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~Part One~

"Oh, no, Lorne, thank you, but I think I lived out my Broadway  fantasies singing about lesbian love and dancing to choreographed magic in the park last month." Willow said, refusing the microphone the Host offered her.

"Someday I'm going to have you explain that, kitten," Lorne grinned, his rubbery green features still giving Willow a slight case of the wig."For now, I think I'll just back away."

"Chicken," Angel teased, sipping a bloody Mary. Well, he wasn't sure if her name was Mary, but anyone who donated O pos to a blood bank on a regular basis was aces in his book. He grinned at the redhead. After what could only be considered a complete and total breakdown, Willow seemed to be pretty well. He'd been alarmed when Xander had called at 4 a.m. just two weeks ago, saying that Willow needed what amounted to magic detox and the Gang needed to get her away from the Hellmouth's mystical energy to do it.  Before Xander could even ask, Angel had offered to let Willow stay with him and Fred at the hotel.  She'd arrived, disheveled, with tear streaks down her cheeks at LAX, to find the whole Angel team waiting for her, it had been a little overwhelming, but she had already formed quite the friendship with Wes and Gunn. Upon a welcoming hug, she had instantly forgiven Cordy for every nasty and humiliating thing she'd ever said to her. And Fred, well, Fred was so happy to have another roommate, she squealed and threw her arms around the redheaded stranger, nearly spraining Willow's neck.  She'd spent hours arranging Willow's new room, painting and picking out neck furniture.

Willow seemed to think she'd been replaced as "spooky smart girl" but in the last week had come to see Fred as simpatico, not competition. At first, Angel worried about Willow.  That's all he did, wander the Hyperion at night and worry about Willow. She kept her door shut tight, but he could hear her labored breathing inside.  She was in pain.  She was basically going through magic withdrawal. Once you get used to having that much power flow through your system, losing it is like losing a limb. But she hadn't used magic in two weeks. When she helped him in his investiagtions, it was structly as "Hacker girl," a role she was almost afriad to return to. She didn't know if she could still cut it, but Cordy was overjoyed to pass that responsibility to someone else. Willow had already managed ot reorganize all of their files into a manageable system and catalogue every demon they'd faced into an easy cross-reference guide. She and wes were currently working on a database that would make translating the Naiazean
scrolls easier. Angel was very proud of her. And more and more, he found that proud feeling slipping into an ache he couldn't quite explain.

"What about you, hot stuff, going to grace us with a number tonight?" Lorne asked Angel, breaking into his thoughts.

"NOO!" Cordy, Wes and Gunn shouted.  Angel looked hurt.  Fred, who had been dying to hear Angel sing, looked disappointed that her friends had thwarted her again. Wes grinned, and lightly poked her in the ribs, to get her to laugh. She did, but only under duress. Darnit, just when she thought she could be mad, Wesley had to be all cute.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with my singing," Angel said.

"Well, there's nothing right with it, either," Cordy snorted.

"Well, little miss Clairol," Lorne said, handing her the mike. "You just take his place."

"Me?" Cordy squeaked.

"Into every generation there is born one whose destiny it is to sing Barabrara Streisandat the top of her lungs in front of a room full of half-drunk demons," Willow told her.

"But Lorne, we talked about this, I'm not ready for this yet." Cordy squeaked.

"Talked about what?" Gunn asked.

"Nothing," Cordy hissed. "Lorne, I can't."

"You can," the Host insisted. "We've talked about this-"

"Talked about what?" Fred asked.

"Nothing," Lorne said, putting the mike in cordy's hand and marching her up to the stage. With no introduction, Cordy selected a song from the catalogue.  Willow groaned when she heard the opening bars to "Greatest Love of All." She remembered all too well cordy's performance at the school talentless show all those years ago, it hadn't been pretty.

"What is she doing?" Lorne muttered.

"Taking out her inspirational Whitney Houston revenge on you," Willow told him.

"That's not the number we -" Lorne seemed to catch himself. "Never mind."

After Cordy screeched her way through the first verse, Lorne nodded. "She's scared out of her wits. Afraid-"

"Afriad what?" Wes asked.

"Nothing," Lorne said.

When Cordy fnished, to a smattering of polite applause, Lorne called up the next performer and took Cordelia's arm, dragging her across the bar and giving her what seemed to be a cross between a scolding and a pep talk.

Cordy returned to the table, looking a little miffed.

"What was that all about?" Angel asked.

Before the seer could answer, Gunn said, "Let us guess, nothing."
 

~Part Two~

"Willow, it's alright," Angel said. "Just hold it for a little while.'

"Angel, I can't, it's just too much," Willow pleaded.

"Just touch it," he pleaded. "It won't hurt, I promise."

"Angel, I am not letting you buy me a $300 leather coat.  It's L.A. for God's sake. The temperature hasn't dropped below 70 since I got here." she said, hoping he wouldn't make a further spectacle of her in the middle of the fashionable vintage shop.

"But it's a great coat, Will," Angel said, holding up the calf-length tailored black coat. "Look at the lines. You'd look … bad."

"Bad?" she asked, grinning. "Like creepy Michael Jackson bad, or `You're about three-seconds from an ass-kicking' bad?"

"The second one," he said.  She giggled and shrugged into it.  Late night shopping had become a regular habit between Angel and Willow.  When she finally admitted she wasn't sleeping at night, Angel suggested watching late night movies on cable, but they could never agree on anything.  Then they took to playing poker, but eventually, Angel got tired of losing. ("Stupid friends with super-human memory for counting cards," he growled.) So now, they hit L.A.'s underground boutique scene every other night.  They never really bought much, but walking around and talking seemed to ease Willow's mind.  They would head back to the Hotel around 4 a.m., before the threat of dawn.  And miracle of miracles, they'd managed to agree on a midnight showing of "Moulin Rouge" that night and both walked away happy.  They'd talked for most of the night about the music, the color and the sad, sad ending. ("I would have eaten the Duke," Angel grumbled.) And now they were standing in Indigo, an incredibly trendy store on Melrose, arguing over the amount of money Angel had spent on her in the last week.  Leather pants, blue jeans, gauzy tops, corset tops, swingy little dresses that would have made Cordy proud. And no matter how much Willow protested, Angel just kept pulling out his credit card.

"You showed up with one measly little suitcase Will, and it's not as if you're being paid for your efforts at the agency," he said.

"I've been meaning to ask about that," she said, grimacing.  "But it's not like I'm doing a lot anyway."

"Oh, please," he said. "That Kroyn demon we bagged last night?  We couldn't have done it if you hadn't programmed that street and sewer map of L.A. into Cordy's palm pilot."

"Thanks," she said, making her reluctant/grateful face, one of the many expressions Angel memorized in the last two weeks.  Willow's breakdown had taken more than her magic away from her.  She'd lost her confidence, her belief in herself and in Tara, a good deal of her identity.  They'd talked about her sexuality during one of their marathon walks through the city.  When she'd fallen in love with Tara, Willow had fallen in love with her as a person.  It wasn't that she didn't like boys anymore, it would just take a very special boy to fill the void left by Tara's love.

"I know I'm never going to get her back," Willow said, to Angel's guilty relief. "I've hurt her too much. I was too arrogant, too blind."

Angel had answered her crying jag with a double chocolate milkshake the size of her head.  He was considerably good at this for a boy, she noted.  Especially a boy whose relationships ended in someone going to hell with bizarre frequency.

Willow finally coaxed Angel into going home.  It was only 3 a.m., but she was really tired. She thought she might actually sleep for more than an hour or so.  Just as they pulled into the Hyperion lot, they saw a dark figure dart across the entrance.  Angel screeched to a halt.  He reached behind the backseat and pulled out a broadsword. Willow withdrew a crossbow from the glove compartment.

"Left flank," Angel whispered as they approached the entrance.  Not knowing what the hell he was talking about, Willow let out a bellowing war cry and charged into the portico.

"Willow!" Angel shouted.

"Willow!" another voice, Cordy's voice, cried from within the foyer. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Cordy?" Angel said.  "What are you doing here?"

"Hello? I live here," she said., a little resentful.  Sure, she'd only been living in the hotel a week, as an answer to Fred's begging and pleading, but she thought they'd at least remember. Wes and Gunn had moved in, too. With someone else paying the mortgage, it didn't make any sense for them to pay rent on their own apartments.  And living in a central location made emergency operations that much easier to handle.   Besides, Cordy sort of liked living that close to Fred and Willow.  She was a typical lonely only child and it was the closest she figured she'd ever get to having sisters.

"Yes, we know, you live here, in the biggest suite, I might add," Willow said. "But what are you here, here, at the front door?  Why are you upstairs asleep?"

"And why is there a gold satin sleeve hanging from your tote bag?" Angel said, eying the strange garment.

Cordy shrieked and stuffed the sleeve back in her bag.  "I'm just out picking up a few last minute things from my apartment, ok? I forgot a few things."

Willow`s brow creased. "But I helped you move out of your apartment, you didn't leave anything behind. Not even the smoke detector, you big thief."

"What is with this interrogation?" Cordy cried. "What is this? Russia?"

"Actually, it's California, love, but I could see how you'd be confused."

Cordy shrieked. Willow and Angel turned their weapons toward the new voice and found Spike standing behind them, of course, smoking and
smirking.

"You look smashing, by the way," Spike told a blushing Cordelia. He smirked.  "Still working out?"

Willow huffed and dropped her crossbow.  Angel was still battle ready and looking even more deadly than usual.  "Angel, relax, it's Spike." Willow said.

"And your point is?" Angel snarled.

"He's not evil, anymore," Willow said.  "He can't be, the chip in his head has left about as threatening as Mr. Rogers on powerful sedatives."

"Hey!" Spike cried.

"Oh, sorry, Spikey," Willow rolled her eyes. "You're still the Big Bad."

Spike preened. "Thank you, now was that so hard?"

"And Spike has actually been quite the Big Help over the last six months.  When Buffy was…. Indisposed."  Willow looked even more confused when Angel didn't even wince at the name of the Slayer.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" Angel asked, lowering his sword the slightest degree.

"Slayer sent me," Spike huffed, stamping out his cigarette. "Apparently I'm a bad influence on Dawn.  The Little Bit gets caught with a teeny weeny little cig and suddenly I'm to blame for her inevitable adolescent experimentation with lung cancer.  So I`m to be on Willow detail until Buffy decides to let me back into Sunnyhell."

"Excuse me," Willow scowled. "Willow detail?"

"Willow doesn't need protection," Angel spat. "She's doing just fine."

"With you?" Spike grinned. "Oh, yes, I bet Lord of the Brood is just the thing a recovering magicaholic needs. I`m not here to protect her you great poof, I`m here to see that she has a bit of fun, recovers quicker.  I`m supposed to teach her how good life can be- and this is a Buffy quote - `as a half-finished, useless-feeling type person.'"

"She thinks I`m what?  Magic handicapped!" Willow screeched.

"Good to see Buffy hasn't lost her compassion," Angel snorted.

"I don't know about you, Red, but I've had about enough," Spike said. "I'm thinking seriously about setting down roots here in L.A."

"Spike, before you even ask, no," Angel barked.

"But it's almost sunrise." Spike whined. "And I haven't slept in a real building in ages. Just moldy old tombs"

"No!" Angel cried.

"Angel," Cordy said. "Be reasonable."

Spike brightened. "Yeah, see? I'm wanted here."

"I wouldn't go that far," Cordy said.

"Fine," Angel sighed, motioning them all through the front door as the sky began lightening to a purple-pink. "Cordy, we're going to talk about this out and about thing, later."

Cordy yawned widely. "I'm suddenly so tired. Well, goodnight."  She scampered up the stairs, unaware of the appreciate glance Spike was giving her swaying form.

"Good night, Angel," Willow said, yawning, but more realistically than Cordy.  She pecked him on the cheek.  His jaw dropped almost as far down as Spike's.  They watched her ascend the stairs in silence, shocked at Willow's affectionate display.

"Bringing her back to play for our team, eh?" Spike grinned. "Good show, Peaches. Pretty little thing like her?  Great loss to our gender at large."

"Shut up, Spike," Angel sighed and padded toward his suite.

"Hey?" Spike yelled after his retreating form. "Where's my room?"
 

~Part Three~

Angel woke to the mother of all ruckuses in the lobby. Fred was screaming. Grabbing a battle-axe instead of pants, he bolted into the living room.

Fred was in Valkyrie mode, standing over spike, sword in hand, screeching. “I don’t know who you are, mister, but you’d better get those hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Angel!” Spike cried. “Call her off!”

Wesley came bounding down the stairs, clad only in some flannel pajama pants. Gunn, Willow and Cordy followed close, armed with an array of weapons.

When Cordy and Willow saw what was happening, they stopped in their tracks, but Wesley threw his arms around Fred and pulled her out of what he considered harm’s way. Gunn covered Spike with a crossbow as Angel convulsed on the floor with laughter. He’d never seen Spike so terrified.
 

“Uh, Angel, you wanna tell us why you’re on the ground with the giggles instead of helping us kill the bad guy?” Gunn asked.
 

“He’s not the bad guy,” Willow said. “He’s Spike. We know him from Sunnydale.”

“Well, you could have said so,” Fred grumbled. “Instead of letting me come downstairs for a bowl of Cheerios and end up with a sword wound for my troubles.”

“Oh, sweetheart, are you hurt?” Wesley asked, looking at the tiny graze on her forearm. His eyes were soft as he inspected every inch of her skin. Fred blushed at “sweetheart” and stammered out an “I’m fine, really,” as Wes dragged her off in search of Neosporin.

“When are those two just going to wise up and date?” Gunn asked. Willow and Cordy shrugged.

“Hello?!” Spike growled. “I’m still on the floor here.”

Gunn withdrew his weapon and helped the blonde off the floor. Spike recovered from the embarassment by smirking at Angel. “Nice boxers, peaches.”

Angel look down and realized he was wearing the “Little Devil” boxers Willow had given him as a gag gift. He yelped and ran back to his room.

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“Bored now,” Willow sang, spinning in her office chair. She’d catalogued, cross-referenced and databased every piece of information in Angel office and had nothing left to do. Gunn and Wes were polishing weapons. Angel was reading. Fred was testing one of her deadly contraptions. Spike was making a general nuisance of himself while blowing smoke rings in Wes’ face.

“Don’t say it like that,” Angel said, shivering. “It gives me the wiggins. Bad memories.”

“Why?” Fred asked.

“The wiggins?” Gunn said, wondering where Angel had picked that up.

“Where’s Cordy?” Willow asked. “Isn’t this usually the time she has a vision?”

“She disappeared,” Angel shrugged. “Something about an errand she had to run. Six hours ago.”

“She sure had been acting peculiar lately,” Fred said. “And that’s something coming from me.”

“I don’t think it’s fair that she gets to keep secrets considering I had to take people with me to the bathroom for the first week I was here,” Willow grumbled.

“We didn’t know if you were going to use magic,” Angel said, as if he had repeated the same sentence a thousand times.

“In the bathroom?” Willow scowled.
 

“There are all sort of things to levitate-” Angel said, scwoling suddenly. “Nevermind.”

“As fascinating as this conversation is,” Wes said, wiping the silver polish from his hands. “Fred, we have that thing, we need to attend to.”

Fred’s eyebrows quirked. “What thing?”

“You know, that thing, we were going to take care of tonight?”

“You mean dinner?” Fred said. “Our reservations are for.... oh.”

She grinned sheepishly and ran upstairs to get ready for their date.

“Shame, shame, I know your name!” Spike crowed.
 

“Wesley and Fred, sitting in a tree,” Gunn sang.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Angel, Spike and Willow chorused.

“Thank you,” Wes said, grimacing. “Thank you for illustrating why we didn’t want to tell you in the first place. Fred and I are dating ,ok? We’re going to dinner and then dancing at a club called the ‘Blue Note.’ We’re dating. Interested in each other.  I get all sweaty and dry mouthed whenever she's around.  I hear Gershwin music in my head.  She makes my heart do that flip-flop thing whenever she comes into a room. Are you happy now?”

“Awwww.” Willow said, sighing. “That’s sweet.”

“Now I don’t know, Wesley, what sort of intentions do you have towards our fred?” Angel asked., grinning. “In the absence of her father and his big rifle collection, I feel the need to step in as her guardian.”

“Oh, shut up,” Wesley sneered, turning on his heel and heading up the stairs. “Save me some hot water, Fred.”

“Oooooh!” the others cried.

Wesley screeched. “For my own shower, dammit! In my own room! Alone! Gah!”

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Wesley cleared his throat as the waitress refilled his wineglass. “Well, Winifred, I m-m-must say that I’ve n-never seen you look so, so so…..”

Fred smiled, which made any words Wes had managed to gather fly right out of his head. She looked stunning. Willow and Cordy had helped her chose a jade green slip dress of a sort of floaty material and pinned her hair up so it tumbled in little corkscrew curls over her shoulders.

“You look so… too, Wesley,” she said, smiling shyly. “I like your tie.”

He grinned and reached across the table for her hand. So far they’d managed to get through dinner without one incident of evil. Now, they were sitting at a cozy little table at the Blue Note, waiting for the featured performer of the evening to begin her first set. Wesley couldn’t believe how well things had gone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a disembodied voice said over the PA. “Please give a warm Blue Note welcome to our featured act tonight, in her singing debut, Sunny Dale!”

Wes’ jaw dropped as spotlight shone on the singer. So much for an incident-free night.

“Oh….. my …..God.” Fred sputtered.

Wes calmly reached into his pocket and pullled out his cell phone. “Angel? I think you’d better get down here, right now.”
 

~Part Four~

"What?" Angel demanded as Wes ushered him through the entrance of the Blue Note, a raspy alto voice sang smoky jazz somewhere inside.  Willow, Spike and Gunn followed, eager to see what had sparked Wesley to interupt his date to call them down there.  Vampire nest?  Mind controlling bartenders? Demon karaoke?  Well, better demon karaoke?

"That!" Wesley said pointing to the stage.  "Cordy's been possessed!"

"Again?" Gunn asked, peering at the stage. A lean brunette in a lacy black dress was singing a cover of Macy Gray's "I try" and not doing a bad job of it.  She swayed suggestively to the music, letting the audience applause let her know what the right moves were.  As the last bars strained, she lifted her face to the crowd and smiled.

"Sweet merciful crap!" Gunn cried.  "That's Cordy!"

"What!?" Spike cried. "No way!"

His jaw dropped as he surveyed his favorite Seers form clad in nothing but black lace. Her dress was completely see-through with the exception of denser lace around her breasts and bikini area. Dear God, that meant, she was.... Spike gulped and reached for the nearest alcohol.  Unfortunately it was a fru-fru maitai type drink.... that belonged to someone.

"Hey!" Lorne said, snatching his empty glass back. "Party foul, my good man."

"Lorne!" Wes said, marveling that he hadn't seen the Host there in the first place.  "What are you doing here?"

"Catching you in the act of your first date, you romantic rogue," Lorne winked.  Wes looked unamused.  "And catching my little engenue in her stage debut, isn't she fabulous?" he grinned. "Taught her everything she knows.  Except that dress.  Do you know she has a terrible aversion to gold  satin?"

Willow remembered the sleeve hanging out of Cordy's bag the night before and slapped her forehead.  This is what the Seer had been up to lately?

 "Her big naughty secret is that she's a closet lounge singer?" Willow asked.  "Well, that's... anticlimactic."

The band behind Cordy kicked into another number, one with almost lewd bass beat and thumping guitar.  Spike recognized another Macy Gray tune, "Caligula."  Oh god.

HUSH THE NEIGHBORS HEAR YOU MOANIN' AND GROANIN'

Spike groaned himself as Cordy's hair fanned out against her cheeks in wild disarray.

I CAN TAKE YOUR BLUES AWAY.
IT'S SO MUCH BETTER WHEN WE DO IT MY WAY.

She seemed to make eye contact with him.  They locked gazes. Instead of looking embarassed, she flashed  him a saucy grin and continued singing. Spike suddenly  had a mental picture of her straddling him, singing those naughty lyrics...

"Well, I don't have to be an empath to tell he's thinkin' about drinkin'," Lorne grinned. "And Cordy...."  The Host' jaw dropped as he surveyed Spike.  "Naughty girl! But can't say I blame her."

"What's she doing here?" Angel asked.

"I'm trying to help Cordy become more empathic," Lorne said, sighing.  "She thinks maybe if she can pick up on vibes from the troubled innocent using the demon residue already inside her, the Powers will ease up on the head-splitting visions. In order to do that, she's got to open herself up.  Face her biggest fear, make a great big jackass out of herself.  Hence, the lounge singing routine.  But she was too emabarassed to tell you lot about it.  For some reason she was afraid you would overeact."

"So now what?" Willow asked. The other shrugged.  Wesley returned to Fred and took her out on the dancefloor. They looked lovely, if not awkward circling the floor in each other's arms, with no rhythm whatsoever.  Spike went looking for nearest source of cold water and Gunn went in search of a beer. Lorbe signalled the bartender for a refill.  Angel smiled at her and tried to avoid looking at the dancefloor. Willow cleared her throat.

*Please God, if he asks me to dance, I'll never use magic again.  I'll never even be tempted.  If he just asks me-*

"Wanna dance?" Angel asked.

*DOH!!*
 

~Part Five~

“Her name was Lola! She was a showgirl!” Spike crowed, a whiskey in one hand and a the Caritas karaoke mike in the other. Angel winced. Hell hadn’t been this bad. But Willow was laughing, so he let it continue. Maybe Lorne kept cotton balls somewhere around here…

After Cordy’s wildly successful debut, they’d all gone to Lorne’s for a celebratory drink. “A drink” had turned into a few dozen and now they were all stumbling around the Caritas dance floor piss drunk and having a wonderful time of it as Spike mutilated Barry Manilow songs. Willow promised herself that if she could remember this in the morning, she was going to give Spike hell.

At the bar, Cordy and Lorne were playing a drinking game involving a shot every time one of them picked up an image from Spike’s singing. So far, Cordy was just picking up patches of thought and Lorne was so drunk his face was actually a peachy flesh tone.

“You’re not feeling anything?” Lorne asked.

“I can’t even feel my face,” Cordy said, slapping her cheeks. “If the Powers send me a vision tonight, the Innocent of the world are in a shitload of trouble.”

“He wants you, kitten, in some naughtiest ways this country gal‘s ever seen,” Lorne slurred, nodding at Spike. “He wants to nibble on places on you I can’t even name. But he wants more…. He wants.” Lorne’s red eyes rolled back into his head as he passed out.

Willow looked down at his crumpled form behind the bar. “Should we pick him up?”

Cordy shook her head and poured herself a shot. “Nah, he looks comfy.”

Angel came up to the bar, wearing puppy dog eyes. “Willow please give me another chance.”

“No!” Willow cried. “I need my toes, Angel. I like my toes.” Angel winced as he remembered their disastrous first dance at the Blue Note. He’d been so nervous that he trampled on her feet not one, but seven times, before the song was half-over. Willow finally excused herself and went to the bathroom to apply some ice.

“I was too sober then,” Angel said. “I know I can do better now.”

“Oh come one, Will,” Cordy said. “I have seen him dancing around his room when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s a regular Fred Astaire.”

Angel blanched. “You’ve seen me do that?”

Cordy grinned. “There was singing, too.”

Angel pulled Willow away as Cordy was distracted by images coming from Spike’s crooning. His hands tangled in her hair. His muscular form bent over hers, his back rippling as his lips traveled the length of her body. His hands on her thighs.

“Go on, you two,” she waved them away, looking a little flush. “Have fun.”

Cordy went to the stage as Willow and Angel took to the dance floor. “Come on Spikey, let someone else have a turn. I want to dance.”

“Oh! Me!” Fred cried, reluctantly pulling out of Wesley’s embrace. Spike bowed deeply and relinquished the mike with a flourish. Wes joined Gunn, the designated driver, at his table where he was drinking a soda and taking notes to embarrass them all in the morning.

“Isn’t she wonderful?” Wes asked with a dreamy look on his face as Fred selected a song from the catalogue.

Gunn shrugged. “She’s alright, if you like that beautiful, smart, charming thing, personally, I like my women a little freakier but-”

“I’d marry her right now if she’d have me,” Wes sighed.

Gunn’s jaw dropped. “Hey man, marriage is a big step. If you get married now, what will you do on your second date?”

Wesley nodded. “I know I know, we need more time together. But if this life with Angel and you lot has taught me anything, it’s grab happiness when you can and hold on to it, because who know what could happen next.”

Gunn nodded. “Good point. But I still think you should wait a while.”

“So I shouldn’t show her the ring tonight?” Wes asked.

“You bought a ring!”

Wes grinned. “Just kidding.”

Willow shivered as Angel’s arms slid around her. His hand slipped into hers, pulling her tight against him.

“At last……My loooove has come along,” Fred sang in a remarkably strong voice. “My lonely days are over…. And life is liiiiike a sooooong.”

They began to sway and she prepared for his feet to start bringing the pain. But they glided across the floor with ease. He led her like a sailboat across the water, dipping and swirling on the whims of the wind. She let her head rest on his shoulder. The scent of her shampoo wafted up to Angel’s nose, making his chest hurt somehow. He buried his face in her red curls, hoping to savor the moment forever.

But Willow looked up at that very moment, making Angel’s lips brushed against her forehead. He stiffened, but she smiled, slowly craning her neck so her lips met his. He groaned at the first contact of their kiss. The sweet gliding of her flesh against his was almost enough to make him cry out.

“Now what?” Willow asked, almost afraid.

“We keep dancing,” he whispered. “Just keeping dancing.”

Meanwhile Spike, almost shyly, wrapped his arms around Cordy. He couldn’t seem to make eye contact with her. He stared off into space, trying to keep his impulse to kiss her in check. To distract himself, he began singing along, his lips lightly pressed against her forehead.

Images came at Cordy in a dizzying wave. Spike’s hands on her face, cradling her cheeks as he kissed her. The tender look he was giving her as he slid into her for the first time. His hands splayed on her back as she rode him. Her eyes widened. The visions were some much stronger. She could taste him, smell the scent of leather and tobacco.

“What is it, love?” Spike murmured as her form went rigid.

“I think we should go,” she said. “Right now.”

“But pet, I wanted to sing ‘Mandy.’”

“Spike, I think we should back to the Hotel, right now,” she said, emphasizing the word ‘hotel.’ spike finally got it. Hotel, lots of beds. HALLELUJAH!

He grabbed his duster and helped her slip into her wrap. “Cordy’s kind of tired, so I think we’ll take a cab home.”

“But Spike, you don’t have to go,” Willow said.

“I’d hate for her to be out there all alone,“ he said, bustling out the door. “Besides, if I’m going to get with this superhero gig, you know protect the innocent and all that, I need practice.“

“I’m not that innocent,” Cordy whispered.

Spike grinned.

“What got into them?” Willow asked.

“Lots of liquor,” Angel nodded.
 

~Part Six~

“Wesley, I had a real nice time tonight even if we thought for a brief second that Cordy was demon-possessed,” Fred drawled as Wes carried her up the stairs, thrown over his shoulder. She’d been to drunk to stand when Gunn had pulled the care into the lot.

Angel was helping a woozy Willow to her room. Wes prayed for the strength it would take for him to go back to his own room, alone. He didn’t want to rush Fred, especially on their first date, even if his every nerve was screaming for her.
 

As they passed Cordy’s suite they heard the shatter of glass breaking. They stopped, wondering whether everything was alright. Then they heard a rhythmic thumping sound and Spike’s cry “Oh, sweet mummy!” Wes shushed Fred giggles as he took her into her own room, which had improved considerably since the cave girl “listen listen listen” days. The walls were a stark white, the bed was covered in a strange patchwork quilt made of bright jewel tone silks strung with metallic embroidery. A desk covered in books occupied most of one corner. Gauzy curtains of many layered colors covered the windows. In a her one concession to cave girl days, a pallet of silky blankets and pillows was arranged in corner, when Fred needed to wallow.

“Alrght,” Wes said, setting her on her feet. “Here we are.”

She smiled loopily. “I had a wonderful time, Wesley.”

“I did too, Winnifred.”

“Which is why I think we should go on a lot more dates,” she nodded. “Except I think a little less drinking next time. Did you see Gunn? He was out of control!”

He grinned. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“And if we’re going to go out some more,” Fred said, chewing her lip. “I think we should sleep together.”

Wesley began coughing to cover up the urge to scream like a teenybopper on TRL. “But, Fred, don’t you think we should wait a little while?”

At possibly the worst moment ever, from the next room, they could hear the sound of Cordy’s headboard snapping in half. Wesley cleared his throat., suddenly his tie felt very tight. He had always expected Fred to be rather demure when it came to bedroom matters. He was comfortable with demure. How the hell was he going to explain that he was a 34-year-old virgin?

She giggled. “Of course, silly, how are you going to know if you’re compatible with someone unless you sleep together?”

Wesley’s jaw dropped. “Well, Fred, I wasn’t expecting this, I uh, didn’t bring any protection.”

“Why would you need protection?” Fred asked, kissing him. All rational thought flew out of Wes’ mind as her lips slid against his. “I promise not to hurt you.”

“Alright then,” he squeaked.

“Good,” she said, backing into her bathroom. “You just lie there, wait for me and I’ll go get ready.”

“R-ready?” he stammered as she shut the door.

“Oh God, oh God oh God oh God,” he said, wondering whether he should just bolt out the door. No, damnit, he’d run all of his life from hard situations- he glanced down and chuckled dismally at the horrible pun. He took a steeling breath. “Right, first thing. Clothes off.”

He stripped down to his boxers and slid under Fred’s sheets. “Now what?”

He sat up as Fred’s bathroom door came open. She emerged, wearing a bright blue tank top and a pair of loose pajama pants printed with math equations, a gift from Willow. Wes’s brow creased. Fred’s hair was pulled up, her face was clean and shiny. What the?

Suddenly, he got it. She really wanted to sleep together. And that was it. He laughed at himself and lifted the blankets for her slide in next to him. He tucked them over her as she snuggled into his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, grinning when her lips brushed his neck. She smelled so good. He could sleep like this every night for the rest of his life.

“I’m really very fond of you, Fred,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Wesley.” she whispered back as she drifted off to sleep.

A few moments later, his voice interrupted the symphony of moans and groans from the next room. “Can we soundproof this wall?”

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

“One bourbon, one shot, one beeeeeeeeeer,” Willow rasped as Angel carried her into her room. “I like that song.”

Angel grinned as he sat her down on her bed with the exotic cobalt blue spread. “I know, you sang it all the way home. There are other words to it, you know.”

She grinned up at him. “I could do with another kiss.”

He smiled and gave her a playful, smacking kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him to her on her bed. His weight felt so good on top of her. That was something she’d missed with Tara, who was afraid she was too heavy for Willow. She didn’t understand the comfort of being covered by the one you love.

But he was holding back, she could tell. “What’s wrong?”

“Will, I don‘t know if-“ He sat up, bringing her with him. The truth was, he didn’t know if Willow was ready for, well, hetero sex again. It could be traumatic and she was piss drunk and he wanted her to remember every minute, hell, every hour as he made love to her. She seemed to be rushing things and as much as he wanted her, he couldn’t let her hurt herself for the sake of his pleasure.

“Angel,” she said, her eyes pleading. *Please don’t say there’s something wrong with me. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a boy, but I think I remember how it works. Please, I want you so much.*

“I’m not ready, yet, Willow,” he said. “The last time I had sex, well, bad things happened.”

She thought he was thinking of Buffy, not knowing about the incident with Darla. Either way, Angel’s sexual history could only be construed as sordid.

“You don’t want me,” she said, her face crumpling.

“No!” he shouted. He winced and lowered his voice. “That’s the opposite of my problem. I want you too much. Willow, if I don‘t jump into a freezing shower right now, I‘m afraid of what I could do to you.”

“Really?” she said, brightening.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, looking pained.

“Well, you better go jump in the tub then,” she grinned.

He kissed her, tucking her under the blankets in her party clothes. He gave her a kiss and ran out the door for open frigid arms of his shower.

“Somehow, I don’t think this worked out the way it was supposed to,” Willow grumbled.
 

~Part Seven~

  Angel woke, stretched across the foot of Willow's bed.  He sat up with a start.  He had no idea how he got there.  He was fully clothed. He looked over to Willow's curled sleeping form, so was she. She was so beautiful as she slept, her mouth puckered into a little pout as she rolled, seeking warmth under the blankets.  Her hair spread out in a silken scarlet fan on the pillow. He touched her cheek, feeling its velvety softness.  She leaned into the caress, a smile blooming on her lips even in sleep.

 He forced himself out of the bed and into a comfy velvet chair she kept near  the bed.  Last night, he'd fallen asleep on his own bed, thinking how much he'd wished he was with Willow.  He'd never been known to sleepwalk.  Surely, Willow hadn't used magic.  If she had, he'd probably be naked and a lot happier.

 He'd figure it out later, he promised himself.  Willow stirred, tunneling out from her cocoon of blankets.  She grinned at him, her eyes squinty.  "Hi."

 He moved to the bed, laying on top of the blankets. "Good morning."

 Willow stretched a sheet over her mouth, she'd seen Julia Roberts do it in a movie once, it seemed to ward off morning breath.  Angel grinned and kissed the sheet over her lips.  He had to get her out of this bed, otherwise he might not ever let her out.

 "Hungry?" he asked. She nodded.  He took her hand and pulled her out of bed.  She stood there in her "Bewitched" pajamas, which gave Angel a good laugh.  She scowled as he threw a robe over her and threw her over his shoulder.

 "Not all of us wake up with perfectly mussed hair, you know," she grumbled as he carried her down the kitchen.

 Spike and Cordy were already downstairs, making waffles.  Actually, they were cooing and giggling- in a manner that disgusted people who HADN'T spent the last ten hours having sex.  Cordy was on the counter, with Spike standing between her legs, licking and sucking on her neck as if there were no tomorrow.  At first Angel thought he might be feeding from her, a thought that brought anger surging to the surface like he had never known.  but Cordy's constant giggling was definitely NOT a sign of someone being drained. Now he had to deal with controlling the anger involved with Spike sleeping with one of his closest friends - and that Cordy was wearing the blue silk robe he gave her for Christmas last year to seduce his childe.

"Spike." Cordy said.

"Yes, my little creme brulee?"

"Waffles," she said, pointing behind him to a cloud of smoke forming over the griddle.

"Alright, I'll call you 'waffles' if you call me 'your big - oh  bloody hell!" he yelled, turning to extinguish the builing flames.  Angel and Willow's jaws dropped in unison when they saw the myriad of scratches down Spke's bare back.  It looked like he got into a fight with a Quisinart and lost.

"My hero," Cordy said sarcastically.

Spike turned and grinned. "That's right, I'm your big white-hat hero, fully equipped with the righteous indignation to rid the world of big evil.  Now give us a kiss."

The couple began pawing and smacking at each other.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Angel muttered.  Willow shushed him.

"Morning, guys," Cordy said brightly, pulling away from Spike. "Post-hangover coffee?"

"And keep it coming?"  Willow nodded.  She actually didn't feel to bad, but anything was better than watching Spike and Cordy make out.

"I wonder how Fred's doing," Spike said, plucking a golden brown waffle from the griddle and feeding it in little bits to Cordy. "I get the impression that was her first tangle with Jack Daniels."

"Fred feels like Cordy when she's having one of her visions," Fred said, shuffling into the kitchen. She was wearing sunglasses and Wesley's robe.  Her hair was haphazardly bunched on top of her hair.  Wesley soliticiously helped her onto a stool and went to fill an ice bag for her.

"How'd you sleep Fred?" Cordy asked, smirking. During one of their down cycles, Cordy had heard Fred and Wesley talking through the wall long after they'd all gotten home.  She could only assume they'd slept int he same room.

"Just fine, thank you," Fred said. "Wesley makes an excellent electric blanket. Of course we didn't have loud sweaty sex all night. But it was real nice, waking up with him looking down at me, touching my face and he had really sweet, soft look in his eyes-"

Wesley interupted her by holding an ice bag over her face.  He blushed. "Here, sweetheart, hold this there."

"So what's on the agenda for the day?" Spike asked. "Is Cordy going to try to hide her career as a hotline psychic from us? Some big evil's going to walk through the door, and conviniently outline his plan to destroy the world?"

"Christmas shopping," Cordy said, sipping her coffee.

Willow nodded.  "Or in some cases, Hanakkah shopping for gifts that will be wrapped in red and green paper. It's only a week or two away."

"We will defeating evil marketing tactics at the mall," Fred said.

"Are you sure you're up to it, Winnifred?" Wesley asked, thinking of the multiple vomiting incidents upstairs.

"But, Cordelia, love, I thought we could back upstairs and..." Spike made a few desperate head jerks and an unhappy face.  But Cordy laughed and kissed him.

"Charge up for later, sweety, you're going to need it," she set down her coffee. "Come on, girls, 60 percent off sales wait for no woman."

"I'm afraid," Angel said.

"Very afraid." Wesley nodded.

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