After Wesley Died

Angel, a slashfic in five parts

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: primarily Angel/Wesley and Angel/Spike

Disclaimer: "Angel" and "Buffy," with their related characters and themes, belong to Joss Whedon and others, not to me. I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and Alexis Denisof. What pretty...names.

Wherein demons explode; Spike makes unscheduled appearances; and The Amazing Angst Man and His Trusty Sidekick, Watcher Boy, battle the forces of darkness.

Notice: This is part two. Have you read part one?

"Angel" Part Two: After Wesley Died

Blood on his hands, there was blood on his hands-

Cordelia was holding him, or he was holding her, or they were holding each other, he wasn't sure, kneeling there beside Wesley's dead body.

"We have to call Kate," Cordelia said. "Oh my god." She sobbed in his arms. He was probably holding her too tightly, but he couldn't let go. He opened his eyes and looked down, over her shoulder, to Wesley. Blood, eyes open, everything still and quiet. He focused on Cordelia's heartbeat, she was alive, she was warm and good and whole. He listened to the thud and thump of her heart, let himself get lost in it. The sound started to echo weirdly, and he frowned.

Wesley's body convulsed; Wesley drew in a large, harsh gasp of air.

Cordelia screamed.

Angel clutched at Cordelia, half to calm her and half to center himself.

Wesley stared at the ceiling, breathing loudly. The breaths grew calmer and Wesley sat up cautiously. One pale hand came up to feel over the front of the bloody sweatshirt with the bullet hole. Wesley felt over his chest, poked a finger through the hole in the shirt and the hole in the undershirt. Frowned.

"Wesley?" Cordelia asked. "Why aren't you dead?"

"I was dead," Wesley said, half question, half statement. "I was," he repeated. "Now I'm not anymore."

Cordelia grabbed the hems of Wesley's shirts and yanked up, exposing a pale tight chest stained with drying blood. "There's no bullet hole."

Wesley coughed hideously and spat out a bullet. Then he fainted.

"We're out of here," Cordelia said. "Angel, carry him. Frank, Chris, seek therapy." She grabbed the bullet and stood.

Angel lifted Wesley in his arms. Heavy and warm and alive. He held Wesley close and they went down the stairs quickly.

Wesley woke in the car with a start.

"Relax, we're going back to the office," Cordelia said. "And you owe Angel a new sweatshirt. Why aren't you dead?"

"I have no bloody idea," Wesley said. "I may call Giles for help on this one. I never intended to contact him again, but I'm lost this time."

"You've never displayed quick healing before now," Angel said.

"This is more than healing, this is coming back from the dead," Cordelia said. "Are you a vampire?"

"I certainly hope not," Wesley said. "I don't see how I could be."

"Were your parents demons?"

"Not literally," Wesley said.

"Hmm. I'm stuck," Cordelia admitted.

Back at the office, they studied the bullet but found nothing extraordinary. They went down to Angel's apartment, where Wesley washed off the blood and had tea, now dressed in Angel's gray sweatsuit, free of bullet holes and bloodstains. As far as Angel knew, Wesley was entirely naked under this gray one, hence the even more tightly clutching of the pants.

Wesley sat at the table with a paring knife. "This is going to hurt."

"Oh no," Cordelia said.

"Wesley, don't," Angel said.

"This really is going to hurt," Wesley said.

"Oh stop it!" Cordelia said, turning away quickly. Wesley gritted his teeth and drew the knife across his arm, viciously shoving the blade in deep before fainting. Angel yanked out the knife and stared in horror. Then he said, "Cordelia. Cordelia, look." She turned and watched with him in grisly fascination as the blood stopped, as the wound began to heal itself. Wesley came to with a jerk just as the skin closed. He looked down and frowned. He ran a hand over his arm and found only blood, not a mark to indicate that he'd sunk a blade into his forearm.

"Wow," Cordelia said.

Wesley got up to wash off the blood again, taking the knife from Angel. "What does this mean? Is it permanent? Am I...immortal? How has it happened? How can I be hurt? How can I be killed? Will I stop aging?"

"Those are excellent questions," Cordelia said. "I have no idea how to answer."

"Call Giles," Angel told Cordelia. "I'm going to see the Oracles. Do you have anything that I could give them?"

"We have a magic bullet," Cordelia suggested.

"You," Angel told Wesley, "stay here. Do not leave this apartment."

"May I go to the office to get books?"

"Cordelia will bring them to you."

"Oh, I will," Cordelia said. "And do I have to cut his toenails and peel his grapes, too?"

"I'll be back," Angel said. "Call Giles."

Angel went to the place that Doyle had taken him, but he couldn't summon the portal. He couldn't get through to the Oracles. What was he doing wrong? Finally, frustrated, he left and went back to the office, which was empty; he went to his apartment and was intercepted by Cordelia as he left the lift.

"Wesley's sleeping," she reported. "On the sofa."

"You called Giles?"

"Yeah, he's going to do research stuff. I think he's going to want to come out here to see for himself. Giles and Wesley never really got along, but professional curiosity and all of that. So? What'd the Oracles say?"

"Nothing. I couldn't reach them."

"Why not?"

"I must have been doing it wrong. Doyle knew how to contact them. Do you?"

"Hey, after that little episode of falling unconscious at my audition, I'm finished with those guys."

"Cordelia, we have to find out what's happening, and they might have answers."

"Believe me, if they want you to know what's happening, they'll come to you. I'm going home."

"Thanks."

"God, tell him never to die again. I am not going through this stuff-"

He held her close. "It's okay."

"He was dead. I didn't think that I'd have to lose anyone that soon, not so soon after Doyle, and he was dead, and it was such a senseless stupid lousy way to die, and we've been working together and we barely know him, and I..."

"I know."

"And if you die - - you're the only person I have in this whole stupid city."

"I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

"Do you think he's really immortal?"

"I don't know what to think."

"If he is, that totally sucks. I would not want to live forever."

"I'd like to keep you around for another few years," Angel said.

"You're not so bad yourself." She got onto the lift and left him.

Angel walked toward the sofa, walked around it, looked down at Wesley. Amid all of the brooding and questioning and guilt and doubt came the thought that if Wesley truly wasn't wearing underwear, he could just reach inside those sweatpants and-

He got so pissed at himself that he vamped out briefly, then went to get a drink.

About an hour later, Wesley woke up suddenly and fell off of the sofa. Angel stifled every protective instinct and said, walking over slowly, "You all right?"

Wesley remained on the floor but sat up a little more tidily. "I'm fine, thank you." He reached for his glasses on the table and put them on, looking around some. "I'm in your apartment, it's very early Saturday morning, and I've been shot."

"Yes."

"You spoke with the Oracles?"

"I couldn't reach them. You were having a nightmare?"

"Probably not uncommon after being shot."

"Probably not." It was amazing. Doyle was the most regular guy he'd ever known, and one amused glance from those green eyes had sent him into instant arousal. Spike, Spike was the most seductive man he'd ever known; Spike could turn on anyone any way; those eyes, that mouth, that voice, that face, that body, that grace. Doyle had been an average person he'd connected with quickly and easily, who knew how to talk to him and how to make him feel like someone again; Spike was sexy and taunting and quick and arrogant and impossible. And Wesley, Wesley was sitting on his floor wearing ill-fitting clothes, and that made him want to make love to Wesley like he hadn't made love since he'd been with Spike. Why? Wesley was smart, and attractive, but why did he care?

Wesley stood and went to the bathroom, then came back, made tea, and sat at the kitchen table. Angel sat across from him.

"I need to know what's happened to me," Wesley said.

"I know. We'll figure it out."

"The Watchers have the best resources, but I don't dare contact them."

"Between me and you and Giles, we're as well-supplied as the Watchers. Nothing's stumped us yet, Wesley."

"There is a first time for everything. No, you're correct; I must have a positive attitude. After all, it's been rather a good day, since I didn't die. I hope that I didn't scare Cordelia too badly."

"Nah, she's seen a lot these past few years."

"She's tough," Wesley agreed. "Maybe she should have been the Slayer."

Angel smiled slightly. "That could have been interesting." Then he watched surreptitiously through lowered lashes as Wesley thought. Finally Wesley spoke.

"I wonder whether my illness and repeated visions were side effects of the manifestation of my, shall we call it immortality until we understand it? Whatever my new condition, it came right upon the heels of my illness. And the repeated visions - - were they a warning of sorts? To keep me away from the shooting - - or to lure me to it?"

"We don't know what your new condition is," Angel said. "We don't know how long it will last. We don't know how far it goes. You can't keep stabbing yourself and experimenting; you could go too far and cause permanent damage."

"In other words, you wouldn't advise me to step before a moving vehicle to test whether or not I can survive a hit-and-run?" Wesley asked. "That might be wise."

"We're going to figure it out," he insisted.

"I do hope so."

He watched as Wesley's fingers ghosted over the front of the shirt. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

Wesley looked at Angel in surprise, then realized what his hand was doing. "Oh, no. I'm just wool-gathering."

"It hasn't left any mark?"

"Not one."

"I think that the bullet must have lodged in your spine; that's why it didn't come through you. Then when you healed, it was expelled, and you coughed it up."

"I assumed the same," Wesley agreed. "It must have done severe damage; I died instantly."

"We tried CPR," Angel said. "We called 911 and we tried CPR, but..."

"Thank you," Wesley said, a little softly. "For trying. For caring." He paused. "I'll assume that Cordelia did the breathing and you the compressions."

"Yeah, I'm not good at mouth-to-mouth."

"I wouldn't think so," Wesley said. "No offense intended. I'm off to bed. It's been a rough day."

"I could use some sleep myself. You wouldn't rather have the bed?"

"I'll be fine out here, thank you. And soon I may find my own clothes and my own apartment and get out of your well-styled hair."

"Look who's talking," Angel muttered, and went to bed.

When Angel left his bedroom, he found Wesley on the floor before the sofa, this time doing sit-ups while reciting poetry. When he left the bathroom, Wesley was on push-ups, poetry a little breathier now. "You want breakfast?"

"No thank you," Wesley said. "I'll be home to change, then I'll be in the office. I might call Giles to speak with him myself. No doubt having Cordelia as the messenger left him a little unsure."

"No doubt," Angel agreed.

"He may like to speak with you as well. Most likely he'll assume that I'm confused or, indeed, hysterical."

"That's not you," Angel said. "Not anymore," he amended.

Wesley smiled, but it was a bit too bitter for Angel's liking. "Thank you for believing so," Wesley said. "I'll be on my way then."

"Wait, Wesley." Wesley turned to him. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're all right. When I thought that you were dead, even hurt, I...didn't like it." Oh god that could not have sounded any more lame.

Wesley nodded and turned to go.

"Wait." He had to say something, say something right for once. "Would you mind, just so I can see for myself... I keep picturing the bullet hole, the wound, and I had to do chest compressions and I could feel - - it would be really nice to see for myself that you're fine."

Wesley hesitated, then nodded, coming a step closer, another step, tugging up the shirt, hesitating, pulling it off entirely, holding it in one hand.

Wesley was slim, with broad shoulders, slim hips, and a taut physique. Angel was aware that Wesley had been trying to get in fighting trim, so to speak, in accordance with the new lifestyle of battling demons hand-to-hand, not just in theory. Angel's eyes ran over Wesley's torso, the pale pink skin, the chest moving slightly with breath, the heart that he knew beat just there. Wesley had sensitive nipples, he noted. Angel liked men with sensitive nipples. He spent a moment watching Wesley breathe, and his eyes traced over Wesley's chest and abdomen. Nothing wrong here. No, not a thing. But he'd seen Wesley die, he'd seen the blood, he'd seen the deep glistening wound. Seen it, smelled it, practically tasted it; the gunshot still echoed in his ears. And he'd felt it, felt it under his hands, the blood, the soft tissue, Wesley's body giving way under his-

He trailed his fingertips down Wesley's chest from nipple line to navel.

So alive. So warm. So silky.

Wesley stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Pardon me for sounding like an English prude, but do you have less than innocent intentions or are you touching me for medical reasons?"

He was going to answer, he really was, but just as he met Wesley's eyes and opened his mouth, knowing that he looked stunned and stupid, he noticed out of the corner of his eyes that the sweatpants were slipping. His gaze went down fast, and he watched in dry-mouthed fascination as the top of Wesley's pelvis was bared, clean lines of bone, dark coarse hairs, tantalizing curves of-

Wesley jerked his pants back up and said, "It may be past time for me to leave."

"No, Wesley, let me..."

"Explain? Apologize?"

"I was going to say 'kiss you.' But I can't. And not just because you're straight and you don't like me. Because I've had two relationships under this curse, and neither one made anyone happy. Well, the one made me a little too happy, and that was a problem. I know better than to get involved with anyone, even slightly. I won't make that mistake a third time. I want you to know that I won't touch you, I won't try to kiss you, I'll leave you alone. You don't have to worry or be uncomfortable."

"I'm not straight."

"What?"

"I'm bisexual."

"Shit. But you don't like me, do you?" Please, let Wesley not like him, let Wesley hate him, even.

"I haven't quite decided how I feel about you," Wesley said. "I certainly hadn't realized that you were attracted to me in any small way."

"It's not a small way," Angel said. "It's a big way. It's a huge way."

"You flatter yourself," Wesley said.

"No, I didn't mean that. Not that. Well, really-"

"I don't need to know."

"No. Right. Sorry."

"If you are attracted to me, and I can't imagine why you would be, what does this mean? Is it a passing fancy? Is it related to you having no one in your life but myself, Cordelia, and sometimes Kate, so you're growing desperate for-"

"I'm not desperate."

"I know that you have the whole bad boy thing, and that's lovely, but-"

"You're English, you drink tea, you wear suits, you're the picture of the strait-laced do-gooder who secretly fantasizes about the local motorcycle thug. I remember when you were striding around stubbled wearing leather and-"

"All right, perhaps you have a point there. Still, you are a vampire."

"I won't deny it."

"Perhaps this is purely physical?"

"No."

"Ah. The plot thickens. Are you having these...feelings...for others? Kate, perhaps?"

"Only you. I tend to get fixations on one person at a time. Spike, then Buffy, then Doyle."

"Surely you wouldn't compare me with the great loves of your life."

"Well, not yet. We haven't even kissed."

"One needn't consummate the relationship to know true love. John Keats-"

"My point is, I'm not interested in anyone but you."

"Again, the question arises, why? All right, you're expressing an interest in me. What are your intentions?"

"That depends on you. I thought that I'd do some brooding and some secret ogling, and try to develop our friendship, but that was before I knew that you were bisexual. If you are bi, then it's possible that you'll develop an interest in me. More likely, at least, then if you were straight. Which means that I may have a chance. If you can overlook the fact that, basically, I'm dead."

"And if you have sex you become a raging sociopath, extremely violent and aggressive, extremely intelligent-"

"I'm not intelligent now?" It wasn't about sex, it wasn't, and he knew that Wesley knew it.

"Shall we try to stay on topic?"

"Do you want me?"

"You are tall dark and handsome. You are mysterious and full of angst. As noted, you have the bad boy draped in black type working for you. I just can't help but wonder how well you can possibly like me when Doyle's just died."

"I know," Angel said. "I was in love with Doyle. I still am. I'll always love Doyle. But he's gone. The death of a loved one never is easy. But I know that he's gone. He made me realize what I've been missing in life. I stopped living. Even Buffy couldn't get me there. Doyle did. He wouldn't want me to stop again, not even for him. And I have been, I did. When Doyle died, I died again. But I want to live, and I want to live with you." He made himself stop. "I know that it's not fair. Even if you were attracted to me, we couldn't do much to act on that attraction. We could like each other and spend time together and kiss, but I can't let it go any farther, because if we take one step too many I'll turn again. I can't risk it. And a chaste love may sound romantic, but it's awful. I kept hoping that you'd be straight and pure, and that I wouldn't get a chance to be near you. That would make my life much easier, to be in love with someone who couldn't..." He shut his mouth quickly.

"I hope that was merely a theoretical phrase and not meant to relate to our current situation."

"Yes," Angel said.

"Good."

"We don't even know each other all that well."

"No, we don't."

"And you don't like me anyway."

"Right."

"Could you put your shirt on again, please?"

"Right, sorry." Wesley turned and reached down for the shirt dropped on the floor; Angel watched all of that naked back, the graceful curve of a long spine; the pants slipped as Wesley reached and bent, and Angel unconsciously licked his canines. Wesley stood again, one hand holding the shirt, the other hand going to pull up the errant pants again.

"Have you been with men?"

"My personal affairs are none of your business," Wesley said. "One. Another Watcher, when I was at the academy. Adam."

"Were you in love with him?"

"I could have been," Wesley said.

"Women?"

"Have I been with women, yes. Have I been in love with women, no. And there hasn't been anyone for some time now, if you must know. Not since leaving England."

"You don't like Americans?"

"We don't communicate well," Wesley said. "And the second that I raise my arms to pull on this sweatshirt, these pants are going to fall right down again. Is this the most contrary outfit you possibly could buy?"

Angel reached out and held the waistband in one hand, not touching Wesley's skin, eyes on the floor. "Go ahead."

Wesley pulled on the shirt. Angel's peripheral vision caught the smooth motions of Wesley's chest, the tantalizing flutter of muscles, before everything was covered in a thick layer of light gray cotton. "Thank you."

Angel let go, stepping back, resisting the impulse to shove the pants down and drop to his knees. He loved sucking cock, he was a cocksucker at heart, but since issues of control came with that task, he'd only ever done it for Spike. He would have loved to do it for Doyle. Of course, having a vampire near a sensitive organ, with all of that blood pulsing there, wasn't necessarily a good idea.

Wesley left.

Angel stayed down in his apartment until Cordelia ran down two hours later to tell him to come to the office; Wesley was on the phone with Giles.

Angel went up to the office. He stood by Cordelia's desk, on her phone, talking with Giles, eyes on Wesley's back. He confirmed for Giles what Cordelia and Wesley already had related. Giles promised to come out to L.A. the following day, possibly with Willow. As long as it wasn't Buffy, Angel could deal. Well, even if it were Buffy, he'd be fine, he supposed. He loved her, they couldn't be together, it was nothing more than that. He lived with loss and longing every day, for more than he could say.

He hung up the phone. "Giles is coming tomorrow."

"Great, like I need more old men telling me what to do," Cordelia said.

Angel watched the back of Wesley's neck, the flesh between collar and hairline. Silken skin, probably warm and soft. The uppermost vertebrae, visible just there. The vulnerable nape. What he wouldn't give, just to touch, just to know.

The following afternoon, Cordelia screamed. Angel ran from his private office into the general reception area and saw Cordelia sitting behind the desk, staring at Giles and, right behind Giles, Spike. Spike! Spike?

"Remember me, do you?" Spike asked Cordelia.

Wesley walked in then, through the entrance, coming up behind Giles and Spike. "I heard a scream. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Giles said, with an almost patiently amused glance at Spike. "Hello, Wesley."

"Hello. Oh dear." Wesley stared at Spike. "You're...a vampire, aren't you?"

"This is Spike," Giles said. "He's been neutered, you needn't worry."

"What?" Cordelia asked. "You cut off his-"

"Cordelia," Angel said. "Spike? What are you doing here?"

"I've hooked up with the good guys," Spike said, sarcastic and bitter, gorgeous and sexual. "There were a bunch of half-military psychos running around killing demons in the name of science. They locked me up and I escaped, but now I can't hurt anybody except bad guys."

"Can't say I'm sorry to hear that," Cordelia said.

"He's a nice one, isn't he?" Spike asked, looking over Wesley, taking a turn around the man. "So even the Watchers like their eye candy."

"I'm sorry," Giles told Angel. "I wouldn't have brought him at all, but he's been getting on Buffy's nerves. I can't imagine why."

Well, this was just one of the weirdest turn of events of Angel's life. Spike working with Buffy. Amazing. And now Spike was looking over Wesley with undisguised interest - - no, make that blatantly predatory interest. Spike wanted Wesley for dinner, and then for dessert as well.

"Could we lock him up somewhere?" Cordelia asked. "He's creepy."

"Why don't we go sit down and talk," Angel suggested. "Cordelia, you can stay out here."

"Thank you," she said.

"I don't know what the problem is," Spike said. "You work for Angel, and he's a vampire."

"Yes, but he has a soul," Cordelia said. "You have a bad dye job."

Spike growled and stepped forward. Giles said, "Not now."

"But I haven't eaten all day," Spike said, "and she's-"

"I did not bring you all this way just to have you irritate me at every turn."

"Like you're a barrel of laughs?" Spike asked.

"I can be quite amusing," Giles said, offended.

"Could we please get to business?" Wesley asked impatiently.

"Don't say it," Giles told Spike. "Just don't." The four of them went to the Angel's together and sat around the room. Spike sat behind Angel's desk; Angel couldn't let that claim to his dominance go unnoticed, so he walked over and stood beside Spike, looking down on the younger vampire. Spike smiled up at him and two boots went up on the desktop, Spike's ankles crossed.

"This is my office and my desk and my chair. Get up," Angel said.

"Not very hospitable of you. And you haven't offered me anything to drink, either." Spike's gaze ran over to Wesley by the window.

Spike did look underfed. "I'll feed you later," Angel said. "Get up."

"I'm hungry now," Spike said.

"That's not my responsibility. Get up."

"Bloody shirtlifter." Spike got up and stood in the dark corner to fume. Angel knew that it wasn't a good idea to make Spike mad, but it wasn't a good idea to make him mad, either. He sat comfortably and said to Giles, "You have questions?"

"I'd like to see evidence for myself," Giles said.

"Well, he was shot and there's no wound," Angel said.

"You're sure," Giles said. "Perhaps the bullet itself was extraordinary."

"I cut myself that night, rather deeply, and healed instantly," Wesley said.

"Yes, I heard - - I don't suppose," Giles said. "I don't suppose that you'd-"

"No," Angel said.

"Do it again?" Wesley asked.

"No," Angel said.

"Does anyone have a knife?" Wesley asked.

"No," Angel said. "Giles, it happened. I saw it, Cordelia saw it, Wesley saw it. The gunshot and the knife wound. You can't ask Wesley to cut himself open."

"A never-ending supply of food," Spike said. "This is perfect! Drink him dry, he fills right up again."

"What does concern me," Wesley said, firmly changing the subject, "is that I haven't had a vision since this began. I'd begun to have them almost daily."

"I was wondering about that," Angel admitted.

"And you can't contact The Powers?" Giles asked.

"Do you know how?" Angel asked.

"I may," Giles said. "I don't suppose that you have any mandala powder lying about?"

"There's a shop two blocks from here," Angel said. "Cordelia can go with you; we have an account there."

"I'll get on that," Giles said. "I'll leave Spike with you." Giles left the office. A moment later Angel heard Giles and Cordelia go.

"Got blood?" Spike asked.

"My apartment's downstairs," Angel said. "Come on."

"I want Wesley to show me," Spike said.

If Wesley did have a slight predilection for bad boys, Spike would be perfect. Spike was all attitude and swagger, unrepentant and arrogant, graceful and violent. Angel couldn't imagine Spike unable to attack, unable to feed, unable to terrorize. However, that didn't mean that Spike's sexually predatory nature was at all held in check.

Angel took Spike down to his apartment and watched Spike drink. "What happened with the psychotic military group?"

"The Initiative. We took care of it," Spike said. "Buffy's dating the head guy. Riley. Agent Finn." Spike smirked.

"Riley?"

"Jealous?"

"Yes and no."

"Should she be jealous?"

"Of what?"

"Of you and her most recent former Watcher?"

"No."

"You want him."

"I can't have him, and neither can you, so back off."

"Temper temper. What's he like out of those clothes?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Why're you so pissy today?" Spike asked. "Are you mad because now I can see Buffy and you can't? Are you mad because I'm here on your turf? Are you mad because somebody else finally made me pathetic and defenseless when you never could?"

"Why are you here?"

"Doyle's dead and I wanted to see if you were all right. So piss on me for being a soft old poof. It's those damned humans; now that I can't eat anybody I've turned into you."

Angel was amazed. Spike, though hating himself for it, cared about Angel. Cared enough to come and see how Angel was. "I'll be all right."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you to start that whole unattractive brooding guilt thing again."

"That's unattractive?"

"Well, it's sexy on you. I can't get it to work myself."

"You never feel guilty."

Spike grinned. "Not once."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this."

Spike's grin turned to a glare. "Then don't say it."

"It's good to see you."

"Stake! Someone hand me a stake!"

"For the first time in a long time," Angel said. "It's good to see you."

"Because you're resouled and back from the Great Beyond, and I've been fixed, and we're fighting on the same side, not against each other. I get it. Just don't start crying or hugging or anything gross. Although you could kiss me. Just so I can go back to Sunnydale and tell Buffy that I got some action. She'll be so jealous. She'll try to beat me up for it."

"Then it might be worth it," Angel said.

"I didn't mean it."

"I could. For old times' sake."

"Don't you dare."

"Hold still.

"Angel! You-"

Spike's next words were cut off by Angel's mouth. He kissed Spike, hands on either side of the counter, backing Spike into a trapped position. Deftly he opened Spike's mouth, tugging on Spike's lower lip with his teeth and licking at Spike's teeth with his tongue until Spike opened up to him, let him inside, and he remembered this now, remembered the taste of Spike, the feel of Spike. Remembered how damned bloody fucking good Spike was at this.

Spike tasted like Spike, and like the blood Spike had been drinking. Angel licked at Spike's sensitive wet mouth, licked up all traces of blood, marvelled at once again tasting his favorite two flavors together. For a long time, he'd lived off of these two things, blood and Spike, Spike and blood.

His right arm wrapped around Spike's waist and he brought his body against Spike's, treasuring the sensation of that hard muscular lean form against him once more. He was turned on, and so was Spike, and Spike's hands were on his shoulders to hold him close.

Angel backed off fast.

"What?" Spike asked.

"You're making me happy."

Spike grinned. "Nice to see some things haven't changed."

"I can't be happy."

"Come on, Angel, it's not like... I make you happy?"

"Yes." Angel stroked his cheek, stroked his ear, kissed him gently.

"Enough with the touching moments," Spike said.

"We used to be Angelus and William the Bloody. Now I'm very different."

"No kidding."

"Whatever we had then, you were with a different person. I never expected to be able to touch you, now that I've changed. But you've changed, too. It's not just the Initiative, Spike, you've changed."

"So I can like Angelus and Angel, and you can like me the way I used to be and the way I am, and we're all one big happy family with multiple personalities."

"Right."

"I thought that, you being Angel now, with a soul and a mission and everything, you wouldn't like me anymore. And I didn't think that I'd like you, either, now that you're...good. Not that I was too fond of Angelus the last time we met."

"I wasn't quite myself." Spike just looked at him, which made more of an impact than any words could have done. When Spike had nothing to say, when the pain ran deep enough to silence that mouth, Angel knew that he'd done something truly devastating. And all he could say was, "I'm sorry. For how I treated you."

"You ended up going to Hell, so I got my revenge." The tone was flippant, but Angel could see, hear the trauma. There was too much between them, too much maybe even for their complex relationship, and Angel didn't know what to say to Spike. So Angel kissed him. Kissed him some more. "Too bad we can't fuck," Spike said.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Angel said.

"Don't want you getting happy," Spike said. "Plus, you have to think about Wesley."

"I'm not involved with Wesley."

"Not because you don't want to be."

"He doesn't want me."

"Everyone wants you. I hate that."

They heard the lift. "Behave," Angel said.

"Why?" Spike said. "And can you be happy without an orgasm? Because I'll let you suck my cock."

"That would make me happy," Angel said. Not to mention which, he'd probably come anyway, because he was really horny and he hadn't gotten laid in...a while.

Giles and Cordelia got out with Wesley. "We got the icky roots and stuff," Cordelia said.

"I've found a summoning text," Giles said. "We may be able to summon a portal to The Powers That Be themselves."

"Excellent," Spike said. "Go to it."

"Thank you," Giles said with a pointed stare, and got to work with Wesley's help. They drew a mass of configurations on the floor with powders, murmuring incantations as they did so.

"Nobody sneeze," Spike said.

"Oh dear, I should have read ahead more carefully. We need blood of the innocent," Giles said.

"Innocent?" Angel asked.

Giles read carefully. "A virgin."

Everyone looked at Cordelia.

"Sorry," she said. "Don't look here. Actually, since this is L.A., you might want to try another whole city."

"Now what?" Spike asked. "Wander around asking small children for their blood? I have some experience in that area."

"Do you know any local virgins?" Giles asked Angel.

"The only person I know around here is Kate," Angel said, "and I doubt that she is."

"Oh all right," Wesley snapped, "you may have some of my blood."

Angel and Giles stared. Cordelia laughed. "You're a virgin?" Spike asked. "That's priceless."

"Well, depending on how it's defined," Wesley said, "I'm qualified."

"What does that mean?" Cordelia asked.

"None of your business," he said. "How much blood from where?" he asked Giles.

"A few drops should do it," Giles said, "here in the center."

"I'll help," Spike volunteered.

"You stay back," Giles ordered. "Angel, might we have a knife?"

Angel, still reeling, silently handed over a knife. Wesley cut his wrist and let the blood spill onto the floor in the midst of the configurations. Blood, human blood, Wesley's blood, dark and rich, the sight of it, the sweet potent smell of it. Then everyone stared as the cut healed itself.

Giles cleared his throat. "Who's going to pass through the portal? You?" he asked Angel.

Wesley collapsed.

Giles knelt quickly as Angel rushed over and Cordelia and Spike gathered. "He's fainted. He's breathing and his pulse is steady," Giles said. "He's ruined this, we'll have to start all over again."

"Should we move him?" Cordelia asked.

"Does he do this often?" Spike asked.

"He may be having a vision," Angel said. "They've been getting worse."

"Do we just wait?" Cordelia asked. "Wait, wait - - remember, I passed out and was unconscious and I was visiting those Jedi guys. Maybe that's what he's doing. I mean, we were in the middle of trying to reach them anyway."

"That's possible," Angel said. "I hope so. It would be nice to learn something."

"Of course, now his clothes and hair will be full of icky root powders," Cordelia added.

"Spike, would you stop staring at his neck?" Angel asked.

"Better than staring where you were staring," Spike said.

"Angel, were you checking Wesley out again?" Cordelia demanded. "It's one thing to do it when he's not looking, but when he's unconscious, it's just wrong."

"I will not be telling Buffy about this part of my visit," Giles muttered.

Spike grinned. "Be sure to tell her about the part where Angel was-"

"Spike," Angel said.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Spike asked.

"I don't want to know about this," Cordelia said. "Wesley's not waking up. Could we take him to the hospital or something? If all they do is stick him with needles and take X-rays, they shouldn't notice the whole healing thing."

"He's fine," Angel said. "Let's give it a few more minutes."

Ten minutes later, they moved him to the bed, trying to dust him off first.

Half an hour passed.

Wesley's eyes opened.

"Wesley?" Cordelia asked.

"Are you all right?" Angel asked.

"I could use some tea," Wesley said. Giles went to take care of that. Angel moved closer and said, "What happened?"

Wesley sat up carefully. "I believe that I have met Cordelia's acquaintances, the men in beige. They were rather kind and well-mannered, and more patient than I was, I must say."

"What did they say?" Angel asked.

"Oh. I can't tell you that."

"Why not?" Cordelia asked.

"What they had to say was for me alone. I'm sorry."

"Can you tell us anything?" Angel asked.

"I'm effectively immortal. I've stopped the aging process. When injured, I heal. When killed, I come back to life. The only way to kill me permanently and forever is to chop off my head - - which, actually, is a danger considering that I spend my time killing demons. And it is rather a gruesome notion besides. I will continue to have visions regularly."

"Why?" Angel asked.

"Why what?" Wesley asked.

"Why are you immortal?"

"That's the part that I won't tell you," Wesley said. "Excuse me, my tea may be ready." He left the bed and the room.

"A secret?" Spike asked. "I like secrets," he said with a smile. "Oh, Wesley," he said, walking out of the room.

"A secret?" Angel repeated. "He's immortal for some private reason? Like what?"

"Oh, gosh, look at the time," Cordelia said. "I'll just be going."

"Cordelia-"

"Bye!" she said brightly, hurrying away from him.

Now that Wesley knew what was happening and everything was under control, Giles was free to go. Spike volunteered to stay for a few days, but Angel said, "Maybe you should go."

"Don't you want to spend time with me?" Spike asked, flashing a seductive smile.

"Very much," Angel said. "That's why you need to go."

"Yes, mustn't make Angel happy," Spike said, running a hand down Angel's chest, hooking a finger through Angel's belt loop. "When Angel gets happy he turns into a bad, bad boy."

Angel kissed him, deep, hard, wet. Spike kissed back with equal passion. He remembered this, this passion, this hunger, this desire to devour each other.

Spike backed up just a little. "You're sure you want me to go, now."

"I'm sure," Angel said.

"I could stay."

"Please don't."

"All right." Spike kissed him, kissed him again, bit his lower lip, and sauntered off, whistling, heading for the lift. Giles and Wesley looked shell-shocked. "Wesley, if you ever want to stop being innocent, you know where to find me," Spike said.

"Yes, well, it was good to see you again," Giles said. "I'm glad that you've figured out your situation. Call again if you need assistance."

"Thank you for coming," Wesley said. "We appreciate it." The two former Watchers shook hands; Giles left with Spike.

"Wesley," Angel said. "Before you go. Could you tell me why you can't tell me why you're immortal?" Immortal. Wesley was immortal. And, yes, it was possible for Wesley's head to be cut off - - what a grotesque idea - - in the line of duty. And there could be an explosion of some sort that would have the same effect. But Wesley, Wesley could live and heal and survive through much, for a long time. Angel might not have to watch him die.

"It's extremely personal," Wesley said. "I don't feel comfortable sharing. I don't think that it's a good idea to tell you."

"I won't ask again," Angel said.

"Thank you."

"I love you," Angel said. "And I won't bother you with that again, either."

"You love me?" Wesley asked. "You love - - you don't love me."

"I think that I do," Angel said defensively.

"You don't. You can't possibly. You were kissing Spike!"

"I love Spike, too."

"And Buffy. And Doyle."

"Buffy was complicated. She's young, she's the Slayer, she's confused, and I only made her life more difficult. Doyle was beautiful in every way, and gone too soon. Spike and I have had every possible relationship and emotion. Doyle's gone, Buffy and I have moved on, Spike and I... He has a new life now, he's working on a new world for himself, and I don't want to disturb it. I don't want to pressure him into something he's not ready to embrace. And then there's you. I'm in love with you, too. I know that I can't have you, because you don't like me, you're distancing yourself on purpose, and even if you did like me... I'd rather be shunned and miserable than have you accept me and risk happiness."

"You don't want me to like you."

"That's right."

"You know, Buffy's mortal and vulnerable, and Doyle's recently died. I'm immortal now. You don't think that that has anything to do with your sudden affection?"

"You can be killed, and it is possible that you will be in this line of work. I'll admit that knowing that you're immortal... It's a great relief. It's a wonderful gift. I don't understand it, and that worries me. I keep feeling that there are strings attached."

"My strings, not yours."

"Wesley, tell me. I want to understand. I want to help."

"You want sex."

"I can't have sex." It wasn't about sex! His feelings weren't about sex, his curse wasn't about sex, and Wesley damn well knew it!

"You can. You can go to Sunnydale and have Spike. You can even have Buffy."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Powers. They've made your soul permanent. The curse has been lifted."

"Why?"

"Doyle did petition them, before he died. They thought that your suffering would make you a better warrior for them. But they decided finally that making you happy, giving you something tangible to fight for, would-"

"Something to fight for? I have things to fight for."

"What do people fight for most?"

"Religion. Nationality. Fervorous mass causes-"

"In modern movies, then, what do people fight for?"

"Love."

Wesley nodded. "Love. You'll fight better if you fight for love, and you'll have a better love life if you can make love. And love makes you happy."

"Why didn't they decide this before he died?"

"They had another plan for you."

"What plan?"

"How can I put this and not sound like an arrogant jerk? I didn't know Doyle, you understand. He was here, he was given visions, he was to guide you in your fight, to help you to atone. You'd just come from Sunnydale and Hell and Buffy. Before Buffy you were disgusting and vile and eating rats in sewers; Whistler showed you Buffy. You had a reason to live, you shaped up and joined the good guys. But there was a lot of darkness and pain and general angst, and you were unhappy a lot of the time. Then you left her, you came here, you met Doyle."

"And he showed me how to live again."

"Exactly. You're lighter here, you smile, you leave the shadows. Doyle made you happy, Angel."

"He did," Angel agreed.

"And you made him happy. You gave him a purpose, you trusted him, you showed him he was more than a half-drunk half-demon. He became someone. He became a hero."

"He didn't have to die."

"It was his time. It was what he wanted."

Angel shook his head

"And now I'm here."

"Why?"

"The Powers have a plan for you. A plan for me."

"Tell me what it is."

"The first step is giving you your soul permanently, lifting the curse. Why don't you go to Sunnydale and resume your reunion with Spike?"

"Wesley. Wesley!" But Wesley just left.

Angel wasn't going to go to Sunnydale. He and Buffy were finished. He and Spike, well, he'd always love Spike, and Spike would always love him, no matter who they were. They were too much a part of each other for it to be any other way between them, down deep, no matter what else occurred. But now his life was about something else, and his love was for Wesley. His lust was for Wesley. He could make love with Wesley. Except, of course, for the obvious fact that Wesley didn't like him.

What wasn't Wesley telling him?

Cordelia knew whatever it was, or at least some of it. He could get her to tell him.

The next day he was sitting in the shadows in his office, brooding, when he heard Wesley come in and talk to Cordelia. They lowered their voices and held a long, hushed conversation. He resisted the strong temptation to listen.

His soul was permanent. Locked in place. His to keep. His soul belonged to him again. He wanted to pet it. He was in love with it. He could love, now, he could make love. He didn't risk losing his soul, losing his sanity, becoming Angelus: cruel, calculating, manipulative, sadistic, evil. Angelus was evil.

"Wesley!"

Angel was on his feet and through the doorway at Cordelia's cry.

"No, no, I'm perfectly all right," Wesley said, straightening, hold up a hand. "A group of children on a school trip, three vampires, the men's room of the Lavie Gallery."

"How old?" Angel asked. "The kids."

"Young," Wesley said. "The small cuddly kind. We'll have to head them off before they ever get there. Otherwise they'll be traumatized for life, no doubt."

"Let's go," Cordelia said.

"All right, you two go now," Angel said. "I'll take the underground route." They distributed the standard weapons, and he took off through the sewers and the shadows. He surfaced a block away and ducked and ran, managing to make it inside the gallery unsinged. He found Cordelia at the front desk.

"There are three field trips here today," she told him. "Wesley's scouting the bathrooms to figure out which one we want. There's one group already here, and two more are coming in half an hour. I'm trying to get this guy to tell me how old the kids are, so we can narrow it down some."

"Good work," he said, impressed.

"The first group's in the cafeteria, having lunch or something. You might want to check them out a little. Don't interact, don't lurk and stare and make them suspicious. Tell you what, I'll do it. Beautiful young women are a lot better than big scary lurking men for this sort of work. You go find Wesley." Cordelia left him. A moment later, Wesley was there. Wesley held a quick conversation with the man behind the counter, and got the answers Cordelia hadn't managed to get: one group of kindergarten children, one nursery school field trip, and a group of fifth graders.

"The kindergarten group is the one here already," Wesley said. "We can rule out the fifth graders."

"You know which bathroom it is?" Angel asked.

"I believe that it's the one in the east wing," Wesley said. "The question is, how do the vampires get in here? If we can keep them from entering the building at all - - or do they hang out in the bathroom waiting for snacks to arrive?"

"I'll wait by the bathroom. You walk around and look for them."

Angel walked to the appointed bathroom, checked inside, checked for alternate entrances, waited in the hallway, wandered away a little, wandered back again, checked inside again. They could come in through the ceiling or the window if they chose.

Wesley came to him. "The nursery school children are here. Cordelia's staying with the kindergarteners."

"Good. Did you recognize any of the children?"

"I believe that I saw the nursery school boys in my vision, but I assume that vampires aren't choosy; if they want young children, they'll take any young children, so neither group is safe."

Angel nodded. "That's true."

"Now, we can't keep them out of the bathrooms indefinitely, because they are young children and they will have to go at some point. And if it seems that we're staking out this bathroom, the vampires might notice and go to another. Therefore, I propose that I stay with the nursery school children and you float from group to group and bathroom to bathroom."

"And if the attack comes here while I'm across the building?"

"You'll hear the screams and come running," Wesley said.

"Maybe I should stay with the nursery school kids-"

"Angel, you are large and brooding. You'll only scare them. I'm a tidy young Englishmen who's already established a rapport with the head teacher."

"I don't scare kids." At least Wesley wasn't insinuating, as Cordelia had, that he'd be seen as a pervert or pedophile or something horrendous. Being a vampire was one thing; being a pedophile was just...too sick and wrong even for him. "Why don't we just tell the teachers that there's a known child molester in the gallery and that the kids should go back to school?"

"The buses have gone and won't be back for hours. They can't call the buses back because the bus drivers are driving other kids to other functions in the meantime. The kids are stuck here, and asking them not to use the facilities would be cruel."

"How do you know all of this stuff?"

"I ask questions and pay attention. Being alert is always informative."

Angel wandered through the gallery time and again, checking on the kids, checking on the bathrooms. As he went from the west wing to the east, he came across the two groups colliding in front of the bathrooms. The kids were lining up to use the toilets, and Wesley and Cordelia were offering to check the bathrooms first to make sure that they were ready for use and free of anything non-kid-friendly. Angel didn't know what they meant by that, maybe graffiti or something? It was a clean, formal gallery, so he didn't know what the teachers expected them to find, but apparently it was a good child safety practice not to send a group of kids into a bathroom unescorted, which made sense. At any rate, he watched Wesley step into the men's room.

Wesley came out immediately, barely poking his head in first. Wesley held the door shut with one hand and had a brief, very firm conversation with the head teachers of both groups. The teachers turned and spoke quietly with the children, who groaned and giggled and all lined up for the women's restroom, girls first, guys second.

Wesley looked around and saw Angel. "Excuse me, sir!" Wesley called. Angel walked over casually. Wesley said quietly, "Pretend that I'm telling you that there are a man and woman engaged in an improper sexual situation in the bathroom, and that we're going to go in to tell the couple that such behavior is inappropriate for a public place with children nearby."

"Is there anything in there?"

"My guess is, three adult male vampires."

"Guess?"

"I smelled them."

"How could you-"

"Believe me, no living human would smell like that."

"Do I smell like that?"

"Could we kill the vampires and get back to how you smell later? We have to hurry or they might leave." Wesley opened the door and stepped inside; Angel followed immediately.

Well, Wesley was right; they smelled. They dropped out of the stalls, grinning. Wesley pulled out a stake and said, "Now, let's keep this clean and quiet. I don't want to disturb the children."

"Then don't scream," the one said.

"I never really mastered the art of the snappy comeback," Wesley said. "That was more Buffy's style."

"Buffy? The slayer?" one asked.

"We used to work with her," Wesley said. "Well, really, she worked for me."

"Who are you?"

"I won't bother to impress you, because I'm going to kill you and you won't be able to spread my reputation," Wesley said.

"Who's he?"

"Surely you've heard of the Scourge of Europe," Wesley said.

"Angelus?" "He's gone soft." "He's gone good."

"Does he look soft to you?" Wesley asked. When they were distracted with looking over Angel, Wesley slammed home his first stake. The other two attacked. Angel got one, then got the other from behind as it jumped Wesley.

Wesley rolled his right shoulder and put a hand to his face, glancing toward the mirrors. He didn't seem to notice Angel's lack of reflection. He watched himself heal. "Excellent." He tucked his stake away and said to Angel, "Thank you for your assistance. Now let's get out of here."

They exited the bathroom, spoke briefly with the teachers, collected Cordelia, and left.

While Wesley was looking over books, Angel asked Cordelia back to his private office. "I want to ask you something that's none of my business."

"Go ahead." She seated herself comfortably.

He leaned back against his desk, crossing his ankles, leaning on his hands. He felt awkward and stupid. He was only embarrassing himself. "You've kissed Wesley."

"Three times."

"What's it like?"

"Why are you asking? Besides the obvious."

"Wesley said that my soul's permanent now. That I can't lose it again. Now, he could be lying, but I don't know why he would."

"You can have sex now?"

"Yes."

"Without turning evil."

"Yes."

"That's a relief. So you want to have sex with Wesley."

"Yes."

"How does he kiss? Well, the first kiss was bad, but that was just... We weren't compatible. We didn't fit. I don't know. It didn't work. The second two were me trying to give him visions. So it wasn't like there was a lot of romance and tongue or anything. It was business. Like mouth-to-mouth. But he has nice lips, soft and pink and everything. And he tastes like...sugar. Very sweet. And he has good teeth, nice teeth, especially for someone English."

"Thanks."

"So, what, you're going to have sex with him now?"

"No, I can't. He doesn't want me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know why not."

"It could be that you're a dead vampire guy, formerly really evil, drinking blood-"

"It could," he said curtly.

"Or he could be straight."

"He's bisexual."

"And he doesn't mind you telling everyone? And you wonder why he doesn't like you."

"You're not helping."

"Look. All you have to do is ask him. Personally, I think that he likes you. I don't know whether he's completely forever in love with you or just wants to get in your pants, but either way you'll get laid. Are we done here?"

"I hope so."

"Good." She went back to her desk.

Angel sat and brooded some more. He could have sex. He wanted sex. He wanted sex with Wesley. How could he get it? Wesley hadn't been very forthright so far about liking him or wanting him. He pretty much had to guess what Wesley felt. They worked together, and it was "together" more and more, not just Angel and a researching sidekick. Wesley hadn't come right out and confessed a passion for Angel, but Wesley hadn't denied interest either. Angel kept getting questions and non-answers and accusations and more questions. Wesley doubted his feelings, and wasn't confessing to feeling one way or another.

He'd touched Wesley. Touched Wesley's pale tight silky skin. He'd only run his fingers down Wesley slowly, nothing overtly aggressive or blatantly sexual, but it had been erotic, it had been sexual, tantalizing, a tormenting touch - - so much that it was more than he'd expected, but so little that it was far less than he wanted.

"Angel!" Cordelia called. "Phone call!"

He came out to her desk and accepted the receiver with a word of thanks and a quick under-the-lashes glance at Wesley, who was strolling to sit on the sofa with a book. "Hello?"

"Hard to find good help these days, isn't it? You'd better teach your chick some phone manners if you want to keep any clients, pet."

"Spike?"

"Gotta make it quick. Just wanted to ask you if you've shagged Watcher Boy yet."

"Not yet."

"Losing your touch? Come on, Angel, you don't have to be happy about it. Just lie back and think of England."

"I can be happy now."

"What?"

"My soul's permanent. The Powers That Be have granted it to me."

"Nice of them. Too bad, though; means you'll never be the villain you once were."

"I'm not sorry to see Angelus go."

"I'll miss him. He was one great shag."

"I still can be."

"Want to come prove it to me?"

"I don't know. Now that you've been neutered-"

"Hey! Watch it!"

"I'll give you a tip, though. If you want sex."

"Yes?"

"I'm gone, but Xander's still there."

"Are you making this recommendation from personal experience?"

"God no."

"That wolf boy would have made one sweet piece. Maybe I'll go track him down."

"Don't even think about it. Oz is special."

"Spare me the tender moments, Angel. Save that for Watcher Boy. And the next time I run into you, tomorrow or in another twenty years, I want to hear that you've given him the shag of his life. One of us has to get some."

"I'll work on it."

"Think he'd let you suck his blood?"

"I...don't..."

"You can't tell me you haven't thought about it. Only drinking cows' blood with that tasty treat right there, you must have fantasized about it. You probably have a hard-on right now. Do you?"

"I'm hanging up on you now."

"Love you too." Spike hung up on the other end.

Angel set down the receiver and Wesley stood. For a brief, passing second, Angel pictured putting his hands on Wesley, ripping open Wesley's shirt, exposing that long tight pale chest, running his hands over it, hands unfastening Wesley's belt while his mouth found Wesley's neck-

Knock. The door opened.

"Kate," he said, and his voice wasn't in the right register. He tried again. "Kate. You need something?"

"I killed something and I want to know what it was."

"Can you describe it for us?" Wesley asked. "Physical characteristics, any unusual abilities or traits."

"Larger than a normal man. Dark brown, sort of reptilian hide. Too many teeth. Its fingernails were like six-inch switchblades, but only on the left."

"Did you see its blood? Was it white or blue?"

"I don't know, we were in the dark... I'd say dark, not white, more like thick black."

"Mm." Wesley sorted through the bookcase, found a tome, flipped through it. "All right, how's this one?" He showed her the diagram.

"God, that's it. What was it?"

"Kayura. I don't know what it did, but according to this you were right to kill it; it's certainly a danger to society. Where did you kill it and what have you - - oh, yes, they explode when killed. No body disposal."

"Gross but convenient," Cordelia noted.

"Thanks," Kate told Wesley. "I have to get going. I have to file some sort of report on what happened."

"Glad to be of help," Wesley said. "Stop by any time."

"Bye. Cordelia. Angel." Kate slipped through the door.

"Time for me to go, too," Cordelia said. "I'll see you both tomorrow for more insanity and violence and exploding demons." She gathered her belongings and left.

Wesley cleaned up the books. "Time to call it a night, apparently."

"You don't have to go."

"The alternative, I assume, is for me to stay," Wesley said, shelving a book.

Angel came up behind him, close to his body, inches from Wesley's back. Angel's hand closed over Wesley's as Wesley released the book. "Stay."

"I realize that you must be relieved to be able to have sex again, and I'm sure that I'm happy for you, but wouldn't you rather have someone else?"

"No. I want you." Wesley's neck was close, so close, too close. His left hand came to Wesley's right shoulder, tugged aside the collar of Wesley's shirt, exposed Wesley's neck further to his gaze, to his touch. He smoothed his fingers over Wesley's skin, then leaned in closer, as close as he could, pressing his lips to Wesley's neck, inhaling, eyes closing as his hand on Wesley's twined their fingers together, pressing palm to palm. He kept forgetting how warm humans were.

"Angel, have you eaten recently?"

"I won't hurt you."

"I don't know about that."

"Trust me."

"Yes, trust the nice vampire with his face on my neck." Wesley turned; now Wesley was backed against the bookcase and their joined hands were resting behind Wesley, Angel's arm around Wesley's waist. Angel looked into Wesley's eyes.

"I love you."

"You loved Buffy and Doyle. One killed you, the other's dead. The other love of your life is Spike. Your track record sucks, Angel, and you know it. You want to avoid pain, so you've fastened your obsession where you know you're at no risk."

"At no risk?"

"You don't love me and you never will. And you know that I'm no threat to you, emotionally or physically."

"I want you. Tell me you want me."

"What good will it do?"

"We'll get sex."

"That's all?"

"Just sex. One time, if that's all you want."

"One night, just sex."

"Yes."

"That's all."

"Yes."

"No blood."

"All right."

Angel's head spun. What?

"You go eat something. Meet me in your bedroom."

What? Angel's brain wasn't working right, and his hearing was dim. "No. Wait."

"What?"

"I can't... I can't do that. I can't have you just once and then never again. And it's more than sex, it would be for me no matter what."

"Yes or no?"

"No. I can't."

"Good night, then." Wesley removed Angel's hands and walked away, leaving the office. He'd been close, very close; he'd had Wesley in his grasp, he'd had Wesley within seconds of getting into his bed, and now...now he was alone again. No Wesley. Empty bed, empty hands, empty heart. He'd almost had it all.

Almost.

He didn't sleep well. He spent the whole next day watching Wesley, ogling, staring, undressing Wesley with his eyes, mentally running his hands over Wesley's body and under Wesley's clothes. He stood too close just to breathe Wesley's scent, trying to feel Wesley's body heat. He was obsessed and he wasn't hiding it well.

In the past, as Angelus, he would have handled this obsession quite decisively. He would have killed off all of Wesley's family and friends, especially rivals for his affection. He would have seduced Wesley, or just raped and fed and moved on to another victim. But now, with his obsession tempered by sanity and a soul, he mooned after Wesley like a lovestruck adolescent. A horny lovestruck adolescent.

Wesley sank to the sofa suddenly, sitting as though the alternative were to fall to the floor. Angel was there immediately, on the floor, kneeling between Wesley's thighs. "Wesley?"

Wesley collapsed against the back of the sofa, head tipped back, neck exposed, body a long line from neck to pelvis. Angel was fascinated by the possibilities of that arch. He tried to drag his mind back to the issue at hand. "Wesley?"

"It hurts," Wesley said softly, eyes closed.

He put a steadying, comforting hand to Wesley's abdomen. Human body heat seeped through the expensive cloth, warming his hand. His hand fisted, pulled, rubbed, tugged; he wanted more, wasn't sure whether he could take it. His indecisive hand rubbed a thumb over a button and opened Wesley's shirt a bit. That kicked him into gear; with two hands he untucked and unbuttoned Wesley's shirt, pushing it back, pushing up Wesley's undershirt, trying to expose Wesley from neck to waistband. His thumb rubbed over a nipple now. Naked, Wesley was naked. But not naked enough. He wanted more naked. With a low growl he leaned forward, pressing his face to Wesley's abdomen, inhaling Wesley's scent. Sweat, salt, cologne, the possibility of blood, the faint and tantalizing promise of musk. One hand moved to Wesley's other nipple; his left hand went up to stroke Wesley's neck while his tongue licked over Wesley's navel. Oh god the taste-

"Hello! I am still in the room and he's practically unconscious!" The words barely registered at all before something hit him. Literally. He jerked away and fell on his butt in a very uncharacteristic sprawl. He looked up, dazed, to see Cordelia wielding a volume on demons that she'd used to whack him over the head.

Wesley's eyes opened. "Angel?"

"Wesley?"

Wesley sat up straighter, looking stunned and confused.

"You had a vision?" Cordelia asked.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the office," Angel said. "Are you all right?"

"Angel."

"Oh my god," Cordelia said.

"Doyle?" Angel asked, and his eyes filled with tears. He hadn't cried since...since...

"Angel. Hello, Cordelia. Good to see you again. Beautiful as ever."

"Doyle," Cordelia said. "Angel, why is Doyle's voice coming out of Wesley's mouth? Is he speaking in tongues or something?"

"This is a nice body," Doyle said, running his hands over himself. "Sharp dresser, too. More your style than mine, I must say," he told Cordelia. "The two of you should go shopping sometime. I think he has a better body than I did, and that's just not fair."

"Doyle," Angel said.

"Dare I ask why you were pawing all over the poor fellow before I got here?" Doyle asked.

"Is there some reason this is happening?" Cordelia asked.

"Down to business, then," Doyle said. "This is my one time only visit. I won't be back again, and I have to leave soon anyway. I'm just here to say hello to Cordelia - hello, princess."

"Hello, Doyle," she said softly. "You've made me cry enough already; I'm not crying today!"

"You're a terrible liar," he said. "And, Angel, I'm just here to make sure you're not ruining everything with this guy Wesley."

"Ruining everything?" Angel asked.

"You should've had him by now, Angel. What's taking you so long?"

"I should have...what?"

"He's getting visions now, right? And he's immortal. And you have your soul. So you fall in love with each other, sex happiness love forever happily ever after the end."

"I do love him."

"So what's the hold-up?"

"I can't have him."

"He's yours. Have him."

"Mine?"

"He's yours. He belongs to you. He's yours for eternity. The catch is that you're his, too. So I hope that you two get along, because what with the visions and the immortality and The Powers taking an interest and you two being meant for each other soulmates forever, it'll be a long ride."

"Meant for each other? The Powers? You mean that this, all of this - - he gets the visions now, and he's immortal, so that he'll be with me?"

"Yes. He loves you. It's your one chance at happiness and love. You can have him. You can keep this one, Angel."

"Mine."

"Yours."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Eyes closed.

"Doyle?" Cordelia asked.

Eyes opened.

"That was insane," Cordelia said. "He comes back from the dead in Wesley's body to tell you to have sex with Wesley? Why isn't anyone telling Wesley about this? He's the one stopping you."

"Angel?"

"Wesley," Cordelia said. "So. Hi."

"I met Doyle."

"So did we," Cordelia said.

"He kissed me."

"Damn," Cordelia said. "The boy gets around."

"He kissed you?" Angel asked.

"Jealous?" Cordelia asked Angel. "And of which one of them?"

"Why is my shirt open?" Wesley asked, tugging down his undershirt.

"Angel did it," Cordelia said.

"You were touching me," Wesley said. "My... I felt dizzy and I sat down and you touched me, and then I was somewhere else...with him..."

"I'm sorry," Angel said. "I had no right to touch you."

"Would you mind if I went home?" Wesley asked.

"Yes," Cordelia said. "What if you get a vision? What if we need you? What if someone needs our help and you're the only one who knows some weird potion spell chant thing?"

"Cordelia, please, I'm really rather tired-"

"Angel's apartment is right downstairs. You just run down and take a nice nap. We'll call you when disaster strikes."

"I-"

"Listen, you're the immortal who gets visions. We need you here. So get your little English butt downstairs and get some rest so that you'll be all fresh and perky for when the demons come to kill us or the exploding ghosts come or whatever we're having this week."

"Perhaps I'll just go make myself some tea," Wesley said, and rose, buttoning his shirt, leaving the office.

"Doyle," Cordelia said. "Doyle was here."

"I wish we could have seen him," Angel said.

"It's hard enough letting go," Cordelia said. "Seeing him again would only make it harder."

"Is it true? Wesley and I are supposed to be together?"

"Well, the Jedi kept babbling about soulmates, the cursed and the blessed, soulmates soulmates yadda yadda yadda. So my guess would be, yes. You're supposed to be with Wesley. Hello, they gave him the visions so he'd have to stick with you. They let you have sex, they made him immortal so he can live forever like you if he's lucky. They've done everything but rent you a hotel room. Get with the program here."

"I'm in love with him."

"With Wesley? Well, that's good news, after The Powers went to all of this trouble."

"Does he love me?"

"I should hope so. Angel, it's not like he just shouts out his feelings. But would The Powers make you love just one more person that you can't have? That would be cruel, and they've been cruel enough to you already."

Two hours passed without note. Angel spent most of that time pacing around the office until Cordelia finally said, "Would you just go downstairs?!"

"I shouldn't leave. You might need-"

"Go!"

"I'll just go check on Wesley," Angel said, and ran.

In Angel's apartment, Wesley was lying fully dressed on the sofa, curled on one side, asleep and looking terribly uncomfortable. Angel backed up to lean against the wall, watching, arms crossed. He watched and waited without moving until Wesley stirred.

"Feeling better?"

Wesley fell off of the sofa. "Bloody - - don't do that."

"Sorry."

Wesley stood, dusting himself.

"I love you," Angel said, "and we belong together. Not because The Powers are playing with us. Not because you have visions and I'm atoning. Because I love you. Because you're smart and naive and strong and English and sexy."

"Angel-"

"But The Powers That Be are interfering here. And I thank them. Now, for the first time, maybe I can have someone. Be with him. Stay with him this time, and have him stay with me. There are no guarantees. Maybe you will die tomorrow, or maybe I'll be killed. That's always a risk, Wesley. And maybe something will happen, maybe we'll be torn apart, driven apart. I had to give up Buffy, and Doyle was taken from me. I'm keeping you."

"What if I say no?"

"I won't give up. I can't."

Wesley's chin lifted, preparing to be stubborn. Angel lowered his own head, calculating, menacing, looking up at Wesley from lowered eyes. Wesley's jaw set. Angel's eyes narrowed. Wesley pursed his lips. Angel flashed to game face and back so quickly it was almost a blur. "I choose to believe," Wesley said, "that you won't rape me. Which means that you'll be confined to harassing me and pressing your suit at every opportunity. You will pardon me if I do not respond favorably to that notion. I suggest, once again, that if you insist on love and sex, that you return to Spike in Sunnydale and leave me alone."

"Why don't you like me?"

"I do like you, Angel. If I didn't like you, I would have left long ago. I like you, I respect you, I even admire you. It's been a gift to me to be able to be your...working companion, even a...friend."

"But you don't want me."

"I don't want to be the victim of a broken man's obsession. You've loved and lost three times over, and the last was the man whose place I'm now occupying. I know that I can't take Doyle's place, and you know it, so stop taking your grief out on me."

"I'm not doing that," Angel said. "I know that no one can take his place. Doyle was special, more than special, he was beautiful and so easy to love... And I did love him, and I always will. I am not broken. I have never been stronger. I have a purpose, and I have my soul back, and I'm making a good life for myself, a real life, for the first time in a long time. The only thing missing is you."

"I'm in your life."

"And you're in my soul. But you're not in my bed."

"If all you want is sex-"

"All I want is you. God, did I just say that? It sounded so corny."

"You're in love with me. Forever?"

"Forever."

Silence.

Angel waited.

"I'll be going home now," Wesley said. "It's late."

"See you tomorrow."

Wesley nodded and left.

matthew@matthewtime.com
"Angel" Part Three: Tomorrow
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