Title: Oracle Nights
Author: Alizarin (alizarin_nyc)
Fandom: Angel

Pairing: Angel/Wes S1 or S2 of Angel
Rating: NC-17
Written for: entrenous88, for the ìSchmangst-athonî (sponsored by entrenous88 and wesleysgirl on Live Journal.)
Notes: Set after "Five by Five" goes somewhat AU for "Sanctuary." Reference to future events
Words: 10,000+
Summary: "Iím dreaming too," Angel said. He didnít know where this was going, only that heíd dreamt while still awake, and in that dream it was raining fire. Now he felt hot and strung out. He knew he wasnít himself, but he sensed that Wesley wasnít either. Werenít these moments always better when you werenít in your right mind?

Oracle Nights

Angel returned to pick up the pieces of Wes.

His face and his speech were fragmented. Like heíd lost his mind along with his blood. Angel didnít like seeing him like this, but he realized that it was a necessary step in the evolution of Wes, and in the breaking and rebuilding of Faith.

Angel could see the future, except for all his blind spots.

Angel left Wes on his own already far too long while he comforted Faith and eventually saw her safely tucked in a squad car. He watched the pale red lights recede and returned to his regular life, the one with Cordy at her desk and Wes hovering nearby. He figured no one but the four of them needed to know anything more about what Faith had done to Wesley.

When he returned to the office he had a strange phone message from Wesley. It sounded like he was drugged, or being throttled. When Angel arrived at Wesí apartment, there was no answer at the door and so he broke it open with a kick. God, he loved to do that.

He was surprised by the amount of blood around Wesleyís easy chair, but not by the sight of Wes slumped near the chair, unconscious, or very nearly so. There had been more damage done than Wesley had let on. Angel knew this from instinct, knew that Wes would push himself to appear less harmed, knew that this would likely be the result.

Angel stood near him, taking a deep breath of the scent of blood and scarred skin. He wanted to run his tongue over Wesleyís sliced-up face, but these were the sorts of urges he never let surface completely. Not now. Faith had done a cruelly sure job and Angel resisted the temptation to pick up where she had left off. That temptation was a tiny thing, a thing that crawled around in the back of his brain and he was big enough to squash it. Instead, he patted Wesí face and Wes came to, gibbering and jabbering and letting Angelís sure hands guide him up and away from the spare apartment.

He should have insisted on a longer stay in the hospital for Wesley. He had seemed fine just after the incident with his pain pills and bandages but now, from the look of him, his wounds had opened up and some of his limbs were strained and immobile. And he wasnít even remotely coherent.

Wesí head would not remain upright, so Angel propped him up against his shoulder as he drove home. Wes would have to stay with him for a few days, just to be sure. Angel winced at the thought of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce sitting up in his bed balancing a tea cup, and sweetly asking Angel for milk, but maybe he could get Cordy to handle it. She would want to know that Faith was imprisoned and no longer a threat to the denizens of Greater Los Angeles.

He rang up Cordy on the cell phone. At first he thought heíd screwed up again and dialed the wrong number. She was frantic, her words spilling all over themselves and out into Angelís ear where he tried to herd them into some sense. Sheíd had a vision. Not a painful, premonitory one this time, but more of a message from the Powers. Her visions were taking a vacation, apparently. Theyíd be back, but for a few days things were going to be a bit screwy. It wasnít exactly clear.

ìIsnít this kind of, well, good news for you, Cordy?î

ìNo headaches, sure,î her voice continued, ìBut the visions are still going to be out there, floating around and other people may end up as receptacles.î

ìIím just not following you.î Angel swerved to miss a car pulling out in front of him and Wesleyís head shifted off his shoulder. ìCordy, this is a very bad time.î He pulled Wes back up and jostled the cell further under his chin.

ìWell sorry to bother you with these life or death matters, but someone may be getting our visions while theyíre on cruise control and that could be dangerous.î

ìWhy again are the visions going on walkabout?î Angel was really trying to concentrate.

ìMy vision seemed to indicate something about Mercury Centigrade. I donít know what that is exactly but it sounds like maybe the temperature is going to rise?î

ìLetís discuss it later, okay? If you hear of anything strange, call me right away but right now I have to deal with something else.î

Cordy rang off in a huff.

The blood continued to invade Angelís senses. He was anxious to get Wesley inside and into a tub. He half carried, half dragged him inside. Once the tub was filled with warm water, however, he had another dilemma. Was he going to undress the guy and bathe him? He shook Wes until he got eye contact.

ìWes. Can you wash yourself?î

ìIíll try,î Wesley stuttered, and pawed Angel away as he leant down over the side of the tub. Seated on the edge, he began to strip what was left of his shirt away.

ìIíll just be right outside the door, okay?î Angel said. He backed away slowly, and shut the door, leaving it open just a crack. He stood there soundlessly. He could hear Wesleyís sharp intake of breath each time he attempted to remove another piece of blood-soaked shirt. He was still bleeding from his cuts a day later. A number, Angel thought. Faith did a number on him. He spared a thought for her as he envisioned her going through processing. Her mug shot. Fingerprinting. Holding cell.

A noise - a bang - from inside the bathroom. Angel swept open the door and sure enough, Wesley was lying on his side on the floor. His shirt was off, his jeans still on.

ìOkay, Wes, look. I am going to take your jeans off. I donít want to bother Cordy this late at night.î

Wesí eyes begged him not to bother Cordy.

ìOkay, so we have to do this ourselves. I canít dress your wounds until we get you cleaned off. So, jeans off. Just lift your hips and help me as much as you can, okay?î

The pain in his eyes said all Angel needed to know. Wesley was this close to passing out and then heíd be no help at all. Wesley lifted his hips and looked at Angel. God, he was so vulnerable. Angel knew vulnerable. No one was more vulnerable when they were bleeding, naked and begging for their life. He hadnít known that look from Wesley and it was totally unexpected. He felt his soul tug free from its moorings and drift toward the shore. ìOkay,î he said softly. ìIíll take care of you, donít worry.î

Wesley seemed to accept this and Angel pulled his jeans away from his body as quickly as possible. Once he was just in his boxers, Angel put his arms under him and lifted him into the tub. Wesley hissed loudly as the water burned his wounds. His eyes watered and he pressed his lips together in a grim firm line. Angel admired that he didn't cry out.

ìYou tell me, Wes,î Angel said, ìI wash, or you wash.î

ìAngel, please, if you could.î Again, the look of vulnerability, of pleading, the please donít kill me, that Angel knew so well. He wanted to help, that was what he did now. He stopped the bleeding and the healed the hurt. He was The Champion.

ìYes, okay. Hold still.î It was just business. Champion business. He took the washcloth heíd laid out and set the hydrogen peroxide nearby. ìNothing to it, really, Wes. Just keep your eyes on me and donít pass out.î

He got a grin for that. ìYeah,î Wes said, ìThereís no crying in baseball.î

Angel shrugged, ìWhatever you say.î He began washing the wounds, taking careful notes at Faithís technique. He had to live a long life and she was a vampire slayer. She might come back to haunt him one day and it was always good to know your opponents. And your friends. It would be good to know Faithís weak points, and he intended to use Wesí recap of the night as research. That would come later.

For now, he patiently cleaned the wounds she had made; wounds that would not heal any time soon. Wes made crooning sounds, his eyes leaking at the corners, but he didnít scream. ìSorry I have no pain killers handy,î Angel offered. ìIíve got whiskey however.î

This perked Wesley up and he greedily drank down the tumbler Angel gave him. Out of the bath, he was able to strip off his boxers while Angel turned away and towel himself dry. Angel applied the bandages with more care than he thought he was capable of. Wes turned to him gratefully.

ìI donít know how to thank you.î

ìNo thanks necessary, you know that.î

ìStill, I -- ì Wes paused, seeming to have more to say. ìWhat Faith did.î It was a statement not a precursor. Angel understood.

ìShe crossed a line. She ripped me open.î Wesleyís voice faltered.

ìLetís talk about it tomorrow. You sleep in my bed, Iíll take the couch. Faith has been arrested, youíve nothing to fear.î

ìSheís not what I fear.î

Wes turned away, his shoulders shaking slightly, but still held stiffly back. The man must have had a kite inserted under his skin to maintain posture like that. Angel thought about that for a moment; what it would be like to unfurl Wesley, to let him catch the wind and fly him high above the city.

What Angel really wanted was to feel distaste and pity for the man, but he found he couldnít. He resisted the sudden urge to embrace Wesley, to grab him roughly, take his face in his hands. But that would be crossing the line.

He settled for gripping Wesleyís shoulder. Man to man.

ìWes, get some sleep. Morning will make it all right again.î Angel spoke the human platitudes even though he was of the opinion that morning was the last thing that could ever make anything right. Night was right. But Wesley was a man and he had to offer something. ìYouíll be okay.î

He slept and dreamt intermittently of Wesleyís bare limbs in the tub, Faith with her glinting eyes and sharp tools and sheets of rain that turned to fire and burned them all.

Some time in the night he heard the sound of a baby crying. He woke to find the strange keening sounds were coming from Wesley. Angel jumped up, splashed whiskey into a glass and slipped into the bedroom. Wesley jerked awake, his bandages askew, and his face red with pain. Angel knew the look of pain and the power of it to cripple someone when it extended its visit.

ìWes, drink this.î Wesley turned his head like a child. Angel thrust the glass under his nose.

ìWes, I have nothing else for the pain. If itís that bad, I can bust into a drug store or a hospital.î Angel felt a sudden sense of frustration. ìTell me what to do.î

ìItís my back,î Wesley whispered, acquiescing and taking the drink. ìMy wrists and legs. Theyíre cramped from being tied up for so long.î He took a tentative sip. ìAnd from lying unconscious in my apartment I suppose.î He winced from the whiskey burn and then affected a motion of rubbing his hand along his thigh. Angel could see the movement causing his open wounds to suppurate.

ìI dreamt I was lying at the bottom of the ocean,î Wesley said. ìIt was strange. It was very beautiful, but I couldnít be with anyone that I cared about.î

ìJust a dream,î Angel said. ìLie still. Very still. Stop moving around.î Angel reapplied the bandages and then began to massage Wesí shoulders. He knew he wasnít good at care taking, he certainly wasnít known for his massage technique, but he aimed to try. He had to try. He took the pillow from Wesí head so he could lie flat and then tried to focus on Wesí muscles.

ìThatís not bad,î Wes admitted, his eyes shut tight.

Angel moved to his arms, rubbing each one in turn, massaging the wrists and fingers carefully. Wesley didnít stir. ìYou will tell me if I hurt you?î Angel asked.

ìYes.î

ìWould you like to turn over and Iíll...î Oh shit. Angel couldnít believe he was about to utter these particular words. ìRub your back?î

ìYes,î Wesley said again. Angel did most of the turning, but soon he had Wesley lying on his stomach and Angel again started from the shoulders and worked his way down to the small of the back. Wes didnít make a sound. Angel could feel the pads of his fingers as they met the human flesh and became warm. He was leaving his prints on Wesley and there was something soothing and even erotic about that. He usually marked others with a bite. Not now though. Now he marked no one and no one marked him. But he was pressing his fingerprints into Wesley, all over Wesley, and Wesley acquiesced. If Angel had a beating heart, it would be thumping now. As it was, he was feeling something he never thought he would feel about Wesley, the goofy, strange and sometimes surprising man that had wandered haphazardly into Angel Investigations. He wanted to press his lips to Wesleyís back, run his tongue along his spine, make whorl-shaped finger markings with his hands in other places.

ìWesley?î He whispered.

Wesley was asleep.

All the next morning Angel worked in the living room while Wesley slept. He filled Cordelia in vaguely, telling her that Wes had endured some injuries falling in his apartment while he was recuperating post-Faith. She wanted to see him, insisted, in fact, but Angel held firm and gave her some field work to do that may or may not have been related to her leaking visions and that kept her away all day. Angel tapped on the calculator and shook his head over the figures until he heard Wesley stir.

ìAny better today, Wes?î

ìThanks, yes,î Wesley croaked. He groaned as he moved, but he did look better. ìA number,î he said.

ìWhat?î

ìA number. Faith did a number on me.î

Angel smiled. ìHow about some soup? Or toast or something?î

ìYouíre sure youíre up to that sort of thing? Whereís Cordelia?î

ìI can handle soup and toast. Cordyís doing fieldwork. I didnít want to fill her in completely until we talked about it.î Angel moved in to the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

ìYes,î Wesley frowned. ìI have to say my initial reaction is that Cordy -- that no one know about this.î He paused, gesturing at himself lying in Angelís bed. ìOr see me like this.î

ìThen youíll do me a favor and stay here for a few days until youíve completely convinced me that youíre okay moving around on your own?î Angel kept his face neutral, but he felt a swimming sensation in the pit of his stomach. He was worried about Wesley, wasnít he? Was that what was going on? Since when?

ìIím sure Iíll be fine on my own,î Wesley said. Angel left it alone for the moment, but after Wesley had eaten something, he fell fast asleep until nightfall and then Angel casually informed him when he woke up that he couldnít move him because Angel had fieldwork of his own to do. Cordy had a date and was placated by Angelís reassurances that Wesley just needed some down time.

Angel returned sometime around midnight.

It had been fruitless fieldwork; no one knew anything about wandering visions. He went to the fridge for a long drink of blood straight from the pack. When he turned around again, he caught sight of something near the stairs. Wesley was lying unconscious, bleeding from the head, his hand gripping the first step as if he were trying to drag himself out of the apartment.

Angel was angry. What was wrong with this guy that he couldnít just accept help when it was needed?

He scooped Wesley up in his arms and swung around. He smelled something. God, Wesley had pissed himself, his bandages were bloody and his wounds were seeping.

ìTime for the hospital, jackass,î Angel said aloud.

Wesleyís eyes fluttered open. ìN-no hospitals.î

ìOh, there you are. Just taking a little nap were you? Going out for a beer and thought youíd grab a little shut eye on your way?î

ìAngel, I had a dream.î Wesleyís head lolled back over Angelís arm as Angel stopped halfway across the room and just glared at the man in his arms. ìThere was a woman, a sort of woman, but she was more of a snake. She bit me. Her teeth went all the way through. Here.î He pointed to his stomach. ìAll the way through. Out my back. She went after you. I had to warn you.î Wesleyís voice sounded strange and hollow; like he was impersonating himself.

ìA hallucination, Wes, thatís all it was. You have to stay in bed, you have to do what I tell you to do. There is no snake. Sheís locked away tight.î

ìCanít lock up a snake, Angel,î Wesley said, struggling to keep his head upright.

Angel took him into the bathroom. Again, it was the stripping dilemma. To strip or not to strip. That is the question. Angel chose to strip him. Wes was babbling incoherently about snakes and Angel was in no mood for him to fall all over himself again. He pulled up the t-shirt he had lent Wesley and threw it in the basket, now full of blood-covered clothing. Wesí arms folded in on themselves and he hung his head.

Angel put a hand on the short brown hair and gently pushed his head up. ìLet me help you, Wes, okay?î Angel said, looking into his eyes. ìNo big deal, just another bath for you and youíll feel much better.î

Wesley nodded. Angel pulled the string of the pajama bottoms heíd lent Wes, and pulled them off while Wesley stood, tottering. The soiled pants joined the rest of the laundry and Angel batted the lid over it. Something heíd deal with later. The bruises on Wesley were unbelievable and Angel just shook his head, swept Wesley up again like he was a child, and lowered him into the warm water. He kept the water running until it covered Wesley and then he dumped in some sort of shower gel. He started cleaning the cuts with peroxide. Wes was sitting slumped over and staring into space, hissing when the peroxide stung him.

ìHey.î Angel said, touching his chin for attention. Wesley looked up suddenly, realization dawning.

ìOh god, Angel, this is embarrassing. I am truly sorry.î His hands fluttered to his chest, before he realized that his chest was the least of his worries.

ìIíve seen it all before, Wes. Donít worry. If weíre not going to take you back to the hospital, weíve got to be more diligent about getting you taken care of here. Iíll do my best. If I canít, weíll get Cordy. Just work on, you know, relaxing.î

ìRelaxing,î Wes said, looking Angel in the eyes, and then looking down at himself. Angel refused to take the hint and grabbed a washcloth, more bandages and antiseptic. Wes rolled his eyes and laid his head back against the edge of the tub. ìIíd resist this, but I am so very weak.î

ìThatís a good boy,î Angel said with a smirk.

ìAgain, we arenít mentioning this to Cordelia?î

ìI donít see how you have anything to be ashamed of, but Iíll trust your judgment,î Angel was really smiling now. God, it was like he was flirting. How weird was that?

Wes even let Angel dry him off, which was even weirder, but kind of nice, and Angel didnít do anything unseemly. He didnít want to break Wesleyís trust and make him nervous. He got him settled in bed and then forced several glasses of water on him. He put a book by the bed in case Wes wanted to read. Then he made as if to say goodnight.

ìAngel?î

ìYeah, Wes? Wrong book?î

ìNo, no, itís fine. Itís perfect. I was just wondering. Well, I was thinking... that is, wondering...î

Angel felt relieved at this sign of the usual Wesley. Thank god, heíd be fine. ìAnything Wesley,î Angel found himself saying with undue warmth.

ìIf it isnít any trouble, and youíve gone to so much trouble already. But last night, you, well you massaged my back, and I was wondering if you could, just for a few minutes, it really helped...î

Angel moved to the bed and laid his hands on Wesí shoulders. ìNot a problem.î

It was nearly an hour later that Angel finally stopped rubbing Wesley. This time he had eased the cramps from his legs as well and Wes had sighed with gratitude. He eased his hands away and Wesley turned his head so he faced Angel. His eyes opened.

ìItís not a comfortable couch for sleeping. You should just sleep here.î

And then his eyes closed again and he drifted off. Angel waited several minutes and when Wesley didnít move, he moved closer, put his arm across Wesí back and laid his head on the pillow. He suddenly felt sleepy himself. And maybe just a little elated in a way he shouldnít be. This was just comfort.

Just comfort.

***

When he woke several hours later, he was holding Wes in his arms. He was keenly aware of the sharp difference in the body of the man and the body of the woman he had most recently held. Rebecca had been bony, birdlike; her rouged lips upturned to his face, her clear eyes focused on him with want. What she had wanted, however... When he thought about that, he thought about how he should have snapped her birdlike neck in two. The danger she put his friends in was nearly unforgivable. She was lucky he was a better monster than the one inside him that wanted to go back where she lived and cause some real havoc. Heíd held Rebecca for comfort, ostensibly, but there had been more than a hint of something else.

Holding Wesley was different. He was larger, he was muscular, yet softer than Rebecca, and how was that possible? Angel realized that he wanted Wesley. He didnít want the soft fluttery embrace and feminine beauty that Rebecca offered. He wanted to grip Wesley and make him want the same things. Lying there, he had to shift his body to hide his desire. How the hell would Wesley react? He couldnít afford to damage him any more, or scare him away. At the very least, he needed Wes for research and to help Cordy in the office. There was no going back to a two-man operation. Well, one vampire, one woman. Wes would never replace Doyle, but Doyle had left a substantial hole in the business and in Angelís life, and they needed to be filled. He needed Wesley.

And if Angel pressed against him now, and he reacted with shock or disgust? Well, that wasnít something Angel could work with. He released Wesley and moved away. It was time to get up anyway and get some work done. But he couldnít go prowling around the streets; what if Wesley woke up and needed him?

Angel moved to the couch in the other room but he didnít sleep. He sat and stared into the darkness. Dreams batted restlessly around inside of his skull. He didnít remember ever dreaming as vividly as he had been lately. Now, it was almost as if his mind wanted to dream even though he was awake.

Angel sat until day broke outside and he heard the distant sounds of real people moving in the real world.

When Wesley woke up and realized Angel was no longer there, he got up, moving in the dark, feeling his way around to the other room. He could see a little light filtering down from upstairs and Angelís large, brooding form in the shadows.

ìAngel?î There was no answer and Wes thought for a moment that heíd gone back a few days in time and it was Angelus sitting there, released by Rebeccaís drug, waiting for him.

Fast forward and Wes was again in Faithís chair, feeling all her pent-up violence screaming through him, down his back and everything in his head was breaking.

And the dream... the dream was of the snake and the snake had unnaturally blue eyes, and took away all that was innocent in the garden.

When Angel stood up and the shadows released his familiar face, Wes was so filled with relief, he stepped up to Angel and placed his hands on either side of his face. ìItís you,î he said. ìItís just you.î

Angel caught Wes just as his knees gave out. ìJust me, Wes.î Wesley turned up his face, his lips whispering Angelís name and Angel took a chance and let his lips brush across Wesleyís. Wesley straightened then and pulled back. Angel started to apologize, but it was dark and he couldnít see Wesleyís face, so he didnít have any cues. Then he felt something else take over and he didnít want to apologize at all.

A thought occurred to him. ìAre you asleep, Wes?î

ìYes, yes, Iím asleep,î Wesley replied, as if from far away. Then his face cleared and Angel could see his features sharpen in the dark and take on form. ìAnd I have been for some time,î he said. ìI think Iím ready to wake up now.î

He backed away, but Angel came after him, predatory. He could smell the other man, smell the dried blood and the dream-sweat.

ìIím dreaming too,î Angel said. He didnít know where this was going, only that heíd dreamt while still awake, and in that dream it was raining fire. Now he felt hot and strung out. He knew he wasnít himself, but he sensed that Wesley wasnít either. Werenít these moments always better when you werenít in your right mind?

And it was early morning, but so dark. Dark, the way he liked it best.

Angel slid his hand around Wesleyís neck and pulled him in close, exhaling across his cheek, inhaling at his neck, then letting his tongue run up around the edge of his ear. Wesley gasped and jerked away, then changed like a tide and pushed back against him and pressed his lips against Angelís. Angel opened his mouth and tasted Wesley; felt his head reel with the unexpected pleasure. He shoved Wesley back into the bedroom and Wesley drew him in at the same time. He pushed him onto the bed, breaking the kiss for a moment, then slid next to him and pressed his mouth again to Wesleyís neck.

ìOh god, Angel, oh god.î Wesley sounded anguished and surprised but Angel couldnít have stopped if Wesley had begged him to. He thrust his tongue into Wesleyís mouth and Wesleyís hands began to skim his back. ìGod, Angel, I am dreaming I am dreaming.î

And Angel stopped then because he suddenly needed to know. ìAre you with me Wes?î

And Wesley looked up at him, his eyes unfathomable in the darkness. ìTurn on the light.î

Angel did so and turned back.

Wes was breathing hard. The gash on his face was red and seemed to beat blood and Angel felt his hunger increase. He leaned forward before he could stop himself and licked the open wound, gently. Wes didnít move, just kept panting. Angel grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Wes still didnít move. Angel licked Wesí other wounds across his chest, neck, and finally Wes grabbed his head. ìStop.î

ìI donít want to stop, Wesley.î Angel lifted his head and placed his thumb on Wesleyís upper lip, right in the dip between his nose and lips and stroked down with his thumb. ìIím not going to stop.î

ìThere are things...î Wesley choked back something, his head still so as not to disturb the placement of Angelís thumb. ìThings Faith did.î

ìIíve seen, Wesley.î And it was true, Angel had seen. He hadnít said anything, but he knew there were sharp cuts along Wesleyís thighs where Faith had cut him and a strange bruise on his dick, almost like a bite mark. Angel didnít want to think that Faith had done something like that, but he knew vengeance and knew that it was a bottomless pit of depravity. Faith could fall into it just as anyone could. And Angel knew there was very little light at the bottom of that pit.

ìIf you want to talk about it, Wes,î Angel offered, moving his thumb around Wesleyís unshaven jaw, even though he had no plans for talking.

ìNo, Angel, I donít want to talk about it. I want you to know, so you know Iím not necessarily in my right mind at the moment. Iím weak.î

ìAm I taking advantage of you, do you mean?î

ìIím just saying itís possible.î

ìTell me what to do, then.î

Wesley sighed. ìKiss me again.î And he gave his permission and Angel shuddered with what felt like a derivative of joy. It was better now to take what was offered.

Angel brought his thumb back around to Wesleyís lips, stroking down and across. ìJust be sure, Wesley.î Before he could answer, Angel pushed his thumb into Wesleyís mouth, hooked it behind his lower teeth and dragged his mouth open. He ran his tongue along the curve of Wesleyís mouth, pulling down on his lower lip and spreading his hands and fingers to grip Wesí face. Wesley protested slightly and then began to give in, kissing Angel back.

Angel broke off the kiss and stood, quickly stripping off his clothes. Wes looked as if he were about to protest but Angelís hands were on him, again, firmly, and he pushed him back against the bed. Angelís thumbs found purchase in the waistband of the borrowed boxers and Wesley was wriggling under him, getting hard, but his eyes were still full of a strange fear.

ìTurn off the light,î Wesley said.

Angel reached over to click off the light and while he was there he retrieved some lube from the nightstand drawer. He was very eager and he slicked himself and Wesley in the dark quickly and without thinking.

ìAngel?î

ìIt will be okay, Wes, I wonít hurt you, I promise.î

ìPerhaps. But there are some things that tonight I just wonít do.î The Watcher voice spoke, so out of place in the bedroom of a vampire.

But Angel understood. ìShh,î he told Wesley. ìThereís nothing you have to do.î And he realized that Wesley was putting a very fragile trust squarely in his hands. As much as he wanted to flip Wes on all fours and fuck him senseless, the stable part of his brain told him to proceed another way.

He reached for Wesleyís dick and slid his palm up and down its length, until Wes moaned and bucked his hips. When he felt Wesleyís hips begin to rise rhythmically, Angel paused, reached for his own dick and then slid it in between Wesleyís legs. Wesleyís breath hitched and Angel murmured reassurances. It was slick and hot between his thighs and Angel maneuvered his dick vertically until it was flat up against Wesleyís balls. He pushed down and let the head of his dick slide in between Wesleyís ass and Wesley exhaled and drew his legs together, making a tighter space.

ìSee? No problem,î Angel whispered. Angel flexed his stomach muscles and concentrated on rubbing and teasing Wesleyís dick. Wesley moaned and thrust upward, sending Angel sliding back down between his legs. Angel fit his mouth to Wesleyís and moved faster, focusing on Wesley, pinning his dick between them until Wesley gasped and came, arching his back and squeezing Angel roughly. Wesley continued to buck and thrust and Angel rolled his hips, sliding his dick back and forth under Wesleyís balls, rubbing the head down and against his hole. They developed a rhythm and Wesley was crying out, scissoring his legs together to make more friction for Angel.

Angel wanted it to last longer, but Wes threaded his fingers through Angelís hair, brought Angelís head down and bit him hard on the lower lip. Angel came suddenly and helplessly, pulling back from the bite and burying his head in the other manís shoulder.

They lay panting for a few minutes until Wesley indicated he needed to breathe and Angelís weight was a hindrance. Angel rolled off and pulled the other man close to him.

ìAngel, Iíd like to ask you something.î Wes spoke into the darkness.

ìYes, anything,î Angel said, his hand caressing Wesleyís chest.

ìWhy didnít you kill Faith?î Wesleyís voice was hard and unforgiving in the dark and Angel moved away, reaching for the light on the other side of the bed. He clicked it and turned.

ìWhat the hell.î

Wesley regarded him with a level gaze. ìWhy didnít you kill Faith like she asked you to?î

ìFuck, Wes. We just -- we just.î We just made love, was what Angel would have said, but now he realized that that was not what had just happened. ìFuck you, Wes. I donít kill for sport. Not now. I donít kill slayers. Itís not just.î

ìAnd what happened to me was just?î Wesley spat out the words.

What had just happened? Angel felt his head spin with the illogic of this moment. He knew theyíd fight about Faith again, but christ! At this moment?

ìDo you know, Angel, that this is the first time Iíve had an orgasm since Faith?î

ìWhat?î Angel sputtered.

ìYes. It seems Iím everyoneís fuck toy these days. As part of her humiliation of me, she straddled me, got me hard, undid my fly and sucked me. Right as I came, she bit down.î

Angel just stared, speechless. Wesley was equating that with what they had just done? ìThat is so unfair, Wesley, to even think that I would do anything to hurt you. That I would do anything without your permission. God, I thought you wanted me as much as I wanted you! Are you playing sick sex games to get Faith out of your system?î

Wesley looked defiant. ìYou took in my torturer and gave her sanctuary. Payback is a bitch.î

ìYou donít know the half of it,î Angel breathed out. ìBut you will.î He stalked out to the living room, first locking the elevator and pocketing the key, and then going upstairs and yanking out the doorknob of the door that led to the office. He could kick down that door any day, but Wesley couldnít. And Wesley wouldnít be able to open the sewer hatchway until he had healed and was stronger.

Now they were locked in, together.

Heíd nurse that stupid ungrateful asshole back to health and make him pay for what he did tonight.

Angel fell asleep faster than he thought possible on the couch. He, for one, had had no recent orgasms, so he took advantage of the fact that his entire body felt relaxed. Except that he was really, incredibly angry.

He dreamed. First there was Buffy, who was chatting to him amiably and eating a cantaloupe. Then there was Spike, rather, William, on all fours, tied to a bedpost, begging for Angelus to fuck him. Spike turned into Xander and Xander was talking dirty to him, but he was wearing a tuxedo for some reason, and tied up with pink ribbons. Cordelia came in and found them together and she was extremely angry. She turned and he saw her in profile, and she was pregnant. As she yelled at him for corrupting Xander, her belly swelled huge and strange, but she seemed not to notice and Angel tried to get her attention, but couldnít. Finally, the thing burst out of her and it was large and purple and thick, with tentacles, and the tentacles moved closer to Angel and swept him up in their grip. They bent him and ripped him with tiny teeth, and he saw that Cordy was dead, Xander was dead, Spike was dead and the thing with the tentacles was swallowing the world, but taking his friends one at a time.

He woke, gasping and disturbed, flailing for space on the couch.

He immediately went into the bedroom and stripped the sheets off Wesleyís body. Wesley stirred slightly and Angel lifted his legs and removed the boxers Wesley had put back on. He kissed down the length of him and tongued his dick to life. Wesley groaned, waking up and getting hard, and Angel continued to suck and kiss and knead his hands into Wesleyís skin. He expected to be rejected, but Wesley thrust upward instead, then shouted and knotted his fingers into the bed sheets when he came.

Angel returned to the couch, despite the fact that Wes was speaking to him, questioning his sudden actions, trying to pretend he was angry about it. Angel ignored him and silenced him with a look as he slipped out of the room.

In the morning, Wesley tried to make an indignant exit and realized he was trapped. By the time he came out of the bathroom again, Angel had fixed toast and coffee and finally Wesley sat down, weary and weak, and began to eat. He pushed the crumbs around his plate with his crust and licked his fingers. Angel couldnít help but look at him. He stood at the counter, drinking blood from a mug, and quirked his eyebrows at his captive. He was oh-so-curious as to what Wesley would do next.

Wesley stood, finally, still wobbling on his feet. He took off his t-shirt, another loaner, obviously, and dropped it to the floor. He moved over to where Angel was standing and with all the strength he had to spare, pushed Angel up against the refrigerator.

ìHey, whoa, whatíre you doing?î Angel had not expected Wesley to make any kind of physical move. That was no way to win this game. But Wesley had other ideas in mind and he gripped Angelís crotch and began to rub. He worked Angelís fly open and pushed Angelís hands away when he tried to resist. But Angel really didnít want to resist, of course. He wanted Wesley, and he wanted to take him right here on his kitchen table. He was mad with desire and the look in Wesleyís eyes said the same.

Wesley dropped carefully to his knees and freed Angelís dick. ìOh god, Wes. What is this? What are you doing?î But Wesley wasnít speaking, he was swallowing. And for someone who quite possibly hadnít done this before, he was doing a very good job. He was kissing Angelís dick, he was stroking all the right places, mouthing him, gripping his ass and pulling him in. Angel was not one for the quick ending, but he found himself arching his back and banging his head against the freezer. He was so close. ìSo close, Wes,î he gasped. ìStop or Iíll...î But Wesley didnít stop, and Angelís head went back again, banged hard on the freezer door and he arched again and came. Wesleyís eyes opened wide, another clue that he was new to this particular game, and he jumped to the sink and spat.

ìNow, weíre even,î he said, clinging to the sink for dear life. ìLet me leave.î

Angel affected nonchalance as he buttoned his fly. ìYou donít go ëtil I say you go.î He swallowed the last of his blood from the mug and flung it into the sink. ìAnd I say you donít go.î

Wesley looked grim, but he limped back to the bedroom and shut the door.

Angel strode over to the door. He knocked. ìYou know, Wes, it doesnít have to be like this.î

ìOh really, Angel,î Wesleyís voice came weakly through the door. ìWhat, you like me? Youíre the only one around here that doesn't want to prey on me? That doesnít want tit-for-tat? I have a hard time believing that of you.î

ìWes, I know you think you canít trust anyone, but you said you trusted me. I would never hurt you, how many times do I have to say it?î

ìMany.î

ìLetís talk,î Angel said, thinking that he hadnít heard himself say that in a very long time. He waited a few minutes and then finally turned to walk away when he heard the door open.

ìIím not ready to talk.î

ìWhen you are, we will. Until then, you stay, you get well. Weíll see how things go after that.î Angel said. Wesley nodded once, agreeing.

Angel moved to his desk and sat down, determined to get some casework done. Cordy would be proud. If she didnít come down here looking to see what was going on first.

The day passed slowly and Wesley came out in the evening to let Angel feed him some dinner. Again Angel stood by the refrigerator, drinking blood and musing over his patient. He was probably making the man feel like a prize pet, and he shouldnít do that.

ìI like how you keep looking at me,î Wesley said unexpectedly.

ìYou donít feel uncomfortable?î

ìTo be honest, no oneís ever looked at me like that and for this long. But I wonít get used to it.î

ìWhy are you so bitter, Wesley?î Angel set down his mug and moved over behind Wesleyís chair. ìYou are a very good looking man. Youíre brilliant. You should be used to people looking at you.î

ìIím an annoying prick,î Wesley answered dryly. ìIím an uptight asshole. I dress funny, I fall down, I wear nerdy glasses. I am a failed watcher.î

ìPart of your charm,î Angel said with a smile. He was now close enough to touch Wesleyís hair. He put his hand out. ìMay I touch you?î

ìAngel, Iím not going to be your little pet project. Why are you treating me that way?î

ìI canít seem to do anything right with you.î Angel sighed and dropped his hand.

ìAt the moment I donít think very highly of myself, itís true. Faith said some things that hit home,î Wesley said. He looked away, then down at his clasped hands. ìIím afraid theyíre all true. Letís face it, she emasculated me in more ways than one.î

ìWesley, you are a man, to me, youíre not what Faith said, youíre...î Angel was struggling for words. ìGod, if only I was a good communicator.î

Wesley laughed. ìFor all the good itís done me. I canít string two words together when itís on the line. In fact, when itís on the line, Iím not much good to anyone.î Wesley had a dark look on his face. Angel saw his eyes flash and had an eerie sense of dÈjý vu. Something in that unshaven face troubled him in a familiar way, though he had never seen Wesley look so ominous before.

Angel moved around and sat down next to Wesley at the table. ìI just know that I care about you. I want to help, if youíll let me.î

ìIím not good at the sex,î Wesley said, switching to open frankness. ìI have some issues.î

ìI do too,î Angel said, deadpan.

ìBut I could use another massage.î Now Wes was half-smiling and Angel felt a wave of relief. The dÈjý vu passed and slipped away, forgotten.

ìIím glad we had this little chat,î Angel said, smiling and reaching across to entwine his fingers with Wesleyís. Wesley didnít flinch or pull away. ìMay I attempt to improve my technique right now?î

They moved into the bedroom and Angel immediately stripped Wesley of all his clothing. ìHey,î Wesley protested.

ìSimply for massage purposes,î Angel said innocently.

ìAs long as you donít forget...î

ìYouíre not my sex toy, not my rehabilitation project, not my captive slave.î

ìUnless weíre in a fantasy role-play,î Wesley cracked and then immediately said, ìOh my god I cannot believe I just said that.î

ìMust be the head wound.î

ìMust be.î

ìIím just rendering the care not covered by your health benefits working for me.î

ìThere are health benefits?î Wesley affected renewed interest.

ìYes, smartass. Youíre getting them right now.î

Wesley stretched out face down on the bed and Angel took a moment to admire him. He wore those ridiculously oversized suits that made him look gangly, but he was thin and beautiful underneath. His long fingers stretched out across the pillow.

ìIs there any chance you are attracted to me, too. At all?î Angel said, and fidgeted. He felt like the kid heíd practically been when he was courting Buffy.

Wesley turned his head so Angel could see a sliver of blue eye. ìIíll answer that when I can trust the answer.î

ìIíll accept that.î And Angel set to massaging.

They fell asleep in the early evening, limbs entwined.

***

Wesley dreamt that he was running. He was running from some unknown evil, a faceless creature with wings that flew above him. He knew that he had to save someone he loved but he didnít know who it was. The creature commanded a vast army that marched through LA, torching the office, torching Angel Investigations and his father stood before him with a look of disappointment on his face, spooning cantaloupe into his mouth. His father spoke around a mouthful of cantaloupe: ìThe Beast is Angel. Donít you see that, you idiot?î And when he turned around, he saw that the winged creature had fangs.

Angel dreamt that he was running after Wesley and that for some reason, Wesley wanted to get away from him. Angel was opening his mouth, gasping like a fish on land, but no words would come to convince Wesley that there was no reason to run, there was nothing to fear. Wesley was naked and running through a forest. He tripped over a black tree branch and fell. When Angel caught up to him he saw Wesley, dead, his upturned face covered in black mud, his back arched over the branch. His body sank into the mud and Angel could not get it back.

They woke at the same time, gasping and shouting. Angel had slipped into his vampire features and Wesley was wide-eyed and naked, twisted up in the sheets. Wesley stumbled out of the bed and ran for the door and Angel caught him and spun him around. Wesley used the momentum to deliver an openhanded blow to Angelís head, startling him, and then darted out to the weaponry wall. He hefted an ax and swung blindly. Angel was too fast and ducked, and the ax flew out of Wesleyís hands into the brick wall, showering plaster everywhere. Angel caught him and instead of biting into him, kissed him hard on the mouth, scraping his lips with his fangs. Wesleyís hands gripped Angelís hair and they were pressing against each other, moving, tripping, catching, biting, falling, rolling. Angel spun Wes onto his stomach and now Wes was struggling, yelling, fighting.

Angelís face shifted back and he turned Wesley around again, pulling him tight to his chest, kissing him fiercely. ìNever hurt you,î he gasped.

ìI want you to, Angel, I need you,î Wesley was gasping too. Angel jumped up at these words and darted back into the bedroom. Wesley was just getting to his knees, feeling the sharp plaster bite into them, when Angel returned and then his hands were all over Wesley, slick and warm.

Angel sank into the couch and pulled Wesley up with him. ìA dream, I had a dream,î Wesley was muttering incoherently.

ìI know,î Angel replied, kissing Wesleyís neck, licking him from collarbone to ear. And he felt that he needed to protect Wesley, he needed to remember every inch of him. He could never forget this.

And Wesley knew that Angel was trustworthy, that Angel loved him, needed him, would never put something else ahead of Wesleyís well being. Wesley was hard and aching and he wanted Angel. ìYou asked me,î he panted, ìearlier.î

ìWhat?î Angelís brain was befuddled with the licking and the kissing.

ìIf I thought about you in the same way,î Wesley said, moving his head to look Angel in the eyes. ìYes, Angel. Absolutely. And I want you, now please.î

Angel could not have looked prettier at that moment as his eyes lit up. Wesley sighed with relief as he saw what he wanted to see in Angelís eyes. Affection, dedication. He wanted it all. He leaned in and kissed Angel, biting him on the lip as before and Angel pulled him in more fiercely. He ground his hips against Wesley, letting his dick slide up and down on Wesleyís hip. Wesley turned and they rocked against each other for a moment. Then Wesley stopped and eased himself over, spreading himself out under Angel. Angel didnít hesitate, but ran his slick hand up and into Wesley, massaging his hole, clamping his jaw down on the back of Wesleyís neck. Wesley groaned and bucked, and Angel slid a finger inside him. ìGod, Wes, you are...î Angel stopped. He was not one now for dirty talk and the things he wanted to say might have ruined the moment. Wesley reached his arm back and grabbed the back of Angelís head, pulling him down so that Angelís mouth was again on his neck, his shoulder, his spine.

Angel removed his hand from between them and slowly pushed himself into Wesley. Wesley groaned so loudly Angel thought he was coming then and there. ìEasy, Wes.î Angel sank down until their bodies were pressed completely together. He felt Wes shudder and then he began to move, shallow thrusts, slowly, and with as much patience as he could handle. He eased Wesley up off the couch, enough for his hand to slide down to his dick and he gripped it and set up a rhythm. Each thrust made both of them grunt and soon Wesley was moaning and coming all over Angelís hand. A few final, harder thrusts and Angel lost sight of everything for a moment, the world spinning, his fangs lengthening and retracting and he collapsed on top of Wesley.

ìThe patient is healed,î Wesley said after a while.

ìIím sure a few more days wouldnít hurt,î Angel replied.

ìCordy will worry.î

ìI can tell her exactly whatís going on.î

ìIím not sure thatís good office politics.î

ìUh, Wes?î

ìYes.î

ìWhat is going on with the dreams, do you think?î

ìI donít know but I am certain we need to talk about it.î

ìWeíre not good at talking remember?î Angel rose up from the couch and pulled Wesley toward the bedroom. ìAt least letís, um, get off the sticky couch.î

Once in the bedroom they arranged themselves neatly in the sheets, suddenly awkward with each other.

ìHere,î Angel said, rolling Wesley over and spooning up against him. Again, they slept, again they dreamed.

The next day dawned and both of them were so exhausted from the dreams that they sat at the kitchen table silently for at least 20 minutes before speaking.

ìI think that weíve got some version of Cordeliaís visions,î Wesley said finally.

ìIf this is what they look like, I donít see how she makes any sense of them,î Angel replied.

ìI know theyíre painful for her, but I donít feel pain so much as terrified andÖî Wesley trailed off, looking meaningfully at Angel.

ìRabidly horny,î Angel suggested.

ìLike an animal reaction, almost.î

ìAlmost.î

The conversation was dwindling and the meaningful looks were increasing. Angel felt tired and worried, but he couldnít deny that he was getting hard, just looking at Wesley across the kitchen table. He tried to focus on the vision issue, the surrealistic dreams, the problem of Cordy, but his mind kept going back to the way Wesley felt underneath him, the way his fingers looked as he played with his toast, the burning blue of his eyes.

ìAngel?î

And Angel reached for Wesley across the table just as Wesley reached for him. He swept the dishes off and heard them shatter on the floor in some remote corner of the room. Wesleyís hands were on his back, skimming the surface, and they were kissing, hard and voluptuous, tongues wide and slow.

Angel could not get his clothes off fast enough. He left Wesley undressing and went into the bedroom. Wesley made as if to follow him but he ordered him to stay put. When Angel returned, Wesley was standing, unsure, but naked and erect, and Angel pulled him close. He gripped Wesleyís ass and lifted him up and onto the kitchen table. Wesley was murmuring in low tones and his hands gripped the edge of the table as Angelís kisses forced him back. Angel covered his hands in lube and began to stroke Wesley, one hand in front, one in back. Wesley began to groan and kissed Angel harder. Angel let his fingers go where they wanted to and Wesley suddenly broke off the kiss, gasping.

ìWait, wait, I donít want to come yet.î

ìNo, I donít want you to,î Angel said, easing up on Wesleyís dick.

He began to stroke himself and Wesley batted his hands away and took over, both hands on Angelís dick. Angel went back to kissing him and let his tongue explore the inside of his mouth, then moved down to his neck. Angel let Wesley stroke him until he felt close to coming and then stilled his hands and guided them around to his back. Angel pulled Wesley up against his chest and with his hands on his ass, lifted him off the table. Wesley wrapped his legs around Angel and it was so good, Angel felt like crying out. He lifted Wesley up and onto his dick, hearing him exhale loudly.

ìEasy Wes,î Angel said, as heíd said before. It seemed to calm him, relax him. ìIíve got you.î He did have Wesley, was holding him up with his strength, and Wesley let Angel take over, putting his hands back on the table and grabbing the edges. Angel thrust up and inside, letting Wesleyís ass just barely rest on the table. God, he was going to fuck Wesley on the kitchen table, and hadnít he been fantasizing about just this? He gazed down at Wesley, admiring his long, white body, loving the way his own pale body was pressed up and into him. He held himself inside Wesley without moving until Wesley met his eyes.

ìAngel, please, please.î

ìPlease, what?î

Angel knew what he wanted, could see Wesley begging him with his eyes, and it unleashed something in him. He began to thrust, hard, banging Wesley into the table and making it creak. Wesley cried out, each time, and finally came, without any stimulation, his head thrown back, fingers clenched around the table. Angel kept going. He knew he might be hurting Wesley. He couldnít stop, it was too good. His vision began to swim with the tentacled creature of his dreams and he imagined he could hear a baby crying again in the distance. He could hear Wesley crying out too, and also clenching around him and he felt his orgasm building. He pushed Wesley down flat on the table and pulled his hips out further, leaving Wesley flat and struggling while he continued to thrust. Finally he came and Wesley arched his back up over the table, and then they were both completely still.

Once theyíd disengaged themselves, Wesley went into the bathroom and was gone for some time. Angel tried to rouse himself to concern, but found he was having trouble. He sat on the couch, feeling sated. Finally Wesley returned and Angel was relieved of guilt by his confident walk and the fact that he was still naked. They sat together, naked on the couch, not talking, just gazing into space, until the mood struck again and Angel knelt between Wesleyís legs and spent an hour giving him a blowjob.

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. They barely spoke. They cleaned up after sex and waited until the next wave hit. Angel bandaged and re-bandaged Wesley. He fucked him up against the elevator, Wesleyís arms stretched up and grasping the metal cage. Neither of them dared to take a nap, but the strange images kept floating around in Angelís mind. He sensed the same was happening to Wesley.

When Angel closed his eyes, he could see streaks of fiery rain and a pitch-black sky.

Sometime after midnight they fell asleep and slept soundly, naked in the bed.

The next day Cordelia was granted entrance. Angel fixed the doorknob and she came down the stairs and gave a peremptory sniff. Whether or not she knew what she sniffed was hard to tell. Angel paraded Wesley out for her to inspect and she said he was looking much better. ìColor in your cheeks!î She enthused. Angel and Wes just looked at each other. ìMay I take him out for some shopping? Heís looking a bit shabby,î she continued, scanning his Angel-wear with disdain.

ìHeís still weak, Cordy,î Angel said. ìHeíll be headed to his own place soon and weíd rather he was ready for work as well before he worries about high fashion.î

ìTo each his own,î Cordy breezed. ìAs long as my guys are taking care of each other, and I get some time not to have to clean up the messes you two make...î She stared pointedly at the sink where dishes were stacked up next to empty blood packs.

She continued, ìSo I was watching Oprah, and she was talking about how right now the planets are misaligned, and itís mercury retrograde.î

Angel gave her a blank look.

ìWhy the visions didnít get to me these past few days? Hello? Hero of the people? Are you in there?î She made knocking gestures in the direction of Angelís skull.

ìMercury retrograde is causing the visions to go haywire.î Angel furrowed his brow and thought about this.

Cordy tossed a long dark lock of hair over her shoulder and pressed her lined lips together. ìI realized that maybe the visions got misdirected, you know like radio signals, and I was wondering, if well, if maybe they wandered over to the people closest to me, which would be you guys.î

ìWould these visions take the same form that they take with you?î Wes inquired nonchalantly.

ìI donít know, but I donít think so. There was some weird stuff in that last vision, sort of like saying that the wandering visions wouldnít be immediate, more like the future or something. I donít know. Youíre supposed to be the smart guy.î

ìIndeed.î Wesley tried to look more intelligent and less lustful.

She cocked one hip and looked at them. ìYou guys solidifying your friendship or something down here? Youíve spent an awful lot of time together lately.î

ìSo the wandering visions, could be of the future,î Angel prompted.

ìCould be,î Wesley mused. ìBut letís not jump to conclusions. Perhaps there are other side effects as well.î Wes gave an Angel a look. ìOr maybe itís just something that happens when the brain is stimulated by these visions.î

ìLetís not jump to conclusions,î Angel said sharply.

ìWhat are you talking about?î Cordy interrupted. ìHave you had the visions or not? Mercury retrograde is apparently a real bitch. Affects communications, you know. Between people, phones, internet, all kinds of weird things going on. Oprah says... oh, oh, oh, OW!î Cordy put a hand to her head and her eyes rolled back and Angel moved swiftly to catch her. ìVisions are back, yes they are! Here we go, I see a woman, in a club, a nightclub, sheís drinking a drink, and yes, itís drugged! Vamps are waiting outside; you guys have to find her first. One of the clubs on Sunset.î Angel eased Cordy onto his couch, flinching as he noticed the pillows in disarray and recalled the day before.

ìWes, you able?î Angel turned to him.

ìIf youíll watch my back, I ought to be okay.î Wesley took a deep breath. ìLetís not waste any time.î

Angel pulled open the hatch leading to the sewers, ìIíve got too much time before the sun sets, but there may be time if this isnít happening until the nightclubs kick into gear. Wes?î

Wesley followed him down, and Angel felt a pang of remorse. He knew Wesley was now stepping outside of the boundary of his apartment and he knew that once he let Wesley go and allowed him to step outside of what he now though of as their sacred space, things would change.

He couldnít think about the dreams, about the potential future he and Wesley might have been privy to, it was all too confusing and maybe theyíd sort it out later. But knowing what he had seen in those dreams, he felt sure he would not want to revisit it with Wesley or anyone else. They couldnít mean very much, could they? Wes would not die, heíd be sure of it. Cordy birthing a purple octopus? Nonsense. Better left where they were. In his head, on the chopping block of memories, ready to be cut out to make room for more memories. It was the way of the world. The way of the mind.

Wesleyís mind was already putting the past with Faith behind him; he was on to the next adventure. His face was healing, his cuts, his burns, the bite mark. Even the fingerprints Angel had left on him were fading, had already faded, might even now not mean what they meant last night. It was the way of the body.

They dropped down into the sewer together and made off at a moderate pace with Cordeliaís directions.

Things would go back to the way they were, Angel knew. Affections would again fracture and spread out, always eventually mathematically perfect. There would be deaths and births and resurrections and redemptions and an apocalypse. That Angel knew now. But heíd stay loyal. To Wesley, to his team and his mission.

Heíd stay loyal. The dreams didnít tell him that, he just knew.

**end**