It has been five hours, forty-six minutes and seventeen seconds since the lawyer, Lindsey is what Angel called him, walked in looking like death warmed over and dropped his bombshell.  The arrogant Stanford educated asshole worked for Wolfram & Hart, real baddies that even I heard about in Demon Central, since before he graduated from law school.  Yet, he walked away from his junior partnership because he suddenly developed a conscience.  And he did walk away -- word has it that his bosses put out a contract and the only way they want him back is dead.

That or this is one HELL of an elaborate hoax.

I'm torn.  I wasn't here for most of the past few years, and Angel and I kept up via email or sparse letters, never any personal contact, so I don't know everything about this guy.  If he is genuine he deserves a second chance, and I know that deep down, Angel understands that as well as I do.  But this guy …

This son of a bitch ordered the hit on Cordelia.

Yep, six months ago Lindsey pulled the floor out from under Angel's feet and he's just now starting to really feel any guilt for his years of double dealing, killing and assisting demons.  And there is a part of Angel that understands what it's like to have your soul returned after years of carelessness.  The other part though, vowed to avenge Cordy and here sits the one responsible.  Oh, we all know Faith was the one who actually did the deed, and I'll deal with her soon enough, but here's the man who had the plan.

Now what do we do?

"How dare he come here?"

Angel's body is wracked with repressed rage, and I can feel the tremors as my hands rest on his shoulders.  The rage is not all directed at Lindsey, but also at himself for feeling sympathy for the repentant lawyer.  It's so easy to see himself in the man who is now slouched over a cup of decaf in the kitchen, and he hates that.

"I understand how Rupert must have felt all those years ago," he whispered.

Spike and I shared a look.  So he made that connection, too.  I'm not surprised, it would be hard not to see the parallel -- both lost a loved one to a man who later asks for help after regaining a conscience.  Only Lindsey never really lost his soul, never had a demon take his body to use for its own devious purposes.  He never had to deal with how others, from friends to complete strangers, viewed him in the aftermath even when they knew that it wasn't really him.  No, Lindsey just made some very bad choices that have come back to haunt him -- in the form of guilt.

That is Angel's consolation -- and mine.  Neither of us had any control over the events that were perpetrated with our bodies while we were not in residence.

Damn Faith!

Angel must have felt my brief shift in mood because he looked up, his dark eyes full of anguish, hate, love and remorse.  So many emotions inspired by just one man.  I wonder if I should be jealous … nah.

"How did he do it?"

Spike rolled his eyes and it took a lot of willpower not to strangle the platinum blond vampire that made up the other member of our menage.  He really could be completely unsympathetic at times -- but what should I expect?  He is a demon, after all.  Closer to his humanity, yes, but guilt is still an unknown emotion for him.  Our bed is a strange place; with two souls and two demons in three bodies, it's never boring and always a surprise.

I climbed up on the bed behind Angel to knead his shoulders.  "A wise man once gave me some valuable advice," I told him gently.  "To forgive is an act of compassion.  It's not done because people deserve it, it's done because they need it."

Angel was silent, contemplating his treatment at Giles' hands after his impromptu return from hell.  "I don't know if I'm that big a man," he finally whispered.

"Yes, you are," I stated.  "I know you are, Angel.  It may take time and you may never, ever completely trust him with those you care about … but Angel, he is asking for your help.  He wants to change.  If we send him away … "

Angel snorted, but otherwise remained silent.  The antique clock, one of his few surviving pieces, sat on the dresser ticking away.  The tiny ticks filled the silence and created a harmony to Spike's occasional drag off his cigarette, but the sheer lack of action was bothering me.  Logically I knew that all the 'action' was in Angel's head, but still, it's the principle.

"I don't want him to hurt you, either of you."  His voice was rough, filled with emotions he was unable to repress.  I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed.

"We can take care of ourselves, Angel, you know that.  Yeah, Sunnydale nearly … destroyed us," here I faltered, unable to form all the words I wanted to say.  They were stuck in my throat and suddenly all the feelings I wasn't handling seemed to burst through as my eyes filled with tears.

Spike took over.  "What the Slayer's saying, pet, is that unlike Cordelia we're not drinking ourselves into a bloody stupor and we know how to hold our own in a fight.  Besides, they've got nothing on us but each other and those idiots don't know anyone came out of Sunnyhell -- alive or undead."

Angel bolted off the bed and tossed Spike against the wall, his demonic ridges rising to the surface as he snarled at the younger vampire.  "Don't ever talk about her like that again!"

But Spike, while wary, was undaunted as he blew out a stream of smoke.  "It's the truth Sire, and you know it."

The snarls subsided but Angel continued to growl quietly as he resumed his pacing.  Suddenly he whirled around and fixed us with a look.  "Stay here, both of you.  Do not stir so much as a foot outside of this door."

Then he was gone and we were alone.

An hour later and he still wasn't back.  Spike couldn't hear him anymore, so we assumed he was dealing with Lindsey off premises.  I'm not sure why we obeyed his orders, but we did.  Of course, less than fifteen minutes after Angel left Spike had me flat on my back, his face buried between my thighs as he drove me toward my third orgasm.

I hope Kate left because I didn't even try to be quiet.

When Angel finally graced us with his presence he found us sharing a moment of post-coital bliss, complete with cigarettes and a sweaty Buffy.  He raised an eyebrow as he undressed and slid beneath the sheets to join us, his large body dominating the bed and making us feel completely safe.

I curled up on his chest and kissed the side of his neck as Spike stretched out next to his Sire, their sleek, pale skin pressing together to form a picture I can never resist.  "Well?"

"Lindsey and I have come to an … arrangement.  I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

I realized that he was exhausted, both mentally and physically, so I let it go.  Strange, our bed.  Two souls, two demons, a load or two of guilt and now the shadow of a lawyer … all in one bed shared by the three of us.

Something's gotta give.

The End