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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.

Always?
by The Brat Queen

Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.

Rated: R

Summary: Angel thinks back on falling in love with Wesley.

Dedicated to: Cindy and Meredith, who spent the past week and a half humoring me as I debated canon, the meanings behind the tiniest of voice changes and just what the heck was Wesley laughing at during that phone conversation in order to get ready for this upcoming story arc. Yep, there's an arc and you're at the start of it. Hope you all enjoy.

The moonlight was bright enough for even mortals to see by as Angel walked out over the paths and away from signs of civilization. Snow crunched under his rubber heels and he liked that. He wasn't hiding from anyone. He liked leaving a sign that he'd been there.

Then the world exploded into tiny ice crystals.

"Oh good show," Wesley chuckled. Through the remnants of the well-aimed snowball Angel could see Wesley slapping his leather-gloved hands together to rid them of the remaining flakes.

"Do you want your hot chocolate or don't you?" Angel asked, holding up the styrofoam cup and refusing to rise to the bait. Although the thought of tossing Wes into a snowdrift had its appeal.

"Yes, thank you," Wesley said, coming over and taking it. He grinned, reaching up to brush snow away from Angel's hair. "White's an excellent look for you, you know."

Considering that he was wearing a maroon silk shirt, black pants and his long black leather duster, Angel doubted it. Though he had to admit the few flakes that stuck to Wesley's hair and dark brown corduroy coat weren't bad on the eyes. Then again, neither was Wes.

"Is your drink okay?" he asked.

Wes took a sip of the hot chocolate and nodded. His breath swirled in the air. "Yes, thank you." He looked around. "Difficult to believe, isn't it?"

"That you're warm enough in those clothes?" Angel asked.

Wes ignored him. "That we're merely an hour away from Los Angeles. We could be skiing right now and go surfing in the morning. Well - I could. Or someone who actually enjoyed saltwater and beaches."

Angel laughed, moving closer to slip one arm around Wes's waist. "Yeah. It's nice up here."

Wesley looked at him curiously. "You've been here before?"

"Couple of times," Angel studied the trails meant for snowmobiles. "It's - quiet."

Wesley settled back against his chest. Angel wished this was the sort of thing Wes felt comfortable with around other people. "I used to enjoy such things in my childhood. Not the snow, of course, but the quiet countryside. I would go horseback riding. Did you?"

Angel smiled again. "Um - yeah. Kinda the only way to get around back then."

Wesley nudged him with an elbow. "Oh do shut up."

Angel laughed, and bent down to press a kiss against Wesley's neck. Wesley gasped, then shivered. Angel loved the feel of it, but remembered it might not be due to his own prowess. "Hey - gimme that for a sec."

Wes frowned, then turned and handed over his cup. "Are you thirsty?"

Angel clamped down on a part of him that really wanted to answer that question, and instead took a large gulp of the hot liquid. He held it in his mouth, not really paying attention to the faint taste he could pick up - though he wondered if it was a vampire thing or if he'd just gotten Wes a really shitty cup of cocoa. He waited for a few moments, savoring the sensation, then swallowed, letting the warmth sink into his throat as well. Only then did he pull Wesley closer. "C'mere."

They kissed. And Wes's lips were actually cold against his own for a moment before they parted and Wes's hot, wet tongue was in his mouth, drawing Angel to him, caressing him expertly and -

Wait a minute.

"Um, Wes?"

"Fascinating!" Wesley replied. His blue eyes were shining. He leaned in to kiss Angel again, his tongue tracing all the curves of his mouth before pulling back. "It seems as though you can hold the warmth for just about a minute. Is it dissipating into the air or elsewhere in your body? Does your brain feel warm?"

"Well - no," Angel blinked. "I mean - it wouldn't. There's no - huh?"

Wes removed one of his gloves and traced Angel's lips with a bare finger. "I've never studied the properties of diffusion on a vampire before."

Angel debated asking if that's what all the ex-Watchers were calling it these days. Instead he settled for kissing Wes's fingertip. Then taking the fingertip into his mouth and sucking on it because he saw no reason not to.

Wes sighed, snuggling closer. "Did - did it feel interesting for you? Or are you used to it by now?"

Why did Wes have to be so damn kissable whenever he wanted to talk? Angel let go of his finger with reluctance and gave his best attempt at an explanation. "Think I'm used to it. I mean - not like I tried this often. Usually me and - um - another vamp."

"Darla," Wesley suggested.

"Yeah, sure," Angel replied. "So - not like I really asked a lot of mortals what it felt like."

"Quite intriguing," Wesley said. He gave Angel's lips another experimental touch before slipping his glove back on. Then he frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder…"

"What?"

Wes broke out of his hold and bent down to the ground, scooping up some of the freshly fallen snow. He patted it down into something like a disc shape, then stood up, taking several bites of it and swallowing painfully.

"You okay?" Angel asked.

Wes nodded. "It's a little cold on the teeth."

"Well - it is snow, Wes."

Wes shot him a look, then finished the rest. "All right, let's try this." He stepped forward and kissed Angel again.

Suddenly Angel got the point. Wes's mouth was cold, but Angel could feel that warmth hiding behind it. He found himself seeking it out, letting his tongue rub up against Wesley's teeth and skin as though he could stimulate the blood flow and taste that heat.

And fuck yeah, Wes had heat. Damn near a furnace hiding behind the posh accent, proper clothes, and occasional stern headmaster impersonation. Wes's hands clutched Angel's arms tightly and Angel could feel Wes's cock getting hard and for that matter his own as the kiss went on and on with neither one of them feeling like stopping.

"Love you, Wes," he murmured.

"I love you as well," Wesley kissed him again.

"So this is - what?" Angel asked. "Diffusion?"

"Yes," Wes replied. He pulled back just enough to look at him. "You see, the flow of energy or matter from a higher concentration to a lower concentration in an effort to create a homogenous distribution of why on earth are you letting me prattle on?"

"'Cause I like listening to you," Angel nuzzled Wes's cheek. "Always like listening to you."

Wes gave a soft laugh.

"What?"

"I was simply remembering fondly how often you listened to me in Sunnydale, which is to say not at all," Wesley said. He took his cup back from Angel and drank several sips from it. He gave Angel a teasing grin. "Tell me, did you even remember my name?"

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," Angel answered automatically. "And I don't think I like this conversation."

"Angel, really - "

"No," he said, stepping forward and putting his hand on Wes's arm to hold him still. "What are you saying here, Wes?"

Wesley looked confused. "Nothing. Angel, I'm only suggesting that it's not necessary to engage in romantic hyperbole for my sake. You were - you were with Buffy then. There was no one else that you cared for. It's fine, truly."

"Okay, yeah," Angel said, wishing like hell he could tell Wes it was a lie. "But - I noticed you. I remembered you."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, Wesley," he said again. "Fuck yeah."

No, he hadn't noticed the new Watcher in Sunnydale. Hadn't given anything resembling a second of thought. It'd been Buffy. His entire world was Buffy. She was the only thing his world could be.

Except…

Except real life didn't work like that. Love to the point of obsession didn't work real well with - well, anybody but with vampires and Slayers even less. She was stagnating. She was holding still. She was -

Fuck, she was dying. Near as he could see she was dying. The beautiful, wonderful girl who'd convinced him life was worth living, that things meant something - giving it all up just for him.

No. Fuck no. Hell no. Buffy Wouldn't Die. Buffy Couldn't Die. Not on his watch. Okay, yeah, he was on board for the part where she was still breathing and talking and living but - Buffy's spirit was something else. A real wonderful something else. He wasn't going to let that get destroyed.

So he left.

This was the mature decision. The right one. Or at least that's what he told himself because that way he got to feel like he was an adult without actually having been one. Otherwise it looked a Hell of a lot like running away from his problems or taking the coward's way out and even a guy who can't see himself in mirrors liked to pretend he could look himself in the eye once in a while.

And - being alone he could do. He was good at that. He could be alone again. He'd spent a lot of time being alone. Easier to fight when you were alone too. He'd always felt that. Didn't have to worry about watching anybody's back except your own, and when you didn't even care about that it got even easier.

L.A. had been an easy choice. Far enough to get away, close enough to come running if she needed him. Not that he figured she would ever ask, but a guy could dream.

Plus - there were worse towns he could pick. Even Spike had said it, back in the unsouled Sunnydale days. He'd caught Angelus and Dru snuggling up together and snarled something under his breath about why didn't he take a trip up the bloody freeway and have his fill of the bints there. After all, it had his bloody name on it.

It'd taken about a week for him to get tired of the "City of Angels" jokes after he'd actually moved.

He'd done pretty well on his own at first. If by "pretty well" you meant "hadn't set himself or the city of Los Angeles on fire". On the other hand if you meant "didn't want to set himself on fire" you might have had a harder argument. He could be alone, he just didn't like it.

Then came Doyle.

Doyle, who pretty much waltzed into his life and flat-out told him he had a new partner. Not that he was looking, not that he was asking, but the Powers had their own ideas and hey let's just have a pint and run with it, huh?

He'd liked Doyle. He was - different. Angel recognized the Irish sense of humor and enjoyed it even if he never could hear the brogue Cordy kept swearing was fake. Doyle - Doyle had been good for him. He never fell for the brooding crap and he'd always been one for the inspiring - if strange - pep talk. "Hey, Angel - how about tonight you go out and just be around some people? You know how that goes. Find the folks with heartbeats and keep your teeth to yourself. Now next up is conversation but I figure that's gonna be a few steps later for ya."

Next came Cordy, and somehow the guy who wanted nothing except to be by himself was now inside of a family. People cared about him. He cared about them. He could be with them and nobody lost a soul.

It was… different.

Until Doyle lost his life.

Stupid fucker. That was Angel's job. That was always Angel's job. How fucking hard was this to understand? Angel was already dead. You need a guy to bite the big one? Send in the vampire. You don't sacrifice yourself so the vampire lives. Jesus.

Any wonder he'd wanted to go back to square one? Everybody out of the pool, it's time for souled vampires only. Get out, get away and stay there.

Except Cordy hadn't listened. And moreover she couldn't listen what with Doyle giving her the visions and all.

And then -

And then…

And then there'd been this guy.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Rogue Demon Hunter, whatever the fuck that'd meant. Angel hadn't asked. Angel hadn't cared. Angel didn't want to care. Buffy's ex-Watcher was stomping around in his city - had his name on it and everything - and getting in his way. No fucking wonder Buffy hadn't been able to stand him. Pompous. Full of himself. Way too infatuated with his own opinions and definitely not staying.

Angel didn't need him. Angel didn't want him. Angel didn't even fucking know him and it was just an act of charity to ask him to stay and have breakfast.

After all, the guy was hungry.

Hungry, and homeless, and out of a job. And there was something in his eyes which said - don't ask. Don't go too far here. Don't ask Wesley why he didn't go back to England when the Council fired him, because that nice big motorcycle of his pretty much poked holes in every claim that he hadn't been able to afford the ticket.

Wesley had that look in his eyes a lot. Not that Angel'd been looking.

He hadn't, really. What would there be to look for? He was off the market. Soul Boy. And Buffy's. Not that he was with Buffy but - it was all he had. Even when she went off with Riley. Which was good. She'd moved on. Which is what he wanted. It was all really, really… good.

Wes had girlfriends too. Which, you know - also good. He was making friends. Settling into L.A. Having sex. Making Angel wish that vampire senses understood the concept of TMI. All really, really… good.

He wasn't noticing Wes. Not really. Okay, sure - maybe he was a little protective of the guy but after Doyle who could blame him? Doyle'd been part demon. Wes was all man and okay maybe another choice of words might have been better there. Human. Wes was human. Like Cordy, who Angel was also protective of. Perfectly legit. No hanky-panky here and how the fuck had Faith known?

Angel still didn't know that. Sure, maybe it was possible that Faith'd been acting out against her old Watcher but - Faith had been egging him on, not Wes. She'd been trying to make Angel lash out at her in anger by hitting him where it hurt and she'd grabbed Wes.

Just like everybody else who came to town to mess with him. Somehow they all knew. Angel figured he had to be wearing a sign that everybody else could read but him. Either that or Cordy'd put it on the business cards without telling him. Angel Investigations, We Help the Helpless, No Personal Checks Accepted and Our Boss Has a Thing for the British Guy.

That's all it was. A thing. A - noticing. An appreciation. Nice body, intelligent guy, unexpected sense of humor - he could take a look, right? He might be dead but he wasn't dead. Hell, even Cordy'd noticed him back in the day. No harm in looking. No harm in watching Wes, in wondering what he did when he was off on his own, or enjoying it when the three of them had to do something together that didn't end up in bloodshed. Or actually even then because Wes wasn't half bad in a fight when you gave him the right weapons and seeing Wes panting and disheveled…

Was definitely something Angel was starting to get too interested in. Way too interested in. He didn't have the right. He wasn't supposed to. He was supposed to be alone. He wasn't supposed to be making Wes smile, or glad when Wes came to him to share a confidence, or fucking thrilled to find out Wes wanted to do something with him specifically. And he thought maybe - he didn't know. A little flirting? A little unnecessary physical contact? Maybe he caught those blue eyes staring back at him a few times?

But - that's all it ever was. Which had been okay, really. What'd Angel been expecting anyway? He was a vampire, Wes was human, he was 247, Wes was 30, he had the ability to lose his soul and try to act out insane schemes of world domination, Wes lived in the world - it wasn't the kind of thing that would work out in the end, the problem of their differing religions aside. Friendship was definitely the only way to go.

Especially when Darla came back. And Wes met Virginia.

Angel honestly wasn't sure which of the two had been worse. Darla driving him mad - sure, not a picnic. But giving up on everything and going suicidal wasn't exactly new. It wasn't fun but he still had the T-shirt from last time. He could handle it. But Wes saying he was in love with somebody else? Going off with someone who wasn't him? Not that Angel had ever been stupid enough to think it could be him but - now it really couldn't be him. Not even in his fantasies.

And yeah, he had fantasies. Darla might have filled up his dreams but when he was awake it was starting to be all Wes. He had one in particular that he liked. There were variations on the theme but it all started with Wes himself braving the stairs and coming up to Angel's room to ask if he was okay. Wes'd been the only one who'd done that. Gunn and Cordy gave concerned looks, but Wes had cared enough to follow, to look Angel in the eye and demand to know what was wrong.

To his face Angel turned him away. But once that door closed -

Angel closed his eyes and thought about not doing it. Thought about telling Wes no, he wasn't okay. He was lonely and hurt and miserable and he wanted Wes to stay. To come closer. To say his name like nobody else said it and to fucking admit that he cared. Admit that it wasn't just friendship, or job loyalty bringing him up to Angel's door. That he actually liked Angel. That he wanted to touch Angel.

And in his fantasies sometimes Angel pulled Wesley into his lap at this point, or even shoved him against the wall. Either way he then kissed him, tasting that mouth he'd been dying for for so fucking long while in reality his hand was wrapped tight around his cock and pumping it for all it was worth, never taking too long to turn the fantasy so that it was Wes's hand touching him - or even his mouth - and Wes himself driving him over the edge time and time again while Angel moaned, and shuddered, and rediscovered the joy of jerking off in the shower where cleanup was a breeze and nobody could hear him saying a name that had the right syllables but started with the wrong letters.

Christ. It wasn't that he forgot. It was just….

Damn it, he loved Wesley.

Not like it mattered. He could love Wesley until the next apocalypse came. Wes didn't love him and probably never would. In the meanwhile - there were things to do. There was Darla. There was… Darla. And lawyers. And other things but mostly Darla. His old flame, back from the dead, and taking up all of his attention because at least there he could do something. He could save her. Give her everything he'd never had. Was that love? He didn't know. Maybe. Maybe it was just selfish. Save her so at least he'd know that he'd saved somebody - especially since he'd been having fuck-all luck at saving himself.

Not that losing Wes - who he'd never had in the first place - had pushed him to it. He'd have gone down that path even without the help. But it sure as Hell didn't hurt. One more reminder that Angel didn't belong in the world. Not with people.

Darla wasn't people. Darla wasn't even a person, even when she had the soul. And thanks to Dru - Angelus's own baby girl - she was now even less so.

He didn't even know where his head went with all that. Sure, Wes had made a good suggestion in that area but even still. Insanity must run in the family. And once again he was back on instinct. He wanted everyone to leave him alone.

"Did you know?" Angel asked Wesley.

Wes finished off his cup of hot chocolate and looked over at Angel. "Did I know what?"

"What it meant to me when you - you didn't give up on the mission," Angel said. "Last year."

Wesley shook his head, blushing. "No. I'd no idea. I thought - I thought at best I'd made it worse somehow. Pushed you into your obsession with my demands."

"You didn't." Angel stood behind Wesley and rested a cheek against his hair. "Think - other than Darla you were the only thing that mattered to me. Only thing I noticed."

"I'm glad," Wesley said softly.

Angel opened his mouth. He wanted to tell Wesley about it. About being alone. About forcing himself to stop thinking of Wesley if he was going to get the job done - but then not being able to do it. About seeing Wesley in the hospital, shot through the gut, and how it had torn him up inside. How realizing that he'd lost Wes had been damn near the end for him - had made facing that return trip to Hell that much easier….

But then realized maybe Wes didn't want to hear that.

"I love you," Angel said, settling on the truth. "I loved you. Maybe not back then, but now. And always."

Wesley shifted his weight to move into his embrace. "You needn't promise anything."

"It's the truth."

That made Wes smile. "For me as well."

Angel kissed him on the neck again, holding him close until the cold drove them both back to the car and home to Wes's apartment.

Fin.