of us want to be scraping you up off the floor if you overdo it." Wesley smirked at him. Man, he'd even missed the smirks. How smitten was he? "No, I'm not particularly keen on that idea myself. But thank you for considering my welfare." "Oh, I'm all about considering your... welfare," Angel drawled, and grinned but didn't look away from the road when he heard Wesley's heartbeat speed up. The reunion at the office was heartwarming, even for someone with a cold dead heart. Gunn and Fred were delighted to see Wesley, and there was a great deal of hugging and back-patting and even a kiss on the cheek that had Wesley blushing. Angel could tell that Wes was a little bit uncomfortable to be back, despite how pleased he was at the welcome. After a good hour of chatting and coffee and Fred going out for *more* coffee because she decided Wesley deserved some from the actual coffee shop instead of their less-than-perfect, ran-out-of-new-filters coffee, things settled down. Gunn and Fred went out to drop off a bill, and Wesley sat behind his desk and read over the files that had piled up while he'd been gone. Angel looked for stuff to do, and eventually ended up leaning against a wall in an attempt at casualness, pretending to read a book while actually watching Wesley over the top edge. "You're very bad at that, you know," Wesley said suddenly. Angel twitched. "Um... what?" "Pretending to read. You could at least make an effort to turn a page every once in a while. You've been staring at that one for more than fifteen minutes. I find it difficult to believe that anyone reads that slowly, even you." Wes looked at him with a small grin. "Hey, maybe I was... trying to... translate..." He sighed. "Okay, you got me." He walked over and stood behind Wes's chair, dropping the book on the desk on his way, and leaned over to see what Wesley had been reading. It was really just an excuse to be able to smell him, to be close to him, but he hoped it might seem genuine. "Whatcha reading?" "You mean what am I *actually* reading, as opposed to pretending to read?" Wes glanced up at him and then gestured at the paper in his hand. "Just paperwork. If you're feeling particularly mentally taxed I could read it aloud to you...?" This playfulness was what had been missing even before Wesley had left, and Angel was pretty sure their forced separation was worth it if it meant the light-heartedness was back now. "Nah," he said. "I can always get Fred to read it to me later if I need to. She's cooperative that way." He leaned in closer like he was trying to puzzle the words out. "Was there something you wanted?" Wesley asked after a minute, turning sideways in his chair so that he could look at Angel. *You.* Angel shook his head, and then decided to throw caution to the wind and leaned in closer still, inhaling the scent of Wes's hair and then nuzzling it. "You," he said. "I want you. Now, tomorrow... pretty much all the time." He felt a shiver go through Wes and grinned. "We're in the office," Wesley pointed out. "There, see? I knew you were a smart guy." "Gunn and Fred could come back at any time." The protest sounded weaker now. "Seems to me like we've had this conversation before. Hotel? Lots of perfectly good rooms upstairs, not to mention my own. Locking doors and everything." "We should be working." Angel grunted in frustration. "Actually, *you* should be resting, which is also a conversation we've had before." "And you believe that doing what you're suggesting will be restful?" A little smile was playing around the corners of Wesley's lips now. "Well, *afterwards* you might be interested in resting." For the first time since they'd come into the office, Angel let himself touch Wes -- just a hand on his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing the tense muscle there. He turned Wes around far enough to allow himself access to his mouth, and kissed him. The taste was like nothing else he'd ever known - rich like fine wine, dark like freshly tilled earth. Full -- layers upon layers of flavor that his vampire senses could dissect for hours without identifying each individual one. He wanted to spend hours kissing Wesley. He wanted to spend years doing it. By the time he pulled back, Wes was panting lightly, his eyes dilated just the tiniest bit. Wesley paused, and then nodded. "All right. Upstairs." Angel followed Wes up, noting the careful way that Wes moved and reminding himself to be gentle, no matter how much he wanted him. He let his eyes linger on Wesley's ass as he walked up the staircase. He locked the door carefully behind them, making sure Wes saw him do it, and then moved them into the bedroom. Wesley sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him uncertainly, his discomfort plain on his face. "I don't -- " "Shh," said Angel, and sat down next to him and kissed him. He decided he liked the way Wes tasted like this, too -- uncertain, uncomfortable, waiting to see what happened next. Angel wanted to show him. "Let me." Wesley nodded, and after another few seconds one of his hands stole up to rest on Angel's chest, right over his heart. They kissed slowly, for a long time, Wes' tongue slipping into his mouth tentatively at first, and then with more surety. "That's right," Angel said encouragingly, pulling back far enough to stroke a hand across Wesley's cheek. "We can do anything you want." "Anything?" Wesley asked, and there was a gleam in his eye that Angel thought he liked the look of. "Anything." Wesley stood up, hauling Angel to his feet as well, and then Angel felt Wes' hands at his waistband, undoing his pants and shoving them down toward the floor. Wesley glanced at him, as if looking for permission, and then sank to his knees, one hand running down the outside of Angel's thigh. Angel stood rock-still as Wesley's hands explored him, moving over his thighs, up to caress his ass with a firm squeeze, and then around and up the insides of his thighs, very slowly. He didn't tremble as Wes' knuckles brushed against his balls. He didn't groan softly as Wes' fingertips ghosted over the head of his cock and then one fingertip pressed, more firmly, into the leaking hole at the tip. And he most definitely *didn't* cry out as Wesley took him into his hot, wet, human mouth, where Angel thought he could almost feel the blood pulsing beneath the skin. Wesley's lips slid down his length until the head of his cock was practically lodged in Wes' throat, and then he did tremble, just a little bit. It had been so long... He exerted iron control and stayed still, letting Wes do whatever he wanted and trying not to do anything that would pressure him. Wes' tongue was like magic, dancing around, and the heat and wet were just about making Angel's eyes roll back into his head. He felt a surge and quickly took a step backward, away from Wesley. Wesley looked up, confusion written all over him. "Don't you want...?" "Oh, I *want,*" Angel answered, pulling Wes to his feet and kissing him. "There are a lot of things I want." He let his hand run down Wesley's front and gave his cock a squeeze through his slacks, and grinned as Wesley groaned in response. "Looks like I'm not the only one who wants." "One would think that would have been perfectly clear after this morning," Wesley said, pressing forward into his hand. Damned if the way Wes talked, even when he was all worked up, didn't make Angel even harder. "Turn around," he ordered in a low voice, and grinned again when Wesley obeyed him without question. His fingers unfastened Wes' slacks and then slid inside to grasp his hot cock. Nuzzling Wesley's neck, Angel shoved the pants down and began a casual, relaxed stroking; with his eyes closed, he could almost imagine that it was his own dick in his hand. Wes groaned softly and pushed back against him. "Angel..." "You need this, Wes?" Wesley trembled. "I..." Angel's hand stopped its movement. "Answer me. You need this? You want me to make you come?" "*God,* yes." "You want me to fuck you?" "*Please.*" That was more than enough for Angel. He would have liked to bend Wes over the bed and take him that way, but he was mindful of everything Wes had been through in the past weeks and decided that something less physically stressful was called for. Stripping both of them of their clothes as efficiently as possible -- which in his case included popping two button off his shirt -- he pushed Wesley down onto the bed and stretched out next to him. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked again, one hand reaching out to circle Wes' cock teasingly. "Do you want an engraved invitation?" Angel chuckled. "Nah, not necessary. Just like to hear you say it." Propping himself up on one elbow, Wesley grinned. "You want to hear me beg, is that it?" "Can't say that'd be a big turn-off." He jacked Wes' cock lazily, gently, and noted the sudden intake of breath that was Wesley's response. "I want you," Wes said, closing his eyes for a brief instant as Angel's thumb flicked over the head of his cock, "to fuck me." "Well now, why didn't you say so?" Angel lunged up over him, pushing him down into the mattress and covering him with his body. The feel of Wes' hand suddenly brushing over his dick just made him all the crazier. "Want you. Didn't realize how much until you left." "Really," Wesley said dryly, while Angel slicked himself with some lube he'd been keeping under his pillow waiting for just this kind of opportunity. "So I shouldn't ask what," he gasped as Angel slid home slowly, and then continued, "all that sex was about *before* I left, then?" Angel pulled most of the way back out and thrust forward again powerfully. "This isn't just about sex," he grunted, and swiped his tongue roughly over the scar on Wesley's throat. He would have had to have been unconscious to miss the reaction that earned him -- Wes shuddered beneath him and stiffened up. The air in the room spiked with the unmistakable scent of fear and Angel froze instantly. "Wes?" He could feel Wesley make an effort to relax. "I'm all right." "Are you?" Maybe this was too much, too soon -- he started to withdraw but Wes grabbed onto him and held him where he was. "I'm all right," Wes repeated. "You... surprised me. When you said it wasn't just about sex, and..." Angel was utterly confused. "What?" "I thought you were going to... which would be all right, were it necessary. Or were I prepared. You caught me off guard." "You thought I was going to..." Light dawned slowly. "Wesley. I wouldn't do that without your permission. Heck, I might not even do it *then.*" "All right," Wes said, quietly, calmly. They were both still for a long minute, and then Wesley tilted his hips up against Angel, an invitation, and Angel began to move again. Slowly, easily, not wanting to overwhelm this new Wes who had come back to him seemingly more nervous and more confident at the same time, and if that made any sense Angel didn't want to think about it because Wesley felt so amazing that he was already lost. In that moment, all he could think about was Wes; Wes tight and hot around his cock, Wes' strong hands gripping his shoulders. Wesley's gasps and his quickening heartbeat were like music to Angel's ears. He shifted his weight to one elbow and kissed Wes fiercely. Wes tasted like coffee and, faintly, like something sweet he'd eaten maybe as long ago as the night before. "Missed ya," Angel said again, and thrust in deeper. Wes gasped, and raised his hips to meet the next thrust. "Angel... please..." "Please what?" He nipped gently at Wes' lips and tongue-fucked his mouth in time with his thrusts. "Please..." Wesley was practically incoherent -- eyes closed, head rolled to one side. Not quite ready for things to be over so soon, Angel straightened his arm to create more distance between their bodies and take away the friction that Wes' cock was receiving. Wesley groaned a wordless objection and pushed himself upward, seeking the contact, but Angel just put a hand on his hip and flattened him back to the mattress. "Ah ah ah," he said. "You do it." Wesley opened his eyes and looked at Angel. "What?" "You do it. Touch yourself. I wanna watch." Angel could sense the faint blush in Wes' cheeks as he realized what he was being told to do. "Do it," Angel repeated. "If you want me to keep fucking you. Do it." Wesley reached down and took his own cock in hand. He stroked once and his eyelids fluttered closed just the tiniest bit. A small sound escaped his lips. In reward for his good behavior, Angel pulled out and thrust forward again, angling to hit just the right spot. Wes rewarded him in turn with a loud groan. "Angel! God... don't stop." "Not gonna stop," Angel answered, thrusting again. "Not any time soon." He moved back and then forward, plunging into Wes with a force that made him just a little bit weak in the knees. Good thing fucking didn't require standing up. Wesley was lifting his hips to meet Angel's thrusts, moaning and holding his cock in his hand but obviously past the point of being able to do anything else. His head was thrown back, exposing his throat, and Angel had to exert some control to keep himself from licking and sucking and biting at the skin there again. "Wes. Wesley," he said, just to say it, just to taste the name on his tongue and feel the soft hush of it through his vocal cords. Wes moved to meet him again, and answered him in kind. "Angel." His voice had that raspy quality to it again, the one that never quite went away entirely -- although Angel suspected he might be the only one who was aware of it most of the time -- and seemed to get worse under certain conditions. He pushed himself deeper and brought his hand down to join Wes', their fingers entwining around Wesley's cock to bring him off together. Stroking faster, movements echoing those of his hips while his tongue owned Wesley's mouth. "Angel... I - " And then Wes' entire body locked up beneath his as Wes came, shooting onto his own stomach with a strangled cry, liquid heat spilling over Angel's fingers. Angel growled in delight and thrust forward harder, faster, taking his own pleasure now that Wesley's was spent. It wasn't a lot longer before he came too, supporting his weight on his arms so that Wes wouldn't have to bear it. He shuddered and groaned a low sound that felt like it came from somewhere deep as the pleasure pulsed through him, closer to a heartbeat than anything else he could experience. In the end, he sank down onto Wesley, breathing in his scent while they both trembled with after-shocks. Angel went to move, and Wes' arms tightened around him. "Don't," Wesley said quietly, his voice rough. Angel rolled the both of them to one side instead, nuzzling Wes' hair and holding him carefully. He wanted to protect Wes, to keep him safe from... whatever. Still inside him, he thrust again, gently, just because he could, and smiled when Wes' response was to shift to meet him. Wesley ran a warm hand down across Angel's chest and circled his nipple with one fingertip. Angel grabbed the hand and bit the fingertip with a playful growl. "I'm thinking unless you want to start another round you might be better off not doing stuff like that." "Why wouldn't I want to start another round?" Angel felt his brow crease with confusion. "Um... because you're jet-lagged and coming down off some big spellcasting? And because we don't know when you're gonna get another vision?" Wes nodded and rested his head on Angel's arm. The weight felt comforting. "Valid points, all." "Maybe you should try to get some sleep," Angel suggested, as he reluctantly withdrew from Wes' body. What he hadn't totally counted on was the way Wesley moved back into his embrace. The way Wes sighed and relaxed, and acted like he was perfectly happy where he was. Content. "I'm not tired," Wesley said, and then almost immediately corrected himself. "I'm not *sleepy.* Tell me what you've been up to?" Angel closed his eyes for a few seconds, just breathing in Wes' scent along with the tang that lingered in the air from their combined sexual release. "You know, the usual. Dealing with cases, your visions..." "You mentioned that file I'd left. I wondered if... anything had come of it?" He sighed. "Nah. Not yet." "I'm sorry. I'd hoped..." Wesley trailed off. "Haven't given up. Won't. Some things take time - looks like this is gonna be one of them." "I suppose a little bit more time now is hardly something to be concerned about," Wesley agreed, with a hint of bitterness in his voice that Angel didn't like the sound of. He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at Wes. "Hey. Let it go, would ya?" "It's hardly as simple as that, Angel." "Sure it is. Just stop thinking about it." "And you've found that works for you, have you?" Wesley raised his eyebrows. Angel grinned slightly. "We're not talking about me. Although speaking of me..." He rolled away and got up, moving into the kitchen area of the suite and taking a bag of blood from the refrigerator. He nicked it open, poured the blood into a mug and put it in the microwave to heat. He looked back; Wesley had settled onto his stomach and was watching him. "You've been taking care of yourself, I hope?" Wes asked. "Again, shouldn't I be the one asking *you* that question? You're the one who looks like he's lost a bunch of weight." Wes nodded and continued to watch him as he took the mug from the microwave and drank down the blood. Hunger slightly appeased, Angel went back toward the bed, hesitated, and then picked up his pants and put them on. "I suppose we *should* get dressed," Wesley acknowledged, and started to get up. Angel bent quickly to get Wes' clothes for him, and handed them over. This earned him a flash of a smile and a quiet, "Thank you." "Welcome." He went over to his closet for a new shirt to replace the missing-buttons one and drew it on. "You hungry? Want me to call and order you something from the diner?" Before Wesley could answer there was a knock on the door and Angel heard Fred saying "Angel? It's me, Fred." He glanced at Wes, who quickly finished putting his clothes on and made an attempt to straighten the bed while Angel went to the door and quietly unlocked it. Doing his best to act casual, he opened the door. "Hi," Fred said, giving a little wave. "Sorry to, um... we stopped and got some lunch on the way back, but Wesley wasn't downstairs, and I thought maybe you'd know where he went? We thought..." She stopped as Wesley came up behind Angel. "Oh. Hi, Wesley. We brought you back some food." Wesley moved around him and closer to Fred, but as he did his hand slid across Angel's lower back in a way that wouldn't be visible to her. "Thank you, that was thoughtful." "So, if you wanted to..." Fred hesitated. "Unless... am I interrupting something? Were you two having a private talk? I'm sorry. I should probably go..." "Fred," Wesley said gently, stopping the flow of words before she could get any farther. "It's all right. We were just..." He glanced at Angel as if for help. "We... I, um..." Angel glanced down at his mostly-buttoned shirt and had an idea. "My other shirt. Lost a button. So I had to come up here to get a new one." "We were in the middle of a conversation, so I walked upstairs with him," Wesley continued smoothly, picking up the ball that Angel thought he had fumbled pitifully. "Well good," Fred said, not seeming to have noticed that Angel was acting odd. On the other hand, maybe he was *always* odd. "So do y'all want to come back downstairs, then?" "Of course," said Wes. They went along the hallway and then down the staircase, Angel buttoning his shirt as they walked. Gunn was at the counter, having already dug some of the food out of the bags. "Hey," he said as they arrived. "We got all your favorites, man. Hope you're hungry." Bustling over to join him, Fred starting unpacking more food, pushing it in Wesley's direction. "A chicken sandwich from Izzy's, Greek salad from the diner, and those ginger cookies from the bakery that you used to like so much, and..." She gave Wesley a wide-eyed glance of apology. "And you aren't going to be able to eat all of this, are you? I guess I got carried away." Gunn reached out a hand and patted her back gently. "Everyone's gotta have an obsession. Yours just happens to be food, is all." She smiled. "Right. Well, we can save whatever you don't eat." Wesley reached out and took the styrofoam container with the sandwich in it. "Thank you," he said again, and Angel didn't fail to notice the warmth that had crept into his voice. "No problem," Gunn said. "You look like you could use a good meal." Angel nodded. "See, that's what I was telling him." "Well, you're home now," Fred said, smiling shyly. "We'll all just have to take better care of you." Wes had a mouthful of sandwich and couldn't respond. "So now we wait, is that it?" Gunn asked. "For the next vision? See what happens?" Wesley chewed and swallowed. "Essentially, yes. I'm hopeful that the spell will have resulted in an improvement, but it's difficult to predict." His own mouth half full of food, Gunn gestured with one hand. "That sucks. Spells should come with some kinda guarantee." "Wouldn't that be nice," Wes said dryly. Angel wondered if he was thinking about the earlier spell that had gone bad. "There aren't any guarantees, not in... not in what we do." "That's true," said Fred. "You never know what's going to happen. You just have to take each day as it comes and be grateful no one's calling you a cow." She nodded seriously and took an enormous bite of her sandwich. Wes looked startled at her pronouncement, but Gunn just gazed at her fondly. "That's my girl. Logic and an appetite too." Angel suppressed a chuckle at Wes' expression, and moved over to lean against the counter. The other three continued to talk, light banter that he let wash over him gently. It was peaceful. He watched Wes's mouth as he talked, and as he ate, and stopped listening to the words in favor of the sounds. Suddenly, he realized that someone had been repeating his name. "What?" "I was saying, maybe you should take Wesley home early. He looks tired," Fred said. "And I was saying," Wesley said, with something resembling patience-worn-thin, "that I'm fine, and perfectly capable of remaining at work until the end of the day." But Fred was right, Wes *did* look tired, and the last thing Angel wanted was for him to totally exhaust himself. Plus, he thought guiltily, at least some of the exhaustion was his fault. You'd think at two hundred and forty-plus years, he'd have enough self control to leave the poor guy alone when he was already worn out. "Yeah, you're right," he said shortly, answering Fred. He glanced outside. It was still overcast -- he could chance it. "Come on, Wes, grab your coat and whatever else you need and I'll give you a lift." "Really, Angel, I'm fine," Wesley said. "Okay then, let's make sure you stay that way. Go home, catch up on your sleep. Come in for a full day tomorrow if you want." Angel was determined that he was going to have his way on this one. Wesley looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. "All right. Just let me get my things then." He disappeared around the corner into the office. "He's not mad?" Fred asked. "I mean, he *does* look tired. I just thought maybe it would be better -- I mean, he just got back, and..." "If he's mad, it's at me," Angel reassured her. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." Gunn crossed his arms and nodded. "Do that." "I will. I just said I -- " Angel broke off as Wes came back around the corner with his jacket thrown over his arm and a file folder in the same hand. "So, we'll see you in the morning?" Fred said, a little nervously. Wesley nodded. "Yes, of course. And thank you again for the lunch." Gunn clapped him on the back. "No problem, man. See ya tomorrow." "You're mad at me," Angel observed as he pulled the car away from the curb. Wes sighed very quietly, the sound almost inaudible over the noise of the city as they drove. "No, I'm not. You were right -- I *am* tired and it's probably for the best that I go home and try to get some rest. Although I would prefer it in the future if you'd ask rather than order." "You don't like me ordering you around?" Angel tried for levity. "Not particularly, no. Not under these circumstance, at any rate." Angel looked at him sideways. "But there are some circumstances. When you wouldn't mind me ordering you around." "Some," Wesley confirmed. "However, in the office is *not* one of them." "Okay. I'll try to remember." Chastened, Angel reached over and patted Wes's knee gently. "Sorry." "It's all right." "I just don't want you to make yourself sick." "Angel, it's all *right.*" Wesley smiled at him. "Honestly." When they arrived outside of Wes's apartment, Angel moved to shut off the car, but Wesley put a hand over his and stopped him. "I'll be fine," he said. "I'm perfectly capable of spending a night on my own." "Oh. Right. Sure, of course you will. I didn't -- " "Angel. I'm not rejecting you, I'd just like a little time to myself. To think, to settle back in, to get some sleep without the... rather impressive distraction that is you hanging about, tempting me to further physical demonstrations of my affections." Angel smiled. "Affections?" "Well, I'm not sleeping with you because I *dislike* you," Wesley pointed out. This was the issue Angel had been skirting around, probably clumsily, but he didn't think this was the time to try to bring it up again. Instead he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers across Wesley's cheek. "Yeah," he said softly. "So I'll see you tomorrow?" "Of course you will. I'll be in in the morning." Wes's eyes were bright with... well, maybe it was exhaustion, but Angel preferred to think it might be something else. That affection, maybe. He leaned over quickly and kissed Wes, then pulled back. "Okay. Get some rest. Call me if you need anything." "I will. Thank you." Wesley opened up the door and walked purposefully over to the building. In the doorway, he paused and looked back. Angel smiled, and went back to the hotel. He'd been puttering around for almost an hour -- he couldn't settle. Which was unusual for him -- normally, he could sit in one space and think, without moving, for long periods of time. Brooding, honestly. The hotel seemed too quiet, even though it wasn't any quieter than it had been for months, at night. Fred slept at Gunn's now, although every once in a while they'd both stay at the hotel, if the mood struck them. Now, knowing that Wes was back and *could* have been here, but wasn't... the place felt empty. Angel got up again and went to the fridge, opened it up. Looked inside. Nope, still just blood in there. Not that he'd have wanted anything else. Not that there had *been* anything else in there since Connor's formula, which had stunk everything up to high heaven, not that he'd dare complain about that now. The phone rang and he jumped for it eagerly. "Hello?" "Angel, it's me." Wes. His immediate reaction was to ask, "Something wrong?" "No, everything's fine. I just thought I'd check in before I went to bed, see how everything was on your end." Angel leaned against the table. "Everything's good here. Quiet." "Yes, I'd imagine so. Fred doesn't sleep there anymore, does she." "Not often." With great restraint he managed not to ask if there had been any visions. Wes would have told him if there had been. "What have you been doing?" "Oh... you know, I'm busy. Keeping busy. Doing lots of... stuff." "You're sitting around like a useless prat, aren't you." Angel chuckled. "Pretty much." "I should have..." Wes hesitated. "What?" "I should have had you stay," Wesley admitted quietly. Warmed, Angel had to pause for a few seconds before he could answer. "I could come over now?" Wes sighed. "No, it's late. And I really should get some sleep. I'm probably not up for anything... strenuous. But I do miss you." "Yeah. I miss you, too." A long pause. "Angel? What are we doing?" He tried to wrap his brain around that one. "Um... huh?" "You and I. What are we doing?" "Talking on the phone?" Angel offered finally. Wesley made a little sound of exasperation. "I know *that.* I meant... the two of us, together. What is this?" *Oh.* Now he understood the question. But that didn't make him want to answer it. Maybe he didn't *have* the answer. He decided to go with what he'd said before. "It's not just about sex, Wesley." "You said that earlier. Would you be willing to tell me what it *is* about?" Angel sighed. "I... care about you." He could practically hear Wesley nodding through the phone line. "All right. I care about you, as well." "So that's not what you were asking?" "I suppose I'm trying to ask where this is going. Partially because I think that sooner or later Fred and Gunn will figure out that something's going on, and I'd prefer to have the opportunity to inform them before that happens." That hadn't even occured to him, but it made sense. "Yeah. You're right. We'll have to tell them." "What, exactly?" Angel scratched his head. "Huh?" "What are we going to tell them, exactly?" Wes repeated patiently. "Oh, right. That we're..." He ran out of words. "And we finally come down to the heart of the matter. Do we tell them that we're friends who happen to be having sex? Because I'm not completely comfortable couching it in those terms." Angel suppressed a wicked urge to say that he'd like to couch Wes anytime, and struggled back to the conversation they were actually having. "Yeah. I mean, no, that's probably not the way to tell them." Wes sighed. "Well. Perhaps we can think it over and try to come to some decision in the next day or two." "Right. Good idea." He'd obviously lost all control, so the best thing to do was just continue on like everything was fine. "Yeah." "I thought I was the one who was uncomfortable with this sort of conversation," Wesley said lightly. The tone -- heck, just the sound of Wes' voice -- made Angel want to touch him. "Sure I can't come over?" "Quite sure. I'm going to bed." "If I was there, I could go to bed *with* you," Angel pointed out. "True, but as I said before, that wouldn't result in my getting any actual rest. And since *you* were the one insisting that I come home early so that I *could* rest, you'd be very lax in your duty if you came over and kept me up." "You saying there isn't even some little part of you that would like me to come over there? Or maybe some... *not* so little part?" He could hear Wes's intake of breath, but this time it was followed by a light chuckle. "I'm not saying that, no." "Where are ya?" "In bed." "You dressed?" "No, actually, as a matter of fact I'm not. I was planning on going to sleep as soon as we hung up the phone." Angel smiled slowly, picturing Wes laid out in bed, naked. "You can still do that," he said. "Once I'm finished with you." "Really. And what did you have in mind?" Oh, yeah, this was gonna be fun. He moved over to his own bed and lay back, crossing his feet at the ankles, one arm behind his head. "I want you to touch yourself." "You really do have a one-track mind, don't you." "What can I say? I know what I like. And I'd like to be there doing the touching, myself, but since you say no, I'll just have to do it this way." Angel sighed dramatically. "Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you," Wesley said. "I'm a lot more fun when I'm not disappointed," Angel agreed. "You going to do what I tell you? Or is this another one of those situations where you don't like me ordering you around?" He could almost see Wes's smile. "I suppose I can make an exception under these circumstances. Do I get more specific instructions, or am I free to interpret as I see fit?" "Lie on your back, with your legs spread," Angel said, keeping his voice low. "Bend one knee and run your hand up the inside of your thigh. Slow." All was quiet on the other end of the line. "You doing it?" "Yes." Wesley sounded calmer than he would have liked, but he knew how to fix that. "Touch your balls but not your cock. Real gentle for now." "What about later?" "You let me worry about later. And remember, gentle." Angel's hand stole to the front of his own pants, rubbing himself through the soft black silk just as gently as he was ordering Wes to do. "How's it feel?" "Frustrating," Wes admitted after a few seconds. He grinned. "Good. Don't get yourself off. *Gentle.* What's your other hand feel like doing?" Angel heard a quick intake of breath and could see, plain as day in his mind's eye, Wes' other hand on his cock. "*Don't* touch your cock." Wes made an effort to calm himself. "Sorry. You asked what my other hand wanted to do and I think it considered that an invitation." "Well, tell your hand it'll know an invitation when it hears one. Until then, only do what I say. You got it?" "I thought you just finished telling me *not* to have it," Wesley said. "You want me to tell you that this is about more than sex, Wes?" he asked, changing tacks abruptly and pleased by the answering change he heard in Wes' breathing. "Yes." "This is about more... than just sex," Angel said. "This is about me caring about you. Feeling like something's missing when you aren't around." No response from Wesley. Angel took that as an permission to continue. "I think about touching you all the time." "That would fall under the 'this is about sex' category again," Wesley said. "Okay -- I also like to think about you touching yourself." He hoped Wes was still doing it. "And that wouldn't fall under the sex category how, exactly?" "You touching yourself isn't sex," Angel explained. "It's masturbation. Totally different." "Really." "Yeah. You don't count the first time you ever jerked off as the first time you had sex, do you?" "I suppose you've got a point there." Wes sounded amused. "Enough talking," Angel said, letting a little bit of a growl slip into his voice. "And close your eyes." He waited another second or two and then ordered, "Now I want you to touch your cock... again, gentle." "I can... do that," Wesley said, and there was only the tiniest hitch to his voice, but it made Angel smile. He slid his own hand down into his pants, grabbing onto his own cock, which was already hard and just getting harder as he listened to Wesley's breathing. "Good boy. Not too fast, now. Just nice and slow." Christ, he could fucking *hear* the rhythm that Wes was setting... nice and slow, just like he'd been told. Angel matched that rhythm with his hips, thrusting his cock lazily up into his fist. Letting himself enjoy it. "Any other suggestions?" Wesley asked after thirty seconds or so. "Don't come," Angel said. "Only that's not a suggestion -- more like me telling you what to do." "Well then, there's hardly any point to this exercise, is there?" The way Wes could sound calm and proper when he was turned on, when Angel *knew* that Wes was still jacking himself off, just made it that much hotter. "I didn't say you couldn't come at *all*," Angel told him. "Just not right away." "All right," Wes agreed. "Are you... as well?" Angel snorted. "You think I could listen to you doing that and not?" Wesley made a little sound of pleasure, and then said, "Of course -- you can hear everything, can't you." "Yeah. Not as good as getting to *see* everything, but it'll do." A good imagination didn't hurt either. He could picture Wes stretched out on his back, one leg bent, cock in hand. The flush on his skin like the first palest tinge of sunrise. "I want to -- " Wes started. "No," Angel said. "Not yet. Keep going. Slow it down, if you have to." Wesley did, his hand's movements at half speed now. "Please," he said after a minute. "Angel..." "Not yet," Angel said, though his own hips were moving faster now, and his cock and hand were slick with pre-come. Gasps on the other end of the line, almost-pained sounds that slipped from Wes despite his obvious attempts to hold them in. "Angel, *please.*" "Okay," Angel said, needing Wes to come more than he needed to himself. "Come on, Wes, let me hear you." "Angel," Wes whimpered, and he heard Wes' breath catch in his throat and the faint groan as Wes came, and that was more than enough to throw him over the edge too. Angel's thighs tensed and his back arched slightly, his cock throbbing between his fingers as the orgasm spilled from him along with a moan of pleasure. He waited while Wes' breathing slowed gradually, a slight hum to the outward breaths that spoke of satisfaction, before he asked, "Better?" Wesley chuckled. "Better than what? Better than having you here? No, most assuredly not." "You were the one who -- " "I know," Wesley said. "I know. And you were right." Angel blinked. He wasn't used to hearing anyone say those words, or at least, not directed at him. "I was?" "Yes. You should have spent the night." "Yeah. You said that before." Filled with lassitude now, Angel longed to just hold Wes, to have him in his arms and... geez, soft didn't even begin to describe it. He was head over heels, was what he was. "Well, there's always tomorrow." "That's true." Wes' voice was quiet now. "Angel?" "Yeah, Wes?" "Thank you. For... everything." Angel smiled. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning." "All right. Good night, l-" Wes cut himself off from whatever he'd been about to say and finished simply, "Good night." "'Night, Wes." The following evening: It was late, and the restaurant was close to empty. "That's really not the point," Fred was saying. "I mean, if there's a way to make the visions less damaging to Wesley's brain, why wouldn't there be a way to transfer them back - or, first..." her forehead wrinkled in confusion at what she was trying to say for a second before she continued, "Okay, not *back,* but to someone else? Someone who's *already* part demon like that Doyle guy was?" "Well, we'd need to find someone who didn't mind his or her brain being assaulted on a regular basis," Wesley pointed out, as he used his fork to push the last few bites of his food around on his plate. "Not to mention someone who was willing to commit to the cause, to put his or her life in jeopardy... it seems far simpler for me to just continue on the way I have been." "Unless that spell didn't work," Angel said, joining in the conversation for the first time in minutes. He'd been slowly sipping a glass of red wine while the others ate dinner and Wesley filled Gunn and Fred in on what he'd done in his time on the East coast. "Unless it didn't work," Wesley agreed. "In which case we'll need to explore other avenues." "Like what?" Angel met his gaze seriously, aware of Fred and Gunn on the periphery but not needing them for this discussion. Wesley glanced down at his plate. "Other avenues," he repeated. "If I knew exactly what they were, I'd tell you." He looked back up at Angel, and his blue eyes spoke volumes. Gunn cleared his throat. "Well, we'll do what we've got to, right? Seems to me like there are spells for everything - if this wasn't the right one, the right one's gotta be out there somewhere." "Exactly," Wesley said, nodding at him. "There are always other avenues. One simply has to find them." "Right now the avenue *I* need is to the men's room," said Gunn, pushing back from the table and standing up. "Be right back." As soon as he was out of sight, Fred leaned forward in her seat and said, conspiratorially, "I know what's going on, you know." Angel glanced at Wes before he could stop himself, knowing even as he did that it could give the game away. Assuming Wes wanted to deny whatever it was Fred thought she knew. "Um... right. What do you know?" She widened her eyes. "About you two." "About Angel and myself?" Wesley asked, obviously hoping that she'd clarify what she meant. "Well yeah. You think I haven't noticed all the little looks, and the touching? I'm not blind, you guys - I mean, sure, maybe I'm a little bit scattered sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't see things." It hadn't escaped Angel that she'd waited until Gunn had left the table to speak up. "You, um... you haven't said anything to Gunn?" Fred dropped her eyes to the tablecloth in front of her, her fingers stealing out to pluck at a tiny imperfection in the fabric. "I didn't - I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure how he'd take it." Wesley nodded. "And what do *you* think about it, Fred?" She glanced up at both of them and smiled shyly. "It's fine by me. I mean, it's not really any of my business. I just thought you should know... that I know." "You don't think Gunn's gonna like the idea," Angel said flatly. "I don't know," Fred repeated. "Sometimes guys can be funny about things like that. My uncle had a fit when he found out my cousin was gay. Well actually, she prefers the term lesbian. And sometimes she called her girlfriend a dyke, which I don't understand. I mean, why 'dyke?' What does a big, solid wall have to do with lesbians?" "Well, I don't think - " Angel started. But Fred continued on without pause. "I mean, dikes hold back water. And a lesbian dyke is like a really tough woman, right? Is there some connection there that I'm missing?" Her expression was puzzled. "Honestly, Fred, I've no idea," Wesley answered her. "Well anyway, that's not important. I was just trying to explain why it's okay with me. Not that you need my permission or anything." Wesley nodded. "No, but it's good of you to say." He glanced at Angel as if *he* was the one looking for permission, and then continued, "It's still... rather new. We're trying to figure things out. We weren't deliberately keeping it from you..." "Oh, I figured that," Fred said with a wave of her hand. "Besides, you're entitled to some privacy. And I don't mean to be sticking my nose into it -- it just seemed weird not to tell you that I knew. That's why I wanted to say something." "And why you waited until the right moment to do so," Wesley pointed out, looking deliberately in the direction in which Gunn had disappeared. "Yeah. I thought the last thing you needed was someone getting all strange on you. Not that I know Charles *would* get all strange because maybe he wouldn't and I'm just worrying for nothing and..." She dropped her eyes to the tablecloth again. "But I'm... happy for you, you know?" Angel felt warmed by her words in a way he wouldn't have liked to admit. "Thanks." Before Wesley could say anything, Gunn came back to the table and slumped down into his chair in the loose-limbed, nearly-boneless way he had of relaxing. "Okay, what's with the serious faces?" Angel knew better than to try the lie himself -- he quickly picked up his glass of wine and took another sip as an excuse. "We were just saying that it's hard, waiting for the next vision. You know, waiting to see what happens," Fred said, nodding like people were agreeing with her or she was agreeing with someone else. Or something. "Right," said Gunn. "But we've got it covered, right? I mean, nothing more we can do now 'cept wait." "Exactly," Wes said. "Just because *some people* - who shall remain nameless - " and he looked pointedly at Angel in emphasis, "think we should be able to control every little aspect of life, doesn't mean we can." Angel thought that was pretty rich, coming from Wesley. "I never said anything about controlling," he protested mildly. "No, but it's what you'd like to do, isn't it?" "Well... yeah," he said. "But I didn't *say* that." "You didn't have to." Their eyes were locked on each other, and Angel was aware of how intense the conversation was getting. "It's normal to want to control things," Fred broke in, as if she'd sensed the tension and wanted to do something to relieve it. "People like to control all sorts of things. Or try to, anyway." "This is getting pretty heavy," Gunn said. "I thought this was s'posed to be a celebration about Wes making it home safe and sound. What happened to the lighthearted fun?" "I broke it?" Angel suggested, and felt well-rewarded when Fred and Gunn both broke into wide smiles. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'You broke it, you bought it?'" Gunn asked. He grinned back and glanced at Wesley, who was looking mildly amused at the very least. "How much is lighthearted fun going for these days, anyway?" "Quite a bit more than any of us can afford," Wes said. "Perhaps we can apply for a grant." "Awful lot of paperwork," Gunn pointed out. "But for good reason," Wesley said. "Everyone needs *some* lighthearted fun. What do you suppose our lives would be like without it?" Gunn's eyes crinkled as he grinned. "Pretty much the way they are now?" "Oh, yes. Good point." "If this isn't lighthearted fun, I don't know what is," Angel said, trying to sound grumpy and failing miserably. His heart was lighter than it had been in a long time. Wesley had gotten up to take a book from the shelf when he suddenly stiffened, just the tiniest bit. Anyone else might not have noticed. But Angel did. He flew across the room and grabbed onto Wes just as his back arched and he dove sideways, one hand clutched to his head as he spasmed. "Shh," Angel said helplessly, trying to soothe him with words and hands and not knowing if it was doing a damned bit of good. Wesley jerked again, breathing suspended. "Okay, hang on, Wes. Just another second. Hang on." Five seconds more, and then Wesley relaxed in his arms with a sigh. Angel could feel the long, shuddering trembles that went through him, and then he smelled blood. "Damn," Wes said hoarsely, and scrabbled in his pocket. "Shh," Angel said again, as he shoved Wesley's hand aside and got the handkerchief he'd been looking for. He pressed it under Wes' nose and held it there until Wes got his own hand around it. "I thought these had stopped." "They had," Wesley said, his voice muffled until he adjusted the handkerchief, refolding it more compactly. "These are new ones. From the spell." He sat up slowly without moving out of Angel's embrace. Angel frowned. "But they'll go away? Like before?" He hadn't failed to notice that Wesley seemed to be in less pain this time, that the vision had been shorter. "I should think so, yes." Wesley pulled the cotton square away from his face and looked at it dubiously. "As I said before, this spell wasn't as powerful as the previous one. One would hope that the residual effects of the spell would be of lesser intensity, as well." He glanced at Angel. "A number of demons -- at least four or five, possibly more -- attacking a woman in an alley." "When and where?" Angel asked, rocking his weight back onto his heels in case he'd need to move fast. Wesley hesitated, and then just as he opened his mouth to speak, Gunn appeared in the office doorway. "Vision?" "Yes," Wesley answered, and started to get to his feet. Gunn moved forward in time to get Wes' other arm, and between them they helped him up and over to a chair. "We have time," Wesley said. "It's not until this evening..." "But what?" Angel asked. "It's the location that's going to be a problem. It's not here -- not in L.A., I mean. It's somewhere north, perhaps northeast -- a couple of hours. I saw a few landmarks -- I'll have to get on the computer and see if I can't determine exactly where it is we're meant to go..." Wesley started to get up again, and Angel pushed him back down with a hand on his shoulder. "If we've got until tonight, you've got five minutes to catch your breath before you go into research mode," Angel pointed out, and then paused. "Seems like that spell worked." "Yes, doesn't it," said Wesley, rubbing at his temples and dabbing at his nose one last time with the handkerchief. The smell of the now-drying blood was like an off-key note in Angel's nostrils -- he could sense the perfection because it was Wes. The dissonance came in because it was something he had to deny himself at all costs. "You want some aspirin or somethin'?" Gunn asked, looking at Wesley worriedly. "Maybe the spell worked, but you still look like you took a hard right to the chin." Wes started to nod and then aborted the movement. "Well, that's part of the problem, certainly. If you block enough of the vision to render it painless, you also render it unseeable -- or unreadable, I suppose. My hope is that the spell has brought the visions down to the level of discomfort that Doyle used to experience." "Doesn't sound like too much to hope for to me," Gunn said, heading for the doorway. As soon as he was gone, Angel cupped Wesley's chin in his hand and turned his head, forcing Wes to meet his eyes. "You okay?" Wesley nodded. "Yes. It's a marked improvement, honestly. I'm not certain how we'll be able to judge whether the actual damage is being averted, but as I said, I'm hopeful." Angel's hand moved up along Wes' jawline and around to cup the back of his head. The thought of what had happened to Cordy happening to Wes... it made him feel sick. He leaned down and kissed Wes, softly, lingeringly. "Hopeful's not good enough," he said. Wes just looked at him. "I don't know what you want me to say, Angel," he said finally. "That you'll be okay." "None of us can know that." Something in his gut twisted and Angel frowned, his thumb still caressing the space just behind Wesley's ear. "I need you to be okay," he admitted. "I'll do my best," Wes said, half of his mouth curving up into an almost-smile. "As long as you'll promise to do the same." He'd just started to lean in again when Gunn came back into the office with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. Angel pulled his hand back from Wes's head and stood up straighter, trying to look casual. Gunn raised an eyebrow at him. "Something going on that I should know about?" "What? No. I mean... no." Angel smiled nervously. "Right." Gunn handed the glass of water to Wesley and pried the cap off of the bottle. "How many you want?" Wesley seemed to consider this for a few seconds. "Two, please." Two, Angel thought, was a good number. "Vecznuchnz," Wesley said. "God bless you?" Wesley shot Angel a look. "The demons," he said patiently. "Oh. Right." Angel got up from where he'd been sitting and came over to take the book Wesley was offering him. "They look - big," he said. Which was an understatement - the things were huge, if the scale of the drawings was accurate. The little humanoid pencil sketch was barely over half the height of the demon, which looked more like a kid's crude clay version of a monster than anything else. Wes nodded. "Yes, they're quite large. As adults they sometimes reach up to eight feet in height and they're... well, the picture may be a slight exaggeration, but... large is probably a sufficient description." He looked down at the drawing again, and then back up at Wesley. "And there were how many of them?" "Four or five. At least." Wes looked almost apologetic, like he didn't want to be bearer of bad news. "Sounds like we're gonna need some serious firepower," Gunn said from his place behind Fred, who was sitting in front of the computer. "Weapons aren't a problem," Wesley said. "Again, the issue is identifying the location." Fred hit a few more keys, and then turned to look at them with a smile. "That's not an issue, either. I think I've got it." "Really? Well done." Wesley got up and went to look over her shoulder too, so Angel followed. Pointing to the screen in illustration, Fred explained, "There, see? An alley behind a big building -- that's this office building. And it's brick, just like you said, and the number's 697. It's the only one that makes any sense." "I think you're right," Wesley said. "That could very well be it. Good work, Fred." She beamed up at him, obviously delighted at the praise. Throw the girl a scrap and she'd act like she'd been given a diamond ring. Angel was never sure if that was endearing, or just sad. "So what are we talking as far as weapons go?" Gunn asked. "What's gonna take these things down?" Wesley came back and took the book from Angel's hands. "Fire's no good," he said ruefully. "Which is unfortunate. Severing their heads is effective..." "Old standby," Gunn muttered. "...except," Wesley continued, looking at Gunn, "for the fact that their spines are exceedingly strong." "How strong?" Fred asked. "People who've attempted to cut the bodies up for disposal have discovered that chain saws haven't been enough to get the job done." Gunn crossed his arms and looked annoyed. He was good at that. "Okay," he said. "So what *will* work?" "I'm afraid we're stuck with hacking them into little pieces until they stop moving." "And that," Angel said, taking the book back from Wes and setting it down on the desk next to the computer, "would be the old standby." "It looks like it'll take about an hour and a half to get there." Fred was typing away at the computer again, and the printer made a beeping sound and then started to scroll a piece of paper through. "Did you get a time?" "I definitely got the impression that it's going to be on the late side," Wesley answered. "But I think it best if we err on the side of caution and try to get there before nightfall." "Might want to think about hitting the road, then," Gunn said, looking at his watch. "Want me to load up the truck?" Wesley didn't respond for a few seconds, and Angel realized that he didn't know they were all waiting for him to answer. "Wes?" he prompted. Startled, Wesley looked at him and then at Gunn. "Oh. Er, no, let's take the SUV," he said. "Easier to keep Angel out of the sunlight, if we're going to be leaving soon." "We should take some of the projectile weapons," Fred offered. "I mean, better not to have to get too close, right? Especially if these demons are extra-tough." Angel nodded and then shook his head. "Um, Fred. I think you should stay here. Tonight." "Oh." Fred's expression was a mixture of disappointment and relief. Gunn came over and leaned down, wrapping his arms around her thin frame and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Yeah. You stay here where it's safe." "But maybe I could help," Fred protested. Wesley cleared his throat. "I think it should be Fred's decision, don't you?" She nodded briskly from within the circle of Gunn's arms and said, "It's not that I don't appreciate you wanting to protect me -- I do. But there's no guarantee that anyone's going to be safe, anywhere. Believe me, I know." Angel frowned. He didn't want to stir up trouble, or go against what Wes wanted. But he didn't like the idea of Fred in the middle of the kind of battle they were talking about. "She should stay here," he found himself saying, looking at Wesley and not Fred. "She's not a child," Wesley said, and his voice had a sharp edge to it that Angel wasn't sure he could remember having heard before. Wasn't sure that he liked. More quietly, Wes continued, "She can make her own decisions." "I don't think -- " Angel started, but Fred jumped in to interrupt him. "No, it's okay," she said quickly. "I think... Charles is right. I'll stay here. Besides, it's good to have someone here to answer the phone, right?" She had that slightly-scared look about her, the one that spoke of wanting everyone to get along. Angel nodded shortly. "Good. I'm just gonna go... get some weapons..." He left the office and headed for the weapons' cabinet, wanting - no, *needing,* a few minutes to himself. He should have known he wouldn't get it. Within thirty seconds Wesley was there beside him, looking thoughtfully at the collection of swords and axes. "Sorry," Angel said. Wesley reached out and took the newer crossbow from the case. "It's all right." "No, you're right. Fred can make her own decisions. It's not up to me to tell her whether she has to stay. Or... not." "You're still in charge here, Angel," Wes said, pulling back the string of the crossbow with some effort. Angel'd thought that thing needed to be loosened up. Wes turned to look at him. "You know that." Actually, Angel thought, which of them was in charge was one of the things he *didn't* know. "Doesn't mean I can make other people's decisions for them," he offered finally. "And this isn't about who's in charge." "No?" Wesley's blue eyes were watching him, slightly guarded. "No. It's about what's right." Wesley nodded, a little smile playing about his lips. "This isn't easy, is it." "Nah. They say nothing worth having comes easy, though." "You're sure this looks familiar?" Angel wasn't trying to be annoying, but they'd been hanging out for more than half an hour and he was starting to get antsy. Gunn was getting twitchy too. Angel thought that they were making each other nervous. Wes, on the other hand, was projecting an aura of calm, waiting patiently like they had all night. "I'm as sure as I was the last time you asked me, which was less than five minutes ago," he pointed out. "This is -- " Before he could finish his sentence, Angel caught the faintest hint of a sound, like a shriek being cut off along with someone's air. "Quiet," he said quickly, and then, "This way," as he took off in the direction that the noise had come from, leaving Gunn and Wesley to follow as best they could with human speed. Angel turned the corner all in a blur and nearly ran smack into a demon the size of a house -- well, okay, maybe more like a shack, but still. There was a difference between seeing a drawing of something in a book and actually encountering it in all its slathering glory. The demon swung at him -- not too fast, thank God -- and he ducked and slipped under its arm behind it, bringing his sword in a smooth arc up against the back of its neck. The blade sliced in deep, and then he felt the jarring of his own arm muscles as the swing was stopped by bone. Blood spurted as he yanked the sword back out and whirled away, trying to get a feel for the situation. There were two more demons close by, and another two had the woman who had cried out earlier further back in the alleyway. She was struggling weakly, but Angel thought she was already at the end of her endurance. He thought they must be planning on taking her somewhere, to kill or feed, or they'd already have done it. Gunn rounded the corner, followed closely by Wesley. Even from where he was Angel could see Wes take in the scene in a fraction of an instant, could see the comprehension and sense of control flash across his face. He had to force himself to turn his attention back to the battle rather than continue to watch Wes. Leaving the injured demon to Gunn and Wesley, he moved quickly to the nearest of the other two and attacked without pause, hacking at it with his sword with as much force as he could put into the swings. He hit its arms several times each, and it seemed to be losing a good deal of blood. Again, he was grateful that these things weren't faster. Angel danced out of the way of a lumbering blow from the second demon and jammed the sword into the first one's side, up under where he thought its ribcage might be, hoping he might get lucky and puncture something important. The creature screamed, the sound like a fierce wind, and as Angel struggled to pull the sword free -- because you never abandoned your weapon if you could help it -- the second demon slammed into him with its giant paw. He felt the blow across his side like a sledgehammer -- and yeah, he remembered what being hit with a sledgehammer felt like. It was the kind of blow that would have knocked the breath from a living creature. Angel stubbornly kept his grip on the hilt of his sword, and he felt the blade slip free of the first demon's body at the same time his own hurtled through the air. He slid across the cement, feeling the already-torn fabric of his shirt disintegrate from the friction, taking a bunch of his skin with it. It was like being rubbed across sandpaper. Rolling, Angel got back up, sword in hand, in time to see the original demon go down, Gunn hacking at it with his axe. Wesley had already turned his attention to the third demon, and as Angel watched a bolt from the crossbow flew through the air to land with a meaty *thock* in the third demon's throat. The second creature -- the one he'd stabbed -- was already down and didn't seem capable of getting back up. The standing demon pawed at its own neck, trying to remove the bolt, and only succeeded in snapping the shaft, leaving the barbed metal head buried in its throat. It moved toward Wesley -- faster than Angel would have thought likely, considering -- and Angel leapt toward it, dimly aware that one of the demons that had been dragging the woman further away down the alley had left its companion-in-kidnapping and was now headed back toward the fray. He hacked at the one that seemed intent on Wesley, who calmly reloaded the crossbow and hit it with another bolt, this one embedding itself in the creature's cheek just below its eye. It made one of those wind-like shrieks and swept its arm at Wes, who managed to jump back out of the way in time. "Watch it," Angel shouted at him, too late. Gunn finished with the first demon and came to help, his axe slicing through the air. Slice. Arm. Slice. Side. Slice. Shoulder. Angel turned to engage the fourth demon and heard a voice -- a familiar voice that wasn't Gunn's or Wesley's -- say, very clearly, "Angelus." He glanced sideways and caught sight of a slender person standing, weapon in hand, to one side of the alleyway. His eyes flickered across the figure, back toward the approaching demon, and then, hopelessly, helplessly, back to the young man standing there. Connor. Undead hearts don't stop or skip a beat when something dramatic happens, but Angel was frozen all the same. He knew that the demon was close, and then that it was too close, and he heard Wesley shouting his name just as a tremendous blow struck him and blotted out the world. Something was touching his face. Angel tried to jerk away from the touch, but gentle hands subdued him, hands that his body recognized even while his mind was still reeling in confusion. He relented, sinking back down onto the wadded up, lumpy fabric underneath his head. It was dark and he blinked rapidly, unable to remember the last time his vision had been so screwed up. "Hang on," he heard someone saying, as if from far away, and then a rough cloth was wiping his eyes. He blinked some more and his vision cleared, mostly. Angel realized that his eyes had been full of blood. "Angel? Can you hear me?" He could, although something was messed up about his hearing too, and it was Wes' voice so he wanted to answer, but he couldn't find any words. He brought a hand up to his ear and wiped his fingers across it, and they came away wet with more blood. There was a muffled exclamation from Wesley, and then the same cloth was swabbing the side of his head gently, removing some of the blood from his ear canal. Sound returned to its normal volume. "Wes?" he croaked, and even with his hearing back, his voice sounded wrong. "It's all right. Just lie still for a few moments until you get your strength back." Wesley's face came into view. There was a smear of blood across his glasses and another across his cheek, but he looked good to Angel. Damned good. "What happened? The girl?" Memory poured over him, and he struggled to a sitting position despite the burning pain in his side and the crushing one in his head. "Connor." Wesley moved immediately to support him, a warm arm behind his back. "He was here," he agreed, and just that acknowledgement was enough to make Angel relax a bit. "He helped us to kill the last two demons, and then he..." "He left," Angel finished for him, emptily. It wasn't like he hadn't been looking for the boy -- but all the same, actually finding him, in the last place he ever would have looked, had been a complete shock. A shock that could have gotten them all killed, he realized. "The girl?" he asked again. "She doesn't seem to be seriously injured -- Gunn's with her out at the front of the building, waiting for the ambulance." Wes looked over his shoulder as flashing lights bounced off all the reflective surfaces in the alley. "It's here. Hang on just a moment... and wait here," he said, in a voice that broached no argument. He got up and walked away, leaving Angel sitting there on the rough cement and feeling, just briefly, more alone than he could remember feeling for a long time. But the demons were dead, and he hurt, and it was easier to just sit there, especially considering the ambulance workers might want to take too close a look at him if they saw all the blood. He lowered his head to rest on his knee and sighed, then sat back up and inhaled carefully. Underneath all the other scents that were layered on top of each other -- blood, sweat, oil, manmade things like plastic -- he could smell Connor. Before he could even turn his head, Connor's voice came from the shadows. "I should have killed you." Angel did turn then, casually. "But you didn't." A long pause. "No. I thought..." A longer pause, and Angel waited. Finally, Connor said, "I wanted you to suffer." Angel listened carefully. He could hear Wes and Gunn talking at the other end of the alley, where the lights on the ambulance continued to flash. Silently urging them to stay where they were for just a little bit longer, he said, quietly, "Well, mission accomplished. Why?" "You needed to suffer. To make up for all the people that you hurt. All the people you killed." "Do you really think doing that to me made up for anything?" He kept his voice low. "Yes." Silence. "I don't know." Connor sounded frustrated, and he was so quiet that if Angel hadn't known better he might have thought he'd left again. "It doesn't matter. You got out." "Yeah. I did." He wasn't ready to go into the details of that, maybe ever. That whole period was something he didn't want to think about. "So what are you going to do now?" Angel tried to think of what to say. "What I've been doing all along -- trying to help people. I might not be able to make up for the things I've done in the past... but I have to try." "Right," Connor said dismissively. "Why are you here?" "Long story. Why are *you* here?" Another pause. Angel thought that a conversation between the two of them consisted of more silence than talking. Finally, Connor said, "She's missing. The other night, she went out to the store, and she didn't come home. Her car was still parked on the street, and I thought -- " "Who's missing?" Angel interrupted. "Justine." He blinked, and not just to clear his eyes of the blood that seemed like maybe it was leaking directly from them. "Justine," he repeated flatly. "You've... been with her all this time?" He thought he saw Connor nod. "We went far away -- to Utah. It was what my father wanted. It was beautiful there, but we couldn't stay." "Why not?" Angel hoped his voice didn't betray his feelings on hearing Connor call Holtz his father. "Because... because it was only one part of what he'd taught me. He -- I was supposed to lay waste to the evil. But there wasn't any there. So we came back." "You came back to California so that you could lay waste to evil." "I didn't know you'd be here," Connor said, with what might have been the tiniest hint of humor in his voice. Painfully, Angel shifted forward and got up slowly, aiming for being as non-threatening as possible. Which given the way he was favoring his injured side probably wasn't a big issue, now that he thought about it. "Well, like I said -- long story. Unless you want to stick around long enough to hear it?" Connor stepped backward, further into the shadows. "No. I have other things to do." Angel's disappointment and yearning were so strong that it was hard to remind himself that this boy was the one who'd tossed him into the ocean, planning to leave him there for all eternity. "Okay." The bitterness in his voice was apparent even to himself. Another long silence, and then,"You hate me now," Connor said, and Angel could hear him as he turned and started to walk away. When the boy spoke again it was in a very, very quiet voice. "Good. I hate you, too." "I don't hate you," he responded, but there was no reply. He repeated it, a little louder, the sound of his voice echoing slightly. "I don't hate you!" Angel was so focused on listening to the barely-there sounds of Connor as they faded into complete nothingness that he didn't notice when Wesley came back, and almost jumped out of his skin when Wes asked, "Was that...?" "Yeah." "Did he...?" "What?" Angel asked, and his voice was harsh. "Try to kill me? No. Apparently he's got better things to do." Wesley's hand was warm as it brushed against the back of his own. "I'm sorry," he offered. Angel sighed and tried to ignore the way his head was throbbing. "No. I shouldn't have let myself get distracted like that." "As soon as the ambulance leaves and Gunn comes back, we could go after him?" Wesley sounded hesitant. "No," he said again, and bent down to pick up Wes' coat that he'd been lying on before. He handed it over, wincing a little as the healing skin over his rib cage pulled tight. "It's too soon. I don't -- " "Um, guys?" Gunn said, heading up the alley toward them and stopping about ten feet away. "I hate to break up the parental conversation, but I think we've got a bigger problem on our hands." He jerked his thumb sideways and Angel moved toward him, trying to get his brain to absorb whatever it was he was being shown. "What are we looking at?" he asked. "Well, I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure there were five big dead hulking monsters here a little while ago." Angel's head swiveled as he took in their surroundings. One, two, three, four... four. Shit. "Shit," he said. "Number five wasn't dead." "Looks like. I thought it was right here..." Gunn gestured with his hand at the space, which intersected with another even more dimly-lit alleyway. "Which means it probably went that way," Wes said, thinking aloud what was obviously going through all of their heads at the same time. "Angel, can you...?" He moved in closer, the scent of the demon's blood thick in the air. It was rank and metallic, and once he'd taken a few steps down the alleyway it was easier to separate out the still-living smell from those of the already-dead. "Yeah," he said. "This way. Where's my sword?" Gunn cleared his throat. "It... didn't exactly survive the battle." "Okay." Angel continued to stalk his way further into the darkness, aware that Wesley and Gunn were following him. "What happened?" "When," there was only the slightest of hesitations before Wesley kept going, "Connor showed up and you were knocked out, he jumped into the fray and picked up your sword. He was quite remarkable, really - he's an amazing fighter. But after all of the demons had been killed -- although under the current circumstances I suppose it would be more accurate to say 'after we *thought* they'd all been killed' -- he..." The pause grew long and Gunn picked up the rest of the sentence. "He broke it over his knee." "He did what?" Angel stopped and looked back at both of them in amazement. "Okay, that doesn't make any sense. Why would he destroy a perfectly good..." Oh. Right. Because it belonged to the father that he didn't want to admit was his. Great. "He's hotheaded," Gunn said, as they started walking again. "Guess we know where he gets that from." "Can't imagine." Gunn made a sound that Angel recognized as frustration. "That's it? You don't have anything else to say about the fact that you just saw the kid that threw you into the ocean?" "Nope." It was easier not to talk about it. "You sure?" "Yeah. 'Course, there's the fact that he's also following us right now." Wesley and Gunn's steps both faltered behind him, and he paused so that they could keep up. The blood trail the demon had left behind was getting warmer; Angel didn't want to catch up with it too quickly, not if there were more of them where they were headed. "He's following us?" Wesley asked quietly, from his left side, pressing the sword he'd been using himself into Angel's hand and adjusting his grip on the crossbow. "Up above." Angel gestured with his head to the rooftops, keeping his own voice just as quiet. He wasn't sure just how good Connor's hearing was -- he knew it was better than most humans'. Assuming Connor was actually human, and he wasn't sure that was a safe thing to assume. "Justine disappeared near here -- he's been looking for her." Wes didn't respond to that, and Angel realized that casually mentioning the woman who'd betrayed Wes and slit his throat might not have been the best idea. "Good," Gunn said. "Maybe we'll find her and I can kick her ass." "Gunn," Wesley said, quietly reproving, but there was an undertone to his voice that Angel didn't like the sound of. There wasn't time to deal with it, though, because the trail of blood they'd been following wound its way into a gaping hole in the side of a ruined building. "Looks like the place," Gunn said, peering into the building with an expression that had its roots in some dark kind of joy. "We gonna wait for the stalker?" Angel shook his head and stepped into the black, his eyes scanning for signs of ambush. The blood smears dragged across the rough floor -- some of it cement, some broken boards -- and disappeared through a wide doorway on the other side of the large room. "Come on." Wes and Gunn shadowed him to the doorway, where he saw stone steps leading down into further blackness. The scent of blood was fainter now, but from below Angel could smell something less pleasant -- fetid, earthy, dank. "Stay close," he said, and started down the staircase. Muscles bunched in his thighs as he moved at half speed, all of his senses strained to their limits. There was nowhere to go but left at the bottom of the stairs. Angel gestured at Gunn to move out to one side, trying to keep Wesley behind and between them so that he'd have time to get off a shot if it was needed. The darkness was more complete down here, despite an eerie red glow, and he worried that the other two might not be able to see well enough, but there was nothing he could do about that now. They started to move in the general direction of the glow, cautiously, quietly, going further into the depths of the building. It wasn't completely quiet -- in addition to the sounds of Wes and Gunn breathing, Angel could hear a dull throbbing sound, like a giant's heartbeat. "I hear something," he whispered. "What?" Gunn whispered back. He listened again. It was such a low sound that it was almost like he was feeling it in his gut, rather than hearing it. It was a bass rumble, a trembling echo. "I don't know. Something big." "Don't like the sound of that," Gunn said. Angel tightened his hand on the sword's hilt. "I don't like it, either." He frowned but kept moving -- something wasn't right, he didn't know what it was, and standing still wasn't going to get them anywhere. Literally. They went around one corner and then another, the glow and the noise leading him, and then Angel caught sight of the demon at about the same time the scent of the blood trail grew considerably stronger. "Hang on," he said to Gunn and Wesley very quietly, and whipped around the corner and, with all his strength, brought the sword blade through the unmoving demon's neck, nearly severing its head. The creature never flinched, and the wound was almost bloodless. Angel looked down and there was a congealing pool of blood on the floor, strangely lit by the red glow that he still hadn't identified. What with all the blood the demon had lost during the first fight and then as it dragged itself back here to its lair, and the puddle around it... He looked quickly to see if there were any more of the things, but the room was mostly empty except for a fissure in the stone floor, from which the red glow and the weird pulsing noise both seemed to be emanating. There wasn't anywhere for something as big as one of these demons to hide. "Good job killing the already-dead-thing, Angel," Gunn said, with almost a snicker. "Hey," he protested mildly, looking back at the demon. "I didn't know it was already dead. What if it hadn't been?" "No, you did the right thing," Wesley said, crossing the room hesitantly to peer down into the fissure. "They've been doing some sort of magic," he said. "Working on a ritual. But they should have had -- " There was a slight whimper. Angel moved past Wes and over into the corner where, behind some boxes, were the bodies of two women. One was obviously dead -- he could tell by how still she was, utterly unmoving. The other whimpered again, her head bowed low, hair hanging over her face. Her leg was broken in several places and the way she was breathing made him think she might have a few broken ribs, too. "It's okay," Angel told her, not stepping any closer because he wasn't sure how she'd react. Wesley came over and squatted down next to her, setting the crossbow to one side. "It's all right. We're going to get you out of..." His hand, which had reached out to brush her hair out of her face, froze, and Angel could tell something was wrong. Wes cleared his throat and continued, his voice rough. "We're going to get you out of here." He stood up and backed away from her, and as she lifted her face for the first time Angel saw what Wesley had already seen. It was Justine. "I don't want your help," she said. "You may not want it, but you most certainly need it," Wesley said, without looking at her, and then said to the room in general, "The leg's going to need to be splinted before we can move her." "I'll do it," Connor stood in the doorway, the red glow cast by the fissure in the center of the room staining his face like blood. He had a small axe gripped in his hand, and Angel wondered idly where he'd put it if he'd used Angel's sword in the earlier fight. "There are some scraps of wood over there that might work," Wesley told him, gesturing toward a corner of the room. "I've got it." Connor said. He went and picked up a couple of pieces, and then moved past Wes to kneel on the floor next to Justine. "What about her?" he asked, nodding his head at the other woman. "She's dead," Angel said. He went over to the fissure and looked down. "Shouldn't we do something about this?" "Yes," Wesley said. "But I won't be able to without doing some research first. And unfortunately all of the books are back at the office. Gunn, if I gave you a list, perhaps you could go back and retrieve some things for us? I'm not sure we should leave this unattended..." Gunn nodded. "Yeah, just tell me what you need and I'll take care of it." "And drop Connor and his friend off at the nearest hospital?" It didn't escape Angel's notice that Wes not only didn't want to say Justine's name, but that since he'd realized who she was, he hadn't looked at her. "I don't need a hospital," Justine said. "No, of course not," Wesley agreed, still without turning in her direction. "Better to let your broken leg fester until it rots off than admit you need to seek medical attention." Justine's chin set defiantly, but she grimaced as Connor yanked the strips of fabric he'd ripped from the dead woman's shirt tight around her leg. "It's none of your business," she said. Wesley sighed, and Angel thought he sounded defeated. "No, it's not. It's your decision. If you don't want to go to the emergency room, then by all means feel free to doctor yourself." "We're going," Connor said, and got to his feet with Justine in his arms like she was no heavier than a child. "Will you give us a ride?" he asked Gunn. "Yeah. Come on." They headed back to the doorway, and then Gunn hesitated. "You two gonna be okay here?" "Yes. Ring us when you get to L.A., and I'll tell you what I need you to bring back." Wesley waited, the crossbow still in his hands, while the three of them left, and then sighed heavily and bent to set it down on the floor. Angel thought he could see Wes' hands shaking. Listening carefully one more time and hearing the footsteps fading as they crossed the basement, Angel stepped closer to Wes and gestured at the glowing red fissure. "Any ideas what to expect with this thing?" Wesley shook his head. "My guess is that the demons needed two sacrifices -- *living* sacrifices -- for whatever they were trying to accomplish, and that when this woman died, they went out in search of a replacement. But I can't know for sure. It's likely that without the sacrifice the spell will resolve itself within a certain amount of time. Either way, it seems clear that whatever they were attempting wasn't completed, so I doubt we have much to worry about." "Well... good." That was a relief, anyway. Although Angel could tell he'd stopped bleeding, his side ached -- he thought he probably had some cracked ribs, himself. He took another step closer to Wesley, who was looking at the floor. "You okay?" "What?" Wes glanced up and met his eyes. "Oh. Sorry. Yes, I'm fine." "You sure?" "Well, it was... rather a surprise. I mean, I knew there was the possibility that we were going to find her, after what you said, but..." Wesley grinned ruefully. "I can't say I would have been sorry if I'd never laid eyes on her again, considering." Angel nodded. "I get that." Wesley seemed to shake himself off at that, and turned his attention to Angel. "What about you? Are you all right? Let me look at your side." "Nah, I'm fine," Angel said, but stood still as Wesley unbuttoned the front of his torn shirt and ran warm hands across his ribcage. "I didn't just mean physically," Wes said. "It was obviously a shock for you as well, seeing Connor like that." He didn't want to think about it. "Yeah. Well." He cleared his throat. "So how's it look?" "The bleeding's stopped," Wesley reported. "If you can refrain from doing anything stupid for the next hour or so, I'd imagine it will have healed over sufficiently." "A whole hour?" The feel of Wes' hands on him made him shiver, and not in a bad way. "Does it hurt?" "What? Oh." He considered the question for a few seconds and then Wesley poked a little harder and he hissed. "Um, no?" "Liar. Do you think they're broken, or just cracked?" Angel clenched his jaw as Wesley's fingers probed the most painful spot. "Don't know," he said tightly. "Either way, they'll heal. One of the benefits of being a vampire." "One of many, or so I've been told." Angel couldn't resist pulling Wesley in for a kiss, even though the human's arm was trapped awkwardly between them. "Christ, you smell good. If I didn't know better I'd wonder if you'd been rolling around in blood." "Thank you for *that* charming image," Wes said, pulling back. "In case you failed to notice, I have. Demon blood, but blood all the same. I'm not sure how to feel about the fact that you seem to find it so arousing." He grinned and nuzzled Wes' throat. "Vampire, remember?" "Speaking of which, I don't suppose you thought to bring any blood?" "I don't usually carry it around in my back pocket." Wesley's hand slipped around and patted Angel's ass like he was checking. "No, you don't seem to be carrying," he agreed. "You're just not looking in the right place." Angel moved back, freeing Wesley's other arm, and then pressed himself forward again so that their bodies were touching. "See?" "Ah yes. How silly of me." Wesley moved closer to meet him. "I wouldn't want to think you'd gone soft in your advanced age." Before Angel could respond, there was a crackle like electricity and a brilliant flash of light from the fissure. Automatically he flung himself in front of Wes, not having any idea what was going to happen but damned sure whatever it was wasn't going to touch Wesley. The basement was suddenly much, much darker. "What the hell was that?" he asked. "Well, from the looks of things, the spell's resolved itself. It might have been time-related." Angel felt Wes' fingers brush against his arm and realized that Wesley couldn't see now that the glowing light from the fissure was gone. He grabbed for Wes' hand and held it. "I'm right here," he said needlessly. "You think it's done, then? I mean, it's not going to come back or anything?" "No, I don't think the chances of that are very likely. I'd say we're in the clear. Figuratively." "Okay, then let's get out of here." Wesley nodded. Trust Wes to have a keen grasp on what a vampire could see in the dark. "I've left the crossbow somewhere over there," he said, pointing. "Right." Angel let go of Wesley and went over to pick up the crossbow, then to the body of the demon where he retrieved his sword. With the crossbow tucked under one arm, he went back to Wes and took his hand again, leading him through the basement back toward the stairs. "Should we phone Gunn and let him know that things here are taken care of? He might not have gotten far -- he could come back for us." "Get out of the basement first, then call?"Angel suggested, guiding Wesley carefully. "Because I don't know about you, but outside is seeming pretty good right now." Wes nodded, most of his concentration on walking when he couldn't see where he was going. His hand tightened on Angel's briefly in a way that made Angel smile. The staircase was a bit tricky, but they managed it, and once they stepped out into the alleyway, the glow from a nearby streetlight was enough so that Wesley could see again. "All right," Wes said, taking the crossbow back from Angel and reaching for his phone. "Let me give Gunn a quick ring and see where he is, and we'll..." There was a clatter of plastic on pavement as Wesley's flashlight slipped from his pocket and hit the ground. Angel looked at it and then at Wes. "If you had the flashlight, why didn't you use it?" "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you I'd forgotten about it?" "Nope." Wesley looked at him steadily. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to touch you." "You don't need an excuse," Angel told him. "You want to touch me, go right ahead." "Yes, in private, behind closed doors." Wesley nodded like their conversation was something they'd already agreed on. "Elsewhere it's a different story, isn't it." "Not because of me," Angel said, wondering where the hell this was coming from. It wasn't like they hadn't just been, for all intents and purposes, behind closed doors. There hadn't been anyone -- at least, not anyone alive, and he made a mental note to make another one of his anonymous phone calls to the local police -- in that basement to see them. "I'm not blaming you." Now Wes didn't want to meet his eyes, and Angel didn't like the way that boded. "What are you saying? You don't want to... be with me?" He felt numb. Wesley immediately moved forward and pressed his body to Angel's, so unexpectedly that Angel was pushed backward against the wall of the building. "No, no, that's not what I'm saying." He kissed Angel fiercely, like he was trying to drive the point home. "Then what?" "I - " Wes shook his head. "I'm not sure. I know that I want to be with you, if it helps to hear it." "Yeah." He leaned forward, intent on more kissing, when Wesley's phone rang. "Blast," Wesley cursed, and answered it. "Yes?" He widened his eyes slightly at Angel. "Yes, we're fine... No, as it turns out the spell shut itself down, so we're in the clear." Angel leaned his sword against the wall and took the crossbow from Wes' hand, putting it on the ground next to the sword. He let his hands roam over Wes' body, just enjoying the way Wesley moved into his touch. "If you're not too tired, yes," Wesley was saying into the phone. "Yes, we can meet you back where -- " "No," Angel said. Wesley said, "Hang on," to Gunn and took the phone away from his ear, muffling the mouthpiece with his hand. "No, what?" he asked. "No, I don't want him to come back and pick us up. Not tonight." His hands moved over Wes' body again in illustration. "All right." Wes put the phone back to his ear. "No, we're going to find a place to stay. We'll either rent a car or have you come back in the morning to pick us up. We're sure. You and Fred get some sleep and we'll see you tomorrow." He hit the buttons that turned the phone off and pressed himself against Angel's body more firmly. "You don't want to go look for Connor?" he asked. Angel kissed him teasingly before answering. "No. Wasn't even trying to find him and I did. I can find him again." "*We* can," Wesley said. "You're sure?" His hand slid down the front of Angel's slacks and squeezed firmly. "I'm sure. There's something else I want to do right now." Continued in Part 2
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