The Offering

By Esmeralda

Part Six

"What!?" Wesley exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "Are you forgetting that we're not all able to-" Angel jumped and Wesley found himself addressing an empty space.

The fire escape shook and rattled as it absorbed the impact of Angel's landing. He turned, gripping the rail with his legs and holding out his arms.

Spike had transferred the girl to one arm in order to place a finger against her lips. "Sssh," he instructed. "Not a peep out of you, Little Bit." She stared at him, pale eyes wide and round. Before Wesley could speak out in protest, Spike had thrown her toward Angel. She sailed across the gap; a fluttering figure of light and dark. Angel caught her effortlessly and gently set her down on the steps behind him.

Spike turned to Wesley with a malicious grin. "You're next."

Wesley shook his head in horror. "What? No. You can't mean to-" He flinched as Spike reached out with a hand toward his face.

Spike just shook his head as he removed Wesley's glasses, folding them up and tucking them into Wesley's shirt pocket.

Wesley heard a mutter of: "Prat." Then he was spirited away from the relative safety of the ledge as if he weighed no more than the girl. Wesley closed his eyes - confronted with a moment of pure terror - as Spike hurled him out into nothingness. There was the rush of cold air past his face, accompanied by a strange sense of disorientation; he didn't know if he was flying or falling. Then he impacted with a solid wall of muscle that had to be Angel's chest.

Wesley opened his eyes and mumbled: "Thank you." He sat down next to Shekaa.

"Tzsenka," she whispered excitedly.

"Is she all right?" Angel asked, glancing back at them.

Wesley paused in the process of putting on his glasses and stared at the girl. Then he slid them up onto his nose and turned to address Angel in a weary tone. "She wants to know if she can do it again."

Angel greeted this statement with the stunned silence it deserved.

Doyle joined them. Wesley frowned as he then watched Xander launch himself safely across, apparently unassisted. A feat that should certainly have been impossible for any human - except a Slayer. Something Xander Harris was most definitely not. Wesley filed this facet away for future reference as they were on the move, heading upwards - much to his confusion.

Wesley felt awkward and almost unbearably loud in comparison to his four companions. Even Spike, carrying the girl and wearing those lumbering boots, seemed able to tread noiselessly on the metal stairway. When they reached the roof they continued along it, staying low. Two-thirds of the way across, the girl let out a cry. Spike put his hand over her mouth, holding her firmly when she struggled. "Sssh. Quiet, Little Bit." At the implicit warning in his voice she went still.

Wesley quietly tried to discover what had alarmed her; addressing the others in a low whisper. "The frog's gone," he explained. "She thinks that she dropped it."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Just tell her the fuckin' thing's magic and it'll come back later."

Wesley did; Shekaa seemed to accept his explanation, and they reached the other side of the roof without further incident. Wesley was mystified as to where they were expected to go now. His muscles clenched in panic as Angel simply jumped, leaping to the next apartment block. So began a nightmarish journey. Wesley was completely reliant upon Spike and Angel to aid him as they went way from roof to roof. He was increasingly bothered by the fact that Xander and Doyle required little in the way of assistance. Of course Doyle was a demon, but Xander had him puzzled and concerned.

However, he had no time to think on it as they finally took another fire escape to the alleyway below. Wesley fought off a slightly hysterical urge to kneel and kiss terra firma. They didn't remain above ground for long. Angel tugged aside a manhole cover and they descended into the bowels of the city. Wesley was beyond miserable. He was cold, wet and the smell was making his eyes tear up. He wiped at them as he cursed the sludge that was soaking through the leather of his shoes.

It was too dark for him to clearly - which was probably a blessing. He tried to feel his way along the walls, something that proved difficult as they were coated with slime and other unpleasantness. He wasn't sure what happened next; his foot seemed to get caught and when he tried to regain his balance he ended up sitting in ankle deep murky water. He tried to stand and fell again; losing his glasses in the process.

"Fuck," he swore, groping around in the sludge. To his amazement, Xander came to lend a hand.

The young man unearthed them quickly. "Here." Xander held them out to Wesley, who stared at the slimy guck covering them in dismay. "They're okay." Xander took a tissue out of his pocket and gave them a quick wipe. "Can you see through them?" he asked, as Wesley put them back on.

"Probably not," said Wesley bitterly. "But since I can barely see anything anyway, I suppose it hardly matters." Xander helped him up.

"Well, if you don't mind getting all touchy-feely again. It might be easier this way." Xander took Wesley's hand.

Wesley didn't know whether to be mortified or grateful. However, it certainly was easier. Xander was surefooted and keen-eyed, making his way through the dank murky sewer with apparently little effort. Wesley trailed along behind him, feeling like a child clutching at a parent. They walked through seemingly endless stretches of tunnel, until finally they climbed some metal rungs to a trapdoor.

They emerged into someone's home. Softly lit and sparsely furnished, the owner had an unusual taste in décor if the pair of axes on the wall was anything to go by. Wesley quickly realized that the place belonged to Angel. Though apparently everyone else felt at home here.

"Come on," said Xander. "The bathroom's through here, you can get cleaned up."

Wesley looked down at himself. He was dripping water and slime. "Oh, dear. I…erm…I don't suppose I could trouble you for something to wear as well?" He glanced hopefully at Angel. "Just while these are drying."

Angel nodded. "Get cleaned up, I'll find you something."

*********

A short while later Wesley found himself seated at a large pine table in a cozy kitchen, clutching a steaming mug of tea. To his left sat Doyle with the girl on his knee, to his right sat Xander, then Spike. Angel sat opposite. Wesley suddenly knew how Alice must have felt. If a white rabbit had come bounding by at that moment he wouldn't even have blinked. At that precise moment a frog appeared from beside Xander's elbow and hopped across the table with a perky chirrup. The girl gave a squeal of delight and picked it up. Wesley's fingers tightened convulsively around his mug.

They were discussing what to do next. Spike was keen to start asking around; he wanted this matter cleared up so they could concentrate on the really important stuff - namely ridding Xander of his little amphibious friend. Angel was more wary. The idea of The Initiative in his City left him simultaneously chilled and incensed. He was going to have to deal with them. He just wasn't sure how. These were humans, essentially misguided rather than evil in their intent. Wolfram & Hart had known the playing field and Angel had removed them from it without concern or guilt. Angel wasn't sure how The Powers viewed the killing of innocent humans. Then again, they had sent the vision.

"All right. Spike, take Xander and ask around. Play it low key. Don't go attracting attention to yourself." Angel eyed his smirking Childe and sighed. "Xander, try and keep him out of trouble." Xander grinned and left for the door. Spike went to follow, but Angel caught his arm and whispered a warning. "I mean it. Don't do anything stupid."

Spike pulled away, glaring. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."

"No you're not," Angel agreed. "But if you get another chip in your head we'll be able to track you with a metal detector." The words were flippant; Angel's tone and expression were not. He was clearly unhappy at the idea of his Childe being at risk again.

Spike shook his head in fond exasperation. "Worse than a fuckin' mother," he muttered. He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Angel's surprised mouth. "Don't wait up," he called out as he left.

Wesley watched the goings-on with wide-eyed astonishment. As Spike kissed Angel, he completely forgot about his mug and almost tipped the remainder of his tea into his lap. Spike and Angel? Wesley was aware that vampires displayed little discretion in their choice of bed-partners - gender, species - neither seemed to matter. In addition, Angel was Spike's Sire, and although the exact nature of that tie remained shrouded in mystery, Wesley was certain that it had to play a part in any intimacies between them. A deep flush stole across Wesley's face as his imagination took him to places he'd really rather not go. Certainly while he was sitting at Angel's table.

Angel watched Spike and Xander leave with a worried expression.

"They'll be fine," said Doyle. "Spike's still smartin' from the last time. It'd hurt his pride too much if he let himself get picked up again, and you know he won't take any chances with Xander."

//He won't? // Wesley found the mere idea of Spike being concerned about Xander rather unsettling.

Angel turned his attention back to Wesley. "I'm sorry to have dragged you into this."

Wesley realized that Angel was genuinely regretful, and managed a 'don't worry about it' shrug. "Yes, well. Perhaps I'll just send you the bill from my tailor."

Angel and Doyle both smiled faintly at the slight quip. "You can't go back to your apartment," Angel continued. "You'll have to stay here."

"For how long?" Wesley asked, not bothering to hide his unhappiness at this new development.

"Until it's safe for you to go back," said Angel matter-of-factly.

Wesley was irritated. His apartment wasn't much of a home but it housed most of his belongings; save for the few valuable items he stored in a security box.

"We've got a spare room," said Angel. "And we'll try to get you some more clothes."

"I'm sure I can manage," said Wesley stiffly. "I do usually shop for myself."

"No offense," said Doyle. "But do you usually go in a bathrobe? Only I don't think your old outfit is gonna be up for any more excursions."

"Oh," said Wesley, deflated. He'd been rather fond of those trousers. He thought they made him look rather debonair.

"We'll sort something," said Angel. "Doyle, can you show Wesley around and make up the couch for Shekaa?"

Doyle frowned. "That depends. What are you gonna be doin'?"

"I'm going to pick up the Zsatrat's Lexicon. And then I thought I'd maybe do a little asking around."

Doyle shook his head. "That's my job. You're not real big with the 'gettin' info from the locals', remember?"

"Someone has to stay here with Wesley and Shekaa, and she's happiest around you. Plus, she's probably hungry and I wouldn't know what to make her."

"You're a better cook than I am," said Doyle, his voice taking on a warning tone.

"Only eggs," said Angel, back tracking toward the door. "And we're out of those. I'll be back in a few hours. Lock up after me." The last was said as he ducked out of the apartment.

What Doyle said next made Wesley glad that Shekaa couldn't understand.

Part Seven

"What do you think's gonna happen to Angel's car?" Xander asked.

"Fuck. I'd forgotten about that." Spike grinned wolfishly. "They'll probably tow it. I guess Peaches'll just have to do without the Angel-mobile for a while."

Xander didn't bother berating his lover for enjoying Angel's misfortune. It would have been a waste of breath any way. "So what's the plan?"

"We'll hit a few bars, try some of the clubs. See if we can't shake something out of somebody."

"Low key, remember," Xander cautioned.

"Yeah, well. So we'll do it without putting the wind up 'em."

"Should we warn them? About The Initiative?." Xander was uncertain where he stood on that. On the one hand, The Initiative had captured and tortured his lover; persecuted a little girl, and he hated them with venom. On the other hand, they were probably making the streets a safer place by rounding up the local demons; of whom a number were almost certainly psychotic killers. Which unfortunately brought him right back to Spike again.

Spike was indifferent to the idea. "They ain't stupid. Well, not all of 'em," he amended. "They'll figure out for themselves soon enough that something's going down. If they haven't already."

"So, we keep quiet then?"

Spike nodded. "Best to for now. They wouldn't listen much to anything you or me said any how."

That was probably true. Xander had noticed that most demons tended to avoid making conversation with Spike, unless he was threatening them, in which case they were usually just begging to be let go. He was a vampire: to them that equated a violent bloodthirsty nutter looking for a fight. They weren't all that far wrong. Xander was largely ignored because he was human; some recognized that he was a Consort, but for many that just meant he was even more mentally questionable than the vampire he was with.

However, they did have some friends amongst demon society - or friendly associates any way - and Xander felt bad for them. He wondered if Spike could be persuaded to have a discreet word with them; tell them to leave town or lie low for a few days. He also wondered if he was being a little optimistic over how long it was going to take to settle this. True, they had taken on The Initiative once before, but they hadn't had to run them out of town then. Xander's gloomy thoughts were interrupted as they arrived at their first destination - a bar called Morrigu's.

They spent the next few hours going from bar to bar - and the occasional club - discreetly questioning the patrons. There was some vague whispers concerning regulars who hadn't been seen recently, that sort of thing. However, nobody offered up anything concrete. Spike quickly tired of trawling the bars when he couldn't stop for a drink. Instead he took Xander somewhere the young man hadn't been before. Xander caught on quickly as to what kind of establishment it was.

"This is a…." Xander forgot what he was saying as a female demon walked past wearing nothing but a lacey thong.

An amused Spike gave his lover a little push to get him moving again. They took a spiral staircase to the next floor, where more scantily glad demons paraded about. There were a few humans; though most of them seemed to be clientele. They walked down a narrow corridor; near the end Spike led Xander past a beaded curtain into a room filled with heavily scented smoke. A corpulent woman smoking a hookah lounged on a pile of blue velvet cushions. She greeted Spike with a nod. She looked human, except the hands holding the hookah were clawed and as she leaned across to hand it to Spike, Xander saw that she had a stripe of brown fur running down her back.

"How's it goin', Puula?" Spike used the hookah briefly and passed it back to her.

"Same old, same old." Her voice sounded like someone who'd been smoking forty a day---for the last hundred years.

"Bit quiet in 'ere tonight innit?"

She shrugged. "We're missin's a few of the regulars. They'll be back. Business will pick up again. Always does."

"Gone somewhere else 'ave they?" said Spike. He shook his head. "Tossers."

Puula smiled. "And you're so loyal? We haven't seen you round here for a while." She eyed Xander speculatively.

"Why go for take-out when I can eat in," said Spike smugly. Xander kicked him.

Puula laughed. "I like this one. He has fire in his belly."

"So where's all your regulars gone then?" Spike pressed.

Puula didn't know and didn't seem particularly concerned. "They'll be back," she repeated confidently as they left.

Spike and Xander weren't so sure. As they walked back down the corridor they were approached by a stunning demon with mocha coloured skin and purple eyes. Her hair was white and long, reaching down past her thighs. "Spiiiike." She drew the name out until it was almost a hiss. "Long time no see, lover." Xander bristled as she wound her arm around Spike's neck, pressing up against him.

Spike removed her arm. "Sorry, luv. I've been taken off the market." He inclined his head toward Xander.

Her full, painted lips formed a pout. Then a quick calculating look passed across her face and she smiled. "For you, two for one."

"Tempting, luv. But see, if you touched him, I'd have to rip your arms off and shove them-" Spike leaned close to whisper the rest.

She swatted him away and stuck out her tongue. It was long and forked; she fluttered the ends in a provocative manner. "A pity, he's cute." Her eyes glittered with amusement as she walked off - discreetly pinching Spike as she passed.

Xander stared after her. Spike flicked his ear. Xander blinked. "I'm cute?" he echoed in a strained voice.

"As a button," said Spike. "Now come on."

Spike's sarcasm drove Xander from thinking about that tongue to less happy thoughts. "So, was she any good?" Xander aimed for vague interest but his jealousy seeped through.

"If you like that sort of thing."

"And you do?" Xander asked with forced casualness. "Like that sort of thing?"

Spike stopped, grinned and pulled Xander round to face him. He drew Xander's hips and groin flush against his own. "I prefer this sort of thing." He kissed Xander deeply, earning them several whistles and few lewd comments. Spike broke the kiss and nuzzled Xander's ear. "Let's go home. There's nothing doin' here."

Xander was inclined to agree and they returned home. Xander didn't miss the way his lover relaxed once they were past the door. Spike had been understandably edgy from the moment The Initiative had been mentioned. Xander had found himself on the end of a tight leash all evening and it was starting to chafe. Spike in over-protective mode was not a subtle creature; he'd stuck to Xander like a remora. You could barely have slipped a piece of paper between them. Normally, Xander was all for that, but this was closeness for all the wrong reasons.

"Hey." He gave Spike's duster a tug. "You gonna get this off and come to bed?"

Spike nodded distractedly and led them through into the bedroom.

Standing beside the bed, Xander peeled his fingers free from Spike's. "I'm gonna go get us something to eat." He sighed when Spike turned to follow him. "I think I'm safe going to the kitchen. If anyone tries to jump me on the way past the counter I'll be sure to call for help."

Spike growled.

Xander poked him in the chest gently. "You know how you're always winding Angel up about the mother-hen routine? Well it's not a good look for you either."

Spike realized what he was doing and shook his head in self-disgust. "If I ever get as bad as that wanker, stake me," he muttered.

Xander just grinned and left Spike to get undressed as he wandered through into the kitchen. He was too tired for anything elaborate, settling for a cheese sandwich and heating up a mug of blood for Spike. Spike was in bed when Xander went back into the bedroom. Xander handed his lover the blood, put down his sandwich, and set about picking Spike's clothes off the floor - dumping them on a chair in the corner.

"Come on, come on," Spike grumbled. "Get your arse in 'ere." He held the blankets open as Xander shrugged out of his shirt and jeans.

Xander climbed into bed finally, snuggling up against his lover, shivering lightly. On cool nights there were definite drawbacks to sleeping with someone who didn't generate body heat. However, he quickly warmed up and polished off his sandwich - listening to Spike muttering about crumbs in the bed. "What are we gonna do?" he asked softly.

Spike was running a finger around the inside of the mug to get the last traces blood. "Find 'em and fix 'em."

Xander had to smile. "Easy as that, huh?"

"Yep." Spike sucked his finger vigorously and then turned to look at Xander "You don't think Peaches is gonna let 'em run around, frightening the locals. Daft sod sees himself as the Dark Crusader, Champion of the City. He'll want 'em out."

"Yeah?" Xander needed the reassurance.

"It's what he's good at," Spike admitted reluctantly. Then he grinned and rolled them until he was laid on top of Xander. "Now shut up, and let me show you what I'm good at."

"And what's that?"

Spike's grin turned wolfish as he shimmied downward. A cold mouth closed around Xander's waking flesh, coaxing it to full hardness. As distractions went, Xander thought, this was more than okay. Spike's tongue was doing wonderful things to the length of his cock; playing with the head, gently probing the slit. "That's…that's good," Xander gasped breathlessly, his hips bucking into tight, wet suction. "I'm….I'm gonna-" He lost the ability to form coherent speech as Spike deep throated him, strong hands gripping his thighs. Xander felt the pressure building from his toes to the top of his head. White heat and stars danced behind his eyelids as warm seed flowed into Spike's mouth.

Spike eagerly drank it down, tongue greedily lapping at Xander's skin to steal the last few droplets. Then he moved back up Xander's body until he was straddling the young man's chest. "Open up, Pet." He tapped Xander's jaw.

Xander obediently opened his mouth and Spike slid in. It was an awkward angle to some extent, but Xander took pleasure in being both passive and powerful: with Spike - vulnerably contained by lips and teeth - controlling the thrusts and clutching at his hair. Spike looked down; eyes dark with passion paling to gold as Xander suckled. Spike murmured encouragement, fingers tightening almost painfully upon Xander's scalp. Xander brought his hands up to caress Spike's thighs and smooth flat belly: tight muscle and skin like silk over water. He trailed one finger between those firm cheeks. When Spike bucked against the touch, Xander moved his finger away, holding it up to Spike who leaned forward and took it into his mouth.

Xander placed the now wet and slippery digit back against Spike's opening, pushing hard to breech the tight ring of muscle. Spike gave a little shudder and growled his approval as Xander slid inside. Xander timed his finger's thrusts with the action of his mouth and throat, and was rewarded with a flood of icy seed. Sated, they sank back onto the bed, bodies curling up together as they prepared to sleep.

Spike placed a soft kiss against Xander's throat. "It'll be all right, Pet. Me and the pouff'll sort it."

Xander tightened his hold on his lover and closed his eyes.

"Chirrup."

"What the fuck?"

"It's not my fault!"

"Bleedin' hell."

Part Eight

After the first colourful outburst, Doyle contained his temper sufficiently for him to prepare supper and make up a bed for Shekaa on the couch. Wesley assured the girl they were doing all they could to find her family, and they both sat with her until she fell asleep - clutching at a tasseled cushion for comfort. Then Doyle showed Wesley to the spare room; which had been converted from a storage area during Spike and Xander's stay. It contained a Queen sized bed and a chest of drawers.

"Sorry it's not much," said Doyle.

"It's more than adequate. Thank you."

"Are you always this polite?" Doyle asked, amused despite his mood.

Wesley appeared surprised by the question. "I…I've never really thought about it. I suppose, yes. My…ah…Father was a stickler for good manners."

"Yeah well, no offense, but he did a real number on you."

Wesley was subdued as he replied quietly: "Yes, yes he did.

Doyle noted the change but didn't comment on it. "Best get some sleep, yeah. We'll head out in the morning and pay a call on that bookstore guy." He left Wesley to get some rest and wandered back through into the kitchen. He took out a bottle from under the sink and poured himself a double; after a moment's hesitation, he made it a triple. "Slainte." He toasted the silence bitterly.

Despite an almost overwhelming urge to get falling-down drunk, Doyle contented himself with the one drink, nursing it frugally as the long hours ticked by. As dawn approached he heard the sound of someone descending the stairs and felt his lover's presence.

Angel entered the kitchen, his expression contrite. "I screwed up again, huh?"

Doyle drained the last drops of amber liquid with fierce pleasure, his temper back to boiling point. "Screwed up?" He rolled the words around his tongue, as though testing their worthiness. "Yeah, I guess that about covers it."

"I'm sor-"

"-Don't," Doyle snapped, brushing off the hand that reached for him. "Just, don't. Okay."

Tensions over spilled into defensive temper. "What do you want me to say? That I'm being over-protective? Yes, all right. You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little uptight about the idea of my lover stretched out on a table while some sicko scientist hacks into him!"

Doyle regarded Angel in impassive silence, nodding slowly. "I get that." He exhaled tersely. "Boy, do I ever get that. I'm the guy who's been sitting here for the past four hours wonderin' what the fuck was goin' down with you. Do you think you've got a solo deal on this? You think I don't worry over you?"

Anger faded, guilt and sorrow taking its place. "I am sorry."

"Shit, you vampires are a fuckin' self-absorbed bunch," said Doyle harshly.

Angel flinched and Doyle sighed heavily. "Oh, fuck, man. I didn't mean to start with that petty crap. It's just we've gotta sort this or it's gonna screw us up. An' don't be givin' me that look. You know I'm in this for the long haul. Permanent fixture here, okay. But you've gotta let me breathe." Doyle smiled. "Some of us have to y'know."

"I'm trying," said Angel desperately.

"I know," said Doyle. "An' I'm trying to help you get a handle on this, but fuck, sometimes you're a shitty student."

Angel's mouth twitched involuntarily.

"What?" Doyle asked, half annoyed.

Angel was instantly repentant. "Sorry. Only my old teacher used to say something similar."

"He said you were a shitty student?" Doyle asked with marked disbelief.

"I think it was more along the lines of-" Angel adopted a nasal Irish accent. "You, Master Liam, are an idiot, who will never amount to anything."

"Hmph," said Doyle dismissively. "Shows what that fucker knew." He tugged Angel toward him. "You're a good man." At Angel's look he clarified the statement. "Okay, vampire. Whatever. The fact is, I know you're lookin' out for me because that's what you do. Protectin' the helpless an' all that. The thing is, I ain't exactly helpless. I know I'm not exactly in your league with the combat stuff, but I was roamin' these streets before I met you. I can take care of meself."

"I know, I just-"

"-Worry. Yeah. You an' me both, man." Doyle smiled, the dimple in his cheek showing. "Come on, let's go to bed." He was too tired and worried to stay angry. Besides, this was a work in progress. It was still up to him to prove that this was a permanent good thing, while Angel kept on waiting for that other shoe to drop. He grabbed a handful of sweater, pulling Angel down for a deep, lingering kiss. When he let go Angel looked stunned but pleased. Doyle grinned cheekily, dimple deepening. "Big, dumb an' happy. Just the way I like 'em." He let go of Angel's sweater and wandered through into the bedroom.

Still absorbing the kiss, Angel stood motionless for a second. Then he gave an indignant- "Hey"-and raced after his lover.

**********

Wesley closed his bedroom door very carefully and returned to his bed. He'd been disturbed by the sound of voices and had been about to go out when he realized that it was a private conversation. He'd witnessed the kiss. Angel and Doyle? What was going on? He thought that Angel and Spike were-? Coldness swept over him. The curse. He glanced thoughtfully at the door. Should barricade it? What about Shekaa - she would be out there alone. After much thought, Wesley decided that as Angel showed no signs of having lost his soul yet, he was probably safe for the evening.

Wesley spent the time before sleep took him, phrasing possible questions in his head. This was the last possible subject he'd wish to broach with any one. Personal lives were not something he felt comfortable delving into. However, he was also aware of the tragic series of events that had occurred when Angel last lost his soul. Doyle had to be warned, and he was the only one who could do it.

Part Nine

Doyle glanced at the bedside clock and groaned: barely three hours sleep did not a happy half-demon make. He shrugged on his robe and stumbled through into the kitchen yawning. As he busied himself making breakfast he heard the door to Wesley's room. "You want tea or coffee?" he called out.

Wesley appeared, wearing his borrowed robe. "Ahm, tea would be wonderful. Thank you."

"Take a seat. It'll just be a minute."

Wesley sat down at the table, hands clasped in front of him. "I…um…I wanted to ask - That is, I was wondering-"

Doyle dropped the teabags into the teapot. He glanced across at Wesley when the other man fell quiet. "You wanted to ask what?"

"This is really terribly awkward. How can I put this?"

"Comin' straight out with it usually works," Doyle suggested.

Wesley drew in a breath, apparently steeling himself for what he was about to say. He looked Doyle in the eye. "I hope you'll forgive my intrusiveness, but I need to ask this - are you involved with Angel?" There was a pregnant pause as he glanced away, removing his glasses. He wiped the lenses on the sleeve of his robe before replacing them. "That is, are you…ah…intimate with him?"

Ah. Doyle tried not to smile as he poured the tea and joined Wesley at the table. "You mean are him an' me doin' the horizontal tango?"

Wesley flushed. "Well, I wouldn't have chosen to put it exactly that way - but yes."

Doyle nodded. "Then that would be a yeah, I am."

Wesley looked aghast. "You are?" It was clear he'd been hoping for another answer. "May I ask how long this has been going on?"

"A few months."

"Months?" Wesley's expression of horrified dismay was almost comical. "Do you…That is - are you aware of Angel's personal history?"

Doyle took a sip of tea as he reminded himself that Wesley was just trying to look out for him. It was nice thing to do really, considering the guy didn't know him from Adam. "If you're askin' do I know he was once Angelus, 'Scourge of Europe' an' all round murderous bastard? Then yeah, I know that. Or are you askin' if I know that he once had a thing for a pretty little Slayer? Cos, yeah. I know that too. An' if you're askin, do I know they got frisky, an' things got pretty grim for a while, what with the death, an' the mayhem, an' the torture. Then yeah, I know that too."

"I see," said Wesley primly. "And are you aware why those events occurred?"

Doyle sipped his tea silently for a moment; then nodded. "Yeah. Angel's cursed."

"You know about the curse?" Wesley asked. "You know the details?".

"Perfect happiness, yadda yadda. If Angel gets it, he loses his soul." Doyle glanced toward the bedroom. Bastard. Angel was going to owe him for this.

Wesley sounded despairing. "Good God. Do you have any idea of the danger you're in? Not just you - your family, your friends, your co-workers."

"My co-workers?" Doyle smothered a laugh. "Er, mebbe it slipped by you, but one of my co-workers is a soulless vampire."

"That's beside the point-"

Doyle put down his tea and fixed Wesley with a hard look. "The point is - this is really none of your business. Let's you an' me get a few things straight here. Yeah, Angel's cursed. But he's not gonna lose his soul." Wesley tried to interrupt but Doyle cut him off again. "The happiness clause isn't a problem. It's been rendered null and void. And yeah, that part's been tried an' tested. We used the curse to fix his soul permanently. Angelus isn't gonna make a comeback. That's all you need to know."

"Yes, well. It's all fine and good saying that. But curses are notoriously temperamental. You've taken an incredible risk tampering with it."

"You're sayin' it was dumb an' selfish to mess with it?" said Doyle flatly. "Yeah, I guess it was. Love can be like that." His eyes glittered with a feral light. "But I'd throw myself at the Gates of Hell for him, an' I'm pretty sure he'd do the same for me."

"I would."

Doyle had been too preoccupied with the conversation to detect his lover's approach. "Jeez! Make some noise. Havin' to kick-start my heart here, Angel man."

Angel went to the fridge and took out a jug. Wesley blanched as Angel set a mug down on the table and very deliberately poured the jug's contents out in front of him. Wesley sat up ramrod-straight. "Am I correct in assuming you heard what was said?"

"Some of it."

"And you disagree with my assessment?"

"That tampering with my curse was dangerous?" Angel took a mouthful of blood and looked at Doyle. "Maybe it was. Would it have been any safer for us to carry on as things were; hoping that I'd always be strong enough to resist?"

The colour returned to Wesley's cheeks as he considered what - or rather who - Angel would have been resisting. "You were able to before," he pointed out. "You left Buffy because you accepted that it was the right thing to do."

"This is different."

"He can't leave," Doyle explained. "We hafta work together. The Powers have picked him as their Champion, an' I'm the guy deliverin' their messages."

Wesley looked thoughtful. "Do you think it's possible that these 'Powers' purposely brought the two of you together?"

"Anything's possible with them," said Doyle. He just didn't like to think about it. Bad enough they used him as a one-way transmitter; the thought of them fixin' up his love life was just whacked.

Wesley pounced on the other point that had evidently been troubling him. "What about Xander and Spike? Where do they fit into all of this?"

Doyle couldn't think of anything safe to say. He was grateful when Angel stepped in.

"You'll have to speak to them about that." Angel downed the rest of the blood, leaving a dark red smear across his lips. "But if I were you, I'd be careful how you go about quizzing Spike." Angel licked the last traces of blood away with his tongue.

"Y-yes, of course."

Doyle took pity on him. "Listen, tell Angel what you want for breakfast. I'll try and find you something to wear, okay?"

"Thank you," said Wesley absently; he seemed somewhat distracted by the sight of the former 'Scourge of Europe' making toast.

Part Ten

By the time Spike and Xander arrived, Wesley was dressed - albeit in an outfit that was obviously too large for him. Angel was watching Doyle and Shekaa as they hopped toast fingers down the table; leaving a trail of buttery smears.

"Hey, guys, how's it going?" asked Xander, helping himself to toast.

"We're gonna pay a visit to that Ed fella, at the bookstore. You game?" Doyle asked. "Since I'm guessin' you two didn't come up with anything last night?"

Spike shook his head. "Just a few places sufferin' a shortfall in regulars."

"Missing demons?"

"Looks that way," Xander mumbled around a mouthful of toast. "No one seems worried though."

"This is a big City, fellas," Doyle reminded them. "Demons; people - go missin' all the time. If there's no one to care." He shrugged. "No one really notices."

"When you head out, keep to the main streets," Angel cautioned. "I doubt The Initiative will try anything in the open." He turned to at his Childe. "Spike, you're with me."

"You're not stayin' here?" Doyle asked. "What about Shekaa. She can't stay on her own. And she's gonna attract attention if she comes with us."

"Cordelia can watch her."

"Cordelia?" Wesley echoed faintly. No one paid him any mind.

"Where are you goin' now that you couldn't visit last night?"

"There's a place I want to check out, but I need Spike with me."

"Vampire joint, right?" Doyle guessed. He looked unhappy with the idea. "You're not too popular with those places, you know."

"We won't have any trouble," Angel assured him.

"Then why do you need Spike?"

"No real reason," Angel hedged. "I just thought two might generate more answers than one."

"Give 'em Angelus and William the Bloody and the tossers'll be only to happy to talk," Spike boasted.

"-And you can watch each other's back," Doyle guessed. He looked at Spike. "Just make sure you do." Spike didn't bother answering.

"Hello?" A voice called out. "Where is everybody?" There was the clip, clip of heels on the stairs and Cordelia appeared. She saw everyone gathered around the table and looked accusingly at Doyle. "You had another vision? Why didn't you call me?"
"Er, because the last time I called in the middle of the night you used a very colourful turn of phrase to describe what was going to happen to me if I didn't hang up."
Cordelia waved Doyle off. "Pfft. I was joking. I work here. I should be included."

Doyle tried to mollify her. "It was kind of short notice. I didn't even have a chance to call Angel."

"You went alone?" Cordelia smirked. "Boy, I bet that went over well."

"Yeah, well," said Doyle. "It's been settled."

"So what-" Cordelia stopped, finally noticing the little girl who was trying to hide beneath the table. She smiled brightly. "Er, Hi."

"Cordy, this is Shekaa. Wesley, can you tell Shekaa this is another friend."

"Wesley?" Cordelia suddenly realised the room had another extra occupant. "Oh, my God, Wesley. What are you doing here?"

"I'm not altogether sure," Wesley admitted. Then something occurred to him. "You're working here?"

"Only until my inevitable stardom takes hold."

Wesley looked confused.

"She's trying to be an actress," said Xander.

"Hel-lo. I am an actress," said Cordelia indignantly. "I'm just temporarily between roles right now." Spike snorted. Cordelia glared at him.

Doyle was trying to reassure Shekaa. "Wesley?"

"Oh, yes. Shekaa, Buse ir Cordelia. Toal e sinkaa." (Shekaa, this is Cordelia. She's a friend.)

"Cordella," said the girl. "Toa fuuta sveel."

Wesley smiled and glanced at Cordelia.

"What?" Cordelia asked.

"She thinks that you smell nice."

"Oh," said Cordelia. She beamed at the girl. "Isn't that sweet."

"I'm glad you're getting along," said Angel. "Because I need you to do something for me."

Cordelia looked at him suspiciously, and then back at the girl. "Oh, no. I'm not good with children. I've never had any experience with them. And-and she doesn't even speak English."

"That's because she's Quix," said Xander.

"Quicks?" Cordelia repeated. "What's a Quicks?"

"Quix," Wesley corrected. "Shekaa is a Quix demon."

"A demon," Cornelia's voice rose. "There was nothing about babysitting demons in my job description."

"You've never had a job description," said Angel. "But you do get a paycheck."

"And today you even get to earn it," said Xander, grinning. He was enjoying his ex-girlfriend's discomfort.

"No!" Cordelia objected. "I can't. I'm…I'm not qualified.

"It's only for a few hours," said Angel, attempting to pacify her. "Then we'll be back. And you don't have to stay here. You can take her over to your place. Doyle will drop you off."

"Er, there's a slight problem with that," said Doyle. "No car. Remember?"

"What happened to the car?" Cordelia asked. "You didn't wreck it?"

Angel looked pained.

"It's probably been impounded. It'll be hard gettin' it back without the paperwork." Spike was enjoying himself enormously.

"You don't have the documents?" Xander asked.

I acquired it from a Simpaz demon. I don't have a driver's license," Angel admitted.

"I guess it would be a little hard to explain why you needed to take your test in the dark," said Cordelia.

"It's not important," said Angel, trying to change the subject. "Stay here. You can take her up into the office and teach her how to use the computer."

"Should be a short lesson," Xander mumbled. Spike laughed.

"How am I supposed to look after her?" Cordelia was still protesting. "I don't speak Quix. Unless she speaks some English?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Wesley. "But I could probably teach you a few words of Quix; enough to get by at least. That is - if we have time?" He looked at Angel, who nodded.

"Oh, goody," said Cordelia. "This is exactly how I wanted to spend my morning." She turned on her heel and walked back to the stairwell. "Come on. Let's get this over with." Wesley hurried after her.

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