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Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

Weakness
by The Brat Queen

Warnings: Darkfic. Spoilers up to "Tomorrow"

Summary: Angelus and Wes both have things to face. (Sequel to "Lessons")

Thanks to WesleysGirl and Zyre for the beta read.

The bed was comfortable. Perfect, and comfortable. And hey - extra benefit from knowing the word "perfect" could be used and really he didn't have to worry about it. He could just lie there and - well - be himself.

The room was dark. The sheets were cotton. And the pillows were the exact combination of firm and mushy that held your head and snuggled it at the same time.

What more could a guy want?

He was alone, which was okay. Hadn't been last night, which was even better, but sometimes the schedule just didn't work out for a quickie. Disadvantage of having to pretend to be a good guy. Although it cracked him up that it was the idea of Wes that worried Fred and Gunn. They'd been more than happy to hear that Wes had done the curse, but they still didn't trust him.

Not that he could blame them. After all - they were right. Wes wasn't trustworthy.

It felt strange to think that. He didn't know why. It was almost as though part of him was disappointed. You were supposed to be able to count on things in life, and Wes being a certain way was one of them.

Which was stupid. Because he, personally, didn't count on anything in life, least of all Wesley.

Still...

He turned, rolling onto his back. He ran a hand down his chest and thought about the young Brit - getting older by the second - who was now his lover.

Not a bad lover, he had to admit. Not much for spooning and soft conversation after the fact, but a hard, violent fuck in the most unlikely of places and he was your man.

Last night had been in the alley by his apartment - both of them too horny to want to wait to get inside. He'd had Wes up against a dumpster, the smell of refuse in no way distracting either of them from the desire to thrust and rub until they came.

Wes had clung to the metal of the container and stared out of the mouth of the alleyway to the street. More specifically, to the park. When orgasm took over he'd been looking right at the spot where Justine had cut him.

Bitch.

Speaking of which, Lilah was still in the picture. No big deal, that, just interesting. He wondered what the two of them were getting up to in bed these days. Part of him wondered if she was sucking him off right now.

He bet Wes tasted good. He'd have to sample the merchandise himself at some point. But no blowjobs. He didn't get on his knees for anybody. Wes could jerk off and then tithe the results.

"Angel?"

His eyes flew open. He was sitting up before he was even aware of it.

Okay - what the Hell?

Vamp senses immediately seized the room and cut it apart for inspection. Nothing, nothing, and nothing some more. His eyes darted around, demanding an explanation. Empty furniture was his only response, which made him think of Neil Diamond songs which upped the annoyance factor of the whole thing by a thousandfold.

Back to the brain then, locking the sound in his short term memory and shaking it to see what fell out.

Real, or not real?

He couldn't tell.

Fuck.

"As above, so below and center," Wesley murmured, his fingers brushing the edges of the spellbook. The words were in Didion, but the translation came easily. "I call forth the energies of Garida. All are one, energy and matter and - "

Wesley stopped, putting the book down.

"And bollocks," he finished. It wasn't working. Damn his family line and every magic-blind part of it. Oh, certainly, there'd been rumors of an aunt on his mother's side who was something of a hedge-witch, but fat lot of good that did him now.

"Can't you do spells?" a male voice asked as a dark figure strode in behind it.

Wes didn't give Angelus more than a glance. "Can't you open doors?" he said, the words pointing out for him the fact that Angelus had come in via the bedroom and not, for example, the front entrance.

Angelus sat down beside him. "You weren't answering your bell."

"Not much for taking hints, are you?" Wesley said. He wondered when it had become his style to fuck those who barged in whenever they fancied. Then he silently mocked himself for such obvious tastes.

"What's this?" Angelus asked. He waved a hand over the book-covered table.

"A waste of time," Wesley said. He slumped back onto the couch. Angelus's shoulder brushed his, and he rather liked that. "More specifically, it's a collection of spell books."

"So we're back on my earlier question," Angelus said.

"Yes," Wesley answered, because he saw no reason not to, "I can cast spells. Certain kinds of spells. However they are the kind that any fool can cast who has lips and tongue and is capable of using them and I'll thank you to throw that thinly veiled look of innuendo elsewhere. The point is there are certain kinds of spells which even you could cast if you cared to."

Angelus propped his feet up on the table. Wesley found himself looking at the long, muscular legs and not even bothering to hide his admiration. "And these are different spells?"

"These," Wesley agreed, "are different spells."

Angelus made a rolling gesture with his hand to indicate that Wesley could elaborate if he felt like it.

"They require energy," Wesley said. "The caster must tap into magical forces and bend them to his will, thus turning the energy into anything that he desires. However, in order to do this one must have an innate connection to magic. I have no such connection. Nevertheless, I aspire to cultivate one."

Angelus mulled this over. "Why?"

"Because," Wesley responded.

Angelus cocked an eyebrow, clearly expecting more and not getting it.

Wesley hovered on the edge of speaking. Where he stood was solid, blissful ignorance - Angelus's, not his own. In front of him was a cliff wherein he cast it all to the wind and fell, with no idea of when the ground would come.

"I want control," Wesley said, deciding this was a safe enough to tell the vampire.

If Angelus cared for the answer, he gave no indication. "Plenty've people can hook you up with that. Wizards, anyway."

Wes threw him a contemptuous look. "I'm not Willow. And I said I wanted control."

"Fair enough," Angelus said. He cast his eyes over the books. Wes wondered if he had any comprehension of them. "Any luck?"

Wesley responded by flicking his hand in the air and producing a small fireball. It had been the third spell he'd mastered, and still it didn't meet up to his own satisfaction. He wanted it tighter. More spherical.

Angelus looked at the flames that danced in the air, shifted, and produced a cigarette. "Useful," he said, exhaling a false breath of smoke.

"It's not enough," Wesley said, dismissing it with both words and gesture. It vanished, leaving a dark spot in his eyes like the pop of a flashbulb.

"You want to do more?" Angelus asked. He was poncy enough in his own right to tap his ashes into Wesley's empty waterglass, and not onto the floor.

Wesley contemplated the spell which was eluding him. It was similar to the fireball, but was a level higher. "I want to do that," he declared, indicating the open page.

"You will," Angelus said, in a strange echo of the times when Angel himself had shown confidence in him.

"What brings you here?" Wesley asked, shaking off the uneasy frisson of memories from the past three years.

"I hate the hotel," Angelus said.

Wesley blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"I hate," Angelus repeated, stabbing his cigarette into the air to punctuate each word, "the hotel."

Wesley shrugged, uncertain why this should concern him. "So? Get rid of it. Move."

Angelus finished off his cigarette with a suck that carved the ashes right down to the filter. He pitched the butt into the waterglass and held the smoke in his lungs for far longer than any mortal could. "That might not fix the problem."

Now Wesley felt his interest perk up. "What problem?"

Large hands moved as though a cigarette was in them. Angelus even lifted his fingers as though to take another drag, then stopped as realization struck. The movement was aborted in favor of taking the pack out again. Wesley, lazily pleased with his own trick, produced another tiny fireball, this time holding it out as he might have a lighter.

"I think something's up with the hotel," Angelus said, the words smoky. "Leaving won't stop it."

Wesley tilted his head. "What sort of thing?"

There was another long pause. "Can you do protection spells?"

Wesley fixed him with a dry look, letting the weight of their intermittently shared history provide most of his answer. "I know one or two."

Angelus was perfectly ready to sneak Wes back into the hotel, except Wes himself was more than happy to walk right in, nice as you please. Fred and Gunn stared, questions obvious on their faces, but Wes left them unanswered, instead going directly upstairs without passing Go or collecting his two hundred dollars.

"I needed some spells done," Angelus explained, as he followed the lover they didn't even know he had.

Wes had asked, back at his apartment, what spells he should bring. Angelus had traveled the path of truthful lies and said to use whatever he had. Especially ones that blocked unwanted guests, and eavesdroppers. After all - might as well hit all the bases once they were in the park, right?

Wes was now setting up, putting down candles and herbs and making marks on the walls and floor, and muttering in various languages that often sounded like Latin.

Angelus stood in the doorway - on the inside of it, so the protection would apply to him too - and watched.

He won a bet with himself when Fred appeared at his shoulder not long after.

"What's he doing?" she asked in a whisper that wasn't really soft at all.

"The hula," Angelus was tempted to answer, but instead he settled for "Spells. I told ya."

"Why?" she asked, then immediately bit her lips closed when Wes fixed her with a look that could rip a heart out and stomp it to the floor.

Angelus thought about offering, but figured Wes wasn't in the right mental place yet.

"I think you're distracting him," Angelus said, leaving off the word "moron" at the end of his sentence.

"Sorry," Fred said, putting a hand to her mouth and enacting a fairly elaborate pantomime of someone making themselves quiet.

Right on cue, Gunn appeared next. His pose was an admirably casual territorialness. He didn't touch Fred, but he might as well have pissed around her for all that she was clearly marked. "He staying long?"

"He can speak for himself," Wesley replied. "And the answer is no."

Angelus watched the interplay of them all. It made him nostalgic for the days of Darla-him-Spike-Dru.

"So speak," Gunn threw back. "You say you don't wanna hang around here but - "

"I don't," Wesley said, his voice quiet and precise as a laser. "And I won't. I am doing a favor for a friend."

Gunn looked back and forth between Wes and Angelus. Angelus did his best to appear innocent. "Since when're you two friends?"

"I had an epiphany," Angelus replied. Behind Gunn, he could see Wes trying not to smirk.

"This epiphany need spells?" Gunn asked. The challenge was clear. It was also wasted on its intended target.

"This rat hole needs spells," Angelus said. "If you've got a problem with that then I suggest - "

"It has been pretty creepy at night," Fred suddenly spoke up, her eyes darting over the men that surrounded her at various distances. "Which, okay, sure, not weird since it's the home of a vampire, but if Wesley knows some spells that could maybe make the creepiness go away that might be a good idea since it's hard to sleep in a place where you feel like the walls are crawling with slugs and slime creatures and leftover portals to who knows where and - "

"You can stay with me if it gets bad," Gunn said, and Angelus thought to himself that maybe Fred was a lot smarter in some ways than they ever gave her credit for.

"Yes," Wesley drawled, dragging the word out as though savoring the taste. "Why don't you do that? I'm sure you would be much more comfortable."

Fred gave Wes a look, but Wes sent it back unopened. "Oh. Okay then. Still - "

"Why don't you go pack?" Angelus suggested, taking in every second of the exchange and storing it away to analyze later like a favorite painting. He caught Gunn's eye in the strictly metaphorical sense. "I'll watch Wes."

"You do that," Gunn said. He put his arm around his girl and led her away.

"For some reason he doesn't like me much," Wesley said, when they were alone again.

Angelus knew opportunity when he saw it. He closed the door, crossed the room, and put his hands on Wes's capable thighs. "Can't imagine why."

"I never - " Wes started, then stopped. He leaned to the side as though he might move away, but remained inside of his touch, his back resting against Angelus's chest.

Angelus did what he always did, which was to pretend ignorance to make people tell him things they normally wouldn't. "What?"

Wes shot a baleful look at the door. "Friendship is such a strange thing," he said. They both knew it wasn't really an answer.

Angelus slipped his arm around Wesley's waist. "You're telling me?"

"I took your child," Wes murmured. "That was - I thought - my only crime."

"Nobody's innocent," Angelus told him. He ghosted lips along Wes's neck. "Least of all us."

Wes shivered. It was a shiver of desire and fear. Angelus liked it. He'd always felt those were a great combination. "I don't think I'm in the mood to fuck, right now."

"I think ya are," Angelus said. He moved his hand up and fingered the place on Wes's stomach that still bore a scar from a gunshot wound. "You know, as far as aphrodisiacs go, anger is - "

"Shut up," Wes hissed, the words like a whip crack.

Angelus grinned. Not every sore spot was a physical one. "Make me."

Wes was tense, and quiet. Angelus was glad. It meant Wes was pissed. Wes always got quiet when he was dangerously mad.

"How's that control?" Angelus said, making the words a purr as he brought lips up to the curves of Wes's ear and hands up over Wes's chest. "Solid as ever?"

"I think you need to stop speaking," Wesley said. Only a vampire could have heard him.

"I think you don't want me to," Angelus replied. He moved to run his lips along the other side of Wes's neck, lapping at the scar. "And I think you don't know who you want to fuck more. Me - "

"Quiet."

"Gunn."

"Quiet."

"Or Fred."

There was a jerk, and a feeling like the room's pressure had dropped. A knife appeared where no knife had been and flung itself into the far wall. Wes's hand remained outstretched from where he'd done the casting.

Angelus looked at it. "Nice."

"Number four," Wes said, as though this would make sense as a reply. He turned around to face him, his eyes glittering. "Would you like to see me try it again?"

Angelus grinned, and stepped back, holding his arms out in a gesture of invitation. He thought about it, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt, making a show of baring his chest. "Go for it. I like blades."

"So I've heard," Wes told him. He moved his hand, again there was the sensation of pressure dropping, and a new knife appeared. It was a pretty one - Japanese, with elaborate markings on the handle. Wes stepped forward, a lovely cougar with a sharp claw, and traced the tip of the blade along Angelus's chest. "Of course," Wes pointed out, "Fred and Gunn haven't left yet. We might have an audience."

Angelus pushed forward, letting the tip pierce his skin and draw a bead of blood. "Right now," he told Wes honestly, "I don't give a fuck who's watching."

"Right now," Wes said, applying pressure to the blade, "I don't either."

Angelus leaned forward to dance a kiss over his partner's lips. Wes tasted wonderful. Angelus knew he'd taste and look even better with his legs spread and his body bent double on his perfect, comfortable bed. "Good," he said. He reached out to wrap a hand around Wes's and bring the knife up to his mouth, where he lapped at the blood with his tongue. "Let's play."

Wes gave him a grin, and led him into the bedroom.

Fin.