&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Part 19
 

He stood in the doorway of his office, watching his Mate with a sly, satisfied smile on his face. Somehow, they'd managed to actually get out of bed before noon, which was an oddity to him after more than two centuries of sleeping away the daylight hours. Of course, that had all been before Willow... before he'd found out what it truly meant to love someone else more than his own life. It was a strange sensation, but one he knew she shared. He could tell. "Willow..." he purred softly, still just watching her, "What about our picnic?"

She'd been surprised when she'd seen the computer disk on her desk, and even more surprised by the note that accompanied it. How in the *hell* had Gunn gotten his hands on confidential files from Wolfram & Hart? It had puzzled her for a while-- worried her, as well-- until she'd realized that the very fact of the disk's presence, along with a note from the man in question, proved that whatever he'd done, he'd come through it just fine. Still, she was going to have to speak with him about risking himself too much for peripheral matters. Of course, since he *had* gone to so much trouble, she figured she should at least take a look at whatever information there was. She was sitting quietly at her desk, waiting for her decryption program to complete, when she felt her Mate's heavy eyes on her, and she grinned. He'd almost literally worn her out the night before, but apparently her new 'immortal' status allowed her to replace her energies very quickly, because she felt quite rested after only a few hours of sleep. She'd actually forgotten their plans for the day until she heard his question. Her eyes lit up, even as she spun her chair to face him. "Hmmm..." she replied, her voice just a silky as his had been, "Angel in sunlight..."

He could feel his entire body tensing as she stood and stalked towards him, and he shivered slightly, suddenly sure he knew what it felt like to be hunted. Small, anticipatory tremors raced over his skin, and he smiled shakily when she stopped in front of him, her small, warm hand taking his much larger and cooler one gently. "Will," he sighed, his every instinct screaming to take her back upstairs.

"Uh-uh," Willow smirked, tugging him along as she backed towards the courtyard doors, "The sun's out *there*." She could feel the slight worry he was feeling, and stopped just short of the threshold, her other hand moving up his chest to the back of his neck. She stared hopefully into his eyes, and pulled him down for one soft kiss. "This can wait, if you're not sure," she told him, forcing herself not to just drag him out behind her.

He almost wanted to take her up on that. The sun had been his enemy for over two hundred years, after all, and as appealing as it sounded, he suddenly wasn't entirely convinced that that had changed. Still, he *did* want to hold her in the warm, yellow glare, and he didn't want to disappoint her. Not ever. "No," he finally said, pressing closer to her, "Let's do it." He held his breath, waiting for the pain as she pulled him into the light.

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

She climbed slowly from the shower, her body aching in ways she'd never felt before. Of course, she figured that was probably because she'd been *doing* things she'd never done before. Or *one* thing, in particular. And it had been... unbelievable. *He'd* been unbelievable. He'd been sweet, and kind, and so very attentive to her during that last bit, and earlier? He'd been just rough, and harsh, and demanding enough that she'd found him irresistible.

Fred sighed, even as she dried off with her towel. Even in the midst of things, he'd never gotten like the other demons she'd known in Pylea. He hadn't hurt her; in fact, he'd gone out of his way *not* to. She'd almost been worried by that, afraid that he wasn't going to feel all the things his kind enjoyed, but... Lorne wasn't like the rest of his people, she reminded herself.

She sighed again, wincing slightly as she pulled her clothes on over her claw-pricked skin, the slightly arousing twinges making her wish she'd just stayed. Maybe he wouldn't have minded. Hell, maybe he would have been *glad*!

A sad smile crossed her lips, even as she rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror. No, Fred, she told herself, stop trying to kid yourself. Lorne's much too good for you; he's probably thrilled that he woke up alone.

She allowed herself one short nod at the thought before opening the bathroom door and stepping out into the hall. Cordelia would want to know where she'd been all night; she wished she had a good lie.

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

Lilah forced herself to look welcoming as her former agent strolled into the office. She'd been so sure that she'd selected the right person for the job, but obviously she'd been wrong. Oh, it had started out well enough, but everything had gone to hell in a hand basket in the last six weeks, and ultimately, it was all the fault of the person standing in front of her desk. "Sit down," she offered, gesturing generously to the plush chairs, "Drink?" She stood and mixed the usual, passing it across the desk before resuming her seat. "Well?" she demanded after a moment or two.

The agent sighed, taking one more sip from the glass. "It's not my fault," Tara said angrily, "You sent me there too late; she already loved him. I never stood a *chance*!"

Lilah groaned silently as the girl went on. Of *course* it wasn't Tara's fault. Nothing ever was. She barely kept herself from jumping up and slapping the girl as she wished-- not for the first time-- that she'd never 'rescued' the blonde from that backwoods, freakish father of hers.

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

If it hadn't been for the jewelry still spread out around his rooms, he would have thought that he'd dreamed the whole thing. He'd been certain of it when he'd woken up alone. But the silver net, with its red stones, was still on the floor, the necklace was laying on the table by his bed, and Gods, he swore he could still smell her on his skin.

She'd *left* him! Regardless of everything they'd shared, she'd just... slipped away without even a word. Hell, she hadn't even bothered to be clichéd and leave a *note*, and that just... pissed him off no end.

His face had been set in hard, angry lines ever since he'd realized she was gone, and he seriously doubted that was going to change any time soon, because he'd *thought* that their night together had *meant* something to her! He'd thought they were *starting* something, and he couldn't quite grasp why she would have bothered with him if she didn't care.

And it couldn't have been easy for her, he knew; not when he looked so much like the others of his kind who had only used her and tossed her aside. Not when he'd been such an animal at first. But she'd stayed when he'd asked her to, and she'd let him... Well, okay, *he'd* let *her*, but still! They'd been together in the fashions of *both* their peoples, and it had all been just... overwhelming to him. And yes, her innocence in human ways had surprised him, especially considering the skills she'd displayed with his, but...

His eyes opened wide, even as his expression became one of slack-jawed comprehension. Freddie was scared. She was afraid that he saw her the way his kind in Pylea had, and the fact that he'd acted like one of them, but not, probably had her more confused than anything else. She probably had no *idea* that he was upset at finding himself alone; after all, the rest of his people would have preferred that. They wouldn't have wanted to be reminded of their 'perversions' with a 'cow'.

"Right," he told himself out loud as he gathered up the items Fred had worn so briefly, "I guess I'll just have to show her that she's *wrong*." He nodded determinedly, placing the armbands, necklace, and ghretschnad carefully back in their chest. "The question is," he finally admitted, "How?"

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

Willow was still giggling as she darted swiftly across the lobby of the old hotel. After all his hesitation, her Mate was out in the sunlight, and he wasn't showing any signs of coming in anytime soon.

Not that she minded. He was, after all, just as beautiful in the white-ish glare as she'd thought he'd be. He was far too pale, though, and that was why she'd chosen to be the one to come inside for food for them both. Her smile grew even wider as she passed into the kitchen and bustled about warming blood and making herself a sandwich. In all their focus on going outside for their 'picnic', neither one of them had thought about taking any *food*, which only proved to her that deep down inside, they were convinced that they *could* 'live on love'.

She pulled a can of soda from the fridge, holding it beneath her arm as she carried her plate and Angel's mug back across the lobby. Her breath caught in her throat as she paused in the doorway to the courtyard and saw him. He was laying back against the slate, shirt pillowed beneath his head, arms spread wide to either side of his shirtless body. "Angel," she whispered, her skin tingling all over.

The display he was putting on had been intended as much for her benefit as for the fact that he was glorying in the sun's heat on his flesh. A swift, sly smile spread across his lips as he heard her low, breathy murmur of his name, and he turned his head, eyes cracking open to look at her there in the doorway. "Hey, baby," he purred, moving onto his side. He propped himself up on one elbow, and gave her what he hoped was a 'come-hither' look. "That was quick," he told her, dipping his head towards the items in her hands.

Gods, he was such a ham! But he was *her* ham, and if he wanted to go out of his way to be all sexy and enticing, who was she to complain? As long as he saved that particular little 'act' for her, she certainly didn't mind. She smiled just a touch wickedly and crossed the flagstone. "Not much to it," she explained, handing him his mug and sitting down beside him, still holding her plate, "Blood in the microwave, some meat on some bread..." She didn't try terribly hard to appear less flustered than she was, and she laughed softly when he pulled the plate from her hand, and the can from under her arm, placing them down on the stone beside him.

He sat fully up, drawing his witch smoothly into his lap. "And here I thought it was because you couldn't bear to be apart from me for any longer..." His nose slid into the hair beside her neck, and he breathed deep of her scent, a contented rumble building in his chest as she shivered slightly against him. "Love you, Will," he couldn't help but say.

She leaned harder into him, her neck arching, and she gasped softly when she felt his strong, wet tongue sweep lovingly-- longingly-- over his mark. Her fingers slipped up his back and into his hair as she pressed his cool mouth harder to her skin. "Here, Angel," he begged quietly, "Here in the sunlight..."

Angel's eyes closed slowly, his features slipping gently to true. He couldn't deny her anything; why bother trying? His hands roamed wonderingly up and down her sweet spine as he slid his sharp teeth gently into his mark. He sighed, purely internally, and opened his connection to her wide, letting her feel just how blessed he was to taste her that way in the light of day.

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

Cordelia sighed to herself, stealing yet another glance at her roommate from the corner of her eye. She wasn't entirely sure of what was going on, but she was almost certain that Fred was lying to her. Only problem was that she wasn't sure of why the other girl would bother. None the less, she was pretty sure that Fred hadn't spent the entire night at a Three Stooges revival in West Hollywood; mostly because... West Hollywood! Hell, if there was gonna be *any* kind of an all-night film festival there, it would have revolved around Barbra; *not* a group of sweaty, stinky guys who weren't even funny! No, Fred was lying for some reason. Now she just had to figure out what that reason was. "So... it was *fun*?"

Cordelia didn't believe her. She could tell. Not that she blamed the dark-haired Seer, because it really *didn't* sound likely. Still, it was better than the reaction she would have gotten to the *truth*. What would she have said, after all? 'Gee, Cordy, sorry you were worried, but I couldn't manage to drag myself away from the green-skinned red-eyed demon I was having *sex* *with* for long enough to call you.'? That would have gone over *real* well, she was sure. Besides, she didn't particularly want the other girl knowing just what kind of a whore she was. "It was... odd," she said again, forcing out one of her strange-sounding giggles. It wasn't easy, but she did it.

It was the odd laugh that truly betrayed her friend's lie. Fred hadn't laughed like that since the week after they'd gotten back from Pylea. No, as soon as the physicist realized that a real laugh wouldn't get her in trouble, that strained, strangled-sounding tone had gone away. She glanced at the girl one more time, and nodded shortly. *Something* was 'odd', all right, but it wasn't the Three Stooges. Still, she was Cordelia Chase; she'd figure it out eventually. "Well, good," she finally said, pulling into the space by the door of the hotel. Angel hadn't really cared when she'd had CC painted on the small stretch of pavement, but he'd been less than thrilled when he found out she'd paid for it with Agency funds. But he'd owed her a birthday present, so she figured they were even. "Let's get to work," she said, climbing from the car.

Fred sighed, watching her friend walk into the hotel. She'd have to be careful around Cordelia for a while; at least until the Seer forgot about the night before. She shrugged, closing the door on the passenger side of the car, and followed the girl through the double doors.

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

He'd been researching the situation as much as he possibly could at home, although he wished desperately that he had the resources available to him at the office. Still, he couldn't quite face Willow *or* Angel just yet. Not after the way he'd failed them. Neither of *them* seemed to have noticed, but he had been the one who'd searched Tara for weapons. It was *his* fault that the girl had managed to hurt Willow.

That knowledge had been eating away at him ever since, and he was quite surprised to realize that he suddenly understood the dark-haired vampire's need for redemption.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about what had already happened, so he'd turned his attention to finding another witch for the Sunnydale group. They truly *needed* one; especially if they were going to continue fighting the 'good fight'.

Wesley had no illusions about whether the old gang would do just that, or not. They would. They'd been doing so for far to long to give up just because they no longer had a Slayer to take the brunt of things. Not that he blamed them. It would have been virtually impossible for any of them to sit back and just... live, what with knowing exactly what was out there in the darkness.

The problem was, he clarified to himself, that *true* witches were few and far between. Oh, there were certainly hundreds-- thousands, or more, actually-- of people out there who *called* themselves witches, but ones who could tap into the powers within themselves, much less the energies surrounding them? Well, those sorts were terribly rare, and the odds of finding one who'd be willing to move to the Hellmouth, and risk their life on a daily basis?

He sighed, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. "Good Lord," he moaned quietly, "It's bloody well hopeless." Still, he couldn't quite give up. Not yet.

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

He'd tried to act as upset as the others were when they'd come back, and he was almost certain that he'd pulled it off, but fact was... He was actually *happy* for Red. Oh, he questioned her taste in men, of course, what with his Sire being such a great, lumbering oaf of a pouf, but if the girl was happy, then who was he to judge? He'd only wanted to stake the bastard when he'd thought he'd mistreated the little redhead. Now that he knew that nothing could be further from the truth, he didn't much care either way.

He'd never liked the little blonde witch, anyway. There had always been something just a bit... off... about her; he'd thought so from the very beginning, but he hadn't been entirely sure until he'd hit her that time. Sure, his head had hurt, but nowhere *near* as much as it should have. She'd known it, too.

He almost felt bad about keeping her secret, but the Watcher hadn't really been paying him enough, and who was *he* to turn down some easy cash? He'd figured it was her witchy-blood she was hiding, although looking back, that didn't really make much sense. Still, he'd been sure she wouldn't ever hurt the girl she'd claimed to love.

He'd been wrong, though. The blonde had shot Red with a bloody crossbow!

A small smirk crossed his lips then. At least the redhead had gotten her revenge. Poor little bitch was minus her powers, and didn't look like she'd be getting them back any time soon. "Damn," he murmured, eyes locked on the commercial playing silently on the television, "Red would have made one *hell* of a vampire..."

He thumbed the mute button swiftly as Passions came back on, putting all thoughts of anything but his story from his mind. Besides, Dawn would be getting home soon; wouldn't do for him to look too thoughtful. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
 

next