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Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

Returning
by The Brat Queen and Meredith

Spoilers: Takes place after Epiphany.

Rated: NC-17

Summary: While in England with Wesley, Angel is forced to tell Buffy and the Scoobies about his new relationship.

Author's Note: While it's usually possible to read my stories on their own, this story is actually a companion piece to not one but two previously posted fanfics. The first and main story is By the Way which explains why Angel and Wesley are in England and covers the bulk of what they did there.

The second story is Across the Pond, a Buffy/Spike story written by my good friend Meredith and her comrade in arms Keren.

Meredith and I had talked about possibly doing a crossover between our two worlds and when we discovered that we'd both sent our gangs to England (and, as you'll see, even had some of them going to the same place at the same time) it was too good an opportunity to miss.

Is it necessary to read both of those stories before reading this one? No. Just be aware that the stories exist and that they explain what goes on between the scenes you see here. So if you'd like to read this first, by all means! Just make yourself familiar with the previouslies. Hopefully they'll give you all you need to know to at least get started.

Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!

Thanks to: Maximum Woman for the beta read.

Previously, on the Epiphany series: Angel and Wesley began having a relationship with one another. A vision of Cordy's sent the two of them to England to track down something called a Magus Orb. Thanks to a demon named Kyrl and a visit to the London Dungeon, Angel and Wes were able to find out how to counteract the Orb in case it was ever used against them. However, during their visit, the Watchers tracked Wesley down and tried to strongarm him into returning by first threatening him and Angel with crossbows, then revealing that Stuart, another Watcher, had also become too familiar with a vampire and had lived to regret it.

Previously, on Strange Bedfellows: In an effort to win Buffy's love, Spike asked Willow to curse him with a soul. The attempt failed miserably but not before Buffy and Spike began to form an uneasy sort of relationship. Needing information about Glory that the Watchers refused to part with, Buffy, Spike, Giles and the entire Scooby gang headed over to England.

Prologue
April, 2001

Wesley clicked on the desk lamp. The last rays of sunlight were fading from the sky as he tidied his workspace. He gathered files together and placed them inside of his briefcase. He took one last look at a passage in Hetgather's Demon Catalog & History, then bookmarked his place and put it back on the shelf.

Mail was next. It had been easily a week or more since anyone had paid their mail any due attention. Understandable, given the amount of work they'd done. Cordelia's vision of last Tuesday and an actual paying client had kept the team running to and fro in the streets of Los Angeles, with a side trip to the Valley in search of pertinent information. They had, Wesley estimated, spent only a few hours in the office on any given day. Not nearly enough time to keep on top of correspondence.

Which was just as well, since they didn't have the money to pay any of their bills until this latest check - signed by a grateful and now ghost-free client - cleared in their account.

Lacking anything else to do with them, then, Wesley instead collected every piece of mail that he could see and separated them into categories. Junk mail went to the trash. Bills into the bill folder. Personally addressed items were placed in the various locations everyone preferred - Cordy's on her chair, Gunn's by the filing cabinet, Angel's on Wesley's desk.

His own mail went into his briefcase. Wesley sorted through it before putting it away, checking to be certain that there was nothing urgent. It seemed the standard fare - bills, notices of library books due, a free trial issue of some magazine that had gotten ahold of his name and address. Nothing significant came to his eye.

Until he noticed one package which was addressed with familiar handwriting.

"Hey, Wes," Cordy said as she came through the front door. "I've got our new business cards." She held up a bag from the copying store, then looked around at the empty office. "Where is everyone?"

"Gunn is over at Anne's," Wesley said, "And Angel left a half hour ago to try to get to the butcher's before it closed."

Cordy raised an eyebrow. "It was kinda sunny for him to be driving then, wasn't it?"

"He took the sewers," Wesley replied. "I'll be bringing his car to the hotel in a moment."

"Yeah, I'm heading home now too. I'm not feeling very vision-y and Dennis and I are planning on watching that movie marathon on TV. You and Angel have any big plans? That I actually want to hear about, that is?" Cordy put the boxes of cards away, then noticed the package Wesley was still looking at. "What's that? Some new kind of overdue notice? Need me to call and swear we wrote 'em a check?"

"What?" Wesley looked up, processed all the words Cordelia had been speaking, then shook his head. He stuffed the package back into his stack of mail and shoved all of it into his briefcase. "No, it's nothing. Thank you. I should go. You know how cranky Angel becomes when his car is out of his sight for too long."

"I was thinking it's more like how cranky he becomes when people drive it on the wrong side of the road."

Wesley gave her a dry look. "Very funny, Cordy. Right side of the street. I'll be sure to remember."

Cordy shrugged innocently. "I'm just saying I know how hard it is for you English types. Plus I've seen you drive."

Wesley refused to rise to the bait. He put his jacket on and picked up his briefcase. "Yes. Good night, Cordelia. Are you sure you'll be all right by yourself?"

Cordy waved it off. "I'm leaving in a sec. But thanks. Tell Angel I said hi."

"I will." Wesley gave her one last gesture of goodbye, made sure he had the keys to Angel's car, then left. He held his briefcase under his arm. As he walked down the street to Angel's parking spot he thought, once again, of the package inside.

[Three weeks prior]

The sidewalks outside of the London Dungeon were wet with rain as Xander, Anya and Dawn made their way out of the tourist attraction and down towards the nearby Underground station.

"I get the death to all enemies of the faith thing, really I do," Xander said, side-stepping one of the Dungeon employees, "But why were they so ... inventive about it? Horses, saws, complicated things with levers. Why bother? People are easy to kill with any number of common household implements!"

"They got bored," Anya replied, as though it were obvious. Another Dungeon employee approached them with a flyer in hand, but Anya fended him off by holding up her souvenir bag as proof that the three of them had just gone through the entire experience. The employee - this one dressed like Death - nodded and moved back into the crowd. "I know my vengeances got a lot more involved after the first two hundred years or so."

"Yeah, but think of the toolbelt these torture guys must have had! At least you got to use magic," Xander replied. As they reached the second entrance to the building, two figures seemed to separate themselves from everyone else. Xander frowned, wondering why he'd noticed them. "If I were a member of the maiming profession, the last thing I'd want to carry around is a - a big broody vampire with a sniveling sidekick."

Dawn looked at him as though he'd suggested playing Roger and Hammerstein's greatest hits at a Metallica concert. "How would you fit that in a toolbelt?"

"No," Xander said, cursing his luck as he realized that, unfortunately, his eyes hadn't been possessed by a demon with a particularly annoying sense of humor. "Big broody vampire with a sniveling sidekick! Two o'clock!"

Anya and Dawn looked at him blankly.

Xander sighed. "That means in front of you and slightly to the right? No, don't look!"

With a sure-to-be-disapproved-of-by-Buffy amount of glee, Dawn grabbed a wooden hair stick out of the bun she'd been sporting and whirled around, ready for stakage. She stopped and rolled her eyes when she saw who Xander was referring to. "That's not a real vampire!" she said. "That's Angel!"

The back of the big, broody vampire in question stiffened, then moved as Buffy's ex-boyfriend turned around. "Dawn?" Angel asked, as though he wasn't sure he was speaking to the right person.

"Angel," Dawn replied. She began twisting her hair into a bun again.

Angel turned around fully, revealing, as Xander had guessed, Wesley standing beside him. "Dawn?" Angel asked again. "What - what are you doing here?"

Dawn shrugged, threading the hair stick back into the bun. "Field trip," she said. "What about you?"

Xander stepped forward and put his arm around Dawn, realizing that Buffy would provide at least nine different kinds of hurt if Angel found out too much about why Buffy and the Scoobies had come to England. As far as Xander was aware, Angel didn't know anything about Glory and Buffy was happy to have him stay that way. "Yeah," Xander said, in his best imitation of casualness, "We're just showing old Dawn around. Seeing the sights, picking up postcards. How about you, Angel?"

Dawn gave him a strange look. "Hello - we just did that part?"

Angel glanced at Xander, then over to Wesley. "We're just following up on some leads,"

Wesley seemed to take his cue from Angel's glance and spoke up. "Yes - we're researching a magical item which originated in London. There's a chance someone might be importing one into Los Angeles and we wanted to become familiar with any cures or counter-measures that could be used against it in the event of such an occurrence."

Xander stared at him for a beat. "Oo-kay, sounds like a great time for you there," he finally replied. He shook his head at Wesley just a little. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

"Pardon?" Wesley asked, obviously missing the connotations.

Whatever else Wesley might have said was cut off as Angel stepped forward and looked over at Anya. "Anya - you came too? Wes, you remember Anya, right?"

"I believe so," Wesley said, holding his hand out in greeting. "Weren't you were Xander's date to the prom?"

Anya looked at Wesley's hand curiously, but didn't bother to shake it. "Yes," she replied. "And now I'm his girlfriend. He buys me things." Hit with inspiration, Anya dug into one of her souvenir bags and pulled out a picture that she and Xander had taken of themselves earlier - a charming little number involving Xander's head on a chopping block while Anya held an ax over him. "Look!"

"Ah - very nice," Wesley said, in a polite British voice that almost could've out-Giles'ed Giles.

Angel looked at the photo appraisingly. "Kyrl does nice work."

Dawn broke into the conversation. "Guys? We're getting threatening looks from people with very sharp umbrellas." She gestured to the large number of people who were trying to pass by them on the sidewalk. "Chairs? Snacks? Bathroom?"

"There's a bathroom inside - it's right by the café," Wesley said. Then, off of Angel's look, lamely added. "There was a sign."

Anya smiled brightly. "Oh yes, I'm hungry." She tugged on Xander's shirt, trying to lead him back inside. "I want to try more British food. Maybe they even have Spotted Penis."

Wesley looked pale. "Do you mean Spotted... Dick?"

Anya continued smiling. "Yes! That's the one."

They made their way back into the London Dungeon. In what came as a surprise to no one, Angel turned out to know someone who worked the front entrance. A quick conversation with him - a Hiatt demon, Wesley unnecessarily explained - got them back inside and into the Dungeon's medieval-y decorated combination café and video arcade.

Dawn and Wesley went to secure a table while Xander, Anya and Angel took care of buying. Anya was disappointed to find out there was no Spotted anything - Dick or otherwise - but the menu had enough items that had been breaded, greased up and fried to make anyone happy.

"Wow," Dawn said, when Xander and Anya came back bearing trays of burgers, fries and sodas, "Who knew cheese food was the universal language?"

Angel arrived a moment later, putting a tray down in front of Wesley and taking a cup of coffee from it for himself. "They were out of the pizza you wanted," Angel told Wes, "so I got you a hot dog."

Wesley took the food and helped himself to a few napkins. "Thank you, that's fine."

Xander tried to decipher the receipt they'd been given. "So... that came out to eighteen pounds and fifty pence. That's what in American money? Forty five dollars and a chicken?"

"$27.39," Anya replied.

"Wes," Angel said, nudging Wesley, "your pills."

Wesley blinked. "Yes, thank you," he said, then fished in his pocket, pulled out brown prescription bottle, shook out two yellow and blue-grey pills and swallowed them with a drink of his soda. Xander watched this for lack of anything else to look at, then decided the meal would be much more pleasant if he kept his attention on his food.

"So, Dawn," Angel folded his arms on the table and leaned in, attempting to create some kind of bond-y moment. "Are you - um - learning a lot? While you're here?"

Dawn licked ketchup off of her fingers. "Oh totally. Rain. Bizarre food stuffs. Complicated execution methods. The works."

Angel nodded, obviously not getting a word of it. "Oh. Good. That's - great. Really." There was a pause as Angel tried to think of something else to say. "So how's school?"

Dawn sighed. "Fine."

"Good," Angel nodded again, this time trying for an almost paternal smile. "'Cause, you know - education. Really important."

Xander made eye contact with Dawn, knowing that nobody - even a Key made human - could withstand Angel's attempts at bonding all by themselves. "Mm, books good," Xander teased. "Learn big words."

Wesley, of all people, was the one to speak next, interrupting whatever Angel had been about to say. "Anya, how are you enjoying your holiday?"

"Very much," Anya replied, easily warming to the topic. "It's the first time I've traveled since I became human. Did you know they serve you food on the airplanes? And there's a little button you can press to call the servant girl to bring you more. But if you ask three times she takes your tray away and won't come anymore no matter how many times you try to summon her." She turned to Xander. "They should tell you that in the in-flight magazine."

Wesley nodded. "We had trouble with our flight as well. The takeoff from JFK was almost delayed. And they forgot Angel's meal order."

Dawn looked confused. "They have blood? Wait a minute - they bring meals to the luggage?"

"Luggage?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, you know," Dawn replied, "Spike had to brown bag it. They delivered a meal to your box? What airline did you take?"

"Box?" Angel asked, looking for all the world like they were speaking a language he didn't understand. Which was funny, considering English was supposed to be his native tongue. "Like - like a booth? In a restaurant?"

"We flew United?" Wesley said, attempting to help.

"We flew Virgin," Xander said. He grinned at the memory. "They have video games! In the back of every seat!"

Angel gave Xander a distracted look. "We had TV monitors," he said, then turned his attention back to Dawn. "Box?"

"Big square thing," Dawn said. She held her hands out to indicate the shape. "Lightproof." When that still didn't clear things up for Angel, she tried again. "Vampire transportation module?"

Though he seemed only half a lap ahead of Angel in the confusion marathon, Wesley ventured his own explanation. "We traveled in the plane itself. Between our connecting flight from LAX and the time difference, Angel was able to keep out of direct sunlight for the entire journey. The only danger was the brief layover in New York City. But we managed."

"Really?" Dawn said, impressed. "Spike said there was too much risk that the flight would be held up and he'd catch fire somewhere over the Atlantic."

Suddenly Angel's frown wasn't so funny. "Spike? Dawn, did - did you say Spike?"

"Yeah," Dawn nodded, nibbling one of her fries. "You know - about 5'10", bleached blond hair. Vampire. Older than dirt. Lives in a crypt. Don't you know this already? I thought you guys used to be roommates."

"Used to be," Angel replied. He shot a pointed look at Xander. "Why - why are we talking about Spike?"

"I don't know," Xander said, taking the look and throwing it right back at Angel. "Why do you care?"

"Is Spike here?" Angel asked, though it was obvious by now that he'd guessed the answer.

"He came with us to England," Anya said helpfully. "In a box."

"Us?"

"Angel - " Wesley said, his voice low.

"Yes," Anya said. She took a sip of her soda as she gave the rest of the information. "Giles disagreed but Buffy insisted that he come."

"As what?" Angel scoffed. "A prisoner? Why are you guys hauling him over to England with you?"

"Buffy said he could help with Dawn," Anya replied.

Dawn made a sound of annoyance. "I don't need a babysitter!"

Wesley looked appalled. "Surely you don't mean to say that you're using someone who calls himself William the Bloody for babysitting services?"

Xander put down his hamburger, glad to hear another human agreeing with him. "Thank you! I said from the beginning that this was a bad idea. But no..."

"I don't know," Anya said, adding salt to her fries. "I think he's pretty good at it."

Angel nearly stood up out of his chair as he laid his hands flat on the table and had his eyes blazing into Xander's. "You have Spike around Dawn?"

Xander held his hands up in the air, disclaiming responsibility. "Buffy has Spike around Dawn."

"What the Hell is she thinking?"

"I don't know," Xander replied, "What could she be thinking? She's going nuts trying to take care of all of us. So if she decides to use someone who can watch over Dawn and doesn't mind taking a few bullets or demon-bites along the way I say more power to her. Especially if it means Spike ends up dead."

"Xander!" Dawn said, disapproving, "Spike's way too strong for that."

Angel looked shocked. "Dawn!"

Wesley gave a puzzled frown. "This is some sort of method for killing Spike? Wouldn't a stake to the heart be more effective?"

"Oh no," Anya said. "We don't stake Spike now."

"I'll do it for you," Angel replied.

"No you won't!" Dawn said. "Buffy would kill you!"

"Forgive me," Wesley said, talking over all of them and bringing the conversation back to the point. "But - what on earth made any of this seem like a reasonable or sane idea?"

"He's got a chip in his head," Anya explained. "He can't hurt people anymore."

"A what?" Wesley asked.

"A chip," Xander replied. "It zaps him whenever he gets too evil-y. So no more hitting, no more feeding, no more killing. And, surprisingly, no more wearing white after Labor Day."

Wesley looked surprised, and even a little interested. "And this keeps Spike from harming anything?"

"Just humans," Dawn said, biting down on her burger. "Whenever he tries he gets a major headache. At least a five on the Richter scale."

"Not unlike a spike to the head," Xander pointed out.

"Oh," Wesley said, taken aback. "When did this happen?"

"Last year," Anya said.

Wesley sat back, looking thoughtful. "How on earth...?"

"Those commando-types put it in," Xander said. "Don't ask me, I'm not the science guy."

"So how has he been surviving?" Wesley asked.

Angel spoke up. A strange light glinted in his eyes. "Animal blood." He looked at Xander. "That's it, isn't it?"

Xander nodded. "But wait, it gets better! It's bagged blood! Spike can't even fight the sinister poodle any more! All his meals these days have to come equipped with a little straw." Seeing Angel's mouth twitch, Xander kept going. "And a ceramic mug which says 'Kiss the Librarian'."

Angel gave out a bark of laughter, then began snickering. "Spike..."

"I know," Xander said, laughing right along with him.

"I mean -" Angel said, and Xander felt a rare moment of bonding with him, "Spike..."

Xander grinned. "I know!"

"He's still cooler than you," Dawn said, sounding annoyed but looking mostly at Angel.

"Dawn," Angel blinked. He seemed confused by her reaction, and tried to sober up accordingly. "Um - I..."

Dawn ignored him, actually looking away as she added. "And he doesn't treat me like a kid."

Even Xander could feel the buzzkill of Dawn's comment. Angel, the actual target, fared no better. A look of hurt flashed in his eyes and all hints of the laughing fit faded. "Dawn. Um," Angel tried, failed, then tried again. "See the thing is -"

Dawn stood up, grabbing her tray. "I'm going to play in the arcade," she said, looking only at Xander. She quickly picked up the last of her lunch and stalked off across the room to dump them into the trash. Angel watched her, totally deflated. "Um..." he said, to no one in particular.

Wesley glanced at him, reaching out a hand. "Angel?"

Angel didn't notice. "I should - um -" He stood up, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I'm going to -" He made a vague gesture towards the archway that lead towards the men's room, located just past the arcade. "'Scuse me," he said, turning and walking away.

Wesley watched him, then stood up as well. "Perhaps I should go after him. Make sure he's all right." Without really waiting to see what Xander or Anya's reply was, Wesley vanished in the direction Angel had left in.

Xander, not particularly caring what Angel was brooding about this minute, took the opportunity to finish his lunch while snagging some of Wesley's fries.

Wesley walked through the tight space of the arcade. It took a moment before his eyes adjusted to the light well enough for him to find the doorway leading to the men's room. He pushed through it and was immediately assaulted by homicidal clowns.

Then he realized they were only pictures.

"I never did like this place," he muttered. He closed the door behind him and tried to search for a spot of black amongst the loud artwork. As far as he could tell, the bathroom was empty. "Angel?"

"Here," Angel's voice came to him from around a corner. Wesley stepped forward and saw him beside the hand dryers - and a rather incongruous tank of live, tropical fish. Angel was leaning against the wall with his arms folded in front of him. He looked up and gave Wesley a rueful grin. "Always had a way with kids, didn't I?"

Wesley had to shrug. "I honestly wouldn't know. You never - I wasn't privy to such things, back in Sunnydale."

Angel nodded, accepting this. "Yeah, can't imagine Buffy would have told you much about it. Dawn and I..." Angel searched for the words.

Wesley made a guess. "Didn't get along as well as you and Buffy?"

"Yeah," Angel said, then stopped, looking worried. "Wes - sorry. I shouldn't - "

"It's all right," Wesley said. He found himself touched that Angel would not want to speak about Buffy in front of him. "Truly I don't mind. But thank you."

"Thanks," Angel said, then paused to gather his words again. "I tried. I cared about Dawn. I still do." A nostalgic smile shaped his lips. "I remember this one time when I saved her from a demon at school. And the night she threw up in my apartment. And all the times she interrupted Buffy and I when - " Angel actually winced, glancing at Wesley. "Sorry."

"Still all right," Wesley said. He moved closer, hoping to reassure Angel with his presence, if nothing else. "You've fond memories of Dawn. It's understandable."

"Yeah," Angel sighed. "It was like - I could help. I could watch over her and - and give Buffy one less thing to worry about. You know?"

"I do," Wesley said. He didn't add that he hadn't shared Angel's problem since Dawn had never allowed Wesley to come near her. Dawn had made it clear from the start that she only liked having Wesley close enough so she could place "Kick me" signs on his back, or so she could steal his Watcher books and scribble "Property of El Dweebo" on the inside covers. "It must be hard for you. Seeing her again, that is."

Angel nodded. "I did the right thing. Coming to Los Angeles - everything. It was the right thing to do. But when I see her again..." Angel looked away, "I feel like I abandoned her too."

"I'm sure she understands that," Wesley said. He slipped his arms around Angel, holding him as much as Angel would allow. "She seems angry now, but she's a teenaged girl. She's not sure yet who she is, or what she should be feeling. Seeing you again, undoubtedly remembering as much of the good and the bad as you do - she's not certain how to react. Not certain, I'm sure, of how you feel. But you mustn't let that get to you."

Angel unfolded his arms, holding Wesley in return. "You think?"

Wesley smiled. "Well, never having actually been a fourteen year old girl -"

"I'd noticed that."

Wesley was glad for the hint of humor that lurked in Angel's eyes. "Yes. As I say - of course I cannot speak from experience, but I suspect even still that your actions, however much she tries to deny it, do mean something to her. You were an important part of her life. I think she would be grateful for any gesture from you to show that in spite of your distance, you do care. That she might count on you, if she needs to."

Angel appeared to consider this. "I don't want to give her false hopes."

"No one is suggesting you do," Wesley said. "But you can be honest. You can still show her that you bear her no animosity. That your leaving was not due to anything that she did. She may not show it now, but in the long run she will appreciate it."

"I suppose," Angel said. He looked at Wesley. "How do you know all this anyway?"

"Because that's how I felt when you -" Wesley stopped, suddenly hearing what he was saying. "That is, I'm sure she - "

"Oh God," Angel whispered, awareness becoming visible in his eyes. "Wes, I'm sorry."

"It's not the point," Wesley said, dismissing it at once. "We were discussing you and Dawn."

"I can stop for a moment to talk about you," Angel replied.

Wesley smiled. "Perhaps. But there is plenty of time for that later. You and I are together in Los Angeles. Dawn is here now."

Angel looked uncertain. "Wes - I didn't leave because of you. I didn't fire you because of anything you did."

"I know," Wesley said. "Or rather, I guessed. When you came to me and told me you were showing -"

"An interest," Angel finished. His hand was firm against Wesley's back. "You know, Wes - I'm still interested."

Wesley's mouth felt dry. "I - I think we've strayed from our point a little. Dawn - "

"I believe what you told me about Dawn. Do you believe that it wasn't your fault that I sent you away?"

"I do," Wesley said. They were closer now. Probably closer than they should have been in such a public arena. "At least - I'm learning to."

"Good," Angel said. He moved forward. Their lips were practically touching. "'Cause there's nothing about you that I want to send away."

Wesley felt his eyes start to close. "Angel..."

"Kinda the opposite, in fact," Angel said. And with that he ended the distance between them, and covered Wesley's mouth with a kiss.

Dawn was well on the way to soundly defeating Anya for the title of Whack-A-Mole Champion by the time Xander finished his lunch and joined them in the arcade. Realizing his hands were still greasy from the food, Xander took a temporary rain check on the next round of mole-whacking so he could stop by the bathroom and wash up.

The men's room, he found, had been decorated in a charming motif of Barnum & Bailey's worst nightmares. He shook his head, figuring the mural made as much sense for the overall theme of the Dungeon as, well, having an arcade and a café that served pizza.

Xander made his way to the sink and washed his hands. Then, as long as opportunity presented itself, he stood back and tried to fix his hair. There was just something about the London air that was not friendly to any hairstyle more recent than the bowl cut.

Only then, with his hand halfway through the first lock, did Xander notice Wesley's reflection.

"Um," Xander said, feeling a vague tinge of worry at the sight of the strange contortions that Wesley seemed to be undergoing against the wall. "Are you all right there, Wesley? Too many late nights with the Big Book of Pompous Pronouncements, or is the décor just making you dizzy?" When there was no response, Xander turned around, still trying to see if he could quip his way out of the situation. "'Cause I've got to say -"

Wesley turned around, suddenly revealing who was between him and the wall. "Xander!"

Xander figured it took him maybe a minute, minute and a half before he remembered that speaking might help out - or at least be expected - in a moment like this. "Oh," he said, staring straight past Wesley to the man - vampire - behind him. "Angel. Hi. Er. Hi. Didn't see you there."

"Xander," Angel said. His voice was enviably level. Xander couldn't help but notice that his hand was resting on Wesley's shoulder, which pretty much killed the hopes of the five billion things Xander wished he'd been looking at.

"Angel," Xander replied. Names were good, he thought. He could cope with names. "Wesley. Angel and Wesley. And I thought the strangest thing I'd see in here was the clowns." He paused, then frowned as something else caught his eye. "And that fishtank."

Angel stepped forward, moving so that Wesley was now partially behind him. "Xander, I, um -"

"Yeah," Xander said, glancing at Wesley. "Um. Definitely um."

"I know," Angel said. He paused, then added. "Look, I'm not evil again -"

"Good to know," Xander said. He almost felt like laughing. "One question - no offense, isn't that what you'd say if you were evil too? I mean, I'm no expert but I don't ever remember you wearing an 'Ask me About Being Evil' pin even in the bad old days."

Wesley moved forward. "He isn't, Xander, honestly. Angel and I - well it's rather complicated."

"I can see that," Xander said, gesturing to the both of them. "Angel and evil - always a complicated issue. But you know that, Wes, after all, every time you two make the beast with one invisible back you've got to wonder if you'll be enjoying Apocalypse or afterglow."

"It isn't like that, Xander," Wesley snapped, "Angel would never endanger anyone that way."

Now he really did feel like laughing. "Oh really?" Xander said. "So Angel was just helping you with your contact lens, Wes? 'Cause to me that looked like Olympic-level tonsil hockey. And you wear glasses."

Angel looked pissed. "Xander -"

Wesley became flustered, but kept on going. "Yes, Angel and I were - are - Angel's not evil again!"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Yet."

Now it was Wes's turn to look annoyed. "He isn't."

"Look, Wes," Xander replied, "you don't have the world's best track record as an early evil warning system. Remember Faith? Personally, I'm not willing to bet my continued existence on your sophisticated observation skills."

"That wasn't Wesley's fault," Angel said. He met Xander's eyes, once again looking as ticked off as he had during the whole Spike conversation. "If you have a problem with me, Xander, take it up with me. Leave him out of this."

"I have a problem with you," Xander said, not really wanting to get on the digression but happy to climb on board the train now that Angel had put it on the tracks. "You know that. You hurt Buffy. That's not cool. You killed Ms. Calendar. That's not cool. In fact, you've pretty much hurt everyone I care about at one point or another. And every damn time you do it you claim 'It wasn't me! It was my imaginary evil twin!' and get everyone's sympathy. And there's nothing I can do about it. Okay, I'm used to that. But you can't expect me to come in here and see you playing Three Minutes in the Closet with Oblivious Boy there and not take an interest. After all, with you bringing out Mr. Happy also tends to bring out Mr. Deranged Psychopathic Serial Killer. And I'm sorry, hearing '10 o'clock and all is well' from Wesley doesn't exactly do it for me."

Xander paused, but turned to Wesley and kept speaking before anyone else could. "No, it's not your fault Faith was evil. But you were a Watcher. You were supposed to watch her. Last I heard that involved, oh, noticing things and perhaps even mentioning them. Not just smiling politely as she sauntered off to help destroy the town."

"I tried to help!" Wesley said. "I did what I could to get the Council's assistance! I did not sit there obliviously while she became evil!"

"Wes, stay with me here," Xander said, "Faith, Council - not the point. You, Angel, sex - bad. Anyone, Angel, sex - bad. Angel, sex, bad."

"The curse isn't that specific!" Angel said. "Because if it was, believe me, I would have turned ten times over by now."

"What?" Xander asked. "Boys don't count? You didn't inhale? And by the way, since when is everybody gay?"

"We don't know -" Angel started to say, then stopped, thinking for a moment. "What do you mean, 'everybody'?"

Xander shrugged. "You, Wes, Willow, Tara, the entire lineup of NBC's Must See Thursday - "

"Tara?" Angel asked, trying to place the name.

"Willow's girlfriend," Xander explained.

Angel and Wesley both nodded before Angel resumed his point. "It's not about sex. Why does everyone keep thinking it's about sex?"

"Because it is?" Xander asked. "Look, Angel, you could have held hands with Buffy in wheatfields and let the wind blow your hair back - well, maybe not your hair - forever and nothing bad would have happened. It wasn't until you decided to play Hide the Cold, Undead Salami that all Hell broke loose. 'Cause it did."

"I'm aware of that, Xander," Angel said, flatly. "I, more than anybody, am aware of that. You know, after actually going to Hell you remember a few things and don't feel too inclined to repeat whatever it was that got you there. I'm not trying to turn evil again."

"Sex is not the key which brings out Angelus," Wesley added. "The curse was broken by - by a large number of factors."

"Factors," Xander repeated. He shook his head, then grabbed a paper towel to wipe the water off of his hands. "Right. You know what? This is not my problem. We'll go back to Sunnydale, you'll go back to LA. And as we wait for you to trip over a 'factor' and reunite Angel with his sense of style, it'll be a comfort to know that you'll be the first to die in a painful, slow, and almost certainly undignified manner." Then, as a final thought, he turned to Angel and suggested, "Take pictures."

With that Xander stormed out of the men's room, feeling angrier than he had since - well, since the last time he'd had to deal with Angel. He made his way over to the Whack-A-Mole table, grabbed one of the hammers, and gave the game two tremendous hits, unleashing his frustration.

Xander then unleashed a cry of agony as the second hit rebounded and smacked him right above the eyes.

"Xander -" Angel's voice came to him through the stars of pain.

Xander sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Nope. No good. I can still remember," he blinked his eyes to clear them, then turned to Angel. "Can we stop this now? In fact, can we stop this fifteen minutes ago? Because I'm all three of the monkeys - I didn't want to see this, I didn't want to hear this, and I really, really don't want to speak this to Buffy."

Dawn finally picked up on the fact that something was up. "Tell Buffy what?" she asked.

"Buffy," Angel said, the comment obviously hitting home. "Where is she?"

"She's at Oxford," Anya replied. "Tell Buffy what?"

"Oxford?" Angel asked.

Knowing it would make more sense to him, Xander gave his reply to Wesley. "Watcher safehouse. Aylesbury."

Wesley nodded as Dawn leaned over the Whack-A-Mole table and waved a hand, trying to get everyone's attention. "Guys? Tell Buffy what?"

Angel flashed a guilty but non-committal look in Dawn's direction. "Nothing."

"Oh no," Dawn said. "We know that nothing. We hate that nothing. That's a something voice. What's wrong?"

"Don't worry about it, Dawn," Xander said, then grabbed the first not entirely untrue explanation he could think of. "Angel and Wes just found out that Judy Garland is dead."

Dawn looked at him strangely but didn't argue.

"How long?" Angel asked, his attention once again on Xander.

Xander did a quick mental calculation of how much time was left until their trip back home. "Five days."

Angel nodded, taking that in. "Fine." He stepped back, fished in his pocket, and pulled out what looked like a London Dungeon photo receipt with some words scribbled on the back of it. He then fished in his other pocket and pulled out a few pounds. "We have to go now," he said, handing the paper over to Wesley. "We're going now," he said again. He held his hand out, lamely offering the money in it to Dawn, who took it from him. "Here," Angel said, as though it were an explanation. "Buy - buy yourself something you'd like, ok? It - it was nice seeing you again."

"Bye, Angel," Dawn said, smiling, but confused. "Thanks?"

Angel replied with only a bittersweet smile in Dawn's direction and a courteous nod of his head to Anya, and then he and Wesley made their way outside.

The train back to Oxford was humming along nicely as Xander, Anya and Dawn got into the bar car, found a private place to sit, then got lost in their own respective worlds. Anya looked through her souvenir purchases, Xander found himself thinking a lot, and Dawn curled up on one of the benches with the gifts she'd gotten herself, courtesy of Angel's money - a copy of The Ultimate Jack the Ripper Sourcebook, and an endearing, floppy-eared, small stuffed bunny rabbit. Both of which had been for sale at the London Dungeon. Xander gave up hope of understanding it.

Finally, Xander decided he needed to talk. But not while Dawn could hear him. "Hey, Dawn?"

Dawn turned a page without responding to him.

"Dawn?"

Again there was no response.

"Yo," Xander said at last. "Small and morbid one?"

Dawn finally looked over at him. "What's up?"

Xander held out a few bills which totaled either twenty pounds or a thousand dollars - or both, for all he could tell. "Would you mind grabbing us some sodas from the bar?"

Dawn closed her book casually and took the money from him. "Sure. What do you want?"

"Something brown," Xander said. "Preferably with bubbles in it. And no alcohol for you, young lady."

Dawn grinned at the comment, then made her way over to the bar. Xander was glad to see that there was a decent-sized line ahead of her. It meant he and Anya would have a little while to talk.

Anya, in the meanwhile, was right in the middle of some monologue that Xander hadn't even known she'd started. She paused only long enough to give Dawn's rabbit a look of disgust while covering it with a shopping bag, then kept on talking. "Isn't this so cute?" she asked, holding up the photo of Xander getting his head chopped off. "It's such a perfect souvenir! Aren't we a handsome couple? And it's so appropriate, considering my former profession. Of course, if it had been real, there would have been a lot more blood. And I don't think your arm would hang at that angle either. Oh I'm glad we went! Didn't you have a good time?"

"Actually," Xander said, sitting back in his chair, "not so much."

"Oh I know you didn't like the recreation of the Great Fire of London," Anya replied. "But you were fine once we got you out into the fresh air."

"True," Xander said. "But actually I was thinking more like the recreation of the Great Asshole of Sunnydale - Los Angeles - whatever." Then, off of Anya's perplexed look, he added. "You'll never believe what I saw in the bathroom."

"Insane clowns?"

Xander looked at her in surprise. "Did they have those in the ladies' room too?"

"Oh yes," Anya nodded. "And fish."

"What is with that place?" Xander asked, then realized he was getting off-track. "Yes, but that's not what I meant. Angel. Kissing Wesley."

"So?" Anya shrugged. Then, getting the full implications of what Xander had said, she leapfrogged over to her next point. "Hey, we've never had sex in a bathroom!"

"Yes, we have!" Xander protested.

"Your bathroom doesn't count," Anya replied.

Xander stared at her for a beat, then continued. "Anyway. Point being, Angel kissing Wesley is the gateway drug to Angel having sex with Wesley. And Angel having sex with anyone is the gateway to a world of hurt."

"Angel's evil again?" Anya asked.

Xander shrugged. "He says not."

"Well that's all right then." Anya held up the picture of the two of them again. "Do you think we should hang this on your refrigerator?"

"Sure," Xander said, then continued. "Thing is, what if he's lying? Or what if he turns evil next week? Words can't begin to express what a bad idea this is. It ranks right up there with 'Let's put all our money in dot coms - they're bound to make a profit one of these days!'"

"Actually," Anya said, "With a diversified portfolio it can be an advantage to put some of one's money into a business which is not yet showing a profit because -"

"Consider this an undiversified portfolio," Xander made a cutting motion with his hand. "No diversity here. This is 100% What the Hell Are They Thinking, Incorporated."

"Are you going to tell Buffy?" Anya asked.

"Oh, no," Xander said at once. Then, thinking, added "Not if I can help it. I guess she needs to know eventually, but I really don't want to be the one to tell her. Besides, she's got enough to deal with. And this is the closest thing she's had to a vacation in, well, ever. After all, it's not like there's a time limit. She can always talk to him about it back in sunny California."

"But you told him where she was," Anya pointed out.

Xander shrugged again. "Yeah, well, if he gets the guts to do his own dirty work, all the better."

"She's going to wonder how he found out," Anya said.

"Yeah," Xander admitted, "But I'm thinking once she finds out about the Angel/Wesley combination platter - not going to care as much."

Anya mulled this over, then suddenly grinned. "Xander, I don't suppose you'd ever -"

"No."

Anya sighed. "Oh well."

Xander gave her a comforting pat on the leg. "Don't tell Buffy about this, okay? In fact, don't tell anyone. Angel's got the rest of the week to show up and take responsibility for this brilliant concept. If he doesn't, no big, I'll tell her once we're safe, home, and away from Watching eyes."

Anya nodded in agreement just as Dawn walked up. Dawn handed out the sodas, then sat back down again. "So what are you guys talking about?"

"Angel," Anya said, as she wiped the dirt off of the lid of her soda can.

"Oh," Dawn said. She picked her book up and found the place where she'd left off. "Yeah, it was kinda weird seeing him again. And who knew he was such a fan of Judy Garland?"

Xander choked on his soda, then quickly patted himself dry. "He's always been a qu - er, odd duck," Xander replied. He leaned forward, meeting Dawn's eyes. "Listen, maybe we could ix-nay on the elling-tay uffy-Bay... um..." Xander trailed off, then turned to Anya for help. "How do you do vowel words again?"

Luckily, Dawn got it. "Put the sentence out of its misery," she said. "You don't want to tell Buffy we saw Angel? Probably a good idea. It'd make her majorly upset. Again. No problem." She mimed zipping her lip and locking it.

"Cool," Xander said. Done with his coughing fit, he took another sip of his soda, breathed easy, and prepared to relax for the rest of the trip.

Anya, in the meanwhile, joined Dawn in her reading, pointing to Jack's name in the title.. "I met him you know..."

Angel's eyes opened.

Beside him, Wesley slept. The younger man had been near-exhausted by the day's activities and had quickly slipped into unconsciousness after Angel had made love with him.

Wes hadn't moved. By the looks of it, he wasn't likely to anytime soon.

What then?

Angel threw his senses outward, letting the world fold into his brain as normal, daily sensations gave way to a vampire's perceptions. The shadows of the room melted into the shapes of furniture and discarded clothing. The hotel walls groaned with weight. Bits of mold dusted the blanket beneath his hand...

And the hallway possessed the sound of a single, human heartbeat.

Angel knew at once the human didn't belong. Everything about the man's - and there was no doubt that it was male - presence screamed that he was out of place. Scent, feeling and sound told Angel the man's position: in the hallway, on his way to their room, and attempting, as best he could, to be stealthy.

Angel didn't need to know any more.

He got out of bed, swinging his weight silently to the floor and making sure that he didn't wake Wesley. Snagging a pair of pants from his suitcase, he pulled them on and stuffed his copy of the room key into his pocket. For a moment he debated bringing the crossbows, but abandoned the idea as impractical. He didn't want to waste time loading them when he could be confronting the intruder. Instead he unlocked the door as quietly as he could, checked once again to be certain Wesley was still sleeping, then stepped outside, closing and locking the door behind him.

It was then the work of a moment to move down the hallway, grab the man by his shirt, haul him to the staircase, and dangle him over the railing.

"And to think I was pissed off that this place didn't have elevators," Angel said. "Seven flights up with nothing between you and the lobby but air. Lousy way to go. So why are you chancing it, Stuart?"

The Watcher - for it was he - struggled vainly to make Angel release his hand. "I - I wanted to see Wesley."

Angel shook him, annoyed at the pointless resistance. "You wanted to see Wes? That's great. I'll be sure to pass that message along the minute he gives a damn. In the meanwhile, what's really going on?"

"I told you!" Stuart said, "I wanted to - "

"Lower your God-damned voice. Because if you wake Wesley up I will drop you."

Stuart swallowed, then spoke in a whisper. "Truly, I only wanted to visit."

"At 2 a.m.?" Angel scoffed. "Two in the morning isn't a social call. And you Watchers aren't exactly the visiting type. So what was it? Coming to spy on us again? Or maybe give Wes another job offer as long as he doesn't mind licking your boots for a few years? You know you guys are a real bunch of pricks - anyone ever told you that?"

"Angelus - Angel," Stuart hastened to correct himself at Angel's murderous look, "On my s - on my honor, I came as a friend."

"You reek of fear and lies, Stu," Angel said. "That doesn't say 'friend' to me. Neither does your job title. Did you come here alone?"

Stuart nodded.

"Well, you're leaving that way too." Angel tightened his hand in Stuart's shirt, telling himself that he was not allowed to 'accidentally' let go. "You don't see Wesley tonight. You don't see Wes any night. And your Watcher buddies aren't allowed near him either. Forget that, and let's just say you'll find out what it's like when you're not on my good side. Got it?"

Wise enough not to speak, Stuart nodded again.

"Good," Angel pulled Stuart back over the railing, paused, then casually dropped Stuart down the first flight of stairs. The Watcher tumbled head over heels down the thickly carpeted staircase. "Now get the Hell out of my sight."

Angel stood at the railing long enough to watch Stuart make his way down the spiraling stairs and out the front entrance. Only when he heard the hotel door swing closed and latch firmly shut did he allow himself to go back to the room.

He entered as quietly as he'd left, making sure to block the faint light from the hallway so that it wouldn't fall across Wesley's face and into his eyes.

Angel locked the room up tight again, throwing his senses out once more just to double check that yes, everything was all right now.

Finding nothing, he turned to the bed.

And stopped.

His hand twitched. He could feel the fibers of Stuart's shirt against his fingers. Taste the fear that had radiated from Stuart's body. Hear the soft thud of Stuart's head against the landing.

Angel looked at Wes, curled up in a tangle of sheets and pillows, still blissfully asleep.

Angry, and less ashamed of himself than he felt he should be, Angel turned away. He sat down in one of the wooden chairs by the table, angling himself so that, at least, he could look at Wes. Unable to let himself fall back to sleep - to touch Wesley so soon after what had happened - Angel instead sat still for hours, watching his lover and thinking of everything the past day had contained.

He stayed there until an hour before sunrise. At which point he stood, dressed himself fully, and went out.

"Wes?"

Wesley stirred. He was dreaming about the English countryside, and horses, and the feeling of the wind against his face.

"Wes? C'mon, now. Wake up."

There was a sensation. Something touched him. He turned and realized it was a hand. The reality of that was enough to make the dream fade away. He blinked, and the blurry form of Angel appeared before him. Angel was squatting down beside the bed, brushing Wesley's arm with his fingers.

"Hey," Angel said. He smiled, giving Wesley a once-over. "Morning."

Wesley let his head rest back down against his pillows. "Morning," he replied. The sound was mumbled even to his own ears.

Angel tilted his head, watching him. "Did I wake you too early?"

"That depends on what time it is."

"Little after sunrise," Angel said.

Wesley allowed this to trickle through his half-asleep mind. Finally something clicked. "You're dressed," he said, frowning at Angel's dark clothes. Another thought occurred to him. "And you're freezing." Wesley reached over to cover Angel's icy hand with his own. "Don't tell me you went out."

"I got breakfast," Angel said, by way of both apology and explanation. He held up a paper bag and motioned to a few others that rested on the bedside table. "Muffins, fruit, cheese, couple of hard boiled eggs, some deli meat, tea and blood. And some Fig Newtons."

"And the rugby team which shall be eating all of that arrives when?" Wesley asked. He propped himself up on one hand to take a look at Angel's purchases. "Honestly, Angel, you know I don't eat that much. Or are the Fig Newtons your new preference?"

"Oh yeah," Angel said. He stood and shrugged out of his leather coat, tossing it casually over the table. "Gives the blood an extra-special taste after you dunk some in it. Helps me forget the temperature."

"Yes. Thank you very much for that mental image." Wesley sat up and put on his glasses. "Just what I needed on an empty stomach.." Wesley paused, then checked to be certain Angel knew he was joking. "It was kind of you to do."

Angel waved it off. He pulled out the container of blood, opened it, and took a few swallows. "I was up. Knew you'd be hungry."

"Still, thank you." Wesley found the bag which contained a paper cup filled with tea and helped himself to it. He was pleased to discover that Angel had already sweetened it for him. He motioned for Angel to sit down beside him. "It's not often I'm treated with breakfast in bed."

Angel shook his head, continuing to stand as he drank the blood down. He smiled at Wesley's comment. "I like treating you. And since I can't cook..." Angel motioned around their sparse hotel room, which held nothing useful for food preparation beyond a small, intermittently working refrigerator.

"I suppose if there are any leftovers we could try putting them in that," Wesley said. "It would certainly be better than nothing."

"It's kinda cold outside too," Angel motioned towards the curtains, which had been fastened tightly shut. "Sun keeps coming out but some of that stuff might keep if we put it on the window ledge."

"It might keep in the temperature but I can guarantee that we'd be robbed by pigeons," Wesley said. "And if the sun comes out properly the air will warm up. No. Let me see how much I can consume and we'll make a plan from there."

Angel nodded, finishing off his blood and throwing the container away. He moved into the tiny alcove that served as both their bathroom and their shower and poured himself a glass of water with which to rinse his teeth. "How's it look? I wasn't sure what you wanted."

Wesley unpacked the purchases, attempting to lay the food out in a sensible order. "It seems all right, Angel. I can't find anything to complain about." Wesley frowned, noticing something. "Except..."

Angel came back out of the alcove, wiping his hands on a towel. "What? Is it the fruit? I know you don't like apples as much but the bananas didn't look ripe to me."

"No, the fruit's fine," Wesley said. "It's just that you've forgotten something."

Angel looked uncertain. "What?"

Wesley pulled a small box out of one of the bags and held it up. "That I prefer mentholated?"

"Oh." Angel blinked, then looked sheepish. He reached out for the half-finished pack of cigarettes. "Sorry. Those are mine."

"Yes," Wesley said slowly. "I'd gathered that, inasmuch as I've never smoked in my life and you very well know it."

"Um, yeah," Angel said. He took the cigarettes and stuffed them into his pants pocket. "Sorry."

"And thus we find out the true reason for your skittish behavior," Wesley sat back against the headboard and folded his arms. "Angel, how long have you been awake?"

Angel appeared to consider. "Since two?"

"Two. In the morning," Wesley stated. "Which, considering the time which we both finally called it a night means that you had approximately - what? A minute of sleep?"

"It was longer than a minute," Angel tried to grin. "Easily two. Maybe three."

Wesley looked at him. "Angel -"

"Wesley, no," Angel said. He glanced at the door to their room guiltily. "There was - I mean I just couldn't. Sleep. I had - things. On my mind."

"So you stayed up all night to brood about them?" Wesley sighed. "I won't scold you, Angel, because God knows you do have a great deal to think about after the events of yesterday afternoon. But I don't like the thought of you sitting in the dark and - and -"

"Obsessing?" Angel helpfully supplied.

Wesley acknowledged this. "Yes. Obsessing about it. Or anything. That way lies madness. Angel, you have to develop better coping skills, or else every time that life gives you a nasty turn you'll, well..."

"Turn nasty," Angel finished. He sat down on one of the chairs, resting his hands on his knees. "I know. I do. I get that. I just - I don't know what to do with this."

Wesley picked up one of the muffins, pulled off a piece of it, and began eating. "Actually, Angel, I suspect that you do know what to do with this."

Angel looked away.

"Specifically," Wesley continued, "that you should speak with Buffy. About us."

Angel stood and began to pace. "I - I don't know, Wes. It's not going to make her happy. And... and..."

Wesley waited as Angel trailed off and stopped speaking. "You have to tell her," he said gently. "We both know that."

Angel sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Wes. "I know," he admitted. "I mean I knew this would have to happen. I just wish it didn't have to be like this. She's going back to Sunnydale in five days - couldn't I tell her then?"

"It's possible," Wesley said. "But by then Xander may have told her for you. Is that what you want?"

"No," Angel said. He turned and looked at Wesley, his eyes darker than usual.

Wesley guessed his thoughts. "Angel, I came into this relationship with you fully aware of your past, and your feelings. For her, at least," he added, with a slight grin. "Right now you need not concern yourself with us."

"I'm always concerned about us," Angel said. He sat sideways, facing Wesley properly. "And if you're not fully aware of my feelings about you then go right ahead and ask. I'll be happy to tell you. Or anyone."

As always, Angel's words took him slightly by surprise. But Wesley persevered. "Be that as it may. We've finished our research regarding the Magus Orb and are stuck here in England until our flight leaves. Why not take advantage of the opportunity that has been placed before you? The chance to go and speak with her without any of the distractions of Los Angeles or Sunnydale to get in your way? We could check out of our room and do it tonight, if you liked. Give you all the time you might need for this conversation."

"Oh no," Angel made a vetoing motion with his hand. "No. No checking out."

Wesley frowned. "Why on earth not?"

Angel looked at him as though he were mad. "'Scuse me? I heard what Xander said. Watcher safehouse. I'm not taking you anywhere near there."

"Angel, I hardly think -"

"They've been stalking you since we got here," Angel said. "You expect me to turn around and say 'Yeah, here's Wes - have at him'? No. Over my dead body. There's got to be another way."

Wesley looked at Angel and smiled.

Angel looked hesitant. "What?"

"You - protective," Wesley said, doing his best to imitate Angel's tone of voice. "I like it."

"Yeah, well," Angel shrugged, then met Wesley's eyes. "I care about you, Wes."

Wesley reached over to touch Angel's cheek. "I know. And I care for you. But I must respectfully point out that your single-mindedness has outwitted you again." At Angel's confused look, Wesley explained. "They are at a Watcher safehouse in Aylesbury. We, on the other hand, have our pick of hundreds of small hotels, motels and bed and breakfasts from which to choose. Both in Aylesbury and Oxford proper. Plenty of safe places for us to stay which would be outside of both the Council's sight and jurisdiction."

Angel mulled this over. "Are you sure?"

"I would not take foolish risks," Wesley said. "Believe me - I don't care to run into the Watchers right now any more than you do."

"I would've thought Buffy and Giles felt the same," Angel said. He moved to sit beside Wesley and helped himself to a sip of his tea. "What are they doing hanging around with them now?"

Wesley shrugged, using a napkin to clean off one of the apples. "The Watchers are notoriously persistent when it comes to keeping their eyes upon the Slayer. If I know them as well as I know Buffy, undoubtedly she and Giles are there to make it clear that the Council must stay well away from her, especially with her twenty-first birthday coming up within a year."

Angel handed the tea back. "You think?"

Wesley nodded. "I'm sure of it." He glanced at Angel. "Will you be ready to go by sundown?"

"No," Angel said. "But we should. Can you take care of making the plans? I'm not too familiar with the hundreds of bed and breakfasts in Aylesbury."

Wesley squeezed Angel's hand. "Consider it done."

It was raining. A faint drizzle. Nothing too out of the ordinary, particularly for England and particularly for that time of year. As he and Wesley made their way through a damp, muddy path, Angel tried to remember the last time he'd been in the English countryside in the rain.

Then he abandoned the idea because in truth he didn't care.

It had been a day since he and Wesley had left London. In that time they'd checked into a reasonably priced and well out of the way bed and breakfast, found a pub which served food Wesley swore he could tolerate, made friends with a butcher who didn't mind the odd request for the occasional quart of animal blood, made friends with a newspaper dealer who sold the brand of cigarettes that Angel liked, and found places where Angel could smoke them and not bother Wes with the smell.

And he'd seen Buffy.

He'd done it last night. Fresh off the train, Angel left Wes to handle the checking-in details while he, following Wes's directions, had made a beeline for the Watcher safehouse.

It'd been about a twenty minute walk.

Well past midnight when he'd gotten there, Angel hadn't worried that Buffy might be awake. Even here, so far from Sunnydale, he knew she'd stick to her late hours. Might even go out Slaying, if she could.

So he hadn't worried about the time of his arrival, or about whether or not she'd be able, at that hour, to talk.

He just hadn't counted on what seeing her would be like.

"You're brooding again," Wesley said. He was walking beside him, looking slightly disheveled from the rain. Angel thought about pulling Wes in under the protection of his coat.

"I do that," he shrugged. "Call it a theme."

"I'd noticed," Wes said, wryly. "Do you wish to speak about it?"

"Not yet," Angel said. He reached over and helped Wes step over a tree root that blocked their path. Then realized he was probably being stupid, since for all he knew Wes had spent more time crawling around British farmland than he ever had. Even so, Wes accepted the assistance and continued to hold Angel's hand when they were done. In the back of his mind, he allowed himself to be grateful for the small gesture on Wes's part.

"I'm here if you need me," was all Wes said in reply.

The moment with Buffy had been brief. He'd come up to the Watcher house and hadn't even bothered with the front door. He'd picked up her scent long before the property had come into view. Following it, and the sound of mock-fighting, Angel had walked through the trees that surrounded the house until he had made his way to the back.

There she'd been, as beautiful as ever. She'd been in a garden of some sort. There was ivy, and a flowerbed, and a rambling, waist-high stone wall that surrounded the entire yard. A large space of grass in the center had provided a natural Slayer practice area. From the looks of things Buffy had enjoyed herself - the grass was a muddy mess, the flowerbed was torn up, and her own dirty, sweat-covered appearance had clearly come from hours of work.

Only the sight of Spike there had ruined the view.

He'd known it. Xander had told him about this. Spike was in England. With Buffy. Angel had no right to be surprised. No right, given what he was about to tell Buffy, to even be angry about it.

Not that that stopped him.

"Rain's letting up," Wesley said. He paused, glancing down the path he and Angel had come. "We could go back."

"Are you cold?" Angel asked.

Wesley made a non-committal gesture, indicating the thick woolen sweater he had on over his usual shirt and tie. "I'm all right. This is only strange in comparison to Los Angeles heat. You?"

The faintest smile escaped him. "I'm a vampire, Wes, temperature really doesn't bother me."

"I know that," Wes said. He looked away, folding his arms around himself.

Angel realized Wes was worried about him. "Here," he said. He took his coat off and draped it over Wes's shoulders. "You're still healing. Don't want you getting sick."

Wes took the coat gratefully, slipping his hands into the sleeves. "Angel," he said, "perhaps it's none of my business but - we are friends. You - you could speak with me about this, if you needed to."

Angel shook his head, incredulous. "I think maybe this is one thing I'm not allowed to lean on you for."

The conversation was old. At least, it was as old as the duration of their visit. It had first begun when Angel had returned to their new quarters, the image of Spike and Buffy together burned into his mind, the muted sound of their conversation - a conversation he'd forced himself not to listen to, knowing if he did he might very well go mad - still teasing at his ears, and knowing, without a doubt, that he was not yet ready to face her.

Wes had approached him then and, in his quiet and unassuming way, asked if he'd needed to talk about it. Angel had told him no, and Wes had been understanding enough to drop it.

But the issue kept coming up. Kept coming up when Angel couldn't stop thinking about it and Wes, perceptive as he'd always been, knew that the ideas were eating Angel up inside. So Wes tried to get him to talk. And Angel kept refusing to let him.

For God's sake - Wes was his lover now. Even Angel had better manners than that.

"Why?" Wesley asked.

This startled him. "I would think it would be obvious, Wes."

"Angel," Wesley said, "I appreciate your effort to be chivalrous, but I disagree with any instinct which makes you hurt yourself for the sake of my feelings. I don't like seeing you in pain. Let me help if I can. Let me keep you from being alone in this."

Angel shook his head. "I've got no right to ask that of you."

"But you aren't asking me," Wes said. "I'm telling you to do it. I'm making the offer. You've only to accept." At Angel's silence, Wesley looked over his shoulder, down the remaining stretch of the path.. "You know it's not that much further."

Having walked this path himself the day before, Angel didn't have to ask what Wesley was referring to.

"If I remember the area correctly," Wes continued, "there's a rather nice park bench just a few minutes down the way. Right by the house, in fact."

Angel wasn't sure he liked the thought of Wesley anywhere near the Watcher house.

"I need to sit," Wesley said. "As you say, I'm still healing. Let me go, give myself a few moments to catch my breath. And, in the meanwhile, if you felt like..." Wes trailed off, clearly trying to think of a good word. "Meandering? Exploring what's around us? I wouldn't mind. I'd simply wait for you, and be there when you were done."

"You don't have to do this, Wes," Angel said.

"I'm not doing anything," Wesley replied. "I'm merely saying I need to rest. You're the one who's got an actual job ahead of you. That's entirely yours, Angel. I've got nothing to do with it."

"You've got a lot to do with it," Angel said. He took Wes's hand in his own again. "Thanks."

In response, Wes smiled, then allowed Angel to lead the way.

"How cool is that?" Dawn's voice interrupted what for Spike had been a peaceful reverie - in other words a lack of thinking about anything while he had a smoke.

Still, never one to turn the little bit down, Spike sat up on his bed and looked at the book in Dawn's hands. She'd placed herself down on the floor while reading about Jack the Bloody Overrated Ripper. Now that she had Spike's attention, she pointed to one of the more gruesome pictures.

Spike gave it the once-over. "Not bad. Bit of a waste on the blood and entrails if you ask me. But 10 out of 10 for presentation. Where'd you get that, pet?"

"London Dungeon," Dawn replied. Her hair did that little swing of enthusiasm that it did whenever she got on a topic she fancied. "They had the coolest stuff. They had these fake rats in cages, all sorts of real-life torture devices, this walking tour of Jack the Ripper's victims - and stuffed animals!"

Spike let his cigarette dangle out of his mouth as he took the plush rabbit Dawn held up and examined it. "Where's the blood come out?"

"No blood," Dawn replied, "Just bunny."

"Falling down on the theme a bit, aren't they?" Spike handed the bunny back, then exhaled a plume of smoke. "Real-life torture, eh? Did they have an eyeball hook?"

"Yeah," Dawn nodded. "In a display next to these really large scissors. And this little gadget that you can put on your thumb so you don't wear it out plucking eyeballs." She demonstrated the concept with her empty hands.

"Dru always said a thimble worked better," Spike said. He took in Dawn's purchases, a total forming inside his head. "You know, when I told you to go poking about Xander's suitcase I didn't expect you'd nick his wallet. I'm impressed."

"I didn't," Dawn said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Angel gave it to me."

Spike's eyebrows raised. "Angel gave you Xander's wallet?"

"No," Dawn said, drawing the word out slowly, "Angel gave me the money. He said to buy something I'd like."

"And you like murder and bunnies? Girl after my own heart," Spike took another drag, then hit the real meat of the conversation. "So, cupcake, when did you see Captain Killjoy?"

"At the Dungeon," Dawn said.

Spike snorted. "Was he one of the exhibits?"

"No," Dawn replied, "He was with Wesley."

It took a moment for Spike to place the name among the random bits of Sunnydale history Buffy and the Scoobies had made him privy to. "Buffy's old Watcher?"

"Yeah," Dawn confirmed. She looked up at the sound of the front doorbell and began to stand.

Spike held out a hand to stop her. "Hang on, luv. Remember you and me are keeping a low profile," Spike paused, heard the sound of footsteps heading for the front door, then went back to quizzing Dawn. "So, what was Angel doing in town?"

"Hunting for some magical item," Dawn turned a page in her book. "Wesley said something. I feel sure there were words. I wasn't paying attention. Wes was always pretty dull. Xander was the one who talked to them. They were all in the bathroom for, like, forty minutes."

Spike gave a soft snicker. He could think of a few things Angel could do in a bathroom for forty minutes but doubted the moping pain in everyone's ass had the balls to think of them. Instead he settled on telling Dawn. "Always knew Angel was constipated."

Dawn giggled. "Well he did look pretty upset when he came out."

Spike took a drag off of his cigarette. "Oh yeah? What about?"

Dawn shrugged, looking faintly puzzled. "I don't know. Xander said something about Angel and Wesley being sorry that Judy Garland died."

Spike frowned, catching Dawn's words like they were on a time delay. He took a couple of moments, his mind quickly adding two and two together and realizing that, yeah, Dawn'd just said what he thought she'd said.

It was too bloody perfect.

"Um - you ok?" Dawn asked, looking at him in concern as Spike fell over in the best fit of laughter he'd ever had.

"Yeah, yeah," Spike said, waving off her concern. He choked on the smoke that'd gotten caught in his lungs, still laughing. "Never better."

Buffy frowned when she heard the doorbell to the Watcher safehouse ring. There wasn't anyone in the Scooby gang who didn't have a key to get in and it wasn't like they were planning on having some actual Watcher company that night.

Still, Buffy figured it would be better to confront the intruder head-on. She did a quick check to make sure Dawn wasn't in sight, then headed to the entranceway. With a quip about Watchers pulling double time as Avon ladies at the ready, Buffy flung open the door -

- and found absolutely no one she'd expected standing there.

"Angel!" Buffy said, looking at him in shock.

Angel looked back at her somberly. "Buffy."

The pleasant evening rain had finally abated by the time Giles made his way back from his walk about town. He wiped a stray drop of water off of his glasses and took in a breath of the clear, wet air as he turned the final bend in the path towards their erstwhile home abroad. In spite of the difficulties of the trip, he almost found himself regretting their rapidly-approaching departure for Sunnydale. It was a shame there was no way of enjoying the trip without the unnecessary Council interference.

Giles's attention was drawn to a single figure sitting on a bench in front of the house. Slowing his walk in order to observe it, Giles had the strangest sensation that he could recognize the person. Only - the man he was thinking of didn't tend to be dressed in black leather overcoats.

"Wesley?" Giles asked, approaching the younger man from behind. "What - what are you doing here?"

The painfully earnest ex-Watcher stood up, turning around and offering his hand to Giles in greeting. "Rupert," Wesley said with a familiarity which really wasn't warranted. "I didn't expect to see you. What are you doing here?"

Giles gave the courtesy of a quick return shake, then held up the newspaper he'd just fetched in town as an explanation for why he was out and about. "I asked you first," he said by way of reply.

Wesley ran his hands down the front of his pants in an almost nervous manner, glancing in the direction of the house. "I - yes. Well. I," he stopped, then tried again. "Yes. The thing is, I've - "

"Developed a formula to strip the English language of all meaning?" Giles supplied.

Wesley gave a polite smile in reaction to this. "Yes. Um. I'm here with - with Angel, actually."

Giles suddenly realized who Wesley's coat had been reminding him of. And, with the reminder, he immediately asked. "Is he evil again?"

"No," Wesley replied.

"Oh good," Giles said, glad to have gotten that out of the way, even if it did mean having to think of things to speak with Wesley about. "So what brings you here?"

"Yes - er," Wesley glanced at the house again, then turned his attention back to Giles. "Rupert, I was wondering... Do - do you know anything about Stuart?"

Giles paused. That certainly wasn't a question he'd been expecting. He tried to place the name. "Stuart... Stuart Anderson?"

"Yes," Wesley said, warming to the topic a bit. "He - I'd heard that there'd been some incident?"

"Incident?" Giles asked, genuinely curious. "Not that I'm aware of. Despite being back on the payrolls, I'm hardly kept apprised of the latest Watcher gossip."

Wesley frowned at him. "You're on the payroll again?"

"Angel," Buffy said, once the two of them reached a spot in the backyard where presumably they could have some privacy. "So did not get the memo about you being here."

Angel looked uncomfortable. "Xander didn't talk to you?"

"Xander talks to me all the time," Buffy said. "Xander talks about English money being weird. Xander talks about wanting eggs for breakfast. Xander does not talk about you showing up here completely unannounced."

"Oh," Angel said. He paused, then added. "Buffy, we need to talk."

"I'm getting that," Buffy said.

Angel seemed to think about what he was going to say. "A lot's happened since the last time I saw you."

"Yeah," Buffy said, starting to feel exasperated. "We have a new president and boot cut capris came into style. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm seeing someone."

A few moments later, Buffy was able to see the world again. "Oh."

"Yeah," Angel said. The look in his eyes was enough to tell her this was definitely serious. A long, painful silence stretched out between them before either one was ready to speak.

"Ang - "

"Buff - "

They looked at each other for a moment, then Angel broke the stalemate. "I had to tell you."

"Why?" Buffy asked. She thought about feeling hysterical but found that, strangely, she didn't. "Why did you have to tell me exactly? Was there some full romantic disclosure law passed while I was away? Because I've got to tell you... Wait - you know what? No, I don't."

"I had to be honest with you," Angel said.

Buffy held her hands up questioningly. "Why start now?"

"I was always honest with you," Angel said. "A-at least whenever I could be."

"Really," Buffy said flatly. "Because I seem to remember someone said to me 'You've moved on. I can't. You've found someone new. I'm not allowed to.' I guess you got the permission slip, huh?"

Angel winced, the pain obvious on his face. "I didn't expect it to happen."

"Neither did I."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Angel said.

"I know. It doesn't help," Buffy paused, then asked. "Did you come to England to tell me this?"

Angel blinked, not understanding her for a moment. "No! Wes and I just...."

"So why are you here?"

Angel focused on her again. "To tell you."

"No," Buffy said slowly, "Why are you in England?"

Angel made a vague motion with his hand. "There was a ...thing... we had to find. We're done now."

It was Buffy's turn to look puzzled. "'Kay." She paused again, then took the plunge. "Who is she?"

"He."

"Technically," Giles said, in answer to Wesley's question. "The Council took me back at Slayer-point."

"Oh," Wesley said. He blinked owlishly behind his glasses. "I wasn't aware you were working with the Watchers again, Rupert."

Giles shrugged. "It's more like they're working with me. Or rather, we're all working with Buffy. She's finally figured out that without her, they're nothing. Of course, I'm not sure all of the Council has figured that out yet. But they're learning."

Wesley stepped back and looked at Giles strangely. "You ... didn't know that I was in England?"

"No... did you write?" Giles asked. "I'm sorry, Wesley, packing up seven people who've never traveled and myself and closing the shop took a lot of effort; I'm afraid I got a bit behind on my correspondence. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes. Er," Wesley glanced between him and the house again. "I wanted to ask you - never mind."

Giles looked at Wesley carefully. A feeling of doubt was beginning to creep into the back of his mind. "You mentioned Stuart. Did you want to get in touch with him? I haven't had time to get to London this trip, but I'm sure I have his address somewhere."

"No," Wesley said firmly, then added "No. I don't want - I'm sorry, this is just a surprise for me."

Instinct overcoming better judgment, Giles sat down on the bench and patted the space beside him in invitation. "Wesley, is something wrong? You seem a little abstract."

Instead of sitting, Wesley took a half step back. "Yes. No. I..." The faintest grin touched Wesley's face, as though he'd suddenly realized things were far easier - or worse - than he'd expected them to be. "I actually wanted to talk to you about Angel."

Giles leaned forward very slightly. "Do tell."

Wesley's response, when it came, was stated simply. "Angel and I are sleeping together."

Buffy did a double take. "He?" She paused, took the word in, and continued. "Okay, who is he then?"

Angel met her eyes. "It's Wesley."

The laughter was immediate and completely out of her control. "Wesley..." Buffy laughed, holding her stomach. "Wesley? ...Wes ..." She gasped for breath. "You replaced me.... with - with Wesley?"

As she laughed, Angel became more and more sober. "Yeah." The tone of his voice was almost a challenge.

Buffy began to wind down, still gasping for air. "Sorry.... Sorry...." She made motions of apology, not actually meaning any of them. "I really wasn't expecting that."

Angel folded his arms, staring at her. "Well there it is."

Finally the light dawned. "Wait, don't tell me," Buffy said, " I know this one. Suddenly we're in some alternate you-don't-give-a-damn universe. You're saying things specifically designed to hurt me in that infuriating I'm-so reasonable-tone. Not to mention the sudden ego growth... I've seen this movie, Angelus. It had some good dialogue but the ending sucked."

Angel looked at her in complete shock. "What?!?"

"Ending," Buffy repeated. "Sucked. I couldn't buy into the heroine's motivation, and it was way too long."

"Buffy - no -" Angel tried to say, but she ignored him.

"Fortunately," Buffy continued, "we can fix that." She almost giggled as a sudden thought occurred to her - she knew someone who might like to witness what was about to happen. "Spike!"

Spike bolted off of the bed at the sound of Buffy's voice.

"Stay here, niblet," he told Dawn in his firmest voice. He raced upstairs, grabbed a stake that a Watcher had left on a nearby table as a none-too-subtle reminder of how little he was welcome there, and ran into the back yard to be at Buffy's side.

As the kitchen door slammed behind him, Spike took in the situation - Buffy and Angel staring daggers at each other, Giles on the sidelines clearly having just run into the yard himself, and some skinny prat Spike'd never seen before wearing, of all things, Angel's coat.

"You brought him here?" Buffy said, gesturing angrily at the man Spike figured had to be Wesley. "Ooh, you're good."

For some reason, this was enough for Spike to realize things weren't quite as life and death as he'd thought they were.

At least - not life or death for Buffy. Angel, though, was another matter entirely.

"Buffy I am not evil!" Angel shouted back at her, not even bothering to look over in Spike's direction as Giles and Angel's boy toy had.

Buffy had an almost manic grin on her face. "You're a human being?"

Angel held his hand out in appeal. "Listen to me -"

"Buffy -" Giles spoke up, stepping forward into the foray and speaking in his usual soothing voice.

It was enough, unfortunately, to deflate Buffy's immediate Angel blood lust. Instead of staking him, Buffy gave a pointed look at her watch. "Talk fast."

"I am telling you the truth," Angel said. "This isn't a trap. Or a trick. Or an anything. It's just me."

"I don't know you," Buffy replied.

Angel nodded. "I know. I didn't expect this either."

"Know?" Buffy said, mockingly throwing Angel's word back at him. "Don't. Don't you dare try that with me now."

For once in his life, Angel got the hint of something on the first go. "I'm sorry," he said. He shot a quick look over to Wesley, but kept speaking to Buffy. His tone was of total defeat. "I ... I'm sorry."

The silence that followed was painful for everyone in the garden except Spike - who didn't give a shit about anything but Buffy's pain in the first place. Wesley and Giles pulled back, obviously realizing they'd intruded on a painful moment - their own bloody fault, Spike figured, for having come running when it'd been his name Buffy called.

Buffy, for her part, pulled back as well. Spike could tell what Angel's little bombshell must have been. The anger that'd been crackling off of the Slayer was starting to fade, probably making plenty of room for the next step, which was realizing that no, Angel wasn't scampering about without a soul again and was, instead, scampering about with some Watcher reject.

Angel, of course, hung by Buffy and brooded. Because that was always helpful.

Seeing that Buffy and Angel were locked into a bit of introspective quiet time, Spike decided to lend a hand by at least keeping the subject of Angel's nighttime activities occupied. He left the stake on the garden wall in easy reach of Buffy if she wanted it, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and sauntered over to the man who could've been Giles's illegitimate - well not child but maybe a bastard cousin on the mother's side. "So," Spike said, casually, "You must be Wesley."

Wesley glanced at Spike, clearly distracted by everything else that was going on. "Spike." Lacking anything else to do, Spike gave Wesley a nice, slow look from top to bottom and back again, wondering what the bleeding Hell Angel saw in the boy.

As though picking up on the topic of Spike's thoughts, Wesley looked away, blushing. Which Spike figured was damn near an invitation to try pushing a button or two.

Giles beat him to the punch, however. "So this is what you were trying to tell me, Wesley."

The baby Watcher looked guilty. "Yes. Of course," Wesley added, a little ruefully, "This is not the manner in which I hoped the truth would come out."

Spike chortled. "So to speak."

Wesley winced. "Yes," he turned to Giles, adding softly. "That too."

Spike shook his head. Sometimes it was too bloody easy. "So," he asked, puffing out a smoke ring. "how long have you been enjoying a high protein breakfast?"

Wesley coughed, looking pale.

That got Angel's attention.

"Spike!" Angel snapped, finally looking away from Buffy so he could give the evil eye to him.

Spike blinked innocently, happy to get Angel's attention off of Buffy as well if he could. "What? You're the only one allowed to get a rise out of him?"

Angel gave a half growl and started in Spike's direction.

Spike and Angel both blinked in surprise as Buffy jumped off the wall and planted herself in between them.

"Buffy stay out of this," Angel said.

"You started it." Buffy replied.

"Excuse me?" Angel said incredulously, "I'm sitting here trying to talk to you, and he -"

"No. You're sitting here trying to make yourself feel better, no matter what I feel," Buffy said. "Again. I never know with you if its going to be kisses or death threats. And now you go from 'I must be alone forever' to 'here's my new main squeeze' in 60 seconds?"

Angel's eyes flickered in Wesley and Spike's direction. "It wasn't 60 seconds. I wouldn't do something like this if it wasn't serious."

Buffy gave Angel a hard stare as she realized the implications of what had just been said. "Then how long was it?"

"A few weeks," Angel replied.

Spike threw Wesley an appreciative glance.

"So when were you going to tell me?" Buffy asked.

The look on Angel's face showed that he was busted. "Um."

Buffy shook her head at Angel. "You're not evil."

Angel sighed with relief.

"You're not Angelus," Buffy continued. "Only Angel could be that stupid."

"I was going to tell you..." Angel tried to say but Buffy cut him off.

"And you thought bringing him along was a good idea?" Buffy asked, pointing at Wesley. "Newsflash Angel, didn't need the visual aid."

"That's not the way I planned it," Angel said.

"Oh?" Buffy asked. "He was lurking in my yard - wearing your clothes - by sheer coincidence?"

Spike was surprised to hear Wesley speak up. " I didn't mean to get in the way," he said.

Spike exhaled a breath of smoke, purring. "Don't let us keep you, mate."

Angel's eyes zeroed in on him again - but not before Spike saw the quick look of gratitude in Buffy's eyes. "Keep off him Spike!"

"Would you please stop picking on the one person here who's defending me?" Buffy demanded.

"Why are you sticking up for the one person here who doesn't deserve it?" Angel shot back. "Spike's not defending you. Spike's attacking the person I'm with."

"Oh yes I am, mate," Spike replied, dead serious.

Angel glared at him. "Wesley's relationship with me does not give you the right to touch him."

Spike rolled his eyes and affected a camp tone. "My, my. Don't tell me you're getting all wound up 'cause I'm the only man here who can finish what you start!"

"Oh I can finish!" Angel replied. Immediately Wesley twitched and Giles began compulsively cleaning his glasses.

Buffy held up a hand to bring Angel's attention back to her. "Run that by me again?"

Angel sighed impatiently. "Buffy we've been over this."

"No we haven't," Buffy said. "I'd remember."

"You thought I was Angelus!" Angel said, as though it explained everything.

"So? You were acting like a complete -" Buffy struggled to find the right word.

"Bastard?" Spike suggested.

"Yes," Buffy agreed, giving Spike yet another look of gratitude. "Of course I thought you were Angelus. I didn't know how you got there and I didn't care. For all I knew, perfect happiness meant you'd discovered Nutella!"

Angel looked confused but quickly got over it. "Buffy, I'm seeing Wesley."

"Well excuse me for assuming that meant seeing Wesley," Buffy replied. "not necessarily seeing him naked."

Wesley choked.

Angel rolled his eyes. "Okay, Buffy, I am sleeping with Wesley."

"Don't talk to me like I'm three," Buffy said. "I'm with the program now. If I was a little slow on the uptake its not because I haven't noticed that people have sex. It's because you don't have sex. At least, not the last time I'd heard. You told me you wouldn't. You told me you couldn't. So why expect me to assume that you were? You managed to see me for nearly a year before it became an issue."

"I know," Angel admitted. "I didn't think I could. I was being honest with you when I told you that."

"Okay," Buffy said quietly. "And now you can..."

"Yeah," Angel said, in a tone of voice which suggested that he understood even though Spike knew for a fact that he didn't. Knowing the fireworks that were about to come, Spike made his way over to the garden wall, sitting down on it so he could watch without anyone telling him to get out of the way.

"Why didn't you come?" Buffy asked, and suddenly Spike felt a cold finger of dread in his chest. "No offense to Wesley, but... when you found out, why didn't you come to me?"

The look on Angel's face showed he would've been insanely happy to give Buffy whatever answer or word of comfort she needed, if only he understood what she was asking about. "What?"

Spike grimaced, latching his hands onto the stone wall and squeezing them tight. It was that or swear out loud for not guessing what Angel's news would do to Buffy once she got past the anger.

"When you found out we could be together," Buffy said softly, her green eyes looking up into Angel's.

Angel's face registered the enormity of what Buffy had just said - almost as though the idea had never even occurred to him before. "Buffy..." Angel whispered. He looked first at her, then at nothing in particular as the wheels in his mind began to work.

Quietly, almost inaudibly, Buffy asked. "Didn't you want me anymore?"

"Of course I do!" Angel said at once. He moved forward, cupping Buffy's face in his hands. "Buffy - my God!"

"Angel," Buffy said, "Why - why couldn't we..." She trailed off, closing her eyes and leaning into Angel's touch.

Whatever answer Angel had to Buffy's question slowly came to him. Keeping silent for reasons known only to himself, Angel began to pull back, sliding his hands down Buffy's cheeks until they were no longer touching - until Angel wasn't even looking at Buffy anymore.

Standing all by herself, eyes still closed, Buffy asked again. "Why?"

Angel looked down, moving back yet another step and focusing only on the grass at his feet.

From his perch on the wall, Spike dug his hands into the stone more intensely, willing himself to focus on the rock and not tear out Angel's eyes just because Buffy met them so meltingly, not snap his hands off at the wrists for daring to touch her, and not rip his bloody face off for turning away from her again. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Giles slip past him and into the kitchen, leaving the door ajar so that he could keep an ear on things.

Buffy opened her eyes, looking at everyone around her in her demand for an answer. "Why?"

Angel remained silent. His posture was the only thing which indicated any acknowledgement of how bad the situation was. Spike didn't dare trust himself to speak yet. In the end it was Wesley, of all people, who replied.

"Because I'm not you," Wesley said, stepping out from where he'd faded into the background.

Buffy blinked a few times, her eyes shining with the threat of tears. "What?" she asked, looking at Wesley as though she'd forgotten he was there.

"I'm not you, Buffy," Wesley said again, his voice stronger than Spike would've given the Watcher credit for at a time like that.

"Why?" Buffy asked, turning to face Wesley now. "What do you have that I don't have? What do you give him that I can't? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Wesley replied. "Buffy, there is nothing wrong with you. You are everything that Angel desires."

Buffy's face was now wet with tears. "And that's ... bad?" she asked. The sleeves of her sweater had long since slipped down to cover her hands, and Spike couldn't help but see how small and vulnerable the Slayer looked.

Wesley searched for the words. "It isn't a matter of good and bad, Buffy. This is not a judgment that is being made against you." Buffy listened, motioning with her hand for Wesley to continue. It took Wesley a moment before he could respond. "I - I don't give Angel perfect happiness."

It was an admission that everyone - including Spike - could feel a little empathy for. Almost in unison, Buffy and Wesley turned to see if Angel had any reaction to this.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, turning back to Wesley when Angel didn't respond - or chose to ignore them.

"Don't be," Wesley said. He looked at Angel again, almost as though he were trying to make Angel hear him. "The fact that I - that Angel and I -" Wesley shook his head, abandoning that attempt and trying another. A sad smile touched his face as he continued. "The curse doesn't break for 'good enough'."

Now Angel entered into the conversation again. "That's not true!" Angel said, his voice rough as he turned and pointed forbiddingly.

Wesley met Angel's eyes. "Angel, please."

Angel moved forward, speaking very deliberately as he did. "That is not true. You are more than just 'good enough'."

"Angel," Wesley said, gesturing helplessly. "Perfect happiness".

"Yes," Angel replied. "'Perfect happiness'. There's a lot going on in my life right now, Wes. How could you think that you are the problem here? Out of everything?"

"So now we're back to why," Buffy said, deliberately breaking the moment between them. "Wes here had a theory. You shot it down. Fair enough. What's theory B? Your soul is safe as long as the rest of your life sucks?"

"It does say perfect," Angel said.

"So then why won't you be with me?" Buffy asked. "If your life sucks now, it would still suck then."

"Buffy," Angel said, looking back at her again, even though now he was standing a hairsbreadth closer to Wesley than he was to her. "Our relationship had a lot more problems than this."

"All the more reason," Buffy shrugged. "Even if life in general takes a sudden turn for the happy, I can personally guarantee enough misery to keep the world safe for democracy."

"It's not about that," Angel said. "It's about you having a normal life. The kind of life you can't have with me."

"Angel," Buffy said, her voice firm. "I don't want a normal life. Whether I can be with you or not."

"The point is you're never going to be happy with me," Angel said. He began to count on his fingers as he listed his objections. "You deserve perfect happiness. It's too dangerous for you to be teamed up with a vampire - " Spike forced down a cough at this, but luckily Angel didn't notice and kept talking. "Buffy, we know you and I can't be together."

"I deserve perfect happiness," Buffy replied, "You deserve perfect happiness. I also deserve a Ferrari and a closet full of slinky black Versace dresses. Not happenin'. And you know what? Life goes on. And a pretty okay life at that. As for teaming up with a vampire - " Spike sucked in a breath, then let it out almost joyfully as she kept speaking. " - seems like it might be an advantage. Super strength, rapid healing powers, insight into the enemy mindset. And a partner who can supply the occasional quip." Buffy paused, then threw her hands up into the air in frustration. "This curse makes no sense!"

"Makes perfect sense to me," Angel said. "The curse broke when I was with you."

"We don't know that it would break again," Buffy said. "I was right there with that theory until you came up to me and said 'Buffy, I'm sleeping with Wesley'. Then Wes had his theory of Special Buffy Curse Breaking Powers and I was right there with that until you said no. Then you had your theory 'life sucking equals Angel soul having'. And then Giles made tea."

Everyone paused to realize that Giles had returned to the garden bearing a tea tray in his hands.

"I thought everyone could use some refreshment," Giles explained, holding the tray out to Buffy, who took a cup. "Angel?"

"No, thanks," Angel declined.

Giles moved over to offer some to Spike. Not wanting to take his hands off the wall, Spike nodded, indicating that Giles could leave a cup sitting beside him. Giles did so, then crossed to the other side of the garden. "Wesley?"

"Oh thank God," Wesley replied, taking a cup and downing it like a shot before quickly pouring himself another.

Once that was out of the way, Giles took a cup for himself, put the tray down on the wall behind him, and waited while the mundane activity of juggling spoons and saucers helped to diffuse the situation.

"Angel," Buffy said after taking a sip. "God knows I'd love to be right there with your theory since as far as I can see that makes Angel and Buffy the sequel a definite possibility. But I can't, because life always sucks. Life was entering major suckage the last time around. The Judge was about to annihilate the entire town, and after that, the world. And if that's not enough, you and I had just faced the fact that we might not have a future together - for the first time. And on top of that we had narrowly escaped the vampire death squad hell-bent on destroying all things Slayer." Buffy turned to Spike, adding in a friendly and cordial tone. "Hey Spike, those were your boys, weren't they?"

"Yeah," Spike admitted, keeping his voice as light and easygoing as hers. "They weren't the brightest lot. But what can you do?" Spike shrugged, going for a nonchalant gesture but taking a wrong turn at panic when the death grip he'd placed on the wall caused one of the stones underneath his hand to shift and then crumble, pulling down a good portion of the wall with it. On reflex alone both of Spike's hands shot out and grabbed the cup and saucer before they could tumble or even spill a drop. Spike felt everyone's eyes on him as he took a moment to understand what just happened, then tried to play it off as though it'd been planned. "Lucky, that."

"Yes," Giles said, leaning in and adjusting his glasses as he spoke up. "Er - It - it would seem that Angel and Wesley have stumbled across an apparent contradiction to what we believed about the nature of the curse. Clearly Angel is capable of - er - sustaining intimate relations." Giles glanced at Wesley. "Ergo, we can no longer be said to have the slightest conception of what might trigger a resurgence of the Angelus problem."

"And that being the case," Buffy said, "there's no reason to assume what was a trigger once would be a trigger again under different circumstances."

"And equally, there's no reason to assume a factor that did not act as a trigger once will not become a trigger in future," Giles replied, looking again at Wesley as he did. "Regardless of who is involved."

"It's not about sex," Angel said. "I thought we all agreed I can have sex."

"No," Giles replied. "We all agreed you did have sex."

"Sex is not the problem," Angel said. He spoke to the group as a whole, trying to get them to agree with him. "I can have sex."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Sure you can."

Angel snapped a glare in Spike's direction as Wesley blushed a color damn near beet red.

"I feel we are straying from our point," Giles said. He put down his teacup, slipped one hand into his coat pocket, and began to speak as though in front of a class. "The issue at hand is that, given what we know now and in the absence of any conclusive data, relying on any hypothesis to guide our actions is an unconscionable risk."

Wesley's jaw tightened, but Spike could tell not everyone had followed along. "Could you back that up and try it again?" Spike asked, gesturing at Angel and Buffy behind their backs.

Giles took his glasses off in exasperation. "Oh for Heaven's sake, Wesley got it!" Giles settled his glasses back on his nose, then addressed Angel. "We don't know what the trigger is. We don't know how to find out what the trigger is. It's all very well to sit here guessing, but it could be anything ." Giles gestured to everything around them to emphasize the point.

Wesley's expression bordered on indignant. "You cannot be suggesting that Angel now cut himself off from the entire world?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Giles asked.

Wesley stood up to face Giles. "Oh yes. Brilliant. Let's take him away from the work that he's doing, from the monsters he's fighting, from the good he has dedicated his entire life to, and lock him in a box away from the few things in this world that have kept him sane and happy in the name of preventing an evil that may or may not occur."

"Wesley," Giles asked, taking his glasses off again and looking at the younger man with Ripper eyes, "have you ever met Angelus?"

"Yes," Wesley said - and if Spike hadn't known better he'd have sworn Giles Jr. was faking vamp-face. "As a matter of fact, I have."

This earned a quick reaction of shock from Buffy, but Giles kept speaking. "Oh? Can I see the scars?"

"That's not the point!" Wesley said.

"Do want to see mine?" Giles replied. "Because I've got this lovely pattern on my arm from where Angelus spent 15 minutes playing mumblety peg. And that was just the appetizer. Not to mention the memorable night when he murdered my girlfriend and left her in my bed with a garnish of roses and a quite decent champagne. And that was just something he did on a lark."

"I'm aware of what he's done in the past," Wesley said.

"Oh," Giles said. "So then you know that Angel spent his first hundred and forty five years committing acts of rape, murder, and mayhem so freakish and inventive that Mephistopheles himself could take his correspondence course."

"He doesn't do that anymore," Wesley protested.

"No," Giles said. "He spent the next hundred years subsisting on gutter rats and doing God knows what until he arrived in Sunnydale. At which point he spent the following three years complicating Buffy's life and mine - "

"And mine," Spike added.

Giles ignored him. "So actually, no. As it happens I feel surprisingly little compunction about depriving Angel of a mission to which he has devoted what, to a vampire, amounts to a weekend holiday. Someone else can do that job, Wesley."

Wesley broke eye contact for a moment - long enough for Giles to put his glasses back on - but something made Wesley press on. "That job still needs Angel. No matter what else happens that is where he belongs."

"Giles," Buffy said. "It's not like Angel hasn't been punished enough. A hundred years of guilt, a brief moment of happy, a hundred years in hell. Not to mention this evening. I'm sure you're all with me on unusual; do we really have doubts about cruel?" She held up her hand to forestall Giles's objections. "Don't get me wrong. I get safe. I don't ever want to know that he's killed another innocent person and its my fault again. But couldn't we explore the full range of safety precautions? Somewhere between free range Angel and putting him in a box?"

"The bathtub's free," Spike offered.

"I am not denying my responsibilities," Angel said. "I understand the full implications of what's going on. Does anybody here doubt I'd be singing Good Day Sunshine if I had to?"

Spike raised his hand. When Angel didn't notice, he spoke up. "I do, sunshine. Best of intentions and all, but when you turn, you just don't care."

"Fine," Angel said. "I'd guess I'd better go early then."

The announcement was enough to shock Wesley and Buffy into silence - or at least enough silence for Spike to be able to add his own thoughts on the subject. "Need any help getting that last nail in?" Spike asked. When Angel obviously couldn't tell what Spike was talking about, Spike laughed. "What? Using too many syllables for you? Fine - how 'bout this?"

Spike pushed himself away from the wall, lit a cigarette, and began to pace. "Once upon a time there was an annoying nancy boy vampire named Angel. All day long he liked to sit at home, style his hair, and think about what a bad, bad boy he was. After a while Angel had been brooding so long that all his neighbors, in their little thatched cottages, started to brood too. And the wives said 'Oh that poor Angel! It's so hard for him being a vampire!'" Spike let out a breath of smoke, shaking his head.

"Which was strange," he continued. "because they didn't seem to have any problem being people, the cows didn't seem to have trouble being cows, and it was no bother at all for the cops to be useless. So then the husbands said, 'Hard? It didn't seem too hard for him when he was goin' around killin' all those people with a butcher knife and a feather duster.'" Spike was surprised to see Buffy giggle at that, but didn't abandon the floor just yet. "Which was true of course. But the thing of it was, no matter how much Angel brooded, moped, pouted, or stared at that old knife and that ratty feather duster, his victims never seemed to get any less dead. Then the children, who were naturally smarter than their parents, asked the only question that really mattered: 'Is he going to do it again?'"

Angel was looking at him in hard silence, but Spike kept going. "To which Angel said that he wouldn't. 'Cause you see, all that brooding had worked. He'd learned his lesson. Good vampires stayed home and pouted. Only bad vampires have any fun."

Spike could tell his words had just hit home. Not afraid to press his luck, he stepped closer to Angel, never once breaking eye contact. "It was the best fun you ever had, wasn't it? It was damn near the only fun you ever had. Everybody here is getting' all in a twist about you getting' a leg over Wesley, when the real issue is that Angelus makes you weak in the knees."

"Go to Hell, Spike," Angel said, his voice rough.

Spike laughed, taking a puff off his cigarette. "What? And infringe on your copyright?"

That was it. Angel shoved Spike aside and vanished into the woods.

It was automatic. As soon as Angel broke away from the group, Wesley ran after him. He didn't know where Angel was going - couldn't even keep on top of him at his own, pained, mortal pace - but he knew he had to follow.

The darkness around him didn't help. The previously overcast sky had long since faded into night and there were no electric lights of any kind to ease the way. A faint moonlight trickled through the trees, and it was this alone that Wesley used to guide himself.

But even that was not enough, as Wesley discovered when his foot connected with an unseen rock and he felt his body pitch forward.

"Wes!"

Angel was in front of him at once. He caught Wesley effortlessly, an action made even more astonishing by the fact that Wesley hadn't seen him standing there moments before. Regardless, Angel had him, and the two of them stumbled together in a tangle of limbs until Angel's support and Wesley's center of balance found a stable medium.

"Sorry," Wesley moved to step away. His gut was aching - perhaps from the fall - and his mind felt like lead. He could think of nothing to say, so fell back on habit. "Sorry."

Angel's face flickered, showing emotions that Wesley couldn't recognize in the shadowy light. "Don't apologize."

The words didn't register with him. "My fault, really -"

The night blurred. Wesley found himself pinned against a tree truck, Angel's hands on his arms like vices. "Don't apologize."

Wesley felt his breath hitch. Was that gold in Angel's eyes, or just a trick of the moonlight? "Angel -"

The sentence stopped. Angel silenced it at once, forestalling all conversation in favor of a kiss - a searing, brutal, exhilaratingly savage kiss.

Wesley should have stopped him. The thought of doing so even crossed Wesley's mind. But Wesley's body had other ideas entirely. He managed to mumble a few words - something about safety, and worry about Angel - before realizing he didn't give a damn for any of it. Angel wanted him. Angel needed him. If that was the case, Wesley was more than happy to oblige.

"It's - it's - " Angel panted, as much as he could pant, as his hands fumbled their way underneath the leather coat, tugging at Wesley's sweater. "It's not -"

"It doesn't matter," Wesley replied. He didn't know what Angel was referring to, nor did he care.

"It does!" Angel insisted. Wesley could feel Angel's hands trembling. "Wes, I -"

Wesley took the initiative now, pulling Angel close and kissing him as forcefully as he ever had. Determined not to be weak about it, Wesley decided to state the only thing that mattered to him. "Angel - I love you."

The pause that resulted from that was thick and weighted. Angel's face was covered in shadows, but Wesley imagined he could see a pair of familiar brown eyes looking at him.

"I love you," Wesley repeated. "If you doubt that, I shall repeat it as many times as I must."

"I don't - " Angel started to speak, then held back, frowning. He cocked his head in a listening pose.

Wesley strained his own hearing, cursing yet another of his mortal deficiencies. "Something wrong?"

Angel held a hand up for quiet, then shook his head. "No. I don't think so. But let's get out of here." He turned to Wesley, looking, of all things, suddenly young. "Wes, can - can we go back to our room?"

"Of course," Wesley said. He felt a mountain of tension leave his body, with only a dull ache in his abdomen as a souvenir. "In fact, I'd like nothing better."

"Good," Angel said. Relief washed over his face. He took Wesley's hand, ready to lead him through the maze of tree roots. "Come on."

Buffy stared in the direction Angel and Wesley had gone, wrapping her arms around her own waist in a way that made her look about twelve years old. Spike took a few steps after the retreating forms. Fuck, it would be sweet to run after them and pound that poncy prick's head into ye olde Victorian-style lamp post until the historic cobblestones were slick with blood. Hell, it was sweet just to move after so long frozen in place by nothing but willpower . It would be easy to track them: Angel might have supernatural speed and grace, but Wesley wasn't even up to the usual human standards of stealth, even without the trail his borrowed finery left in the tall wet grass. But - Spike was one up, he'd had the fucking last word for once, and flicked Angel on the raw too. Chasing after them to pick a fight was bound to spoil that lovely exit line. Especially if he lost. And besides, Buffy might need him.

Buffy was standing still, hanging on like she was holding herself together. Not good. Giles was standing stock still too, watching her - well, that was his job, after all, but Spike just knew he was working himself up to do some well-intentioned but fatal thing, like say "it'll be alright" or put a hand on her shoulder. Or even both. About as subtle as a pipe organ to the pelvis, that one, and Buffy didn't need to bear with his excruciating efforts right now. Or ever, if she weren't fond of the twit. Spike picked up the abandoned tea tray and handed it to Giles, effectively cutting off the hug or whatever gesture he'd been jerkily commencing. Spike began gathering up the scattered crockery and spoons and dumped them onto the tray Giles still held outstretched. He was relieved to find Buffy coming towards him with her own cup and saucer.

Noticing stuff outside her head, check; movement, check; basic manners, check. Could be worse.

"Wash the dishes, then make more tea." Spike told Giles firmly.

"Right. Then what?" Giles asked.

Spike shrugged. "Drink it?"

Giles looked down at the heap of dirtied pottery between his hands, then at Buffy, then back. "I - er - yes - I... will be in the kitchen. If you - ahem - need. Anything." Buffy nodded, still looking away, and Giles finally went inside.

"Well, that was fun," said Buffy, turning to Spike, in an alarmingly conversational tone. "I'm sorry you didn't get to see the show after all."

"Was that why you called me, luv?" asked Spike, curiosity crowding out larger questions for the moment. "And here I was thinking you forgot your stake again!"

"Oh, I did," she agreed, "and thanks for the in-flight refuel. But I wasn't too worried about that - the great outdoors seems pretty well furnished in the pointy stick department. I just thought, if I was finally gonna dust Angelus, you wouldn't want to miss it."

"Not for the world," he agreed, and then winced a little. Luckily she didn't seem to catch the reference.

"Too bad it didn't work out," Buffy continued quietly.

"It still could, Slayer," he offered. He had no idea if she had meant staking Angel or dating him. He had no idea which he'd meant, himself, except that he hated the resignation in her tone even more than the pain. "I could go stake him right now," he offered, with a broad grin so she'd know he was joking. Sort of. "I could tie up the Watcher, and we could split infinitives and dangle participles till he begs for mercy."

Buffy's smile came peeking out of her tear-blotched face like the sun from behind clouds - which was a stupid cliché for a vampire to pick, but it did.

"I could strip that damned coat from his back," he continued before he could stop himself, "and you could have it for a souvenir." Spike froze. He'd gone too far again, damn it. He hadn't meant to remind her that the Watcher had been wearing Angel's coat. What next, his frat pin? But it was alright. By the look in her eyes, Buffy found the idea more attractive than she'd ever admit. In fact, for the first time since he'd been fool enough to tell her where he got his own duster, the look she gave it was more appraising than pained.

Then she sighed, and the clouds were definitely winning again. "He's moving on, like I - did. It's been years. I shouldn't be angry."

"Of course you bloody well should!" Spike exclaimed. "Anybody would be! For fuck's sake, haven't we had enough martyrs here tonight?"

Buffy's face was painted with surprise and indignation. At least she was seeing him now, not staring blankly anymore. "At least I'm trying to do the right thing!" she shot back.

Spike felt a moment of indignance - as though he hadn't been trying, all that time he'd sat quietly while she offered herself up to Angel for the taking. But he forced it down. Buffy didn't need another fight. She might want one, but she didn't need one. And Spike was ready to give Buffy anything she needed.

"You did the right thing." he said. "You don't have to try anymore. It's just me, luv, no use being all fair-minded and grown-up like with only an evil vampire for an audience." Buffy managed a small smile, and Spike felt like cheering. "Go on, cry, scream, break the Council's crappy china," he paused, "Hit me, I don't mind."

Buffy took a step towards him, then stopped and shook her head. "What?" asked Spike. "You know I can take it, you've used me as a punching bag often enough. I won't even hit back if you don't want. It'll be like old times." Spike hoped she wouldn't take him up on that last bit. He had tensions of his own to release, and he'd already used more self-control tonight than in the last fifty years.

"No." she said quietly. "If I hit you now, I'd be seeing you with Angel's face. And I don't ever want to do that."

Well, that was something, anyway.

Buffy gave a small shrug. "Think I'll go for a walk. Maybe take out my frustrations on a few menacing trees. I'm not ready to face anyone yet."

Spike nodded. "I'll be here." He barely stopped himself from adding, "if you need me." Whatever she needed, she'd made it quite clear it wasn't him. "I'll be here," he repeated lamely, and she nodded and walked off into the woods.

The sound of leaves and twigs crunching under her feet became fainter and then, almost inaudible even to his vampire senses, came the sound of soft sobbing and dull thuds, as flesh met wood over and over. Spike fought off the urge to follow, to catch her in his arms and keep her from hurting herself. Sometimes physical pain was better. It was something you could see, something you could handle. Something you could heal.

Spike's mind was racing, he was breathing hard and fast. How could she still want that wanker? How could she expect Spike to sit through that?

At least she was thinking of him a little....

Everything was true and nothing was right. Everything hurt. No matter what he thought, no matter what he felt, everything fucking hurt and it wouldn't stop. A heap of rock and crumbled mortar crunched under Spike's boots, where his death grip had done for a good chunk of garden wall. He looked at the parts that were still standing, then started to kick and punch the remains of the wall as if it was an enemy. After a while, he started to smile.

Spike's hands were bleeding when he came back to himself, and not one piece still rested on another; except in the haphazard pile where he'd begun chucking them merrily over his shoulder. His panting breath slowed and stopped. What an unholy mess. Absently he sucked on a reddened fingertip, looking around the garden with a certain sheepish satisfaction. Buffy wasn't back yet. Still beating up the local vegetation, no doubt, though he couldn't hear her anymore. Just as well. Spike surveyed his handiwork again. This much, at least, he could fix. He knelt down in the damp grass, and picked up the first stone.

The walk back to their room didn't seem to take the full twenty minutes. Wesley supposed that their alternate route might be the cause of it, but he also believed it was due to neither one of them paying attention to the actual journey. For his part, Wesley tried to watch were he was going, and not jostle his wound more than he had to.

And Angel, for his part, thought.

Wesley wanted to be worried about that, but didn't dare try to put a stop to it until they were safely in their own room with a closed door and a guarantee that there'd be no one to take part in the conversation but themselves.

In the meanwhile, Wesley rehearsed what things he might say to draw Angel out of his brooding state. But as it turned out, once they'd gotten back to their quarters, he didn't have to.

"I don't want to break up with you," Angel said. He took Wesley's keys to lock the door to their room, glancing at Wesley as though not certain of his reaction.

Wesley sat down on their bed, not even bothering to remove his borrowed coat. He thought about Angel's words, hoping that this was a conclusion to the day's events and not the start of something new. "Thank God?"

"I mean it," Angel said. He threw the keys onto an end table, then dragged their only chair over to the bed, sitting in it so that he and Wesley could be face to face. "I - I don't want to break up with you."

"Good," Wesley said. He leaned forward, wincing a little as the movement hit his stomach the wrong way. "Because I have no desire to break up with you."

Angel's eyes flicked downward. "Are - are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Wesley said, dismissing it. "It simply aches a little."

"Should I get your pills?"

"They're antibiotics," at Angel's blank look, Wesley explained. "They don't do anything for pain. I finished that prescription weeks ago."

"Oh," Angel nodded, looking at the floor now. "Sorry. I should've known that."

"Yes," Wesley said, "for in addition to your numerous other talents I fully expect you to be a doctor who can monitor and take care of my every medical need."

Angel looked humbled. "I want to take care of you, Wes."

Wesley brushed Angel's hand with his fingers. "I know. But don't chastise yourself for things that you cannot control. If you wish to care for me, do so with the abilities that you have."

Angel grimaced, looking away.

"What?"

Angel met his eyes again. "This is taking care of you?" Angel used his free hand to gesture to the world around them. "Putting you through this? Having you -"

"I chose to be here," Wesley said, interrupting Angel as best he could.

Angel kept going. "Having you worry about me? What if they're right, Wes? What if the trigger is something new?"

"And what if there is no trigger at all?" Wesley replied, saying it in spite of the fact that such an idea didn't truly help his own cause. "Angel, we don't know."

"Yeah, we don't know," Angel said. "Like Giles said, it could be anything. So if I love you, am I really taking care of you if I keep doing what I'm doing when absolutely anything could turn me back?"

"Bugger Giles!" Wesley said, surprised at his own vehemence. Even Angel blinked at the exclamation. "Bugger him and his theory. The trigger could be anything so you must be punished? Locked away as though you've done something wrong? No. Absolutely not."

Angel shook his head. "Wes - "

"No," Wesley said again. "Angel, the theory is flawed. First it assumes that the trigger has changed - which is something I in no way support - then it demands that we value theoretical danger over existing benefits. Why are we supposed to give up on you in favor of a monster who isn't even here?"

"But he is," Angel said, quietly. "Wes - it's still me. I - I know that the soul makes things better, but... I'm still him. You know that."

"I know that you fell down a dark path," Wesley said. He wrapped both of his hands around Angel's cold one, refusing to let Angel back away from him. "You have done things recently which were not noble, or kind, or for the cause. Which means that you, like every other creature with a soul, have the ability to make poor choices. But that is all that it is. You did the wrong thing. You did many wrong things. Nothing we do now can change that. The only thing which can be done is what you are already doing - admitting your errors, and trying once again to fight the good fight."

Angel's hand flexed inside of Wesley's touch. "There's more to it than that."

"I know."

Angel looked uncomfortable. "I don't think you do, Wes. I mean Giles knows -"

"What?" Wesley asked. "What does Rupert know that I don't?"

"Angelus," Angel said. Again his hand moved, but he did not break contact. "And me."

"Like Hell," Wesley said. This time it was no effort at all to be forceful, and to give to Angel as good as he got. Amazingly, Angel's own words came to Wesley's mouth to support him. "They don't know you, Angel."

Angel recognized the speech at once. "Wes, don't -"

Wesley grabbed onto Angel's wrist, holding him still. "You doubt the words? Were they mere statements to me? Something comforting, to quiet me for the night?"

"Of course not," Angel said at once. "But -"

"But nothing," Wesley replied. He found himself warming to the subject. "Yes, Rupert was there when you turned - turned for a good length of time, at any rate. And yes he, and Buffy, and for the love of God even Xander know more about what you did then than I do. But you cannot tell me that any of them - any one - knows you as well as I, Cordelia, or Gunn know you. And we three support you, Angel. In different manners perhaps, but we do support you."

"Cordy knows," Angel said. He slumped back into his chair. "And she doesn't like this."

"Cordelia is quite possibly the best judge of us all," Wesley said. "Including myself. She knows what you were like then and now - and still she stands by you. Enough to give you a second chance, at least. That is the key of it, Angel. Everyone in Sunnydale is judging the man that they knew. But they don't know who you are anymore. They don't know what the past year has done to you, what Darla's resurrection has put you through."

Angel raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. And I'm thinking if they did I'd be on my way to Sunnydale right now, courtesy of Spike's box."

"I don't argue that those events were not good," Wesley said. "But they are not the sum of you. Such an idea is the very fault in Rupert's beliefs and yours."

"I still say we should think about this," Angel said. His hand relaxed inside of Wesley's touch, but Wesley could still feel the tension inside. "If there's a chance I could turn -"

"There is always a chance you could turn," Wesley replied. "Angel - a year ago who knew that a drug existed which could bring Angelus out in you? Who knew that you could revert to your old behaviors while still in possession of your soul?"

"You're not really making a good argument here, Wes," Angel said. "Not if you want me coming back to Los Angeles."

"Oh?" Wesley asked. He drew himself up, looking down at Angel through his glasses. "So your point is that you think you would do better - that your soul would do better - if you were on your own? Yes. Well. I can certainly see that. After all, that worked smashingly the last time. When was that again? Oh yes, just over a month ago."

Angel started to speak, stopped, then nodded. "Point taken."

"I thought it might be."

Angel threaded their fingers together. He looked up at Wesley. "I - I don't want to put you in danger."

Wesley considered his response carefully. "Angel... Forgive me for saying this, but I was in danger the moment I met you." Angel's eyes darkened, but Wesley continued. "You're a vampire. A vampire with a soul, but still a vampire. I have never forgotten that. I love you beyond thought and reason. I will stand by you until the Apocalypse and after. I will defend you against any attackers that I can. But I have never once let it slip my mind that - that you could kill me."

Angel had grown quieter as Wesley spoke. In spite of the warmth of the room, his hand, if anything, felt colder. "Wes -"

"No," Wesley said, cutting off his reply. "Listen to me. You knew this from the start. You wanted this of me. You wanted me to understand your true nature so that between us we had no illusions. I have kept that part of the bargain. Which is why, in spite - or perhaps because - of my love for you, I would kill you if I had to. With, or without your soul."

Giles entered the kitchen, carrying the tray of tea items. He noted the empty room and allowed himself a moment of relief that Dawn was no longer there. The girl had been in the room when he'd come in earlier, looking downcast and with a surprising show of worry had asked Giles if Buffy and Angel were getting back together again. Giles, quite relieved to be conveying good news for the first time that evening, had told her no, he didn't think so. Dawn had seemed glad to hear it and had even helped him find extra cups for the tea tray, telling Giles "Leave it to you guys to think what the latest episode of the Buffy/Angel drama really needs is spectators and refreshments." as she held the door open for him once the tea was ready.

Giles was glad to see her gone now. Hopefully it meant she hadn't heard the rest of the conversation - the parts where it was established exactly why Buffy and Angel weren't getting back together again.

Not really following Spike's instructions as much as he was falling back on comforting habits, he made himself a cup of tea, brought it over to the kitchen table and sat down, letting it cool in front of him.

"Guys?" Willow's voice echoed from the front door. "Guys?"

"In here, Willow," Giles called back.

A moment later, Willow and Tara appeared, carrying armfuls of purchases which included, amongst other things, what seemed to be a collection of magnifying glasses. "Sorry we're late," Willow said.

"There was a tube strike," Tara said, taking off her coat.

Willow looked around. "Where is everyone?"

Giles remained silent, realizing that he had no idea where to even begin answering such a question.

"Giles, what's wrong?" Willow asked. "Bad day at the Watchery?" She turned to Tara. "See? I knew we shouldn't have left him alone with those jerks."

Giles finally managed to rouse himself. "No, actually, it was quite productive. It was afterwards..."

"What was afterwards?" Willow asked. "Is everyone all right?"

Giles decided to just have at it. "Angel came."

Willow's eyes widened. "Angel came here? How? Why? Is he e-evil again?"

"Not at the moment, no," Giles said dryly.

"Then why the long face?" Willow asked, then noted the cup in front of him. "Not to mention the intensive tea meditation."

Giles sighed. "He had... some upsetting news."

"Is Cordelia ok?" Tara asked, then another name occurred to her. "And - and Wesley?"

"Yes," Giles replied.

Willow sat down across from Giles. Tara took the chair next to her. "Giles," Willow said, "I hate when you break it to me gently. It's like public speaking on a roller coaster. And - and it keeps going faster, and the track is broken, and there's this frog - " Willow looked over to see that Tara was nodding along as though the images Willow spoke of made sense while Giles, on the other hand, was not. "Um. Anyway. I'm sitting down. There's a nice cup of tea all ready." She made her face one of resolve, speaking each world clearly. "Tell me what happened."

"Angel is - is," Giles paused, then again decided to state the facts as they were. "Angel and Wesley are seeing one another."

Tara frowned. "Seeing? As - as in dating?"

Giles raised his eyebrows. "I suppose so."

Willow looked thoughtful. "Maybe it is something in the water."

"Vampires don't drink water, do they?" Tara asked.

"Good point," Willow said, then paused. "Wait a minute - Wesley? The worst Watcher ever?"

"Yes," Giles replied.

"Babbling British guy?"

"Yes."

"The one Cordy said was like kissing an epileptic toad?"

"Far too much information, Willow," Giles said, "But once again, yes."

"Wow," Willow sat back. "Either he or Angel must have changed a lot."

"Not really," Xander said, coming into the room with an empty water pitcher. He went over to the sink to fill it. "They both seemed pretty much their sulky, spastic selves when I ..." Xander trailed off, noticing that Giles was staring at him. "Occasionally imagine them for no apparent reason. On second thought - who are we talking about? On third thought, bye."

Xander was almost at the door when Giles stopped him. "What do you know about this?"

"Nothing!" Xander said. "Me? You know me. I never know anything. 'Don't Know Anything' is practically my middle name. Except Mom liked Lavelle better - which just goes to show she doesn't know anything either."

"Oh?" Giles asked. "And what, precisely, don't you know anything about?"

"That'd be Angel and Wesley for $200, Alex," Xander said. "Don't know anything about them, don't know anything about them being here, and don't know anything about the two of them sucking face in the bathroom of the London Dungeon." Xander paused, realizing that everyone was staring at him. "But perhaps I've said too much."

Giles was aghast. "The London... Xander that was three days ago!"

"I know. I haven't slept well since," Xander looked vaguely nauseated. "And I've lost five pounds."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Willow asked.

"Because I like all of my body parts in their current, non-Picassoesque configuration," Xander said. "But thanks for asking."

"You can't joke your way out of this, Xander," Giles said, speaking in clipped tones. "You knew. That made it your responsibility to convey that information to Buffy."

"No," Xander said. "It was Angel's responsibility. He should have gotten on the road to Sunnydale - or at least on a damn phone - to share the news the moment he and Wesley decided to do the horizontal mambo. And, given the look on your face, I'm guessing he finally did."

"Yes, he should have," Giles said. "But that doesn't absolve you."

"No, only Buffy can do that," Xander replied, moving closer to the kitchen table. "Look - I decided to give Angel a chance to come clean on his own. And not just to save my baby-soft skin, fond as I am of it. She needed to hear this from the horse's mouth... or other opening. I would have told her back in Sunnydale, but I'm glad I didn't have to."

"Wait a minute," Willow said, looking at Xander, "Angel can have sex now?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Apparently."

Tara turned to Willow, puzzled. "But didn't the curse...?"

"I thought so," Willow said. "I mean, it did. But - but now, if he can.... That's good, right? No, wait - that's bad."

Tara looked at Giles. "If - if sex doesn't trigger the curse, then what does?"

"We don't know," Willow replied. "Maybe I didn't do it right. I mean... I got the disk from Ms. Calendar and she was really smart. But maybe it was just her rough draft. And - and I checked it! I double checked it!" Willow grabbed Tara's arm. "But what if I didn't pronounce the words right? I'm not a gypsy. What if the ingredients weren't fresh? Or - or what if they were too fresh? Maybe I should have used dry. Maybe the curse doesn't have an escape clause anymore! Maybe he's Angel forever! Or - or maybe it's going to expire next week. Maybe it's a millennium bug! I mean - I - I know that was last year but - but demons have other calendars and -"

"Breathe, Red," Spike said as he walked in through the back door. He made his way over to the sink and began washing his hands.

Willow blinked. "Spike!" She turned to Tara again. "We tried the curse on Spike, and it didn't work right! And - and we thought it was 'cause he had a soul already, but maybe it was just broken?"

Spike perked up, listening. "You mean I don't have a soul?"

"Well m-maybe," Willow said. "I wasn't implying - it's just we don't know."

Spike nodded in satisfaction. "Thank bloody Hell for that." He turned off the water and began to try his hands on a dishtowel. "First bit o' good news I've had all day."

Giles rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Spike, please..."

Spike looked innocent, holding up the spotless but wet towel. "What? It's clean. Washed my hands and everything." He tossed the towel back onto the counter, pulled a chair out from the table, flipped it around, straddled it and pulled out a cigarette. In an easy motion Spike lit the cigarette, put his lighter away, took a breath of smoke, then smiled at everyone. "So... what are we talking about?"

Xander sat down as well. "Angel and Wesley."

Spike sighed. "Oh for fuck's sake, not again."

Xander nodded. "Yep. I'm afraid so."

"So what are we up to?" Spike asked, counting off on his fingers. "Have we done 'they're having sex'? 'Angel's not evil'? 'We don't know how the bloody curse works'? Or even 'why the bleeding Hell did he pick Wesley'?"

"We skipped that part," Xander said. "But I'm right there with you."

"It's Los Angeles!" Spike said. "The bloody place is full of poofs that have a bit of personality and decent taste in clothes."

"Tom Cruise, we're looking at you," Xander muttered.

Tara glanced at Xander, but spoke to Willow. "Um. If - if the curse had a time limit, you would notice. That's - that's something you would have to put in. To the spell. It - it wouldn't be spontaneous. Even if the ingredients weren't fresh."

"You're quite right, Tara," Giles said. "Unfortunately, to the best of my recollection, the curse did not contain any explicit reference to the conditions under which it would be terminated."

Willow looked worried. "Maybe Ms. Calendar didn't have time to reconstruct that part?"

"Perhaps," Giles admitted. "But, if so, then we are back to square one."

"Did - didn't Angel go to Hell?" Tara asked. "M-maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe it changed him. Or - or the curse."

"And going over this does what besides practicing your lot's considerable powers of redundancy?" Spike asked, speaking around his cigarette. "It's not like you're prepared to send him back."

"Oh, I don't know," Xander said. "Stick a toothpick in him like a pig in a blanket, might save a lot of trouble."

Giles shook his head. "Even if I were to countenance such a proposal, it hardly matters. Buffy would certainly neither carry it out nor allow us to do so without clear evidence that he had indeed turned."

"Of course not!" Willow said. "But then... what do we do now?"

"We go home."

Everyone looked up to see Buffy standing in the doorway. She looked horrible - as though she'd been emotionally drained in every possible way and then some.

"But - " Xander protested.

"We go home," Buffy repeated.

"I know how eager you must be to put this behind you," Giles said, keeping his voice supportive. "But Buffy, its too dangerous to leave him unsupervised until we know more."

"He's not unsupervised," Buffy said. "He's got his very own personal Watcher. It's Wesley's problem now." Giles saw Willow wince in sympathy. "Besides, Giles, we've been through this about Spike and the chip. Books are nifty, but even the gigantic stash down the road can only tell you what's already happened. We're in uncharted territory here, and the only way its ever going to get charted is if we get all Lois and Clark -"

"Lewis and Clark -" Giles corrected automatically.

"Whatever," Buffy said. "If we get out in the field. Return them to their natural habitat and observe them in the wild. And then you can write it down. Think of it as the other kind of research."

Xander snorted. "Next, on the Discovery Channel..."

Giles ignored him. "But it's not safe!"

"Then say you want us to lock him up forever," Buffy said. "Because that's what you mean."

"That's not what I intend at all!" Giles said.

"Just till he dies of old age, mate?" Spike asked. "How long were you planning to keep me in that bathtub?"

"Until the chains rusted," Giles told him.

"Giles," Buffy said, "We have no choice. And right now, we have no time. Our first priority has to be Dawn."

Xander sighed. "Yeah, much as I hate to derail the 'let's hate Angel' train, a Glory in the hand is worth an Angelus in the bush." Off of everyone's blank stares he tried again. "We've got bigger fish to fry?" When that didn't do it, he tried again. "Is Anya contagious? Deal with hellgods first, Angel's sex life later."

"Yeah," Willow said quietly. "I - I mean that is what we're here for. Right?"

"Right," Buffy said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "No offense, but I've used up about a week's worth of words tonight. I'm talked out. I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to check on Dawn and then pull the blankets over my head."

Xander nodded, standing up. "Last I saw, she was hauling her backpack up out of the basement."

Spike frowned. "But her backpack wasn't..." he trailed off, looking thoughtful and a little bit perturbed. "Yeah. Er - I think I'll go to bed too," he said, quickly leaving the room.

Xander paused, glancing at Buffy discreetly. "Um, Buff? Are we cool? I mean, did Angel..."

"We're cool," Buffy said. "He did. But we're cool. Just... no more surprises, okay?"

Xander nodded. "Okay."

Giles stood. "Buffy, do you need anything?"

"Nah," Buffy said on her way out of the kitchen. "But thanks."

Angel stared at Wesley, needing a few moments to respond to Wesley's revelation. "That's not the kind of life you should have."

Wesley felt a unexpected rush of bitterness. "Up until a few months ago there was absolutely nothing about my life that I should have had. You would deny me the opportunity to make my own decisions now?"

Angel sat forward. "That's not what I'm saying, Wes -"

"No, it's what I'm saying," Wesley replied. He squeezed Angel's hand again. "I am an adult. I understand the consequences of my actions. I do not dispute that many of my choices do not make sense, or seem sane to those who hear of them. However, they are my choices to make. And if you, of all people, cannot understand or support them then - then perhaps you should send me back to the Watcher's Council."

"Never," Angel said, his voice low but firm. "That's not even an option."

"Then I shall stay with you," Wesley replied. "No matter where you are, or what you go through. Or - or what might be around the corner." He let go of Angel's hand in order to caress his cheek. "I love you, Angel. All of you. Good and bad."

Angel leaned into the touch. "I love you too, Wes," he said, his voice rough. "I - I just wish it didn't have to be like this."

"There are a great deal of things I wish could be different as well," Wesley said. He found himself shivering, and couldn't tell why. "But I shall take what I have."

"What's that, Wes?" Angel asked. His brown eyes were kind as they looked into his own.

Wesley considered several items which he could list, but then settled upon the one which had made them worthwhile. "You."

Angel took that in, watching him for a moment. Then he moved, taking Wesley into his arms and kissing him softly. "You got me," Angel replied. His hands were strong against Wesley's back. "I'm right here."

"But will you stay?" Wesley asked, hating the part of himself that demanded this, that could not give in to the words as they were and let the rest remain a fantasy. "Or will you have some hare-brained scheme of -"

Angel kissed him again, guiding Wesley backwards until they were both lying down on the bed. "No," Angel said. He removed Wesley's glasses, then kissed him again. "No hare-brained schemes. No going it alone. No trying to do this without you. Or Gunn and Cordy."

"We only want to help," Wesley said. Angel's hand found its way inside of the coat and made its way down Wesley's side. The sensation nearly made him cry. "To - to assist you, however we can."

"I know," Angel moved his hand again, running it first under Wesley's sweater, then back down to the buckle of Wesley's belt. "And - and I appreciate that. Need that." Then, with a slight smile, he added. "Need you, Wes."

Wesley finally allowed himself to relax against Angel's touch. "I need you, Angel. I've grown rather fond of you, in fact."

Angel's eyebrows raised as he shifted his position. "Just fond?"

"Affectionate, caring, loving - " Wesley rattled off, finding no difficulty whatsoever in thinking of the words. Angel, in the meanwhile, had undone the front of his slacks and was now stroking Wesley's erection. "Passionate, desiring..."

"Incredible," Angel replied, pushing Wesley's sweater and shirt up and kissing the flat of his stomach. "Wonderful. Brilliant."

As cool as Angel's touch was, Wesley found himself growing warm inside of the leather coat. "Those are not the same thing."

"Still how I'd describe you," Angel said. He cupped Wesley in his hand, manipulating him gently. "Could think of a few more words too."

Wesley moaned, his body immediately responding to the touch. "Angel -"

"Love you, Wes," Angel whispered. He kissed Wesley's lips one last time, then trailed his mouth downward.

"No," Wesley reached out, trying to stop him. "Wait."

Angel looked up, and for the first time Wesley could see the passion in his lover's eyes. "Wes, I really want -"

"I know," Wesley replied, and his body screamed at him to let Angel have his way. But a deeper need came first. "And - and I would at any time, but... I need you."

"Yes?" Angel asked, not disputing the point but questioning why Wesley felt a need to raise it.

Wesley took a breath. "Inside of me."

A look of pleasure - and something not unlike approval - came to Angel's face. He looked as though he might speak, but then abandoned the attempt for another, powerful, kiss. "Love you, Wes," he said at last, leaning back only so that he might shuck his clothes and assist Wesley in doing the same. "I love you."

"Need you, Angel," Wesley said again. He tangled his hand, as best he could, in Angel's hair, holding him close as their bodies pressed together. The feeling of Angel's arousal only served to heighten his own desire. "Please."

Angel trembled against him, rocking his hips into Wesley's own. His tongue found its way into Wesley's mouth, probing him and tormenting him at the same time. Automatically Wesley's legs parted, allowing for the wonderful sensation of Angel's muscles against his thighs.

"Where?" Angel asked, the slightest movement of his body teasing Wesley with his now-warming erection. "Wes, where?"

Comprehension had long since left him. Wesley licked and sucked on Angel's lips, enjoying the response that his own actions solicited. "Inside of me, Angel," he replied, thinking perhaps Angel had forgotten already. Wesley raised his hips for emphasis. "Please."

Angel groaned, the sound sending vibrations through both of their bodies. With both hands, Angel held Wesley down, meeting his eyes urgently. "Wes. The supplies. Where?"

"Oh," Wesley felt embarrassment color his skin. "Bedside table. Travel kit."

"Got it," Angel said. He kissed Wesley in gratitude, then reached up with one hand to grab the bag in question and draw it onto the bed. With quick, deft motions he unzipped it, then found the item in question. "Front or back?"

"Front," Wesley replied. He touched Angel's chest, running his fingernails lightly over Angel's nipples. "I want to see you."

Angel paused, savoring the sensation, then used his thumb to pop open the tube of lubricant. Shifting position yet again, he coated his own fingers, then slid them inside of Wesley, prepping him for what was to follow.

In spite of his stated desire, Wesley felt his eyes start to close. He forced himself to keep them open, if only halfway. "Angel - please. Not too much longer -"

"Don't worry, Wes," Angel said. He closed the tube up again and dropped it on the bed. He moved his hand, sliding his fingers in and out of Wesley's body. "Damn."

"W-what?" Wesley asked, his heart fluttering. He was certain he couldn't take more of this.

"Nothing," Angel replied, gently. "I just like watching you."

"Oh." Once again embarrassment rose up within him. But this time he didn't mind. "Thank you."

Angel smiled, the expression almost a grin. "I like you, Wes."

"And I adore -" Wesley began to speak, then gasped, loosing his thought as Angel removed his hand and thrust himself inside of him.

"We could stay like this all night," Angel said. He positioned Wesley's legs to allow for deeper access. "I could do that, if you wanted."

"I'm sorry," Wesley said, "Am I expected to decline?"

Angel gave a small laugh, kissing him. "Nah. But I think I'll let you come first. I like you like that."

"I like you like this," Wesley replied. "Stay as long as you like."

"Might just do that," Angel said, as though truly considering it. "But first..."

Angel's hands took Wesley by the wrists, holding him down as he once again started moving their bodies together. Long past the point of wanting to hold off, or trying to withhold pleasure, Wesley gave in at once, letting Angel set the pace. Wesley tried to thrust back, to make sure that Angel was satisfied in return, but Angel would not let him. Instead he held Wesley down tighter and thrust his tongue into Wesley's mouth with the same heady rhythm.

It wasn't long before Wesley was gasping, then begging, then shuddering as he finally came over the edge. Angel himself only took a few minutes longer to join him.

"Love you, Wes," he said as they both lay together in blissful, sweat-covered afterglow.

"I love you, Angel," Wesley replied. He stroked Angel's face with a lazy hand. "Do you think you are prepared to come home with me?"

Angel caught Wesley's hand in his own and kissed it. "Yeah. Yeah I am."

Hours later, Buffy found herself sitting in the dark living room of the Watcher house. Absently she began to unwrap the gauze with which Spike had insisted on bandaging her battered hands.

"Buffy?" Willow asked, coming down the staircase and looking at her with concern. "I thought you said you were going to pull the blankets over your head."

"I did," Buffy said. "Turns out that only works in the movies. In real life, all your problems are right there with you. Plus it's really hot, and you can't breathe."

"So is - is the living room any better?" Willow asked, coming to sit down in a chair beside her. As she did, she noticed the TV. "Hey - want me to get you some warm milk? And - and then you and I can stay up all night and watch really strange British shows where they call each other 'ducks'."

Buffy gave Willow a small smile. "Thanks, Will. Normally I'd be all for the watching of the Bizarre Broadcasting Company, but not tonight. I've got too much on my mind."

"Exactly!" Willow said. "This is Willow's Patented Problem Eraser. After all, how - how could anyone be all sad and grumpy when they're watching something called a 'chat show'?"

"You're right, Wills," Buffy said. "But I need to get the grumpy over with. Might as well do it now when I'm not disturbing anybody."

"But Buffy, we're your friends!" Willow said. "We're supposed to be disturbed by you! Um, I mean -"

Buffy smiled again. "I know what you meant, Will."

Willow nodded, giving up on the attempts to be cheery. "Must have been hard seeing Angel again. I - I remember what it was like, when Oz came back."

"Yeah. Now imagine what it'd be like if Oz came back with a boyfriend," Buffy winced, realizing what she just said. "Sorry, Will."

"No, I get it. Kinda like when I found out about Xander and Cordelia," Willow said, then scrunched her face up as a new thought occurred to her. "E-except in this case I guess it'd be more like Xander and Oz. Which is weird."

"Or Cordelia and Oz," Buffy said. "If we're ignoring the guy factor and going for maximum creepage."

"Eew," Willow replied.

"Exactly," Buffy said.

"Or Angel and Cordelia," Willow suggested. "Although Angel and Wesley is still pretty creepy. Wesley and anybody is pretty creepy."

"Angel and anybody is pretty creepy," Buffy said. "If you're Buffy."

"Yeah," Willow said. "Especially since he was all Lone Ranger guy before. When did he figure out he could ... um... do the dating thing?"

Buffy shrugged. "Weeks ago, he said. God knows when he was gonna tell me if Xander hadn't found out."

"So I guess he ... moved on. But - but don't think of it as Angel choosing Wesley over you... think of it as Angel..." Willow sighed, giving up and trying another tactic. "He had no choice but to make a new life for himself. You were gone, and he must have realized all these new things about himself, all these new feelings... and then he found someone who understood what he was going though, and he wasn't lonely anymore. Then he saw you again and realized he had changed too much to go back. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you."

"Um, yeah," Buffy said. "Except I don't think he'd changed that much. I mean, he's changed. He's really, really ... changed. But he did want to come back."

"And yet, he's not here," Willow observed. She smiled suddenly, looking proud. "Did you send him away? Buffy, I think its so great that you're finally ready to let go! Maybe let someone new into your life?"

"No!" Buffy said at once, then added. "Well, yeah, maybe, someday, but I didn't send him away. He decided to go. Again."

"Oh," Willow frowned. "Why?"

"Because Angel wouldn't be happy if he didn't have something to be miserable about? No, that's not fair. True, but not fair," Buffy sighed. "I don't know, Will. He's having sex, he's in a relationship, it seems to me like the rules have changed. But he's not willing to take a chance. At least, not with me."

Willow looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Buffy looked over at her friend. "You should have seen him, Will. The world turned upside down, everything changed, and he's there doing Angel Speech #387 - 'Buffy, I Can't Give You Perfect Happiness'."

"Yeah," Willow said. "But Angel - Angel and perfect happiness -"

"I know," Buffy said, without being mean about it. "But this is my happiness. Angel seems to think he's the only judge of that. I'm not allowed to have an opinion. And I'm not allowed to settle for anything less than perfect. But nothing is perfect. So I guess I end up with nothing. Why can't he see that?"

"He - he just wants to do what's best for you," Willow said.

"But he's not even listening, Will!" Buffy replied. "And what's best for me changes. I change. How's he supposed to know when I don't?"

"When he left you agreed that you needed a normal life," Willow pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm not that good at it," Buffy said. "When Riley left - let's just say I'm not exactly a normal girl. Why should my life be any different? The point is, Will, I told him that. It was like he didn't even hear me. He didn't even miss a beat."

Willow gave another sympathetic frown. "Then... maybe it's best he moved on?"

"Maybe it is. Doesn't stop it hurting like death by papercuts," Buffy said. Then, quietly, added. "When he told me about - about Wesley he said he had to. And I got all ready to tell him everything I was feeling. And then I realized I don't have to. I'm done. I'm off the roller coaster and I'm not getting back in line again. I love him. I don't think that's ever going to change. But the pain is all there is now. I can live with it. I'm gonna have to."

Willow looked up, hearing the sound of the grandfather clock in the front hallway. "You can live with it in the morning, Buffy. You've had your recommended daily allowance of grumpy." She reached over and grabbed Buffy's shirtsleeve, gently pulling her out of her chair and up the stairs. "Why don't you go back to bed now? You need to keep your strength up."

"I guess so," Buffy said, following along reluctantly. At the top of the stairs she gave Willow a hug. "Thanks, Will. I'm just gonna check on Dawn, then it's Bedtime For Buffy, promise."

Willow nodded, then brushed Buffy's hair back from her face. "Sleep well," she said, then continued up the stairs to the room she and Tara shared on the third floor.

Buffy made her way down the hallway to Dawn's room. As she did, she drew up short, realizing that the door to the room was open when it hadn't been before. Fearing the worst, she ran into Dawn's room, her sister's name on her lips.

Sure enough, Dawn was missing. But the distinctive smell of cigarette smoke told Buffy exactly who'd thought it was a good idea to have her out past midnight.

"I'm gonna kill him," Buffy muttered, turning on her heel and walking back downstairs to wait for Spike and her sister to come home.

Epilogue
April, 2001

The hotel lobby was empty when Wesley arrived.

"Angel?" he called out. His voice echoed, rebounding through the lobby's tall ceiling.

"Up here, Wes," Angel replied. Wesley turned and saw him make his way down the staircase. Angel was buttoning up a loose cotton shirt, which Wesley knew Angel found to be comfortable.

"Did you just get in?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah. Nearly didn't make it to the butcher shop in time. Forgot this weekend's a holiday." Angel crossed the lobby floor and stopped to kiss Wesley. "You eaten?"

"No," Wesley said, smiling at the contact. "I came directly from the office."

"Good," Angel replied. He gestured for Wesley to make himself at home, then went over to the small refrigerator that he kept downstairs and began pulling things out of it. "I wanna make you dinner. Up for chicken?"

"That's fine," Wesley said. He took off his coat, laying it and his briefcase down on the countertop. "Mind if I go through a few things while you do?"

Angel shrugged, indicating that he didn't care. He gathered together even more cooking supplies from the various cabinets that he stored them in. The hotel had a large kitchen of its own, but Angel had yet to refurbish it and found it easier to make do with minimal supplies and a hot plate. Particularly since he, of course, did not often cook. "Things go ok at the office?"

Wesley paused, noting how strangely domestic the entire conversation was, before responding. "Yes. I simply wish to take care of a few things while I have a chance."

"Anything important?" Angel asked. He began to cut up the chicken with practiced ease.

"Not particularly," Wesley replied. He took his mail out of his briefcase again and began looking through it, this time opening the envelopes as he went. "What are you making?"

"Dunno," Angel said. The chicken now cut, he poured oil into a pan and placed it on the hotplate. "This is either going to be teriyaki or curry. Haven't decided yet."

"I wouldn't mind something spicy," Wesley offered. "Provided you've beer on hand."

"'Course," Angel said. He glanced over at Wesley, who was studying a credit card statement. "What's up?"

"Our travel expenses," Wesley jotted down the required minimum payment on the bill's envelope, then folded the payment coupon up and slipped it back inside. "I knew they'd be on this month's charges. Lucky for us, everything appears to be in order."

Angel sautéed chicken, occasionally reaching out to toss spices over it. "Are we - is it ok? The money?"

"It's fine," Wesley said. He gave Angel a reassuring look as he opened the next letter. "Far cheaper than a shot to the gut at any rate. Speaking as the head of our organization, I shall highly recommend that all employees choose the former over the latter."

"Yeah, well, speaking as an employee -" Angel started to say, then stopped, losing the momentum of the joke as he could not find the words to complete it. "Just don't do that anymore, ok?"

There was a twitch in Wesley's stomach, a mere ghost of pain compared to what he'd previously experienced. "If you insist. Though this shall greatly affect my career as a sideshow geek." Off Angel's look, he explained, "Such as those gentlemen who catch bullets in their teeth?"

"Oh," Angel said. He added tomatoes and onions to the pan. "Yeah, for that I - I'm gonna have to claim personal privileges, Wes. Speaking, you know, as the guy you're sleeping with. No more bullets." Angel stirred the food, then added "Though, if we're traveling... I - I could suggest a few places."

Wesley frowned, putting the letter he was reading back down on the counter. "Places?"

"Yeah," Angel said, suddenly very busy with his cooking. "Um. You know. To go."

Wesley felt himself begin to smile. "You would take a holiday? An actual break from Los Angeles? From the job?"

"Sure," Angel said. He poured water over the food. "I - I mean maybe. Sometime. With the right person. Or - or maybe ask Cordy and Gunn to come too." He looked worried. "Should we do that? Ask? 'Cause - 'cause I don't want to be rude."

"I think we should find out when the time comes," Wesley said. He stood up, leaning over the counter to kiss Angel. "But I am very pleased that you have even thought to make the suggestion. On all counts."

As always, Angel seemed uncomfortable with the praise. "You know. Just - just trying to do the right thing. Um - this is gonna take twenty minutes," he said, pointing to the newly covered pan. "And I've actually got the beer downstairs. Wasn't enough room in the fridge. Want me to go get it?"

"Please," Wesley said, sitting back down. "Should I keep an eye on the pot?"

"Yeah," Angel said. He collected the miscellaneous debris from the food and threw it into the trash on his way to the basement door. "Turn the heat down if it starts to boil."

"Aye, aye," Wesley promised. Returning his attention back to the mail, he surreptitiously glanced at the still-hidden package. Checking to be certain that Angel was no longer in the room, Wesley reached over and took one of the knives Angel had left behind, using it to cut through the thick tape and peel back the brown wrapping. Quickly stuffing that into his case, he broke through the tape on the inside box, lifting the cardboard lid away.

He paused, seeing the contents.

Heart beating a little bit faster, Wesley again made sure that he was alone as he grasped the wooden stake that was inside. The solid, smooth form of it contrasted with the trembling in his fingers as he read the note which was included.

Just in case, it said. Buffy.

A small expletive nearly came out of his mouth, choked back only at the last moment by the thought that Angel might hear it. Instead, Wesley clumsily put the whole thing back together, thrusting it into his briefcase just as Angel returned upstairs.

"Something wrong?" Angel asked, looking between Wesley and the case as he put down a six pack of beer on the counter, then put another into the now more spacious fridge.

"No," Wesley said, taking one of the beers, cracking it open, and helping himself to a long swallow. He moved his briefcase down to the floor, out of Angel's line of vision. "Just - just something in the mail."

"What?" Angel asked, opening a beer for himself.

Wesley took another drink before replying. "Something - something which might come in handy, some day," he said, knowing his voice sounded flatter than he wished. He looked up at Angel, giving him a brighter smile. "Now then, about our meal..."

-Fin-