Although they didn't have cable, Spike turned on the television in Angel's room, threw his coat and boots into his room and made himself comfortable on the bed. He immediately became engrossed in a black and white programme about the war and refused to be drawn on anything else, claiming he was fascinated with the documentary.

Angel left him with the alcohol and went into the bathroom. He peeled off his travelling clothes gratefully and lowered himself into as hot and as deep a bath as he could coax out of the ancient plumbing. He smiled faintly: he always thought of the Hyperion as old, but this place had been standing before Christopher Columbus was born - although they may have updated the pipe work a little since then.

He closed his eyes and let the water weave its magic on his body. No natural temperature of his own, he responded like no human could to the seeping warmth. He felt something cold against the back of his hand and opened his eyes to Spike, sitting on the rim of the bath, handing him a whisky. He took it and watched Spike thoughtfully through lowered lids. Their relationship was so intricately tied up with why they were on this trip, he wondered what Spike was thinking as he studied his naked body in the water. They had tormented her with that very relationship, finding demonic pleasure in her abhorrence. Spike swirled his hand through the water, not touching the warming skin. Then he got up and went back to the television.

Angel didn't bother to attempt to dress; they were well past that coyness now. He just dried and walked naked back into his room and slid in between the sheets next to Spike. There was a late night horror film on, which seemed applicable, and Angel watched Spike watching it for a while before he coughed slightly and put a hand on his arm.

'Come on, sleep. You can watch TV all day tomorrow.'

Spike nodded as if in a daze and flicked the switch on the remote control, seemingly fascinated in the small red dot left on the set. He pursed his lips and, without looking at Angel, asked quietly, 'Can I sleep with you again? This place is creeping me out.'

'It was supposed to, Spike, and of course.'

It was all he needed. He flung off his tee-shirt and jeans, and wrapped himself tightly around Angel once more in his vampire-makes-a-lair twisting and turning. He was still for a moment then moved away slightly and looked at Angel with a deep, appraising stare. 'You're hot.'

'I've just had a bath, yeah.'

'I've never . you've never been hot. That's new.'

'We've not been with each other since I've learnt to lie in hot baths.'

Spike came closer again and ran his hands down Angel's arm, from his solid bicep to his warm wrist. Angel moaned faintly and pulled his arm away. 'Don't, Spike.'

Spike sat up on his knees and placed a hand on Angel's belly, and stroked it up over his soft nipples. They were large, soft and swollen from the heat but peaked up when Spike pinched them. Angel rolled over onto his belly. 'You'd better go to your own bed, Spike.'

Spike trailed his finger down from Angel's hairline to the crack of his ass and then lower, dragging it through the fissure and over Angel's puckered entrance. 'Go, Spike, just leave now, please,' but he opened his legs fractionally, so Spike had better access to his anus.

Spike leant over and pushed his cold tongue into the hot hole and cooled it. Angel whimpered as he bit back the command for Spike to leave once more. Suddenly, the cool tongue swirled around his ear, and Spike licked delicately into the shell-like ridges as he said quietly, 'Hush, luv, just relax, hey? If we become. lovers, if we're going to last like you want, we need to see if it's all gonna work, don't we?'

Angel laughed into the pillow. 'You reason like the devil you are, Spike. That's crap, and you know it.' He felt Spike pull away and felt the loss of the contact acutely. He turned over and found Spike sitting cross-legged behind him, his face buried in his hands. Nothing Angel could do could prize the face out from its hiding place, so he sat patiently, waiting, and just said, 'Tell me. I've been here, remember?'

'I don't know if I can anymore.'

Angel didn't pick up on Spike's tone and only said lightly, 'What? What can't you do?'

'Fuck.'

'Err. are you swearing, or telling me..'

'I'm not sure I can do it like I used to. I wanted to see. That's what I meant. If we..' He lifted his face at last. 'If we do work all this out then what if I can't anyhow? Buggered then, ain't we. or not.'

Angel frowned. 'Spike. You have a soul; it doesn't make you impotent. I am not a eunuch - despite rumours to the contrary.'

Spike laughed with absolutely no humour in the sound at all. 'Don't be dense, Angel. I know I can get it up. but think back, luv. Think back to how I was. what you liked. the pain, the blood. it was..'

'Demonic.' They both knew this was a statement, and not a question.

'Yeah. 'xactly.'

'So . you're not sure you can do those things now you're souled?'

'Fuck, you're smart Angel; talking with you really helps me see clearly.'

Angel ignored the irony of Spike's tone and lay down, folding his arms behind his head. He began to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a deep rumble of laugher. Spike got off the bed and went into his own room, slamming the door theatrically between them.

He did not know how much time had passed, but Spike only felt darkness envelop him. Angel's demonic presence lay heavy on him, and he was crushed into the mattress. Angel began to rub his still warm body over Spike's cold one; Spike arched to the contrasting sensations and moaned a quiet refusal of Angel's need. Angel slipped a hand around and placed it over his mouth. 'Don't Spike. Don't speak. This isn't me or you or issues about your soul or mine or the need I have for you. This is just bodies, okay? This is just fucking: just for this moment. You need to find yourself tonight, so you can face what you must tomorrow. Will you let me help you?'

Spike stretched his arms over his head, and Angel took this small, familiar gesture as all the permission he needed. He bit deeply into his own wrist and smeared the blood over Spike. He slipped into Spike's anus, sliding his hands up the strong arms and clamping down on the wrists before he began to thrust in. He only moved his hips; he dipped at the waist as he lay on his childe and pushed his penis in deeply, and then reared up, pulling it out. He began to find a familiar rhythm; it unwound memories for them both. Spike began to claw at the pillows, and Angel knew he was almost ready. He made a few more dips into the tight channel, watched the hands claw some more, heard moaning, then suddenly pulled out and flipped Spike over, laughing gleefully, 'Your turn!'

He saw Spike reanimate. The scared, hesitant, confused vampire he'd travelled from America with disappeared in that instant at the old familiar game. Spike looked up at Angel stunned for moment; then he screeched in laughter, flung Angel onto his hands and knees, stretched his legs open, and thrust in, making Angel tear and bleed as he heaved his need into the welcoming rectum. Angel groaned as the unfamiliar familiar sensations began to crawl up his spine. He bent supplely at the waist and held onto the headboard. When he felt the crest beginning to build, when he heard unnecessary panting from Spike, he whipped around and shoved Spike hard onto the floor. 'My turn again!'

Spike howled in delight and spread himself against the bed; Angel flung himself off and stood behind him, revelling in the sight of the small, dark hole. He bent his legs slightly, flexing, and then forced himself in once more. Spike was laughing, and Angel caught him around the neck with one strong arm and pulled him up to standing. 'Don't fall.'

They both knew that was impossible. One thrust and Spike collapsed on the bed impaled on Angel: they both panted their glee at the feel of Angel riding his childe, and Angel just grasped Spike by the hair and increased the pounding. Spike felt he was about to explode. He jerked his body back hard, connected his hard cheeks with Angel's balls, and heard the sharp intake of breath. He wrenched off Angel's cock and flipped around, propelling Angel back into the wall. 'My turn.' Angel nodded desperately, and turned, groaning, and Spike kicked his legs apart and took his turn. They were both really close now, and Angel turned his head, looking at Spike over his shoulder with a feral look. They also knew the game was reaching the high point of fun. Who got to come in a tight ass; who got to splatter onto cold walls? Spike grinned back and slammed Angel into the wall, mashing his face against the wallpaper as he jerked his penis deeply in. Angel knew he was very close: Spike was deliberately working his prostate, trying to bring him off. He grinned and suddenly pushed himself back off the wall, and they tumbled back to the bed, Spike on his back, Angel on top of him. Spike slid out, and Angel grinned, flipping around and grabbing Spike's thigh. He lifted it up, panted, 'My turn,' and thrust in. Spike groaned and met Angel's thrusts, hips rising to meet the dark thatch of hair that sent the hard column deep into his body, making him wriggle and squeal in delight.

Spike brought Angel so close to orgasm that Angel had stopped thrusting and was trembling against his hole, as his body built a release deep in his balls. Spike grinned and skittered away on his back over the bed. Angel opened his eyes and howled in rage, and Spike flung himself on Angel, knocking him onto his back. Spike straddled him, looked at Angel with an amused expression and said triumphantly, 'My turn.' He made to lower himself on the engorged, weeping, ready cock. Angel closed his eyes and tipped his head back with the power of his conquest then opened them with outraged swearing as Spike slid back, lifted his thigh and plunged in on the mixture of blood, precum and sweat, lubricating Angel's hole. It didn't take long then. Both on a desperate peak of orgasm, both frantic for release, Angel let Spike have the victory and came, splattering his cum over his chest and belly. Spike released himself deep into Angel's rectum, jettisoning his heavy load into Angel's strong body. He twitched with the intense power of the orgasm wracking through his body, lifting and lowering himself in long thrusts into the soaked tunnel. Angel enmeshed his fingers into the blond hair and grimaced in deep, confused delight as his anus twitched with pleasure at Spike's intrusion.

When Spike had wrung the last shiver of pleasure from his orgasm, he lay gently down on Angel's belly, rubbing himself in the pool of cum. Angel chuckled. 'You can let my leg go now.'

Spike let go, and it thudded to the floor. Angel reached over to the bed and pulled the cover over to them both and wrapped his arms around Spike's back. 'Feel better?'

Spike didn't reply for a while, which confused and slightly worried Angel. He knew he was being inconsistent, and the thought that he may have ruined his own long-term goal made his still-throbbing balls contract slightly with fear.

Spike finally lifted his head and said, 'But what about you, pet? This isn't what you wanted.'

Angel looked at him dumbfounded for a moment. Then he began to chuckle and ruffled his hand affectionately through Spike's hair. 'I sacrificed myself, Spike, for the greater good.'

Spike pouted, but he said, 'Pillock,' in an equally affectionate way and tucked his head back under Angel's arm. 'I think I'm beginning to think I don't want this. this, just fucking. Good then, yes?'

Angel continued to laugh, his belly shaking Spike slightly. 'Yes, that's really good, Spike. Maybe you won't want it even more in the morning, yes?'

They fell asleep to quiet laughter. Neither remembered waking in the night, nor tumbling into Spike's bed, but they were there in the morning, tightly enmeshed around each other.

Angel woke first and got up to hang another cover over the window where dangerous sunlight was filtering in through inadequate curtains. Spike groaned and moved an arm to the empty space, but Angel was back in it before his childe could wake fully. He pulled Spike to him tightly, and felt Spike's body relax once more. Angel did not fall back to sleep. The warring in his head was particularly bad this morning - Angelus chuckling with demonic glee at his soul's total inability to come up with a good excuse for what he had done last night. His body felt profoundly grateful for the release, for the orgasm, but his brain screamed at him for his weakness.

If he'd wanted to fuck Spike back to him, why not just attempt it in LA? Why bring him all this way on this fool's errand if all he was going to do was win him back with a well-placed penis?

Angel groaned as Angelus laughed and replayed the orgasm for him, replayed the penetration, and replayed the sound Spike made when he was inside him. Angelus turned over, completely relaxed and closer to the surface, nearer escape, than he had been for a long time. Angel drew on reserves of strength and pushed him away - until Spike lifted his leg back over his thigh and said in a sleepy voice, `In.'

He bent down against Spike's ear. `I can't. I'm sorry. I was wrong last night. Don't....' Spike continued to run his hand lightly down Angel's erection, guiding it inexorably to the hole he had conveniently stretched open and ready.

`Last night really helped me, mate; I'm feeling real sorted `bout everything now.' Even he couldn't keep his voice serious, and Angel chuckled at the blatant manipulation - chuckled, and pushed in on his own laughter. They both groaned at the sensations: Angel at the tightness stimulating his cock, Spike at the feeling of fullness and the soft pressure on his prostate. Spike twisted his head around to look at Angel's face. He had his eyes shut with a look of intense concentration as he worked slowly in and out. Spike smiled. `Make it last, Angel, like you used to,' and he settled back into a kind of early morning doze, knowing Angel could keep going for hours if he wanted.

There was only the two of them in Angel's mind. He banished Angelus, thoughts of LA, promises to Wesley, rationalisation and souls and doing right: there was just this bed and the two bodies in it, intimately connected. Long, slow strokes out, soft, tight thrusts in: he knew he could keep going for hours, too. He liked it when he felt an orgasm building, and he could slow down and will it away. He liked it even better when Spike groaned at the slowing, and he knew his childe's orgasm was being dragged away from him. Angel lifted Spike's thigh some more, in a lazy, easy position. It allowed him to run his hands up Spike's balls and cock, stretching them tight then releasing them. This made Spike groan even more, and Angel could feel the cool precum leaking out and wetting the tip of the Spike's hard erection. He sighed and slowed the action even more.

Angel dragged out the slow, intense fucking for hours. He knew what the outcome would be, and he longed for the moment. Eventually - his body able to take no more set backs or delays - an intense orgasm began to build that would not be denied. He rose up on his knees and pushed Spike's legs wide. He watched the unfocused blue eyes sharpen as Spike realised what he was about to do. Spike stretched up to hold onto the headboard... and shuddered with the sudden impact that racked his body.

Angel released the pent-up orgasm like a battering ram that had been held back on a tight spring. He battered into Spike, panting, heaving, and grunting like an animal. Spike watched with fascinated lust as Angel's eyes flickered amber and in dazed response, let his own demon face appear, but he could not tell if Angel saw him or not. He couldn't hold himself steady against the force of Angel's body and was shoved away at each violent thrust, frustrating them both. Eventually, Angel bent Spike's legs over so his feet buried into the pillow alongside his face and pounded down into the mattress through the thin layers of flesh and tissue surrounding him.

When the orgasm came, Angel bit through his lip in an effort to contain the scream of pleasure he wanted to release. The blood ran down his chin, only enhancing the amber in his eyes and the grimace of ecstasy-in-agony that suffused his face. Deep inside Spike's body, the cold cum pumped out and swilled around. Spike felt a hand on his erection, a hard, insistent, domineering, commanding pull, and he came, too: his cum caught in a large palm, splashing off and rubbed around his belly, as the jerking against his raised arse continued.

Angel hung his head and shook it like a dog shaking off water. When he looked up, his eyes were brown, but deeply troubled, as if the amber had left a residue he didn't want to face.

Spike gave him a weak, hesitant smile and reached out a hand. Angel took it gratefully and lay gently on his childe, as if the gentleness now could obliterate the earlier demonic fury. Spike ran his fingers through Angel's hair, pulling the silky, sweaty strands into peaks. He heard a quiet, `Don't,' and looked down at the man on his chest.

`Why?'

`Cus I want it too much.'

Spike smiled. `Remind me, Angel, if this soul thing hits me and I become like you, stake me, hey?'

Angel lifted his head; he looked strung out and desperate. `You don't get do you? I-can't-lose-you.'

`I'm beginning to come round to that idea meself, mate; why you worried?'

Angel groaned. `Two fucks and you're anyone's, don't you see that, Spike? This is not me you're wanting; it's just physical. You could have been fucking anyone then. It really didn't have to be me; you weren't even remembering it was me. Don't lie to me.'

`Am I supposed to understand that, Angel. Are you actually speaking English here, mate? Cus you ain't making a lot of sense.'

Angel sat up and crossed his legs. Spike shifted over to give him more room, and they looked at each other warily. `Spike.'

`Yes. I'm listening.'

`I want you; you know that. But I've told you - I want it all. the whole package. the long term. the ..'

`Love?'

Angel gritted his teeth; Angelus was writhing furiously. `Yes, the love.'

`Uh huh.'

`And what we've done here in this bed....'

`And on the floor and `gainst that wall; don't forget the wall...'

Angel tipped his head on one side, looked at Spike, and then smiled. `Am I being pompous again? Angelus tells me I am.'

Spike suddenly looked wary. `He talks to you?'

`He is me, but I kind of split him off like that, yeah.'

`I don't.'

`What?'

`Well, I'm not me inside and someone else outside. I'm all me.'

`That's what Angelus is thinking too.'

Spike grinned. `Say hi for me, will you?'

`No. That's the last thing he needs.'

Spike put a hand on Angel's knee and stroked it thoughtfully. `This has been good, Angel. Don't sweat it, hey? It's not gonna change anything. We'll make this journey; I'll learn what I have to learn, and we'll work us out. eventually.'

Angel caught hold of his hand. `It could be like this all the time, Spike.'

Spike laughed delightedly. `You argue like the devil, too, Angel.'

Angel nodded, but did not look up. `Hey, broody, look at me.' Angel felt a hand on his face and allowed his chin to be tipped up. He felt a pair of cool lips and opened his in response. Spike kissed lightly then pulled away but did not let go of his hold around Angel's neck. `You've gotta remember, luv; I've been closer to being human than you for a long time anyway. And don't forget, every day I stay with you, I get another hundred for me retirement fund, so I ain't gonna be rushing away, am I?'

Angel pulled back and unfolded his legs to wind them around the pale, sinewy body. `Kiss me again.'

Spike smiled and did, and they both knew that there was nothing demonic in the soft touching of lips, of the opening and tasting, and the swells of desire coursing through their bodies. Finally, Angel pulled away and put a hand over Spike's swollen lips. `Stop. I do this... I want to... and that would be for real, Spike. Me. You. And I can't bear to do that and lose you.'

Spike lay down, staring at the ceiling. `I want to get this fucking trip over now, Angel. I want you, but you ain't gonna believe me until we've done whatever it is you think we're going to do here.'

`Don't say that, Spike; you can't mean it; you don't understand what want like that is like.'

Spike turned his head. `You underestimate me, Angel. You always have.'

Angel climbed off the bed and went back to his own room and lay on the cool, fresh bed. He looked morosely out at the weak, autumn sunshine. `It'll be dark by four. Be ready to go.'

Spike did not reply, and Angel was glad.

They arrived at the correct hotel just after eight that evening, having gotten badly lost trying to navigate the dark lanes once they'd left the motorway. They flung their bags into one corner, ripped open the small door to the fridge and found securely wrapped packages waiting for them. With a glance at each other, they opened them and did nothing else for a while but gorge on blood. They were starving; the need for blood making them both tetchy - not helped by the bad navigating.

Sated, Spike eased himself down on the bed and pulled up his tee shirt. His normally hard, flat belly was slightly convex, and he laughed and made it wobble. Angel smiled. `Remind me to thank Wesley.'

Spike nodded and stretched out. Angel looked at him. `Don't get comfortable. We're going out again.'

`I don't want to.'

`Yes. I'm not dragging this out any longer, Spike. We should have been here yesterday. Well, we're here now. Get up.'

Reluctantly, Spike got to his feet and fetched his duster. `It's raining.'

`And you are a vampire still?'

`I'm a Sunnydale vampire these days; I don't like cold rain.'

Angel didn't reply that he hated it, too; he didn't want any more excuses not to do what they had to. They got back in the car, and Angel drove; ten minutes, and they were there. The churchyard was muddy and overgrown with nettles. They parked and stood by the gate looking in.

`It's very dark.'

Angel laughed. `No street lighting. Just like the old days. Atmospheric.'

`Yeah, speak for yourself. It's too creepy.'

`Spike. We are vampires. I think if anything is creepy, it's us, no?'

`Huh.'

`Come on.' Angel opened the gate and made his way unerringly over to the small gravestone.

Spike stood and watched him then jogged to catch up. `Hey. What's going on here? How did you know where she was?'

Angel didn't reply but knelt on the wet grass. The rain was falling steadily now, and the wet saturated his clothes, clinging to his hair like tendrils of a spider's web. Spike stood and looked down at him, the rain running off his duster and drumming slightly on the leather. Angel looked up. `The house was over there, Spike; look, where those lights are now. Maybe it's the same; maybe if we went there we'd find the room where we took her.'

Spike shook his head and stepped back a little. Angel persisted. `Do you remember? She was completely mad by then. She begged me to take her, thinking I was a lover.'

Spike backed away more, but Angel's hand shot out and caught at the hem of his coat, forcing him to kneel or have it ripped off. `Don't Angel. I remember everything, I don't need you to...'

`No, Spike, that's just it; you don't.'

`W-what do you mean?' He cursed his hesitation and repeated more confidently. `What?'

`Think, Spike, think.'

`I came in, and you were both in the bed. You'd gagged her.'

Angel nodded and wondered if Spike could have any idea just how painful this was for him, too. `You'd h-had her. She was....'

`What, Spike? Tell me.'

`I've thought about that night a hundred thousand times, Angel, but never seen it. It's like it's playing out in my head now; I can feel it again.'

`I know. I know. And I'm so sorry, Spike.'

The rain suddenly got heavier, and Spike looked up at the lowering clouds, his face streaming with the downpour. `You raped her, Angel. You raped my mother.'

`Yes, I did.'

`And then I did.'

`I know.'

`Oh. God.'

Spike put his face into the wet earth, and Angel put a hand on the dark, wet, blond strands. `I'm sorry.'

`We fed off her for hours.'

`We drew it out.'

`I held her down.'

`I made it hurt - so you had to.'

`She couldn't breathe against the gag.'

`You loosened it, so she wouldn't die too soon.'

`She spoke to me.'

`You'd stayed in your human face most of the time, to torment her.'

`She asked for death.'

Angel paused. `And you refused her.'

Spike jerked up, his face awash with the mud of his mother's grave. `What! What do you mean?'

`Think, Spike.' Angel put a hand to his own face, shadowing his eyes slightly. It wouldn't help for Spike to see the pain there.

`No. Oh God. I....'

`I'd left you with her. I went to kill the rest of the household.'

`Yes.'

`I came back.'

`Yes.'

`You'd turned her, Spike.'

Spike wrenched Angel's hand away so he could look into his eyes. `Why? Why didn't I remember that? I fed her my blood cus she'd asked to die, and I wanted to .... `

`Punish her for eternity?'

Spike nodded. `Oh. Fuck.' He began to cry, great wracking sobs that tore at Angel more than his own tears could ever do.

Between the sobs, Spike managed to pant out in a low voice. `What ... I mean; I don't remember..'

`You'd done it badly, Spike. You were too young, and she didn't have enough to rise. properly.'

`Oh, fuck, no, no, no.'

`I came here ... some nights later... and dug down to her. She'd been trying to rise, but couldn't. I staked her.' His simple recitation of these facts hid from Spike the true horror of what he had found in that small grave.

Spike rubbed his hands over his eyes, only effectively coating the few remaining places of his face that had escaped the thick Devon mud. `Oh, God. A demon. I tried to make her like me. Like me.' He got up, suddenly, and screamed down at Angel. `I'm a demon. You made me like this! Did you want to punish me for eternity, too? Fuck Angel! What have you done to me? I'm damned! I shouldn't be here. This is a resting place for the godly. And I'll never be here. Fuck. Let me go!'

Angel stood and held his arms, trying to explain the different needs he'd had for his eternity, but Spike wouldn't listen. He flailed around in the Angel's arms and eventually landed a clean uppercut to his jaw, knocking him back to the ground.

He stood over Angel, still rubbing ineffectually at his face, as if that cleaning would clean other things that felt dirty. `She's not in heaven, is she? I... oh, God. I denied her that, and she's been in hell all this time. I loved her! Real love, Angel. Not the demon shit I ever felt for you or the fuck-me-lust for the Bitch. I LOVED HER. But you'll never know love like that cus you're a stinking demon, Angel, like me! You made me: well look good on what you made, cus it ain't much to be proud of, is it? ` He stumbled away and got into the car.

Angel was glad he had the keys or he had the distinct impression that Spike would have driven away and left him in the dark emptiness of the churchyard.

He climbed into the driver's seat and sat staring out at the rain. Spike did not speak, and he continued to wipe ineffectually at his face. Angel put a hand on Spike's leg but stilled, as an icy voice said. `Don't ever touch me again, Angel.'

`What?' Angel surprised himself by how calm he managed to remain, despite the temptation to let Angelus out to sort this new problem.

`You're a demon; I won't be touched by you.'

Angel decided not to argue this latest twist. He'd brought Spike to the memories he wanted him to face, now he had to assimilate them in his own time and in his own way. He removed his hand but turned to him. `We'll collect our bags, feed again, and then I'm taking you home - tonight.'

Spike flinched slightly at something, but nodded.

Angel packed for both of them. Spike seemed unable to do anything but sit on the bed. Angel brought a washcloth and tried to clean Spike's face - it was snatched from him, as if contact with his skin would burn. When everything was ready, he took the remaining blood and said, `We can't leave this, so what you can't drink, pour away.'

Spike looked at the bag and recoiled slightly. `I'm not hungry.'

`Spike! We have almost twenty-four hours before we'll be back in the Hyperion. You have to drink - or you'll get all ratty again and shout at my map reading.'

The attempt at humour failed miserably. Spike just took his luggage, looked briefly at Angel's, took that as well, and went down the stairs to the car. Now Angel was really worried: the blood he could have passed over - but Spike carrying the bags? Something was badly wrong.

*****
Part 7:

Angel had the maxim that you never know what you've had until you've lost it rammed home forcibly on the trip back to LA. He had taken Spike's friendship utterly for granted. Even the sparring, even the fighting, had always been done with a tinge of humour and shared memories of a long past together. This was like travelling with a stranger. Even worse, it was like travelling with a polite stranger. Spike seemed to have regretted his revealing outburst in the cemetery and was being icily, desperately, polite. He responded if spoken to; he insisted on carrying the bags; he didn't whine, chat up the stewardesses, drink alcohol, put his feet in Angel's lap, or any of the other things Angel had cursed on the trip over and now missed desperately.

He stared out of the window at the dark night; he chipped at his nail polish until his nails returned to their original colour. He read the safety instructions and listened carefully to the brief. He put his seatbelt on and kept it on the whole trip.

They arrived back at the Hyperion two days after leaving England, both exhausted. Angel made straight for his refrigerator and downed pint after pint of cold blood. He felt reanimated and poured some for Spike. He found his childe in the room next to his, moving. Spike stopped and looked at him, then continued to walk past him with armfuls of stuff. `I assume you don't mind me staying for a few days.'

`Err... ` Angel trailed after him, bewildered. `What are you doing?'

`I want a room further away from you.'

`Oh. Be blunt, Spike, why don't you.'

`Don't call me that.'

`What?' This came as too much of a surprise for Angel to keep the note of amusement out of his voice. Spike whirled around furiously, seemed to catch himself, paused, and then said with his continuing, icy restraint. `Just don't call me that. I'm not him anymore.'

`Okay. Good point, Spike; what shall I call you then, Spike, until you have new name - Spike?'

Spike gritted his teeth at the provocation then smiled as if it were his duty to forebear. `Don't call me anything. You won't be seeing much of me anyway. I have things to do, and I won't be here long.' He continued to pile up the new clothes Angel had bought for him, and then cast a rueful look behind him at the new CD player and discs. He pursed his lips slightly, and Angel heard a small whispered `Devil's music.' He left the gifts where they stood.

Angel followed him into the dingy bedroom he had selected on the top floor. `And you're going to be doing what?'

`That's not your business, Angel. We have no business together anymore. I appreciate your hospitality, but that's as far as it goes. Oh, and I'll pay you for the room.'

Angel gritted his teeth and also tried not to rise to the provocation. `No need. I don't pay for the hotel anyway. Besides, I owe you a hundred or two now.'

Spike spun around and glared at him. `You can't pay for righteousness, demon.' He pushed past Angel - but it was a polite shove.

Angel stood for a while, thinking. He went back to his own room, looked longingly at the comfortable bed, but grabbed his coat and headed out once again.

Wesley answered the door only after a prolonged knocking from Angel. He looked delighted to see the vampire and stepped out a little, went to embrace him, laughed ruefully, and then ran a hand in an embarrassed manner through his hair. The easy familiarity of the human, after the events of the previous few days, unmanned Angel slightly, and he pushed past Wesley and on into the apartment without waiting to be invited, dashing the back of his hand across his eyes before the human could pick up on the weakness.

He should have known Wesley better. He felt a hand on his shoulder as he sat morosely in an armchair. `Not good then?'

`Honestly? I don't know, Wesley. I went to England with Spike, but I've come back with someone else.'

`Ah. And that person doesn't want you?'

Angel laughed. `I'm not even thinking that far ahead, Wesley; he doesn't seem to want himself.'

`Ah.'

`Say something else, please. "Ah" isn't going to help.'

`It helps me, Angel. Tea does too; can I get you something?'

`Something stronger, yes.'

Wesley glanced at the clock that confirmed it was three in the morning just as the clock in the bedroom had told him. He shrugged and poured them both a whisky.

`So, you confronted his demons?'

`Yes.'

`He's feeling more.. souled?'

`A lot more, yes.'

`And this is all bad... how?'

Angel looked up. `You'll see him for yourself tomorrow.'

Wesley nodded. `How are you?'

Angel didn't catch his gaze. `I'm strung out, Wesley and wishing I could put the clock back four days.'

`Oh.'

`Not an improvement on "ah".'

`No. Sorry. Do you want to stay here tonight? The couch is yours, if you want it.' Angel nodded gratefully. Wesley went slowly back to bed, leaving the brooding vampire with the bottle of whisky.

They drove into work together in the morning before the sun rose. Wesley felt the lack of sleep and wasn't in the best mood to meet the problem childe.

He was... surprised and caught up short at the office door, Angel almost running into his back. Spike was in the office reading through some old files.

That was odd enough.

He had on a clean white shirt and a tie, a smart jacket lay over the chair back. Wesley did a double take at the effect and straightened his own tie slightly in response. He looked Spike over from head to toe, and his gaze lingered for a long time on the hair. He did not dare to turn and see Angel's expression. Finally he coughed lightly and said, `I like it.'

Spike looked up, but did not smile. He merely said, `It's irrelevant; don't mention it again.'

Angel stepped closer. `What have you done?'

Spike didn't reply. Angel went even closer and stretched out a hand to groomed, brown hair.

`Don't touch me.' Spike flinched away.

`What have you done to your fucking hair?'

`Don't swear, demon.'

'Demon? Don't you ...'

`Angel!' Wesley physically manoeuvred Angel from the office and into the kitchen. Angel could hardly speak. `See? See? I told you, you'd see for yourself!'

`Err... he seems somewhat improved to me.'

Angel's mouth dropped open. `What? How? Where? What the fuck are you seeing, Wes... cus that's not Spike sitting there.'

`No, you're right; it's not. It's a young man, smartly dressed and working. I'll agree with you, not Spike.'

`So! So! What are you going to do about it, and he keeps calling me demon!'

Wesley frowned. `Sit down, Angel. Calm down as well. I noticed that. I agree, that is rather unfortunate, given the circumstances, but it's not the first time you've been called that, is it? And you're not sensitive, surely?'

`Sensitive! I made him! What the fuck..'

`God, please, Angel, stop swearing. Spike's right; it is very unpleasant.'

Angel spluttered, looked aghast at him and stormed up the stairs to his room.

Wesley returned to the office and looked warily at Spike. Spike looked up. `I need something to do. I want to keep ... busy. Please.'

Wesley recoiled slightly, took off his glasses and gave them a wipe, then came forward. `All right. There's plenty you could do. The weapons need....'

`No. Nothing like that. I want something... else.' He trailed off lamely.

`Sending out invoices? Paying bills? I'm sure Cordelia could give you plenty of that.'

Spike hesitated for a moment then nodded. `Do you want some tea?'

Wesley tried not to laugh. `Yes, that would be very nice, thank you.'

Spike stood boiling the kettle, concentrating on the wait, keeping his mind blank, thinking only of the water. He was annoyed when he heard laughter from the office and an incredulous female voice. He steeled himself but continued to watch the steam.

`Well. hair's cool; clothes're square: over-compensating-much?'

Spike turned to her. `Hello.'

`Hello? Hello? Jees, Spike, lame or what? How's the soul then? Need brown hair and oh... look, nails again... for a soul, do you?'

Spike tipped his head on one side, looking at her. `I deserve that. You're right. But please don't call me Spike anymore.'

`Huh! Wesley! Get in here. I'm scared.'

Wesley's voice drifted out from the office. `Stop teasing Spike: he's going to help you with paperwork all day. Be grateful.'

Cordelia raised one eyebrow. `You can read?'

Spike quirked his lips a little. `I can.'

`Okay then.' She watched him leave, pursing her lips slightly. `So, what do you wanna be called?'

Spike kept his back to her. `I don't know yet.'

`Ohhh. goody.'

`NO! I don't need any suggestions.'

`Au contraire, my little brown-haired soul-boy, you do. Hmm. Cecil.'

`What!'

`Cecil. Cool English name.' She snickered slightly.

Wesley came into the reception. `Brian.'

`Shut up.'

Cordelia said sweetly, `Rupert.'

Spike ignored them and pulled the files toward him. They glanced at each other, and Wesley nodded for her to join him in the office. He shut the door.

Cordelia joined him by the window. `Is this good or bad?'

`I'm not sure. Angel thinks it's bad.'

`Cus he's not getting any groiny, I'm thinking.'

`Cordelia! Please! And how did you know?'

`Oh, please. Wesley! Hello! Can't you see it between them? Jesus, Angel looks at him like he was made of pure Pope-blood; Spike looks as if he'd suck Angel's soul for him if he asked.'

`Err... yuck and... not now, apparently.'

`Angel and not getting it... again. Nothing changes at Angel Investigations, does it?'

`This is different. He took Spike to England to ....'

`Wesley, I'm not stupid. I can get the picture. But I like this Spike... Brian. He's cute.' She turned away as if she had a new pet to play with and went back to the reception. Wesley followed her more thoughtfully and watched them both for a while.

Angel came downstairs that evening just as the humans were getting ready to leave. He looked aghast at them. `You're going?'

They looked at him and pointedly at the clock. `What if I want to work on a case?'

Cordelia gave a small, wicked smile. `Your new employee's still here, Angel, and he's tireless. Ask Brian. I'm sure he'll be up for... almost anything.'

They left, Wesley casting worried glances behind him.

Angel went into his office. Spike was standing by the window, staring out at the falling darkness. He braced slightly when he heard Angel come in, but otherwise didn't react to his presence. Angel sat on his desk with his feet on a chair. `Talk to me, Spike.'

`Don't call me that, and I have nothing to say to you.'

`You have a morass of things churning around in there that you could talk to me about. Why are you doing this?'

Spike turned around. `You are the devil, Angelus.'

`Okay. You're not Spike; I'll make an effort. But I'm not Angelus; you know that.'

Spike nodded to this concession. `I'm going out.'

`Where? Why? I don't think that's a good idea.'

`I don't particularly - but I can't stay here with you all night.'

`Oh. Do you want to go for a drink?'

`I don't drink anymore.'

Angel tired to think of something to say to this, but was effectively silenced. He watched Spike put on the jacket of his suit and flatten his brown hair some more. `You look like prey.'

Spike jerked his head a little at this, but didn't respond to the taunt.

He took one more look at the darkness, and then walked out of the hotel. Angel grabbed his coat and followed, far enough behind that Spike would not sense him, close enough to keep track of where he was going. He didn't appear to be going anywhere very fast. He seemed listless and without purpose. He avoided the crowded places. He avoided the dark alleyways that usually drew Angel. Eventually, he stopped in a small park and sat on a bench. Angel hovered in the trees some distance away. Spike put his head in his hands and didn't move for some hours. He attracted some strange glances from passers by.

Eventually, one of them sat down on the bench next to him. Angel moved closer. The man spoke to Spike. Spike looked up as if noticing for the first time that he was there. Angel couldn't hear what they were speaking about.

To his fury, Spike got up with the man and walked out of the park with him. Angel followed them, as he felt killing fury washing into his mouth. He could taste the man's blood; he wanted to see how firmly attached his head was.

He rounded a corner and watched them enter an old shabby-looking building. He looked up. A street mission. Spike was going to church.

Angel began to laugh, bitter, harsh laughter that drew the attention of the homeless scattered around the old mission. He backed away and began to run. The running felt good, but he couldn't run from his confusion.

Wesley hadn't even bothered to go to bed. He sat up, waiting for Angel's knock. He answered it with a smile and let him in.

Angel went straight to the whisky and helped himself, then he turned and looked at Wesley. `You both think I'm being dumb, don't you?'

`No, Angel. I agree with you. I didn't... at first. At first, I thought he was an improvement. But it's unhealthy: it's a parody of something unhealthy. I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. I could never trust him like this: he's like a snake that's agreed not to bite you so long as you keep agreeing with it. It's ... spooky.'

Angel sat down and felt a weight taken from him. He nodded at Wesley gratefully.

`The only thing is, I'm not sure what we can do about it. We do sort of have to respect his journey. After all, we wanted it; we brought it on.'

`I did, you mean, and for my own selfish reasons.'

`No, Angel, you couldn't leave him as he was either. Goodness, has he always been this difficult?'

Angel only smiled at fond memories. Wesley shivered at that smile and wondered what the shiver was for.

`He's gone to church now.'

Wesley spluttered his drink. `Church? Spike? Or as Cordelia's decided to call him... Brian.'

`Brian?'

Wesley smiled and pursed his lips. `Hmm, my suggestion, I'm afraid. As in: Life of?

Angel shook his head, mystified.

`Monty Python?'

Still a shake. Wesley looked sadly at him. `You are very deficient, Angel, aren't you?'

`That's why I'm here, Wes.' Angel looked directly at him. `To rectify one deficiency.'

Wesley felt his whole belly flip over and his bowels groan in ... fear?

His throat went dry. `With me?'

Angel looked puzzled. `What?'

`You want ... with me?'

`Want what with you, Wes? I want you to help me get Spike back!'

Wesley visibly slumped and was exceedingly grateful that Angel was not the most perceptive of people when it came to relationships.

`You okay?'

`Yes, I'm fine, Angel. What can I do to help?'

Angel's slightly feral grin only made Wesley's stomach flip once more.

Spike returned from his night's activities helping the homeless, feeling filthy, and guilty for thinking this. He wanted to shower, but didn't want to imply that being with the homeless was less than rewarding.

He pursed his lips at the chatter from the office then turned towards the stairs. He looked up slowly. He took a step back. He stepped back some more. He had to look again to be sure. For one moment, he'd seen Angelus coming down the stairs. When he'd looked again, it was Angel - but only just. He seemed taller, very relaxed and easy in his body... the body that was encased in tight black leather jeans and a cream silk shirt.

He sauntered past Spike, clicked imaginary guns and shot him, and then leant on the counter. `Whoa! Anyone in?'

Wesley came out of the office with his glasses perched on the top of his head. `Morning, Angel. I think I've found what you asked me to.'

Cordelia looked up from her desk at Angel and carefully put back the telephone she was holding. 'Do we have an unearthed shroud anywhere here? Cus if we do, I'm leaving for the day.'

Angel looked over at her and laughed, then turned back to Wesley. Wesley glanced over at Spike and nodded. He began to look around for his glasses. Angel smiled and leaned toward him, taking them slowly out of his hair and adjusting them on his face. Wesley smiled his thanks, and Angel ran a finger down his cheek, but then looked down at the book with interest.

Spike moved closer, but they both closed the book and turned away, talking lightly of other things. Angel looked over at Spike. `You smell.'

Spike recoiled slightly. `I've been....' He turned away and went upstairs.

Wesley glanced at Angel; Angel kept his back turned and went into his office.

Spike did not come down again until the evening. If he was surprised and annoyed to find Wesley still here, he didn't show it. Angel and the human were sitting at the kitchen table, sharing the paper together. Their heads were lowered over the pages, almost touching. Angel, Spike noted, was still dressed in the leather pants, but now had on a black shirt to match.

Spike went to the refrigerator to get something, hesitated, and came out with a carton of milk. Angel glanced at him with no real interest then turned back to Wesley. `Something violent.'

Wesley laughed. `No, something intellectual. Something French maybe.'

`No, American. Lots of blood and guts. Hey, look "Road to Perdition" that sounds good to me.'

`Angel, if you think I'm going to a film with you about someone called the Angel of Death, you've another think coming - oh, and obsessional relationships between fathers and sons... err.. `

`What are you doing?'

Wesley turned to him. `We're going to the pictures.'

`Oh.'

Angel nudged Wesley, affectionately. `Come on, decide. I'll let you this time.' He ruffled Wesley's hair, but instead of taking his hand off, let it fall naturally to the back of the human's neck and began to rub the short hairs with his thumb.

`"Life is Beautiful".'

`What?' Angel leant over the paper, close to Wesley's face; his hand slid around from the back of the neck to the side, and the thumb began to caress Wesley's ear. `Sounds girlie.'

`You'll love it.'

`Hmm. I might. Will you be there?' Angel lowered his voice and swirled the thumb over the warm skin above Wesley's collar.

Wesley blushed a deep red, took off his glasses and began to polish them furiously, then replied extremely quietly, `You know I will.'

`Then I'll love it.'

As if as an afterthought, Wesley turned to Spike. He recoiled visibly from the look that greeted him, but the expression was sucked off Spike's face quicker than the human's eyes really had time to register it. `Would you like to come? You don't mind, do you, Angel?'

Angel's face darkened. `No. Why not.' He looked pointedly at Wesley, and they all heard the unspoken, "Why'd you have to ask him?"

Spike looked from one to the other. `Yes, I would.'

Angel tutted, but led the way to the car. Spike would have gotten into the passenger seat, but Angel leant over and opened the door for Wesley. He climbed into the back instead and folded his arms, watching the two brown heads. He heard some whispering, almost lost over the noise of the air, but leant forward and caught Wesley's quiet admonishment, `Don't make him feel left out, Angel. I can have you anytime; he's only got you for a few more days... if he decides to move on.'

Spike felt, rather than actually saw, Angel's grinning response to this, but he heard the soft words. `I'll hold you to that, Wes, later tonight.'

Wesley blushed and looked out of the side window.

Angel paid for all three tickets, and they sat down. The place being nearly empty, Angel put his feet up on the seat in front of him and folded his arms behind his head. He looked the picture of self-complacency. `Wake me up when there's some blood, Wes.'

Wesley shushed him and thumped him lightly in the belly. Angel laughed and caught at the wrist, and did not let it go, and Wesley let his hand lie lightly on Angel's shirt as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Spike got up and left, and they saw him no more that night.

In the morning, Wesley and Angel came into work together, and it was debatable who looked the rougher. Wesley was still slightly unshaven, bits clearly missed from water too cold. Angel looked hung over and as if he'd had very little sleep... but they were both laughing at something as they came through the door. Wesley stumbled, Angel put a hand out to catch him and, just for a second, held him too close, before standing him securely back on his feet. Cordelia and Spike watched this entrance from the desks.

Spike wasn't wearing his suit; he had on his own black jeans and tee shirt, which only made his soft brown, flat, very groomed hair look even more odd, and him even more of a stranger. He didn't say hello to either of the late arrivals, but went into the kitchen.

As he walked away, Angel noted that even Spike's own jeans gaped slightly on him now.

He followed Spike into the kitchen, and as he was preparing himself some blood, sniffed theatrically at his shirt. `Jees.'

Spike didn't rise to the bait of conversation and stared mutely at his book. Hannibal, Angel noted, had given way to something called "Seeking the Divine in the Domestic" and he smiled inwardly at Spike's utter concentration on the first page.

`You missed a good movie last night.'

`Uh huh.'

`Yeah, I quite warmed to it after an hour or two. Wes said I'd like it. He tends to know the things I like these days.'

Spike closed his book carefully and went back to the office.

Angel trailed in after him and waited until he'd sat down and picked up a file before nodding at Wesley. `Shower?'

Wesley laughed and stood up. `I certainly need one.'

They walked slowly up the stairs together, Angel's hand resting lightly on the small of Wesley's back.

Cordelia looked over at Spike. `Make some coffee, hey?'

`Spike?'

`Spike?'

`Ground control to Brian?'

`What?'

`Coffee! I need coffee!'

`How long have they .... ` Spike trailed off and looked down at the empty mug Cordelia was sliding in his direction.

`Have they what? Hey! You don't think anything's going on between Angel and Wes.... ` She began to laugh. `

Spike looked up annoyed. `What? It's not funny.'

Cordelia spluttered. `Oh. It is, Spike. It's very funny. Wesley... well, okay he might... he's a Brit, and you just have to hear that accent... oh, and you are, too, but well, anyway....' She trailed off then brightened visibly. `But Angel? Please... he's got a curse and not the sort that makes you want to kill everyone every month... although, now you come to mention it, that would explain a lot: Angel with PMS..'

`Bint!'

She bristled slightly. `He can't go groiny with the help. human - make - Angel - a - bad - boy. Come on, Brian, you were there; you remember the last time.'

Spike looked at her slowly and stood up. He made his way up the stairs and into Angel's bedroom. He sat on the bed and listened to the water. He listened to the laughter and chatter from the shower. He lay back, and his head rested on Angel's discarded shirt. He put an arm over his face and wished to die.

Angel sought him out eventually in the new room he'd selected for himself. `You feel like some work?'

Spike didn't turn around from staring out of the window at the LA night.

`No.'

`Demons. Need killing. Right up your street, I'd have thought.'

`You think wrong. I don't do that anymore.'

`They're ungodly, Spi... they need killing. I need your help.'

`Take the humans.'

`I am. I always take them. Now I want you, too.'

Spike turned, then shrugged slightly.

Angel repressed his smile until he heard Spike following him down the stairs. When he turned at the bottom, it was almost as if he had his childe back. Spike had donned his duster; other than the odd hair, he looked his normal self.

Wesley was handing out weapons. As he passed one to Angel, he held on and pulled Angel to him. He trailed a finger down Angel's chest. `No heroics.'

Angel laughed, glanced briefly at Cordelia's turned back and kissed Wesley very swiftly - just a brief peck - then play punched him in the belly. `But I'm a hero, Wesley; it's what I do.' He swirled his coat and stormed out of the lobby.

Wesley chuckled to himself but stopped when he felt a cold hand on his arm. He looked up into the face of a devil and recoiled, sharply, the weapon in his hand rising unconsciously.

Spike shook himself and the demon slid away, but the man was no less frightening in his expression. Wesley felt his arm bruising once more and cursed at the reawakening of the old injury. `What's wrong, Spike?'

Spike did not even bristle at the use of his old name. `Don't play with fire, human.'

`Fire? No, I try very hard not to do that, Spike. Where is this fire coming from then, and I'll be sure to avoid it.'

`Hey! Brian, what'ya'doing? Wes?'

`Nothing, Cordelia. I'm just asking when Spike is leaving?'

Spike let go of the arm and watched Wesley make his way to the car. He saw some intense conversation when he got there between the other two, and Angel turned his head speculatively towards him. The four of them drove to an abandoned warehouse, and the fight was relatively short.

Spike took no part in the fighting: he stood to one side watching Wesley. There were fewer vampires than they'd thought and, panting, Wesley declared they'd have to return the next night. Angel agreed, then nodded at the two humans. `Leave us for a moment, would you?'

Wesley glanced nervously at Angel and put a hand on his arm. Once more, Angel watched Cordelia's retreating back before he pulled Wesley against him and kissed him deeply. The fighting had stirred them both, and Spike heard a groan. He had turned away when he felt his arm seized, and Wesley pushed past him to join Cordelia.

He spun around to Angel and punched him in the belly, making him go down briefly. Angel nodded faintly then stood up. `Pity you didn't do that earlier, Spike. We could have used your help.'

`Fuck you, Angel.'

`Fuck? Spike! Language!'

`Don't laugh at me, Angel! I am what you made me.'

`Get over yourself sometime soon, why don't you, Spike.'

`Like you have.'

`What?'

`Gotten over me.'

`Well, I'm not a fucking saint, Spike: I fucked you in England, and I enjoyed it, so now I'm fucking Wesley - and I'm enjoying that. It makes me feel good.'

`You're actually... with him. You said only demons.'

Angel looked down for a moment and then said, `Wes is hardly going to make me forget my path, Spike... I'm... what can I say? Restrained. Hell, he'd split open if I did what I can do to you.'

Spike began to back away. He shook his head slightly. `I'm glad I didn't fall for all that love shit you gave me when I arrived. I'm glad I stopped loving you in that churchyard.'

Angel looked up. `You over-estimate yourself again, Spike,' and with that, he pushed past and began to load weapons into the car.

They dropped Cordelia off at her apartment on the way back and, as she got out of the car, she looked between the three of them for a moment: the tension so evident it was like small static shocks in the air. She shook her head and said with an amused grin, `Sleep well.' They all ignored her and the small wave she gave them as they drove off.

Angel took a vice-like grip on Wesley's arm as soon as they parked. `Upstairs, now.'

Wesley looked at Spike and blushed. `Weapons, Angel: we can't leave them in the car.' Angel grimaced but agreed, and the increasing tension between he and the other two was almost unbearable as they unloaded, cleaned, and put them all away. Finally, Angel stood up and nodded to Wesley. `Go upstairs; run me a bath; I'll be up in a minute.'

Wesley nodded and didn't need to look at Spike's face to know the expression he'd see there. He went swiftly up the stairs without looking back.

Angel backed Spike into the wall. `You touch him - I'll kill you. I told you that when you arrived. Nothing's changed, Spike, except he's mine now in all ways. You bruise him - I stake you. You swear at him - I'll stake you. You forget to speak nicely to him one day - I'll stake you.'

He punched Spike low and hard and then turned and swaggered slightly as he went up the stairs, tunelessly humming.

Spike sat down on the one of the couches and put his head down onto his lap. Extreme hunger made him dizzy: extreme depression made him unable to cope with the hunger. He felt the maddening tears that cursed him night and day spring to his eyes, but he had nowhere left to go to outrun them. Where could he go now when no one, not even his sire, needed him? He had always thought that Angel would need him. He looked down at himself and felt an overwhelming hatred for what he had become. He stormed out of the hotel and made his way to the nearest bar, found some leftover money in one pocket and began to drink, steadily. He did not notice the figure in the shadows, watching him, or sense the intense scrutiny. He focused only on the alcohol, and the way it silenced his soul, made his guilt pack up and go away, and his pain numb. It was sublime, and he drank until he could not see, then laid his head on the bar and hoped he would be staked before he woke.

*****
tbc