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

Rogue Demon Hunter
by The Brat Queen

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

Rated: NC17

Summary: Wesley goes after Angel. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "Questionable Things")

Thanks to: Mer for some suggestions, and Wolfling for the beta read.

THEN

"I want to try."

"Okay, but you don't have to."

Wesley sat up, looking down at Angel as he reclined on his bed. His. Angel. Bed. Wesley was almost certain those words weren't allowed to belong together in a single sentence without some form of negation between them, and yet there they were. And here Angel was. Lying down. In his bed.

God he was handsome.

"I want to try," Wesley repeated.

"Okay," Angel said, a smile playing about his lips. "But you don't have to."

Wesley faltered. There weren't words for a conversation like this. Or there were, but Lord knew he didn't speak them. Not unless his life was flashing before his eyes. "Do you not want me to?"

Angel propped his head up on his hands. "Didn't say that. You want to - then yeah. I'm for it. No complaints. I'm just saying you don't have to."

"But I want to," Wesley said. He felt this couldn't be stressed enough. "Honestly, I do."

"Fair enough," Angel said, his voice easy and reasonable. "But do you want to for me or you?"

Wesley tried to translate that. "Do I want to for... Well it would be you, wouldn't it? If it was for myself - well, it wouldn't be as I'm hardly that flexible. Not that I've ever - that is - er - would you please shut me up now?"

Angel laughed. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Wesley's lips. It was wonderful. Just as he'd remembered it. It startled him still that he had memory of such things. "Breathe," Angel said as he sat back. "And this is what I'm talking about. You don't have to do this. If you want to - okay. But if not - okay. It's not a challenge."

"It's a little bit of a challenge," Wesley pointed out.

"Sure," Angel agreed. "First times - always challenging." Angel gave him a quick look which Wesley dared to think was affectionate. "But what I'm saying is it's not a requirement, like a frat initiation or something. You wanna keep going as we're going - I'm actually pretty happy with that. More than happy with that. No complaints."

"I haven't any either," Wesley told him. "Granted, it's only the few times to judge by, but I must say I've been more than pleased."

"Me too," Angel said. He freed one hand to rest on Wesley's leg. Wesley held still, not wanting to dislodge it. "So there's my point. I'm happy. All those times I've been screaming your name? Good sign, trust me. So if you don't wanna - "

"But I do wanna," Wesley said, then heard himself. "Want to. It's only fair."

"Not about fair," Angel said. "Nobody's keeping score here - "

"You've done me three times," Wesley immediately told him.

Angel smirked. "I'm not keeping score then. There's no limit here, Wes. You're talking to the vampire. Vamps? Pretty patient. I'm not going anywhere. So if you don't want to -"

"Now I'm starting to suspect that you're actually deaf," Wesley said. He looked around for pen and paper. "Shall I write it down for you? Tattoo it onto your chest in Morse Code? Wave flags in semaphore?"

"You don't know semaphore," Angel said, but he didn't sound certain.

"I know Morse Code," Wesley retorted. He began to tap out letters against Angel's chest. "Angel. I. Want. To." He stopped, thought about it, then added. "You. Prat."

"Good thing I'm not Angelus," Angel chuckled.

Wesley quirked his eyebrows. "I assume you've a reason for that besides the obvious?"

"More letters," Angel said. "Would've taken you longer."

Wesley dryly tapped out the five dots and single dash that made up the letters u and s.

"Yeah, yeah," Angel said. He shifted position, lowering himself even further onto the bed. "Okay then. I'm yours."

"That's a promising statement," Wesley said, surprised by his own boldness. He turned around so that he could face Angel more easily. "All right then. Let's get started."

A few moments passed.

"If you're sure," Angel said.

"I am," Wesley replied. He looked down at Angel helplessly. "It's just, well I've never been at it from this angle before. All the times it's happened to me I must say the chain of events made a remarkable amount of sense. However, it's a rather distracting exercise all things considered and doesn't precisely lend itself towards long-term recall of minute details such as how one begins."

Light danced in Angel's eyes. "I love how you talk."

"Thank you," Wesley said. "That's actually not helpful though."

"Sorry," Angel said. He mulled the situation over. "Need advice?"

"Please."

"All right," Angel said. He sat up a bit more. "For starters, you don't actually blow on it."

Unbidden, a bark of laughter escaped Wesley's lips. "Shut up."

"I mean I know they call it a blowjob - "

"Shut up."

"- and, sure, you can if you want - "

"Shut up."

"- but do it the whole time and - "

Wesley pulled one of the pillows out from underneath Angel and swatted him with it. "Shut up. I know. I've actually had them myself, you know."

"Okay, okay," Angel laughed. He held up his hands in a sign of peace. "Just checking. Besides - " Angel brushed his fingertips over Wesley's cheek "- you were taking this too seriously. Relax. It's okay. You won't screw it up. Promise."

"Famous last words," Wesley said. He gathered his courage and took the plunge.

Angel was wearing black jeans. They fit him comfortably, as his jeans always did. Never skin-tight, but tight enough that they hinted at his muscular form. A part of Wesley which was surprisingly chatty given their current circumstances began to rabbit on in the back of his head about vampire anatomy and their known abilities to lose or gain weight and/or musculature until Wesley finally told that part of himself to be quiet because he was attempting to give a blowjob, not a dissertation.

He undid the button and zipper of Angel's pants easily enough. This he'd done before, during the times they'd made love together. He still had to adjust his hands to account for the fact that he was undressing another person, but all things considered it wasn't entirely different from the times that he'd undressed his girlfriends and various one night stands.

Of course what was underneath the zipper was new.

Wesley pulled the now open fly apart, then down. He wanted it out of his way, but didn't want to completely undress Angel just yet. Somehow he knew that it would be far too much to attempt this with Angel - or even himself - in a naked state. It was a security measure for his eyes, he realized. He could have places to look where it would be just himself, and just Angel, and that would allow him a moment to catch his breath and keep from panicking at what he was attempting to do.

He moved his hand into Angel's trousers next. This, too, he'd done before, although his heart sped up at it all the same. Angel. Angel's... cock. Hardening. Under his hand. The whole concept was intoxicating and distracting. The idea of it teased through his mind and fired nerves and instincts he didn't even dare give name to, for all that the focus of them was right there in front of him and quietly, without saying a word, urging him on.

"All right so far?" Wesley asked, suddenly aware of how silent the room was.

"Perfect," Angel told him. He ran a lazy hand down Wesley's back. "No complaints."

"Good," Wesley said. There were butterflies in his stomach. They actually hurt, as he hadn't fully healed yet. He thought about telling Angel about his stomach being filled with butterflies that carried knives, but then abandoned the idea because he was certain Angel had more than enough evidence at his disposal to prove that Wesley was completely mental.

A change of position seemed to be in order. Wesley did so, lying down beside Angel. This brought Angel closer into view. Wesley stared. Then, with curious detachment, he reached into Angel's jeans again and pulled him out.

God.

Angel was hard. Not as hard as he could be, Wesley knew, but hard all the same. Automatically Wesley began to stroke him, and Angel made a tiny sound of pleasure in response. Wesley smiled, feeling himself relax at that. This he knew how to do. He'd done it to Angel several times before and each time Angel had enjoyed it. Wesley rather considered it a skill now. He added it to his mental CV of sexual accomplishments, right next to good use of his teeth on a woman's nipples, for all that that was ever likely to be useful again.

Something with his mouth was next. He knew that. He licked his lips, trying to get himself ready through the power of visualization. Move forward, then put lips on cock. He could do it. He knew he could.

Positive thinking, however, was incredibly 2D. Or at least it wasn't fully sensory. He couldn't get himself to the point of imagining what Angel's cock would feel like in his mouth, for all that the sensation of Angel's cock inside of him was something Wesley knew he would never forget even if he and Angel never had sex again for the rest of his life.

But this - this was real. Very real. It was a man's cock. Attached to a real man. A man who moved, and made sounds, and had a musky scent that - that wasn't really like anything, although it reminded him of locker rooms, and the halls of public school and university.

"Take your time," Angel said, his voice soft and unobtrusive.

"Just forming a plan of attack," Wesley said, his hand never stopping. Had time passed? He couldn't tell how much time had passed.

"Whenever you're ready," Angel told him. He punctuated the comment with a squeeze of Wesley's shoulder, and Wesley remembered times when Angel had similarly encouraged him during the course of their time together - Good shot. Nice work. Knew I could count on you.

Wesley leaned forward and licked.

The world didn't end. That was the first thing he was aware of. As the chemical rush of nerves subsided, he was also aware of how fleeting that had been. He couldn't even tell if there had been a taste.

He licked again, this time making sure his tongue swiped several inches.

Yes. There. Faint, but there. A taste. Something like...

Wesley licked again.

Well of course. Angel's sweat. He'd tasted that before. Nothing new there. Wesley's mouth had become more than familiar with this during the course of their lovemaking.

He licked again to be certain.

Saltier, he decided. It was somewhat saltier, which made sense given the various things which would cause a pH difference, even in a vampire.

"Doing okay there, Wes?" Angel asked. One hand was propped behind his head again. The other rested against the sheets.

"Hmm?" Wesley blinked. "Oh. Yes. Fine. Thank you."

"Good to know," Angel said.

Lips would be next, he thought. Actually, thinking about it, he recalled that in his experience lips were first but he hoped Angel wouldn't hold that against him. He moved his hand down to the base of Angel's cock, then wrapped his mouth around the tip.

Then he let go, licked his lips to wet them, and tried again.

There. That was better. Smoother. Less friction. Undoubtedly less chapping too, for both parties. Women had it easy. They had lipstick to help ease the way in these matters. But spit, it seemed, would more than suffice.

Movement. He recalled movement next. He moved his lips down, then up on Angel's cock. Just a fraction at first, then an inch, then two. Angel shifted beneath him, which Wesley took as a positive sign. He tried moving again, caressing Angel with the circle of his mouth.

"Nice, Wes," Angel told him.

Wesley started to speak, recalled himself, pulled himself off and smiled up at Angel. "Thank you."

Angel was grinning back at him. "Don't let me interrupt."

"No," Wesley assured him. "I appreciate the feedback."

For some reason this made Angel chortle. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Excellent," Wesley said. He studied Angel's cock again, then returned his mouth to it.

All right, what was next? Licking, he knew, could be done at the same time as the rest of this oral massage, but was that too redundant? Would Angel prefer something new before returning to techniques already tried?

In truth there was only one way to find out. Wesley swirled his tongue along the underside of Angel's cock at the same time as he slid his lips down the shaft.

Angel gave a soft groan.

Wonderful! All right, this was progress. Lips and tongue at the same time was apparently something that Angel liked. Wesley resolved to remember that for future reference. He continued the action, modifying the movements of his tongue to see the various responses this produced.

Angel shifted underneath him, raising his hips slightly. He hissed as Wesley's tongue danced closer to the tip of his cock again.

Wesley immediately let go. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. No," Angel replied. He gave Wesley a shaky grin. "Promise. You can - um. Keep going. With that. It's fine."

"Are you sure?" Wesley asked.

"Positive," Angel told him. He let go of the fist he'd made in the sheets and patted Wesley's arm again. "Love you."

Wesley felt a rush of warmth go through him. "I love you too."

Angel's hand moved up to caress the back of Wesley's neck. Wesley felt himself beginning to stir at the touch. "Keep going."

"All right," Wesley said, happy to comply. "Let me know if I do something wrong?"

"You bet," Angel promised.

Wesley lowered his head once more. Angel's hand remained at the back of his neck, and Wesley decided he rather liked the comforting weight. He shifted position so that Angel's hand could rest more easily, then he wrapped his lips around Angel's cock and resumed his ministrations.

Lips, licking - sucking. Sucking was bound to be next. Wesley took in a breath through his nose and steadied himself. He told himself it wasn't terribly likely that a light suck would cause Angel to explode inside of him. His heart fluttered, unconvinced, but Wesley attempted it anyway.

Angel gave a quick moan. His hand tightened on Wesley's neck, encouraging him.

Wesley smiled. That actually hadn't been so bad.

He sucked again.

Angel's fingers made a knot at the back of Wesley's neck. "Nice," Angel murmured.

Wesley began to suck in earnest.

This was... rather comforting, actually. Surprisingly so. He didn't know why, but he'd always imagined this sort of thing was, well, hard work. It was called a "job", after all. If it was meant to be easy certainly there would have been a name for it which encompassed the idea of play. But, as Angel had already pointed out, it wasn't as though one actually blew on the penis either.

It took a few tries to find some sort of rhythm of lips and tongue and pressure, but after a few moments Wesley felt certain he had the hang of it. Breathing took a bit longer to get used to, but Wesley blamed himself for that. He kept forgetting that he had to.

This felt wonderful.

Arousing. Yes, that was it. He had had no idea how arousing this could be. His own cock twitched and ached, pressing against the fly of his trousers. Wesley sucked harder and felt himself respond.

Fascinating!

Angel for his part moved underneath him. This changed the position of his cock in Wesley's mouth. Wesley moved in turn, chasing after it as need be. He found himself thrilling at the thought of keeping Angel's cock right where it was. In his mouth. Where it was meant to be.

Angel's hips lifted up. Wesley grazed Angel with his teeth.

"Sorry!" Wesley said, letting go of him at once. He blinked to clear his vision. "Sorry. I'm so - "

Angel silenced him with firm pressure on the back of his neck. He met Wesley's eyes, his own hinting of gold. "Teeth," he said, speaking as though each word were difficult for him, "are fine."

"Oh," Wesley said, remembering the species his lover was. "Yes. Of course. I suppose they would be, wouldn't they?"

"Uh-huh," Angel said. He licked his own lips. Wesley felt a shiver of desire run through him. "Go on, Wes. Don't stop."

"Shall I..." Wesley trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase the question. Various lines from pornography suggested themselves, but he knew without a doubt that he'd never be able to speak them. "Er - finish?"

Angel smiled. He moved his hand forward to trace around Wesley's lips. Wesley turned, trying to follow it. "Yeah. Please, Wes. Finish."

"Thank you," Wesley said. When in doubt, common courtesy was always a reliable standby for conversation. He kissed the tip of Angel's finger, turned his head so that Angel could rest his hand on his neck again, then bent down once more.

Practicalities once again reared their heads. How did one - well - seal the deal? He licked and sucked up and down the shaft until an idea presented itself. Then, remembering what they'd just talked about, he tried running his teeth up and down Angel's cock as well.

Angel groaned and rocked into him. "That's it. Perfect."

Would biting be an option? Or - oh yes, one could use hands. Wesley took Angel's balls with his left hand and began to massage and caress them. He tugged, timing the gesture with a pulse of his mouth.

"Wes," Angel moaned. "Wes - I'm gonna -"

Wesley wondered why Angel was warning him. After all, an orgasm was the point, was it not? He bobbed his head further, increasing his pace. Truth be told he didn't want to finish. He rather liked the idea of staying right here. But Angel was - there was no other way to put it - exceptionally beautiful when he came. Wesley rather liked the sight of that too.

He sucked, and licked, and pulled, and ran his teeth up and down. Angel moaned, and moved, and clung his hand to the back of Wesley's neck.

"Please, Wes - please."

His own cock was dying. He was certain the front of his pants had become stained. But it didn't matter. Angel liked this. Angel loved this. Wesley was more than content to do it for the rest of time. If only he could figure out -

Oh! Of course!

Humming.

Wesley made a low sound, feeling it vibrate in his throat.

Angel jerked, and cried out. "Wesley! Jesus - Wes - "

Fluid. Far too much fluid. He gagged, but the thought of spitting was abhorrent to him. He forced his reflexes down, then swallowed. It was strange, but he managed it. The texture was... unique. As was the sour/salty taste. But it was Angel. A part of Angel, which was now inside of him.

Wesley licked Angel's cock clean.

"Perfect," Angel murmured. His hand moved down to stroke Wesley's side. He looked sleepy, and content. "Absolutely perfect, Wes."

Wesley beamed with pride. "Do you think I might try it again, then?"

Angel smiled and pulled him into his arms. "Anytime, Wes. Anytime."

NOW

"I am going to kill him," Wesley declared as he slammed the door of the hotel behind him.

Gunn looked up from his position by the counter. "Who? Angel, or the Host?"

"Angel," Wesley said. He stalked across the lobby, threw his duffel bag down to the floor and began to fill it with items from the weapons cabinet - stakes, knives, his Vixen crossbow and .22 pistol - the bag took it all easily. "I'm going to find him, nail his feet to the bloody floor, and then beat him to a jelly."

Gunn came over. He helped hold the bag open, watching with interest as the weapons piled in. "So - no luck at Caritas?"

"Oh no," Wesley said, bitterly. He pulled the cabinet's drawer open and added tasers and extra bullets to his supplies. "I enjoyed a very lovely cocktail and caught up on the latest gossip regarding Peter, the new bartender. Of course," Wesley added, standing up and smoothing down his leather pants and jacket, "if I had been hoping to gain any information about Angel's whereabouts it would have been a little disappointing, but as I naturally didn't have my hopes up in that area - "

"Ouch," Gunn said sympathetically.

"The Host had nothing?" Cordy asked, coming over to join them. "Nada?"

"Nada, zip, zero, the absence of anything, a large gaping hole where information would be," Wesley said, grabbing his bag and bringing it into his office. "Nothing. Apparently Angel's moving too quickly and - oh, here's a shock - without purpose. I'll have to use old fashioned methods."

"So you're going after him?" Gunn asked.

"Yes," Wesley said. He unlocked his magic cabinet and began putting various jars and vials into his travel kit. "I'm going to track him down, bring him home, and then put a leash on him."

"You could swat him with a rolled up newspaper," Cordy suggested.

Wesley thought about it. "I could. Especially if it had a lead pipe wrapped inside of it."

"You sure about this, bro?" Gunn asked.

Wesley zipped up his kit. "Oh yes. Absolutely. In point of fact I think a lead pipe is far too kind for him, but he's got a thick skull and I'm sure I'll be able to find something heavier to use for the second round."

"Funny," Gunn said, "But I meant are we sure this is a good idea?"

Wesley put his kit down and folded his arms, staring at his friend. "Yes. I am. Is there a problem?"

Gunn and Cordy exchanged a look.

"Wes," Cordy said, "Angel's trying to protect you."

"Yes," Wesley said. "And he's being an ass. Next question?"

"Cordy gets a vision," Gunn said, ticking the items off on his fingers. "So bad she's hurting for months. So bad who knows how many people went helpless while the Powers waited for us to figure this out. Angel finally trips the vision over. We see it's him. He blows outta town - "

"And my headache gets better," Cordy finished.

Wesley sighed, putting his hands down flat against his desk. "I know. Cordelia, I do. But that isn't clear - "

"Pretty clear to me," Gunn said.

Wesley met his eyes. "It's circumstantial evidence. At best."

"Wes, I'm crazy about him too," Cordy said. "Okay, maybe not in the rip-his-clothes-off way that you are, but he's like family to me. The good kind, not the dysfunctional kind. Okay, maybe he's a little dysfunctional but - "

"The point, Cordy?" Wesley gently prompted her.

"He's a little dysfunctional," Cordy said. "That's my point. He's a nice guy, he's got a soul, but he's a vampire. He knows how to hurt people. He knows how to hurt the people that he loves. Look at what he did to Buffy!"

"He lost his soul," Wesley said.

"He didn't have to lose his soul!" Cordy replied. She made a grand gesture in the direction of Sunnydale. "Wes - Buffy's so screwed up now she's dating Spike of all people! And besides," she added, "maybe the soul is what's saving you. Maybe the soul's letting him know that if he loves you -"

"If he loves me then he stays with me," Wesley said, daring either of them to argue with him. "Angel is my partner. In everything. If either one of you have any difficulty with that reality then speak up now and I'll know not to bother coming back here."

"Hold up," Gunn said, motioning for everyone to calm down. "Nobody's saying that."

"Then what are you saying?" Wesley asked.

"See the forest for the trees, Wes," Cordy said. She reached across the desk and pressed a cool hand over one of his. "Nobody's saying they don't like Angel. Nobody's saying they don't like how you feel about him. Or how he feels about you. What we're saying is - maybe Angel had the right idea."

"Man knows himself better than anyone," Gunn said, nodding his agreement.

"No," Wesley said. "He doesn't. He only thinks he does, and that's the real danger."

"Your life - " Cordy started.

Wesley turned to her. "My life is no more in danger from Angel than ever it was. He's a vampire. If either one of you suspect that I have somehow forgotten that - " Wesley hefted his bag and slammed it down onto the desk, letting some of the stakes spill out of it. "I beg to differ."

Gunn looked down at the weapons, then back up at Wesley. "Maybe we should go with you."

"No," Wesley said. "You stay here. I need you both to stay here. I don't know how long I'll be and someone needs to watch over things."

"I can handle the office," Cordy said.

He gave her a quick smile. "I know you can. Charles - I'll trust you to be our man of action while I'm about. I'll have my mobile on me in case of emergency."

Cordy shrugged. "Worst case scenario we can always call Giles."

Wesley remembered Rupert's reaction to Angel and Wesley's relationship. "Worst case scenario it might be best not to call Giles. But I leave it up to you."

"How long?" Gunn said.

"Before...?" Wesley asked.

"You gonna give it," Gunn said. "How long 'til you decide the man doesn't want to be found?"

"There's no such thing," Wesley said. "I'll keep going until I find him. End of story. Now is there anything else?"

"Take care?" Cordy suggested.

Wesley nodded. "I will. Promise."

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA - TWO WEEKS LATER

Angel stood on the levee and looked out across the river. A breeze blew past him. It was warm, humid. Not like LA where the air was always dry, for all that it was right smack up against an ocean. The difference between a desert and a swampland, he figured.

He'd never visited swampland before. He and Darla had gone through some tropic regions in their time, but nothing like this. This was wet, and decaying, and god-damned depressing when it got right down to it.

It'd be perfect, except he decided he hated humidity and any town without a tunnel-filled sewer system was pretty much wasted on vampires. What the Hell were all those goth kids thinking?

He walked down the levee to the train tracks. Nothing was coming. Occasionally he heard the bells and metallic scrapes and pops of the streetcar as it made a 90 degree turn not far from where he'd left his car, but other than that there was nothing. No trains, anyway.

He walked down the tracks for lack of anything better to do. He'd lost the view of the river again, so he kept his eyes downward on the slats of broken wood and the crushed seashells that apparently replaced rock in a town that was surprisingly nautical for all that you rarely saw the water that supposedly defined it.

He could cope with here, he figured. He'd passed a few places on St. Charles that looked like hotels. He could bunk in one of them for the day. Better uptown than in the French Quarter, which was loud, obnoxious, smelly, and filled with tourists.

Granted, it had alcohol. But in this town the drug stores had alcohol. He wouldn't lack for whisky, provided he didn't care much about what brand it was.

He fingered the bottle that was inside of his jacket. Half full. He'd be able to fix that before the night was out.

Bed here for the day, then - what? North or south?

South was Florida. He'd never been to Florida. But Florida felt confining. A dead end. Nowhere to go but water. North was a direction. He could get on I-95 and keep going. But to where? Hike west again at some point? Try Canada? Stay on I-95 and hit New York?

New York. New York was... painful. For lots of reasons. His stomach twisted, and he palmed his bottle of don't-even-ask whisky and took a slug from it.

No. Not New York.

He could fly. Take a night flight to anywhere. Or, Hell, grab a blanket and take any flight to anywhere. He could be in Japan inside of two days. Or China. It'd been a century since he'd been in China. Maybe this time he'd even like it.

Except he wouldn't. Because right now he didn't like much.

He didn't want to stay. He didn't want to stay still. The temptation to get into his car and drive until the sun told him to stop was nearly overwhelming. Except that would only be a few hours more of movement. No promise he'd find a place to stay, and he was just cranky enough to want a proper bed instead of camping out in the greenhouse-like heat of his trunk.

The tracks hummed beneath him. He stepped off, moving in the direction of the invisible river, and kept walking until the train passed, the sound of its horn making its way to him long before the actual machine appeared.

He stood still, letting himself be buffeted by the wind of its passing. He thought about grabbing on - just reaching out a single hand and catching it - and letting it take him where ever it was going.

Except that was probably Florida, and he didn't want to go there.

He stood still and felt useless. The train kept going, filling his world for as far as the eye could see. The sound of it roared in his ears, and when he bothered to breathe he could smell grease, coal and metal.

When it passed he gave up on the idea of walking the tracks, and turned back towards the levee.

A dark figure stood on top of it.

"I am hot, I am tired, and I have driven the entire length of this god-forsaken country on a motorbike," Wesley said, his voice carrying easily to him this close to the water. "Therefore I suggest that you make the next words out of your mouth phenomenally good."

"Go home," Angel told him.

"Wrong choice," Wesley said.

"There's no choice," Angel said. "Go home. Now."

Wes made his way down the levee, looking almost deadly in his black leather. "I'm not a dog, Angel, I'm your lover. And your partner. And I have been through too much for you to treat me as though I were disposable."

"This is not a discussion," Angel said. He turned away and walked down the tracks again. If Wes was there, that meant he'd seen the car. He'd have a better chance of losing him on foot in the night.

"No," Wes said, speeding up to fall into a pace beside him. "It isn't. You're coming home."

"Like fuck I am."

"Then I'm staying with you," Wes replied. He reached out to grab Angel's arm. "Angel, I'm not - "

Angel whirled around, grabbing Wes with both hands and shaking him. "No, you're not. You're not anything, Wesley. Not a Slayer. Not a vamp. Just a mortal."

Wes didn't flinch. "You're scared, aren't you?"

"I could kill you," Angel said. He wrapped his hands tighter around Wes's arms. Bruising him, he knew, in spite of the protective leather. "I could kill you right now. Wanna stop me?"

"You won't," Wesley said.

"Ya think?" Angel taunted. He shoved, throwing Wesley down onto the tracks. Wesley scrabbled to right himself, but Angel was on him before he could stand. "C'mon, Wes. Stop me."

"Angel - " Wes's voice held a warning tone.

Angel laughed. He morphed into game face, leaning in close as he rested his hands and weight on Wes's shoulders. "Stop me, Wes. C'mon. Say it. I wanna hear you try to stop me."

"Fine," Wesley said, and a blossom of pain exploded in Angel's chest.

He leapt back, roaring. "Fuck!"

Another burst accompanied it. Then another. Each hitting his chest. One hitting his heart. He staggered backwards, dropping out of game face in his shock.

"Hear that clearly enough?" Wesley asked. He stood up, the pistol in his hand never wavering. "Because I will do it again if we require further demonstration."

Angel pressed a hand to his chest, staring stupidly at the blood that coated it. "Fuck," he said, when no other words would come.

"Oh," Wesley cooed, still holding the gun in front of him. "Did I hurt the Scourge of Europe with my little pistol? Does he need a lolly?"

"This is serious, Wesley!" Angel snapped. He glared up at him from his position on the ground.

"Is it really?" Wesley shot back. "Bloody Hell - don't tempt me to use this again simply because you're an idiot. You'll find my temper very short at the moment, and it's not going to go pleasantly for you."

"Guns don't kill me," Angel told him.

"Quite the news flash, that," Wes replied. He slipped his free hand into his pocket and produced a vial of clear liquid. "Well then. Let's find out which one of us is faster." Wes trained the gun higher, aiming it directly at Angel's right eye. His mouth twisted in the parody of a grin. "Come on, Angel. Tell me to stop. I want to hear you say it."

"This isn't a relationship, Wesley," Angel said.

"No," Wes agreed. "It's an argument."

"It's a sick joke," Angel said. He stood up, moving slowly and keeping his hands where Wes could see them. "Is this your life, Wes? Is this what you want? The rest of your life spent with a guy you have to shoot in order to trust?"

"I don't have to shoot you to trust you," Wesley said, looking as though he were close to pulling the trigger again. "I trust you because I know you. I have to shoot you in order to make you sit still."

"You can't live like this!" Angel said.

"According to whom?" Wes demanded. He gestured with the hand that held the Holy water. "You?"

"Yeah," Angel replied. "Who else?"

Wes gave a bark of laughter. "Me might be a start."

"You're not thinking clearly," Angel told him.

"Coming from the man who reeks of Dewar's I find that highly rich," Wesley said.

"I mean in general," Angel said. He made his own gesture of frustration, feeling it stretch the quickly healing skin on his chest. "Wes - think about it. We can't stay together."

"Why?" Wes asked. His voice held the tiniest plaintive note in it.

Angel gave him what he felt was the most obvious response. "How's Cordy's head?"

The look in Wes's eyes gave him away. "That's not the point."

"I'm thinking it is."

"I'm thinking you can't think if your bloody life depended upon it," Wes retorted. "Yes, Cordelia's headache is gone. Yes, the vision was about you. Yes - "

"I'm a danger to you," Angel finished.

Wes met his eyes. "Yes, you're a danger to me."

There was silence.

"So we're done," Angel said.

"No," Wesley said. "We're not."

Angel shrugged. "I'm not seeing - "

"Then shut up before I use this on you again," Wes told him, aiming the gun back at his chest. "Yes, Angel, you are a danger to me. You're a vampire. I'm aware of that. I used to be a Watcher, you know - "

"You used to hate me," Angel said, talking over him. "Couldn't stand to be in the room with me. Couldn't stand it when I touched you. You used to know not to turn your back on me."

"And I was wrong," Wesley said.

"You were right," Angel retorted. "Wes - what are we doing? What's going on with us? We're touching on things - "

"That you like," Wes finished.

"Yeah," Angel said, "that I like."

Wesley returned the Holy water to his pocket. He pulled out a knife in its place. "All right, then. Let's finish this."

"Excuse me?" Angel said.

Wesley holstered his gun at the back of his pants and shucked his coat to the ground. His arms were bare, thanks to a black T-shirt. "Let's have it out, right now," Wesley said.

Angel waved a hand in the direction of the knife. "With what? A rumble? Wes, that's hardly going to - "

Wesley brought the blade up and cut a slice across his right arm.

"Jesus!" Angel leapt forward, yanking the knife out of the way. "Wesley, what the fuck - "

"Proving a point," Wes answered.

Angel held Wes's left hand in a viselike grip. He twisted it, making Wes drop the knife to the ground. "Wes, you're hurting yourself."

"I'm not unaware of that," Wes pointed out. He jerked in Angel's embrace, bringing his right arm in between them.

Angel drew back from the stronger scent of blood. "No."

"Drink."

Angel pushed him away. "No."

Wesley came back, holding his arm out. Blood was smeared across his pale flesh. "That's your fear, isn't it? That I can't be in a relationship with a beast like you?"

Angel put a hand to his forehead, straining not to change face again. "Get out of here."

"Angel - "

He morphed, turning back to Wesley and snarling. "Get out of here!"

Wesley stood still. "No."

Angel struggled against himself. "Wes - please."

"I'm sorry," Wes said, his voice gentle. "I'm sorry we didn't address this sooner, love. You are right. It's a danger. You, are a danger. And you always shall be, until you control it."

"I am controlling it!" Angel shot back. He tried to look at Wesley's eyes, and not at the wound that filled the air with its scent. "This is control, Wes."

"No," Wesley said. He wiped his left hand across his arm and held it out to him. "It's denial. You're not human, Angel. You're a vampire. You drink blood. You're dark, and occasionally violent."

"Go, Wes," Angel begged. "Please, just go."

Wesley stepped forward, still speaking. "You're also strong. And brave. You came all the way out here to protect me. You gave up your entire life to protect me. Angel, how could I not feel safe in your arms?"

Angel surged forward, grabbing him again. "I could kill you."

Wesley met his eyes. He caressed the ridges of Angel's face with a bloody hand. "You won't."

Angel moaned, and bit into his neck.

Wes stiffened, freezing with momentary surprise. Then he relaxed, and put his arms around him. "Angel..." he sighed.

Angel drank. God it felt good. Hot, human, mortal - Wes. Wes's blood, so perfect and tasty. He cradled Wesley close, tangling a hand in his hair.

"Shh - it's all right," Wesley whispered. He caressed Angel's back soothingly. "I promise, it's all right."

All right? What - oh. Wet. His eyes. He pulled back, automatically licking at his lips to clean them. "Wes - I'm sorry. I - I never meant - "

"But you did," Wesley said. He brushed soft kisses over Angel's cheeks. "And you stopped. I'm safe from harm."

"You're bleeding," Angel said. He felt his fangs and bumps melt away as he patted his pockets ineffectively. "I - we should fix that."

Wesley produced a handkerchief. Angel took it from him and pressed it to the bite in his neck with one hand, applying pressure below the cut on his right arm with the other. "I'll be fine," Wesley told him.

"This... what just happened here?" Angel asked. His head felt thick, as though he were dreaming.

Wes looked at him quizzically. "Can't you remember?"

"I remember," Angel said, pulling the handkerchief back to test if the wound was clotted. "I just - I don't understand."

"I'm in a relationship with a vampire," Wesley told him. "That means relating to one another by unusual methods."

Angel refolded the handkerchief to find a clean corner, and pressed that to Wesley's arm. "Smaller words, Wes."

Wes smirked. "I'm not afraid. Nor should you be."

"I haven't drunk human blood in over a year," Angel said. His mind still held the memory of Kate.

"Angel, may I point out something to you?" Wesley asked.

Angel examined the cut on Wes's arm. It had been shallow, and was already starting to heal. "Sure."

"Cordy's visions tend to show the victim and the attacker."

Angel looked back up at him. "So?"

"All she saw was you, " Wesley said, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Angel blinked. "I don't - "

Wes silenced him with a fingertip. "You're your own worst enemy, love."

Angel ducked his head in order to speak. "No news there."

"No," Wes agreed. "There isn't. However, the problem is not insurmountable. You can prevail."

"I thought I was," Angel said. "I had a handle on it, Wes. I was controlling the vamp stuff. Now - "

"Angel," Wes said, speaking slowly and distinctly. "You are a vampire."

Angel waited for there to be more. When nothing was forthcoming, he prompted: "Yes?"

Wes sighed. "Which means that you always shall be a vampire, until such time as the prophecy comes true. In the meanwhile, you can't deny your nature."

"I can control it," Angel said.

"Yes," Wesley repeated. "Control it. Not deny it."

"I control it by denying it," Angel said.

"No," Wesley shot back. "You deny it and it controls you. He controls you."

Angel frowned. "Who - "

"Angelus."

Angel became quiet.

"Angel," Wesley said, meeting his eyes, "I love you no matter what. I want you to remember that. However, if you are to succeed, if you are to find true redemption, you cannot ignore what you are."

"Evil," Angel said.

"Evil," Wes agreed. "But also good."

Angel shook his head. "It's not possible."

"I assure you that millions of generations of humanity have managed it."

Angel smiled in spite of himself. "Not the point."

"Actually it is," Wesley said.

Angel ran a hand over his eyes. He felt tired and energized all at once. "I can't."

Wesley tilted his head to expose the bitemark. "You did."

Angel reached out a finger and traced the tender skin. "I love you, you know."

"I know," Wesley said. He put his hand over Angel's and squeezed it gently.

"This - this isn't over yet," Angel said.

Wesley nodded. "I didn't say that it was."

Angel swallowed. He met Wes's eyes again. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Wesley said. He paused, then added "Why didn't you even kiss me goodbye?"

"You would have told me not to go," Angel replied.

"That doesn't suggest something to you?"

Angel chuckled. He looked east. "Sun's coming up."

"We should find shelter," Wesley said.

He thought about bolting. He could have done it. A quick burst of vamp speed, shake Wesley off his tail, stay low until nightfall and then hop a plane to who knew where.

But he couldn't.

"I love you," Angel said, as though defending himself.

Wesley moved closer. He teased him with a kiss. "I love you as well. No matter what. Now let's get inside."

He felt it again. One last urge to run away.

He ignored it, and threaded his hand through Wesley's. "Okay. And maybe get you cleaned up. You look like Hell."

"Thank you for noticing," Wes said dryly as he picked up his coat and started the walk back to their vehicles.

Fin.