Home / Fan Fiction / Angel / Epiphany / The High and Low Road

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.

The High and Low Road
by The Brat Queen and Buffybot

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

Rated: PG

Summary: Angel, Wes and Faith all have things they need to cope with. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "Probation")

Thanks to: Wolfling for the beta read.

Angel lay very still, with his eyes closed.

He didn't move. After years of practice teaching his body how to move - how to snap a leg bone using one of eight favorite kicks, or to deflect a weapon with a block of his arm that didn't render every muscle in his body powerless - he found it strange to do the opposite. To lie there. Doing nothing.

It made him feel itchy.

But itchy was better than the alternative. Better than the complete lack of control he now had over whatever his body had become since the trial. Just last night he'd broken two glasses. Then torn his shirt in a way that was more embarrassing than sexy.

He wondered if it had been his favorite shirt. He wondered why he couldn't even tell if it had been.

Wes lay beside him. They weren't touching. Wes had shifted away from his arms during sleep and Angel had felt safer letting him. The only movement in the bed came from Wes's breathing. That, and deeper down, subtler, the feeling of Wes's blood moving through his veins.

Angel's skin had never been so sensitive, but he could feel damn near each and every river of blood that kept Wes alive as it swooshed through Wes's body, making tiny vibrations reverberate through the mattress.

It wasn't bad, but after a while it made his eyes hurt.

He didn't know why.

It was almost morning. Morning meant getting up. Dressing. Shaving - crap, shaving. That one was getting worse and worse every day. Only his vampiric (and also improved) healing ability kept him from facing the world looking like one of Jack the Ripper's test victims. After that there was work. Meetings. Assignments. Wes had kept him benched since their arrival back in LA, but Angel knew it was only a matter of time before he had to go out on cases again. He definitely would have by now, if not for Gunn's kids helping to fill out the team.

Granted, now there was a new member.

If he shifted his attention just slightly, Angel could hear Faith in her room. It wasn't until he did so that he realized he was relieved. Part of him hadn't been sure that she would stay the night. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd left.

Hell, part of him would've joined her. At least for the running off part.

But he couldn't do that. Wouldn't. Not again.

Not without Wes.

"Brooding," Wesley mumbled. He moved over, scootching across the mattress until his back rested against Angel's side.

"Morning to you too," Angel said.

Wesley took Angel's arm and repositioned it so that he could use it as a pillow. "You're thinking so intently that I am getting a headache."

"Sorry."

"What's wrong?" Wes asked.

"Nothing," Angel lied.

"I'm not that unawake," Wesley retorted.

"That's not even a word," Angel pointed out, but complied. "Just thinking of stuff."

"Proper nouns, Angel, we've had this conversation before."

"Faith."

"I take it back. I prefer it when you're ambiguous."

Angel winced at that. Wes, undoubtedly figuring out the inadvertent double-meaning, immediately hugged his arm tighter.

"I'm sorry," Wesley said. "Although it's true as well."

Then why did you apologize? Angel wanted to ask, but instead happily leapt back to the comparatively easier topic. "She's still here."

"Lucky us," Wes commented, dryly.

"Could be," Angel replied. "I mean if I'm out of commission - "

"You are not - "

"For the immediate future," Angel quickly amended, "then a Slayer on the team's just what we need."

"In my experience," Wesley observed, "my life is rarely improved by the presence of Slayers."

Angel couldn't really argue that. But he offered a counterpoint. "Mine is."

Wesley sighed.

"I know you don't like her," Angel said.

"We're not going to talk about this anymore."

"All I'm saying is - "

"Angelus."

And there it was. The name. The one that only Wes managed to say with any form of normality. Or, for that matter, tenderness.

Angel knew Wes only used it when he meant business.

He shut up.

"She can stay," Wesley conceded. "But that ends the discussion. All right?"

Angel nodded. "All right."

Faith woke up bleary eyed and confused. She seemed to have sheets, and a blanket, not to mention the pillows that were many steps away from rock hard. Huh? She blinked a few times and swiped her hand across her eyes to remove any stray pieces of sleep goo. Oh yeah, hotel, Angel, job. Possibly weirdest day ever.

She threw back the covers and swung her legs out of bed. Clothes, clothes... she scanned the room, finally spotting the untidy pile of her things in the corner. She wondered if they had a washer/dryer here. That underwear was gonna be seriously unwearable shortly. She struggled into her outfit, and then opened her door a crack, peeking out. She still felt like she was imposing, and there was no way in hell she wanted to run into Wesley first thing in the morning, but as she stood still and listened, the hotel appeared to be all quiet. She quietly left her room and made her way downstairs to look for some coffee.

She hit the lobby and made it as far as the hotel counter when a voice came out from behind her. "Hey."

Faith shut her eyes and resisted the impulse to jump. Good thing she had Slayer reflexes, or whatever, otherwise she would look like a total idiot. She turned around to face Angel. "Hey yourself."

"Morning," he replied. He stood for a moment, staring at her, then awkwardly folded his arms. "You stayed."

Faith spread her hands, palms up in a questioning manner. "You said I could, right?" She asked defensively. "What? Wes make you change your mind last night or somethin'?"

"No, no," Angel said, hastily, but Faith felt pretty certain she saw a quick flash of guilt in his eyes. "Just wasn't sure. About you, I mean."

"Where else am I gonna go?" she asked. "Can't leave the state, and I got a paycheck comin' to me here." She smiled slyly. "Speaking of which, we didn't get a chance to discuss rates..."

"Heh, yeah," Angel said, smirking at her. "Take it up with the boss. Might wanna get some coffee first."

"And the kitchen would be...?" Faith waved her arm around vaguely.

"That way," Angel said, pointing helpfully, "but the coffee would be over there on the counter."

Faith walked around the corner of what looked like a reception desk. "Ah. Should've known." She poured herself a cup and hopped up on the counter, blowing on the steaming mug. "So, what's on the evil fighting agenda today?"

Angel glanced over at a closed door, then came to stand on the other side of her. "I think paperwork. Wes's been trying to figure out how to actually make this legal. Or at least fake it convincingly."

"Shouldn't be too hard, should it?" Faith asked, kicking her legs idly. "I mean, you're an official business, right? And you can't get more community service than helping the helpless."

Angel coughed. "We're a little... fuzzy, legally speaking."

"What? No tax ID number?" Faith smirked, and then took a sip from her mug. "Ahhhhh," she sighed. "Now that's good. Actually tastes like coffee."

"Would I have any less?" Angel asked. "And Wes knows all the details, but let's just say it's not easy having a business when the guy who started it is dead. 'course on the plus side according to my fake ID I'm only 25."

"Really?" Faith pulled a face and then quickly tried to hide it. "I mean sure, you can pass for 25."

Angel folded his arms and glared at her. "You know I was killed at 25."

"And you haven't aged a day," Faith said, raising her eyebrows and trying not to smile.

"Don't you forget it," Angel said. He dropped his hands then nodded towards the door. "Ready for the lion's den?"

Faith's eyes widened. "Is everyone in there waiting to throw things at me or something?" She hopped off the counter, and hoped she didn't look as scared as she felt. "Cause if this really is a big problem, I can go find an insulating job."

Angel shook his head. "Nah. It's just... " Angel looked as though he was going to say something, then changed his mind. "You know you and Wes. Kind of an oil and water situation. Plus the oil's on fire."

"Pam's got oil in it?" Faith asked, surprised. "'Cause here I thought it was a fat free thing."

Angel looked at her for a long moment. "Okay," he finally said, "I know those words, but not in that order."

Faith frowned, and rearranged her last sentence in her head. "Free fat thing thought it here 'cause? That help?" she asked, confused.

"Not really," Angel admitted.

"Um, maybe we should just go into the other room," Faith suggested, figuring it was better not to remind Angel of the details of Wesley-tortures past if he'd either forgotten or didn't know them. "Otherwise I think we'll be here all day making no sense."

"Probably," Angel said. He motioned for her to lead the way.

"Great," Faith mumbled under her breath, and headed for the door Angel had indicated. Why she had thought this would be easy, she had no idea. Not like it ever was. She took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob.

Inside she found an office that looked pretty much like Watcher central. Wes was behind a desk, talking with some guy Faith had never met before but from the looks of things was probably the other guy Angel had told her about. Gunn.

"I still say we can take it," he was saying.

Wes shook his head. "I'd like to look into it further." He looked up, and Faith didn't need super Slayer senses to tell that he had a more welcoming look for Angel than he did for her. "Angel, Faith. Come in. Charles and I were just discussing the Himes case."

"That's the one in the Valley, right?" Angel said.

"Correct," Wesley told him.

Faith shoved her hands deep into her pockets and forced her feet to stop their nervous shuffling. "What's the deal?" She asked as nonchalantly as possible. "Demon? Vampires? Other?"

"Demon," Wesley said. He then turned back to Angel. "I've told Charles to bring the team out there. Do reconnaissance. We'll form a plan of action from there."

Angel stepped forward, "I could - "

"No," Wes said, cutting Angel off with a look.

Charles turned to her, giving a nod of greeting. "So you're Faith. I'm Gunn."

Faith nodded her head briefly in his direction. "Hey."

Beside her, Angel looked ready to protest whatever the heck he and Wes were talking about, but then let it drop. "Okay. I'll stay here."

"You can baby-sit," Wes replied. He reached into his desk and brought out a clipboard with a stack of paper on it. He handed it over to Faith. "Fill that out. Be sure to sign your name everywhere it asks."

Faith took it from him and eyed the stack of papers skeptically. "Okay," she said, and then her head shot up. "Baby-sit? What, don't I get to fight the big nasties?"

"You will," Wes told her. "But not yet. You've been out of the loop for too long. I want you honing your skills before we try to rely on you."

"I was just in prison," Faith protested. "What better place to hone your fighting skills?" God, she really wanted to go out and hit something. This standing around freaked out and nervous was making her palms itch.

"Met a lot of vampires there, did you?" Wes asked, and boy had his snooty tone of voice not changed at all over the years.

Faith rolled her eyes. "No... but there were plenty of big burly women who wanted a piece of this," she countered, indicating her body. A sly smile curved her lips. "Not that I could blame them."

"Much as I appreciate this free subscription to Cinemax," Wesley said, "I don't care. They were humans. I need you able to fight demons and vampires. Angel will assist."

"Fine," Faith huffed. At least she would get to spend more time with just Angel. And less time with whining Wesley. That was a plus. "Which way to the punching bag?"

"Downstairs," Angel said.

"Just a moment," Wes held up a hand to stop them. "Faith, that's not the only thing that's required of you. You'll also have to put in 20 hours a week at the shelter with Gunn's friends. It's the only way we can keep this legal."

"Shelter?" she asked, a confused look passing over her features. "What shelter? Like ladling out bowls of soup or something?"

"More like keeping the kids in line," Gunn said. "Though a little grunt work comes with the deal."

Faith barked a short laugh. "Just one day out of the hoosegow, and I'm being assigned daycare duty. Perfect."

"If the arrangement doesn't suite your taste there's always an alternative," Wes said, looking as though he certainly wouldn't mind if she picked door #2. "You could go back in."

"Thanks but no," Faith answered. "I'll keep an eye on the juvies or whatever."

Wes nodded, curtly. "You can arrange your schedule with Gunn."

"That it?" Angel asked. He gestured towards the door. "'cause I could get started with Faith if you want."

Again Wes couldn't even be bothered to look up from whatever the hell was so important on his desk. "That'll be fine. Thank you."

"We should go," Angel said, leading the way out the door.

Faith followed him towards the door, glad to be getting out of that room. "Have fun storming the Valley," she tossed over her shoulder as she exited and shut the door behind her.

Charles looked at the door after it had closed. "That her, huh?"

"That her," Wesley parroted. He kept his hand busy writing notes in his ledger, abstractly amazed that after two years he could still feel the ghostly numbness in his arm that had taken him a month and a half of physical therapy to get over. He found himself repeating the exercises by rote - tensing his fingers around his pen, then releasing. Tension, then release, tension -

"Hey," Gunn said, waving his own hand to capture his attention. "Earth to English."

"Sorry," Wesley said. He put the pen down, sitting back in his chair. "I've a lot on my mind."

"No, really?" Charles said, feigning shock. "'cause between Cordy going AWOL, your boyfriend going Sybil 2: Electric Vamparoo and now - "

"My boyfriend going what?"

" - a badass ex-Slayer stomping around your crib," Gunn continued, ignoring him, "I'd say we got ourselves plenty to deal with."

In spite of the funk that was threatening to overwhelm him, Wesley found himself giving the tiniest smile. "'We'?"

"You ain't the only one around here who's tired of people running off all the time," Gunn replied, grinning at him in return. "Plus I'm sick of having to do your lame-ass paperwork. Leave me the muscle jobs. You get more chicks that way."

"You can have them," Wesley told him.

Gunn nodded, acknowledging that. "Anyway, way I see it you still my boy. Mess with my boy, you mess with me."

"Thank you," Wesley said, actually feeling a small measure of comfort from that.

"'course what I don't get," Charles added, "is why your boy isn't stepping up to the plate too."

"Angel has a lot to deal with," Wesley told him.

"Angel damn near killed somebody at a club for asking you what's your sign," Gunn retorted. "And way you tell it, only thing he brought back from this trip y'all took was a T-shirt saying I Got It On With My Bad Self And All I Got Was This Lousy blah blah. I'm not seeing how that equals him being the happy tour guide to the girl you tell me almost took your life."

"They have a history," Wesley said. He laid his hands flat against his blotter, once again flexing and relaxing the muscles. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the binding around his wrists and ankles, and the strain in his jaw from the gag that had nearly choked him. "Angel - "

"Angel's got himself a man now," Gunn said, tapping his own hand against Wesley's desk for emphasis. "And it's always true but with you two it's more than that - bros before hos. Ain't no girl - "

"She isn't a mere girl," Wesley said. "She is a Slayer. And a murderer. She can't be allowed to remain unsupervised."

"I'm loving what I hear more and more," Gunn replied. "We supposed to trust someone who's offed humans now?"

"That's immaterial," Wesley said, meeting Gunn's eyes at last with his own steady gaze. "My concern is with Angel. If he feels that Faith can be of help to him now then that is all that matters."

Gunn shook his head, accepting it but clearly not liking it. "It ain't right."

"What's right has absolutely nothing to do with it," Wesley told him. He turned back to his work, not wanting to discuss it further.

"Need more coffee?" Angel asked.

"Nah," Faith said. "I'm antsy enough as it is. Can I hit things now?"

"Punching bag's downstairs," Angel said. He crossed the lobby then opened another door with a staircase behind it. He gave her a slight grin. "Plus there's weapons."

"Ooooh, you really know the way to a girl's heart, don't you?" she drawled as she started down the stairs.

"Yup," Angel said, turning on lights as he went. "Straight through her ribcage. Or her throat if you don't mind using a curved sword and you get the angle just right."

Faith laughed. Bet he couldn't say things like that to little Miss Tightass Buffy without getting a pout. Or his ass kicked. "You always did have style," she murmured. "So, do I have to use the punching bag, or are you up for a little sparring?" She danced around a bit, punching the air. "Cause a moving target's much more interesting."

"Um," Angel looked around, then stepped back when he saw he was between the bag and her. "Maybe start off with the bag." He gave her another grin. "Don't wanna get my ass kicked this early in the morning. It's embarrassing."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Boring," she droned, but dutifully stepped up to the bag nonetheless. "What, you don't trust me either?" she asked, trying to keep the edge of worry out of her voice.

"I do trust you," Angel said, going over to sit down in a chair. "I've just come up against Slayers before. Gotta say I'm not real eager to get kicked in that place you guys apparently like to aim for. Especially not now when Wes is appreciating it so much."

Faith gave a throaty chuckle, and stepped up to the bag. "Gotta say," she said, as she let loose with a hefty punch. "Never thought ol' Wes would step up to the plate on that one." She swung her left arm out and caught the bag on its backswing. "Always pictured him as more of a tightass, if ya know what I mean."

Angel's mouth curled in a half-smirk. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well," Faith said, cocking her head and grunting as she let her right hook fly. "I could see how it would be a good thing for you. When did all that go down anyway?"

"Last spring," Angel told her. He sat forward in his chair, watching her work. "Got my head out of my ass and took a chance with him. Worked out."

"Now that your ass is all clear, I can see how it would," Faith joked.

Angel chuckled. "Actually that one... even you probably don't wanna know about."

Faith raised an eyebrow, not stopping her pummeling motions. "Could be. But then again, I've been cooped up a long time with no fun at all."

"I've got stories," Angel said, teasing her as much as he was inviting her to ask about them. "Wes is more fun than you know. Or - do you know? How did you know?"

"Dude," Faith drawled. "You've so always had a thing for him. After you stopped mooning over Buffy anyway." She stopped the assault on the bag and held her arms out to catch it. "Why do you think I chose him?" She asked softly.

Angel nodded, as though confirming something. "I figured that was why." He gave her another grin, this one more sheepish than the last. "Just wasn't too clear on how. Hell, I wasn't even sure about it yet. 'course some people tell me I'm just slow."

"You?" Faith gasped, hand held over her heart as if she was going to collapse in a fit of vapors. "Never!"

Angel cheerfully flipped her off.

Faith grinned, glad that they could get past her previous torture escapades with nary a speedbump. Granted, it wouldn't be so easy with Wes, but you took what you could get. "Okay, big boy, I'm way tired of this bag punching thing. I've learned all of its Kung Fu. Can we move on to some advanced training?"

"Sure," Angel said. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Swords are over there. Help yourself. Bottom one was Cordy's. Guess you can feel free to keep it now."

"You're giving me the girly sword?" Faith complained as she headed for the rack. "Cause this girl's got way past her training wheels."

"It's a katana!" Angel said, peevishly. "I used to use it. I don't use girly weapons."

"Sure sure," Faith mumbled, and hefted the sword, before spinning it around a couple of times in her hand. "Nice weight, balance, I could get used to this." She spun it once more, and held it out, point facing Angel. "So, what can I carve up around here?"

He pointed her towards a training dummy. "Try him."

"Threatening," Faith murmured, and headed for the figure. "Wonder if he's got any tricks up his lack of sleeves," she mused, as she circled it, and then lightening fast, spun and slashed her sword across it's middle. "Hmm, he seems a bit... slow."

"You could pretend it's me."

"Why don't we skip the use imagination section of this exercise, you pick up a sword, and we have a nice hard sweaty fencing fiesta?"

"Told you," Angel said, "You'd kick my ass. Plus I do most of my sweaty fiestas with Wes these days."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got the point, loverboy. But why all wussy about the sparring? You used to do it all the time, with Buffy anyway."

Angel looked at her curiously. "Is this a jealousy thing? Faith, we are friends, okay? I wouldn't go head to head with Wes over just anybody. Especially these days."

"It's not," Faith answered. And she was almost sure she wasn't lying. "But thanks." She paused a moment, and looked at the tip of her sword before continuing. "Thing is, I've had a lot of downtime lately. And downtime equals pent up energy." She twirled the sword once more. "And with me bein' a Slayer and all, the best way to get rid of it is with a good old fashioned brawl. Not so helpful when your target's made up of wood or something."

"We could go demon hunting," Angel suggested.

"Can we?" Faith asked excitedly. "Or are you gonna get the verbal beat down for bad babysitting?"

"I'll take my chances," Angel said, getting up out of his chair. "Besides, he said I should get you back in the swing of things. Most demons and vamps out there aren't on the 'try not to kill' list like I am."

"Oh good," Faith said. "Glad to know the rules haven't completely changed while I've been cooped up."

"Nope, we still kill 'em," Angel said, then paused, "Most. Not all. We've got some friends."

Faith put a hand on her hip. "Do I get a list or something? Some mug shots that I can peruse through?"

"I'll take you out for a beer some night and introduce you," he told her. He knelt down, lifted a ring from the floor, then yanked open a metal door. It creaked open then swung 180 degrees down to the floor again with a loud clatter. "Um - must've been oiled since we were gone."

"Oh boy, the sewers," Faith mumbled, mouth curling up in a grimace. "Hey, you think we can possibly come up into a mall somewhere? I have a feeling this trip may ruin my one outfit."

"We can do that," Angel said, "if you don't mind the walk and leaving the sword behind. Guess prison didn't let you do a lot of shopping?"

"Good guess," Faith deadpanned. "They didn't even let me keep my jumpsuit. And what a lovely shade of bluish it was too."

"Got money on you?" Angel asked.

"If you're comin' with, then yeah." Faith answered, and then looked at him sheepishly.

Angel just laughed. "Okay, these would be the things we don't say in Wes's hearing."

"Hey, I'll get ya back," Faith said defensively. "As soon as I get a paycheck. Or two."

Angel lead the way downstairs. "You really on the path to the straight and narrow?"

Faith shrugged, leaving the katana by the doorway. "Dunno if you'd call it straight and narrow," she said. "But definitely less of a downslope."

"That's good," Angel said, but seemed troubled by it.

"Hey, didn't mean to scare you," Faith said placatingly. "No worries, I'm off the murder and torture track."

"What?" Angel blinked, coming out of wherever his thoughts had gone. "Oh. No. Wasn't worried about that. I'm sure you can do it."

Faith stared at him. "Somehow that doesn't sound encouraging."

"Go you?" Angel tried, lamely.

"Well, I feel a lot better, thanks."

"Sorry," Angel said, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. "Didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Faith shrugged again. "Hey, happens to the best of us. I myself had the best night of sleep I've had in years."

"Even before prison?" Angel asked.

"Way before prison," Faith clarified. "Always on the run from something, you know?"

"That one sounds familiar," Angel said. "So, you planning on standing still?"

"I'm hoping," Faith smirked. "But it's not always my choice."

"You've got a home here," Angel said. "If you want it."

Faith ducked her head, and hid behind her hair, unsure of how to take all of this caring and sharing. "Thanks," she said quietly, and then resumed her mocking smile. Vulnerable, still not my thing, she thought. "Just make sure the missus agrees with you on that before I start picking out my sheets."

"You know not calling him a girl is gonna go far with helping you on that," Angel pointed out.

"Hey, he can't hear me," Faith teased.

"I can."

Faith held up her hands in surrender. "I can call you the missus if you want. Makes no never mind to me."

"It'd be a start," Angel said. He relaxed by about a hair. "Just lay off him, okay? He's had enough to deal with."

"Hey look, it's all in good fun," Faith shot back, confused by his intensity.

For a moment, Angel looked just as confused as she must have. Then the emotion was hidden behind his usual stoic mask. "Never mind. We should get going. Mall'll be open soon."

Faith frowned, trying to take all of whatever this was in. Then she shrugged it off. If he wanted to tell her, he would. No use in pushing. "Okay then," she said. "Let's go on a spree."

"And then," Angel said, leaning against a rack of shirts, "as though the whole thing wasn't bad enough, I had to deal with all of that crap right in the middle of Watcher territory. Which I guess is a lesson in karma considering that I probably should've just gone to Sunnydale to talk to Buffy in the first place."

"Nasty," Faith murmured as she flipped through a rack of pants. "So, she took it badly, huh?"

Angel grimaced. "I talked her down from trying to kill me pretty quick. That count for something?"

"Yeah," Faith answered. "Since you did a better job than I did when she came after me with a knife and a vengeance."

"Don't think she's going to be doing that anytime soon," Angel said. "Or - not for that reason anyway. People who mess with me aren't so high on her list of enemies these days. Actually I think lately they come right under people who forget and give her regular coffee when she asked for decaf."

The corner of Faith's mouth quirked up in a smile, but she tried to hide it with her hair as she bent over the clothing rack. "Not on good terms with the soulmate, eh? She too vanilla to deal with the whole new you?"

"Actually she doesn't even know about the whole new me," Angel said. He moved out of the way of a passing shopper. "The Wes thing was pretty much all it took. Well - that and me telling her that if she wanted to fuck Spike she might as well go fuck... um, you probably get the idea."

"Ah," Faith nodded. "Heard a little about the Spike thing. Figured out the rest for myself. Well, what can you do?" She shrugged and held up 2 pairs of pants. "Denim or pleather?"

Angel looked back and forth between the both of them, unable to decide. "Um - you don't have anything. Why choose?"

"Oooh, I've got a sugardaddy!" Faith drawled, and began to pick up more items. "Can we go to Victoria's Secret too? I've always wanted some of those high class panties."

"Gonna model them for me too?" Angel found himself asking before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"Of course," Faith said innocently. "How else will I know if they look good or not?"

Angel was completely unable to tell if she was serious. Not trusting himself to talk more than he had to, he said: "Okay?"

Faith nodded and continued collecting articles of clothing, then turned to Angel. "Think this is enough? I'm not used to the more than a couple of basic black items look."

"Red's nice," Angel ventured.

"Yessss...." Faith said slowly. "Red is nice. Any other stellar fashion tips?"

"Underwear's usually better on the inside?"

"Okay, guess I was asking too much from the guy who has no reflection."

Angel opened his mouth to correct her, then immediately thought better of it. "Been a while since I've had to go shopping for girls."

Faith frowned. "When did you ever have to go shopping for girls?"

"Got things for Darla and Dru," he pointed out. "And Cordy, 'bout a year ago."

"Interesting," Faith said, looking puzzled. "Maybe you missed your calling as a personal shopper. I hear they make oodles of cash."

Angel looked at the sea of clothing that surrounded them, having no idea what he liked amongst it all. "Think I'll stick with the hitting things. More fun."

"Agreed," Faith grinned. "Well, we should get moving if we're gonna go demon hunting in my new togs."

"Need anything else from here?" Angel asked.

"Nope," Faith smiled. "All good. Wouldn't want to abuse your gold card power all in one spot."

"It's cash," Angel reassured her. He spotted a checkout counter and headed towards it. "Wes has the credit cards. And - you know I thought you'd be stealing all this."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Not really doin' a great job on that straight and narrow coaching there sport." She shrugged. "Besides, why steal when you have the cash?"

"Right," Angel said, automatically. He found himself staring at the floor, watching the blur of reflected fluorescent lights on the linoleum walkway. "Stealing is bad and I don't encourage you to do that."

"Sound a little more convincing why don't you," Faith drawled as she walked up to the check out counter and piled her clothes in front of a salesgirl.

"Sorry," he replied. He thought back to the last time he'd done this with Faith. How easy the words had been for him to say. How he'd felt so confident that he alone could guide her.

Now he felt...

Hell, now he didn't know what he felt.

"Hey, no big," Faith shrugged. Then she cocked her head and eyed him warily. "You ok? I mean you seem... broodier than usual."

"Been a rough few months," Angel told her. He felt emotions rising within him as though this tiny admission had been enough to let loose a floodgate. He tried to clamp down on it, telling himself to get better control.

"Worse than usual?" Faith asked, a small smile curving her lips.

"Yeah," he admitted, before he could stop himself.

"Wanna give me an idea, or are we goin' for the 20 questions thing here?" Faith asked wryly.

"Half of me is animal, I'm not sure if I shouldn't still be a vegetable and..." Angel trailed off, then shrugged, "and I got nothing for mineral, sorry."

"When were you ever a vegetable?" she asked, scrunching up her brows in thought.

"The passing out thing," Angel said. He managed to pull out his wallet and handed it over to Faith. "Before the new me."

"Oh," Faith said, still looking confused. "Look, if you don't want to talk about this, I'm down. Not really Miss Share-and-Care myself."

"No, I do," he said then, just as easily, "or I don't. I don't know."

"Very clear," Faith nodded her head as she took her purchases and gave him back his wallet. "I'm just gonna go look at some panties and if you wanna chat, feel free."

Angel sighed, following her. "I don't know what to chat about. That's the problem."

"Hmmm," Faith considered for a moment. "You know, I'm not too sure, but maybe you can start with what's bothering you. Though I'm no expert on this."

"Okay," Angel said, "what's bothering me is I don't know what's bothering me."

"Gotcha," Faith said, giving him a look of sympathy. "And been there. So I guess we can go back to 20 questions. Did you run out of hairgel this morning?"

"No," Angel said, "and that's not it. I - Faith, what do you like?"

Faith looked at him, startled. "What do I like? I dunno. Slaying, my freedom, a good tight pair of pants?"

Angel briefly wondered if she meant on her or on someone else, but aborted the question for more pressing things. "See? That's my point. You know."

"You don't know what you like?" Faith asked. "Nothing? Not even Wesley?"

"No, that one I do know," Angel said. "Actually right now it's about the only thing I know. Which isn't right either."

"So, you're going through a mid-life crisis or something, happens to everyone." Faith shrugged. "Don't beat yourself up about it. I think you're thinking too much, and that's never good."

"Okay, first off if I die in 250 years I'm going to be really annoyed," Angel said, "or possibly grateful depending on how good my year's going. Second, how do I not think about this? I went from being this - this great guy to I don't even know what the fuck I am. And considering what and who I decided to meld with to do it I don't think this is a time to lay off the vigilance."

"But you made the choice to meld" Faith pointed out. "It's not like you're going around murdering people again, right? I mean, it's who you are and all, if you get right down to the nitty gritty."

"But who am I?" he asked, unable to keep a note of desperation out of his voice. "Faith - I got dressed today and I don't even know if I like the clothes I put on. I had coffee and I don't know if I liked it with milk or not. What the Hell am I supposed to do?"

"What everyone else does," Faith snapped. "Figure it out. Hey, how do you think I feel? I'm outta jail, supposed to be the new improved whiter than white me, but am I really?"

Angel felt a measure of tension leave him. "So you don't know either?"

"Of course not!" Faith looked at him as if he'd grown an extra two heads. "What? You think I always know what I'm doing? I mean, thanks for the vote of confidence, but no clue really."

"Do you still - " Angel stopped, wondering if he even wanted the answer to this question - or, if he did, what answer he was hoping for " - do you still think about killing people? Wanting to?"

"I dunno," Faith shrugged. "No one's really given me the urge lately. But I guess when that happens, I'll find out who I really am, huh?"

Angel thought about Wes. "Yeah. Guess so. And... same here. Except I know. That I want to."

"But you're not," Faith reassured him. "And I think that's what's important. I mean who hasn't thought about killing someone? The only difference between them and us is that they don't act on it."

"But I might," Angel said. He glanced over to meet Faith's eyes. "What if I did? That gonna be a deal-breaker between us?"

Faith considered for a bit. "Ok, not that I'm saying it's right, but I think I would understand."

"Not saying I'm planning on it," Angel said. "Just... willpower's not the greatest talent of mine right now. Somebody gets in my way, hurts someone I love... probably a good idea not to get between me and them."

"Fair enough," Faith said. "Hey, how about this? You look out for me, and I look out for you. Kinda like AA but with the dark side instead of tequila."

Angel found himself smiling at that. "I think I could handle that. Especially since this way there's still alcohol. And cigarettes." Angel frowned, then mimed holding a pack. "Do you...?"

"Hell yeah!" Faith said. "I mean, not much else to do on the inside, you know?"

"Actually no since I've never been," Angel teased her, "but good to know. We could pick up some on the way home if you want. Um - after my obligatory comment about your lungs. But you're a Slayer. Is that even an issue?"

"Not really worrying about it," Faith said. "Since considering my expiration date, my mid-life crisis shoulda come around age 12."

"I'll see what I can do about extending that," Angel said, and found that he honestly meant it.

Faith smiled at him. "Likewise, I'm sure," she said, dipping her head so her hair covered her face.

"Huh, vampire helping out a Slayer," Angel drawled. "Never tried that before."

"I've certainly never heard of it," Faith shot back. Then she stopped short in her tracks. "Now that I'm out does this mean I need a Watcher again? 'cause that didn't go so well last time."

"Considering Wes's relationship with the Council right now," Angel said, "I'm pretty sure no."

Faith let out a sigh of relief. "Oh good. 'cause me and the book learnin'? Not friends."

"Don't think Wes would let you touch his stash anyway," Angel admitted.

"Well, good thing we're all in agreement then," Faith said, and then looked around a bit. "Hey, they still got Orange Juliuses?"

Angel thought long and hard about this. Finally he tried: "In... books?"

Faith raised her eyebrows. "You know, I don't remember you being this confusing," she said. "Those orangey frozen thingies? You drink them?"

Angel just stared at her for a good long while, figuring her memory was bound to kick in at some point.

Faith stared back, waiting for him to say something. "What?"

Angel smirked, then held out his hand to shake. "Hi, I'm Angel. I'm what you people like to call a vampire. That means I enjoy torture, kinky sex, the blood of the living and anything that's not frozen and made out of oranges."

Faith smiled. "It's not like you don't have eyes though, sheesh. I guess I'll just have to look around the food court myself."

"You can use your special Slayer senses," he teased. "Maybe if you're lucky you can even stake yourself a hamburger."

Faith snorted. "I'd much rather use my superpowers to get in some good demon slaying," she said, punching Angel lightly on the arm. Lightly for a Slayer anyway. "It's been a while, you know."

"When we're done here," he promised her. "We'll stash your clothes somewhere and I'll take you out demon hunting. Even let you get all the good kicks in."

Faith grinned. "Well, let's step it up then. I'm still feelin' antsy, and since you're Mr. No-Spar...."

"Hey," Angel said, holding his hands up innocently, "I said I was Mr. No-Kill. There's a difference."

"You were also all 'No, no don't hit me, I'm a big girly man this morning'," Faith pointed out jokingly. "But I can't hold it against you if you're scared of me. I mean, I am pretty hot shit when it comes to a fight."

"You are at that," Angel agreed. He slipped his hands into his pockets and thought about all Faith had said - especially her hesitation at the thought of him truly acting evil again.

He knew for certain that he'd made the right decision. No matter what had happened at the trial, no matter how much he'd "melded" he still had to keep a tight hold of his dark side. The thought of going full-on Angelus was too much to chance.

He balled his hands into fists, resolving to not give in to temptation no matter how much it tried to sway him.

Hiding all of this behind a false, joking smile, he again looked at Faith.

"Hey," he said, knowing that she'd still think they were on the idea of her beating him in a fight, "can't blame me for knowing my weaknesses, right?"

"Guess not," Faith shrugged, and stopped in front of the Victoria's Secret window, peering at the lingerie display. She smiled wickedly. "How 'bout we go in and find something really fun for me to wander around the hotel in in the mornings, huh?"

"Well okay," Angel said, giving himself just enough leeway to grin at her. "But if anybody in there asks I think we should tell 'em I'm your brother. Just to see the look on their face."

Faith grinned back. "Agreed."

Fin.