Fallen Angel--Chapters Three and Four
Apr. 3rd, 2006 04:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaTitle: Fallen Angel (Chapter 3)
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17
Setting: Part way through season 3, alternate universe type of thing (wherein I would take a different road than Joss...because last I checked, I wasn't Joss....)
Disclaimer: If wishes came true, Angel and Wesley would live in my closet, and I would play with them mightily...but alas...they do not
Feedback: gladly accepted...greatly appreciated
Story Summary: Angel's slide into darkness takes a nasty turn, even as Wesley discovers its cause, and Angel disappears after torturing Wesley. A year later, Angel is back, and this time Wesley is a changed man. Wesley goes out hunting, aiming to finally fulfill the destiny his father demanded of him, only what he finds is neither the vampire he befriended, nor his evil alter ego, but a broken hero, his mind torn apart by torture far worse than anything he ever dished out.
*cross posted to AO3*
Click Here for Chapters 1 & 2
Fallen Angel – Chapter Three
Wesley woke to the sound of knocking on the front door. A quick glance at the bed showed Angel still sleeping. Wesley pulled himself up, stiff muscles protesting and shuffled to the living room, carefully pulling the bedroom door closed behind him. The shadows hanging in the apartment told him that it was late afternoon as he crossed to the door.
The delivery boy was familiar, though Wesley couldn’t place his name as he fumbled for his wallet and nodded his thanks while the boy settled the box and two bags inside the door. Stifling a yawn, Wesley herded the groceries toward the kitchen and spent the next few minutes putting them away.
His nap hadn’t done him a lot of good and he found himself stretching to straighten out his back as he lifted the canister of baby formula out of the box. The sight of it made him smile, and realize how much he missed having the little guy around. He had asked Fred to watch him while he had gone out to take care of Angel.
Wesley sighed and finished his task. No matter how much he wanted Conner home, he knew it wouldn’t do to have him there with Angel…not yet anyway. Not that Fred would mind, she loved the baby as much as any of them did, no matter his parentage or the circumstances that had brought him to their lives.
As far as the world was concerned, Wesley was Conner’s father, and a few favors called in had given him a legitimate birth certificate, or one that would pass the most stringent forgery tests anyway. Cordelia and Fred acted as surrogate mothers, taking turns keeping him when Wesley simply could not.
Wesley started a pot of coffee for what promised to be a long night, and arranged his gathered books on the kitchen table. He wasn’t really sure where to begin, so picked up a book from the pile of ones Anna had brought him. It was an old Watcher’s text, indexing arcane languages used in ancient spells. He flipped through it, hoping to find something that resembled the marks he had seen on Angel, but his view had been brief and his lack of familiarity with the markings made them difficult to remember.
The next was a mythology that he didn’t even remember owning. He didn’t often question Anna’s intuition, but wondered what this book could have to do with the other. Written in a language akin to several Middle Eastern dialects it wasn’t difficult to get a general gist of the story. Wesley skimmed through the pages, committing as much to memory as he could in the swift reading, in case it became necessary.
Several hour later, still deeply involved in the mythology that Anna had slipped in with his books, Wesley heard movement in the bedroom. He set the book aside and pulled a container of blood from the refrigerator, carefully pouring it into a coffee mug to warm in the microwave.
When it was done, he went softly to the bedroom door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Hollow, sunken eyes stared back at him from the corner of the room where Angel crouched. Wesley crossed the room on bare feet and crouched in front of Angel.
“Are you feeling better, Angel?” he asked quietly, cradling the mug of blood between them. “I’ve brought you something.” He tried to hold it out to him, but Angel shut his eyes and shook his head.
“No.”
“You must feed, Angel.” Wesley held the cup between them for a moment, one hand reaching out for Angel’s. “You’ll never get better if you—“
“No!” Angel’s hand flung out and knocked the mug from Wesley’s hand. It crashed against the wall, shattering. Wesley cussed and pulled his hand away.
“Really, Angel.” He started picking up the pieces, grimacing at the bright red splash across his wall. “That wasn’t necessary.” He heard the sobbing start and turned to see Angel’s body slumping to one side as he buried his head in his hands. His distraction allowed one of the pieces in his hand to slip, slicing neatly through the meaty part of his palm as it fell back to the floor. Again, Wesley cussed and instinctively brought the cut to his mouth. He let the gathered pieces fall back to the floor and moved back to sit on the bed, nursing his wounded hand.
It wasn’t until he felt Angel’s hands that he’d realized the vampire had moved from the corner. “Hurt.” Angel said, his hands touching Wesley’s.
“Yes, a bit.” Wesley answered, watching breathlessly as Angel leaned closer and opened his mouth. He wanted to say something, move, but he couldn’t as Angel’s tongue slipped out over the wound. Then Angel’s mouth was closing over it. The sensation of those lips sucking gently at the open flesh made Wesley’s head swim. There was no biting, Angel’s face remained that of a mortal man, but the pulling was touching something much deeper in Wesley.
Angel’s body was between Wesley’s legs, his shoulder putting a light pressure in his crotch as he bent over Wesley’s leg to lick and suck at his hand. Wesley was afraid to move, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid of losing the pleasant intimacy of those touches, or because he was afraid of frightening Angel.
Wesley’s eyes closed as Angel shifted, his arm moving against Wesley’s growing cock as the natural flow of blood began curbing and he had to work harder to keep it flowing into him. The warmth growing through Wesley began as a fire in his groin that he was having a hard time keeping under control and brought a flush to his face.
No, this was wrong. On so many levels. As gently as possible, Wesley maneuvered his hand away from Angel, and pulled his body back a little further on the bed. Angel sat still, his eyes focused on the carpet. Wesley cleared his throat and willed his body into submission. It occurred to him that he might get Angel to feed now. It only took a moment to leave the room and return with another cup, less full this time. He knelt beside Angel and held the cup up to his lips.
The vampire seemed empty as Wesley set the cup to his lips and poured a swallow of the warm red liquid into his mouth. There was a long hesitation before he swallowed, but he did swallow. Wesley got two more into him before he decided he wouldn’t push his luck.
“There now, that wasn’t so bad,” he whispered, wiping the corner’s of Angel’s mouth with his t-shirt. “How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
Wesley hadn’t expected an answer, but nodded none the less. “Let’s get you back up into the bed then, shall we?”
The next two days were filled with much the same, Wesley would read and research while Angel slept. Angel slept until the nightmares chased him out of the bed and into the dark corners of the bedroom or into the closet. Each time he woke, Wesley tried to convince him to feed. Sometimes he managed to get a swallow or two into him and keep it there, but more often than not Angel would refuse, sometimes violently.
Wesley’s piles of books grew, and stacks of them covered the living room table, the kitchen table and several spots on the floor. His notebook was filled with words Angel called out in his dreams, or spoke when awake. A half eaten plate of food sat off to the side of him, several open books spread in front of him, and in his lap was his personal journal, open to the pages from just before Angel had left.
Wesley sat staring at the entire mess without really seeing any of it. He wasn’t making any progress. In fact he hadn’t felt like this much of a failure since that night. He’d gone to the hotel, looking for Angel, to explain what he thought had happened. Angel wasn’t there, in fact nobody was, just a message from Cordelia telling him that Angel wanted him to come to that warehouse.
He’d known it was a trap, but he had gone anyway. He couldn’t have refused. There was a chance the spell would wear off on its own, but Wesley had crafted a counter spell. He only had to get close enough to use it. There had been no moon that night, and Angel was waiting for him in that dark. The scuffle had been brief, but bloody, and Wesley had managed to hold his own, at least until Angel had played his trump card, the barely conscious form of Cordelia.
Wesley had lost his footing then, as Angel held Cordy, bent as if he would feed from her. He had fallen, his ankle sprained, and Angel had gained the upper hand.
Wesley fought weakly as Angel wrapped chains around his body, securing him to a pillar. Angel laughed. “Are you going to help me now, Wes?”
“Cause as I recall, this is the part that I’m good at.” Angel paced around him,
“Angel, this isn’t you. There was a spell—“
“Isn’t there always?” Angel was in front of him now, Wesley’s own knife in his hand. It wasn’t large, but deadly sharp. He toyed with it, watching the flecks of light as he turned it in his hand. “Maybe this really is me Wes. Maybe I like me this way.”
Wesley shook his head and swallowed. “No, I know better. I know you.”
“Do you know?” There was the vaguest suggestion of an Irish brogue in the words and Wesley blanched as Angel raised the knife. “Then you know how good I am at this part.”
The movement was slow, deliberate, a small, shallow cut along Wesley’s jaw line. Blood welled at it and Angel leaned closer still and slowly licked the wound. “Mmmm, you taste good Wes.”
He made a matching wound on the other side of his face, licking it as well. Wesley caught his breath, suddenly flush with the arousal Angel’s nearness had always caused in the early days of their friendship. He tried to will it away, but there was no denying the ache he had suppressed for years.
Angel chuckled and moved away, offering Wesley a small respite to gather himself. “Angel, this is the council’s doing—“
“Maybe, Wes. But maybe I don’t care.”
“You are not yourself. Let me help you.”
Angel turned swiftly, his hand swinging out to connect with Wesley’s face. The blow stung and Wesley’s head snapped to the side with the force. “Help me what, Wes? Torture you? I think I can do that without your help.” He moved in close and raised the blade again, slowly licking Wesley’s blood from it. He watched Wesley squirm against the chains as he pressed in closer, moving his leg between Wesley’s so that their thighs touched. “Or maybe you have other ideas?” His empty hand darted down to cup Wesley’s crotch and his already semi-hard cock.
Wesley moaned and Angel laughed. “I always knew you liked me Wes.” Angel whispered in his ear. Wesley turned his head away, but Angel’s hand was rubbing up and down his cock now and he was finding it hard to concentrate. Angel licked at the wound on his left jaw. “So good. Can I taste some more?”
Angel’s lips captured Wesley’s in a kiss that turned to something else as his teeth grazed them. bringing beads of blood to the surface for Angel to suck at. Wesley sagged against his bounds, unable to deny his body’s reaction as Angel drank from him and rubbed his crotch.
Then Angel was gone, that touch, those lips…Wesley opened eyes he didn’t remember shutting and looked around. He never saw the fist that connected with his face, sending him reeling into the darkness.
When he woke, Angel was shoving a heated piece of rebar into Wesley’s leg. “Thought that might wake you.” Angel said, laughing. “You keep dozing off on me Wes. I thought you liked me.” Wesley couldn’t keep from yelling as the metal tore through his leg. Pain exploded around it, and for a moment that was all he could concentrate on. Then it was overwhelmed by the pain in his shoulder. Wesley turned his head as Angel leaned into the metal spike he was pushing into Wesley.
“Angel.” Wesley gasped it, his eyes rising to meet the dark ones of his tormentor. For the briefest of moments, Wesley thought he saw doubt, fear, in those eyes, then Angel was turning away, pacing over to where Cordelia had been slumped. She was gone and Angel laughed again.
“Where’d you go, Cordy? We’re just getting started.”
Wesley watched Angel move into the shadows cast by the moon and the scattered equipment, and tried not to move himself as he felt Cordelia’s hands on his.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Angel called.
Wesley couldn’t see him anymore. “Hurry,” he mouthed to Cordelia as she tried to move the chains that bound him. He felt them give, just as Angel came back into view. With his unwounded hand, Wesley pushed Cordelia toward the door. “Go!” He didn’t get a chance to see if she had, as Angel crashed into him and they toppled to the floor.
Wesley screamed in pain as the rebar sticking through his leg connected first with the floor, then with Angel’s leg. Angel’s hands were pressing into his leg around the wound and Wesley’s vision started to swim. His last sight was of Angel’s face, losing the vampire ridges, softening, then a bright flash of light and everything went black.
He’d woken in the hospital, with Cordelia and Gunn sitting watch. Wesley shook his head and set aside the journal. The apartment was quiet and dark. He realized he didn’t know what time it was, or even what day. He ran a hand through his hair and over the rough stubble on his face.
He needed sleep, and a shower. He needed to find out what his father wanted, what the council wanted. It was clear they hadn’t known about Angel. Stuck in a moment of indecision, Wesley jumped when the phone rang. He smiled at himself and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”
“Just making sure you’re still among the living. Anna hadn’t heard from you. Cordy hadn’t heard from you. Fred says Conner hasn’t seen you since—“”
“I’m fine Charles.”
“And the vampire?”
Wesley sighed wearily. “He’s—sleeping.”
“Any closer to figuring out what’s going on?”
“Not really, I’m afraid. I have some clues, mostly things he’s said, but they aren’t leading anywhere. Someone has really done a number on Angel’s head.”
“Don’t think I want to know what could do that to him.”
“Hmm…yes, well. I at least want to find a way to undo it.”
“What if you can’t?”
Wesley wasn’t ready yet to consider that possibility. If Wesley couldn’t help Angel out of the darkness, Wesley would have to stake him. There was no way he could leave him like this to slowly wither away. Wesley swallowed and changed the subject. “I wonder if you might do me a favor?”
“Depends on whether or not it involves hurting bad guys.”
Wesley smiled. “Not right away, Charles, but soon. Right now I need you to check with Anna for the address to the hotel where my father is staying. He has an offer from the Council, and I want you to go tell him you’re there to hear it. No mention of Angel though, or the fact that he’s back, no matter what he says. Just hear him out and come to me.”
“You want me to go talk to your father.”
“Yes Charles. I’m sending him a message.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Yes, it is.”
“All right. Anything else?”
Wesley hesitated. “How is Conner?”
“Fred says he wants you.”
“I’ll try to stop in to see him tomorrow. I just can’t leave Angel alone again.”
They were quiet for a minute, then Wesley asked, “And, Cordelia? How is she?”
“She’s dealing. Not well, but dealing.”
“Good, we may need her before this whole thing is over.”
“I’ll do the Daddy thing in the morning, and come by your place after.” Gunn said and Wesley nodded, despite the fact that Gunn couldn’t see him.
“I’ll be here.”
Just as Wesley put the phone down, he heard Angel screaming from the bedroom. He pulled open the door to find the Vampire in his usual corner, his t-shirt ripped off, his hands scratching at the skin on his chest and arms. “No! Not-Won’t!”
Wesley crossed the room quickly and grabbed Angel’s hands. “Shh…Angel, Shh…There’s no need to hurt yourself.” Angel’s back was against the wall, his face paler than it had ever been. Long lines of blood marked where his nails had raked the skin, staining the marks raised there and making them stand out even more. Wesley was torn between trying to read them and trying to calm Angel. Eventually, Angel’s struggle won him over, needing all of his strength and concentration to keep him still.
With their bodies so close together, Wesley felt that familiar rush come over him. He whispered to Angel, though he had no idea what he was saying, just noises to bring Angle into the room with him, into himself. He pressed his body against Angel’s, against the wall, moving his hands out to the side so they would stop their scratching. Angel was still mouthing a string of negatives, and Wesley found himself watching Angel’s mouth, until suddenly he was kissing him.
Angel’s words stopped as Wesley’s lips closed over his. Wesley’s eyes closed as he felt the vampire relax. Slowly, Wesley released his grip on Angel’s wrists and they fell to his side. Then he moved back until only his lips were touching Angel. Wesley’s body was rocking with desire, his cock hard in his jeans. It was wrong, and he knew it, but Angel had calmed.
He ended the kiss and pulled back, opening his eyes to watch as Angel slowly slid to the floor. He was calmer than he had been, though his hands still moved over the marks on his chest. Wesley sat beside him on the floor, trying to draw him out. Angel moved so that he was leaning on Wesley, his head on Wesley’s shoulder.
“There now, Angel. It will be all right,” he said softly, his hand moving to stroke Angel’s cheek. The Band-Aid that had covered his sliced palm had gotten lost, and the cut felt odd as it brushed against Angel’s chin. Angel’s lips brushed his palm on his next pass, then his hands closed over Wesley’s holding his wrist against his mouth. At first it was just kisses. Then Wesley felt the touch of the teeth, the dizzying pull as Angel drank. It lasted only a moment, then Angel released him, but Wesley felt it in the core of his being.
They sat a few moments in silence, then Angel’s head lifted. He looked at Wesley almost as if seeing him for the first time. “Wesley.”
Wesley nodded. “Yes, Angel. I’m here.”
Angel nodded, mirroring Wesley. “Where?”
Wesley’s fatigue pulled at him and he had to stifle a yawn. “My apartment.”
Angel shook his head now, then licked his lips. “I taste you.”
Wesley smiled, looking down at the wound in his wrist. “Hmm…yes. How do you feel?”
Angel was done talking though, laying himself down so that his head was on Wesley’s lap. Wesley let him lift his wrist back to his mouth, taking a little more before the vampire was asleep. Wesley wasn’t far behind, leaning back against the wall, and cradling Angel’s head on his thigh.
Chapter Four
Wesley closed the bedroom door and stumbled to answer the ringing of the doorbell before Angel was wakened by it. His bathrobe mostly covered the bandage on his wrist. He felt scruffy and tried to remember when he had last shaved as he opened the door and motioned Gunn inside. The morning was bright and already warm.
“I brought breakfast.” Gunn said, waving a bag from the donut shop on the corner.
“Donuts are not breakfast.” Wesley countered, though he took the bag. “Sit down, I’ll make coffee.”
“Sleeping in?” Gunn moved some books and sat on the couch, gesturing at the robe when Wesley looked confused.
Wesley weighed his answer carefully. “Long night,” he finally said, as he poured water into the coffee maker.
“Angel?”
Wesley nodded, feeling the tightness in his neck and shoulders. “He sleeps for a few hours, then nightmares shake him. He’s having difficulty feeding, and when he does he regurgitates it almost immediately. It’s rather like taking care of an addict in rehabilitation.”
“Well, you look like shit.”
Wesley smiled. “Thank you Charles.”
Wesley busied himself with putting the donuts onto a plate and selecting mugs from the cupboard to fill with coffee. He could hear Angel moving around, but couldn’t tell if it was because he was awake, or if it was due to some nightmare. As the coffee finished he poured two cups, then moved into the living room.
“So, what did my father have to say?” Wesley set the coffee down on the small patch of clean table, then balanced the plate of donuts atop a stack of books before selecting a small plain frycake and sinking into his recliner.
“That dude is more uptight than you, and I didn’t think that was possible.” Gunn snatched a chocolate frosted and sat back. “Don’t think he liked me much.”
Wesley smiled again. “That was why I sent you. It would keep him off balance. That and I knew he wouldn’t bully you.”
Gunn nodded around his donut. “Damn straight. When I told him who I was and why I was there he got this look on his face, like he was gonna pop a gasket.” Gunn sat up ramrod straight and adopted a very bad British accent. “I came here to speak with my son, not some ruffian he sends along in his place. He very well should be here himself.” Gunn slouched down again. “So I told him I was all he was getting, cause the boss man was busy taking care of business, working on a big situation.”
Wesley nodded and sipped at his coffee. It wasn’t strong enough to pull the fatigue out of his bones. “Very good. What did the council want?”
“Alliance. Seems they got some word on some big-bad thing headed this way. They’re willing to share the info if we do some stuff for them.”
“Did he say what they wanted us to do for them?”
Gunn shook his head. “Nope, but it doesn’t sound like a good idea, you know? One uptight English guy’s all I need in my life.”
Wesley was too deep in thought to recognize or rise to the barb. “Did he give you any indication what it is they say is coming?”
“No, just something big. He seemed to think we couldn’t handle it on our own. I told him we’d done all right so far. Told him to sit tight and one of us would be round to give him an answer.”
“Good. Very good. My father is not a patient man, and we have time.” He was about to say something more when the sound of his name from the bedroom interrupted. Wesley jumped and waved Gunn down. “Stay here. He isn’t ready.”
Wesley opened the door and took a moment to let his eyes adjust. Angel was huddled in his corner, shaking. Wesley went to him, but stopped as Angel’s eyes met his. For the first time he saw a hint of the old Angel in them. “Wesley.”
“Yes, Angel.” Wesley knelt in front of him and made no move to reach out to him.
“Is-is this…real?”
Wesley nodded slowly. “Yes, Angel. Very real indeed.”
“You-you’re not—I didn’t—“ Angel trailed off and closed his eyes. He seemed to swallow with difficulty. “I thought I killed you.”
“No, Angel. I’m quite fine.”
“Where—how—no—“ Angel shook his head, pressing his hands to his temple. “I can see it. I killed you…and Buffy…and Cordy…and…”
Wesley took Angel’s hands and pulled them away from his face. “We are all quite fine, I assure you.” Wesley rubbed strong thumbs along the backs of Angel’s hands, trying to help bring him back to the immediate moment.
“I hurt you.” Angel said after a long time, his eyes falling on the bandages at Wesley’s wrist.
“No, not at all.” Wesley pulled his hands away.
“Before.” Angel said, his eyes looking for Wesley’s again. “Before.”
It took Wesley a moment to understand. “What? Oh, yes. That. Yes, you did. But you weren’t yourself. Do you think you’re ready to try standing up?”
Angel shook his head. “Its quiet here.”
Wesley nodded. “Shall I bring you something to eat? I’ll warm it up for you. Then maybe you’ll feel better.”
Angel didn’t respond, pulling back inside himself, but Wesley stood anyway, turning for the kitchen. Gunn watched as he emerged from the bedroom and moved to the refrigerator, and pulled out a container. “How’s he doing?” Gunn finally asked.
Wesley shrugged. “Better, I think. At least he’s talking. That’s new. I won’t really know until I can get him to let me see him in the light.” Wesley poured the dark red liquid into a coffee mug and put it in the microwave. “He’s confused, terrified—“
“Angel? Terrified?” Gunn stood. “That’s different. What of?”
Again Wesley shrugged. “I wish I knew. Something shattered him, Charles. He’s not the man we once knew.”
“Vampire.” Gunn said instinctively, then regretted it.
“Be that as it may, he is our friend. If we had been better friends we could have prevented this. If I’d seen—“
“This is NOT your fault, English.”
Wesley’s response was cut off by the microwave and Wesley grabbed the mug to head back to the bedroom, only half aware of Gunn following a few paces behind. “Angel?” Wesley said softly as he crossed the carpeted floor. “Here, try this.”
He knelt in front of Angel and offered the mug, but Angel’s eyes were on Gunn’s silhouette in the doorway. “Who?”
“It’s Charles, Angel. He came to see us. Would you like to see him?”
Angel shook his head, looking for all the world like a petulant five year old. Wesley sighed and put the warm mug in Angel’s hands. “Here then, drink this…and no throwing it around the room. I want it gone when I return.”
Gunn moved from the door as Wesley neared it, his face betraying his surprise at seeing Angel. “Boy looks bad,” he finally said after Wesley shut the door.
“He looks better now than he has,” Wesley countered, then walked Gunn toward the door. “Okay, here’s what I need you to do. Assume that the lines to the office and each of our homes have been tapped. Go directly to Anna, give her the information from my father and have her get started on sounding out her sources about any big mystical problems brewing.”
Gunn nodded. “Can do. What about you?”
“I’m going to have a shower and a shave and figure out what comes next. Can you go to Cordelia, tell her what you’ve seen here and tell her—tell her that I need her here this afternoon. I should relieve Fred of the baby, maybe pick up some more groceries. I need someone to stay here with him, and I think it would benefit him to see her.”
“Got it. “
What came next was actually Angel’s decision. As Wesley came back to the bedroom from his shower, wrapped in a towel, Angel was standing in the corner. Wesley smiled at him reassuringly. “I see you’re feeling better.”
Angel didn’t actually answer, only shuffled a little. “Did you drink it all?” To this Angel nodded, then attempted to take a step away from the wall. His legs weren’t very steady and Wesley had to jump to keep him from falling to the ground. Together, they moved slowly toward the bed until Angel could sit gingerly.
“Weak.” He said finally, looking up at Wesley.
“Yes, that comes from the not eating. I don’t know how long it has been, but now that you aren’t throwing it back up you should start getting stronger.”
“Gunn?”
“Gone. I’ve sent him to run some errands. He’ll be back. He’s bringing Cordelia to see you.” Wesley casually bent to turn on the bedside lamp. It wasn’t bright, but it dispelled a bit of the gloom hanging in the room. Angel turned away from the light, but only momentarily.
“Cordelia?” He seemed to be testing the name, tasting it. Then he grimaced.
“Angel?” Wesley came closer as the vampire closed his eyes and shook his head.
“No…not…real…” It took a moment, but Angel seemed to get control again and when he opened his eyes Wesley thought he saw an echo of the terror of the previous days. “I see them. I see what I did to them. You—it’s not real.”
Wesley wasn’t sure if the last part was a question or a statement. “Well, I don’t know what they are, since I can’t see them. But she’s alive.”
Angel swallowed and nodded slowly. “Head hurts.” His hands lifted to his temples, then dropped to his stomach. “Stomach hurts.”
Wesley pulled his robe back on, dropping the towel as he tied the belt. “It’s hard telling what you’ve been through, so I’m not surprised.” Wesley noticed that Angel had spilled some of his blood on his shirt and decided to try another step. “You should probably get cleaned up. Your last shower was days ago, and not really beneficial. I could help you.”
It took Angel a minute to realize what Wesley was saying, but he responded to Wesley’s hands reaching to help him up. It took a bit of doing, and a break half way to the bathroom, but they managed to get Angel into the bathroom and out of his clothes. Wesley filled the tub with hot water and helped Angel sink into the tub, trying to pretend his hand hadn’t brushed Angel’s cock, or that he felt it respond. Not sure he should leave Angel alone, Wesley sank to a seat on the floor beside the tub.
They were quiet a long time, though Wesley was glad to see that Angel didn’t revert back to the catatonic state he’d been in so often when there was silence these last few days. It was Angel who spoke next, his hand moving out of the water to touch his face. “You kissed me.” He said it like it had just happened, like he could still feel the touch of Wesley’s lips.
Wesley blushed and turned away. “Yes, it was…wrong, I’m sorry. I-“
“No.” It was the most forceful Angel had been and Wesley turned to look back at him. “Not wrong. Good.” He almost smiled, then the expression was lost and his thoughts turned away from Wesley again.
As his patient started to turn inward, Wesley determined it was time to get him out of the tub, though that proved more difficult than the getting in. Twenty minutes later, Wesley had Angel dressed in clean flannel pajamas and settled into clean sheets.
He turned to leave, but felt a hand touch his leg. “Stay.”
Wesley looked back at Angel and nodded. He switched off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed beside his friend. Angel nodded and kissed Wesley’s cheek. “Good,” he said, then his eyes were closed and he drifted to sleep, his face just inches from Wesley.
For his part, Wesley didn’t think he could sleep, not with the fire burning inside him after just that little kiss. A week with little sleep was stronger though than even the fire of a long controlled passion attempting to break free at last and Wesley slept.
When he woke he chased some half forgotten dream into wakefulness, instantly aware that he was alone in the bed and that several hours had passed. He sat up slowly, glancing beside him where he had last seen Angel, then into Angel’s corner. He was there, watching Wesley, rocking slightly and looking as if he were uncertain of himself. “Angel?”
“Dreams,” he said softly. Wesley nodded and got up.
He went to Angel and knelt beside him. “Were they bad?” Angel nodded, hugging himself tightly. Wesley smiled softly and brushed stray hair out of Angel’s eyes. “You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”
Angel’s eyes were dark and wouldn’t meet Wesley’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Wesley nodded, accepting the apology though he wasn’t sure what it was for. “Are you hungry? I’ll get you something.”
Angel’s hand on his arm stopped him. “No. Can’t.”
Wesley scowled. “You must eat, Angel.”
Angel shook his head. “That’s what she said. Gave me cups of blood.” He shivered and pulled his hand away. “Cold and bad and said it was yours. Made me drink.” He shook his head again. “No more.”
“Who, Angel? Who did this?”
Angel was pulling back. Wesley put a hand on his arm, trying to keep him focused. “Angel. I’m here to help you. I’m here, alive.” He was holding Angel’s hand now, his long fingers stroking softly, but Angel only stared at them, his free hand rising to touch the bandages at Wesley’s wrist.
“I know you are. I tasted you. I remembered.”
Wesley watched as Angel’s hands removed the bandages and exposed the nearly closed wound at his wrist. His had been the first blood Angel had not thrown up. He had tasted it first that night, when Wesley had nearly died at his hands. Angel kissed the wound tenderly and Wesley felt himself harden under his robe.
“Angel—I—“
“Want.” It was a simple word and like the parent of a spoiled child, Wesley gave in, closing his eyes as Angel’s teeth punctured the skin and the dizzying pull began. His body was alive, with fire dancing through his veins, pulled into Angel’s cold body and bringing something of life back to him.
Then Angel was kissing him, pulling frantically at his robe and Wesley was gasping for air, trying just as hard to not hurt Angel as they tossed for position on the floor. Somehow Angel got Wesley’s robe open and was kissing his belly before Wesley could register the wrongness of the situation. He didn’t want to take advantage of Angel’s weakened state to satisfy his own desires, but now Angel's hand was pulling his robe aside while the other did things to his cock he’d never imagined, at least not from Angel.
“Angel—“
“Want.” Angel said again, this time with a hungry edge to his voice and followed by his tongue sliding across Wesley’s skin, down the underside of his very hard cock and up again until Wesley gasped. His whole body shuddered as Angel’s mouth closed around him and his tongue swirled in an indescribable pattern that brought Wesley right to the brink in a heated rush. He couldn’t even moan as he came, his body jerking off the ground in response to Angel’s tongue and lips.
Angel slid to his side, resting his head on Wesley’s shoulder and bringing his wounded wrist slowly back to his mouth. “Want.”
“Yes, Angel.” Wesley couldn’t see the childlike happiness on Angel’s face as his mouth closed over the wound, but he knew he could never deny him again.
An hour later, Wesley finally succeeded in drawing Angel out of the darkness of the bedroom and into the slightly lighter living room where he could more closely examine the marks on Angel’s body, though Angel was not as easily convinced to allow him to remove the pajama shirt he was wearing. He blinked in the bright lights of the lamps that Wesley was turning on and crossed his arms.
“You needn’t say anything, Angel, nor tell me how it happened, or what it was. But, I need to see.”
“No.” Angel said, turning to follow Wesley’s movements around the room. Wesley could see the terror in his eyes though as he approached him.
“No one will hurt you. I’m here. “ Wesley smiled at him, his hand resting on Angel’s shoulder. “I promise you that you are safe.” Wesley reached for the buttons of the shirt, and Angel sat there dully, not helping him, but at least not fighting him anymore either.
Wesley decided that starting where Angel could see him was best, so positioned Angel sitting back a bit on the stool, his chin up so that Wesley could lean forward. Sensitive fingers skimmed the surface of the bumps, feeling for a pattern or sign that would help him unravel the puzzle. “I think it’s writing,” he murmured after a long silence. His finger had traveled part way down Angel’s torso. “A variant of a language I haven’t seen since my days at University.”
Wesley bit his lip and stood back. Angel wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Kalvidesh,” he whispered, shuddering. “She said it was Kalvidesh.”
Wesley’s eyes narrowed. This was the second time Angel had mentioned someone. “Who, Angel? Who said it was Kalvidesh?”
Angel shuddered again and for a moment looked as if he would disappear back into himself. Wesley touched his face, stroking his cheek as an invitation to stay with him.
“Naan.”
Wesley wasn’t certain whether it was a name or a title or a species. “Naan?” he repeated softly, and Angel stiffened, but nodded. “Was she…did she…do this? Make these marks?”
Again Angel nodded miserably, his arms crossing over them as if he could hide them. “How did she make them, Angel?” Wesley asked, his eyes drawn to a circle of the markings on the back of Angel’s right shoulder.
“Blood.” Angel responded, his eyes closing. He started shaking, and Wesley knew he had pushed too far.
“Okay, shh…that’s okay.” He softly caressed Angel’s back, moving to stand behind him so that he could hold Angel from behind. As he quieted, Wesley stepped back to get another look at his back, but was stopped by a quick knocking on his door, followed by it opening to reveal Cordelia holding several shopping bags and letting in the late afternoon sunlight. Angel screamed and turned away, burying his face in Wesley’s chest, clutching at Wesley in fear. Cordelia’s face was frozen in surprise, but she recovered quickly and managed to get the door closed.
Angel was sobbing and shaking and clinging to Wesley, who was stroking his hair and face while gesturing with his chin for Cordelia to put the bags down and come closer.
“There now, Angel, it’s only Cordelia. She’s come to see how you’re doing.” Wesley could feel Angel pulling himself together. “Give him a minute.” Wesley mouthed to Cordelia, who looked shocked, but nodded. “Angel?”
Angel pulled back a little, but wouldn’t look at Cordelia. “Is she real?” he asked in a whisper. Wesley wiped Angel’s face with one hand.
“Yes, she’s very real.”
“Not dead.”
“No, not dead.”
Angel nodded slowly, stealing glances out of the corners of his eyes to where she waited patiently. “Cordelia.” His voice was barely audible and he jumped when she smiled at him.
“Hey.” Obviously whatever retail therapy she had used to overcome her earlier disagreement had worked, or seeing Angel like this affected her as it had Wesley. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said, then looked to Wesley for guidance.
“Tired.” Angel said in response, pulling on Wesley’s sleeve.
“Of course. This was a big step. I’ll take you back to bed. Cordelia, if you wouldn’t mind waiting here.” Angel leaned on Wesley for support, but nearly as much as he had in days past, and it only took a minute to settle him in to the bed. Wesley pulled the door closed behind him and exhaled sharply. “Thank you.”
“Gunn told me, but I didn’t—he looks—bad.”
Wesley nodded. “Yes, he does.” He sank to a seat on the couch wearily. “Whatever he’s been through, and I’m beginning to get a picture of that, broke him.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “It may even be tied into this business with my Father.”
Cordelia sat next to him, her face filled with concern. “I may not be the most sensitive among us, Wes, but even I can see this is getting to you.”
“Its likely my fault,” he said miserably.
“How?”
“The spell that made him behave that way was mine. My father and the council used it to get to me, to make me finish the duty they had wanted me to do all along.”
“Kill Angel?”
Wesley nodded. “I crafted it when I was younger. I never used it, but I couldn’t bring myself to destroy it either. I wanted it to –It isn’t important…But if I’d have recognized the effects, I could have crafted a counter spell. I think it wore off, or was wearing off when—“ Wesley shook his head and exhaled slowly.
“Wes, you can’t blame yourself for this.”
Wesley hung his head and sighed. He was suddenly very tired. “It doesn’t matter right now. We have problems to solve. I need to get some things from the office, see if I can translate whatever it is that is written on Angel’s skin, see if Anna’s made any progress. I need to see Connor.” He stood and paced a little around the room. “Can you stay here and keep an eye on him? I shouldn’t be long, but I don’t really want to leave him alone either.”
Cordelia nodded a little hesitantly, standing and folding her arms. “What if he wakes up?”
Wesley looked at the door, listening for a moment. “He shouldn’t, but if he does, he’ll probably keep to himself. If you talk to him, be gentle and patient. He’s dealing with some pretty strong delusions. Whoever did this convinced him that he’d killed us all. It’s taking him some time to accept that we aren’t in his head.”
Cordelia nodded. “I can make some dinner. I brought groceries, and some stuff for Angel.”
Wesley was pulling on his jacket and reaching for his keys, but paused. “Don’t offer him anything until I get back. You could trigger a reaction.”
“Reaction?”
“A flashback followed by an outburst. Mostly its been sobbing and reverting to a catatonic state, but there’s been violence as well.”
“Got it, no blood for Angel.”
Wesley smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be back as quickly as I’m able.”
Chapters 5 & 6
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17
Setting: Part way through season 3, alternate universe type of thing (wherein I would take a different road than Joss...because last I checked, I wasn't Joss....)
Disclaimer: If wishes came true, Angel and Wesley would live in my closet, and I would play with them mightily...but alas...they do not
Feedback: gladly accepted...greatly appreciated
Story Summary: Angel's slide into darkness takes a nasty turn, even as Wesley discovers its cause, and Angel disappears after torturing Wesley. A year later, Angel is back, and this time Wesley is a changed man. Wesley goes out hunting, aiming to finally fulfill the destiny his father demanded of him, only what he finds is neither the vampire he befriended, nor his evil alter ego, but a broken hero, his mind torn apart by torture far worse than anything he ever dished out.
*cross posted to AO3*
Click Here for Chapters 1 & 2
Fallen Angel – Chapter Three
Wesley woke to the sound of knocking on the front door. A quick glance at the bed showed Angel still sleeping. Wesley pulled himself up, stiff muscles protesting and shuffled to the living room, carefully pulling the bedroom door closed behind him. The shadows hanging in the apartment told him that it was late afternoon as he crossed to the door.
The delivery boy was familiar, though Wesley couldn’t place his name as he fumbled for his wallet and nodded his thanks while the boy settled the box and two bags inside the door. Stifling a yawn, Wesley herded the groceries toward the kitchen and spent the next few minutes putting them away.
His nap hadn’t done him a lot of good and he found himself stretching to straighten out his back as he lifted the canister of baby formula out of the box. The sight of it made him smile, and realize how much he missed having the little guy around. He had asked Fred to watch him while he had gone out to take care of Angel.
Wesley sighed and finished his task. No matter how much he wanted Conner home, he knew it wouldn’t do to have him there with Angel…not yet anyway. Not that Fred would mind, she loved the baby as much as any of them did, no matter his parentage or the circumstances that had brought him to their lives.
As far as the world was concerned, Wesley was Conner’s father, and a few favors called in had given him a legitimate birth certificate, or one that would pass the most stringent forgery tests anyway. Cordelia and Fred acted as surrogate mothers, taking turns keeping him when Wesley simply could not.
Wesley started a pot of coffee for what promised to be a long night, and arranged his gathered books on the kitchen table. He wasn’t really sure where to begin, so picked up a book from the pile of ones Anna had brought him. It was an old Watcher’s text, indexing arcane languages used in ancient spells. He flipped through it, hoping to find something that resembled the marks he had seen on Angel, but his view had been brief and his lack of familiarity with the markings made them difficult to remember.
The next was a mythology that he didn’t even remember owning. He didn’t often question Anna’s intuition, but wondered what this book could have to do with the other. Written in a language akin to several Middle Eastern dialects it wasn’t difficult to get a general gist of the story. Wesley skimmed through the pages, committing as much to memory as he could in the swift reading, in case it became necessary.
Several hour later, still deeply involved in the mythology that Anna had slipped in with his books, Wesley heard movement in the bedroom. He set the book aside and pulled a container of blood from the refrigerator, carefully pouring it into a coffee mug to warm in the microwave.
When it was done, he went softly to the bedroom door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Hollow, sunken eyes stared back at him from the corner of the room where Angel crouched. Wesley crossed the room on bare feet and crouched in front of Angel.
“Are you feeling better, Angel?” he asked quietly, cradling the mug of blood between them. “I’ve brought you something.” He tried to hold it out to him, but Angel shut his eyes and shook his head.
“No.”
“You must feed, Angel.” Wesley held the cup between them for a moment, one hand reaching out for Angel’s. “You’ll never get better if you—“
“No!” Angel’s hand flung out and knocked the mug from Wesley’s hand. It crashed against the wall, shattering. Wesley cussed and pulled his hand away.
“Really, Angel.” He started picking up the pieces, grimacing at the bright red splash across his wall. “That wasn’t necessary.” He heard the sobbing start and turned to see Angel’s body slumping to one side as he buried his head in his hands. His distraction allowed one of the pieces in his hand to slip, slicing neatly through the meaty part of his palm as it fell back to the floor. Again, Wesley cussed and instinctively brought the cut to his mouth. He let the gathered pieces fall back to the floor and moved back to sit on the bed, nursing his wounded hand.
It wasn’t until he felt Angel’s hands that he’d realized the vampire had moved from the corner. “Hurt.” Angel said, his hands touching Wesley’s.
“Yes, a bit.” Wesley answered, watching breathlessly as Angel leaned closer and opened his mouth. He wanted to say something, move, but he couldn’t as Angel’s tongue slipped out over the wound. Then Angel’s mouth was closing over it. The sensation of those lips sucking gently at the open flesh made Wesley’s head swim. There was no biting, Angel’s face remained that of a mortal man, but the pulling was touching something much deeper in Wesley.
Angel’s body was between Wesley’s legs, his shoulder putting a light pressure in his crotch as he bent over Wesley’s leg to lick and suck at his hand. Wesley was afraid to move, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid of losing the pleasant intimacy of those touches, or because he was afraid of frightening Angel.
Wesley’s eyes closed as Angel shifted, his arm moving against Wesley’s growing cock as the natural flow of blood began curbing and he had to work harder to keep it flowing into him. The warmth growing through Wesley began as a fire in his groin that he was having a hard time keeping under control and brought a flush to his face.
No, this was wrong. On so many levels. As gently as possible, Wesley maneuvered his hand away from Angel, and pulled his body back a little further on the bed. Angel sat still, his eyes focused on the carpet. Wesley cleared his throat and willed his body into submission. It occurred to him that he might get Angel to feed now. It only took a moment to leave the room and return with another cup, less full this time. He knelt beside Angel and held the cup up to his lips.
The vampire seemed empty as Wesley set the cup to his lips and poured a swallow of the warm red liquid into his mouth. There was a long hesitation before he swallowed, but he did swallow. Wesley got two more into him before he decided he wouldn’t push his luck.
“There now, that wasn’t so bad,” he whispered, wiping the corner’s of Angel’s mouth with his t-shirt. “How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
Wesley hadn’t expected an answer, but nodded none the less. “Let’s get you back up into the bed then, shall we?”
The next two days were filled with much the same, Wesley would read and research while Angel slept. Angel slept until the nightmares chased him out of the bed and into the dark corners of the bedroom or into the closet. Each time he woke, Wesley tried to convince him to feed. Sometimes he managed to get a swallow or two into him and keep it there, but more often than not Angel would refuse, sometimes violently.
Wesley’s piles of books grew, and stacks of them covered the living room table, the kitchen table and several spots on the floor. His notebook was filled with words Angel called out in his dreams, or spoke when awake. A half eaten plate of food sat off to the side of him, several open books spread in front of him, and in his lap was his personal journal, open to the pages from just before Angel had left.
Wesley sat staring at the entire mess without really seeing any of it. He wasn’t making any progress. In fact he hadn’t felt like this much of a failure since that night. He’d gone to the hotel, looking for Angel, to explain what he thought had happened. Angel wasn’t there, in fact nobody was, just a message from Cordelia telling him that Angel wanted him to come to that warehouse.
He’d known it was a trap, but he had gone anyway. He couldn’t have refused. There was a chance the spell would wear off on its own, but Wesley had crafted a counter spell. He only had to get close enough to use it. There had been no moon that night, and Angel was waiting for him in that dark. The scuffle had been brief, but bloody, and Wesley had managed to hold his own, at least until Angel had played his trump card, the barely conscious form of Cordelia.
Wesley had lost his footing then, as Angel held Cordy, bent as if he would feed from her. He had fallen, his ankle sprained, and Angel had gained the upper hand.
Wesley fought weakly as Angel wrapped chains around his body, securing him to a pillar. Angel laughed. “Are you going to help me now, Wes?”
“Cause as I recall, this is the part that I’m good at.” Angel paced around him,
“Angel, this isn’t you. There was a spell—“
“Isn’t there always?” Angel was in front of him now, Wesley’s own knife in his hand. It wasn’t large, but deadly sharp. He toyed with it, watching the flecks of light as he turned it in his hand. “Maybe this really is me Wes. Maybe I like me this way.”
Wesley shook his head and swallowed. “No, I know better. I know you.”
“Do you know?” There was the vaguest suggestion of an Irish brogue in the words and Wesley blanched as Angel raised the knife. “Then you know how good I am at this part.”
The movement was slow, deliberate, a small, shallow cut along Wesley’s jaw line. Blood welled at it and Angel leaned closer still and slowly licked the wound. “Mmmm, you taste good Wes.”
He made a matching wound on the other side of his face, licking it as well. Wesley caught his breath, suddenly flush with the arousal Angel’s nearness had always caused in the early days of their friendship. He tried to will it away, but there was no denying the ache he had suppressed for years.
Angel chuckled and moved away, offering Wesley a small respite to gather himself. “Angel, this is the council’s doing—“
“Maybe, Wes. But maybe I don’t care.”
“You are not yourself. Let me help you.”
Angel turned swiftly, his hand swinging out to connect with Wesley’s face. The blow stung and Wesley’s head snapped to the side with the force. “Help me what, Wes? Torture you? I think I can do that without your help.” He moved in close and raised the blade again, slowly licking Wesley’s blood from it. He watched Wesley squirm against the chains as he pressed in closer, moving his leg between Wesley’s so that their thighs touched. “Or maybe you have other ideas?” His empty hand darted down to cup Wesley’s crotch and his already semi-hard cock.
Wesley moaned and Angel laughed. “I always knew you liked me Wes.” Angel whispered in his ear. Wesley turned his head away, but Angel’s hand was rubbing up and down his cock now and he was finding it hard to concentrate. Angel licked at the wound on his left jaw. “So good. Can I taste some more?”
Angel’s lips captured Wesley’s in a kiss that turned to something else as his teeth grazed them. bringing beads of blood to the surface for Angel to suck at. Wesley sagged against his bounds, unable to deny his body’s reaction as Angel drank from him and rubbed his crotch.
Then Angel was gone, that touch, those lips…Wesley opened eyes he didn’t remember shutting and looked around. He never saw the fist that connected with his face, sending him reeling into the darkness.
When he woke, Angel was shoving a heated piece of rebar into Wesley’s leg. “Thought that might wake you.” Angel said, laughing. “You keep dozing off on me Wes. I thought you liked me.” Wesley couldn’t keep from yelling as the metal tore through his leg. Pain exploded around it, and for a moment that was all he could concentrate on. Then it was overwhelmed by the pain in his shoulder. Wesley turned his head as Angel leaned into the metal spike he was pushing into Wesley.
“Angel.” Wesley gasped it, his eyes rising to meet the dark ones of his tormentor. For the briefest of moments, Wesley thought he saw doubt, fear, in those eyes, then Angel was turning away, pacing over to where Cordelia had been slumped. She was gone and Angel laughed again.
“Where’d you go, Cordy? We’re just getting started.”
Wesley watched Angel move into the shadows cast by the moon and the scattered equipment, and tried not to move himself as he felt Cordelia’s hands on his.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Angel called.
Wesley couldn’t see him anymore. “Hurry,” he mouthed to Cordelia as she tried to move the chains that bound him. He felt them give, just as Angel came back into view. With his unwounded hand, Wesley pushed Cordelia toward the door. “Go!” He didn’t get a chance to see if she had, as Angel crashed into him and they toppled to the floor.
Wesley screamed in pain as the rebar sticking through his leg connected first with the floor, then with Angel’s leg. Angel’s hands were pressing into his leg around the wound and Wesley’s vision started to swim. His last sight was of Angel’s face, losing the vampire ridges, softening, then a bright flash of light and everything went black.
He’d woken in the hospital, with Cordelia and Gunn sitting watch. Wesley shook his head and set aside the journal. The apartment was quiet and dark. He realized he didn’t know what time it was, or even what day. He ran a hand through his hair and over the rough stubble on his face.
He needed sleep, and a shower. He needed to find out what his father wanted, what the council wanted. It was clear they hadn’t known about Angel. Stuck in a moment of indecision, Wesley jumped when the phone rang. He smiled at himself and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”
“Just making sure you’re still among the living. Anna hadn’t heard from you. Cordy hadn’t heard from you. Fred says Conner hasn’t seen you since—“”
“I’m fine Charles.”
“And the vampire?”
Wesley sighed wearily. “He’s—sleeping.”
“Any closer to figuring out what’s going on?”
“Not really, I’m afraid. I have some clues, mostly things he’s said, but they aren’t leading anywhere. Someone has really done a number on Angel’s head.”
“Don’t think I want to know what could do that to him.”
“Hmm…yes, well. I at least want to find a way to undo it.”
“What if you can’t?”
Wesley wasn’t ready yet to consider that possibility. If Wesley couldn’t help Angel out of the darkness, Wesley would have to stake him. There was no way he could leave him like this to slowly wither away. Wesley swallowed and changed the subject. “I wonder if you might do me a favor?”
“Depends on whether or not it involves hurting bad guys.”
Wesley smiled. “Not right away, Charles, but soon. Right now I need you to check with Anna for the address to the hotel where my father is staying. He has an offer from the Council, and I want you to go tell him you’re there to hear it. No mention of Angel though, or the fact that he’s back, no matter what he says. Just hear him out and come to me.”
“You want me to go talk to your father.”
“Yes Charles. I’m sending him a message.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Yes, it is.”
“All right. Anything else?”
Wesley hesitated. “How is Conner?”
“Fred says he wants you.”
“I’ll try to stop in to see him tomorrow. I just can’t leave Angel alone again.”
They were quiet for a minute, then Wesley asked, “And, Cordelia? How is she?”
“She’s dealing. Not well, but dealing.”
“Good, we may need her before this whole thing is over.”
“I’ll do the Daddy thing in the morning, and come by your place after.” Gunn said and Wesley nodded, despite the fact that Gunn couldn’t see him.
“I’ll be here.”
Just as Wesley put the phone down, he heard Angel screaming from the bedroom. He pulled open the door to find the Vampire in his usual corner, his t-shirt ripped off, his hands scratching at the skin on his chest and arms. “No! Not-Won’t!”
Wesley crossed the room quickly and grabbed Angel’s hands. “Shh…Angel, Shh…There’s no need to hurt yourself.” Angel’s back was against the wall, his face paler than it had ever been. Long lines of blood marked where his nails had raked the skin, staining the marks raised there and making them stand out even more. Wesley was torn between trying to read them and trying to calm Angel. Eventually, Angel’s struggle won him over, needing all of his strength and concentration to keep him still.
With their bodies so close together, Wesley felt that familiar rush come over him. He whispered to Angel, though he had no idea what he was saying, just noises to bring Angle into the room with him, into himself. He pressed his body against Angel’s, against the wall, moving his hands out to the side so they would stop their scratching. Angel was still mouthing a string of negatives, and Wesley found himself watching Angel’s mouth, until suddenly he was kissing him.
Angel’s words stopped as Wesley’s lips closed over his. Wesley’s eyes closed as he felt the vampire relax. Slowly, Wesley released his grip on Angel’s wrists and they fell to his side. Then he moved back until only his lips were touching Angel. Wesley’s body was rocking with desire, his cock hard in his jeans. It was wrong, and he knew it, but Angel had calmed.
He ended the kiss and pulled back, opening his eyes to watch as Angel slowly slid to the floor. He was calmer than he had been, though his hands still moved over the marks on his chest. Wesley sat beside him on the floor, trying to draw him out. Angel moved so that he was leaning on Wesley, his head on Wesley’s shoulder.
“There now, Angel. It will be all right,” he said softly, his hand moving to stroke Angel’s cheek. The Band-Aid that had covered his sliced palm had gotten lost, and the cut felt odd as it brushed against Angel’s chin. Angel’s lips brushed his palm on his next pass, then his hands closed over Wesley’s holding his wrist against his mouth. At first it was just kisses. Then Wesley felt the touch of the teeth, the dizzying pull as Angel drank. It lasted only a moment, then Angel released him, but Wesley felt it in the core of his being.
They sat a few moments in silence, then Angel’s head lifted. He looked at Wesley almost as if seeing him for the first time. “Wesley.”
Wesley nodded. “Yes, Angel. I’m here.”
Angel nodded, mirroring Wesley. “Where?”
Wesley’s fatigue pulled at him and he had to stifle a yawn. “My apartment.”
Angel shook his head now, then licked his lips. “I taste you.”
Wesley smiled, looking down at the wound in his wrist. “Hmm…yes. How do you feel?”
Angel was done talking though, laying himself down so that his head was on Wesley’s lap. Wesley let him lift his wrist back to his mouth, taking a little more before the vampire was asleep. Wesley wasn’t far behind, leaning back against the wall, and cradling Angel’s head on his thigh.
Chapter Four
Wesley closed the bedroom door and stumbled to answer the ringing of the doorbell before Angel was wakened by it. His bathrobe mostly covered the bandage on his wrist. He felt scruffy and tried to remember when he had last shaved as he opened the door and motioned Gunn inside. The morning was bright and already warm.
“I brought breakfast.” Gunn said, waving a bag from the donut shop on the corner.
“Donuts are not breakfast.” Wesley countered, though he took the bag. “Sit down, I’ll make coffee.”
“Sleeping in?” Gunn moved some books and sat on the couch, gesturing at the robe when Wesley looked confused.
Wesley weighed his answer carefully. “Long night,” he finally said, as he poured water into the coffee maker.
“Angel?”
Wesley nodded, feeling the tightness in his neck and shoulders. “He sleeps for a few hours, then nightmares shake him. He’s having difficulty feeding, and when he does he regurgitates it almost immediately. It’s rather like taking care of an addict in rehabilitation.”
“Well, you look like shit.”
Wesley smiled. “Thank you Charles.”
Wesley busied himself with putting the donuts onto a plate and selecting mugs from the cupboard to fill with coffee. He could hear Angel moving around, but couldn’t tell if it was because he was awake, or if it was due to some nightmare. As the coffee finished he poured two cups, then moved into the living room.
“So, what did my father have to say?” Wesley set the coffee down on the small patch of clean table, then balanced the plate of donuts atop a stack of books before selecting a small plain frycake and sinking into his recliner.
“That dude is more uptight than you, and I didn’t think that was possible.” Gunn snatched a chocolate frosted and sat back. “Don’t think he liked me much.”
Wesley smiled again. “That was why I sent you. It would keep him off balance. That and I knew he wouldn’t bully you.”
Gunn nodded around his donut. “Damn straight. When I told him who I was and why I was there he got this look on his face, like he was gonna pop a gasket.” Gunn sat up ramrod straight and adopted a very bad British accent. “I came here to speak with my son, not some ruffian he sends along in his place. He very well should be here himself.” Gunn slouched down again. “So I told him I was all he was getting, cause the boss man was busy taking care of business, working on a big situation.”
Wesley nodded and sipped at his coffee. It wasn’t strong enough to pull the fatigue out of his bones. “Very good. What did the council want?”
“Alliance. Seems they got some word on some big-bad thing headed this way. They’re willing to share the info if we do some stuff for them.”
“Did he say what they wanted us to do for them?”
Gunn shook his head. “Nope, but it doesn’t sound like a good idea, you know? One uptight English guy’s all I need in my life.”
Wesley was too deep in thought to recognize or rise to the barb. “Did he give you any indication what it is they say is coming?”
“No, just something big. He seemed to think we couldn’t handle it on our own. I told him we’d done all right so far. Told him to sit tight and one of us would be round to give him an answer.”
“Good. Very good. My father is not a patient man, and we have time.” He was about to say something more when the sound of his name from the bedroom interrupted. Wesley jumped and waved Gunn down. “Stay here. He isn’t ready.”
Wesley opened the door and took a moment to let his eyes adjust. Angel was huddled in his corner, shaking. Wesley went to him, but stopped as Angel’s eyes met his. For the first time he saw a hint of the old Angel in them. “Wesley.”
“Yes, Angel.” Wesley knelt in front of him and made no move to reach out to him.
“Is-is this…real?”
Wesley nodded slowly. “Yes, Angel. Very real indeed.”
“You-you’re not—I didn’t—“ Angel trailed off and closed his eyes. He seemed to swallow with difficulty. “I thought I killed you.”
“No, Angel. I’m quite fine.”
“Where—how—no—“ Angel shook his head, pressing his hands to his temple. “I can see it. I killed you…and Buffy…and Cordy…and…”
Wesley took Angel’s hands and pulled them away from his face. “We are all quite fine, I assure you.” Wesley rubbed strong thumbs along the backs of Angel’s hands, trying to help bring him back to the immediate moment.
“I hurt you.” Angel said after a long time, his eyes falling on the bandages at Wesley’s wrist.
“No, not at all.” Wesley pulled his hands away.
“Before.” Angel said, his eyes looking for Wesley’s again. “Before.”
It took Wesley a moment to understand. “What? Oh, yes. That. Yes, you did. But you weren’t yourself. Do you think you’re ready to try standing up?”
Angel shook his head. “Its quiet here.”
Wesley nodded. “Shall I bring you something to eat? I’ll warm it up for you. Then maybe you’ll feel better.”
Angel didn’t respond, pulling back inside himself, but Wesley stood anyway, turning for the kitchen. Gunn watched as he emerged from the bedroom and moved to the refrigerator, and pulled out a container. “How’s he doing?” Gunn finally asked.
Wesley shrugged. “Better, I think. At least he’s talking. That’s new. I won’t really know until I can get him to let me see him in the light.” Wesley poured the dark red liquid into a coffee mug and put it in the microwave. “He’s confused, terrified—“
“Angel? Terrified?” Gunn stood. “That’s different. What of?”
Again Wesley shrugged. “I wish I knew. Something shattered him, Charles. He’s not the man we once knew.”
“Vampire.” Gunn said instinctively, then regretted it.
“Be that as it may, he is our friend. If we had been better friends we could have prevented this. If I’d seen—“
“This is NOT your fault, English.”
Wesley’s response was cut off by the microwave and Wesley grabbed the mug to head back to the bedroom, only half aware of Gunn following a few paces behind. “Angel?” Wesley said softly as he crossed the carpeted floor. “Here, try this.”
He knelt in front of Angel and offered the mug, but Angel’s eyes were on Gunn’s silhouette in the doorway. “Who?”
“It’s Charles, Angel. He came to see us. Would you like to see him?”
Angel shook his head, looking for all the world like a petulant five year old. Wesley sighed and put the warm mug in Angel’s hands. “Here then, drink this…and no throwing it around the room. I want it gone when I return.”
Gunn moved from the door as Wesley neared it, his face betraying his surprise at seeing Angel. “Boy looks bad,” he finally said after Wesley shut the door.
“He looks better now than he has,” Wesley countered, then walked Gunn toward the door. “Okay, here’s what I need you to do. Assume that the lines to the office and each of our homes have been tapped. Go directly to Anna, give her the information from my father and have her get started on sounding out her sources about any big mystical problems brewing.”
Gunn nodded. “Can do. What about you?”
“I’m going to have a shower and a shave and figure out what comes next. Can you go to Cordelia, tell her what you’ve seen here and tell her—tell her that I need her here this afternoon. I should relieve Fred of the baby, maybe pick up some more groceries. I need someone to stay here with him, and I think it would benefit him to see her.”
“Got it. “
What came next was actually Angel’s decision. As Wesley came back to the bedroom from his shower, wrapped in a towel, Angel was standing in the corner. Wesley smiled at him reassuringly. “I see you’re feeling better.”
Angel didn’t actually answer, only shuffled a little. “Did you drink it all?” To this Angel nodded, then attempted to take a step away from the wall. His legs weren’t very steady and Wesley had to jump to keep him from falling to the ground. Together, they moved slowly toward the bed until Angel could sit gingerly.
“Weak.” He said finally, looking up at Wesley.
“Yes, that comes from the not eating. I don’t know how long it has been, but now that you aren’t throwing it back up you should start getting stronger.”
“Gunn?”
“Gone. I’ve sent him to run some errands. He’ll be back. He’s bringing Cordelia to see you.” Wesley casually bent to turn on the bedside lamp. It wasn’t bright, but it dispelled a bit of the gloom hanging in the room. Angel turned away from the light, but only momentarily.
“Cordelia?” He seemed to be testing the name, tasting it. Then he grimaced.
“Angel?” Wesley came closer as the vampire closed his eyes and shook his head.
“No…not…real…” It took a moment, but Angel seemed to get control again and when he opened his eyes Wesley thought he saw an echo of the terror of the previous days. “I see them. I see what I did to them. You—it’s not real.”
Wesley wasn’t sure if the last part was a question or a statement. “Well, I don’t know what they are, since I can’t see them. But she’s alive.”
Angel swallowed and nodded slowly. “Head hurts.” His hands lifted to his temples, then dropped to his stomach. “Stomach hurts.”
Wesley pulled his robe back on, dropping the towel as he tied the belt. “It’s hard telling what you’ve been through, so I’m not surprised.” Wesley noticed that Angel had spilled some of his blood on his shirt and decided to try another step. “You should probably get cleaned up. Your last shower was days ago, and not really beneficial. I could help you.”
It took Angel a minute to realize what Wesley was saying, but he responded to Wesley’s hands reaching to help him up. It took a bit of doing, and a break half way to the bathroom, but they managed to get Angel into the bathroom and out of his clothes. Wesley filled the tub with hot water and helped Angel sink into the tub, trying to pretend his hand hadn’t brushed Angel’s cock, or that he felt it respond. Not sure he should leave Angel alone, Wesley sank to a seat on the floor beside the tub.
They were quiet a long time, though Wesley was glad to see that Angel didn’t revert back to the catatonic state he’d been in so often when there was silence these last few days. It was Angel who spoke next, his hand moving out of the water to touch his face. “You kissed me.” He said it like it had just happened, like he could still feel the touch of Wesley’s lips.
Wesley blushed and turned away. “Yes, it was…wrong, I’m sorry. I-“
“No.” It was the most forceful Angel had been and Wesley turned to look back at him. “Not wrong. Good.” He almost smiled, then the expression was lost and his thoughts turned away from Wesley again.
As his patient started to turn inward, Wesley determined it was time to get him out of the tub, though that proved more difficult than the getting in. Twenty minutes later, Wesley had Angel dressed in clean flannel pajamas and settled into clean sheets.
He turned to leave, but felt a hand touch his leg. “Stay.”
Wesley looked back at Angel and nodded. He switched off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed beside his friend. Angel nodded and kissed Wesley’s cheek. “Good,” he said, then his eyes were closed and he drifted to sleep, his face just inches from Wesley.
For his part, Wesley didn’t think he could sleep, not with the fire burning inside him after just that little kiss. A week with little sleep was stronger though than even the fire of a long controlled passion attempting to break free at last and Wesley slept.
When he woke he chased some half forgotten dream into wakefulness, instantly aware that he was alone in the bed and that several hours had passed. He sat up slowly, glancing beside him where he had last seen Angel, then into Angel’s corner. He was there, watching Wesley, rocking slightly and looking as if he were uncertain of himself. “Angel?”
“Dreams,” he said softly. Wesley nodded and got up.
He went to Angel and knelt beside him. “Were they bad?” Angel nodded, hugging himself tightly. Wesley smiled softly and brushed stray hair out of Angel’s eyes. “You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”
Angel’s eyes were dark and wouldn’t meet Wesley’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Wesley nodded, accepting the apology though he wasn’t sure what it was for. “Are you hungry? I’ll get you something.”
Angel’s hand on his arm stopped him. “No. Can’t.”
Wesley scowled. “You must eat, Angel.”
Angel shook his head. “That’s what she said. Gave me cups of blood.” He shivered and pulled his hand away. “Cold and bad and said it was yours. Made me drink.” He shook his head again. “No more.”
“Who, Angel? Who did this?”
Angel was pulling back. Wesley put a hand on his arm, trying to keep him focused. “Angel. I’m here to help you. I’m here, alive.” He was holding Angel’s hand now, his long fingers stroking softly, but Angel only stared at them, his free hand rising to touch the bandages at Wesley’s wrist.
“I know you are. I tasted you. I remembered.”
Wesley watched as Angel’s hands removed the bandages and exposed the nearly closed wound at his wrist. His had been the first blood Angel had not thrown up. He had tasted it first that night, when Wesley had nearly died at his hands. Angel kissed the wound tenderly and Wesley felt himself harden under his robe.
“Angel—I—“
“Want.” It was a simple word and like the parent of a spoiled child, Wesley gave in, closing his eyes as Angel’s teeth punctured the skin and the dizzying pull began. His body was alive, with fire dancing through his veins, pulled into Angel’s cold body and bringing something of life back to him.
Then Angel was kissing him, pulling frantically at his robe and Wesley was gasping for air, trying just as hard to not hurt Angel as they tossed for position on the floor. Somehow Angel got Wesley’s robe open and was kissing his belly before Wesley could register the wrongness of the situation. He didn’t want to take advantage of Angel’s weakened state to satisfy his own desires, but now Angel's hand was pulling his robe aside while the other did things to his cock he’d never imagined, at least not from Angel.
“Angel—“
“Want.” Angel said again, this time with a hungry edge to his voice and followed by his tongue sliding across Wesley’s skin, down the underside of his very hard cock and up again until Wesley gasped. His whole body shuddered as Angel’s mouth closed around him and his tongue swirled in an indescribable pattern that brought Wesley right to the brink in a heated rush. He couldn’t even moan as he came, his body jerking off the ground in response to Angel’s tongue and lips.
Angel slid to his side, resting his head on Wesley’s shoulder and bringing his wounded wrist slowly back to his mouth. “Want.”
“Yes, Angel.” Wesley couldn’t see the childlike happiness on Angel’s face as his mouth closed over the wound, but he knew he could never deny him again.
An hour later, Wesley finally succeeded in drawing Angel out of the darkness of the bedroom and into the slightly lighter living room where he could more closely examine the marks on Angel’s body, though Angel was not as easily convinced to allow him to remove the pajama shirt he was wearing. He blinked in the bright lights of the lamps that Wesley was turning on and crossed his arms.
“You needn’t say anything, Angel, nor tell me how it happened, or what it was. But, I need to see.”
“No.” Angel said, turning to follow Wesley’s movements around the room. Wesley could see the terror in his eyes though as he approached him.
“No one will hurt you. I’m here. “ Wesley smiled at him, his hand resting on Angel’s shoulder. “I promise you that you are safe.” Wesley reached for the buttons of the shirt, and Angel sat there dully, not helping him, but at least not fighting him anymore either.
Wesley decided that starting where Angel could see him was best, so positioned Angel sitting back a bit on the stool, his chin up so that Wesley could lean forward. Sensitive fingers skimmed the surface of the bumps, feeling for a pattern or sign that would help him unravel the puzzle. “I think it’s writing,” he murmured after a long silence. His finger had traveled part way down Angel’s torso. “A variant of a language I haven’t seen since my days at University.”
Wesley bit his lip and stood back. Angel wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Kalvidesh,” he whispered, shuddering. “She said it was Kalvidesh.”
Wesley’s eyes narrowed. This was the second time Angel had mentioned someone. “Who, Angel? Who said it was Kalvidesh?”
Angel shuddered again and for a moment looked as if he would disappear back into himself. Wesley touched his face, stroking his cheek as an invitation to stay with him.
“Naan.”
Wesley wasn’t certain whether it was a name or a title or a species. “Naan?” he repeated softly, and Angel stiffened, but nodded. “Was she…did she…do this? Make these marks?”
Again Angel nodded miserably, his arms crossing over them as if he could hide them. “How did she make them, Angel?” Wesley asked, his eyes drawn to a circle of the markings on the back of Angel’s right shoulder.
“Blood.” Angel responded, his eyes closing. He started shaking, and Wesley knew he had pushed too far.
“Okay, shh…that’s okay.” He softly caressed Angel’s back, moving to stand behind him so that he could hold Angel from behind. As he quieted, Wesley stepped back to get another look at his back, but was stopped by a quick knocking on his door, followed by it opening to reveal Cordelia holding several shopping bags and letting in the late afternoon sunlight. Angel screamed and turned away, burying his face in Wesley’s chest, clutching at Wesley in fear. Cordelia’s face was frozen in surprise, but she recovered quickly and managed to get the door closed.
Angel was sobbing and shaking and clinging to Wesley, who was stroking his hair and face while gesturing with his chin for Cordelia to put the bags down and come closer.
“There now, Angel, it’s only Cordelia. She’s come to see how you’re doing.” Wesley could feel Angel pulling himself together. “Give him a minute.” Wesley mouthed to Cordelia, who looked shocked, but nodded. “Angel?”
Angel pulled back a little, but wouldn’t look at Cordelia. “Is she real?” he asked in a whisper. Wesley wiped Angel’s face with one hand.
“Yes, she’s very real.”
“Not dead.”
“No, not dead.”
Angel nodded slowly, stealing glances out of the corners of his eyes to where she waited patiently. “Cordelia.” His voice was barely audible and he jumped when she smiled at him.
“Hey.” Obviously whatever retail therapy she had used to overcome her earlier disagreement had worked, or seeing Angel like this affected her as it had Wesley. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said, then looked to Wesley for guidance.
“Tired.” Angel said in response, pulling on Wesley’s sleeve.
“Of course. This was a big step. I’ll take you back to bed. Cordelia, if you wouldn’t mind waiting here.” Angel leaned on Wesley for support, but nearly as much as he had in days past, and it only took a minute to settle him in to the bed. Wesley pulled the door closed behind him and exhaled sharply. “Thank you.”
“Gunn told me, but I didn’t—he looks—bad.”
Wesley nodded. “Yes, he does.” He sank to a seat on the couch wearily. “Whatever he’s been through, and I’m beginning to get a picture of that, broke him.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “It may even be tied into this business with my Father.”
Cordelia sat next to him, her face filled with concern. “I may not be the most sensitive among us, Wes, but even I can see this is getting to you.”
“Its likely my fault,” he said miserably.
“How?”
“The spell that made him behave that way was mine. My father and the council used it to get to me, to make me finish the duty they had wanted me to do all along.”
“Kill Angel?”
Wesley nodded. “I crafted it when I was younger. I never used it, but I couldn’t bring myself to destroy it either. I wanted it to –It isn’t important…But if I’d have recognized the effects, I could have crafted a counter spell. I think it wore off, or was wearing off when—“ Wesley shook his head and exhaled slowly.
“Wes, you can’t blame yourself for this.”
Wesley hung his head and sighed. He was suddenly very tired. “It doesn’t matter right now. We have problems to solve. I need to get some things from the office, see if I can translate whatever it is that is written on Angel’s skin, see if Anna’s made any progress. I need to see Connor.” He stood and paced a little around the room. “Can you stay here and keep an eye on him? I shouldn’t be long, but I don’t really want to leave him alone either.”
Cordelia nodded a little hesitantly, standing and folding her arms. “What if he wakes up?”
Wesley looked at the door, listening for a moment. “He shouldn’t, but if he does, he’ll probably keep to himself. If you talk to him, be gentle and patient. He’s dealing with some pretty strong delusions. Whoever did this convinced him that he’d killed us all. It’s taking him some time to accept that we aren’t in his head.”
Cordelia nodded. “I can make some dinner. I brought groceries, and some stuff for Angel.”
Wesley was pulling on his jacket and reaching for his keys, but paused. “Don’t offer him anything until I get back. You could trigger a reaction.”
“Reaction?”
“A flashback followed by an outburst. Mostly its been sobbing and reverting to a catatonic state, but there’s been violence as well.”
“Got it, no blood for Angel.”
Wesley smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be back as quickly as I’m able.”
Chapters 5 & 6
