"Did I ever mention how much I like these?" Wil murmured as he toyed with one of Angel's earrings. "They're very different. How did Cordelia talk you into it?"

Angel sighed and tried to ignore the feel of Wil's fingers tracing his ear. He knew it was just a diversionary tactic; Wil was upset about what had happened that night, but he didn't want to deal with it. "Yes and we've already talked about that."

Wil pouted, even though Angel couldn't see his face. "But I like the story."

"You're stalling," Angel accused, closing his eyes. He didn't really want to talk about it, but they needed to, for multiple reasons. "What went wrong tonight, Wil?"

The blonde rolled off Angel and flopped to one side, staring up at the ceiling. He'd been waiting for this, ever since they'd left the scene of the massacre. He'd been avoiding serious talk ever since, even going so far as calling a shower immediately after Fred to keep from having to go over it with Angel. After that he'd commandeered the kitchen, cooking all the food-eaters something to fill their stomachs. One look at the raw bacon in the fridge had sent him to the produce drawer, much to everyone's relief. For once, no one-not even Gunn, complained about having salad for dinner. He'd managed to gulp down his blood without looking at it or tasting it, and he'd gone and brushed his teeth immediately afterwards.

Now, though, there was no more hiding. The others had retreated into their rooms, doing the same thing that he and Angel were about to do-talk about what they'd caused. The problem was that he really didn't want to-he'd do almost anything short of staking himself or Angel to keep from having to verbalize what was running through his head. "Do we have to do this?"

Angel grimaced. It wasn't like he was exactly looking forward to it, but it had to be done. "Yes, we do. Wil, I saw your face. I saw what happened."

Wil turned over, punching his pillow into shape. "Why didn't we think of it?"

A long silence answered him. Angel spent several minutes formulating an answer. "I think we did."

"How so?" Wil asked a bit angrily. "I don't remember discussing a massacre in our plans. Where was it we mentioned bloodbaths?"

Angel sighed. "We knew it would be violent-we even planned to have the thing happen where there wouldn't be many humans around to get hurt."

"What about them?" Wil inquired. "Didn't we think about them?"

"Honestly? I don't think we did. I mean, I know I never really considered what might happen to either the Dhois or the werewolves." It hurt Angel a lot to say that-that he'd never even considered the well-being of those creatures. It reminded him far too much of what he'd done to a roomful of Wolfram & Hart's lawyers; that is, it called to mind just how inhumane he could be, how easily he could put others outside his moral sphere.

"But why not? They're beings too; what makes them less worthy of consideration than humans?" Wil questioned furiously. "We even have werewolves in our group-what do they feel? They helped slaughter a pack of their own!"

The dark vampire couldn't even begin to imagine how Cordelia and Oz felt-having helped destroy so many of their kin. Yes, Angel had dusted hundreds, if not thousands, of vampires, but it was different-with very few exceptions, soulless vampires were uniformly evil. Werewolves, however, were souled creatures, capable of living good lives, like humans. These creatures, they might have been redeemable.even if they weren't.

"When did we stop thinking about such things?" Wil asked his lover. "Did we ever consider them? Ever?"

"We can't stop to dissect every single thing," Angel countered. "We'd never get anything done. We're supposed to be fighting for good."

"But how much good are we when we actively instigate death for our own ends? How much better are we than those we fight?" Wil responded. "We probably killed a hundred people-not humans, but people nevertheless, just to gain the attention of a few Watchers."

"But what will that cause?" Angel asked back. "If those Watchers foment a reform within the Council, many lives-both human and nonhuman-could be saved."

Wil snorted. "That's the same excuse that armies use when they kill off civilians and take over countries. It's the same excuse that doctor-monsters use when they do experiments on prisoners and the mentally ill. 'For the greater good,' they say. The problem is, utilitarianism only gets you so far. What's the line, Angel? When have we crossed from 'the needs of the many?'"

Angel turned over to stare at the wall. "I don't know the answer to that. What I do know is that our job would be impossible if we decided that we would never hurt or kill anyone."

"That's not what I meant," Wil said frustratedly. "Yes, we're going to have to kill-the vamp that's got his fangs in a little girl's neck, the Fyarl about to torch a church. Yeah, I get those deaths. But these demons and werewolves, what did they do?"

"They were criminals, organizing illegal activities, using fear and violence for their own gain," Angel defended. "And they were being supported by an even greater evil."

This got an even more violent reaction from Wil. "First off, 'civilized' governments don't try to execute members of organized crime syndicates. They lock those people in jail, but they don't just kill them-that's what barbaric places do. Second of all, if we used your standards, we could rationalize killing a lot of poor college students, inner city families and the like; after all, they're all being supported with Wolfram & Hart's dirty money."

"But they don't know it. They aren't willing, knowledgeable participants in the firm's activities. They think they're being given a helping hand by a charitable organization." Angel turned over to face Wil. "Look, I'm not trying to say what we did was right-"

"Then what are you trying to say?" Wil interrupted. "That what we did was necessary? That we'd exhausted every other option we had before playing war games?"

"I think we did the best we could with the resources we have," Angel replied calmly. "We don't have the contacts or political power to effect change without drastic action."

"Which is the excuse that terrorists use when they go off and kill innocent people," Wil shot back. "The thing is about terrorists is that regardless of the cause they espouse, they're bad-evil, to be exact. They could claim to be fighting for god, or for equality, or for a homeland, but in the end they're evil. They kill people who did nothing to them, just to gain attention and make a point. So tell me, Angel, how are we different? How is it that humans can sneak into a community unseen and be the instigators of mass slaughter and be labeled terrorists, but we can do the same thing and be considered heroes?"

"We're." Angel's voice faded. He knew that they'd done what had to be done.but he also saw where Wil was coming from. "I'm not proud of what we did. And yes, perhaps there was another, less violent, way to do what we wanted done. But in the end, we chose a path. It would do no good for any party in this situation for us to step forward and take the blame. Perhaps your guilt would be assuaged, but what else? If I'm not mistaken, it was you who wrote that what you and I are doing isn't for our own redemption, but for the 'good fight,' so to speak. How would us self-flagellating be beneficial to that cause?"

It was Wil's turn to be silent for a while. He still felt that they'd taken the wrong path, but he also knew that Angel was right-he was letting his own personal guilt override his better judgment. "But all that blood.its killing me that we didn't know, that we didn't let ourselves know."

"And you think perhaps that I enjoyed it, that everyone else liked what they saw?" Angel accused. "I'd wager that everyone in this apartment is sick to their stomachs. Hells, we can hear their conversations. They're all horrified, disgusted with themselves and with the forces that demanded this action."

"But." Wil thought for a moment. "What have we learned from this?"

"You tell me," Angel countered. "What did we learn? That we need to change the way we look at our vocation? That we have weak stomachs?"

Will laughed harshly. "That there's less separating us from our enemies than we'd thought?"

"Perhaps," Angel said softly. "But I think we both knew that already. You've taught me a lot, Wil, since you showed up in my lobby. One of the most important lessons, though, was that everything we do as we walk this path should be selfless-that our own personal redemption isn't the goal, but merely a footnote. It's a hard thing to swallow, letting go of something I want so desperately. I know, however, that you're right."

"But was what we did completely selfless?" Wil inquired. "Or were we so focused on that goal, on our own desire to reach it, that we forgot something-namely our own sense of mercy?"

"You ask difficult questions," Angel commented. "I don't know." Something Lorne had said to him quite some time ago whispered through his head. The green demon had said once that Angel should be careful not to lose touch with his community-that such a thing would cost him. At one point he was sure the comment had to do with what had happened to Cordelia, Wesley, Xander and Oz.but perhaps it was more than that. "Maybe we've lost touch."

Wil glanced over at Angel. "With what?"

"Everything-the world, our community, our friends. In many ways, we've been behaving the way Buffy does, so focused on what we think is 'right' that we steamroll everything in our path."

Wil winced at being compared to the Slayer, but he knew it was accurate. "So what do we do?"

Angel thought silently for a long time. What could they do? There was a distinct possibility that they wouldn't be able to reconnect with the rest of the world, that they'd spent so long being its protectors that there was no longer any place for them within it. "I don't-"

"That's what I thought," Wil growled. "All talk and no answers." Angel snarled at the blonde's tone of voice. "What we do is try. We just try-we go back and we pick a place and we start over. Period. Just start over."

"But what about Wolfram & Hart? They're going to keep trying-"

"First of all, I didn't say that we wouldn't go back to L.A., or that we'd just drop the law firm. I said we'd start over; picking a place referred to a starting point. But you know, it's not like we have to go back to Los Angeles at all. It's odd how we keep thinking about that city as the epicenter of evil, even when we're sitting in a city that could easily compete for the title. There are places all over this planet with things going on in them like Wolfram & Hart's operation, and they all seem to be surviving okay. We aren't the only finger holding the water in, Angel. There are others-there have to be, otherwise this world would be lost. It wants to stay good, and is trying very hard. We're just one part in that struggle."

Angel said nothing, so Wil continued. "Really, we're insignificant-eight or nine people, depending on how you count. Buffy's just one person and she gets quite a lot done. And you know there are others. What's more important is that everyone who's fighting keeps fighting, not that we're fighting one particular battle. If we just vanished, the world would continue spinning. We're not that important."

"So why do we do it?" Angel asked. He wasn't sure he liked Wil's take on what they did for a living.

"Because it's a good thing to do. We do good things. It doesn't matter if we do the most good or not, or if we're the 'best' warriors or not. We've been trying to tackle the biggest and most powerful evil on our own, but why? Because we're the only ones who will, or because our egos demand that we prove we're the best at what we do?"

Once again, Angel had nothing to say. "I love what we do-we're repaying at least a small part of what we took from this world as soulless demons. Moreover, we're making it a better place for many people, human and nonhuman, to live. I just think that we should think a little more, okay? We're doing too much by reflex and too little by thought."

Angel nodded slowly. "I know what you mean, and we should work on it, I agree." He rolled onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling. "But I do have one other question."

"What?" Wil asked warily. This conversation was giving him a killer headache.

"Can we have sex now? I haven't touched you in days."

"Hmm." Wil hummed, pretending to think about it. "I have a headache."

Angel turned over again and reached for Wil. The blonde found himself draped over an amused-looking vampire with an evil-looking smirk on his face. "Headache?"

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it, but what did you do?" Wil accused, grinning a bit.

Angel put one hand on the back of Wil's head, brining him down for a slow kiss. "Shut up, would you?" He asked when they finished. "Just when I start to forget how much of a smart ass you are, you have to go off and remind me."

Wil didn't reply because he was busy removing their clothing. The whispering slide of skin on skin was the only response Angel got as the blonde settled back on top of him, leaning back down for another kiss. Angel soon forgot about Wil's headache and his own complaints as their bodies mated and melted together, a meeting of flesh, blood and spirit that never ceased to enthrall and humble him.

*****
Part 54:

"Well, shit."

Buffy looked around the Hyperion's lobby, taking in the mess. Mess? Actually, it was more of a disaster. For that matter, so was she. Everything she laid eyes on was covered in a thick coating of chunky, slimy, smelly demon remains. How was she to know that the demons who'd come to 'see' Angel would explode at the touch of a stake?

A lurching movement out of the corner of her eye had the Slayer spinning around, stake at the ready. The wriggling mass stood slowly, transforming into her sister, Dawn. "Buffy, you are so dead."

"Um, I didn't know?" Buffy tried. "Really, Dawn, I didn't." She felt bad that her sister was covered in the obnoxious leavings of a bunch of dead demons, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

"Holy." Lorne whispered as he stuck his head into the lobby. "What did you do, put them in a blender with the lid off?"

Buffy sent a rude gesture towards the demon and took a sticky step in the direction of the kitchen. "No, I staked them. No one told me they were the 'exploding' variety of demon."

"Oh," Lorne murmured. "You are going to clean this up, right?"

"Yes, I'm going to clean this up," Buffy snarled. She hoped that Dawn would volunteer to help her, but she didn't bother asking. Her little sister was much more likely to lend a hand if she chose to do so on her own, out of the goodness of her heart.

"Fine, fine, I'll help," Dawn muttered, following her sister to the kitchen. "Krev, where'd you put the shovel?"

"It's in the pantry," Lorne replied. Once the two girls were gone, he returned to the club to check on Willow. Of course she was in the same place he'd left her-sitting at a booth, sorting paperwork. When Lorne slid into the seat across from her, she stopped moving papers around and looked up.

"You're overpaying for Gran Marnier," Willow commented, thrusting a paper at him.

"How so?" Lorne inquired, peering at the bill.

"They stopped giving you the bulk discount three months ago. Then they started charging you for smaller bottles."

"Ah." He folded the bill and stuck it in a pocket. He'd call them later to complain. "And the rest?"

"Fine," She murmured, yawning. "I'm tired."

"Why don't you." He stopped when he realized that sending her to bed meant going through the lobby.and all that gore, obviously inhuman though it was, would do nothing good for her shaky hold on sanity. "listen to some music while I get the bar ready for tonight?"

Willow nodded and moved off toward the stage. Before long Caritas was filled with yet another round of sad, depressing music-Willow's perennial favorite these days. It didn't bother Lorne very much; at least she was interacting with the world and not just drooling in a corner. Her therapy had done more for her than anyone could have predicted. In less than a month, the young witch had gone from catatonic to semi-functional. She was taking care of herself now, from eating and bathing to walking around, and she'd even begun to verbally communicate with her friends again. Of course, she still needed a lot of guidance, but all in all she was very much improved.

From his place behind the bar, Lorne could hear Buffy and dawn cleaning up the lobby. From what he could tell, it wasn't going to be easy. The gore was drying out, leaving a gummy, gluey residue. He really hoped they got it back to normal before the club opened. Nothing turned away customers like a foul mess.

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"Clorox?"

"No."

"Kerosene?"

"No."

"Vinegar?"

"No."

"Ammonia? Detergent? Piss?"

"No, no, and yuck." Dawn looked up at her sister, who was trying to run her hands through gore-caked hair. "What haven't we tried?"

"Peanut butter, oil, and transmission fluid?" Buffy tried desperately. They were the only three things left in the kitchen they hadn't opened and thrown at the gunk in the lobby.

Dawn thought for a moment. Which one would work. "Oil first. Transmission fluid's bad for you, and the only peanut butter we've got is chunky.and that would be so gross."

Buffy nodded her agreement and clomped her way back to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with several spray bottles, a turkey baster and a three gallon tub of cooking oil. "Before you ask, no I don't know why Angel has this much oil."

"Nor do I," Dawn murmured. "But it's worth a shot."

Buffy prized off the tub's lid and used the turkey baster to draw up some of the fluid. She then dropped it onto the slime at Dawn's feet, silently praying that canola was the key.

"Fuck!" Dawn scrambled back, landing squat in a big pile of gummy stuff. The oil was definitely doing something-something that involved a little smoke and some bright pink sparks. "I don't know if it's working, but it's doing something."

Once the light show died down, Buffy bent over to examine the oil's performance. Much to her surprise, all she found was a dusting of ash-the oil had burned away all traces of the gore. "I think we have a winner."

"Canola oil?" Dawn asked disbelievingly. "You have got to be kidding."

"And it makes pretty pink sparks," Buffy reminded her. The Slayer stood up and began to fill spray bottles with cooking oil. "I recommend a light coating-just enough to burn the stuff off. I'm afraid that if we use too much we'll be stuck washing oil off of everything."

"And we get to take cooking oil baths after this, don't we?" Dawn inquired as she took a spray bottle. "And nobody to share it with."

"You're too young anyway," Buffy groused as she capped off the oil. "Let's get going. If we don't get this done soon, Lorne's going to throw a fit."

Dawn grinned and began spraying. "Buffy, one thought. If this is an ex..ex..exothermic reaction, what's it going to do to us when we use it on ourselves?"

"Not thinking about it," Buffy replied hastily. "Just spray."

The lobby was soon brightened by a pink sparkle-and-smoke light show as the two girls furiously sprayed every surface with cooking oil. Much to their dismay, the smoke smelled like lobster-an odor neither of them really wanted clinging to the lobby or themselves. Oh well, it was better than chunky slime. The job didn't take very long once they got started, so within half an hour they were ready to go upstairs and try out their solution on themselves.

"If it hurts, stop and we'll figure out something else," Buffy warned as they climbed the stairs.

"Oh yeah, as if I'm going to keep squirting something that sets me on fire," Dawn retorted.

"Brat."

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"I smell lobster," Lorne remarked as Buffy sat down at the bar.

"Side effect of mixing canola oil and demon gore," Buffy replied with a grimace. "It should go away soon. I hope."

"It's not that bad," Lorne offered as a consolation. "After all, you could have smelled like-"

"Don't say it," Buffy warned. "Just give me something to drink. Please."

Lorne grinned and handed her a coke. Buffy sipped it and looked around the club. "Where's Willow?"

"In my office, resting. I didn't think it would be good to send her through the lobby," Lorne replied quietly.

"Point. We're done now, so I can take her up to bed if you want," Buffy replied. She was very grateful that Lorne had taken such an active interest in helping them, particularly Willow. His assistance with Dawn was great too. "By the way, thanks for helping Dawn with her homework." Buffy wasn't the least bit upset that her little sister preferred the demon's help to her own-she was no brainiac when it came to school work. That was more Willow's area, and right now the witch was out of commission.

"It's no problem. Willow's got another therapy session tomorrow morning at nine," Lorne reminded the Slayer. "I can take her if you've got business."

"Really?" Buffy asked. "I've got one of Angel's cases scheduled in the morning. Something about a rat-demon infestation."

Lorne made a face. "I hate those things. Have you heard from the guys in London?"

"Just an e-mail from Xander. They were supposed to be implementing whatever plan they've come up with in the next day or so, so we won't be hearing from them for a while."

"Does that mean they're coming back soon?"

Buffy shook her head. "I can't tell. Cordy's visions aren't coming very often, and from what I can tell Xander's are still set in London. They'll come home whenever they want, I suppose."

"Maybe they're afraid to," Lorne said lightly. "After all, it took all eight of them to run this place, but you're doing just as well by yourself."

"Thanks," Buffy said quietly. The truth was, she enjoyed the work, backbreaking though it was. With Lorne and Dawn's help, she was keeping Angel investigations afloat, taking care of Cordelia's visions, and managing to do a bit of traditional slaying on the side. While she missed having others around, for emotional support if nothing else, she wasn't really looking forward to the others' return. With that would come tension between her and Angel, her and Wil, and a host of little annoyances.a Cordelia she wasn't used to dealing with, a demonic Xander who wasn't straight.the list kept going on and on. The truth was, she wasn't sure she could stay in the same place as Angel's group. Then again, she didn't have a lot of other options. Sunnydale was most definitely not going to happen.

Lorne watched as Buffy sank into a minor funk. He could tell that she wasn't looking forward to Angel coming back, and that troubled him. From what he could tell about Slayers, they weren't very good at working in teams. Buffy, however, seemed to have adapted to the more effective method of fighting. The only problem was all the tension and conflict she brought into Angel's group. She had some sort of problem with every member.well, he couldn't think of any reason why Buffy would be upset with Gunn, but he was also sure she'd think of something.

The green demon really liked the Slayer-she had they type of style and strength he admired. Actually, she reminded him a bit of a low-key, understated Cordelia, although he'd never admit it. If pressed, though, he'd admit that he liked the less abrasive Slayer more than the outspoken seer. More than once he'd caught himself wanting to ask her out for drinks, a humorous thought considering the type of establishment he ran. While he was interested enough to keep that idea in mind, now was no time to start that kind of thing. Buffy was consumed by her duties, and he'd promised Angel he'd help her with them, not add to her burdens. That was why he was recruiting muscle to assist her instead of taking her out for dinner.

���...�...�...�...���

Dawn was just climbing into bed when the phone rang. She let it go for three rings before deciding that Buffy couldn't hear it. After all, most calls were for the Slayer, not for her kid sister.

"Hello?"

"Dawn?" Wil said, surprised to hear the teenager's voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Wil. How's London?" Dawn asked as she settled back on the bed. She hadn't heard from them in a while and wanted an update.

"Tiring," He replied, not wanting to get into the nasty details of their recent maneuvers. "What's been going on in L.A.?"

"Same ol', same ol'. Haven't you been getting the e-mails?"

"Yeah, but they leave out a lot," Wil commented.

"Well, everyone's fine here. Although I do have a question.why does Angel have three gallons of canola oil in the kitchen?" A short, stifled laugh, followed by a brief pause answered her. "Seriously, why? We used it to take care of some demon guts today, and I can't help but wonder."

"Cooking," Wil replied in a choked voice.

"Erm.blood?"

"No, for Fred. She went through a 'deep-fry' everything phase some time back," Wil replied. "She even tried to make a blood-batter, but it didn't make it past the experimental stage."

"Thank gods," Dawn mumbled. The very idea. "So, when are you guys coming home?"

"That's why I called. We're about done over here, so we're planning to fly back late next week."

"Great!" She'd missed them-Wil especially. He hadn't been there when she and Buffy had shown up at Angel's doorstep, so she hadn't seen him in ages, and he was the coolest of all of them. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Tell Buffy ahead of time," Wil replied lightly. "That's about it. We're swamped here with getting ready to leave, so we probably won't call again."

"How did your thing go?"

"It worked," Wil said quickly. "So we need to get back to L.A.."

"Oh," Dawn replied, sensing that he wasn't happy with things in London. She just hoped it wasn't because of Buffy being around. "Well, then, I'll pass on the message. Can't wait to see you?"

Once Wil had ended the call, Dawn crawled under the covers and tried to get comfortable. She couldn't wait for them to get back, even if they brought with them the possibility of some memorable vampire-Slayer verbal battles.

*****
Part 55:

Wil was coaxed out of his much-needed rest by pleasure. The blonde's mind wanted to ignore the sensations coursing through his body but failed miserably as said body arched into the hands caressing it. A grumble and a sigh later, Wil pried his eyes open. Angel greeted him with an evil grin and a kiss.

"You do realize what time it is, and how late we got in, and how much sleep-" Wil's halfhearted tirade against his lover quickly turned into a moan as the dark vampire bent down and fastened his lips around one pale nipple, sucking hard.

"You were saying?" Angel commented a moment later. Wil shook his head and glared at him. "I was simply stating that between our rigorous travel schedule and other such uncontrollable events, both of us should be-"

Once again Wil was interrupted by Angel, this time as his Sire started stroking the blonde's erection with a firm, even grip. Wil gave up trying to berate him and stretched out on his back. If Angel was determined to fool around at the ungodly hour of two in the afternoon, he'd just have to enjoy it.

Angel smiled at Wil's capitulation. He continued stroking the younger vampire, enjoying the sighs and whimpers he elicited. After a few minute he stopped, ignoring Wil's protestations. Those complaints became murmurs of lust as Angel draped himself over the blonde and sealed their mouths together. As always, Wil tasted like love-pure and warm despite the coldness of his mouth, spicy with blood and hope. Angel flicked his tongue along the points of Wil's fangs, drawing tiny droplets of blood to the surface. Wil responded by swiping the fluid away, relishing the essence of his sire. Graceful, strong hands reached up to play in Angel's hair and pull him closer as their tongues mated and danced.

Of course, kissing didn't satisfy all of Angel's needs. Eventually he grew restless and brought one hand lower to stroke and caress Wil's torso and thigh, making the blonde hiss. Wil's body tensed and relaxed, molding itself to Angel's as he shifted his legs apart, making room for Angel between them. Angel murmured his approval and moved down Wil's body, pressing kisses here and there.

Wil kept his eyes shut against the dim light of the bedroom, reveling in the slow progression of Angel's lovemaking. He'd missed their slow, lazy sessions, where they spent hours touching and tasting before finally coming together. In London sex seemed to be frantic, panicked and rushed, as though they feared someone might walk in and tear them apart. The negative emotions soured their passion and they spent less time together than they would have under other circumstances.

The blonde thought that the location itself had something to do with it, though. Los Angeles held its share of problems-one of which was residing in a room just one floor above them. But despite Buffy's presence, and all the other hassles of life in L.A., things were better here. The two vampires hadn't been back twelve hours and already Wil could tell that much of the angst between them was gone. Angel's hands felt different here; there was less grasping and more holding, fewer growls and more sighs.

Angel sensed that Wil's mind had wandered off and smirked. There were several ways to rectify that, most of them painful. However, Angel wasn't in the mood to hurt his childe, so instead of biting or pinching, he gave the swollen head of Wil's cock a single, broad stroke with his tongue. The response he got was gratifying. Wil's eyes shot open and his body convulsed. He liked that so well Angel decided to do it again, painting moist stripes all along Wil's erection, paying special attention to the sensitive underside and head. When Wil tried to reach for him, Angel pressed his hands down onto the mattress. One firm look kept them there.

How long had it been since Angel had tortured him so sweetly? Wil's mind tried to grasp onto a coherent thought as Angel consumed him like a flesh-and-blood confection. If only his blasted Sire would let those lips touch him, close around him-apply even the merest hint of pressure. But no, Angel seemed content to lave his flesh using just his strong tongue. The dark vampire had removed all other points of contact, bearing his weight on his arms as he suspended himself over Wil. The blonde couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Angel's tongue as it wrapped around him, only to slide away before returning.

Wil was so focused on what Angel was doing to him he didn't notice the dark vampire reaching behind himself. Angel's torture of Wil barely faltered as he slowly opened himself, slicking lube inside his hole. There was no rush; Wil, while he was obviously enjoying Angel's ministrations, was nowhere near release.

When Angel suddenly stopped touching him altogether, Wil's gaze shifted. He watched curiously as Angel moved back up his body until they were face to face once again. "Sire," He whispered, leaning up to kiss his lover. Angel smiled and accepted the soft kiss, as well as the hands that circled around to his back. As he kissed Wil, Angel positioned himself and sank down onto Wil's straining cock. "Angel-"

"Sh," Angel murmured, soothing the shocked vampire under him, Wil relaxed a bit and moved his hands down to Angel's hips. The older vampire began a slow, smooth rolling movement, guided by Wil's hands. As their bodies joined and separated, the two lovers nipped and licked, kissed and bit. Wil reached around and began to fist Angel in time with his own thrusts, an action that was rewarded by a low moan. Angel's head dropped down to Wil's shoulder and they both began to move faster, spurred on by the seething pressure in their bodies.

Wil felt it first, a white-hot tendril slithering and knotting low in his belly. He thrust up hard into Angel again and again, breaking their slow rhythm. Angel gasped and moved faster, gripping Wil's shoulders tightly as pleasure overwhelmed him. He tightened around Wil's shaft as his vision faded and his climax tore through him. He dimly felt Wil arch and freeze as his release followed just after.

Angel roused enough to move off Wil and collapse to one side, an arm and a leg still draped over the younger vampire. Wil used his free leg to hook the bedclothes and drag them up. Angel helped him cover their bodies as they arranged themselves for the rest of the day. The blonde burrowed his head into Angel's shoulder, whispering softly. "Love you."

"And I you," Angel replied sleepily.

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When Wil woke for the second time that day, the sun was setting and he felt considerably better about getting up. Angel was still sound asleep, so Wil took a quick, quiet shower and got dressed silently. He swung by the kitchen for some dinner, grateful that Dawn had reminded Lorne to stock up before their return. Once he'd polished off one mug and had another warmed, the blonde ascended the stairs to the office.

The rest of the investigators were already up and at work when he arrived. Cordelia and Fred were running around the main office, fixing everything that Buffy had messed up during their absence. Actually, she hadn't done anything wrong, but the seer had a very specific way she liked the office set up, and nothing else would do. Fred just smiled and played along, carting around files and staplers and crosses with aplomb.

"Anything new and exciting?" Wil inquired, looking over at Wesley, Xander and Oz. The three men were stationed in front of a trio of computers, typing and arguing.

"Nah, just updating some files and finishing up those reports Queen C wanted," Xander replied. "Angel up yet?"

"No," Wil told him. "Still sleeping."

"Figures. There's work to be done. I mean, where else would he be, actually helping out?" Cordelia muttered as she thrust another pile of papers into Fred's arms.

Wil shrugged and went to his desk. As he'd feared there was a large stack of paperwork and mail to be sorted and glared at. With a long-suffering sigh he sat down and got to work. There were numerous bills related to their London excursion to take care of and it looked as though Cordelia had assigned him to deal with the mess. The blonde booted up his computer and picked up a letter opener, wishing he was still in bed.

When Angel showed up an hour later, he found a frustrated Wil fuming at his computer screen. On the other side of the room, Cordelia was arguing with Xander, Wesley and Oz. Fred had taken up a defensive position behind her own desk and was trying to avoid getting drawn into the fray. "Where's Gunn?" Angel asked innocently.

Cordelia's head whipped around. The werewolf was a bit closer to the surface than Angel would've liked. "Out."

"Oh," He murmured. "So, how goes it?"

"Great. That's it, I'm gone," Wil snarled, shutting off his computer. Even as he got up to leave Cordelia and the guys were winding up to explain their situation with Angel. He'd heard it all before-the four of them couldn't decide on how to format the case file for the London operation, and they couldn't agree upon where to go with their knowledge of Wolfram & Hart's activities. He didn't need to hear it again, and was quite sure he'd go insane if he did. "Why didn't I beg Rupert to let me stay with him?" Wil asked himself. Giles had gone back to Bath after they finished up in London, although he was maintaining contact with the Watcher's Council.

"You're abandoning me?" Angel asked Wil as the blonde slunk out the door.

"Yes. I'll be at Caritas," Wil growled as he hit the stairs. Angel made to follow him but was pulled back into the office by Cordelia. This was going to be a very long night.

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"Lorne," Wil said as he slid onto a barstool. The green demon waved a greeting and slid a drink in front of the vampire.

"I didn't expect to see you here so soon," Lorne commented as Wil sipped his drink.

"The kids are at it again," Wil replied with a grimace. "I don't need to hear it a second time. Or a third time."

"Ah. Well, since I didn't get to say it before, it's good to have you back."

Wil smiled. "Thanks. It's good to be back. I missed this place."

"Right," Lorne muttered.

Wil looked around the club. It wasn't a busy night, just a few demons here and there nursing their drinks. "How's Dawn doing?" He had seen her only briefly before collapsing into bed when they'd arrived from London, and she was asleep now.

"Oh, she's doing very well here," Lorne replied. "According to Buffy, she's actually going to school and helping out around the hotel."

"'M not surprised," Wil murmured.

"No?"

The blonde shrugged. "Change of environment. L.A.'s not the safest town, or the most conducive to happy living, but it's a damned sight better than Sunnydale. Besides, there isn't as much here to remind Dawn of her mother, or Tara."

"I see your point. Willow's improvement has been good for her has well," Lorne mentioned. "She even goes to therapy with her once in a while."

"Probably even better for the witch," Wil said after a moment. "And Buffy?"

Lorne looked at the vampire in surprise. He hadn't expected Wil to be the least bit interested in the Slayer's welfare, given their previous relationship. "She's adjusting well, although it did take a little while. Buffy's more resilient than you give her credit for."

"I don't want her presence to interfere with our work," Wil replied firmly. "And you know she could."

"But I don't think she wants to," Lorne stated. "She's not going to want to stay here forever, either. She may be moving past a lot of things, but living with you and Angel, and the others, isn't ever going to sit well with her."

"I didn't expect her to stay for very long," Wil said. "I'm not sure she should. I also know, though, that she could help out around here."

"Good to hear. So, how's Angel doing?" Lorne inquired, changing the subject.

"He's fine. We're all fine," Wil replied quickly. He ignored Lorne's raised eyebrow. The truth was that no one who'd been in London was completely fine. All of them questioned the wisdom of their plan of attack, since they'd been uniformly horrified with the outcome. It had made them all stop and think, and one of the end results of those ruminations had been a low-grade anxious depression. They were fighting it off and doing alright, but it wasn't an overnight recovery. Getting back to Los Angeles helped quite a bit, and Wil was sure that once business picked up-both vision and non-vision related, they'd all be back to their normal selves.

"So, are you singing for me tonight?" Lorne asked the blonde. Wil drained his glass and shook his head negatively.

"No way. I'm gonna go rescue Angel and see what's going on with the gang."

*****
Part 56:

"Where to first?" Fred asked as she parked Wes's SUV at the mall. She and Cordy were spending their first free day since getting back home shopping. It was their way of bonding. After the events of London, everyone felt a bit disjointed.

Cordelia thought for a moment. "Hmm.let's go to that little jewelry boutique near the food court."

They were almost to the door when a car came to a screeching halt beside them. Even as they turned, demons poured out of the car. With nary a whimper, the two women were bound and thrown into the car, which sped away. There were no witnesses.

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"I can't believe you gave them the day off-at the same time," Xander whined to Wesley. "They're gonna shop all day, and then come back and make us look at everything they bought."

"Just because you don't like looking at lingerie doesn't mean we don't," Gunn replied, not looking up from his magazine. "Besides, I thought you promised to run over to that supply shop for Fred while Oz ran errands for Angel."

Xander rolled his eyes and stood. "So I did. Anybody else want anything while I'm out playing gopher?" When no one responded, Xander turned to leave. It was a nice, sunny day, so he really shouldn't be complaining. In fact, it was pleasant enough that the Raphe decided to walk.

He hadn't gotten but three blocks from the hotel when something started niggling at his senses. He turned to look, but nothing was there.nothing more than a few other pedestrians and a bunch of cars on the road. Shrugging, Xander resumed his walking. A minute later, the sensation came back-he was being watched. Watched and followed. Shaking off his worry, Xander sped up, crossing against the light and taking off at a jog. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

The growl at his shoulder told him otherwise.

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Oz stared down at the engine compartment of his van and swore silently. He was sure he'd fixed all the shorts, all the frayed wires and old clamps. Apparently not, if the mess he was looking at could be trusted. There was no way the old clunker was going to make it back to the hotel. He felt around for his cell phone before remembering that it was still on the dresser. Oh well. He could either catch a cab or walk.

As he walked home, Oz thought about what was bothering him. Things had been unusually quiet since they'd gotten back two weeks ago. There'd been a vision here and there, and some minor side jobs. Wolfram & Hart had been unusually subdued, though. Actually, it had been kind of boring without their antics.

The werewolf looked up when he heard a car driving way too fast toward him. As it passed, he looked in the window-and saw a frantic Cordelia pressed against the glass. Cordelia? Oz turned and started running towards the car. He couldn't hope to catch it, but he watched where it went, hoping to be able to follow eventually.

/I'm never, ever thinking the word boring again./

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Gunn was just about to go down to the kitchen for a snack when the power flickered, then went out. "Is Lorne working on the club again?" He asked Wesley.

"No, not that I recall," Wesley replied. "Perhaps a circuit breaker tripped." He got up to join Gunn and the pair went downstairs. While Gunn checked out the lobby, Wesley retrieved a flashlight and went into the basement to look at the circuits.

"Oh my," Wesley whispered. Standing next to the destroyed breaker box were two dozen Zcer demons.

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Wil rolled over on top of Angel. It was far too early for him to be awake. "Go back to sleep, childe," Angel murmured, patting Wil's head.

"Sorry. Something woke me."

"What?" Angel asked quietly, coming closer to consciousness.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Listen," Wil ordered.

"I don't hear anything," Angel said. He listened closer. Actually, he didn't hear anything. Anything at all-not even the normal background hum of electricity swirling through the walls. "Is the power out?"

Wil looked at the bedside clock. "Yeah."

"I guess we should go downstairs then," Angel groaned, getting out of bed. Wil followed him, looking for clothes. He was almost dressed when an inhumanly high scream froze him in place.

"Wesley."

Angel followed Wil down the hall at a dead run.

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Cordelia struggled against the demons holding her down. She wasn't sure what she was trying to accomplish, since she was both bound and gagged in a quickly moving automobile, but it didn't seem right not to fight. Fred must have felt the same way because the young woman was also twisting and kicking with all her might. The werewolf was doing her best to ignore the intense fear that tried to paralyze her; these demons were strong, massive creatures that far outweighed her. If she couldn't make a dent in them, Fred didn't stand a chance.

The car made a sudden left-hand turn, cracking Cordelia's head against the door. She moaned and blinked, trying to clear her vision. Fred used the jarring motion to catch her gag against one of the demon's spiny arms. The cloth material was torn away and the quiet of the car's interior was shattered by Fred's screaming.

"Let me go!" Fred screamed as she kicked and bit. The biting didn't last long because the demons tasted horrible. She was more than a little indignant that her best efforts didn't even frustrate the demons. They just reached out occasionally and swatted her, which invariably broke something. So far she had a concussion and a broken hand, and she suspected they'd cracked several ribs.

The car slowed to a stop, but that didn't make Cordelia feel any better. The demons opened the car doors and pitched the girls out hard onto the concrete floor of a warehouse. Cordelia flipped onto her back, only to find herself surrounded by more of the demons. They crowded around her, grinning evilly. Fred, too, was surrounded, and suffering, if her yells and shouts were to be believed.

Much to her surprise, Cordelia's bindings were released. She jumped up to fight. Before she could land her first punishing blow, a mind-shattering pain ripped through her head. /Now? And what's with the pain? My visions--/ Her thoughts were interrupted by another vision, quickly followed by another. It was like the time Wolfram & Hart had tortured her, only far worse. She fell to her knees as the vivid images of blood and death and decay kept coming faster and faster. The visions were so strong she barely felt hands on her until they demons had almost finished ripping her clothes off. Fear and rage battled the pain in her mind. She tried to control them, and the visions, but felt her tenuous grasp slip. The wolf howled and snapped, trying to escape. Cordelia couldn't keep up with everything that bombarded her and she felt her mind crack.

Fred hissed as one of the demons banged into her ribs. There were several kinds, all dancing around her, taunting. Some she recognized-Fyarl, Zcer, Hacksaw. Others she didn't, which only made her more frightened. They yelled and snarled, poking and prodding. One grabbed her shirt, tearing it off. At that point Fred knew what they planned and dug within herself for more strength. There was no way they were getting their hands on her. She tried to get up, now that her bonds had been broken. As soon as she gained her feet, another demon kicked her hard in the kidneys and she went down again. Then they were on her.

The young woman tried to fend them off, but they kept slapping, hitting and pulling. She felt her left shoulder pop out of it's socket, even as another crushed her right foot. They dragged her over the rough concrete floor, ripping the skin of her back to shreds. She screamed in pain-until one of them backhanded her. The blow cut her tongue on her teeth and her mouth quickly filled with blood. She spat it out, only to be accosted by a demon that licked the fluid away, biting at her face. Two demons grabbed her legs, pulling them apart. "No, no, no, no, no." Fred moaned, twisting and straining to get away. Her vision dimmed when the first touched her. In an effort to keep from passing out she pushed herself further back into her mind, returning to the cave she'd built there when she was stuck on Pylea. By the time the second demon was finished, she was oblivious.

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Wesley screamed high as one of the Zcer demons grabbed him. They were far stronger than fauns and he knew he stood no chance. They swarmed around him and he was swept along as they ran upstairs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gunn go down under three of the huge, scaly demons. One of the things punched him hard in the stomach and he collapsed. They let him fall onto the lobby floor, where they began to kick him viciously.

The next thing he heard was the roar of an outraged demon as someone removed hit's arm, which landed right in front of Wesley's face. He looked up to see Angel and Wil, both only partly dressed, battling the throng. They were wielding long swords against the Zcer demons, who were trying to back the vampires into a corner. The faun struggled to his feet, despite the pain in his torso, and tried to reach Gunn. The human was bleeding but still conscious. Two Zcer intercepted Wesley, but he feinted right and ran left, ducking behind the counter. He grabbed a long dagger and Gunn's axe, hoping to be able to get it to the vampire hunter.

Wil saw Wesley run behind the counter, but was distracted by his opponents. Zcer demons were massive and strong, but weren't good at organized attacks. They mostly used numbers and brute strength. He and Angel hacked and sliced through them, going for major wounds instead of kills. It didn't matter if they were dead or not, so long as they couldn't fight.

Wesley managed to make it over to Gunn, who was getting pummeled. The ex-Watcher used his dagger to slice a deep gash into one demon's side, giving him enough time to pass the axe over to Gunn. The larger man took the weapon and went after the demons with a vengeance, beheading two in quick succession. Then he noticed the vampires' technique and started aiming for limbs. The Zcer didn't seem to like fighting once they'd lost an arm or leg. Once enough were down, they'd finish them all off.

Much to Wesley's relief, the tide soon turned against the Zcer demons, although all of them were sustaining heavy damage. Both Wil and Angel were covered in blood, and Wil's right arm was hanging at an odd angle. Wesley knew he had broken ribs and probably a fractured hip. Gunn, too, looked rather bad off.

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Oz caught sight of the car just as it pulled into a warehouse about half a mile away. He ran faster, panting, afraid of what he might find, afraid for his beta and his friend. A feral howl stopped him dead. He knew that sound-it was Cordelia. That realization spurred him back into action. He reached the warehouse and ran inside, only to be confronted by six demons, covered in blood and gods knew what else.

The normally placid werewolf glanced quickly at Cordelia, who'd wolfed out at some point and was surrounded by demons. She'd done significant damage and the demons were keeping their distance. Oz's attention was drawn back to the ones near him as they got bolder and began to strike. At first he wasn't sure if they were in it for pain or death. After a couple more minutes, though, he knew they wanted him, and the girls, dead.

The demons swarmed him as one, dragging him down to the floor. He let the wolf go in self-defense, knowing he stood a better chance of surviving and helping the others if he fought that way. The demons were certainly easier to defeat in that form, as he bit and clawed his way out from under them.

Meanwhile Cordelia took down yet another demon. The werewolf made note of their lack of skill in fighting her kind; they didn't protect their necks well enough and she had no trouble grabbing that weak spot and breaking their spines. She smelled blood and sex off to one side and ran over, seeing Fred surrounded by a group of howling demons. She immediately attacked, pulling them off the girl. Fred didn't move, which bothered the wolf. Her pack-mate needed to get away, or she'd die from those wounds. Cordelia brought down three more demons before going to aid the girl. The werewolf grabbed her by the forearm and dragged her nearer to Oz, who was almost free of his own attackers. She was infinitely grateful for her alpha's appearance, although she wasn't sure where he'd come from.

*****