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"Where is she?" Angel blinked tiredly -- he must have been sleeping, hadn't even heard Gunn get up. He'd spent at least an hour just holding Wes, who'd been exhausted but had fought sleep like crazy only to lose and slip into a restless doze. Then Angel had heard Gunn moving around in his bedroom -- he'd eased out from under Wes and gone to check, but Gunn had still been asleep. As a result, when Gunn came out and woke Angel, he and Wes were sleeping on either side of the lumpy couch. All innocent. He realized Gunn had asked him a question. "What?" "Where's Fred?" Angel stood up slowly, trying not to jostle the couch in the hopes that Wes might be able to get some more sleep. "I took her back to the hotel. Wes thought... well, he thought it would be better for you. For her not to be here." Something around Gunn's eyes, a bleakness, reminded Angel of way back when then other man had had to kill his sister. "I'll have to call her folks," Gunn said. The small gauze bandage on his scalp looked startlingly white in contrast to his skin. "What do we do about...?" "Yeah." Angel'd thought about this already. "I know some people. Cops. They'll take her to the -- " He didn't want to say 'morgue,' so instead he finished, "They'll take care of her, until you decide what you want to do." "I've gotta call her folks," Gunn said again, like he'd already forgotten saying it the first time, or maybe like he was trying to convince himself. "How the hell am I supposed to tell them that she's dead? How am I supposed to do that?" Angel didn't know what to say. "I'm so sorry," Wesley said, and they both turned to look at him as he sat up, bleary-eyed, reaching for his glasses. "Not your fault," Gunn said. Wesley shook his head. "Actually, that's not entirely true." Gunn took a half-step back, tilted his own head to one side like he was trying to see something that wasn't quite there, like he was waiting for an apparition to materialize. "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking," Wes said, resignedly, "about the vision that I had last night, just before... before Fred was killed." Unable to let this happen without at least making an effort to explain, Angel interrupted. "We tried to call. And we got here as soon as we could, it was just..." "Too late," Wesley finished, shooting Angel a look that might have been disgust, a look that made his stomach hurt. "I didn't get here in time, and I wasn't able to warn you. I... Gunn, I take full responsibility for what happened. It was my fault." Blinking at the way Wesley had just removed him from both the conversation and the situation in one swoop, Angel stood and waited to see what would happen. Gunn shook his head. "You weren't the one that killed her -- the vamps did that. It wasn't your fault." "But I was the one who -- " "It *wasn't* your fault," Gunn repeated. "And if you keep saying it was, I'm gonna have to kick your sorry ass." The threat sounded pretty empty to Angel. It was obvious that Wes didn't believe for a second that it wasn't his fault, but he just nodded. "What happens now?" he asked quietly, giving up his own power in the situation as easily as he'd taken away Angel's a minute before. Gunn sighed. "Angel makes a phone call, I guess. And then I do. I just..." He shifted on his feet, like he didn't know what to do with himself. "I want to kill the bastards that killed her, you know? A little good, old fashioned revenge. But I already did. Doesn't feel like it was enough, though." "We should be there, when they..." Angel didn't figure he needed to finish. "I'll call on the way over. I'll make sure they know that you're the one to make any decisions that need to be made." "Yeah. Or her folks." Gunn looked down at himself, still wearing the clothes he'd been in the night before. They didn't have a heck of a lot of blood on them. Angel moved closer, hesitantly. He and Gunn had never been the types to do more than whack each other on the shoulder a couple of times -- a manly, casual pseudo-embrace that didn't allow for the touching of body parts other than arms and upper chest. And it was obvious that Gunn wasn't looking for comfort. Still, Angel reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry," he said. Gunn nodded, but didn't look up. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Me too." They waited for Gunn to take a shower, and then the three of them headed back to the Hyperion, with Angel crouched in the back seat under a blanket. From his sheltered position he managed to call the guy he knew at the police station, asking him to send a car to pick up Fred's body. The guy knew enough not to ask any questions, and once he'd figured out that they were talking about a friend of Angel's his voice went down an octave. He said someone would be by in about an hour, expressed his sympathy, and waited patiently for Angel to hang up the phone first. Angel was glad that the drive to the hotel wasn't a long one, because Wes' silence was getting on his nerves before they were halfway there. He'd gotten over the feeling -- well, *mostly* gotten over it -- that Wes was trying to punish him, and he wasn't unaware of the irony that he wanted Wes to talk about it when he himself was a pretty big fan of silence. But he didn't like doubting how well he and Wes knew each other. They managed to get up to Fred's room -- they all seemed to want to see her again -- without exchanging more than a few words. Wes stood next to the bed, looking down at Fred's pale face, his own expression set in granite. He seemed ready to stand there all day. Gunn sat on the side of the bed, holding Fred's hand between his own even though Angel knew it had to be cold and stiff by now. He wandered over to the far wall and ran his fingers over the numbers and symbols scribbled hastily there. He hadn't realized that Fred had gone back to writing on the walls; he wondered when that had happened. Gunn must have known. Maybe Angel didn't know anyone as well as he thought he did. He looked at Fred's face one last time, a long look, said, "I'm just... gonna..." and fled into the hallway. He hadn't been out there for very long when Wesley came out, closing the door behind himself. "I thought Charles might like a few minutes alone with her," Wes said quietly. Angel thought he could read what was there on Wes' face. "I know why you're so upset," he said. "And why is that?" "You still had feelings for her." Wes looked at him, puzzled. "I beg your pardon?" "That's pretty much the last thing I want you begging me for," Angel said. "You're upset that Fred died because it means there won't be any second chances for the two of you." "You think I wanted to have a relationship with Fred?" "I know you did," Angel said flatly. "Just because a lot of stuff happened that night at the ballet, doesn't mean I don't know what went on." "Angel, that was nearly nine months ago. Do you seriously believe that I've been pining away for Fred all this time?" Angel narrowed his eyes. "I think part of you has, yeah." "And what about me?" Wes asked, his voice low and controlled. "Am I supposed to be assuming that it's really Cordelia you've been wanting, while you've been fucking me?" Angel was startled. "That's different." And it was. He'd loved Cordy, sure, but... well, he'd finally realized that he hadn't been *in* love with her. "How is it different, exactly?" "Because, well... Cordy's gone. I've known for a long time that she wasn't coming back." "Whereas Fred's been here, so clearly I was just biding my time." Angel could tell from Wesley's expression that he'd been caught being incredibly stupid. "Go away," Wes said. "What?" Wesley made an impatient gesture down the hallway. His voice was deadly quiet. "I said go. If that's honestly what you think of me, that I'd be with you, that I'd... *use* you, somehow, to fill a void that Fred's choosing to be with Gunn left, then I've nothing more to say to you." Angel blinked. Okay, this really wasn't where he'd seen this conversation going, not that he'd had a lot of time to think about it in advance. "But I -- " "*Go.*" The look on Wes' face made it clear that he wasn't messing around. "Wes... I didn't mean to... I mean, can't we talk about this?" Shit. *Shit.* He should have just kept his mouth shut. Wesley shook his head. "No. Not right now, at any rate. I need... some time to think." Backing away slowly, Angel nodded, hoped he was managing to look reasonable because God knew it felt like his fucking heart was breaking. "Okay. I'm... I'll be in my room. When -- if you want to talk. And... Wes?" There wasn't an answer, just a steady look. "I'm sorry," Angel said, and left. Angel was hungry, but he didn't want to feed. He was angry, but he didn't want to break things. He felt broken enough already. Smashing up other stuff wouldn't help. He wasn't sure what had happened. He couldn't understand how everything had gone so wrong, so fast. And poor Fred; she was getting lost in the shuffle because at this moment the only thing Angel could care about was Wesley, and the fact that for all he knew he'd just lost him, for good. And probably because of his own stupidity. But... hadn't Wes wanted Fred? For what felt like a long time, Angel stood in the middle of his bedroom, letting the silence seep into him. After a while, he realized that he stunk of death. He thought it was from the demons' blood, some of which was still on him. He should have changed last night when he'd brought Fred back to the hotel, but at the time he hadn't been able to think about that. Well. Not like he had anything else to do -- might as well take care of it now. Moving slowly, feeling the twinge of sore ribs as he took off his shirt, Angel went into the bathroom and started the shower running. Water as hot as he could stand it. He stripped, stepped in, and let it beat down on him, cleaning off the filth and stink of the night before. "Angel." Wes' voice, low beneath the sound of the running water. He'd been so distracted he hadn't even heard Wesley come in. Angel closed his eyes, and waited for whatever Wes was going to say. Soft sounds of clothes being shed. The shower curtain rustled, and then Wesley's body brushed against his own. "I thought... you needed some time," Angel said, trying again to be reasonable, fighting against the hope that rose in his chest when he felt Wes' arms wrap around him. He kept his eyes closed. "It's been five minutes," Wesley said. "Okay. I guess I was picturing it being longer. Not that I'm complaining..." Wes' lips touched his, and he couldn't help but lean forward eagerly. "Felt like a lifetime to me," Wesley said. "You're... do you think you were right?" Angel's mouth was touching Wes' as he spoke. "About us not knowing each other?" "No," Wes said immediately. "I -- Angel, look at me." Angel opened his eyes inches from Wesley's blue ones. "I know I can't understand what you're going through," he said, brokenly. "I want to." Wes kissed him. "I know," he said. "I know you want to, and that's... well, it means a great deal to me." "I -- you know that I care about you, Wes. I -- " "Shh," Wes said, and Angel felt Wes' hands urging him to turn around. Wes' arms wrapping around him, holding him, hands stroking across Angel's chest and belly. Wes' lips against his shoulder. "Shh. It's all right." But Angel didn't want Wesley telling him it was all right, because last night *he'd* been the one trying to say that and Wes had told him that it wasn't. Fred was gone, and Connor was gone, and Cordelia was gone. For all he knew, Wes was next. Wesley's hands were still stroking over his skin, soothingly. Angel wasn't sure he wanted to be soothed. "Don't," he said. Wes' hands stilled, but didn't go away. "Don't what?" he asked. "Don't try to make me feel better," Angel said, his voice harsher than he'd meant it to be. "No, of course not," Wesley said, his hands withdrawing now, one completely, the other resting at Angel's waist. His voice was calm. "Because you should suffer at all times, isn't that right." Angel wasn't angry, or at least he tried to tell himself that. They were back into not-understanding-each-other territory now, and it wasn't a place he wanted to be. "Have you forgotten about your happiness no longer being an issue?" Wesley continued, his hand still there on Angel's skin, like an anchor in a sea of running water and despair. "Or is just that you prefer your life this way? Because I... care about you, Angel. And I'm not content to sit back and watch you torture yourself." "Don't do this," Angel said. "Don't what? Don't care about you?" Wesley turned him back around now, facing him. Wes' eyes flashed with determination, and his hair was scattered with fine diamond-droplets of water. "Don't call you on it when you're being unreasonable? Tell me what it is that I'm not supposed to do!" With a harsh groan of defeat, Angel grabbed onto Wes and shoved him up against the slick tile wall. He could hear as well as feel Wesley's gasp at the suddenness of the embrace, could feel Wes' half-hard cock against his thigh. "Don't," he said, into Wes' shoulder, "make me love you more." Then Wesley's arms were around him again, tightly this time, holding him up. "It's all right," Wes said, and this time Angel almost believed him. "I'm here, it's all right." There were so many things that Angel could have said in response to that, but he refused to say any of them, just gripped onto Wes like he might disappear any second. He realized that he was probably holding on too tightly, and made an effort to loosen his grip. "You're not going to break me," Wes said. Angel still couldn't speak. "Angel?" Wesley moved as if to pull back, and Angel let him. Wes' hands were on Angel's face now, forcing him to meet his eyes. "I love you too." Speechless for a whole different reason now, Angel shook his head, then managed to choke out, "Don't. You don't have to -- " "You," Wesley interrupted him, "are unbearably stubborn. Do you honestly believe I'd tell you that if I didn't mean it?" Something close to a sob escaped him, and then Angel was kissing Wes. Kissing him like he might never get the chance again, and Wes was kissing him back, just as frantically, like he wanted Angel just as much as Angel wanted him. "Please," Angel said, with his mouth on Wes'. He wasn't sure who he was saying it to. "God, *please*..." "Shh," Wes said. "Shh, it's all right." His hands were soothing again, but this time it felt right. Now Angel wanted to be comforted. He wanted Wes to touch him and make him feel better, to drive away some of the loneliness. Wes reached around him and turned off the water, then slid the shower curtain open and reached for a towel. He wrapped it around Angel, patting gently, trying to dry him off. "Come on," he said, kissing Angel again with a shower-water-slick mouth. "Come with me." There was nothing Angel wanted to do more. He followed Wes -- still naked and covered with water droplets than ran down over his skin like rain down a windowpane -- into the bedroom, and let himself be pushed down onto the bed. Greedily, Angel's hands gripped onto Wes, trying to pull him down too. Wesley just said, "Shh. Let me." "But I -- " Wes gave him a stern look. "Angel. Would you bloody well shut up and just lie there?" Under other circumstances, that tone would definitely drawn a grin from him, but at that moment Angel just wanted Wes and didn't care how he got him. The towel felt rough now, as Wesley used it to dry Angel off. He started with Angel's hair, moved down across his chest, and then skipped over his groin in favor of drying Angel's legs. It wasn't until Angel was almost completely dry that Wesley climbed onto the bed and started to kiss him. Not just on the mouth, either. He spent a long time kissing Angel's throat until Angel moaned softly, and then brought his mouth to Angel's chest. One nipple and then the other, using his fingers to pinch whichever one his mouth was neglecting. Angel's hips were moving restlessly, but he was also doing his best to do what Wes had instructed -- to lie there quietly. The quiet part got harder as Angel did, though. When Wes brought his mouth down to Angel's cock, it was impossible to stay quiet. Wes took his time, his tongue tracing Angel's length repeatedly until Angel was writhing, uncontrollable. His hands were in Wes' hair. "*Fuck,*" Angel said finally, thrusting upward. Helpless. "Wes, *please.*" Wesley smiled and reached for the lube. He squeezed some out onto his fingers and quickly spread it over Angel's cock, then lay down on the bed beside him, pulling Angel to face him as he did. "Now," Wes suggested, and the word had barely left his lips before Angel was up and over him, sliding into that incomparable human heat that wrenched a groan from him. He was already too close, too desperate, to take his time. Wes was willing and eager underneath him, jerking his hips upward to meet Angel's thrusts. His hands twisted in the small of Angel's back, urging him to continue. Running his tongue across the skin of Wes' throat, Angel shuddered, wracked with temptation. Shouldn't take chances like this, not when he was hungry, not when... "Wes," he whimpered, and came so hard that everything went away. Angel didn't move until Wes shifted under him, and even then it was only to adjust his own weight. His face was buried in the curve of Wes' shoulder. Wes' pulse beat against his lower lip, and he couldn't stop trembling. "Angel?" Wes sounded worried. He lifted his head and kissed Wes, hard. Hunger was a deep gnawing pain in his gut -- he hadn't even realized the extent of it until just that second. Wes kissed him back, gentling the contact carefully, keeping Angel sane. "When was the last time you fed? Did you have anything last night -- this morning -- when you came back here?" Angel shook his head. He pulled out of Wes and moved to sit at the end of the bed, trying to put a little distance between them. Any of the excuses he could have given, no matter how true, were going to sound stupid, so he tried to answer the first question instead. "Um... yesterday morning?" "Well, no wonder," Wes said exasperatedly, getting up and heading into the kitchen without bothering to put on any clothes. Feeling guilty, but also just damned tired, Angel sat and watched as Wes got out some blood and heated it up, then brought the mug back to the bed and pressed it into Angel's hands. "Drink that. And remember to take better care of yourself in the future." He'd never gotten totally comfortable with feeding in front of people, not even Wes and Cordy, but Angel forced himself to swallow the blood down quickly as Wes stood there and watched. As soon as it flowed down and settled in his stomach, he felt better. "More?" Wesley asked. Angel nodded, but got up to get it himself. "Thanks. I guess I didn't realize..." Wes followed him. "Under the circumstances it's no surprise that you were distracted." "Yeah." Angel put a second mug full of blood into the microwave and pushed the buttons, then stared at it bleakly as it went around and around on the little turntable. Slipping an arm around Angel's waist, Wes nuzzled the back of his shoulder where his tattoo was, and then just stood there, waiting with him. Angel could feel his warm breath with each exhale. "Where's Gunn?" Angel asked. "The people from the coroner's office arrived. He went with them, and he'll phone us when he's done with the paperwork. I offered to go with him, but he said... he thought it was something he ought to do alone." Angel brushed his thumb over the back of Wes' hand. "You think he's gonna be okay?" "Yes," Wes said. "He will. We all will." Angel closed his eyes and listened to Wesley's breathing. It was slow and steady. Wes' lips were gentle on his shoulder blade. "Did you sleep at all last night?" The microwave beeped and stopped, the light going out, but Angel didn't reach for the door handle. He was too comfortable where he was, with Wes touching him. "Um... yeah, some." Not much, that was for sure. Wes' hand patted his hip comfortingly, and then he stepped around Angel to open the microwave. "Go sit down. Your body's still trying to heal; you should let it." He took the mug out and led Angel back to the bed. "Sit down," he repeated. Angel sat. "You were right," he said quietly, as Angel drank. "Neither of us is alone in this. I think it's best we try to accept that and stop being so stubborn. *Both* of us." Angel set the already-empty mug down on the floor and wiped his mouth self-consciously. "You mean we're stuck with each other, so might as well get used to the idea." "No," Wesley said, clearly exasperated with this train of thought. "I mean we care for... we *love* each other, and therefore we're a team. Regardless of the visions, or your possible shanshu, or the Powers That Be." Angel met Wes' eyes. "Yeah?" Sitting down next to him, Wes rested the back of his hand on Angel's thigh, palm up. "Yes. Don't you agree?" Angel reached out a finger and traced the lines on Wes' palm, watching as Wes' fingers twitched at the delicate touch. "I don't..." he hesitated, and then went on, "I don't, you know... feel like I deserve this." "That's because you're an idiot," Wes said firmly, with a little smile. He leaned in and kissed Angel, not seeming to care if he tasted like blood, and then looked at him with a very serious expression. "This has to stop, Angel. I understand that there are things you need to do, but you can't continue to do them if you're set on making yourself miserable. *That's* what you don't deserve." He gave Wes his best attempt at a smile. "Stubborn, huh?" "Unbearably." Wesley raised his eyebrows slightly, like he was trying to make a point. "But not alone." "Right," Angel said, slowly, trying to convince himself that it was true. "Not alone." And then he kissed Wesley with something like gratitude. It felt like love. Angel couldn't believe that he was at the airport again. Of course, this time it was to send Gunn off to Texas, with Fred's body in the cargo hold of the plane. They were all talking around it, like if they didn't say the words out loud, it wouldn't be true. "You're sure you've everything you need?" Wesley asked Gunn for what had to be the fifth time. Gunn rolled his eyes slightly, and something about the motion brought what looked like peace to his face, as if the normality of annoyance made him feel better. "*Yes,*" he said, also for the fifth time. "And if it turns out I don't, I'll call you and have you send it." Wes looked guilty, his gaze dropping to the flat nubby carpet under their feet. They were standing over near the wall, next to a row of chairs that were bolted to the floor, but none of them had made any attempt to sit down. "I'm sorry," he said. "I suppose I don't know what to say." Without thinking, Angel reached out and touched Wes' hand, hoping to comfort him. And without thinking, Wes' fingers closed around his... for a few seconds. Then, as if realizing what they'd done, and in front of whom, Wesley let go and straightened up. Gunn was watching the two of them with a funny expression. "So that's how it is." Angel glanced at Wes apologetically, then looked at Gunn again. "Yeah. Well..." Wesley tried. "You see..." "Look, it's cool," Gunn said. "I knew something was going on, I just couldn't figure out what it was." "We wanted to tell you," Wes said, looking like he wanted to move closer to Gunn but was holding himself back by sheer force of will. "We... just weren't sure how -- " "What about the curse?" Gunn interrupted. The tension in his shoulders was obvious, and he'd rocked back onto his heels. "That whole 'getting a happy will turn you into Angelus' thing?" Angel nodded and tried to look sheepish. It wasn't hard. "Um, right. Well, it turns out that's not really an issue anymore." "Because you're still in love with that Buffy girl?" "No," Wesley cut in. Angel couldn't help but wonder if it was because he didn't want to get into the details. Or maybe he was afraid of hearing that Angel really *was* still in love with Buffy. "Because when it happened the last time -- when Angel lost the soul -- the spell to return it was done differently. He's not going to lose it again, no matter what the circumstances. It's permanent." Gunn didn't look convinced. "You sure?" "Absolutely." Wes had a talent for looking someone right in the eye that made it easy to believe that he knew what he was talking about. Wes and Gunn stood, eyes locked, for a few very long seconds, and then Gunn relaxed a little bit and nodded. "Okay." He glanced down at the handful of papers he was holding. "That's what Fred wouldn't tell me, huh." "Probably," Wes admitted softly. "She... told us that she knew, that night in the restaurant. Did she...?" "Say anything?" Gunn shook his head. "I guessed there was something she wasn't telling me. She was all nervous, you know, trying to distract me? But she wouldn't say what it was." Wes took a step closer to Gunn and lay a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. We should have told you sooner. There's no excuse." "It's cool," Gunn repeated, standing there without moving, letting Wesley touch him. He glanced at Angel too, including him in the discussion. "I mean, I should have figured, you know? Not like you two haven't been all touchy-feely for a while now." Angel blinked. He'd thought they were being pretty subtle. "Yes, well," Wesley said, and Angel could see the slight flush on his skin. "How do you... that is, are you..." Gunn reached out with his other hand and punched Wes' shoulder, very lightly. "Long as there aren't gonna be any surprise visits from Angelus, I'm fine with it," he said. His expression clouded. "Wish she woulda told me, though." "She wasn't sure how you'd react," Wes explained quietly, putting his hands in his pockets like he was trying to look smaller. "She didn't want to give anything away until we were ready." He glanced at Angel, his eyes dark and troubled. A voice over the loudspeaker announced the boarding of Gunn's flight just then, and Gunn bent down, shoving some of the papers in his hand into the carry-on bag that had been sitting at his feet. When he stood back up, his jaw had that same set to it that Angel remembered from the night Alonna had died. "I'll call," Gunn said. "Do that," Wesley urged, his voice still not sounding quite normal. "When you arrive safely, and... if you need anything..." Gunn nodded. "Thanks." The three of them walked together toward the gate, and Angel and Wes stood off to one side as Gunn went through the line, showed his boarding pass to the flight attendant, and then finally turned to go. It was Angel he spoke to. "Take care of him," he said, nodding at Wesley. "I will." Wesley stepped in closer, his side pressed to Angel's as they watched Gunn walk off down the corridor. Angel waited until they were back in the SUV, and then prevented Wes from starting the car with one hand over his. "You okay?" The breath Wes took was shaky. "Yes. I hadn't... well. I hadn't anticipated that, not on top of..." He looked at Angel helplessly, that same dark-eyed look that had made Angel want to kiss him right there in the terminal, in front of Gunn and anyone else who happened to be looking. This time there wasn't any reason not to. Angel drew Wes close -- as close as he could in the confines of the front seat -- and kissed him, soft and open-mouthed and full of what he hoped might be comfort. "It's gonna be okay," he said, not unaware that they'd been spending an awful lot of time lately repeating those words to each other. "I suppose I keep hoping that things will go back to normal," Wes said, rubbing his cheek against Angel's, one warm hand at the nape of Angel's neck. "It's a bit difficult to remember that there isn't any such thing." "Not for us," Angel agreed, and kissed Wes again. "Spend the night with me?" "Yes," Wesley said. "If nothing else, it can be said that I learn from my mistakes." He pressed his lips to Angel's one last time, and then smiled a little bit and started the car. "Nah, that was when you should have let *me* spend the night with *you,*" Angel reminded him as the SUV backed out of the parking space and into the lot. "This is different." "The way masturbation doesn't count as sex?" Wes asked. He glanced in the rearview mirror and then adjusted it slightly. "Exactly." The rest of the ride back to the hotel was almost comfortable, despite the sadness that lingered between them. Angel had lost too many people -- even just since he'd come to L.A. -- for one more loss to break him. Fred's death was painful, and he knew from previous experience that it would hurt for a long time, but eventually... it would get better. It wouldn't go away, but it would get better. They went through the front doors of the Hyperion and immediately a familiar scent washed over Angel. He froze, only dimly aware of Wes bumping into his back. "Angel? What -- " "Shh," Angel said, motioning with his hand. "He's here." "Who?" Wesley whispered. Connor stepped around the corner. "Hi, Dad." Angel moved to the side half a foot or so, keeping himself between Connor and Wes, just in case. "What are you doing here?" "I needed to see you. Talk to you." Connor's hair was longer than he remembered it, but neater at the same time. He couldn't remember what Connor had looked like the night before. "Okay." Angel glanced back over his shoulder at Wes, hoping that it'd be clear that he wanted Wes to be cautious. He started down the steps, watching Connor the whole time. "I'm... surprised," he told his son. "To see you here. Especially after the whole, you know... hating me thing." Connor's lip was arched in a subtle sneer, but he looked uncertain. More like that was the face he was used to wearing than the one that reflected what he really felt. "Yeah. Well... I..." His shoulders slumped suddenly, turning him into a boy and making Angel's heart ache for him. "Come and sit down," he suggested, pointing to the couch and stepping in that direction himself, still making sure that he was in front of Wes. "I don't want to sit down," Connor said, but came a couple of tentative steps closer anyway. "Are you all right?" Wesley asked, his voice impossibly gentle, impossibly perfect. Connor gave a curt nod of his head. "I -- Justine was mad at me." Wes paused briefly, but when he spoke again he sounded just as calm as he had before. "Why?' "Because I wanted to come back." Connor still looked sullen. "Because I needed to find out..." Angel forced himself to take a step backward, giving Connor more space if he needed it. "Needed to find out what?" "About you," Connor said. "About... whether it's true. That you're good." "Might have been nice if you'd decided to find out *before* you sent me to the bottom of the ocean," Angel said, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping into his voice. He felt Wes step closer, felt Wes' hand on his arm. "Are you hungry?" Wes asked Connor. "I could get you something." A little light came on in Connor's eyes, and Angel couldn't quite suppress a smile at the thought that his boy was all boy. "I'm always hungry," Connor said. "I could order something," Wes said, moving toward the desk. "Pizza? Sandwiches?" "I like pizza," Connor said. "With meat." "All right." Wes offered Angel a little smile. "I'll just be over here then. You two should talk." Angel didn't know if he wanted Wes to go or stay -- God knew it was going to be hard enough either way. "So. Um... Justine was mad?" "Yeah." Connor stayed where he was, watching as Angel went over to the couch and sat down on the end, as far away from Connor as he could in case the boy wanted to come over and sit down too. "She didn't want me to come back." "But you did." "She's stubborn. She doesn't like to admit that she might be wrong about some things." Connor looked down at the floor. "She thinks all vampires are the same." Angel sat very still. He could hear Wes talking on the phone, very softly. "What do you think?" "Maybe... maybe you're different. Maybe not. That's why... I need to find out." "You want me to prove it to you." Angel sounded as frustrated as he felt. "I can't do that." "Because you really *are* evil." "No. Because that's not the kind of thing you can prove." He hesitated, then said, "I didn't kill Holtz." "I know." That surprised Angel. "How?" "Justine." Connor's voice was mild. "She has dreams sometimes. She talks in her sleep." Angel wondered what Connor had overheard, but he waited to see if there was more. "He told her to do it. I know that." There was a pause. "I wanted to be mad at her, but I couldn't be." Connor rocked his weight back onto one heel and crossed his arms. "So... what now?" Angel was aware of Wesley standing over behind the counter, finished with his phone call but not stepping back into the conversation. Connor shrugged. "I want to watch you." Angel frowned and stood up, since apparently Connor wasn't going to come over and sit down. "I'm not here for your entertainment. I don't know if I want you 'watching me.'" He wasn't even sure if this was true, but he wanted to make a point. Some kind of point, anyway. "That's not what I meant," Connor said defensively, and started to turn away. "Forget it." Crossing the space between them before he even realized he was going to move, Angel grabbed onto Connor's arm. "No." The expression on Connor's face made him release the boy just as quickly. "No. I don't want to forget it. I don't want you to take off before we can finish a conversation." "Why do you even want me here?" "What?" "Why don't you want me to go?" Connor asked, staying where he was, but watching Angel carefully, like he thought Angel might grab him again. Angel kept still. "Because you're my son." "But after what I did..." Connor muttered something under his breath, the words running together so quickly that Angel couldn't figure out what he'd heard. "What?" "You should hate me," Connor repeated, more audibly this time. "Why don't you hate me?" "Look, you were... confused." Angel struggled to explain. "I mean hey, not saying I had a good time under the ocean for three months while everyone else enjoyed their summer vacation, but... things were confusing. I get that." "What happened?" Connor asked. "How did you -- ?" Okay, Angel really would have preferred not to go there, but at this point he'd do almost anything to continue the conversation. He glanced over at Wes, feeling like he needed permission or something to tell the story, and Wesley nodded at him. "Wesley did a spell. Well, two. One to find me, and the other one to get me out." Connor's eyes flickered over to Wes. "Do you do that a lot?" Wesley came around to the other side of the counter and then leaned back against it. "Magic? No. Actually, I haven't a real talent for it. But under the circumstances there weren't a lot of other options open to us." "Where is everyone?" Connor looked around the lobby. "Fred... was killed. By vampires. Gunn's gone to take her back to her family." The hint of tension in Wes' voice wasn't subtle, and Angel figured Connor could hear it as well as he could. Connor blinked and glanced down at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said, to both of them. "Thank you," Wesley said formally. "What about Cordelia?" Angel figured he'd better field that one himself. Actually, might have been better if he'd fielded the other question too, since god knew Wes was still blaming himself for what had happened with Fred. "She's gone," he said shortly. "Mystical thing. She's okay, she's just... not here anymore." "I thought it seemed quiet. I didn't remember it being like this." Connor seemed a little bit more relaxed now, even though the wary look never completely left his eyes. The silence stretched out. "Yes, well..." Wesley said. "A lot of things have changed." That sounded like a challenge to Angel, so he made a little gesture at Wes, a 'come here' that wasn't quite a request. Wesley looked at him steadily for a few seconds and then came, stopping next to Angel. "Connor, do you... I mean... you're not a kid anymore. You know about... you know." "No, what are you talking about?" Confused joined sullen on Connor's face, making him look even younger than he already did, and making Angel wish he hadn't started this part of the conversation. Well, *tried* to start it. Luckily, Connor seemed to catch on. "Oh. You mean sex." "Um... yeah." Connor lifted his eyebrows. "You know I've been living with Justine." Angel scratched his head. "Oh. Yeah. I guess she probably answered any questions you might have had..." "She showed me." "She -- *what?!*" Connor's voice was mild, as if he honestly had no idea that this might be an issue. "You know -- about sex. How to do it." Angel figured that between him and Wesley there was already plenty of tension in the room for all of them. "Justine. Showed you." "Yeah. That thing with..." Connor seemed to realize now that what he was sharing wasn't exactly being welcomed with open arms. "You know, between her legs. With my..." He made a gesture at his own crotch. "And my tongue." Wes seemed just as stunned by these revelations as Angel was, but he recovered more quickly. "Well, that's..." Or maybe not. "She said it was okay," Connor explained. "That she was taking medicine. So she wouldn't have a baby." And thank god for that, Angel thought. "Good. That's... good." "I liked it," Connor said. "It felt nice." Angel resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands. "Yeah, well, it's supposed to. So anyway, um..." He glanced at Wes again. "You know that it's not always a guy and a girl, right?" "With sex?" A tiny grin flittered at the corner of Connor's mouth. "Sure. When me and my -- um. Holtz -- " "Don't," Wes interrupted him, his voice rough with a horror that echoed what Angel was feeling. "I don't..." He shook his head, moving over and sitting down on the edge of the couch like the world had just dropped out from underneath him. He looked like he was going to be sick. Connor continued with his explanation, tentatively. "I used to watch tv, at the hotel. After we came back from Quortoth. There were movies of people doing sex -- all kinds of people." Angel and Wesley exchanged looks of pure relief. The thought that Wes had given Connor to a man who might have -- but he hadn't. Still shaken, Angel managed to nod. "Yeah. Well, see... me and Wesley... we're together. Like that." "Okay." Connor sounded like he was waiting for more, but when it wasn't forthcoming, he offered, "Holtz didn't like me watching that stuff. Any of it, I mean, not just the men together... he said he knew values had changed. But anyway, I know about sex. Don't worry, you don't have to explain it." "I wouldn't have minded," Ange lied. "But... yeah. So. I just wanted you to know that. About me and Wesley." Connor brushed his hair back out of his eyes impatiently. "Do you live here now?" he asked Wesley. Wes blinked. "Er... no," he said. "I have my own apartment. All of my things -- well, most of them -- are there." Speaking of which, Angel thought out loud, "What about you?" "What about me?" Connor asked. "Do you, um, need somewhere to stay? Because, you know... hotel. Lots of rooms, if you wanted one." Angel shuffled his feet slightly and jammed his hands into his pockets, looking down at his shoes. There was an uncomfortable silence as Connor seemed to think about this, but then the boy said, "I don't want you telling me what to do." It was said matter-of-factly, without malice. Angel held up both hands. "Hey, no. You want a room, it's yours. What you want to do with it, that's your business." He thought about that for a minute. "Well, as long as you aren't doing drugs." Connor snorted, then looked at Wesley with obvious hesitation. "It's okay with you?" Wes seemed startled by the question. "If you're both comfortable with it, that's what matters." "No," Angel protested, keeping his voice calm. "Your opinion counts too." "It's fine," Wes said, with a brief shake of his head that Angel thought meant 'We'll talk about it later.' Angel filed it away to make sure they *would* talk about it later, and let it drop for the time being. Besides, there was another issue on his mind. "So is Justine going to show up here looking for you?" He figured that was the last thing any of them needed, but Wes especially. "I don't think so. She... doesn't like you very much." Another little twitch of Connor's lips, like he was trying not to smile. "You think?" Angel couldn't prevent his own grin, not completely. He wasn't sure he could have explained how it was possible that he was standing here smiling at the kid who'd sent him to the bottom of the ocean for a couple of months, but... it didn't feel bad. There was a knock and a shadow at the door. "That would be the pizza," Wes said, and went to retrieve it. He came back, cardboard box balanced on one palm as he used his other hand to stuff his wallet back into his pocket. "I can take it," Connor said, stepping forward to take the box. Wes went into the office and got some paper plates and napkins. Angel watched Connor and Wesley share the pizza while they all continued to talk, the mood between the three of them lightening noticeably as time went on. He felt like something that had been obscuring his vision had been suddenly lifted -- he wasn't sure when it had happened exactly, but things were clearer now. Brighter. Like he was finally able to see good stuff *as* good. Wes was looking at him questioningly, and he realized that he'd been asked a question. "Sorry. What?" "Are you all right?" Angel grinned. "Yeah. I'm good." Once Connor was settled into his new room -- he'd only had one bag with some clothes -- Angel took Wes back to his suite. "You okay with this?" he asked. "With what?" Wes had that look on his face that said he knew exactly what Angel was talking about, but was hoping he could get away with avoiding the subject. "With Connor staying here." Wes nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Yes, of course. It's your home, Angel -- it's your decision. I'm perfectly comfortable with that." Angel watched Wes' face carefully. "Liar." Wes looked startled, and then grinned slightly. "I *am* comfortable with it being your decision," he protested. "But not with him staying here." "I *would* be a liar if I told you that I was completely at ease with it," Wes admitted. "But that's something that can only get better with time, I'd imagine. I mean... seeing him here, as an adult -- or near enough -- when..." Angel figured he could see where that train of thought was leading. "Hey," he said, moving over to Wes and pulling him into an embrace. "Enough with the brooding, okay? Thought that was supposed to be *my* specialty." "Of course. What was I thinking?" There was something hesitant in Wes' eyes, but he kissed Angel and then tightened his arms around him. "I'm very glad for your sake that he's come back," Wes said softly. "Are you... that is, do you...?" "What?" "Do you trust him?" It was a fair enough question, considering. Angel kissed Wesley before answering. "Yeah," he said, the words taking a while to make it from his brain to his lips. "Yeah, I do. I mean, he's been through a lot. To come back here after everything that's happened, that took guts." The look in Wesley's eyes was one of confusion. "You're proud of him." "Well... yeah." Angel felt confused too. "Despite what he did to you, you've actually forgiven him, haven't you?" Wesley's brow above his glasses was slightly wrinkled. "Forgiven, yeah. Not forgotten," Angel said, as he reached to smooth the lines from Wes' forehead with gentle fingers. "But... he's my kid." "If only it were that simple." Wes' back muscles were tense under Angel's arm. Angel could read the subtext there loud and clear. Not knowing what else to do, he shrugged a little bit. "Maybe it's not always. Doesn't mean it's the kid's fault though." "No, of course not." "Don't do that," Angel protested. "Do what?" "Dismiss what I'm telling you when you *know* that if it was anyone else, you'd be saying the same thing. How come you're so reasonable when it comes to everyone but yourself?" He was nervous -- he knew he was pushing Wes, and after their earlier... well, he didn't want to call it a fight, but... "Look," he said, gently, cupping Wes' face in his hand and feeling a warmth in his chest that made him want to wrap Wes up and never, even let anything hurt him again, "I know there are... issues. With your dad. But they aren't, you know... a reflection of *you.*" "There are times when it's difficult to convince myself of that," Wesley admitted quietly, his eyes searching Angel's like there might be something there that would make a difference for him. "I know," Angel said. "But you know what? You're gonna be stuck with me for a long, long time, so I'll just have to do the convincing for you." The look on Wes' face would have been enough to make the words worth saying even if it'd been hard. Which it hadn't. Wes kissed him, both his hands sliding down to Angel's ass and pulling him closer, rubbing against him. "There's no possible way that *I* deserve this," Wes murmured, echoing back to their earlier conversation. "There's every possible way," Angel corrected him, letting his lips trail down over Wes' throat, loving the way that Wesley's pulse speeded up with desire but not the faintest hint of fear. "Love you," he said, and licked the scar tissue on Wes' neck. He felt a full-body shiver go through Wes, heard the little gasp that escaped him. "Angel." "Wesley," he said, and licked again. "God, love... more. Please." The words did as much for Angel as the taste of Wes' skin, but he didn't want to get in over his head, not when he could smell the blood flowing just under the surface. He moved his mouth to catch Wesley's instead, kissing him thoroughly until Wes was hard against his thigh. "You don't..." Wesley started, then paused. "Are you sure this is a good idea, what with...?" "He already knows," Angel pointed out. Wes looked like he wanted to say something else, but he shook his head. "You're right." He kissed Angel, his hot tongue pushing its way into Angel's mouth, and then asked, huskily, "Take me to bed?" "You got it." Later, Angel woke up slowly, the darkness of sleep fading away so gradually that he wasn't sure when it happened. The lamp on the bedside table was turned on, and Wes was sitting up next to him, pillows crushed between the headboard and the small of his back, a book balanced in his lap as he scribbled some notes on a scrap of paper. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" Angel asked groggily. He turned his head to check -- the clock read 4 a.m.. Wes looked at him guiltily. "I'm sorry -- I didn't think I'd wake you." "S'okay." Angel rolled onto his side, his weight on one elbow. "What are you doing?" Tucking the piece of paper between the pages of the book, Wes closed it and set it down on the table along with the pen. "Nothing." "You're sitting up at four in the morning doing nothing?" "Just some research," Wes said, not meeting Angel's eyes. "I couldn't sleep." Angel reached to draw Wesley into his arms, nuzzling his jaw where stubble made the skin rough. "What's up?" Wes sighed, the sound going right into Angel's gut and making it ache. "I need to try something else," he admitted, after a brief silence. "With what?" "The visions," Wes explained. "It's unacceptable to leave them as they are if this is the result -- if I'm unable to read them with any degree of certainty, then doing the spell to alter them was a serious error in judgement. I'll have to undo it." "No," Angel said, sitting up. "No way." "There's no other alternative," Wes said. "I may be able to find something else that will curtail the damage, at least, but in the meantime -- " "*No.* Jesus, Wes -- don't you remember what they were doing to Cordy? There's no *way* you're going back to that." "Angel, there's no other option. I -- " "Okay, I'm thinking you're not hearing me when I say *no.*" Angel repeated. "No, definitely not, no way, no how, no --" "*Angel.* I understand your concerns, really I do. But tampering with the visions the way I did was... irresponsible. I *need* to be able to see whatever it is the Powers That Be are trying to show me -- that's the whole point." "The point," Angel said angrily, "is for you to be *alive* to see the visions. That's all that matters. You've had what, two visions since you did the spell? Give it some time. You can't seriously think that there's something wrong with the way you're seeing them based on *two* visions." Wesley nodded at him, one hand coming out to stroke his cheek so gently that Angel had to close his eyes. "Maybe you're right. I may be jumping the gun a bit. I'm just... well, I suppose I'm afraid of what might happen if I have another vision and I'm unable to see enough to make sense of it." With his eyes still closed, Angel leaned down and kissed Wes. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out. But we're not gonna undo the spell, not if it's what keeps your brain from getting all screwed up. We'll find another way." Angel opened his eyes, and could tell from Wesley's expression that he wasn't totally buying it. "We'll see," Wes said neutrally. "What do I have to do to convince you?" Angel asked, pressing Wes down into the mattress with the weight of his body. "Because just say the word, and it's yours. I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?" Wes' hands clutched at his ass, hips rocking into Angel's. "I would as well. Do anything for you, I mean." He gasped as Angel's tongue traced along his throat and down to one taut nipple. "Angel..." He could hear the unspoken request in Wes' voice, read it in the eager push of Wesley's hips. Angel scraped his teeth over Wes' nipple, earning another gasp, and then slid lower and took Wes' dick into his mouth. It tasted like life, like Wes, and if Angel couldn't -- wouldn't let himself -- have Wes' blood, he'd have his cock instead. Wesley moaned, shifted his position, one hand on Angel's shoulder, encouraging him. Not that Angel needed any encouragement. He could do this all night -- licking Wes, sucking him avidly, tongue circling, tasting every nuance of skin and fluid. "Angel, *please.*" Angel released Wes and moved down to mouth his balls instead, stroking with his hand now, letting his fingers flick up and over the head of the hard warm cock in his fist. Wes' breathing was quicker now. Angel could feel Wes' heartbeat against his knuckles, could smell the unbearably distinct thread of arousal winding itself around him like something delicate and powerful at the same time. It made his face itch to change, made his teeth ache, made him want to taste Wesley's blood. He was used to denying himself. He moved his tongue back to the head of Wes' cock instead, licking it, while his hand speeded up, stroking Wes even faster. It was less than thirty seconds before Wes cried out, shuddering as he came, thigh muscles under Angel's arm trembling with the force of it. Angel swallowed, tasting the faint slick bitterness of Wes' come, and then licked him clean, slowly. He listened to Wes as his breathing gradually slowed, as his heartbeat went from pounding to normal beating, and then eventually to the slower pulse of near-sleep. Angel moved up, nuzzled Wesley's throat where the pulse was anything but uncomplicated. "Love you," he whispered, and Wes murmured something and turned slightly, settling himself into sleep and Angel's arms in one easy movement. He lay there for another fifteen minutes, willing himself to relax, but he couldn't get there. Slowly, trying not to wake Wesley, Angel eased out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Game face slipped on powerfully, like the flick of a switch, and he drank three mugs of cow's blood in an attempt to drive back the desire to feed from Wes. He'd keep control because he had to. Because no other alternative was acceptable. It had nothing to do with the happiness thing -- fuck, most of the time he didn't even know how he'd been able to achieve perfect happiness with Buffy, given all the other things that had been hanging over his head. Given all the things that were always hanging over his head -- murder, rape, torture. He didn't deserve happiness, even if he didn't have to be careful of it. He turned slightly, leaning against the countertop, and watched Wesley sleeping. *Wes* deserved happiness. There were things people wanted, and Angel... wasn't people. Couldn't understand, maybe. Wes stirred and murmured in his sleep, then his eyes opened. "Angel?" His voice was quiet, half-asleep. It sounded like he was looking for reassurance. Angel wiped his mouth and went back to the edge of the bed. "Yeah, right here." He sat, ran his arm down Wes' shoulder to his waist, unable to prevent himself from enjoying the way Wes curled into his touch like a cat might. "Go back to sleep." "Not without you," Wes said. "Come to bed, love." The word settled into Angel's stomach, warm and comforting. It made him feel alive. Angel slid under the covers and pulled Wes to him, and the other man sighed contentedly and snuggled in closer, one arm tightening briefly around Angel's waist before it relaxed again into sleep. The warmth gradually lulled Angel to sleep too. His last conscious thought was that if Wes loved him, he had to be doing something right. To be followed by the (as of yet unwritten) 4th story in the Unwanted Gifts series.
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