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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.

Questionable Things
by The Brat Queen

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

Rated: R

Summary: Angel realizes what's been causing Cordy's pain. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "No Answers")

Thanks to: Mer and Wolfling for the beta read.

"I've done things. Questionable things." - Angel, Epiphany

THEN

"Darling, don't pretend, I know you're awake."

He stirred. His eyes were closed. He was comfortable. The bed was soft, it was hours yet until they had to be anywhere.

Why move?

A light hand ghosted over his lips and eyelashes. "Hmm - how does one wake a sleeping vampire?"

He felt his lips twitch with a grin, but kept himself composed. He shifted, as though settling down for a new dream.

"Should I do this?" the hand moved down to his chest. Fingernails replaced fingertips. An expert touch pinched and raised his nipples.

When he showed no other response, the touch continued. Faint circles were scratched into his stomach as the hand moved down to brush over his cock. "Or what about this?"

He felt himself responding, but stretched, pretending that he was still asleep yet.

"Oh, I know - this."

Angelus gave a growl of approval as Darla's fangs sank into his shoulderblade.

"Aha," she said. She licked her lips like a satisfied lioness. "I knew you were awake."

"Of course you did," Angelus told her. He tangled a hand in her hair and drew her close. He touched her mouth with his tongue, lapping at the blood. "You know me best."

"I always do," Darla assured him. She slipped onto his chest, her legs falling on either side of him. Coarse hairs tickled his cock. He rocked into her, and she hummed to show her approval.

"Kids won't be up for quite a while," he told her. He moved his hands up her soft thighs, finding the tender spots that made her squirm. "You and I could - "

There was a loud crash from the other room, followed by the shout of "Bloody Hell!"

Angelus and Darla locked eyes.

"Or they could be up now," she said.

"Or they could be up now," he agreed. Angelus trained his hearing, listening for the sounds of Dru and her William. Sure enough, he heard the dreamy pace of Dru's feet on the floor, and her sing-song voice telling William to be quiet, or else Grandmum and Daddy would be very cross.

Angelus had no doubt that he'd be very cross with William by the end of the day regardless, but at least his princess had bought him some time.

"I give it about a week before she kills him," Darla declared. She bent down to place kisses along his chest.

"She won't," Angelus said. He put his hands behind his head, propping himself up to watch his partner through the cascade of her blonde hair. "I dunno why, but she rather likes the boy."

"She's Dru," Darla said. "Last week she 'rather liked' that pineapple that she stole from the market."

Angelus smiled, remembering the lovely patterns the thorny fruit had made against Dru's skin when he'd finally persuaded her to stop hugging it to her chest. She'd told him that she wanted to name the fruit Edmund, and didn't it tell the most wonderful stories? He'd pulled Dru into his lap and made her tell him each one of the stories as his hands explored her bruised and mottled flesh.

Darla waved a hand in front of his face. "Darling - focus."

"Right, sorry," he said, drawing his attention back to her. He knew the tiny spark of jealousy in Darla's eyes was no trick of his imagination. Like any woman, Darla couldn't compete with a man's love for his daughter. It didn't stop her from trying, though.

"So what do you think?" she asked, shifting her hips back so that the tip of his cock teased at her cunt. "She'll forget him out in the sunlight? Cut too hard one day and slice his head right off of his body?"

He put one hand behind her back and held her still as he slid himself inside of her. "I think she'll have fun with her William. Just as I'll have my fun with you."

A slow smile spread across Darla's lips. "Really?"

Angelus morphed into vamp face, grabbing the back of Darla's neck and twisting so that she was pinned under him. He licked his fangs and grinned. "Really."

THEN

Angel watched Wesley.

He wasn't supposed to, he knew. Or at least he thought he wasn't supposed to. He felt like he shouldn't, and that was the thing. Looking at Wesley brought an instant twist of guilt to his gut, and fuck if he knew why.

But he did it anyway, because.... Well, he did it anyway.

Wes was in the office right now, completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't alone. Cordy had gone out on a date a few hours ago and Wes had babbled something about heading out himself later - Angel was even pretty certain the words "chat up the fillies" had been involved - and Angel had bid them both goodnight and gone down to his apartment.

He'd stayed down there for hours, listening to the sounds of Wesley walking around and, more importantly, not leaving.

So he'd gone back upstairs.

Wes was currently struggling with the filing cabinet.

"Need a hand?" Angel asked.

Wesley jumped and let out a muffled bark of surprise. He clutched at his chest. "Bloody Hell! Angel. I - er - would you like a coffee?"

Angel walked into the office. "Coffee?"

"I was trying to make myself one," Wes said, gesturing towards the drawer where they kept the grounds and the filters. "Except I can't find the key that - "

Angel reached around him, thumbed the latch by the handle and wordlessly pulled the drawer open.

"Oh," Wesley said. He turned around and blinked at the drawer. "I see. Some sort of trick or - yes. Coffee?"

"Sure," Angel said.

Wes looked at him uncertainly. Angel belatedly realized that he hadn't moved away from the ex-Watcher. He looked down at Wesley's suit, trying to guess the material. Wes, for his part, shifted uncomfortably, then loaded himself up with bags of coffee and filters and then ducked away to bring them over to the machine.

"What are you doing here?" Angel asked him.

Wes threw away the used filter inside of the machine and added a new one. "Er - just - making myself useful. Sorting files, alphabetizing books, dusting behind the cabinets. You know, the windows could use a good washing if you ask me, I was thinking - "

"Why?" Angel asked.

Wesley paused, then busied himself pouring spoonfuls of grounds into the filter. He didn't seem inclined to give an answer.

"Go home, Wes," Angel told him. "Go out. Have fun. Go on a date. Do something."

"Right. Of course," Wesley said. He put the coffee down and snapped the filter into place. He looked around as though momentarily at a loss, then straightened his shoulders and smiled. "You're right! Absolutely! This isn't a night for hanging about. All work and no play, etc. You're right. I'll - I'll go do that, shall I?"

Wesley went over to the desk and began to gather up his things. He overextended himself and dropped a stake onto the floor when he tried to hold it and a book at the same time.

Angel bent down and picked it up. He held it out, but didn't let go when Wesley tried to take it from him.

"Angel?" Wesley asked, quizzically.

"Actually," Angel said, not knowing where the words came from, "stay."

"Pardon?" Wesley frowned. He could see the younger man trying to puzzle the situation out.

"Stay," Angel repeated. "It's... You're right. The windows. And the files. There's stuff to do. Stay."

"Of course," Wesley said. He took the stake back and returned it to the desk. There was a mixture of gratitude and confusion on his face. "Be happy to. Er - boss."

"Good," Angel said.

"Will you join me?" Wesley asked, looking as though he himself didn't know what answer he was hoping for. "I - I mean - the coffee. I'll make the coffee for you, if you're going to join me."

"Please," Angel said. He wasn't sure why, but he was glad that Wesley wasn't going anywhere. "Thanks."

THEN

"You've convinced yourself that you're clever," Wesley said, giving him a mock patronizing look. "I think that's charming."

"I've got my good points," Angel said. He brought Wes's hand up to his lips and kissed it gently, not unaware that elevating it would help end the bloodflow from the nick the broken glass had given him. "Don't worry. You'll be fine."

"Our sheets, on the other hand, will not," Wes replied. He looked down at them with a worried frown. "Not unless you find bloodstains to be a fashion statement, and perhaps as a vampire you do, but as a mortal -"

"Nag, nag, nag," Angel complained. He couldn't help but smile, though. Wes was concerned about him. He liked that. A protective Wes was a wonderful and not unsexy thing. In point of fact it'd been all he could do to keep from kissing Wesley while the entire "Angel couldn't take care of himself if his life depended on it" lecture was going on. Actually enjoying the lecture had been the only thing which helped his willpower.

Still, Wes was being especially cute. Angel couldn't help himself. Without thinking he moved back and licked at Wesley's finger, intending to tease him with the promise of a future blowjob - give him a lolly to suck, humph!

But there was blood. Which he'd forgotten about. Or maybe he hadn't really forgotten about. No matter, it was in his mouth. It tasted nice. And it slipped back down his throat.

And then - shit.

Angel pulled back, ready to - he didn't even know what. "Wesley, I - "

Wes's blue eyes were crystal clear as they locked on his. "Hush."

Too much. He could feel himself slipping into game face. He wanted this. Whatever part of him controlled this, kept the demon in check, was too silent, or too far gone.

Wesley traced a fingertip over Angel's lips. Angel moved, chasing after it.

"Hush," Wes repeated. His voice was strong. There was no hint of uncertainty.

"Tell me to stop," Angel said. He wanted to hear the words. All of him wanted the words.

Only part of him wanted to heed them.

"Would it matter?" Wes asked. He was leaning in closer now, and the scent of him was appetizing.

Angel let himself go, feeling fangs sharpen and eyebrows grow rigid. "Probably not."

Still, for all his torment, for all his desire, it was Wes who took the next step. He slid his finger into Angel's mouth, watching with fascination as Angel began to suckle at the tiny wound.

And then, very softly, moments before the phones rang out their interrupting chorus, Wesley whispered: "Good."

NOW

"I'm just saying let's go!"

"I'm not arguing with you, Charles," Wesley said. He was standing in the middle of Cordelia's living room. His arms were folded, and for all that Angel knew Wes had been through a lot that day there was no outward sign of it. Instead all that could be seen was a Wes who was taking no shit. "However as yet we don't know where to go. Cordelia's vision wasn't that precise. We need more information."

"Then give me something to hit!" Gunn said. He stood up from the couch and paced in caged frustration. "C'mon. Gotta be plenty of people in this town we can beat up for information, right?"

"Right," Angel said, from his position by the hallway.

Wes's eyes flickered in his direction, but he returned his focus to Gunn. "Correct. But information about what? We don't even know where to begin."

"I wanna try again," Angel said.

Wesley looked back at him. "Pardon?"

"It gets stronger when I'm near, it's about me," Angel said. He held up a hand to forestall the protests before they could come. "I'm not saying I like seeing her hurt but - it's the only lead we've got to go on. Plus sometimes I can get her to remember stuff. Let me try."

"If Angel's the one in danger...." Gunn said, letting the sentence trail off and gesturing to fill in the blanks with "might as well let him give it a go".

"He's - " Wes started, then stopped. Angel could see the wheels turning in his head. They'd been going nonstop since the vision had hit. "The vision - oh Hell."

Angel winced with sympathy. He knew Wes was caught between a rock and a hard place. "Let me try, Wes."

"You hardly need my permission," Wesley muttered.

"I want it anyway," Angel said. He thought about it, then added: "Boss."

There was a long moment of silence before Wesley nodded. "All right. Do you want company?"

"Probably not a good idea to crowd her," Angel said. He knew it was true enough. He turned to go into Cordy's bedroom. Wesley stopped him.

"Angel, wait," Wes appeared at his side.

"What?" Angel asked, his hand hovering on the doorknob.

Wesley reached out with his hurt hand - completely healed now - and caressed Angel's cheek. He kissed him. "I love you," he said.

Angel let himself lean into the touch. He pressed a kiss back on Wes's mouth. "Love you too."

Wesley nodded as though satisfied, and stepped back.

Cordy's room was dark, but that didn't stop him. He quietly closed the door and walked forward, hoping that he wasn't bumping into Dennis along the way.

Cordy was curled up on her side, her face buried in her pillows. She didn't look up when Angel sat down on the other side of the bed. "Hey."

"Hey," Angel said.

She curled in tighter on herself. "Ow," she said, almost conversationally.

He gave her a sympathetic look that was probably wasted in the darkness. "Sorry. I know it's me."

"We'll fix it," she promised him. "I'll make sense of this stupid thing and we'll fix it and then we'll punch the Powers in the nuts because this is so not the way to help the helpless."

Angel chuckled at her imagery. "No. It's not."

"I don't know why it's you," she said. She turned over. He could see her face in the darkness. Her eyes were open and confused. "I mean how stupid is this? I get a vision about you and they don't even show me what you're in danger of! Thanks a heap," she said, looking up at the ceiling as though that would make the Powers hear her better.

Angel reached out and brushed a light hand on Cordy's arm. She flinched in pain as her headache worsened. "I'm not in danger," he told her, taking his hand back.

She frowned. "What?"

Angel looked back at Cordy's bedroom door. He could hear Wes and Gunn quietly discussing taking him to see the Host - getting him to sing to find out the cause of the visions. "We're friends, right?"

Cordy sat up. He figured her eyes must have adjusted to the dark by now, making him at least somewhat visible to her. "Yeah, Angel, we're friends."

Angel turned to face her. "Then I need a favor."

"Sure," she said. "What?"

Good question, he thought. He was going on his guts, Asking for a favor meant long term planning. He didn't have a plan. Just a need.

"Take care of Wes," he said.

Cordy blinked. "Huh?"

"I love him, Cordy," Angel said. He hoped she'd repeat the words to Wesley later. "I love him like - like I haven't loved anybody. Not since Buffy. And I wanna be with him. Like a forever thing. Or a close to a forever thing."

"Okay," Cordy said. He could tell she was feeling the words out, trying to figure out what he meant by it all.

"I haven't wanted to be with anybody like that since Darla," he said, realizing it himself as much as he was telling Cordy.

"That's definitely... romantic?" Cordy guessed.

Angel gave her a little smile. "Something like that."

"So what's the problem?" she asked. She spoke softly, as though she knew this wasn't a conversation meant to be heard by the others.

"I want to be with him," Angel repeated, speaking the words carefully. "Like I was with Darla."

"So what's the - oh," Cordy said, realization dawning.

"Yeah," Angel said. He looked down at his hands. He was suddenly aware of how dead they were.

"Angel, you can't," Cordy told him.

"I know," he said. If he concentrated, he could still taste Wesley's blood on his lips.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Protect him," Angel said.

She leaned in to give them more privacy. "How?"

Angel studied her. A few side trips to Hell and LA notwithstanding, she'd been a part of his life longer than anyone. Longer than anyone currently in his life, anyway. He sketched a picture of her in his brain - shoulder-length brown hair, hazel eyes, large smile, curvy figure. He committed it to memory. "Love you too, you know. You're - you're my family."

Cordy pressed a hand to her mouth, then moved forward and clutched at him, burying her head in his shoulder and hanging on in spite of the pain that twitched through her. "Angel - no. Don't. Big, stupid - "

"I have to," he said. He kissed the top of her head and hugged her tight. "Please - Cordy, please. Take care of him. I don't trust anybody else with it. Make him eat. And dress right. And - and not forget how great he is. He always forgets how great he is."

Cordy nodded. The action wiped tears onto his coat. "I will. But you won't. You can't. Angel...."

"I gotta," he said. Part of him wondered if this was always going to be his life. Part of the gypsy curse - love people enough to get close to them, know himself enough to know that he would always have to leave. He gave Cordy a harder hug, telling her what he couldn't tell Wes. "Love you. Good bye."

He detangled himself. Cordy hung on to him for a moment longer, but let go, knowing his dark side almost as well as he did. She sat on the bed, her legs tucked underneath her and her face and hair a mess of tears. Angel felt himself start to well up at the sight of her, but he forced it down for more practical concerns. He didn't have much time.

He went over to Cordy's window, unlocked it, and looked down at the drop to the ground.

"Take good care of her," he said, whisper-soft, hoping Dennis would hear it. Then he leapt out of the window, fell the couple of stories to the alleyway below, and ran for the safety of his car.

Fin.