Title: A Breath of Crimson
Author: Foxhunt2blue
Summary: As the New Year begins Wes
and Angel both fight their feelings 
over Angel's decision to end their 
relationship. 
Rating: NC-17 (trust me!)
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Spoilers: None for the show
Disclaimer: Our wonderful Joss created 
them I had nothing to do with it---wish 
I had. I just play with the boys on 
occasion. I on the other hand claim 
anyone you don't know.
Feedback: Please feed the baby slash ho' 
it needs nourishment to grow! ;-)
E-mail: foxhunter2blue@yahoo.com
Author's note: This is the sixth in a 
series of stories beginning with 'Deora 
Ar Mo Chroi'. If you haven't read the 
previous five check them out here:
 
http://www.geocities.com/rose_liz2001/MoChroi.html
 
****
 
"Percy when are you going to quit avoid-
ing Angel and stand up to your bloody man."
 
Wes peered over his glasses a tinge of 
anger turning his cheeks crimson. "What 
must I do to rid myself of you Spike?" 
His gaze settled back on the scroll he 
was translating.
 
"You could introduce me to that luscious 
sister of yours." Spike snickered softly. 
"Hadn't an idea that the upper crust could 
produce such scrumptious crumpets."
 
Sighing Wes pulled his glasses off and 
leaned back in his chair. "First you 
bleach blonde twit my sister is not a 
crumpet," his voice was even and low, 
"...second if you do not scamper your
blood sucking...Sid Vicious wanna be 
ass out of my office right this moment 
I will...,"
 
Spike rolled his eyes. "You'll what? 
Glare me down?"
 
Wes smiled and opened his desk draw and 
removed a stake. "I'll pin you to the 
wall like an oversized leather butterfly!"
 
"Well...all you bloody well had to do 
was ask."
 
Wes's shoulders slumped as Spike slipped 
from the room in a swirl of black. "Bloody 
vampires!"
 
Wasn't that what it all boiled down to 
in the end.
 
If Angel had just minded his business 
the night of the Halloween party none 
of this shit would be happening right 
now. He wouldn't be buried in his work, 
snapping at his employees, or trying
to hate Angel for leaving him.
 
Sure he was still here---working with 
him---but he wasn't in Wesley's bed 
where he needed to be. Wes slammed his 
fist into his desk in total frustration.
 
"Wesley?"
 
He looked up to see Fred standing in 
the door with wide brown eyes. 
 
"Can I help you?" He cleared his throat 
and picked up his glasses, then went 
back to studying the scroll in front 
of him.
 
"Actually...," Fred fidgeted.
 
"Please do set down Fred. All this fidget-
ing makes my skin itch." Wes waved at the 
chair in front of his desk as he continued 
studying the scroll.
 
Taking a seat Fred took a deep breath. 
"I was here to see if I could help you...
I mean maybe...you would like to talk...,"
 
"About what?" Wes refused to look up.
 
"Dammit...Wesley you know what I mean!" 
Her voice rose a notch her Texas accent 
rearing it's ugly little head.
 
"I haven't the vaguest clue Fred."
 
"Angel."
 
Wesley swallowed hard and pushed back 
from his desk. "There is nothing to talk 
about and to be quite frank it is none 
of your concern. I suggest you leave 
right now." His voice tightened.
 
Fred stood and shook her head as she 
moved to the door. Pausing she took a 
deep breath, then spoke softly. "Spike 
was right. You are being one right bloody 
bastard."
 
Then she was gone---leaving Wes shocked 
to the core.
 
Why must they keep poking at me, he 
wondered?
 
Because you bloody twit---the tiny voice 
in the back of his head whispered---they
are your friends.
 
All he wanted to do was forget.
 
Close the door again.
 
Yet no matter how hard he slammed the 
damn thing it always drifted open again.
 
Nothing seemed to help.
 
Not the scotch nor the work he had thrown 
himself into. The strangest things would 
remind him of what he had once had---
memories were odd that way.
 
The hint of night blooming jasmine.
 
A soft rustle of silk as anyone of a 
number of female employees would walk 
by his door.
 
The feel of smooth polished wood beneath 
his fingertips as he sat at his desk. Even 
the cool ivory hilt of the oriental sword 
he had added to his collection of weapons.
 
It was enough to drive a man insane.
 
Rolling his head on his shoulders Wes 
stood and headed back to his apartment. 
He needed a long warm bath, a stiff scotch, 
and a good night's rest. 
 
Sooner or later he would forget.
 
***
 
Standing on the rooftop Angel gazed out 
across the brilliant lights of Los Angel-
es. A cool wind swirled around him lift-
ing the tail of his coat out behind him 
as if it were a cape.
 
For a moment he smiled thinking of all 
the Batman jokes he had heard over the 
years, then slowly the smile faded.
 
He had chose this, he thought.
 
He had walked away from Wes without a 
glance back. Now he felt hollow---empty 
to the core.
 
Why did it have to be like this?
 
Hadn't he done everything the Powers 
that Be had asked of him? And what did 
he truly have to show for it?
 
So many people he had cared for gone.
 
Buffy, Doyle, Conner, Cordelia---hell 
he even missed Darla truth be told. In 
the end she had been more human than he 
felt and she hadn't even possessed a soul.
 
He felt betrayed by the very power that 
he had sworn to fight for and that betray-
al was more than he could stand. 
 
They were the ones who had sent Aliah, 
who had made him face up to a love he 
had refused to acknowledge. Then they 
had sent the wraith of his sister to 
haunt him.
 
"What is it Kathy?" He spoke without 
turning.
 
He could feel her now. It was like a 
burning itch that no amount of ointment 
could relieve.
 
"Why are you so sad Liam?"
 
Angel laughed---a harsh, brittle sound
---as he turned to face the tiny spiritt.
 
"Give me one damn good reason why I 
shouldn't just sit here until the sun 
rises?"
 
"Because you are needed." Her lips pouted, 
her brow knitting into a frown. 
 
He snorted moving past her---the itch 
swelling.
 
"By who? Go tell your angel Aliah that 
I'm done with this."
 
"With what?" Her dark eyes---so like his
---went wide and confused.
 
"Fighting the good fight."
 
***
 
He was dreaming again.
 
Dora could always tell from the soft, 
noises he made deep in his throat. After 
Angel had broken off their relationship 
the dreams had steady gotten worse. If 
it was left to her she would have driven
a stake into the bloody bastard's heart.
 
Wesley would hear none of it.
 
She moved across the room and smoothed 
the blanket over her brother's shivering 
body as she made soft shushing noises. 
Looking down on him she was reminded of 
the little boy he had once been.
 
Would he never be happy, she wondered?
 
Thinking of her own fiancee---Michael---
a bitter taste rose in her throat. It was 
the taste of guilt.
 
She felt guilty for having someone that 
loved her.
 
The soft noises in Wesley's throat had 
turned to moans now and soon there would 
be screams.
 
Dora didn't want to hear Wesley's sobbing 
pleas as he thrashed against an enemy 
that didn't exist. Neither did she want 
to see the way his eyes dilated with fear 
when he woke from those nightmares. It 
sometimes took her at least a half hour 
to shake him fully from whatever hell he 
was locked in.
 
None of these things did she want to see 
or to do, yet she must. No choices were 
available to her either than those.
 
She was all Wesley had left.
 
***
 
Fred sat on the sofa---shoulders hunched 
and her brow wrinkled---as Lorne waited 
patiently.
 
After what seemed an eternity Lorne clear-
ed his throat and spoke. "You know sweetie 
there is a reason Angel walked away."
 
She snorted as she leaned back into the 
velvet cushions. "He didn't have to do it. 
We could find a way to fix it." Her lower 
lip quivered as she thought of the pain 
she had seen hidden deep in Wesley's eyes 
earlier.
 
Settling next to Fred Lorne folded his 
hands over hers and let out a soft sigh. 
"Don't you think Angel would have found 
it? If there was a way to break the curse 
he would have when he and the Slayer were 
together."
 
Fred yanked away as if his touch had burnt
her. "Screw Buffy!" Her voice was sharp 
with anger. "If he didn't want to lose 
his soul he shouldn't have fell in love...
and what kind of Slayer...a Vampire Slay-
er...gets involved with not just one, but 
two vampires?"
 
"Angel was different." He shook his head.
 
"Spike wasn't!" Fred snorted again.
 
"You might have a point there sugar, but
the big point is Angel has a soul. A soul 
just like me and you and a soul can fall 
in love."
 
Fred paced the room as she listened to 
Lorne's explanation. "Maybe he didn't 
know what could happen when he was with 
Buffy...," her eyes filled with unshed 
tears, "...but he knew when he got involv-
ed with Wesley. He knew Lorne and he didn't 
give a damn!"
 
"I don't think that...," Lorne began only 
to stop when he saw the look in Fred's dark
eyes. 
 
"If he didn't care then that means he used 
Wesley for sex and that sickens me! Wesley
loves him Lorne and he just tossed him 
aside at the first sign of trouble...," 
her voice faded into soft snuffles as Lorne 
wrapped his arm around her.
 
"Listen sweetie...denial can be a pretty 
powerful emotion. Maybe Angel just thought 
that if he denied it could happen, then 
it wouldn't."
 
Fred looked up into Lorne's scarlet eyes 
and sniffled again. "But that isn't fair...
it still...isn't fair."
 
"I know sugar," Lorne whispered as he 
stroked her hair, "...it isn't fair at 
all."
 
***
 
Gunn was surprised when Lorne strolled 
into his office late that night. He very 
rarely spoke to the flamboyant demon, 
but he enjoyed it when he did. Lorne 
always was able to bring a grin to his 
face.
 
"What's up Lorne?" He pushed aside a pile
of contracts he was going over.
 
Lorne dropped gracefully in the chair 
across from him---smoothed his jacket---
then looked at Gunn with the most anger 
Gunn had ever seen on his face.
 
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph don't tell me 
Cruise is giving us trouble again. You'd 
think after all these years that he'd be 
used to the gay rumors."
 
Waving his hand dramatically he cracked 
a smile. "No of course not. Tom is fine, 
but I was just making that point to him 
the other day. I said 'Tom...sweetie...
if you didn't want to make people think 
you were gay you should have never done 
Interview'. I mean all that homoerotic 
sub-text was enough to drive any straight 
man gay!"
 
Gunn snorted. "Thanks Lorne I needed that."
 
"Oh hon' you know Hollywood. Everyone is 
sleeping around, but no body wants to 
confess. It's that artsy crowd. Sex and 
creativity go hand in hand."
 
Throwing back his head Gunn roared with 
laughter.
 
"So Lorne...," he swallowed another laugh, 
"...what can I do for you?"
 
"Crimson Faire."
 
"Crimson Faire?"
 
"Yes I need you to locate Crimson Faire 
for me."
 
"What is that?" Gunn frowned.
 
"Who...not what Charles."
 
"Who?" His brows raised up a notch. "What 
kind of name is that unless your a stripper?" 
Gunn paused and grinned at Lorne.
 
"No...HE...is not a stripper."
 
"He?" Now Gunn was really confused.
 
Lorne laughed at Gunn's expression. "He 
used to be a regular at Caritas in the 
early days. Hell of a singer, but refus-
ed to do anything, but Garland. Reminded 
me a lot of Angelkin's and his obsession
with Manilow. Of course Angel never put 
on a dress to sing."
 
Gunn almost fell out of his chair.
 
"You okay?" Lorne peered at him with 
narrow eyes.
 
"A dress?" Gunn choked out.
 
"Yes a dress. Crimson is a cross-dresser. 
Flies straight as any arrow, but loves 
to wear Victoria Secrets. Of course I 
love the feel of silk to, but lace is 
just damn itchy."
 
Taking a deep breath Gunn swallowed hard. 
"That was more than I needed to know Lorne."
 
With a faint snort Lorne leaned back in 
the chair crossing his legs primly. "Sugar 
that was just the icing on the cupcake 
not the creme filling. Crimson is a war-
lock who happens to be half demon. He 
claims Douglas Fairbanks was his father, 
but Doug's estate sued him for defamation 
of character. So he shortened his last 
name to Faire."
 
"So any idea where this warlock...,"
 
"Crimson."
 
"Yeah...Crimson...any idea where he's at?"
 
"Last I heard he was headlining an act 
at a little club called 'Front Page'. I 
thought maybe our connections could help 
out finding him."
 
"Sounds more like your department Lorne. 
Why come to me?" Gunn leaned forward 
grabbing a pad and started scribbling 
some notes. 
 
"Oh, did I forget to mention that? Crimson 
does work for the Mafia."
 
"Mafia? The Mafia...as in horse's head 
in bed? What kind of work?" 
 
"Damn Coppola for that crap. Yes that 
Mafia sweets...he's a killer for hire. 
A mystical hit-man."
 
On that note Lorne stood and headed for 
the door leaving Gunn staring at his back 
in shock.
 
***
 
Angel was torn from his thoughts by a 
furious knocking at his door. 
 
"Come in."
 
The door slammed open with a loud thud 
and he was on his feet expecting a demon 
or some other evil thing. To his shock 
it wasn't a demon glaring at him, but 
Wesley's sister Dora. He hadn't even 
known she was still here.
 
"Dora?"
 
"Don't Dora me you son-of-a bitch!"
 
Storming across the room she back handed 
him so hard his ears rang. When her hand 
rose again he grabbed it in mid-flight.
 
"Are you fucking crazy?!"
 
Her chest was heaving as if she had ran 
up the stairs all the way to the penthouse. 
 
"Maybe! Do you even have a clue what 
you've done?" She struggled until he 
released her hand,then she turned her 
back. A soft hiccup escaped her as she 
ran her fingers through her tousled
hair---a habit Angel had often saw in 
Wes when he was frustrated.
 
"What is it Dora?"
 
Her laughter sounded like shattered glass 
as she turned on him---shoulders stiff.  
"What is it? WHAT IS IT?! You have your 
bloody nerve you blood sucking wanker!"
 
Angel's brow raised in surprise. "I don't 
suck blood!"
 
"You might as well! You sucked the life 
right out of Wesley...," her voice cracked 
as the tears began to flow down her face.
 
There was nothing he could say about that.
 
"I'm sorry Dora...I really...,"
 
"Tell him that." Her words chilled Angel 
to the core of his soul. "He's killing 
himself you bastard."
 
Angel turned away dropping onto the sofa 
his chest aching---his gut twisting. The 
others had told him as much, but he had 
hoped that Wes would be okay. That maybe 
he would understand eventually.
 
"He doesn't sleep...he doesn't eat and 
when he isn't doing that he's locked in 
his office. Don't you get it Angel? He's 
withering away and you're up here brood-
ing in your apartment as if none of it 
matters...as if he doesn't matter." Dora 
turned to him---face pale and eyes swollen
---her anger a living thing that swirleed 
around her.
 
"I don't know what to say."
 
"Tell him you were wrong. Go back to him 
tell him you still love him."
 
"I can't." Angel whispered.
 
"Can't or won't? Was he just another toy 
for Angelus to play with?"
 
Angel was on his feet and in her face 
before she could draw another breath. 
"You have no fucking idea what you're 
talking about!" His eyes shimmered gold 
for a split second then fade back to 
brown. "I love him more than I can say! 
More than I ever thought I could love
again!"
 
"Then why?!" She cried. "Why would you 
do this to him?!"
 
"Because I'm protecting him. I'm protect-
ing the world."
 
"Fuck the world!" Dora hissed storming 
from the room.
 
***
 
The Front Page was one of those out of 
the way bars that hid in plain sight. 
Nothing to give away what Gunn was about 
to find inside. 
 
The building was four stories and was 
one of those odd shaped buildings you 
were more likely to find in New York 
or up north in San Francisco. An almost 
perfect triangle. The tall narrow windows 
were tinted so no one could see in and 
a simple white neon sign declared that 
this was 'The Front Page'.
 
As soon as he opened the door he realized 
that whoever owned the club had invested 
in sound proofing in a big way. 
 
From somewhere upstairs a wild techno 
beat drifted down the cast iron spiral 
staircase. A thick mix of smoke and 
incense filled the main floor where 
people danced hip to hip to what sounded 
like a mix of Indian and Goth. It was 
overpowering to the senses not to mention 
eclectic in it's decor.
 
Lush silk cushions sat next to Art Deco 
furnishings.
 
Beaded curtains, black lights, chrome, 
and leather.
 
Lorne would have went into a fit about 
the lack of taste. Grinning Gunn slipped 
further into the mass of writhing bodies 
making his way to the bar on the north 
side of the room. 
 
The bar looked as though it had been 
plucked from an old John Wayne western. 
Dark wood and a bartender dressed accord-
ingly. Except for two things.
 
The oil painting above the bar was of 
an orgy. Pale naked limbs tangled amid 
blood red silk---both male and female.
 
That and the fact that the bartender had 
yellow and green scales, not to mention 
snake eyes.
 
"Can I help you sss...ir?" The bartender's 
tongue flicked out scenting the air.
 
Gunn cleared his throat and slipped his 
business card across the bar. "Charles 
Gunn. I'm looking for Crimson Faire."
 
"Crimsssss...on is on four in the Gold 
Room." He flicked his towel towards the staircase.
"You're jussst in time for hissss...ssssshow."
 
Nodding his thanks to the bartender Gunn
slithered back through the crowd and headed
up the crowded staircase to the fourth 
floor wondering exactly what Lorne had 
gotten him into.
 
***
 
Dora wiped the tears from her face as she 
paused outside Wes's door.
 
What had she been thinking?
 
She shouldn't have went to Angel, but she 
felt so helpless. What had happened to the 
brave little girl who had snuck her brother 
food when he was being punished?
 
Seconds after that question crossed her 
mind Wes began screaming.
 
***
 
He was pinned to the bed beneath Angel. 
Their bodies moving as one in a powerful 
dance of need and want.
 
Skin slicked with sweat he writhed with 
each forward thrust of Angel's hips. The 
air scored his throat with each breath 
like liquid fire.
 
This was what he wanted more than anything
else---to be possessed with such passion, 
force, and love that nothing else matter-
ed. There was only his body and his lover's 
locked in this perfect moment as he rose 
on the wave of an intense orgasm.
 
"Love you Wes...," came Angel's whiskey 
growl in his ear, "...love you more than 
anything."
 
"Yes...," he heard himself hiss as his 
back bowed and his legs tightened around 
Angel's waist.
 
"Perfect...so perfect and happy...," Angel 
hissed against his convulsing throat. 
 
Just as Wes was caught in the tidal wave 
of his climax Angel reared back.
 
Golden eyes.
 
Ridged brow.
 
"Such perfect happiness...," Angel hissed, 
"...I'm home Wesley!" 
 
In that split second he realized that it 
wasn't Angel, but Angelus who was buried 
deep inside him. 
 
In a panic he began to struggle, but it 
did no good.
 
One hand pinned his wrists together above 
his head, the other clamped over his mouth 
as his head was twisted to the side with 
enough force to snap the bone.
 
Angelus laughed as he leaned in and ripp-
ed out his throat in one swift motion. 
 
***
 
"WES! WAKE UP!!"
 
"Nnnnooooo!" He convulsed against the 
hands that tried to pin him down.
 
"Wesley! Dammit wake up!"
 
His eyes fluttered open---fully expecting 
Angelus above him---to find Dora staring 
at him with wide wet eyes. With a shudder 
his body relaxed as Dora stroked his sweat 
matted hair.
 
"...dora...," he croaked as his eyes slow-
ly lowered.
 
"Yes love it's me...relax...that's it," 
she whispered as her hands moved down his 
jaw---wiping away the tears---cupping his 
face gently. "What was it this time?"
 
Wesley shook his head unable to put into 
words what he had saw in his dream. He 
knew she didn't understand---hell he 
wasn't sure if he did---why he continued 
to torture himself. All he did know was 
that he felt empty and abandoned even 
though his mind understood why Angel 
had ended their relationship.
 
"I...I need a shower...," he sighed soft-
ly as he tried to set up.
 
"What you need is for that bastard to 
come back."
 
Dora stood and moved across the room star-
ing out at the cityscape of neon beyond 
the window.
 
"You don't understand Dora."
 
"Then explain to me why. Why he left you 
knowing it would kill you. Didn't he love 
you?"
 
Wes sat up scrubbing the last traces of 
tears from his pale face. "Yes. He does 
love me."
 
Snorting Dora crossed her arms refusing 
to look at him. "If he loves you then why?"
 
"Because he can't love anyone...if he 
does...," he sighed as he pulled himself 
to his feet. He was to old for this, he thought.
"He'll lose his soul Dora...some-
thing neither of us wants. One moment
of perfect happiness and that's it...end 
of story."
 
Turning to Wes she leaned against the cool 
glass, blinking back tears. "Then let him 
go. If you can't be with him let him go...
find someone else." 
 
"There is no one else Dora." He turned 
and walked into the bedroom as she began 
to weep.
 
***
 
The Gold Room was just that.
 
Gold silk wallpaper. Gold and frosted 
glass lights shaped like star bursts 
hanging from the ceiling.
 
Demon and human alike sat scattered through 
the room on gold upholstered chairs and 
tables covered in gold trimmed navy silk 
table cloths.
 
They sat sipping champagne and chatting 
softly as they socialized in the smoky 
room.
 
Gunn shook his head as he stepped up to 
the hostess. She stood a good foot taller 
than he did and her eyes were an eerie 
pale violet, her skin a shimmering gold 
that he was sure wasn't body paint.
 
"Can I help you sir."
 
Holding out a card he continued scoping 
out the room. "Charles Gunn. I'm looking 
for Crimson Faire."
 
The woman raised one perfectly shaped brow
and smiled. "Crimson is about to perform 
Mr. Gunn. If you would like to sit and 
have a drink I'll send a message to his 
manager."
 
Nodding Gunn allowed her to show him to 
a table at the front of the stage as the 
lights lowered and an orange demon in a 
silver tux appeared on stage with a mike 
in tow.
 
"Welcome to the Gold Room ladies and gents.
It's time to get down to business."
 
A soft rumble moved through the room.
 
"The Astonishing Crimson Faire!"
 
Wild applause echoed through the room as 
the gold curtains parted to reveal a piano 
on which a small delicate creature sat.
 
"Crimson I presume," Gunn mumbled as the 
piano player began.
 
Crimson had a beautiful voice, but Gunn 
would have never imaged said singer was 
a man in drag.
 
He was all of maybe five foot and wore 
a slinky black floor length gown studded 
with crystals that caught the light and 
shattered it into tiny rainbows.
 
It was clear why his name was Crimson. 
A cascade of crimson curls the color 
of fresh blood flowed down his back in 
a waterfall of brilliance that wasn't 
natural in the human gene pool. Gunn 
had a feeling it wasn't from Ms. Clairol 
either. Even the sisters never got that
kind of color with assistance.
 
As his voice rose Gunn smiled to himself.
 
The little bastard sounded just like 
Celine Dion as he sang one of her songs.

He strolled sexily along the stage on 
three inch heels that still didn't make 
him look tall.
 
This was going to be fun Gunn thought 
as he shook his head in disbelief. 
Definitely fun or funnier than hell.
 
***
 
Angel had tired of the confines of the 
penthouse.
 
All he could think of was the look on 
Dora's face as she had pleaded with him 
to come back to Wesley. She was frighten-
ed and angry and he couldn't exactly 
blame her for either. She loved her 
brother and she would have done anything
to save him from the slow spiral he had 
tumbled into when Angel walked away.
 
Lurking in the shadows of the alley he 
hunted the very thing he was.
 
A vampire---a demon.
 
He still couldn't believe how Wes could 
have loved him after everything he had 
done in his long life, but then Wes had 
always been able to separate the two. 
 
Angel was a warrior for the light and 
Angelus was a twisted demonic creature 
that had nothing to do with Angel.
 
But he was Angelus and that he couldn't 
convince Wes of---he never had been.
 
A scream ripped into his thoughts and 
he slipped into game face. He needed 
to work off some steam badly. With a 
roar he leapt from the fire escape to
the alley a hundred feet below.
 
***
 
Gunn was led by a very human bodyguard 
to Crimson Faire's dressing room an hour 
after the show had began. He was exhausted, 
it was late, and he wasn't in the mood 
to argue or question anything.
 
The guard nodded to the door, then took 
his position with a gruff three words. 
"He's expecting you."
 
Gunn opened the door and stepped in with 
a leery glance back at the guard. He slow-
ly closed the door behind him and turned 
for his first glimpse of Crimson sans the 
dress.
 
It was like looking at night and day.
 
The cascade of crimson curls was now slick-
ed back and worked into a thick braid that 
hung to the bottom of his spine. He was 
dressed in black jeans, a black turtle 
neck, and heavy ass kicking boots.
 
This close up it was obvious he had demon 
heritage.
 
His eyes were a pale gold ringed in violet 
and his ears curved into sharp points. Crim-
son Faire looked like a punk elf that had 
escaped from the Lord of the Rings. As he 
turned and settled in a chair Gunn noted 
the thin gold ring in the right side of 
his nose.
 
"So Mr. Gunn...what can I do for you?" 
His voice was rich like a foamy latte---
sweet and thick.
 
Gunn fidgeted for a moment then took the 
chair across from the small demonic hit-
man. "Lorne sent me to find you."
 
A wide grin split Crimson's face reveal-
ing perfect pearly whites. "Lords of Kra-
vell! Lorne? How is the annoying green 
fucker?"
 
"Good I guess. He's the head of the enter-
tainment division at Wolfram & Hart."
 
Standing up Crimson made a face as if 
he'd tasted something rotten and stroll-
ed to a mini-fridge where he pulled out 
a beer. "Wolfram & Hart? I am surprised.
Lorne never seemed the type to work for 
the stoolies of evil. Beer?" He held up 
a bottle raising one delicate brow.
 
"Yeah." Gunn accepted the beer gratefully. 
God knew he needed it after everything 
he had seen tonight.
 
Returning to his seat Crimson crossed one 
leg over his knee and slouched into the 
chair. "So why exactly does old Mr. Green 
Jeans want to talk to me?"
 
"Don't know," Gunn gulped his beer. "All 
he said was to find you."
 
Tapping the beer bottle against his chin 
Crimson hummed to himself thoughtfully. 
"Might be a job."
 
"Could be." Gunn took another swig of beer.
 
"Well then tell Lorne I would be pleased 
to meet with him...tomorrow around noon."
 
***
 
Angel straggled into the penthouse around 
four and he was exhausted.
 
Two vamps,  a very annoying Daberth demon,
and a Screecher were now no more. His ears 
were still ringing from the last one---damn 
his vampire hearing.
 
"So the pouf returns. Shall I call out the 
marching band and get the bloody parade 
started?"
 
Angel growled as he fumbled with the lock. 
"What the hell do you want Spike?"
 
Spike raised one dark brow and leaned 
against the wall with his trademark smug 
shit-eating grin. "Did little Angelkins 
have a bad night?"
 
"Fuck you Spike!" He pushed the door open 
and was about to slam the door when Spike 
stuck one booted foot in the doorway. 
"What?!"
 
"I think you need to get off your horse 
Dudley-Do-Right and have a word with ol' 
Percy."
 
"Why?" Angel gave up and headed into the 
apartment tossing his duster in the floor.
 
"He threatened to stake my ass earlier."
 
"And that's bad...how?"
 
"Look Angel it's not like I much care for 
the watcher twit, but threatening to stake 
me isn't something he does on a daily basis. 
Yell at me yes...roll his eyes at me another 
bloody positive...but not this."
 
Angel's shoulders slumped. As much as he 
hated to admit it Spike had a point. "So 
what am I suppose to do?"
 
"Kiss and make up Angel."
 
"You know I can't radioactive boy."
 
"And why the bloody hell not? Percy is in 
love with you and you done kicked his 
scrawny aristocratic ass to the curb. Even 
Angelus wasn't that coldhearted when he 
truly wanted something."
 
Angel dropped onto the sofa---his head 
hanging.
 
"Oh...," Spike raised an eyebrow. "So the 
pouf has found more than just a tight ass."
 
Jerking his head up Angel glared at Spike. 
"Don't refer to him like that...as a matter 
of fact...don't refer to him at all."
 
Spike flopped onto the sofa beside Angel 
with a faint smile. "And here I was think-
ing that you hated my ass for screwing 
Buffy when you've gone and went belly 
up for Percy."
 
"His name is Wes."
 
Rolling his eyes Spike leaned forward---
elbows on knees---his eyes twinkling. 
"You're afraid of the gypsy curse...one 
moment of happiness and all that shit. 
Well Angel my dear grandsire you are well 
and thoroughly fucked."
 
With a sigh Angel flopped back into the 
cushions scrubbing at his face. "Dora's 
pissed."
 
"You mean that tasty tidbit had the balls 
to tell the scary big, bad vamp what she 
thought of your sorry ass? I am impressed...
not to mention horny as hell for her right 
now."
 
"Wes would kill you. Stake you out in the 
sunlight and watch you burn." Angel tried 
to hide the amusement in his voice.
 
"Ahhh...well he'd have to bloody well 
catch me first. Besides Dora seems to be 
in love with that stuffy professor of hers."
 
A sudden image of Wes chasing Spike in a 
circle waving a butterfly net aloft sent 
Angel into a fit of laughter. Spike raised 
a brow and snorted.
 
"Okay...now fancy that...finally drove 
you starkers after all this time." Spike 
stood and headed for the door, then paused. 
"If you love him you'll find a way you 
stubborn sod." 
 
Then he was gone.
 
***
 
Wes grumbled to himself as he tightened 
the towel around his hips, heading for 
the door.
 
"Just a bloody...," he stopped when he 
opened the door to find Angel standing there,
"...moment?"
 
Backing up he just stared at Angel with 
wide blue eyes, then realized he was half 
naked. Angel had noticed that particular 
thing as well. His dark eyes were moving 
over Wes's trembling damp body with a 
look of need verging on lust.
 
"I'm sorry," Angel whispered. "Did I 
interrupt your shower?" He stepped into 
the room, closing the door behind him.
 
Wes tore his eyes from Angel and turned 
his back to the one thing he had been 
wanting. "You shouldn't be here Angel." 
He almost choked on the words as he head-
ed for the bedroom.
 
"Yes I should."
 
At those three words Wes froze---his heart 
pounding and twittering all at the same 
time---in the doorway of the bedroom. He 
shook his head slowly.
 
"No...you shouldn't. Trust me Angel I 
understand why you left me. If you're 
worried about that...I forgive you...
it's not your fault."
 
"Then why are you doing this Wes?"
 
"I haven't a clue...,"
 
"Don't lie to me Wes. The others have 
told me that you're not eating or sleep-
ing."
 
"Poppycock."
 
"Don't...,"
 
"What? Tell you that I'm fine when I'm 
not?" Wes turned and stared at Angel 
with haunted eyes.
 
"Yes."
 
Silence settled around them as they stood 
staring at one another lost for words.
 
"I love you Angel...," Wes's whisper was 
gritty.
 
"I know."
 
"I can't change that. There's not a bloody 
on and off switch that I can use to shut 
it off."
 
Angel let his eyes drop to the floor. 
"Please."
 
"Please what? Let you go? I can't Angel...
I just can't. I've loved you for years and 
it's not that simple." Wes stumbled to a 
chair his legs wilting beneath him. "God 
help me...I wish I could. It would be so 
much simpler."
 
Kneeling at Wes's feet Angel took his 
hands in his with a sigh. "I wish I could 
change it Wes."
 
Wes looked up into Angel's sad eyes and 
smiled softly. "I know you do Angel...," 
he lifted their intertwined fingers brush-
ing a kiss on Angel's knuckles, "...I know."
 
***
 
Lorne was ready to blow up half of Holly-
wood when the knock came at his door.
 
Sighing loudly he shifted in his seat 
and adjusted the cold pack on his head. 
If he didn't answer it maybe they would 
go away.
 
The knock came again, but louder this 
time.
 
"Geez Mary Lou! It had better be impor-
tant!" 
 
The door flew open and Lorne almost fell 
out of his chair. When he got control of 
his flailing limbs he smiled wide enough 
to blind half of LA with his pearly whites.
 
"Crimson!"
 
The tiny man in black strolled in with an 
equally bright smile. "Lorne you horny 
bitch!" 
 
Lorne stood hugging the smaller man so 
hard he lifted him off the ground. "Still 
ever the classy lady I see."
 
Crimson raised a brow, then broke out 
laughing and slapping his thigh. "Never 
could convince you I liked the broads 
could I Lorne. Now what is it that was 
so important you sent your blood thirsty 
attorney after me?"
 
Settling into a chair Crimson dropped 
his bag next to him. Lorne made a bee-
line for the bar and began selecting 
bottles to mix drinks.
 
"Oh, Gunn is harmless unless you try to 
kill his friends, then watch out sugar. 
Snipes doesn't have anything on that man."
 
Crimson snorted. "Do you remember...,"
 
"Alcarth Fizzle...straight up with a twist 
of lime. As if I would forget that." Lorne 
came back with a tall glass of bubbling 
blue liquid and a Cosmo. Handing over the 
Fizzle to Crimson he settled in a chair 
across from him smiling as the other man 
took a deep drink.
 
"Lords, but you always made the best Lorne.
So get on with it."
 
Lorne sipped his Cosmo and leaned back 
trying to collect his thoughts. "You see 
Crimson you mystical cupcake...I have two 
friends that need your expert assistance."
 
"So what are we talking here? A hit...,"
 
"Goodness no sweetie!" Lorne choked on 
his drink. "More a curse issue...a gypsy 
curse."
 
"Gypsies...," Crimson shook his head, 
"...tough ass magic. Quite vindictive 
when you piss them off...humans can 
create some pretty nasty shit when they 
set their minds to it."
 
Lorne leaned across his desk---sitting 
down his drink---then caught Crimson's 
gaze. "Have you heard of Angel?"
 
Crimson's brow raised a notch as he 
finished his drink. "Damn Lorne...every-
one has heard of Angel. Vampire with a 
soul. Hell I've turned down a couple of 
contracts to take him out. I might be a 
killer, but I'm not stupid. I won't ever 
fuck with the poster boy for the PTB."
 
Nodding Lorne leaned back. "Good to know
that. But do you know about...,"
 
"...the curse? Yeah and I hate to tell 
you this doll, but I can't break it." 
Crimson tapped his chin thoughtfully 
with his glass. "You know though...may-
be...I can do something."
 
Leaning in he began to fill in Lorne on 
a possibility that had Lorne tickled pink.
 
***
 
Angel stood staring out at the city his 
hands folded behind him.
 
"Liam?"
 
"Not now Kathy...please?"
 
"Aliah isn't happy about the message you 
had me deliver." Her voice was soft and 
sad.
 
Sighing Angel turned taking in the wraith 
of his human sister. "And exactly why 
should I care if she's happy or not?"
 
Kathy moved closer looking deep into his
eyes. "She is sorry that this has made 
you sad brother, but she is nothing...
just a messenger. Her power does not 
include the ability to cure the curse." 
Her tiny hand reached out brushing his 
larger one with a chill breeze. "But 
there is hope Liam...there is always 
hope."
 
Angel snorted.
 
"That's all they ever do Kathy. A hundred 
plus years of suffering...of trying to 
atone...and what do I get. Always the 
carrot of salvation dangled in front of 
me...urging me on. I'm tired of being 
their donkey."
 
"Who's donkey?"
 
Glancing up Angel met Wes's worried gaze,
realizing that he must look insane talk-
ing to thin air. "No one's...," he whisper-
ed.
 
Wes shivered---rubbing his arms---walking
to the thermostat. "It's bloody cold in 
here."
 
"I hadn't noticed." Angel deadpanned.
 
Shaking his head Wes turned back to Angel
with a gruff laugh. "I don't suppose you 
would."
 
"So where is Dora?" He really didn't care, 
but he wanted to forget about the conver-
sation with Kathy.
 
"She went shopping with Fred of all people."
 
The sudden sharp ring of Angel's cell 
caused both men to jump. 
 
"Excuse me Wes...," he slipped the cell 
from his jacket pocket, "...Angel. What? 
Calm down...yeah be right there." He 
flipped the phone shut and turned back 
to Wes. "That was Lorne...,"
 
"Well...I do have work to do...," Wes 
started for the door.
 
"He wants to see us both...now...in 
conference room one."
 
***
 
Angel sat staring at Lorne as if he had 
grown a third horn in the middle of his 
forehead.
 
"The full moon?" Wes's voice held an edge 
of pain filled hope.
 
Crimson was pacing the floor as he rattled 
off his solution. "The full moon holds 
vast power as you well should know Mr. Pryce. 
For example lycanthropes...the tides of 
Earth...there is much to the old wives 
tales of the human race as well. That 
power can be harnessed and used in a 
number of ways including the transforma-
tion I've just outlined."
 
"If this is true...," Wes turned to Angel 
his voice cracking.
 
"It is...I assure you." Crimson smiled. 
"It would only be for three nights and 
two days a month. It is by no means a 
complete solution, but it will work."
 
"Angel?" Wes bit his lower lip as he 
pleaded with wide eyes.
 
"I don't know Wes...what if it doesn't 
work?"
 
"Do you love me?" Sighing Wes dropped 
his gaze to the table.
 
"Of course I do." 
 
"Then...please? I would rather have three 
nights with you a month, than never be 
with you again."
 
Angel nodded thoughtfully. "How soon 
Mr. Faire?"
 
"Crimson please...and tonight is the 
first night of the full moon. Shall we?"
 
"Yes." Angel smiled at Wes.
 
***
 
A note had been left for Dora on Wes's 
door explaining the situation. The next 
two days had been cleared from both Wes 
and Angel's schedules just in case and 
now they were in Angel's living room---
the furniture pushed back against the 
walls---and a sheet of blood red silk 
spread across the carpet.
 
"Now listen carefully. Once the rings 
are in place you must never remove them."
 
Wes and Angel stood quietly watching 
Crimson as he unpacked each item he 
required for the spell. He was thorough 
and the consummate pro at his profession.
 
Two silver goblets engraved with runes 
that Wes recognized as Delcourtian---an 
ancient race of demons who had long ago 
died out. Two simple silver bands which 
a local jeweler had provided were sat 
out on the small teak wood altar in the
center of the silk sheet.
 
Wes watched nervously his heart pounding 
as he paced in a circle. A gentle hand 
settled on his shoulder and he turned 
to look into Angel's dark eyes.
 
"Relax Wes." He smiled softly.
 
Shaking his head Wes pulled away. "You 
don't have to...," his voice trembled.
 
"No, I don't have too...I want too." His 
hand lifted cupping Wes's clenched jaw. 
"I told you...I love you Wes. I don't 
want to see this thing between us kill 
you."
 
Wes smiled swallowing hard. "But if it 
doesn't work...,"
 
Angel's thumb caressed his lips gently. 
"No buts."
 
"Are you ready?" 
 
They both turned to see Crimson standing 
at the altar in a black robe a curved 
dagger gripped in his left hand. His gold 
eyes glittering in the pale candlelight 
as he reached out to them.
 
Both nodded---their hands intertwined.
 
"Then disrobe."
 
Stripping they stepped on the silk---the 
material whispering beneath their bare 
feet.
 
"Kneel."
 
Releasing each others hands they knelt 
on opposing sides of the altar their 
eyes locked on one another as Crimson 
began to recite the spell. 
 
"These two souls come to you to plead 
for a love they share...a love denied 
by the words of a curse spoke long ago. 
Mother Moon I speak for them in my oath 
to you. They plead with their hearts
for you to give them what fate would 
deny."
 
Crimson lifted the dagger---kissing the 
blade with reverent lips---then knelt.
 
"Let this offering to you of blood be 
their blessing."
 
Holding out the dagger to Angel he smiled.
 
Angel took the blade and ran it's edge 
across his left wrist. "I have been cursed 
to bear my sins within this eternal form. 
Take my blood Mother and bless this man 
before me for his love for me."
 
Lifting his bleeding wrist above one of 
silver goblets he watched as the dark 
blood dripped down covering the bottom 
of the glass. He looked up into Wes's 
shining eyes as he kissed the blade and 
handed to Wes.
 
Taking a deep breath Wes ran the blade 
across the pale skin of his wrist lift-
ing it above his own goblet. 
 
"I have been blessed to find love in the 
darkness of eternity. A love that would 
be cursed by human lips. Take my blood 
Mother, lift this dark curse within your 
powerful light, and bless this soul for
his love for me." He kissed the blade.
 
Turning to Crimson he handed the dagger 
to the warlock with a smile.
 
"Take this offering Mother...blood and 
hope...in these holy relics," Crimson 
lifted the goblets pouring the blood 
into a shallow bowl of crushed, dried
jasmine and cloves. "He who is cursed 
has given of himself...he who loves that 
which is cursed has given of himself. In 
this they have committed to a love that 
can only be revealed in your light Mother
Moon."
 
With the blade he mixed the blood and 
herbs together, then lifted the two 
silver bands skyward.
 
"Purest of metals...purest of emotions...," 
he handed Angel then Wes the bands. "Breath 
into these symbols the power you have 
in your love for one another."
 
Angel lifted his band inhaled a breath of 
unneeded air then released it through the 
center of the band.
 
"Though I need not breath I ask with this 
breath to be freed in your light to love 
as I see fit this man."
 
Wes lifted his band and released a breath 
of warm air against the cool metal.
 
"Allow my breath to release the curse in 
your light so that I may love this man 
as I see fit."
 
"Place the rings in the bowl."
 
Wes and Angel's eyes met across the altar 
as the both simultaneously dropped the 
rings into the bowl of their mingled 
blood. Crimson lifted the bowl to his 
lips and spoke softly.
 
"With this final breath may I your humble 
servant Crimson Faire of the Elevanian 
bind these souls together in their love."
 
Releasing a soft breath into the bowl 
they all watched as the blood began to 
sparkle and swirl around the rings. Slow-
ly the blood was absorbed into the shining 
silver until nothing remained. 
 
With a faint smile Crimson sat the bowl 
down and lifted the glowing rings out of 
it's now empty silver. He handed one to 
Wes, then one to Angel.
 
"And so with your blessing may their love 
shine in your light." Crimson nodded to 
Angel.
 
Taking Wes's hand Angel smiled as he slipped
the band onto his finger. "Mother I honor 
this soul who loves me."
 
Wes took Angel's hand in his and slipped 
the band onto his finger. "Mother I honor 
this soul who loves me."
 
"Join hands." 
 
Angel and Wes's hands wove together as 
Crimson stood the dagger raised. "May 
your light bless those who dare to love 
in the darkness. I beseech you Mother...
bind them...protect them...bless them."
 
A surge of light swirled around Wes and 
Angel's clasp hands---up their arms---
causing them to both to gasp. The light 
filled them, warmed them, and promised 
what they had already promised one another.
 
"So mote it be." Crimson intoned.
 
Slowly the light faded and the two were 
left staring at one another in wonder. 
Neither noticed as Crimson collected his 
items, then slipped from the room.
 
***
 
How long they knelt there staring into 
each others eyes they couldn't say later. 
Both of them were afraid to move---afraid 
to destroy what they both imagined was 
a dream.
 
Wes was the first one to speak.
 
"Angel...," his wide eyes glistened.
 
"Yes?"
 
"You're warm."
 
Angel nodded bringing Wes's hand to his 
bare chest swallowing hard. Beneath Wes's 
fingers something fluttered as he flatten-
ed his palm against the warm skin.
 
"Your...," Wes looked up with disbelief.
 
"...heart is beating." Angel finished.
 
"Oh, my God...your...," Wes choked back 
tears.
 
"Alive. I'm alive!" Angel was on his feet 
pulling Wes into his arms. "I'm alive Wes!"
 
They both began laughing as they clung 
to each other in disbelief. When their 
laughter finally faded Wes looked into 
Angel's shining eyes.
 
"It's only temporary...," Wes bit his 
lip---pain filling his eyes. "Are you 
going to be okay?"
 
"As long as I have you Wes...I will be." 
Angel leaned in kissing Wes hard and deep. 
Their tongues dancing together until they 
both had to pull back for a breath. "You 
are so fucking beautiful Wes...," Angel 
gasp, "...I want you now."
 
Wes's cheeks flushed pink as Angel took 
his hand guiding him into the bedroom. 
"I guess I can accept this if you can," 
Wes whispered.
 
***
 
It was just as Wes dreamed it had been and
would be again.
 
His hands moved over Angel's smooth warm
skin searching out the curves and angles 
that he had missed so much. He sighed as 
Angel's mouth warm and wet moved across 
each scar he bore from the attack before 
Christmas. 
 
"Angel...lord save me...," Wes moaned as 
that same warm wetness engulfed his cock. 
His fingers tangled in Angel's dark hair 
as his head bobbed up and down, his tongue 
sliding and curling around Wes's pulsing 
flesh.
 
"Please...oh God...please...,"
 
Lifting his head Angel released Wes's 
erection and smiled up at the wild blue 
eyes that had never left his face. "Nope 
not God." Angel laughed as his tongue 
darted out swirling around the tip of 
Wes's cock.
 
"Do you know how much I've wanted this?"
 
With a grin Angel cocked his head---curl-
ing his long fingers around Wes---his eyes 
twinkling like Wes had never seen before. 
Angel gently squeezed him causing Wes to 
buck his hips up.
 
"Don't have a clue Wes." His grin widened.
 
"Jesus...Lord in Heaven...," Wes hissed, 
"...I want you inside me Angel."
 
Angel flicked the leaking tip of Wes's cock
and laughed as Wes hissed again.
 
"Now!" Wes demanded through panting 
breathes. 
 
Releasing his grip on Wes he slipped from 
the bed and retrieved the lube from the 
night stand with a soft snort. "Demanding 
little shit aren't you."
 
Wes turned his head looking up at Angel 
with an annoyed expression. "Yes I am 
when my cock feels as if it's going to 
explode."
 
Laughing Angel leapt on to the bed push-
ing Wes's legs open and back so his heels 
rested against his hips. He just sat there 
for a moment taking in everything about 
Wes that he loved so much.
 
His sharp sapphire eyes.
 
The gruff shadow of beard that emphasized 
his high cheekbones.
 
The curve of shoulders, a length of honey 
gold throat corded with tension, his lean 
muscled chest dusted with dark hair, and 
his darker nipples.
 
"What are you doing Angel?"
 
Angel grinned. "Admiring my own personal
work of art.
 
"Well your work of art is getting impatient."
 
Kneeling Angel squirted lube onto his 
fingers and warmed it before his fingers 
slip between Wes's muscled ass cheeks. He 
massaged the tight opening until his finger 
began to work it's way into Wes's warm 
body. Slowly he worked his finger in and 
out causing small noises to erupt from 
Wes's convulsing throat.
 
"Do you like that?"
 
"Yes...more please," 
 
Angel pulled back slowly, then added a 
second finger stretching Wes wider. He 
smiled as Wes writhed---his fingers curl-
ing into the sheets.
 
"Angel...," he moaned.
 
Angel felt his heart begin to pound at 
the soft sound of his name. A breath of 
desire rose in his lungs as he watched 
the way Wes's spine curved up off the 
mattress, his hips pushing back against 
his fingers, and his chest expanding with 
each breath.
 
He couldn't wait any longer.
 
Pulling his fingers free he smeared the 
remaining lube along his own swollen, 
pulsing cock, then shifted closer. With 
shaking hands he grasp Wes's lean hips 
pulling him close until his ass rested 
on his thighs. 
 
"Wes...I love you," he whispered as he 
positioned the head of his cock and slow-
ly sank in. Past the tight muscle as Wes 
whimpered and into the warm velvet flesh. 
"I love you so much."
 
"Lo...ove you to...," Wes cried out as 
he was stretched and filled with Angel's 
burning erection.
 
Slowly they began to move and Angel gasp 
in passion as Wes bore down. Reaching out 
he lifted Wes up off the bed, his arms 
curling around Wes's neck, his mouth 
claiming and rough. 
 
"Oh God Wes...you feel so wonderful."
 
Wes locked his legs around Angel's hips, 
his heels pressing into the mattress as 
he pushed up with a soft groan. His own 
erection trapped between their hard 
stomachs, rubbing and sliding and creat-
ing a friction that was exquisite.
 
"Angel...God...faster...,"
 
Angel slipped his arms down, his fingers
tightening on Wes's hips. Together they
found the perfect rhythm, their chests
heaving, and their hearts pounding as
one. 
 
A perfect joining of bodies, minds, and
souls.
 
Soon the pace quickened their mouths 
locked in what seemed an endless kiss.
 
Breathes shared---their limbs tangled 
around each other's body---with each 
pump of Angel's hips. Hands searching 
and finding what they sought so des-
perately. Fingers clenching, bruising,
and trying to pull themselves closer 
together.
 
Finally their desperate bodies began to 
climb on a crescendo of fire and passion. 
Writhing and screaming as they came to 
the peak both sweat slicked bodies explod-
ing in unison.
 
Angel threw back his head and screamed out
Wes's name in a guttural roar seconds be-
fore his seed poured deep into Wes. His 
scream was echoed by Wes as his seed 
splattered across both their stomachs 
and chests.
 
Falling to the mattress---Angel still 
buried inside him---Wes pulled his lover 
down on top of him with a contented groan. 
They both lay there panting and sobbing 
for air. Angel's head rested against Wes's 
damp chest, his fingers playing through 
the dark curls of his chest hair.
 
"Are you happy Wes?"
 
Wes's fingers stroked through Angel's 
sweaty hair as his eyes drifted shut. 
"Yes...are you?"
 
"Always."
 
"I promised you." Wes whispered.
 
Glancing up Angel smiled. "Promised?"
 
"That you would breath again."
 
Angel pulled from Wes's still trembling 
body causing Wes to hiss softly. Pushing 
himself up he leaned in kissing Wes slow 
and sweet.
 
"Yes...," he sighed, "...you did."
 
"I wish it were for more than just three 
nights a month...I wish...,"
 
Angel pressed his fingers against Wes's 
lips silencing him. "It's enough Wes...
enough to just know you're here...now...
mo chroi."
 
***
 
Halfway across town in a dark smoky room
Crimson Faire stood staring out a window
at the swollen silver moon.
 
"Did it work?"
 
"Yes...it did." Crimson sighed.
 
"Good. Your payment is here."
 
Crimson turned his eyes widening as he 
looked down the barrel of an automatic 
pistol.
 
"What is this?" 
 
"Your payment."
 
The sudden explosion of the bullet leav-
ing the chamber took him by surprise. That 
look of surprise stayed on his face even 
as the life faded from his pale golden 
eyes.
 
The End