Translation for one Russian sentence:
'Shto tiebie, Sasha, Boze moy, skazi, shto tiebie...' - What's happening with you, Sasha, my God, tell me...

*****

Alex noticed him at once. The elegant, dark suit reminded him of Mulder, of course. Everything these days reminded him of Mulder. Then he noticed the face. Pretty, soft-looking pink lips, begging to be kissed, and luminous, blue eyes surrounded by long eyelashes. Beautiful.

Alex realized, with astonishment that for about 2 minutes he forgot about the pain. That ache inside, his constant companion since the day Mulder disappeared. Always there, like a hydra, which grows two heads in place of the lost one.

Sometimes something happens that makes him forget about it for a little while. Seeing the Smoker's broken body at the foot of the stairs made the pain lessen a bit. Or holding the palm-pilot and imagining all sorts of nasty things he could do with it to Skinner. And now, the beautiful, young face of the stranger did that too.

He'd lived through Mulder's death once before. It didn't make it any easier. /Shut the fuck up. He isn't dead, he just disappeared, that's different./ But this memory, stuffed in a far-away corner of his mind, was now closer to the surface than ever. He tried to ignore it, he couldn't.

He was in Russia then, still recovering from post-Tunguskan trauma, still not quite accustomed to the phantom pain in his missing arm. He thought he hated Mulder, he almost managed to convince himself of it. Until that fatal phonecall from America.

Alex was staring blankly at his glass. In his head, the hydra roused her monstrous heads and hissed as unwanted memories started to force their way into his mind.

/ The phone goes flying on the wall. Mikhail is shouting, panic in his voice 'Shto tiebie, Sasha, Boze moi, skazi, shto tiebie...' as Alex sinks to his knees repeating in a strangled whisper 'No, no, no...' He can't be dead, he can't be, it's not true, please, please... 'No, no, nononononono...' over and over again, like a broken record. /

Alex shook his head, his hand tightening around the edge of the table. /Please, I don't want to think about it, not now. Please./ He looked around, desperately trying to find something to focus on, to banish the painful images, to stop the pain.

The boy in the Mulder-like suit (the stranger couldn't be more than 25 and Alex instantly started to inwardly call him 'boy') sat at the bar. The barman handed him the glass with something that looked much like whiskey. The boy drank it in one gulp and gestured to order another. A heavy leather briefcase lay beside him on the bar and an expensive long coat hung from the stool next to him.

After another minute of mindlessly contemplating the boy's beauty, Alex's instincts kicked in and he started to think. The boy looked too good for this bar. It wasn't LA's lowest class place, but still the boy was best suited for the more elegant uptown restaurants, where the waiters bow to take your order. In this filthy dive in the bad neighborhood, he was just asking for trouble.

It looked as if the boy wanted to drown his sorrows. /If he's drinking at this pace/ Alex thought half amused, /soon he won't be able to stand./ The other half reminded him about sorrows he was trying to drown and the sharp pain in his heart almost made him cry out loud.

Why the hell did he come to LA in the first place? Sunny California... Yeah, right. From his point of view it seemed that this city was only made up of bars for sad, disillusioned people to get drunk in. He had been to them all.

Alex dug his nails in his palm and the physical pain helped to clear his mind. He finished his drink and looked around. The bar was almost empty. A man at the other end, drinking beer in silence and two thugs playing pool by the old, well-worn table.

Stop. Alex's attention focused on these two. They were watching the boy at the bar and Alex could tell what they were thinking. Young, rich, drunk, stupid - easy target. Wait until he leaves the bar and then rob him blind in a dark alley. Well, not so fast boys. Your easy target has found himself a protector just now.

Alex smiled. How nice to again feel that familiar, pleasant, exciting rush of adrenaline before the fight. It had been too long, definitely too long and Alex found that he was wishing these two would do something stupid to give him a reason to smash their heads to a pulp.

The boy emptied another glass. Alex walked up to the bar and sat on a stool on the boy's right side.

"Hey" he said.

Somewhat vacant eyes looked straight at him. Alex held his breath. Up close, the boy's eyes were even more beautiful, crystalline blue and shiny in the dim light. For a moment Alex forgot what he wanted to say. He watched in fascination as the tip of his tongue moistened parted, rosy lips. Lips that would be warm and pliant under his, that would open for him, that would take him deep and suck gently...

/Whoa... Alex... Whatcha doing? This isn't really time and place./ But his body responded to the vision, he felt a stirring in his groin and maybe, maybe he could forget the accusing look in the hazel eyes the last time he looked into them.

The boy turned his eyes away. He gestured to the barman for another drink.

"The same for me." Alex said and the boy looked at him again, his gaze suspicious. But he didn't say anything.

"Have something precious in that briefcase?" Alex asked casually and smiled slightly, because the boy's eyes suddenly lost that glazed, drunken look. Now it was a cold, calculating, professional look. He knew it so well, he saw it in the mirror often enough. He raised his empty hands, showing them to the boy. The boy's eyes lingered on the gloved left hand for a while, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"I'm not interested." Alex said, "But these two at the pool table might be. Thought I'd warn ya."

The boy didn't look right away. He combed his hair with his fingers, downed another drink and only after that did he cast a quick glance, judging the situation. Alex's smile widened. This boy was a professional, all right. Now Alex was interested, not to mention that the whole scenario started to amuse him. And where was the last time he had fun?

"Thank you." The boy said. He had a sensuous voice, low and husky with just a tiny bit of a southern accent. A perfect voice for moans of pleasure in a dark bedroom, for gasping his lover's name, for pleas for mercy and begging and crying during the sweet tortures Alex would inflict on that body.

Oh God, it felt good until he remembered another body and another pair of eyes and it was like someone stuffing his heart with a handful of broken glass. 'Damn you, Mulder.' He thought 'Damn you to hell for making me love you. Damn you for everything.'

The boy gripped the briefcase and stood, swaying a little. Alex saw embossed gold letters on the black leather. Wolfram & Hart. And then he saw something else, too. The boy's right hand wasn't real. There was smooth plastic where the flesh should be.

What a fucking irony... Alex's lips twitched and he fought the urge to laugh. Trust his luck to take interest in a person whose body was crippled in the same way as his was. Fate had a funny way of mocking him.

Alex followed the boy outside, showing to the two thugs, in no subtle manner, the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. He didn't want them to try something anymore. Somehow he lost the desire to fight. Desire for other things made his half-erect cock press even harder against the fabric of his jeans.

This boy... He made him feel... something. Something other than the dull pain and despair. He intrigued Alex. And maybe, maybe Alex could fill this cold emptiness inside. Just for this night, just for a few hours. He wasn't asking for anything more.

The boy was waiting for him. The wind was ruffling his hair and it would make him look even younger and more innocent if not for his eyes. His eyes were like daggers.

"What do you want?"

Alex raised his eyebrow. Did he want something? Definitely yes, but somehow he didn't think that the answer 'I want to ravage your mouth and then nail you to the mattress' would be well taken.

"Nothing." He said.

The boy smiled, a little, bitter smile.

"Everybody wants something."

Alex shrugged.

"Oh, ok. So, I want something."

He came closer to the boy, invading his personal space and touching his arm, lightly, suggestively.

"The question is, do *you* want something?"

The boy didn't flinch, his eyes revealed nothing, but his lips parted and he licked them again in that fascinating, arousing way.

"My name's Lindsey." He said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Do you have a car?"

*******************************

Alex knelt on the bed, between Lindsey's spread legs. Lindsey was lying on his stomach, glorious and beautiful in his wanton nudity, breathing hard as he waited for Alex's next touch. His entrance was rosy and open from Alex's ministrations, and begging for more.

His right arm was bent slightly, the stump hidden under his belly, nothing marring the perfection of his body. Alex's prosthesis was lying with his clothes on the chair. They felt a bit awkward at first, undressing clumsily, each using only one hand. Lindsey took off his elegant blue shirt and for a split second Alex felt idiotic envy because Lindsey had only his hand amputated, not the whole arm.

They didn't talk much on the way to Lindsey's apartment. Alex introduced himself, following Lindsey and giving only his first name. It seemed that this information was enough for his companion, because he didn't ask for anything more. When Alex asked what 'Wolfram & Hart' meant, he only got 'It's a law firm. I'm a lawyer' as an answer in a tone of voice that excluded further inspection.

Only when they parked, Lindsey reached out and touched his left hand, pressing lightly on the leather of the glove.

"How long?" he asked and Alex wasn't at all surprised that Lindsey had noticed.

"Almost 4 years." He said. Lindsey tugged at the glove.

"May I?"

The glove was removed and Lindsey's fingers caressed the plastic.

"Is it only the hand or..." he stopped abruptly. "Forget it. Stupid question."

"It was...cut...high above the elbow. Here." With his finger Alex drew the line on his sleeve. Lindsey shuddered.

"I'm sorry", he whispered. All of sudden he looked young and innocent, his eyes lost and sad.

In response Alex kissed him, pressing his lips hard on that delicious, pink mouth, feeling with pleasure Lindsey kissing him back with hunger and passion.

Alex shook his head, focusing again on the present moment and the pleasant task at hand. He touched Lindsey's thigh, the skin so warm under his fingers, and then moved his hand higher, teasing his buttocks and the slick opening, making Lindsey squirm and wriggle his hips against Alex's hand.

He lowered himself on Lindsey's body and pushed slowly into his entrance. Lindsey whimpered beneath him, his hair tickling Alex's cheek. Alex moved, sinking into that eager flesh until he was all the way in, balls-deep in Lindsey's ass. He paused for a moment, licking the soft skin of his lover's neck. Lindsey moaned.

"Pleee...aseee..." he begged.

Alex started to move again, pulling out almost entirely and then slamming back into the deep, wet heat. Lindsey gasped, his body trembling, his hard cock rubbing against the sheets.

"Don't move." Alex ordered, panting, his cock driving in and out of Lindsey's ass with punishing force.

"You'll come when I'll tell you to."

Lindsey moaned as Alex's fingers dug in his arm, and tilted his head submissively. The smooth line of his neck looked so inviting that Alex once more bent his head, his tongue leaving a wet path on the skin.

'Fuck me hard.' Lindsey had said earlier. 'I need it.' And, ohhhh, did he need it.... If Lindsey got off on being dominated, Alex could give it to him. With pleasure.

Lindsey was moaning constantly now, his body shuddering as he was trying to obey Alex's order and willing himself not to come. Alex paused again, listening with delight to his lover's incoherent whimpers. It was so good to feel this power, to be in control.

"Beg for it, Lindsey..." he demanded rubbing his cheek against Lindsey's hair. It was so soft, almost like silk, pleasantly smelling of some expensive shampoo. His teeth tightened a bit on the skin just below the ear, his cock pushing and hitting Lindsey's gland on each downstroke. Lindsey gasped and trashed beneath him, his inner muscles squeezing Alex so hard, that he almost came. Alex saw a single tear slowly rolling down the boy's cheek. He frowned, his mouth still on Lindsey's neck. That was an odd reaction. He bit again, stronger this time, marking the skin, feeling the vein pulsating under his tongue.

Lindsey screamed and suddenly he was coming, his fingers tearing the sheet his hot channel closing around Alex's cock, his violent orgasm crashing into Alex's body like a tidal wave.

Alex pushed one more time, his teeth latched onto Lindsey's neck so hard, he was sure he drew blood. He came forcefully, Lindsey's muscles milking him until the last drop of his seed was spent inside the warm body.

Nothing in his head. Nothing except the haze of pleasure. He was floating on a nice, downy cloud somewhere high above the ground. Please, God, let it stay that way for a few moments longer.

Lindsey's body moved and Alex realized he must be crushing the younger man. He pulled away from him, causing a slight whimper of pain as his cock slipped from the tender hole.

And then he noticed the blood on Lindsey's neck. Fuck, he really bit him that hard. Lindsey sat on the bed, wincing slightly, touching the wound. He looked at his fingers covered with the red moisture, a strange, dreamy expression on his face.

"I'm sorry..." Alex started, but the other man interrupted him.

"Don't. Don't apologize. I loved it."

His voice was soft and his eyes were locked on Alex's, but Alex had a feeling that Lindsey wasn't talking to him, but to some ghost from the past. And it was all right. He used Lindsey to find oblivion for one night, it didn't matter if Lindsey did the same. It worked just fine and tonight he could fall asleep without tossing and turning in the bed for hours. And if he was really lucky he would sleep without nightmares and his dreams of Mulder would be pleasant ones.

*****
Part 2:

When he returned from the shower, Lindsey wasn't in the bedroom.

"Do you want a drink, Alex?" Lindsey called from the living room and he said 'Yes.' He finished dressing and then he heard a noise. A loud crash, something heavy hitting the wall and Lindsey's cry of pain. And then the voice, soft, but deadly, with a thinly veiled threat.

"You should have revoked the invitation, Lindsey. Unless you wanted me to come, of course."

Alex opened the door a crack, gun firmly in his hand. From his position he saw only the assailant's broad back in the black leather jacket, black pants and heavy black boots, holding Lindsey by the throat. Lindsey, wearing only dark blue pajama bottoms, was pressed with his back against the wall, his feet barely touching the floor.

"Where is Darla, Lindsey?

The man's hand tightened a bit more around Lindsey's throat and he gasped from the pain, fingers digging in the man's wrist.

"Where is she?" the man repeated, pushing Lindsey's body hard against the wall, wrenching another strangled, tortured moan. Lindsey's feet were dangling in the air now.

Alex slowly, slowly closed the gap. He could see both men's profiles now. Lindsey struggled to speak, his lips parted, his breath coming in short gasps. The man loosened his hold and Lindsey landed heavily on his feet, panting. The man had his hand still around Lindsey's throat, but he wasn't choking him anymore.

"I don't know, Angel." Lindsey said, swallowing hard, his throat moving under the large palm.

/Angel. Unusual name. Like Fox. / Stab of pain. /Shut up. Shut. Up. / He ordered himself. He tightened his fingers on the butt of the gun, preparing for intervention. But something happened, something that stopped him dead in the tracks.

Angel gripped Lindsey by the hair, tilting his head hard to one side.

"Did she do this, Lindsey?" Angel asked and Alex realized he was looking at the teeth marks on Lindsey's neck.

Alex watched with fascination, completely frozen, as Angel caressed the wound with his thumb, gently first, then harder until it started bleeding again. Lindsey was breathing hard, his eyes locked on Angel's face. His left palm slid down from Angel's wrist and was now pressed flat against the wall, his whole body pliant and submissive under Angel's touch.

Alex's eyes narrowed. It looked as if Lindsey was enjoying this bizarre, violent caress. /And who are you to judge. Remember the Hong Kong airport, the warehouse, the cell in Tunguska?/ Alex pressed the cold metal of the gun to his cheek, /Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!/ but it didn't bring any relief.

Lindsey moaned, he was shivering. Angel's body so close to his that they were almost touching. Angel brought his face to Lindsey's hair, inhaling deeply. When he started talking, cold shivers ran down Alex's spine. Angel's voice was dark, demonic, dangerous.

"You smell so nice, boy... All that arousal, excitement and fear...I forgot how intoxicating it can be."

Angel nuzzled Lindsey's neck and slowly, sensuously licked small droplets of blood from the skin. There was something animalistic in this gesture, yet at the same time it was strangely erotic.

Another moan of pleasure escaped Lindsey's throat. Angel looked at him with a smirk.

"I didn't know you missed me that much."

And his hand tightened once again around Lindsey's throat, lifting him above the ground. Lindsey started choking, his fingers helplessly scraping the wall.

Alex made his decision. He had enough of this sick game. This Angel, whoever he was, was clearly a sadistic psycho. And maybe he should wait, not do anything, let Lindsey handle the situation. But it didn't seem like Lindsey was able to handle anything. He wasn't fighting or arguing, just taking that strange punishment with resignation and willing surrender that was making Alex sick to his stomach. And he knew the reason, although he hated to admit it. It reminded him too much of the times when he was in Lindsey's position, waiting for another punch, another harsh word, not struggling, just accepting and he had enough.

So maybe Lindsey was just like him, maybe he wanted to die, maybe he didn't care if he did, as long as it was Angel's fingers squeezing the life out of him.

And maybe it wasn't the wisest thing to do, creeping up on them and pressing his gun into Angel's neck. But he did just that.

"Let him go", he said.

Lindsey's eyes snapped open at the sound his voice, wide and beautiful, desire and fear mixed in them. He was struggling for air, because Angel didn't loosen his grip. He just turned his head a bit and looked straight at Alex.

Angel's dark brown eyes were cold and emotionless, a cruel half-smile on his lips and yet all Alex could think of was how the name suited him. /Face of an angel./ he thought with awe.

Then everything happened at once. Alex didn't see Angel moving and yet suddenly Lindsey's body fell to the floor and it lay there like a broken doll. And Angel was behind him and his arms tightly circled Alex's body.

It was impossible. No man that big should be able to move so quickly. No man was able to move so quickly, period. But there was an arm crushing his throat, immobilizing his head. And his right hand was in a vise grip and the gun slipped from his numb fingers.

Angel's body was hard as marble. And just as cold. And he wasn't breathing. Alex's back was pressed tightly against Angel's chest and all he felt was coldness.

/Not human./ the thought appeared in Alex's mind from nowhere, but he instinctively and instantly knew it was the truth. Angel wasn't human. But who or what was he? Shape shifter? Or worse...and Alex shuddered at the thought... The black oil.

Alex started to panic. Angel held him in an iron grip and he wasn't showing any sign of letting go.

/Oh God...No, not again. Please...I won't survive it again./

Jesus, he had trouble breathing and not because Angel's arm was pressing into his windpipe. He remembered the silo, darkness and sickness, oil smeared all over his face. Panic clouded his brain. One second longer and he'd start screaming like a madman and kick and pound with his fist in a futile attempt to free himself.

And then, all of sudden, it ended. One firm push sent Alex flying to the wall and he howled with pain as his head hit the hard surface. When he recovered, there was nobody else in the apartment beside him and Lindsey.

***********************************

"Stay for the night." Lindsey said when Alex emerged from the bathroom. No damage had been done apart from one large bruise on his forehead. Lindsey looked so much worse, with barely healed wounds on his neck, split lower lip and an assorted collection of ugly, bluish bruises around his throat. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, naked, massaging his abused skin and looking at Alex pleadingly.

"If you want." Alex said, nervous, unsure what to say and if he should say anything at all.

"I do." Lindsey was looking at Alex steadily with his pleading, puppy-dog eyes.

"I need someone warm beside me tonight. Someone..." He dropped his gaze and whispered. "...alive."

Alex walked up to the bed, shedding his jeans and shirt for the second time, again putting away his prosthesis. Lindsey was waiting for him on his back, beautiful despite all the damage done to his body. He was fully erect, his cock jutting proudly from between his thighs. Alex remembered how it felt to have it in his mouth, hot and hard and having Lindsey needy and desperate at his mercy. He felt his cock jump in response and oh, he wanted it again. And all the questions could wait. Because all he wanted now was Lindsey's warm body and Lindsey's tight ass and his sweet whimpers and moans.

And Lindsey wanted the same, because he spread his legs invitingly and pulled Alex on top of him, causing a groan when their hard cocks bumped against each other.

Their mouths met, hungry and insatiable. Lindsey sucked on Alex's lower lip until it was red and swollen, then he moved lower, to his nipples, circling them with his skillful tongue.

And Alex was so hard, he couldn't wait anymore. He guided Lindsey to lay on his stomach and pushed his head against the pillows, careful not to touch his sore throat. And Lindsey willingly raised his ass in the air, his face pressed against the satin, panting and spreading his legs to give Alex easy access.

And Alex plunged into the welcoming heat of his lover's body, pushing and moaning and sending them both into total oblivion.

Later, when they were lying on the rumpled sheets, sweaty and relaxed, Lindsey started talking. And his tale wasn't the usual one.

*****
Part 3:

"The first time I saw him, he threw my client out of the window. I didn't know anything about him then. I only saw a vampire walking in the middle of the day into a room full of people and throwing another vampire, a powerful and strong creature, through the closed window.

And he was magnificent, beautiful... His presence seemed to brighten up the room.

I gave him a company card and he put it back in my pocket. His fingers brushed my body. My heart was beating so loud and fast that I thought it'd explode in my chest. I was sure everybody could hear it, not only him with his sensitive, vampiric senses.

The same day I checked everything I could find about him. I stayed awake till four in the morning, reading through the old books and scrolls. And I knew already that my interest in him wasn't strictly professional.

Yes, he has a soul now, wears a white hat and helps the hopeless. But once he was a very brutal bastard, by all accounts. Loved to torture his victims, before he drained them.

The demon with the face of an angel.

How they suited him, these words. The demon. The angel. And that's who he is for me. My demon. My angel. My one and only obsession. Isn't that pathetic, Alex?

He cost a lot of trouble to Wolfram & Hart, destroyed a few lucrative deals. So I hired someone to kill him. That was my idea, Alex, not my bosses', not anyone else's. Mine. I wanted him dead, really dead. I wanted to turn him into a pile of ash, after sticking the stake through his heart. And at the same time I just wanted him, plainly and simply. I wanted him to dominate me, to put me in my place, to punish me, to love me, to do something, anything. Yeah, I'm one sick puppy, Alex. The killer, well...She didn't succeed.

And the next time I saw him I was doing something I never thought I'd be able to do. I was asking him for help. I wanted out.

I did bad things, Alex. Hurt many people on my way to the top. I didn't hesitate to use everybody and everything to get me what I wanted, to fulfill my dreams of wealth and power.

But this... I couldn't do. I couldn't help them to kill those children.

So I went to him.

He didn't trust me, that I knew and expected. But I didn't expect such an utter contempt in his eyes and in his voice. He yawned when I tried to explain to him why I did what I did. He yawned and asked, bored 'Did you get to the point where you're evil?'

I asked him what would convince him that I've changed, if getting myself killed would be convincing enough. And you know what he answered? 'It's a start.'

It hurt, Alex. It hurt so fucking much. But I really wanted out and I wanted him to help me, so I endured everything.

I betrayed my firm, I put my life on the line, and it wasn't enough. The contempt in his eyes, the malice in his voice was all I got. And still, despite everything, I was almost happy, because for once in my life I was doing the right thing and I was doing it with him.

After doing the job, after saving the children and bringing them to the safe place, we drove back. My shirt was torn and soaked with blood, my face looked just like now, all cuts and bruises. And for the first time he didn't look at me with contempt and coldness. There was something in his eyes... I don't know, a little bit of respect, maybe, something warm and almost friendly. And I was getting high on this. Just sitting beside him in his car, watching him drive gave me a hard on. Like a fucking teenager on a first date.

He sensed it. He sensed my arousal, my need. And when he said I could clean myself up at his place, I knew what he was really offering me.

He took me there, in the shower. He pressed me against the wall, his hands bruising my hips, and pushed inside. He barely prepared me and it hurt like hell, but, oh, Alex, how I craved that ache. This was what I wanted... Him possessing me, filling me, whispering 'Beautiful boy' in my ear with a voice thick with lust. When he came, I felt fangs scraping against my neck. And it was enough to send me into the orgasm of my life.

He didn't bite me then. He turned me around and kneeled. And I was instantly half-hard again, just seeing him at my feet in his vampire face, eyes yellow and gleaming, hearing an animal-like growl that sent vibration through my body.

And when his fangs sank into my thigh, I didn't care for anything. I could have died there, I wouldn't have cared.

He took me two more times that night. He brought me almost to madness keeping me from coming for hours, doing things with his fingers and tongue and cock that I didn't know were possible. And all the time I wanted more, more, more.

And it was wonderful. And glorious.

And it frightened me to the core. It was making me dependable, it was making me weak. It was forcing me to admit that I made a wrong choice. It was forcing me to make the choice again. And I did.

They offered me the world and I took the offer. They offered me a new office, a six-figure salary and a full-benefits package. They promoted me, made me a junior partner. I took it all.

The next time I saw Angel, he cut off my right hand with his axe. And from that moment on, violence became the pattern for our meetings.

He beats me up. I take it. Bye, Angel, see you next time.

One day he may kill me. One day he'll allow his demon to take control and then, rest in peace, Lindsey McDonald."

Lindsey paused, fingers automatically caressing the bruises on his neck. He looked at Alex with a slight smile.

"You don't seem to be shocked. And you don't seem to think that I'm a madman. What's your secret, Alex? You too meet vampires and demons on a daily basis?"

Alex sat on the bed. For the last half-hour he had been lying on his side, head resting on his elbow and his arm had started to go numb.

"No." he said. "Aliens."

"Aliens?"

Lindsey seemed to be taken aback by this statement.

"You mean, little green men?"

"Actually, they're gray. And they aren't little."

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Suddenly they burst out laughing. They were laughing like crazy and couldn't stop. Alex fell on his back beside Lindsey, thinking of how beautiful he looked. And then he had to kiss him.

After the kiss, and more laughter and a few caresses, Lindsey lay on his side facing Alex, his eyes full of wonder and curiosity.

"You aren't joking, are you?"

Alex sighed and made himself more comfortable, putting another pillow under his head.

"Lindsey, I shot a man once because he made me see a gun in his hand that was pointed at my partner, when in reality he was holding a bible. I was working for the men who were cooperating with aliens to prepare the earth for colonization. I was possessed by such an alien and saw it leave my body in the form of a black, oily substance, almost killing me in the process. And..."

He paused for a second, feeling a familiar sting in his heart.

"And recently, the love of my life was kidnapped by the alien space ship. So, no, Lindsey, I'm not really shocked that you're in love with a vampire."

"I'm not in love." Lindsey protested. "It's just..."

Alex raised his eyebrow. Lindsey sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, ok, I am. I told you, I'm pathetic."

"I don't know if it's any consolation, but so am I." Alex smiled sadly.

"Lindsey, what you've told me... Well, you were telling the story of my life. He isn't a mysterious and beautiful vampire, but an egocentric, obsessed and beautiful FBI agent. His name is not Angel. His name is Fox. But the rest is almost the same.

We had one time together, too. We were partners then, and he trusted me. He called me Alex, not one of the names from the wide repertoire of insults he has for me now. And during our one night of passion, he whispered in my ear that I was beautiful, too.

I betrayed him later, believing I was doing the right thing, believing I was saving his life.

I followed him on his quest for the truth and had my arm butchered off as a result.

Every time I went to him with information and help, I returned with a new set of bruises.

And now... Now he's missing. And it eats me up inside. Because I can't do anything to save him.

I hate to be so helpless, Lindsey."

Alex hid his face in the pillow. Tears were gathering in his eyes, and any moment he's going to start crying like a little boy.

He felt an arm around his waist. Lindsey pulled him closer until Alex's head was resting on Lindsey's chest.

"Try to sleep, Alex." Lindsey said. "It'll be dawn soon."

And Alex sank in the comfort of the warm embrace, not caring anymore that his eyes were wet, that he was sobbing quietly, knowing that Lindsey understood.

When he couldn't cry anymore, Lindsey put the cover around them, never releasing his hold. And Alex felt like a kid again, when his mom used to wrap him in a fluffy blanket and sing old Russian songs for him. Or when Fox cradled him in his arms after kissing every inch of his body, whispering sweet nothings, his voice caressing and loving.

He didn't even notice when the rhythm of Lindsey's heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

The end.