*****

Giles:

Following the exhilaration of Angel's tale, Giles had been unable to sleep until well after dawn. He woke at nearly 5:00 p.m. in the same position he'd fallen asleep in, limbs heavy and achy from lack of circulation. Bones cracking as he stretched, he got out of bed carefully and went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

Darkness fell early in the Southern California winter and he stood looking out the kitchen window at the last of the twilight while the kettle heated. When the water began to boil, he scooped three large spoonfuls of black tea into his favorite pot then reached for the softly hissing kettle.

Her eyes appeared suddenly outside-large, almond-shaped, indigo. Smooth black hair arranged in big curls at the ends, flawless porcelain skin and lips painted in crimson perfection. He could only see her from the shoulders up as she was standing outside the closed kitchen window.

For a moment, Giles wasn't positive he really WAS seeing her. He blinked and she was still there, her image a bit muted by the closed glass. He blinked again and she remained, but her expression had changed ever so slightly. Her chin was tilted a smidgen to the right and her beautiful eyes regarded him with fervent curiosity.

The kettle still dangling by its handle from his fingers, Giles swallowed and his heart began to hammer in his chest. He had been certain Drusilla and Spike were killed in that church. They had all been certain-even though they had seen no actual bodies. Clearly, they were mistaken. In light of their failure, Drusilla would have only one reason for stopping by that night.

They stared at each other through the window and then Drusilla's lips began to move. She mouthed the words "let me in".

Momentarily unable to move, Giles took a deep breath to clear his head. "No," he said out loud, looking right into those hypnotic eyes. God, they were wonderful. Kaleidoscopes of blue and black.

Drusilla reached forward with her thin, pale hand and scratched her long fingernails against the glass, causing a horrible shrill screech. Again, she mouthed those words and again Giles said no.

"Go away," he told her. "You couldn't be LESS invited."

Her perfect lips turned up in the tiniest of smiles and she scraped her nails on the glass again. She said his name but Giles could not be sure he'd heard any real sound. He couldn't stop staring at her. He didn't even mind that awful squeaking on the window glass anymore. He felt like he might loose control of his bladder if he didn't look away. She was so very lovely . . . His entire body began to hum.

And then everything went dark and Giles felt the pressure of cool fingers cover his eyes. He felt himself pulled back against the taut body of another male and real fear paralyzed him until he heard the intruder speak.

"Don't look at her," Angel said. "Turn around and walk into the other room." He released Giles and helped him turn himself toward the kitchen doorway. Angel took the kettle out of his hand. "Go," he said. "Into the living room and sit down. Don't look at her again, Rupert. I mean it."

In a daze, Giles moved one foot in front of the other until he found himself at his couch. He flopped into the cushions and then covered his eyes with his hands, just in case. From the darkness behind his eyelids, he heard Angel open the kitchen window.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" he said to Drusilla. "What do you want here?"

"Let me in," she purred. "I can still feel your blood coursing through my veins, my angel. Please let me in. I want some more."

"It's not my house, baby. You know I can't. Besides, you got enough of my blood at that church. And I can still feel those holy water burns. That was very naughty of you. Why don't you run along."

She was quiet for a long moment, then she said "come to us, then. Come and give my boy what he needs. You know I'm not strong enough to heal him. Besides . . . I want you to see my presents."

Angel said nothing and then Giles heard the trees rustling outside the window. There was no sound at all for so long, that he finally couldn't resist taking a look.

Standing motionless in front of the open window, the vampire gazed out at the fresh darkness. Drusilla appeared to be gone, but Giles wanted to be sure.

"Is she . . ?"

After another ageless pause, Angel closed the window again. "Yeah," he said. "For now, anyway." He picked up the kettle and poured the boiling water into the prepared teapot. "How do you take it?" he asked. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Straight up," Giles said. "Thank you."

Carrying the pot and a cup into the living room, Angel set them both on the coffee table before he sat down. They had switched positions from the night before and Angel's large frame made the chair look slightly insubstantial. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," Giles said, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "I'm a bit muddled, but I believe I'll recover."

"I got here just in time," Angel said, smiling a little. "You were goin' down, my friend."

Breathing a self-deprecating laugh, Giles said "yes, well . . . thank you. She is quite . . . mesmerizing, isn't she?"

"Always was."

Reaching for the pot, Giles poured some of the tea into the cup. It hadn't quite brewed long enough yet, but he wanted to drink it anyway. He needed something to steady his nerves. "We . . . thought we'd killed them," he said. "Did you know they were alive?"

Angel looked down. "I didn't know for sure until right now. But I had a feeling. A sense. I guess I knew on some level, but I wasn't acknowledging it."

"Did she tell you why she came here?" Giles asked, hoping his hands weren't shaking too badly as he raised the cup to his lips.

"Why do you think?" Angel said.

"Right," Giles frowned. "Of course. Revenge. Then why didn't Spike come, as well?" Suddenly realizing the obvious, he gaped wide-eyed out the living room window. "Or, did he?"

"No," Angel said decisively. "It was just her." He looked out the living room window as well and seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he closed his eyes as though he were meditating. "He couldn't come," he said finally. "Apparently he's injured."

Giles squinted. "Is he? Do you know in what way?"

Laughing bitterly, Angel said "I might have been a little out of it when all that was going down, but I do remember Buffy throwing a pipe organ at them. My guess is that Spike came away with a few broken bones. Those take much longer to regenerate than cuts and bruises. Months, sometimes, depending on the extent of the damage."

"I see." Giles sipped his tea, his mind racing with possibilities of how Spike had been injured. Was he temporarily out of commission? Was he crypt-ridden? It seemed he would be terribly easy to kill if he were.

"I'd leave him be for now," Angel said presciently. He stood up again and walked toward the breakfast bar where he took hold of a full bottle of whiskey there. Handing it to Giles, he said, "I've had this for a while. 30-year-old Jameson's. I thought you might enjoy it."

"Oh," Giles looked at the bottle with mild awe, knowing such a libation was quite pricey. "My goodness. Thank you. That's very kind."

"My pleasure," the vampire said. "I wanted to bring you something to say thanks . . . for listening and everything."

Again, guilt panged through Giles' body and he found himself unable to meet Angel's eyes. "Well, it wasn't necessary. Like I said, I am very interested in your story. I hope you've come back this evening because you're planning to go on-not just to rescue me from imminent death."

Going back to the kitchen, Angel found the cupboard where Giles kept his clean glasses and brought two back to the living room. He opened the bottle of Jameson's with a sweet crack of the seal and poured for them both.

"Whenever you're ready," he said, nodding to Giles' cup of tea. "I know you just got up." Angel smirked. "In fact, so did I."

Giles finished his first cup, finally feeling that strange fog clear from his head. The tea was helping and he planned to make some toast soon because he hadn't eaten in hours. But the Jameson's smelled amazing, crisp and woody. He looked forward to tasting it. But first, he had responsibilities to see to.

"I must tell Buffy about Drusilla," he said.

Angel's handsome face clouded slightly. "She's been having dreams about Dru," he said softly. "I told her not to worry about it, but I guess I was wrong."

"Yes," Giles said. "Buffy's dreams have a rather dreadful tendency to come true. You'd best watch yourself out there. I'm sure they see you as allied with us and will take appropriate action if they find you alone. After all . . . it was their intention to kill you before."

Angel only nodded.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to call her right away." Giles walked over to the phone on his desk and pressed the speed-dial code for the slayer's number. After a moment, she answered in her usual bright tone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Buffy, it's me. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Oh, God," she said, far too seriously. She took most things too seriously these days. Being in love makes one overreact to just about everything-but especially to things that concerned the loved one. "It's not Angel, is it?"

"No, no," he said. "Angel's fine."

The vampire looked back at him and shook his head, indicating he did not want Giles to tell her he was there.

"Er, as far as I know," he stammered. "But I had a visit from Drusilla a moment ago. Apparently we weren't as successful at the church as we might have hoped."

Buffy was silent for a long time. "I knew it," she whispered. "God. Did she try anything?"

"She tried to get in," he explained. "I'm assuming she planned to kill me. But clearly she was unable. Alas, she buggered off but I think it's safe to say that where there is Drusilla, there is Spike."

"I guess the organ wasn't heavy enough," Buffy muttered. "Go figure. I wonder why he didn't show up, too."

"Well," Giles said, again glancing at Angel. "Perhaps he couldn't for whatever reason. I suspect it's very likely you injured him severely."

"Not severely enough. Be careful, Giles. I'll keep my eyes open, too, but . . ." Her tone changed to one of halting reluctance. "You don't want me to patrol tonight, do you?"

Giles smiled to himself. "I gather from your hesitation that you have something you would rather do this evening."

"Well," she hedged. "Now that you mention it. I sort of have a date, but not until later. Angel said he was doing something early in the evening and he'd meet me around 10:00. I guess I can do a quick patrol before, though. If . . . you think I need to."

"No, no," he said. "I think Drusilla's had her fun for tonight. I'll call you if anything comes up, though."

"Great," Buffy said. "Thanks for the head's up about our favorite dastardly duo. God, those two are like cockroaches."

"Indeed. I'll talk to you later. Goodbye." He set the phone down and went back to the couch where he poured himself the last of the tea in the pot. "You didn't tell her you were coming to see me?" he asked Angel. "I don't understand. Is it a secret?"

He shrugged. "If she knew I was here, she'd ask a bunch of questions about why . . . It's less complicated if she doesn't know we're talking. Especially with her birthday coming up. No need to freak her out unnecessarily."

Giles nodded, but inside he felt a cold sneaking suspicion. "I suppose you're right." He settled back again preparing to hear further tales of sex and gore from Angel's past, when he realized he was wearing the exact same clothing as last night. "Oh," he said, feeling his face heat up with blush. "Would you excuse me for another moment?"

"Of course."

Giles went down the hall to his bedroom and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a pullover. In the bathroom, he had a quick wash and brushed his teeth, then dragged a comb through his disheveled hair. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered what Drusilla could have seen in him a few moments ago. He was certainly no handsome prize when he first got out of bed. Not that one needed to be handsome to be killed by a vampire, but still . . . the way she'd looked at him had been decidedly come-hither. Remembering how he had felt under her hypnotic gaze made him shudder again. Angel had been right. He'd intervened at the last possible moment.

Before returning to his guest, Giles went back to the bedroom to close and lock the window.

*****
Part 2:

Spike:

Lying on his belly in the big unmade bed he shared with Dru at The Factory, he watched the door with keen interest. If his heart still worked, it would have been beating like mad about then.

The sounds out in the main room were indistinct and strange. It wasn't Dru; it wasn't one of their feckless minions. It didn't seem to be human, either. But from where he lay, he couldn't see around the wall to determine exactly who or what had infiltrated their hideout.

He waited, tuning his acute hearing to every little sound-listening for breath, heartbeat, footfalls, anything.

In the main room, there was a faint clicking sound that had even rhythm, like steps. But the sound was so soft and repeated four times, instead of two. He couldn't begin to guess what would make such a sound. And then he saw it.

A tiny gray kitten appeared in the bedroom doorway and froze when it saw Spike lying on the bed. They stared at each other, the kitten's glassy yellow eyes sharpening as its pupils narrowed to focus across the room.

"Bloody hell," Spike grumbled. "How the Christ did you get in here?"

"Isn't she scrumptious?" Drusilla said, crawling into the room behind the tiny creature. "I found her outside digging up the dirt near a fresh grave. I think she pooped in it." She snickered like a child and Spike couldn't help but smile.

"She's lovely, baby. But you scared the death out of me. Why didn't you say you were back?"

"Oh, my darling-I thought you heard me," she cooed apologetically. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. You're so vulnerable like this."

He tried not to flinch at her remark. It was true and he could not have hated it more.

Drusilla stood, gathering the kitten in her arms, and walked to the bed where she sat down gently. The kitten squirmed until it got free, then padded across the rumpled bed to Spike's side. That tiny pink nose touched his cold arm and the kitten recoiled slightly then moved forward again, exploring.

"I'm going to call her Gretel," Drusilla informed him.

"Why is that, luv?" Spike watched the little furball walk on fledgling legs over the uneven blankets and sheets and then sit beside his left shoulder. Its tiny paws sparkled with fine white hairs and beneath that he could see needle sharp claws that were barely retracted. That had been the source of the clicking sound on the floor.

"Because she was lost in the woods," Dru explained matter-of-factly. "I don't know where her brother is, though. Perhaps Angel got him."

Spike looked at her closely, feeling his skin tingle with gooseflesh. "Ducks?" he said. "Did you see Angel?"

"Yes," she whispered conspiratorially. "He's with the watcher. For the second night in a row." She leaned forward and lowered her voice even more. "He's telling tales of your pleasures, my sweet."

Frowning, Spike tried to sit up but winced from the pain in his crippled back. Reluctantly, he remained lying down. "Will you tell me what he's saying?"

Drusilla stroked the kitten's little gray ears and the tiny one looked at her lovingly. "You see, he needs to get it off his chest," she explained, her voice dripping with sympathy. "He's having dreams about it all. He misses you so much."

Spike laughed bitterly. "Pet, I'm deliriously sure that's not the case. If Angel is dishing the dirt about me to the watcher, he's doing it to help that insufferable slayer finish me off. He must know we're still here."

"Oh, he knows," Drusilla stated. "I told him just a little while ago."

Blinking in astonishment, then checking himself for being astonished by anything Drusilla ever said, Spike reached for his lover's hand. "You did what, sugar lips? You spoke to him tonight?"

"Of course," she said, taking the kitten into her arms again. "I went to see the watcher-that impotent little man. He wouldn't let me in! Angel stopped him from opening the window." She shook her head, scowling at the indignity of it all.

"Right," Spike said, urging her to continue. A slimy feeling slithered in the pit of his stomach but he knew better than to rush her when she was telling a story. One could only get all the pertinent details when Dru revealed them in her own time.

"Angel needs to talk to SOMEONE," she went on. "So he's talking to the slayer's keeper. It's quite sad, really. He should come talk to us. We understand."

Patiently, Spike said, "and the great poof is telling the watcher what?"

She held the kitten up and looked into its golden eyes. "He's talking about the Abbey and the boys in that alley in White Chapel. Angel misses you, Spike. It's so obvious. He's dreaming of touching you. He's dreaming of all the yummy kisses you gave him. That's what he's telling the watcher."

Sighing, Spike closed his eyes, hoping against hope that this was all some horrible nightmare. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned, wishing for the millionth time that night that he wasn't broken. Wishing he could just get up and go ram a stake into Angel's pathetic, soul-having, rosy little heart. Wishing he could do just that with the slayer chained to a wall helplessly looking on.

"Pet?" he said, turning to Drusilla again.

"Yes, my darling?"

"I want you to do something for me, all right?"

"Anything, my beautiful boy."

Spike motioned for her to lean down so he could whisper in her ear.

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

Giles:

When he returned, Angel was standing before the living room window with his hands clasped behind his back. That night the vampire was clad in black jeans and a soft-looking beige turtleneck-no doubt the touchable look was for Buffy's benefit. He smiled at Giles over his shoulder as the watcher sat down again.

"Coast is clear out there," Angel reported. "She went back to wherever Spike is. They have a specific energy when they're together. It makes a sound. I can hear it now."

"Their connection is so strong it has a frequency?" Giles asked, fascinated.

Nodding, Angel turned back to the chair and sat down again. "Yeah, it's almost a perfect E-minor." He settled back with his drink in hand and crossed his legs. "I don't know where they are," he said regretfully. "I'm guessing they're at The Factory, but I can't say for sure. I'd tell you."

"I know you would," Giles lied, but he put a sincere smile behind it to give it weight. "Right, then. If you're sure we won't be interrupted again, I would love for you to go on."

Angel sipped his drink and his eyes slid closed in pleasure. "Oh, you'll like this."

"Yes, I'm sure it's lovely. Okay, you had got to the end of that night-the first time Spike drank your blood."

"Yeah," Angel said. "But that wasn't the end of it, though. The stuff that happened after that is what's making me feel so . . . weird. You know, the guilt thing."

"Right. Please carry on."

Disturbingly, Angel glanced out the living room window again before he resumed his tale; as though there was something out in the night he was keeping his eye on. A little chill ran up Giles' back, but he tried not to let his imagination run away with him.

**********

Angelus:

Dru hadn't said a word to him since the night before. She kept her distance and wouldn't let him touch her, no matter how many times he tried. Angelus refused to apologize-in his mind, he had nothing to apologize for. He had wanted William, William had wanted him, and so they had enjoyed each other. The act being right or wrong was completely irrelevant. And it wasn't much of an act, anyway. She had nothing to complain about.

Not yet.

That night, Drusilla was gone when Angelus awoke. He searched their rooms for her and found only her discarded dolls scattered about, but no trace of the fierce girl herself. Her devoted young William had yet to rise.

"She's probably at the Abbey again," Darla said as she walked naked into the washroom to have a bath. "She's very upset with you, Angelus. I'd see to that if I were you. Her madness makes her horribly dangerous."

He was in no mood to be lectured. Gathering his coat, he said, "I'm going out."

Voluptuous as Venus in the glow of the candles placed on the edge of the tub, Darla merely waved at him as she sprinkled lavender oil into the running water. He left her with a lecherous smile.

He nearly flattened an old woman passing on the narrow sidewalk as he burst out into the cold street. Reflexively he apologized then bounded off down the wet cobble stoned road.

They were staying just outside the city center of York and the large stone wall the Romans constructed surrounding the town could be seen from their inn. Angelus walked toward the wall, longing for the heat and congestion of the taverns near the Micklegate. The blood of drunken revelers was always that much sweeter.

The night was frigid but clear and the bloated moon glowed like a lamp. It wasn't quite full yet, perhaps tomorrow night. He stopped for a moment and looked up, marveling at the pattern of the stars. So many of them that night. Like tiny holes punched into the black velvet of the sky. Orion, Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor. Tilting his head, he squinted for Lupus, his favorite constellation, on the northern horizon. While looking up, he sensed William approaching from behind but he did not let on. He waited until the young vampire was right behind him before he spun, lunged and pinned the boy to the cold grass, laughing wickedly.

William struggled under him to no avail, completely outsized by the older vampire. "Get off, you bleedin' poofter!" he shouted, but he couldn't hide his smile. He always enjoyed rough play.

"What do you want, boy? You should be looking for your woman. She's run off, you know."

"She'll be back," he said. "She's gone to that abbey again. What she sees in that dank old place, I'll never know."

Realizing the boy had stopped struggling all together and was happily lying under him, Angelus chuckled. "Enjoying yourself?"

Grinning, William slid his chilly fingers up under the hem of Angelus' shirt, tugging the fine hairs just below his navel. "You know what I liked best about drinking your blood?" he whispered.

Lips spreading in a slow, easy smile, Angelus rolled them over on the wet ground so the boy was on top. His hands slipped around William's narrow hips, drawing their bodies flush together. Their eyelashes almost touched. He knew he would find the young one hard and he wasn't disappointed. That eager cock throbbed against his own, just begging to be pleased.

"I know what you liked," he growled, brushing his nose against William's. "You liked how I handled you. I felt it in the way you responded. You wanted me to fuck you, but your girl wouldn't let you. Poor whelp," he chided. "Controlled by a bitch."

William said nothing, just kept the connection of their tightly pressed bodies.

"Well, she's not here now," Angelus continued, watching those blue eyes very closely. He rolled his hips in a slow circle, rubbing their swelling erections together. The action made William sigh and bite his full bottom lip. "You came after me because you want more. Isn't that right?"

William sniffed Angelus' neck and lips, inhaling deeply. Then he pushed himself up and out of their grappling embrace, stepping off toward the road. He grinned over his shoulder. "I'd love to taste your blood again, that's true. But you're a master of self-flattery, mate. I came after you because I'm hungry and I like watching you feed. You're so bloody vicious. It whets my appetite. And I always learn something new about the way human arteries can burst when I watch you kill." He started toward town again, his lean backside rolling easily with his stride. "So," he said over his shoulder again. "Let's go eat."

Angelus watched the younger vampire stroll away, wondering if his own blood was responsible for this sudden surge of confidence in the lad. Whatever the reason, he liked it. It brought William closer and closer to irresistible.

Getting to his feet, he caught up with his companion and they headed for the old Roman wall that surrounded the Viking city of York.

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

Giles:

"If I may," the watcher interrupted, walking over to his wall of books. "In the diaries, there's a description of how you were reluctant to accept William into the fold until after he killed his first slayer."

"Well, there were a lot of things that went into my acceptance," Angel said. "Killing one slayer wouldn't be enough by itself. But it was impressive."

They glanced at each other and Giles was momentarily frozen by Angel's eyes. His pupils were sharply dilated, making his irises appear completely black.

"Are you all right?" Giles asked.

"Sure. Why?" Angel reached for the bottle of Jameson's and refilled his glass.

"Your eyes . . ." he said, then trailed off. Angel's eyes were once again very obviously brown and looked completely normal. "Never mind. I must have imagined . . . it's nothing." He turned back to the book in his hand, but it took him a moment to concentrate on what he was looking for. That blackness he'd seen in the vampire's eyes had raised all the hairs on his body.

Turning pages, Giles walked back to his seat on the couch. "Right," he said. "Here it is. This is the diary belonging to the watcher of the slayer Spike killed during the Boxer Rebellion."

"Really?" Angel said, his curiosity clearly piqued. "May I?" he held out his hand for the book and he and Giles looked at each other for a hesitant moment.

"Oh, well . . . I . . ." Giles didn't know what to say. The protection of those diaries from the eyes of vampires was as much a part of his sacred duties as looking after Buffy. Again, he was torn by the highly unusual situation he was in with Angel and he found himself unable to make a decision.

"It's okay," the vampire said gently. "Never mind. I don't want to stress you out." He sat back in his seat, resting his fresh drink on the top of his knee.

"Thank you," Giles said gratefully. "Uh . . . right, here. This watcher has rather detailed reports of the four of you that go on for several years. He wrote: `Angelus and the new male in the group-a blond, weak-looking boy called William-seem to be forging a bond, albeit a reluctant one.'"

"I was definitely reluctant," Angel laughed. "At first, he was always making mistakes, always doing things that made me want to stake him. I don't know how he lived through the first two weeks he was with us. Dru was the only reason, I guess."

Giles continued. "The passage goes on to say: `the young one is careless and blatant. He craves attention and tries to get it by creating havoc wherever he goes. Like an impish child, he seems to be trying to impress Angelus.'" Looking up, he asked, "is that why he began all that gory carnage with the railroad spikes? To win your favor?"

Angel considered this, his brow knitting in thought. "Well, at first all he cared about was Dru. But after a few months with us, I guess he realized he needed to get into my good graces. Plus, he was becoming stronger every night." The vampire sighed. "I don't know if it was all about me. I think he just LIKED the violence. Still does."

"And you?" Giles said quietly, not needing the answer and not really wanting to hear it.

Angel lowered his eyes and his thick lashes made spider-shadows on his pale cheeks. "Things were different then, Rupert. I was different."

"I wonder," Giles said, knowing he was challenging Angel and might end up dead as a result.

His dark eyes flashed briefly, then softened, and Angel regarded him with a look of open frailty. "What do you mean? Have I . . . given you some reason to think I'm not being truthful?"

Walking the book back over to the stacks, Giles put it back in its place carefully. He spoke to Angel without turning to him at first. "It's the way you're talking about your former life. Your eyes." Then he met the vampire's imploring gaze. "I suppose it's just something I feel."

Angel blinked. "You think I'm going to hurt Buffy?"

"I think you might," he replied, honestly. "She allows herself horrid vulnerability around you. At any time you could . . ." He couldn't say it and didn't need to.

Angel slumped in his chair, shaking his head. "Rupert, I would never. I can't even imagine it." When he looked up then, his eyes were rimmed with red. "I can't believe you think I would. I care for her."

"I know you do," Giles said, walking back to his seat on the couch. "And I believe that YOU believe you would never harm her. But, Angel . . . things can happen. These dreams she's had about Drusilla, they have to mean something. Slayers don't dream for no reason. That, together with the dreams you've been having about Spike and your past together. Well, it's just all so troubling. You must admit."

Angel was silent for a long time and when he spoke again, his voice was ragged and bruised. "I know I can't ask you to really trust me, Rupert." He raised his eyes imploringly. "But Buffy does. That's got to mean something to you."

"Yes," Giles said. "It means she's in love with you. And we are both men of the world. We know that being in love clouds one's judgment."

They sat for a long time without speaking, both of them thinking a thousand thoughts. Finally, Angel sat forward and reached for the bottle of Jameson's. As he poured, he said, "do you want me to continue?"

"I think it's imperative you do so," Giles said grimly. "It seems we both have a lot to learn from your story."

They touched their glasses together and drank. Then Angel began again.

*****