*****

"I don't get it," Wesley said, regarding the sugary disk in his hand.

"What's to get?" Faith asked, reaching for one herself.

"Well, they're terribly overrated, aren't they?" Wesley replied.

"Are you crazy?" Faith asked rhetorically. "Krispy Kremes are the best!" She took a bite and "mmm"ed to prove her point.

But Wesley wasn't convinced. "But they're," he gave a little shrug. "Just doughnuts. What's all the fuss about?"

"They have a thicker glaze," Riley pointed out as he picked up his third Krispy Kreme. "And they're more compact." He popped the entire thing into his mouth to demonstrate. Wesley brow furrowed, failing to see the benefit of this last point. "They're all around superior to other doughnuts," Riley said between chews. "You're just a pastry philistine, Wes."

Wesley looked again at the glazed ring he was holding. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"More for the rest of us," Faith noted, plucking it from his hand.

From his seat in the corner, Angel observed that while his new staff often bickered amongst themselves, at least Faith and Riley got along. Most of the time. Maybe it was because of their working dynamic. When he had reopened Angel Investigations, it hadn't taken long for Faith to get bored. She hadn't liked sitting around waiting for things to come to them. So she'd declared she was going to patrol nightly, and would be on-call as back up. Riley had jumped at the chance to join her, and while she'd been resistant to the idea at first, the two of them had become a sort of team.

~At least they're only on doughnuts today,~ Angel thought. ~That shouldn't be too dangerous.~

"I, for one, am staying out of it," Cordelia announced. "I never touch the stuff."

"I don't recall anyone asking your opinion," Wesley said under his breath. He tried to be tolerant, he really did; but sometimes Cordelia's insistence on having a comment about everything got on his last nerve. Especially when the comment was that she had no comment.

Faith was more vocal in her response to Cordelia. "Yeah, you gotta slimfast a little if you really want to make it in this town."

~I spoke too soon,~ Angel sighed inwardly.

Cordelia looked down at herself, open-mouthed. "I am *not* fat!" she said indignantly.

"Yes, that's uncalled for, Faith," Wesley said. "It's not Cordelia's looks that are keeping her from getting jobs."

Cordelia wheeled on him. "What does *that* mean?"

"Means you're no Gwyneth Paltrow," Faith snickered.

"Even Gwyneth Paltrow is no Gwyneth Paltrow," Wesley said, thinking the blonde actress and the doughnuts had something in common. He shook his head slightly at his own sentence. "Rather, she's no Judi Dench."

"Definitely not!" Faith agreed. "She's not even Jennifer Love Hewitt."

On his fifth doughnut now, Riley had lost the thread of conversation. "Gwyneth Paltrow's no Jennifer Love Hewitt?"

"No, she's saying Cordelia isn't," Wesley told him.

Cordelia cocked her head and glared at him. "What are *you* saying, Wesley?"

"I'm not saying anything!" Wesley tried to explain, "It was Faith - she said you were no Gwyneth Paltrow, and I thought that was a poor analogy, if you're looking for someone with true talent."

Faith leaned in confidentially. "He's saying you don't have it."

"So you think I have no talent?" Cordelia demanded of Wesley.

"Stop putting words in my mouth, Faith," Wesley admonished, hoping to not have to answer Cordelia's question.

"Don't tell me what to do," Faith said, falling back on her most common retort to Wesley: "You're not the Watcher of me!"

"Technically," Wesley countered quietly, "I am." As he knew she would, Faith flipped him off upon being reminded she'd been released into his custody.

"Whatever you are," she said coldly, "you're not my 'Watcher.'"

~You would think she'd be a little bit grateful,~ Wesley thought. ~Or at least not quite so fractious.~ He and Cordelia had gone through a lot of trouble, speaking on Faith's behalf at her parole hearing. True, they'd needed her when Gunn returned to his own gang after Angel had... left them on their own. She'd been a necessary evil then, but now she often seemed to be more trouble than she was worth. Why, Wesley himself had been instrumental in procuring her release. But instead of easing the strain between the two of them, it had only seemed to create tension amongst all of them.

Like Cordelia, hands on hips, pointlessly having a go at him now: "Don't think you can get out of this by changing the subject, Mr.," she paused, stuck for a satisfying insult: "Ass-Pansy!"

In the face of such wit, Wesley fought the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to Angel in an appeal for help. But before he could say anything, Angel got up and reached for his coat.

"Where are you going?"

"I thought I'd go for a walk," Angel replied.

"But," Wesley glanced at the window, "it's broad daylight."

"Yes, I know." Coat still in hand, Angel exited the room.

They all stopped to watch him go, then turned as one to Riley.

"Oh," Riley said with a start, noticing the attention. "I'll go talk to him."

Riley left, but instead of going to Angel's room - where he was sure the vampire had retreated - he went to the kitchen. He knew Angel hadn't eaten yet today, so he took a bag of blood out of the refrigerator, emptied the contents into a mug, and heated it to human body temperature. Then he stuck a straw in it and took the mug upstairs.

"It's just me," he said, knocking as he entered. He could see the tension in Angel's shoulders from across the room. He went over and, handing Angel the mug wordlessly, sat behind him and began to massage his neck, working out the knotted muscles.

Sipping from the mug, Angel began to relax under Riley's strong, skilful hands. Once again, as so often throughout the day, he was grateful for Riley. For his ability to understand, to know what Angel needed, to not press him.

"Some days," he said at last, "they make me wish I'd never reopened the agency."

"You don't mean that," Riley said, his hands moving down, kneading Angel's shoulders. "Besides, they weren't so bad today," he added. "And we're going to Vegas tonight!" Angel turned to him and, catching his expression, Riley sighed. "We're not going to Vegas, are we?" he said, resigned.

"There's still the job," Angel replied ambiguously. He was faced with a decision now: He wanted to go with Riley, but logically he should leave Riley here, in charge. He had every confidence in Riley's abilities, and it would be good experience. Angel could take someone else, since Vegas was really only a two-person job, leaving the other two with Riley to bond. Yes, that was what he *should* do. But he wanted to go with Riley....

+++

A short time later, Angel and Riley returned to the office. The others turned at their entrance, and Angel took advantage of their attention.

"I've been planning to take Riley on this Vegas job," he began without preamble, "and leave the rest of you in charge of our Los Angeles office. But I've had to change my plans as you've collectively proven you can't handle yourselves." He held up a hand to quell the cries of protest, and they settled down unhappily. "Therefore, I'm taking Faith."

"You're taking Faith instead of Riley?" Wesley asked.

"I'm taking Faith as well as Riley," Angel clarified.

Faith grinned, thinking, ~Oh, yes please!~

"Why does Faith get to go?" Cordelia wanted to know.

"Because you and Wesley can be trusted not to kill each other," Angel said humorlessly. Riley smiled anyhow.

"But that-" Cordelia stopped herself. Angel hated it when you complained that something wasn't fair. Even if it wasn't. "So Faith is being rewarded for being a bitch," Cordelia observed. "Then why does Riley get to go?"

"Well, that's obvious, isn't it?" Faith said.

Angel shot her a warning look. "Because he isn't annoying anyone."

Faith returned his look innocently. "Just what I was going to say."

While Faith went to pack, Angel asked Cordelia to make some new arrangements, most importantly getting a room and plane ticket for Faith. Cordy chafed, but put everything on her "to do" list.

As she watched Wesley drive them off to the airport that night, Cordelia muttered a parting shot: "Great! Take the brawn and leave the brains: see how far you get!"

+++

Crossword puzzles were stupid. But somehow Faith always ended up doing them on planes.

She'd offered to take the middle seat since she didn't need as much room for her legs, but Riley had declined. So here she was on the aisle, doing an in-flight crossword.

It was maybe twenty minutes into the short flight when she felt Riley shift in his seat. Furtively, she glanced over at them: their knees were touching. Riley's eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. Angel was reading - or pretending to - casually brushing Riley's arm before taking his hand, his middle finger stroking the palm. Riley's other hand was carefully in his lap. Faith bit back a smile as she filled in another word.

+++

It was after midnight when they arrived at the Bellagio Hotel. Angel went to the check-in desk, Riley behind him, Faith to the side leaning on the counter.

"I'm sorry, sir, we have no reservation under that name."

Angel tried several other aliases, with the same non-result. They tried Riley's name and, without much hope, Faith's. Then Angel remembered that Cordelia had phoned him with a confirmation number on their way to the airport. He dug around in his wallet, producing a piece of paper.

"Just a moment," the check-in clerk said, taking the paper and tapping on his keyboard. Then he looked up and handed the paper back. "Yes sir," he explained. "This is a cancellation number.

Faith rocked off the counter. "Cordelia is *dead*!"

"Faith," Angel warned. She continued to glower but kept her thoughts to herself. Angel turned back to the clerk. "We'll take another room then. Two rooms."

"I'm very sorry, sir, but we don't have anything available. There are several major conventions in town this week, not to mention the title bout. The city's all booked up."

"Bitch!" Faith exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the counter. The clerk looked vaguely alarmed. Faith stalked off.

"Riley-" Angel started.

"I'm on it," Riley said, turning to follow her. She stopped by the wall. Riley knew better than to mess with her in this mood. Such aphorisms as "cheer up" and "calm down" had an ill effect on her. So he just stood with her.

They'd been waiting for nearly half an hour and Faith was kicking the wall rhythmically when Angel finally came over to them.

"Any luck?" Riley asked hopefully.

"Some," Angel told them. "We have a room. Not here, and they only had one room so we'll all have to share." Secretly, Faith perked up at that, beginning to forgive Cordelia. They walked out to the taxi stand but it wasn't until he gave the hotel name to the driver that they learned where they were going:

"No *way* am I staying at HoJo's!" Arms folded stubbornly, Faith was adamant, reconsidering her forgiveness of Cordy. She hadn't come to Vegas just to stay in the same crappy places she'd always lived in!

"We don't have much of a choice, Faith," Angel said, holding the door for her. Riley was already seated inside. "It's just for one night; we'll get it sorted out tomorrow. OK? Now, please, get in the cab."

Muttering unintelligibly under her breath, Faith climbed into the back of the cab. She was still pouting as the cab turned off the Strip onto Tropicana - and then she saw the sign on the Howard Johnson's, lit up in letters two feet high: "99 CENT MARGARITAS!" Well, maybe things were looking up.

They checked in and went up to the room - which, they soon discovered, had only one bed. Angel was on the phone immediately, to be told that this was the only available room. The clerk said she'd be happy to provide them with a cot for a minimal additional charge. When Angel relayed the information, he and Riley turned to Faith in anticipation of another freak out. But all she did was shrug and say, "Fine. Whatever. Give me the cot. I'll deal with it for one night."

It was around two-thirty in the morning by the time they got everything sorted out. Even though they were worn out from their travels, they were used to night hours and none of them were ready for sleep just yet. So they headed down to the little casino & bar for a drink. Angel thought they might as well discuss their plans.

"Tomorrow evening we have a meeting with our client," he informed them.

"There's really a job?" Faith asked.

"Yes."

"Oh," Faith said, "well, because we thought you and Riley just wanted some alone-togetherness." When Angel didn't respond, Faith continued, "So, what's the job?"

"Zombies."

Faith and Riley looked at each other and kind of laughed.

"You're kidding, right?" Faith asked. Angel just looked at her. "Zombies in Vegas?" she leaned forward with a grin and tilted her head. "Isn't that, like, some fuckin' Ed Wood movie from the 50s?"

"If our client is to be believed," Angel replied evenly, "it's a reality of the 21st century."

Faith and Riley looked at each other again, and Faith thought it was interesting that Angel apparently hadn't told him what the job was about. "O-kay," she said, turning her attention to her margarita.

+++

Faith was a light sleeper. It only took the slightest sound or movement to alert her. And that's all it was, a hushed moan from one of them, and she was awake. Riley. Had to be. She didn't move, didn't want them to know she was awake. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and let them adjust in the darkness, listening all the while. She took a chance and shifted ever so slightly for a better vantage point.

They didn't appear to be fucking, just making out a little. And, yep, it had been Riley who'd awakened her. From his quickened breathing and the way the covers were moving, she suspected Angel was jerking him off. Angel was completely silent, but Riley couldn't quite control himself - a small sound, a soft sigh or whimper would escape him now and then, which Angel would try to muffle with a kiss. Which would only get Riley going more...

Faith was all turned on, her lips thick with moisture just from watching and listening to them, picturing Angel's hand moving on Riley's cock. Her clit throbbed remembering the way Riley had felt inside her... - but there was nothing she could do for herself now except clench her inner thigh and vaginal muscles, pressing her legs together.

Finally Riley came with a stifled cry. After a still moment, he slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. Faith heard the faucet running. She would just wait for them to fall asleep before helping herself to her own release. With 99 cent margaritas, nickel slots, and free shows nightly, she thought that HoJos might not be so bad after all...

"Go to sleep, Faith," Angel said quietly, out of Riley's hearing. Startled, Faith froze mid-clench so as not to give herself away. Then she smiled and closed her eyes. ~Not bad at all.~

*****
Part 2:

The water pipes in the wall behind his head were singing when Riley awakened, so he knew one of them was in the shower even before he opened his eyes. As he rolled onto his back and propped himself up, Faith finished lacing her boot and greeted him with a "hey" as she straightened and reached for her jacket.

"Hey, Faith," he returned. "You off?"

"Just down to the lobby," she said grinning, "so you and Angel can fuck properly without having to keep quiet." She winked at him, and was out the door before he could respond.

Riley stretched as he got out of bed and, taking the chance that she was really gone, padded over to the bathroom naked. Finding the door unlocked, he knocked to be polite as he entered.

"Riley?" Angel's voice came from the shower stall.

"Yeah, it's me," Riley said, going over to pull the curtain back for a kiss. Angel had told him once that he liked 'morning breath,' that what was slightly sour and stale to Riley was deliciously human to him. So Riley always forewent the nicety of brushing his teeth before the night's first kiss. He rested his hand on Angel's soap-slippery chest as he leaned in, warm water spraying his face, and then one wet hand cupped the back of his neck as Angel's lips found his briefly, tongue nudging between them.

Riley went over to the sink and squeezed some toothpaste onto his brush. "Faith said she was going down to the lobby so we could 'fuck properly,'" he raised his voice between spits. "I think we woke her up last night."

"'We'?" Angel teased, shutting off the water and stepping out.

"Well, me, then," Riley said, blushing as he rinsed out his brush and laid it on the counter. He knew he'd been too loud, but he couldn't control himself the way Angel did. He was embarrassed that Faith might have heard him, known it was him and not Angel moaning like that. As he stepped back, he caught sight of his own abashed expression in the floor-to-ceiling mirror and grinned at himself.

"Then we should take advantage of her generous offer," Angel purred in his ear, damp arms - still warm from the shower - encircling Riley from behind. Riley looked down at Angel's hands clasped about his waist, and then up at the mirror where he saw only himself. It was a strangely arousing experience, his senses of sight and touch at such odds. Riley was transfixed as Angel kissed the back of his neck, licking down the slope to his broad shoulder. And his fascination didn't go unnoticed, for one of Angel's hands slid over Riley's taut belly to grasp his cock. Riley watched, enchanted, as his body responded to a stimulus unseen in the mirror. As his cock stiffened, he started to turn to Angel - but Angel held him firmly place. "Let me be your phantom lover," Angel whispered in his ear, tongue flicking briefly inside, lips pulling softly on the lobe. Riley reached back, but Angel ordered, "No touching. Just watch." Riley leaned back into him, letting Angel's reflectionless body support his weight, breathing deeply as Angel began stroking him slowly.

Looking at himself under the harsh lights as Angel continued to tongue the back of his neck and caress his cock, Riley's eyes couldn't help being drawn to the bite scars tracking up both his arms. He tried rolling his arms inwards, to hide the marks. Angel's free hand took Riley's wrist, lifting it back over his shoulder, lips pressing to the scars there. Riley's fingers rested against Angel's cooling cheek as he relaxed again. A whimper of protest escaped his lips as Angel released his cock, coming around to face Riley - but then the hand was back on him, the slowness of the strokes almost taunting Riley while Angel bent his head to kiss the scars in the crook of Riley's arm, laving the hardened tissue soothingly.

"I can see you now, you know," Riley said with a smile, relaxing under Angel's ministrations.

Angel met his eyes as he knelt. "Then don't look down."

Obediently, Riley focused on the mirror. He had to tilt his head up to minimize what he could still see of Angel in his peripheral vision. A cool, smooth hand was still moving on him as an invisible, wet mouth suckled Riley's fingers one at a time. Tremors of pleasure ripped through Riley as his fingers were released, lips pressed to his hip, gliding along the bone ridge and following the curve of flesh below his taut belly. "Angel, please," Riley moaned in agonized anticipation.

"There is no Angel." A low growl, rippling with amusement and arousal.

~No,~ Riley thought, ~there is *only* Angel.~ And then all thoughts left him as Angel finally took his cock into his mouth and Riley had to reach out to brace himself on the counter. Riley's hips thrust in time with Angel's mouth, or Angel's mouth moved in time with Riley's hips - Riley wasn't sure which of them set the rhythm and he didn't really care because it was perfect, the tempo, the pressure, the cool slick swirling of that tongue, the fit of his cock in that throat - and then Riley couldn't keep his eyes up on the unreflecting mirror anymore, he had to look down at Angel kneeling before him. Riley took his hand from the counter to grasp Angel by his dark hair, holding his head in place so Riley could fuck him in the mouth, hard and steady. Riley was utterly enraptured that Angel was letting him have this rare physical control. When he heard Angel's purring growl of delight, so similar to the sound of feeding, Riley came in a torrent of physical and emotional ecstasy.

Riley released his grip but Angel didn't take his mouth away immediately, still sucking exquisitley as Riley's semen continued to spill into him. When he was satisfied that Riley was fully gratified, he wordlessly pulled Riley down to him, pushing him onto the tile floor. Considerately, he reached for a clean towel to cushion Riley's head. Angel straddled him while he examined the various small courtesy bottles on the counter, surprised at the variety Howard Johnson's offered. Riley was submissively still beneath him, except for his thumb rubbing Angel's cockhead, his fingers curled around the shaft. One by one, Angel unscrewed the caps of the bottles and sniffed the contents.

"What about this one?" he asked of each one in turn as he offered them to Riley.

"That one's fine," Riley said each time. He began to squirm, but Angel remained aloof, putting each bottle back and picking up the next one. "Any of them," Riley finally said, impatiently squeezing Angel's cock.

Angel looked at him then with the hint of a smile. "Now you've lost touching privileges," he informed Riley. "Go on," he said when Riley didn't immediately comply, "hands behind your head." With a deep sigh, Riley let go of Angel and did as he was told, clasping his hands on the towel under his head. As Angel continued with the drawn-out selection process, Riley bucked experimentally. Angel smiled, but didn't budge and Riley once again marveled at his strength. He wriggled, wanting more contact, wanting Angel to hurry up, wanting Angel inside him. Angel shifted ever so slightly, just enough to deny the contact Riley sought.

Finally Angel settled for a ginger-scented lotion, pouring some into his hand and massaging it into his cockhead and along the shaft, coating himself thoroughly, watching Riley flush as he watched Angel. Then he shifted off of Riley's body and moved back to kneel between his legs. Hands under Riley's hips, Angel pulled him forward so Riley's ass was resting on Angel's knees, opening Riley to him. He dipped his finger into the small bottle, covering it generously, and then inserted it into Riley, rotating his finger to coat the rectal passage as Riley wriggled in pleasure. When he was satisfied, Angel shifted up to position himself and entered his lover, pressing only the head inside at first.

As Angel pushed slowly, slowly in, Riley tried to shift down to take him fully inside. But Angel's lips just curled into a smile and he continued at the deliberate pace he'd chosen. "Angel," Riley breathed. He didn't know what had gotten into Angel to make him so playful... but he liked it. A lot. Even though it was tormenting him. Angel didn't stop until he was all the way inside Riley, the tip of his cock pushing against Riley's prostate - and then he stopped moving, eyes locked with Riley's. Riley felt completely filled, not quite uncomfortably so, but just at that edge. Every time he tried to shift even the slightest bit, Angel pressed a hand on his abdomen to still him. Trembling with desire, Riley concentrated on breathing, his gaze fixed on Angel's face.

Then without warning Angel pulled out almost all the way, plunged fiercely in to the hilt and then stopped again as the ring of muscle contracted around him, and Riley gasped, his clasped hands tightening behind his head. Re-establishing dominance, Angel repeated the movement, and then again, and again, with ever-shortening intervals until he was fucking Riley with abandon.

Riley's head was no longer cushioned, his hands clutching in vain at the tile floor, the towel propelled away. He arched desperately, caught between the cold hard tiles beneath him and the cool, hard-yet-yielding body above him. Riley turned his head, pressing his cheek against the floor to watch his body gyrating involuntarily, seemingly without cause, in the mirror; and then back to watch the cause, Angel beatific, claiming ownership of him with each driving thrust. Waves of pleasure washed over him; he was hard again himself, and he wanted more than anything to feel Angel's orgasm. His only coherent thought was that Angel could say, or not say, whatever he wanted; Riley knew Angel loved him. Angel could probably keep going forever, but he always came when Riley asked him to. Like now: "Come, Angel," Riley begged with a moan. "Come now." Angel took three more strokes, just because he could, before obliging: and then Riley felt the cold wetness as Angel came inside him. Then Angel was sliding out of him, lying on his stomach between Riley's legs, his hands tilting and opening Riley to him, his tongue dipping in. As Angel lapped hungrily, Riley reached down to stroke himself. Angel raised his head and moved up to lie beside Riley, kissing him and resting his own hand over the one moving on Riley's cock. Then he gently squeezed Riley's hand to stop him.

"Not yet," he murmured, breaking the kiss. He looked down at himself and his lover, at the sticky mess. "I think I need another shower," he said with a twinkle in his eye....

+++

"So, that was - what?" Faith said, making a show of looking at her watch when they finally came down and found her at a table in the bar. "Three times? Twice and a blowjob?" She was on her fourth fake margarita. ~99 cent margaritas, my ass,~ she'd thought when she'd tried one the previous night. ~More like 99 cent margarita mix.~ 99 cents was 99 cents, and you get what you pay for, but she was still annoyed. And maybe she was a little irritated that they'd taken such advantage of her offer by leaving her waiting for so long. "Didja use the lotions? I'm guessing you went with herbal, or maybe ginger?" She took another sip. "You can only get that one on-line, but I'll give you the URL if you really liked it."

Still self-conscious that Faith had heard him the night before and disconcerted at her accuracy now, Riley retaliated with mock concern, "Are you even old enough to be drinking without parent or guardian supervision?"

Faith opened her mouth with a comeback. But before she could speak, Angel said wearily, "No, let's not do this." Usually Faith and Riley got along, Angel ruminated. It hadn't escaped his notice how frequently Riley sided with her - or perhaps more accurately, backed her up. For her part, Faith would needle Riley but never pushed him too far. Without her usual targets, though, Faith seemed prepared to have a go at Riley. "We're here representing Angel Investigations. Not only do we have to be professional and behave like a team, we need to actually *be* one," he emphasized, looking pointedly from one to the other. They sat in silence for a moment before Angel said, "Let's focus on what we have in common. For example: we all fight evil." The look on his face left no room for interpretation or argument: he was serious, and they were going to do this bonding exercise.

After a long pause, Riley said quietly, "We're all seeking redemption, for the things we've done... and the things that have been done to us."

Faith started to point out that you don't need redemption for what happens to you, but it wasn't worth the contention - and she didn't really want to interrupt the way Angel and Riley were looking sublimely at each other now. It turned her on a little.

But there was only so much sentimentalism she could take, so after a moment she said, "Oh, I got one! We've all been inside Buffy." She gave them her innocent yet twisted grin.

"Please try to take this a little more seriously," Angel said. "And that's not funny, anyhow."

But Faith had already caught Riley fighting a smile, and replied, "Semper Ri thought it was." She'd come up with that nickname on patrol one time when Riley'd been telling her about the Marines. He'd said it was a terrible pun. "I know," she'd acknowledged with a grin. "And you *love* it."

Angel turned to Riley with a "don't encourage her" look.

"Oh, hey," Faith said remembering. "I got us a better place to stay tonight. I called around while you were-" ~play nice, Faith,~ she reminded herself. "While I was waiting for you," she told them. "The Rio had a last-minute cancellation. We just have to be there by nine."

"Good job, Faith," Angel said, momentarily pleased with her. "Thank you for taking the initiative."

She shrugged. "No biggie."

Angel checked his watch. It was going on 6:30; the meeting with the client was at seven. "Our client is aware that I don't intend to handle the job alone, but he's not expecting anyone else at this meeting. Maybe you could both go over and check in?" he requested, looking from one to the other. "Will you be okay if I leave you on your own?"

Faith wasn't fooled. ~You're just afraid we'll get into it in front of the client.~ Instead she said, "A Slayer and an ex-Marine? I think we can handle ourselves."

"I know you can handle anything that comes at you," Angel replied, confirming her thoughts. "Just. Just, try to get along."

+++

In silence, they went the couple of miles to the Rio on foot instead of cabbing it. Vegas was different away from the Strip, like another world - or at least another city. Once you got off the beaten, bustling neon path, there was something melancholy, almost serene, a little lonely about it. ~Must be a desert thing,~ Faith mused.

Walking the miles of concrete overpass walkways, all enclosed in metal mesh fencing, gave them a chance to patrol, and to back off of each other. Or for her to back off of him. Faith knew her little crack about Buffy had bothered Riley even though he'd laughed at it, and she was sorry as well that she'd given him a hard time about the sex with Angel thing. They had to stick together, Riley and her. They were the outsiders in the gang - "the interlopers," that's what Riley called them. He wasn't so bad, really. He was pretty serious and quiet a lot of the time, but at least he didn't get on her case the way everyone else always did. Never tried to remind her of how grateful she should be for everything everyone had supposedly done for her, never made her feel like she should get down on her knees and suck him off for it. Well, yeah, that's what he had Angel for. Faith turned her head so Riley wouldn't see the smile she couldn't wipe off her face at the image in her head as she let that scene play out.

"You got something?" Riley asked, quietly alert.

She turned back to him. "No, nothing." He nodded and they kept walking. What had she been thinking about? Oh yeah - how Riley was a decent guy. Not like that sanctimonious prick Wesley, who fucking reminded her every chance he got how goddamned grateful he thought she should be to him for getting her out. Riley wasn't like that at all, and sometimes she even thought he might be her friend. Weird. Kinda nice.

So after they checked in, Faith offered to split a Margarita-by-the-Yard with him, her treat. Riley knew it was her way of apologizing, and accepted with a smile even though he normally mainly stuck to beer. Passing the drink between them, they decided to do a little gambling to kill time while waiting for Angel. They were in Las Vegas, after all! Riley seated himself at a blackjack table, Faith standing behind him to watch, sipping the margarita. On his second hand, Riley got a seven and then a four.

"Double down," Faith said. When Riley hesitated, she added, "You always double down on eleven."

"Listen to your girlfriend, buddy," the guy sitting next to him offered kindly. So Riley pushed another chip forward with a nod to the dealer. Faith was a little surprised that Riley didn't bother to deny the girlfriend remark. His next card was a nine - but the house hit 21. Riley turned to her with a mildly accusing look as the dealer pulled his chips in.

"Hey," Faith grinned, "you always double down on eleven - but you don't always win!"

+++

Angel walked into the Harley Davidson Caf� and glanced around, wondering which of the clientele was there to meet him. The job had come to him through the Host at Caritas. He'd gone wrong a couple of times that way, so he'd insisted on a meeting before officially accepting the case.

As he hovered by the doorway, a middle-aged man in jeans and a bomber jacket approached him.

"You looking for Jake?" he asked in a smoke-graveled voice.

Angel nodded. "You're Jake?"

"That's me," the man said, shaking Angel's hand and indicating a corner table. Human through-and-through, Angel noted. "You want anything?" the man offered on their way over, holding up his own bottle in example. Angel declined with a shake of his head. As they sat down, Jake asked, "How much did our mutual friend tell you about this?"

"Not much," Angel replied. He lowered his voice and added the single word, "zombies."

Jake nodded. "That's right. Sounds crazy, I know - but then, I guess you deal with lots of crazy shit in your line." He took a swig from his beer. "Started a few years ago, dunno how many. We own downtown," he explained. "Me and my buddies, the guys who are hiring you. It's getting harder and harder for us to make a decent living. Used to be we could compete, but now we're barely getting by."

Jake paused for another sip, and Angel took the opportunity to hurry things along by suggesting, "Zombies."

"Exactly," Jake said. Seeing that Angel wasn't quite with him, he spelled it out: "It's not just the 'glitz' and 'glamor' of the Strip that's pulling our customers away. It's the herd mentality of the human race. Like a bunch of friggin' lemmings. They see everybody else doin' something, they just gotta do it, too. And that's where the zombies come in. Strip casinos are using 'em to fill up the joint, make it look like the place is jumping. Everybody wants to go where the action is; they see slot machines that are always occupied, they want to play those machines."

"Is it just the slot machines?" Angel asked, following along now.

"Mostly," Jake explained. "Minimum maintenance, easy to control. Just plop 'em down in front of a machine, give 'em a simple task like pushing a button or pulling a lever, give 'em some liquefied brains to slurp on," he shrugged. "They'll never stop."

"So what is the job, exactly?" Angel inquired.

"Put a stop to it." Jake grinned at the simplification. "We just want the odds evened. And our mutual friend tells me you're in the business of saving souls. Well, all these zombies are coming from somewhere, right? And just what - or should I say who - are they feeding 'em? So we're basically paying you to do what you wanna do anyways."

"Did our 'mutual friend' tell you to play that angle?"

Jake grinned again. "Yeah. And he told me not to worry that you'd see through it. Said you'd take it."

Angel sat back, considering. Then slowly he extended his hand across the table. "You've got yourself an investigative team, Jake."

+++

They'd polished off their first long margarita and were in fine spirits when Riley noticed that people were starting to stake out positions around the perimeter of the stage and floor area for the nightly Mardi Gras show.

"One more?" Faith suggested. Riley looked reluctant, but she knew she could wear him down. The boy was too easy-going for his own good sometimes.

With their second frozen margarita-by-the-yard in tow, Faith and Riley found a spot on the second level by three little old ladies. As soon as the show started, Faith was into it, hips and shoulders swaying to the music. Riley just stood leaning on the railing, holding onto the tall plastic container. Faith hoped Riley wouldn't get too sick of margaritas, because she wanted to go to the Paris casino before they left and get one in the giant plastic Eiffel Towers. They looked wicked cool. She glanced over and took the drink from his hands, swirling her tongue around the straw with a sidelong glance at Riley before slurping from it and handing it back. She bumped hips with him, but he only grinned at her.

"Dance, boy!" she encouraged him with a sly smile. But he demurred with a shake of his head, so she shrugged and kept shimmying herself.

When the garishly colorful floats started coming around on the ceiling tracks, Faith waved wildly, jumping up and down. Even in the sizable crowd, she was impossible to miss and hard to ignore. Sure enough, she made eye contact and beckoned suggestively to the young men and women who were tossing out necklaces, the curl of her index finger rolling up her outstretched arm, a "come-hither" gesture that could only be responded to with the reward of a necklace. Or so she hoped.

Although she had their attention, the float monkeys didn't appear to have such good aim: the first necklace - meant for her, Faith was sure - went wide to her right. Not to be denied, Faith leaned over and snagged it easily.

"Did you see that?" she enthused, turning to Riley and holding up her trophy. "I just totally whipped my hand over these grannies' heads! I was afraid I might take one of their eyes out when it snapped back." Riley gave her a boy-scout, puppy-dog look in response, and she sighed exaggeratedly. "This one is mine," she insisted, "but don't worry. I'll get one for the grannies." And she was as good as her word, snaring one for each little old lady on subsequent rounds. She even caught one for Riley, and was just putting it around his neck when Angel finally found them.

Angel couldn't help the smile that came to his lips as he watched Faith trying to get the metallic-red plastic beads around Riley's neck. They were both weaving slightly, out-of-synch with each other, laughing at themselves. Ah yes. This was Riley and Faith as he imagined them to be. He had never really seen them alone together before. And a very pretty sight it was. Like a reverse Buffy and Angel, almost.

Quickly he shook that thought from his head and went over to them.

"Staying out of trouble?" he asked.

Riley turned at the sound of Angel's voice, handing off the drink to Faith. He kissed Angel warmly, both hands cupping the back of his neck.

Faith secured the drink Riley had entrusted to her in one hand as she beheld them. She ran her finger slowly up Riley's spine, causing him to move into Angel with a shiver and a sigh. As Angel's arms went around Riley in response, his hand brushed Faith's as it lingered. The fleeting contact turned to recognition, their fingers entwining for a moment as Faith withdrew her hand, Riley still lost in the kiss... but not oblivious.

*****