How to Date a Beautiful Woman (In Less than One Week)

by Melissa Flores

Teaser: Lorne has his hands full when three men who love three brunettes reveal three stories that meld surprisingly - and the three brunettes go missing.
Genre: Angel: The Series, Comedy/Romance/Action

Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Gunn/Fred, Wesley/Faith
Rating: R for sexual situations
Notes: Okay, I feel I had to make this clear. I wrote the majority of this story (i.e. the first twelve chapters) BEFORE Birthday and Provider aired. I can prove it. With um... friends? I just felt like I had to point that out.
Distribution: http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/mistiec
Spoilers: Speculation for Birthday. The one major difference? Cordelia was NOT changed to a half demon. This does NOT mean that she won't in this story line, just hasn't been changed YET. The only reason for this difference, is quite simply, I had NO idea they were going to do that, and my story was left, poor thing, with no half demon Cordy. Special Thanks to: Vanessa, and her beautiful beta reading abilities.

One more note: This registered at about 240 pages in it's completed form. Therefore I'll be posting chapters slowly, so as not to overwhelm. Thanks again.

--

Prologue - Lorne Explains It All

Krevlorneswath of the DeathWok Clan had a headache.

The demon's lime green skin seemed a little paler under the lights of the Hyperion - the dull color scheme did nothing for his complexion - and cheeks were sunken slightly, not making the shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep any prettier.

Taking in a sigh that went down to his beating heart, right in his left butt cheek, he rubbed fingers in hearty need of a good moisturizer through unruly hair, lingering to scratch slightly around the horns, alleviating the slightly annoying ache that had begun to emerge.

Irritation had given way to calm, passive, not quite so obvious anger, as the self proclaimed `Host' grabbed the kettle from the stove, keeping his mind purposely closed, ignoring the nagging nudges of the conflicted auras that surrounded him.

"Who wants coffee?" he asked, tone almost singsong, listening for two weary affirmatives and one firm no before pouring the freshly brewed liquid into three cups, setting them carefully on the tray he had managed to scrounge up from under the underused utensils of the hotel kitchen, before adding the sugar jar and cream ladle. He paused to tighten the rope that held his robe together before turning around.

The sight that greeted him was pathetic at best.

Hesitating, he took a minute to study the formerly stoic group of stalwart heroes, each leaning against the counter on stools, staring at him, or nothing in particular.

Charles Gunn, face smudged with dirt and forehead caked with dried blood, looked exhausted, eyes closed as he rested his chin against his hand. His shirt was hanging in rags from his muscular frame.

Wesley Wyndham Price's hair was shorter than it was a day ago, lightly gelled so that it rose into spiky tufts. The black tuxedo was also smudged with dirt, his white collar unbuttoned and bowtie hanging haphazardly in a rough fashion that seemed half James Bond, half Indiana Jones. His glasses, broken and dangling in two separate pieces, were in his fingers, being fussed with as he gazed at some very interesting spot on the counter.

And lastly, his royal badness - a Mr. `Geraldo' Angel - in what appeared to be khaki's and a white polo shirt - sat nearest to him, looking distinctly uncomfortable - and utterly miserable.

In his large and rather attractive hands he held a rather interesting looking... vibrator?

Lorne blew his breath out, shaking his head before coming forward, placing the tray on the table and letting each man reach for what he wanted.

It always had to happen at night.

Lorne wondered miserably if anyone ever had any respect for the Aura Reader's need for a good night's beauty rest.

"All right... I'm not going to even ask what's with the clothes, Angelcakes," he muttered, settling down on the other side of the counter, taking his own cup of hot, black liquid and sipping it, grimacing at the bitter taste.

Angel, broody vampire with a soul, looked down at the clothes he wore, and closed his eyes, shuddering. "I'm gonna just-"

"Sit your cute little butt down, is what you're going to do," Lorne said firmly, reaching forward to take the big dead arm and yank the body back down into the seat.

"But the baby -"

"Connor is just fine," Lorne snapped. "Asleep, fed, and dry, lucky devil. Better off than me, and MUCH better off than you bunch of sour pusses. I swear, I couldn't find a more pathetic bunch of lovesick hound dogs if I-"

"Hey," Wesley said, raising his head to sound out a miffed syllable. "I happen to believe we are much more than -"

"Forget it dog," Gunn mumbled, rubbing at his cut, grimacing at the caked scab. "We're pathetic. Time you faced it."

Lorne cocked an eyebrow, reaching for the package he had pulled from the freezer and handing it to Wesley. "Put that over the eye, buck-o, before you start to swell like a float on New Years."

The Ex-Watcher took the procured frozen steak and hissed slightly when it was placed it over the bruised area.

A little peace and quiet was all Lorne really wanted. It wasn't too much to ask, was it? Just a nice night's rest, complete with a pillow and a fluffy down comforter, maybe some nice erotic dreams involving one or two amply endowed co-workers, that was all. Despite what people might have thought, he wasn't at all high maintenance.

Not that he shouldn't have a right to be, he admitted. Considering that he, the Pylean with the colorful robe, was actually the only male in the room that seemed sane and amorously free, he judged himself lucky for that little fact - and mourned himself for being the only one to truly acknowledge that little fact.

Throw the green guy a bone, hmm?

Still, the curiosity was enough to push the morose self directed pity aside, questions were whirling in his head a mile a minute, and once again, Lorne cursed himself for taking on the role of `babysitter' while Angel Investigations continued their cases.

Being holed up in the nursery with Conner had been a pleasant enough way to pass the time, but he had missed out on some key developments, cases and incidents that had culminated in this - three men with equally pathetic expressions, auras just SCREAMING `help me' to Lorne.

Still - couldn't this have happened in the morning? At a very sane ten a.m. maybe?

"Okee-dokee," he began, mumbling through the hand smoothing down his face in a frustrated gesture of helplessness, watching as each man brooded on their own, "I think I've been good enough about not asking why each of you look like rejects of `Passions'. Who's first, hmm?"

At this question, Angel looked slightly alarmed, shifting in his seat before cocking his head. "What?"

"Yes, Angel," Wesley began testily, turning what seemed to be rather... angry eyes on the vampire.

Lorne sat up, eyes widening. Well...

"I would like an explanation for the position I found you in with -"

"Don't even, Wesley," The vampire growled back. "If it wasn't for you this damn thing wouldn't have even happened!"

"Hey, dude, don't you claw into Wesley," Gunn muttered.

"Thank you, Gunn."

"Not until I get a good fist into the bastard's face for doing what he did with my -"

Lorne's jaw dropped, sitting up at the sudden hostile turn the events had taken.

"WOAH! WOAH!" Gulping helplessly, Lorne waved emphatic arms in each of their faces, forcing the now standing men to turn their angry glares on him. "Can we turn the dial down on that testosterone? I'm getting a little queasy from it."

"Forget it," Angel growled, slamming his hands on the counters before pushing away, heading for the stairs.

"ANGEL." The vampire paused, and Lorne sighed, making sure the other two stayed put before rounding the counter and padding after the vampire in his fluffy, comfy, bunny shaped loafers. "I know Angst 'n Brood is big with you, but obviously it's not doing well for you right now." Taking one cotton swabbed arm, Lorne pulled back, muscles straining when the big strapping hunk of a hero didn't budge. "Uh... it helps if you move, Big Guy."

"I'm not sitting anywhere with him."

"Ditto on that, bro -" Gunn said, pushing up.

"Bloody hell - leave you pissy farts," Wesley growled, holding the steak to his black eye, attempting to look as furious as possible, "See if I bloody care -"

Once again the situation had gotten just completely out of control.

"Alright, STOP RIGHT THERE." When no one seemed to listen, Lorne closed his eyes, pushed down the anger, and finally just let out a belting, "THE HILLS ARE ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUUUUUUUUUUUUSICCCCCCCCCCCCCC!"

The rather nice rendition made them all freeze, Gunn's hands moving to cover his ears and Angel visibly flinching.

"That's right," Lorne said, grinning. "And I've got plenty more where that came from, so sit those tight butts down or I'll keep right on going with `My Favorite Things', and trust me, I can belt that sucker until my head bursts - and that's not much of a problem."

When Angel hesitated, Lorne began warningly, "Snowflakes that stay on your nose and eyelashes-"

"ANGEL, JUST SIDDOWN!" Gunn bellowed, burying his head into his folded arms.

"Fine, fine," the vampire growled, turning back and pulling the stool further away from Wesley, flopping into it.

Lorne sighed, hands on his hips as he viewed the three compatriots. "Look at you three. I'm ashamed, truly ashamed. You three are friends. Family."

"Dude, if you start with the `mother guilt trip' shit I'm gonna -"

"What? Shoot up my bar or blow it up? Oh wait. You already did that."

That was enough to clamp Gunn's mouth shut, and Wesley gave an uncomfortable little shuffle.

"That was cold," Gunn muttered.

Angel just closed his eyes, burying his head into his hands.

The Hyperion Hotel was haven to all different spectrums of auras, and Lorne had to admit, there were as many good times, maybe even more, than there were bad during his stay with Angel Investigations.

Things had been tumultuous, to say the least. What with Connor's rather surprising induction and the fact he seemed to be on every hit list in the area, and then of course - as if there wasn't enough time to breathe - Cordelia's own little visit from that strapping demon Skip and right on the heels of that came that little wild Child's unexplained release from prison -

Little things - okay big things- all managing to screw up the little work dynamic so much that they had resulted in this...

Three pathetically desperate men - one demon - and three brunettes that were now missing in action.

Pushing out a long breath and seriously considering announcing his candidacy for sainthood, Lorne reapproached the corner, mentally pondering how the Hotel Lobby could look with a little redecoration, before reaching for the filing cabinet, and taking out the heavy artillery.

"All right. Obviously, I've been missing out on a few things," the demon began, placing the shot glasses on the counter, pulling the Tequila bottle after them. "So, a little explanation is in order. I want to know exactly HOW you managed to send Cordelia to the hills," he handed the tequila bottle to Angel, nudging a glass toward him, "how you managed to fall into the bed with Miss Wild Child," he said, pointing a glare Wesley's direction, "And why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to shack up with a drunk Fred," he finished glaring at Charles Gunn.

All three men shot each other quizzical and surprised glances, and Lorne rolled his eyes for what had to be the forty second time. "Auras only tell me so much, amigos. So spill."

"I don't care how I got here, Lorne," Angel snapped, hands wrapping around the glass thoughtfully. "I just want you to tell me how to fix it."

"Ditto."

"Same here."

He had to have been stuck with the mostly insanely stupid men in the world.

"I can't tell you how to `fix' it," Lorne responded with an exasperated huff. "GOD! Dense is given new meaning by the three of you." Pausing, he spread his hands wide on the smooth counter, eyes meeting the faces of each warrior before shaking his head. Maybe he was taking too much for granted here. They were after all... men. That did tend to explain the look of utter blankness that ran rampant on each of their expressions. "Fine," he lied. "I'll tell you how to fix it if you tell me how you got here. Each of you. Starting with you, Angelcakes."

One green hand with immaculately manicured fingernails reached for the bottle, pouring the liquid into the glass, reaching for a lime sitting a few feet away in the fruit bowl.

Lorne had to admit, the curiosity was killing him. If only he had managed to get in touch with the girls. At least they would have spilled.

Angel immediately slammed the amber liquid down his throat, choking a bit before grabbing the lime, biting into it, foregoing the salt completely.

"It'll take a while," he said finally, voice twinged with husky regret.

He was afraid of that. Nodding, Lorne settled himself down, leaning forward. "Tell Auntie Lorne all about it."

"Can't I just sing?"

"Angel, just tell him before I stake your sorry ass."

"Please don't make him sing," came Wesley's plead.

Angel cast them both angry glares, but finally shrugged. "Fine. But why do I have to be first?"

"Angel," Lorne warned, "Quit stalling. People want to know."

Gunn and Wesley both swiveled their heads to watch the hunched over vampire in the scary white polo shirt.

Lorne licked his lips. "My guess this all started a week ago for each of you?" Surprised, hesitant nods were given by each man, and Lorne gave himself a proud smile. "Figured as much. Let's go, SugarLips, time to spill."

And when the vampire opened his mouth, Lorne closed his eyes, rubbing at his temple, trying to ignore the confliction, confusion, and lovesick anger that was coming off in waves from all three.

It was going to be a long night.

--

CHAPTER ONE - MONDAY MORNING

-- Monday - six days ago

When reality pulled her from the sweet serenity of sleep, it was gentle. Her breath fluttered, coming back to her when it was met with some unseen force, and Cordelia shifted slightly, freezing when she realized her body was not in her usual nocturnal position.

Eyes drifting open, she blinked, her cheek grating against colder, paler skin that seemed rougher...

Inhaling, she breathed in a familiar masculine scent, and the recognition brought a smile to her lips, as her fingers moved experimentally, drifting over fabric and skin, over a broad chest.

A chuckle coming from her companion made the chest underneath her seeking palm rumble slightly, and the smaller form settled between them gave a soft sigh.

"That tickles."

"Shhh." Cordelia grinned, readjusting her body so that Connor wasn't quite so smooshed between her and his big vampire daddy's lazy ass. "You'll wake the baby."

He had bed head, but his eyes were wide open, even as hers had to blink once or twice, orbs shrinking and adjusting to the darkness of the room. He had been awake for a while.

When she moved, his arms automatically tightened around her, restricting her, and the small action of possessiveness sent a warning signal through the recesses of Cordelia's brain, forcing her to smile tightly. "I fell asleep didn't I?"

"Looks like it." He had morning breath, his faces inches from hers, smiling at her with dark, luminous pools that held the strength of his ever weary soul. But his hand smoothed around her waist, gaze flickering down to the child nestled between them, and his forehead rested against hers, eyes closing in peaceful silence.

Cordelia swallowed, her heart skipping a beat, forcing her to push out her breath as the realization slipped over her body.

This wasn't exactly platonic.

"Angel..."

"Hmmm..."

She hesitated, unsure. His fingers lazily traced circles on her hips, skimming over the cotton, sending tingles over her skin, shuddering goosebumps up her forearms. He inhaled deeply, as that infernal hand now moved over her palm, tangling their fingers.

How had she ended up in here?

Cordelia didn't want to voice things that weren't true, but ... if she spoke now... was she rushing things? Making things up that weren't there? Was the glint in Angel's eyes imagined?

God... he had never held her like this.

"You're thinking too much."

"What?"

His lips curled into a sensuous smile, eyes still closed as he adjusted again, so his legs now tangled with hers, a squirming Connor the only thing keeping them apart.

"You're thinking too much," he repeated, fingers rubbing rhythmically against her in a slow, gentle dance. "Just...sleep."

Sleep. Right. Sleep with Angel. Uh-huh.

"I should get up and change the bab-"

"The baby's fine." His fingers tightened around her wrist, pulling her back down, and readjusting the child so Connor now settled on top of his non breathing chest, he spooned her into him, cheek rubbing against her forehead, as his arm wrapped around her waist. "Just... rest. You need it."

She was almost afraid to breathe as he inhaled again, in her hair, letting out another sigh of contentment before turning into her, burying his face in her shoulder.

Carefully, her heart beating a mile a second, heartbeats she was sure he could hear, she crept hands up a broad chest she had skimmed so many times, in training, in bandaging, never in an actual caress.

The action brought a beautiful smile to lips on a vampire that rarely showed such an expression, and it did something to her heart, making it tremble and ache inside her weary body.

What was it about this year that had changed things?

Her mind lingered on the departing words of Skip, words she had sworn to forget, to act as if they had never happened, words that she had assured Angel were not true...

Because here they were, in bed, with a child - not her child - but a beautiful child she loved, and carried, and cared for...

His child.

"Angel." Her tone was husky, unsure.

"Mmm." His eyelids fluttered, fighting the vestiges of sleep, the haziness of dreams.

"What are we doing?" The words were frank and honest, and it finally made his eyes drift open.

"Is it scaring you?" The tone was unsure, hesitant, the peace drifted from his eyes and she cursed herself for it. Angel rarely had peace.

But her mouth continued to ramble on about her stupid fears. "A little."

"Does it help, if I say it scares me too?"

That made the tip of her lips quirk, bringing up a grin that made him smirk back, before the child shifted and Cordelia's eyes left his to smile upon his son.

She put away the other fears, the other reservations. "Go to sleep Angel," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Just to make sure she wasn't lying, he curled both arms around her, letting her cradle the slumbering child in her own, eyes closing, seconds before the door burst open and both bodies swiveled to face the open doorway.

Wesley stood in the hallway, stalking through into the bedroom, fists clenched into balls.

"What the bloody hell is Faith doing here?"

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

Kate Lockley had never been one for female companionship. It wasn't that she wasn't... sociable, but growing up a pretty much self ordained tomboy, in an Academy class with men, in a male dominated work environment, with a male dominated father...

Not much time to catch up on girl talk.

Now, her fingers curling around a hot mug as she viewed the three females on the couch, Kate wondered how on earth she was going through get through this night. She had been anticipating a quiet evening. The latest novel on Oprah's book club was placed on her nightstand, her favorite throw was placed on her preferred spot on her beanbag, and the fire had been lit, casting comforting crackles and warm glows over her modest living room.

Instead she had been subject to pounding on the door that made the frame rattle, followed by slurs of what might have been a very botched job of her name, and a croon that sounded something like, "Oh, Miss LAYDEEEEEE MAAAAAM."

When she had turned the knob, pulled open the door, she almost flinched it back closed at the sight that befell her.

A strong hand blocked it from shutting again, and Kate closed her eyes, praying for strength before stepping back, letting the door swing open.

The dark-haired girl with the wild curls gave her a harried smile, and Kate immediately recognized her as a convicted killer and a very dangerous person. Her hand unconsciously went to the gun that was no longer on her hip.

"Hey," Faith said, her voice harried and a little frustrated, "Kate, right?"

"Hello, Laydee." That came from tall, thin girl with curly brown hair who was leaning back against Faith's shoulder, stumbling a bit.

"What's going on here?"

A brunette with honey blonde streaks, the most familiar face of all, finally straightened, wobbling slightly, teetering stopped only by Faith's arm snaked around her waist. "KATIE!"

They all reeked of alcohol.

"I'm sorry," the ex-con said, shrugging and looking truly apologetic as she shifted weight between the two women. "I really tried to get them home but they wouldn't go and Cordelia said she knew where you lived and -"

"Kate's BLONDE!" Cordelia had happily exclaimed, and Kate found herself stumbling back when Cordelia threw herself into her arms, forcing Kate to move away from the door, letting the other two step in.

"They're not big drinkers."

"No shit," Kate said, cupping Cordelia's face between her palms and studying the Seer's glazed eyes.

"It's okay," Cordelia said, sighing. "Blondie here can help us figure it out."

Now, twenty minutes later, she had managed to get two cups of coffee into the two drunk women and made sure she knew where her gun was in case the other one got too rowdy, but the dark haired vixen only sat back against the couch, hand absently stroking Cordelia's blonde streaked hair as the Seer lay her head in her lap.

Fred (apparently she really called herself that) was on the other side of the couch, dozing off.

From what she had managed to get out from the monosyllabic Faith, the rambling Fred and the still drunk Cordelia, was minimal. Something about a fight with Angel, Gunn and Wesley - apparently each one had managed to get paired up with one of them, though who with who was the confusing part - and Cordelia, in her infinite drunken wisdom, had decided to show up on HER doorstep because she was... BLONDE?

"I'm still not quite sure I know what's going on here," the ex-detective finally said, breathing out in an attempt to gain a little more patience.

"Don't look at me," Faith said, her eyes flashing slightly as she shifted under Cordelia, mouth pulling into a pout, body tightening at the thought. "Men are fucking bastards and I hope they rot."

"'Specially Angel," Cordelia managed from her half comatose state.

Kate cocked an eyebrow, and looked for an explanation from Fred, but the physicist, her sunflower dress streaked with just a little bit of blood, was only watching now, blinking.

"Okay." Kate pulled herself out of the armchair. "Do you want me to call somebody, a cab or something?"

Kate was half hoping they would say yes. She wasn't a fan of Angel's uppity Seer on a good day, but Cordelia, the killer she had put behind bars AND some rambling Rose?

Not exactly heartening, even for the most stoic and heroic.

"Nah. We just needed to crash for a while," Faith said, shrugging, eyes a mysterious dark brown as she shifted on the seat. "The only place to go back to is the Hotel or Cordelia's place and I really don't wanna be in either. Brings up some ... shit."

"WHAT shit?" Kate suddenly burst, hands coming up in exasperation. "And what the hell are you doing out of jail?"

"Duh. She got paroled." Cordelia sat up, rubbing at her eyes, swallowing and grimacing. "Augh. I smell like beer."

"Well you drank enough, Queen C."

"You did drink a lot, Cordelia," the little one that was the tallest, ironically, offered from her prone state on the other side.

"Shut up, Fred." Cordelia shifted back, and her eyes caught Kate's, finally widening. "Oh. Hi."

There was only so much Kate could take. "Tell me what the hell is going on, or I'm booting you out."

"Please. Like you could throw her out," Cordelia snapped, rubbing at her eyes. "And relax. I was drunk, totally didn't meant to crash the OH-so-jumpin' party."

Kate's jaw dropped slightly and the Slayer grinned, squeezing Cordelia's shoulder. "Uh... C? Not exactly winning points with the Ex-Cop Lady."

The blue eyes seemed startled, and finally Kate settled for the oxymoronic move of turning to the only coherent one for answers.

"What's happening?"

Faith looked at her, gaze locking for a bit, before the smirk faded and her shoulders shrugged. "In a nutshell? Men fucking suck."

--

Monday - The Hyperion Hotel

Curiosity had given him the first glance, a small look in the direction of the courtyard that had resulted in a longer look.

That action made him freeze, the old handkerchief he was using to dust off the books in his collection frozen in place, as his eyes squinted and he watched the scene unobserved.

In the courtyard, light flickering and birds chirping, she was laughing, leaning back and giggling, reaching forward and tapping lightly at the large chest in front of her.

Wesley frowned.

Placing the book down carefully, he moved around the desk, closer to the window, watching little actions that seemed innocent, added together that made Gunn's intentions, however unconscious, obvious.

The gaze that lingered too long on Fred's upturned face. The smile that grew into a silly grin when he made her laugh, the acorns he continued to juggle now going faster, as the large black muscular man encouraged her to throw another into the mix.

And beautiful little Fred, with her hair swaying, flowing behind her shoulders in the small breeze, leaning in a little too close as the dark hands of his friend carefully pushed strands back over her shoulder, bringing her in closer.

The tightening in Wesley's heart made the realization all that more painful, and Wesley, in a panic, almost stumbled into the doorway to join them in hopes of ruining the obvious intimate moment when the sound of a duffel bag landing on the floor made him turn.

"Bloody hell."

Casting curious eyes over the Hyperion Hotel, the form seemed all too familiar, complete with longer, dark brown hair and a smile that seemed almost a sneer. "Wes."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The words came without thinking, and they came out hard and harsh.

Wesley's fingers moved immediately to his arm, echoes of a scar still painted there, stepping back, and her eyes followed the action, the smile fading as she quickly looked away.

"Angel around?"

"What are you doing here, Faith?" he asked again.

Faith was silent, studying him with the same quiet intensity that he suspected she studied everything, from books to weapons. "I'm looking for Angel," she said again, her voice terse. "He here?"

His heart rattled against his chest, seemingly against his lungs making it impossible to breathe, and Wesley closed his eyes, sucking in his breath, the obvious agitation and uncertainty catching him by surprise as memories of this same lithe girl straddling him, sharp glass in her hand and eyes dark with wicked, perverse pleasure, flooded through him.

He shuddered, stepping back.

When he finally had the control to open his eyes, she was still in the same spot, almost glued to it, on her face an unreadable expression.

"I'm not sure how often Angel visits you," he clipped, voice steady and even despite the huskiness that he was unable to control, "but I'm the boss now. And anything you have to say can be said to me."

"Right. Cause you're sure giving me a fair and un-biased opinion," she drawled, eyes looking away as she looked down at her bag, crossing her arms. "Look. I just want to SEE him."

"You're not bloody going to until you tell me what you want."

"I thought I did," she said, clearly losing patience when her mouth tightened. "I want to SEE him."

"About?"

"How about the stick up your ass, Watcher?"

"Somethin' wrong, English?" Wesley dared not tear his eyes away from the Borne Again Slayer as Gunn and Fred stepped up behind him, the dark eyes moving over the young Slayer's body.

"Charles, Fred, meet Faith."

Faith smirked slightly, tossing up her head in mock greeting. "Hey. What's up."

"Ohhh... Isn't she good now?"

"That depends entirely on her definition of it."

The words made her flinch, visibly, but Wesley, his throat now clogged with unshed emotion, brought so easily to the surface in her presence, was beyond angry. Emotion he couldn't control - anger... hate... it came so easily with her.

And his eyes drifted to Fred, remembering a night that still haunted his dreams - when his anger had become everything.

"You know what? FUCK you, Watcher. Angel said I was welcome when I got out and I'm gonna see him with or with out your dorky little white hat blessing -"

"Angel said WHAT?"

Pulling out a wrinkled letter from her jean jacket lapel, she unwrapped it, waving it in his face. "Yeah. Bite me."

The sight brought another wave of anger to the surface, and it rumbled through his chest, up his throat, as his hands clenched and he ran for the stairs, not caring who followed him.

"ANGEL!"

--

Present Day - Hyperion Hotel

Lorne blinked, looking at Wesley with a slightly open mouth.

"Oh, here, honey, better replace the icepack on that eye before it swells up again."

Wesley reached for the pack gratefully, hissing when the ice jolted the tenderness of it.

Gunn smirked at the wounded Watcher.

"Gunn, feel free to kiss my behind," Wesley snapped, closing his eyes.

"Whatever, dude. I'm not the one beaten up by a girl."

"Faith is hardly an ordinary girl."

"That ain't the one I meant and you know it."

"Odd."

"What?" Angel asked the pondering Lorne. The demon pursed his lips, hands tangled into fists together as he blew out his breath.

"Where was I? Oh, wait. I remember," he added before anyone could remind him. "Looking at new places for Caritas." Waving a hand in the general direction of the three men, he motioned. "Carry on."

--

Monday - The Hyperion Hotel

It had taken Angel six full seconds to allow Wesley's angry question to float in.

He stared at him blankly, mind stubbornly not wanting to be pulled away from the serenity of the moment until the hearty little scream that came from his little guy made Cordelia move away, letting his hands slide from her body and onto the blanket.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"Faith," Wesley edged out again between ground teeth. "What the devil is she doing HERE?"

This time Cordelia absorbed the question, and in addition to Wesley's angry glare, he had another pair of startlingly clear hazel eyes beamed in his direction.

"Faith is HERE?"

"Now, Faith is HERE."

Angel pushed himself up, feeling slightly vulnerable and a little out of his element as the room suddenly became much more crowded.

Between Wesley's accusing glare and Cordelia's hurt expression that mimicked the look he had received when Darla had walked back into their lives, Angel really had no other place to look but the passive, slightly hopeful look on an unsure Faith's face, as she stood, half in the room, half out of it.

"Faith. Hey. You're out."

The four words seemed the most obvious in history, but Angel really had no idea what else to say, eyes darting back to Cordelia, who was cradling his now screaming son, swiveling her head between him and Faith - and this wasn't good.

"You invited her here?!"

Was that a trick question? Angel gulped, feeling suddenly very small on the bed, having everyone looking down on him.

"I... yes I did." Finally, his senses seemed to come back to him as he pushed off the mattress, rising to his full height, smiling his best `welcoming' smile to the parolee. "It's good to see you, Faith."

The act of kindness was enough to make the Slayer take another step into the room, grip loosening on her duffel bag as she came forward, giving him a familiar, friendly smile. "Was afraid you were gonna forget about me for a second there, Angel."

"Never."

"This is absolutely ridiculous, she can't stay here."

"ANGEL," Cordelia began, eyes wide and angry. "This is Faith!" Angel felt himself flinch underneath the anger in the words, said in a low and furious whisper, in a tone that would have been much louder had it not been for Cordelia carrying his son in her arms, rubbing at the child's back soothingly.

Faith's smile froze once again, and she stepped back towards the door. Angel frowned, his heart wrenching as he came forward, grabbing her bag. "You're welcome to stay -"

"Bloody hell - well THANK YOU for letting US KNOW -" Wesley snapped. "Let's all be a big happy family, shall we? Bloody forget all about torture and the little things -"

Cordelia's eyes only narrowed against the Slayer.

Angel felt his irritation take hold, keeping Faith behind him as he faced his two oldest friends. "Guys, I know this is a shock, but -"

"A SHOCK? Oh, you THINK?!" Cordelia snapped.

"You guys know about Faith -"

"She's a killer -"

"So was I!"

He felt the shifting behind him, could almost see the shrinking of self confidence in the once proud Slayer, and he held onto her hand, but it wasn't enough.

"Fuck this - I don't need this shit."

"FAITH -"

But she was already gone, pushing past Gunn and Fred in the doorway and storming down the stairs.

"Dayam. You know she's outta here," Gunn commented.

Angel growled, a frown directed toward the two friends as he whirled on them. "She's changed. You know that. She's changed and she's lost and she came to us for HELP. Because she thought maybe we were the ONE group of people who might have actually given her a CHANCE. That's what we're fighting for, RIGHT? Helping people? Who the hell are we to judge who deserves that second chance?"

The snap was full of anger, and Cordelia took a full step back, hazel eyes softening, looking down, blush in her cheeks inferring she was ashamed.

He didn't stop to see Wesley's reaction as he moved for the stairs, calling Faith's name as he moved.

Fred's eyes were wide as she looked from the group to the departing Angel.

"Guys, I think she was crying."

Gunn shuddered as Wesley groaned, burying hands in his face, sinking down onto the bed, Cordelia hiding her expression by pressing her cheek against Connor's bald little head and closing her eyes.

"Umm... not saying I'm not likin' the oh so obvious tension that doesn't involve us," Fred heard whispered into her ear, "But whaddya say we get out of here until they work the issues out?"

Not fond of tension of any kind, Fred was only too happy to follow Gunn down the stairs, casting sympathetic glances back toward the pair in Angel's bedroom, and nervous eyes toward the doorway, wondering all the while if Angel would catch up with the psychotic girl with the tears in her eyes.

--

Present Day - Kate's Apartment

"So I'm assuming that he DID catch up with her?" Kate asked, curling her legs underneath her as she regarded the soft shining eyes of Faith. "Considering you and Cordy there seem all sorts of chummy?"

Cordelia and Faith cast each other glances, the Seer apparently sobered enough to say softly, "A lot's happened since Monday."

Kate now found herself truly intrigued, her mind fluttering with possibilities of how exactly the Slayer, the Seer, and the crazy girl had ended up reeking of alcohol and who exactly had ended up with who -

It was obvious every one was nursing a broken heart.

"I don't..." she was hesitant. "There's three stories here."

"Actually one big one," Cordelia said, wiping hair out of her eyes as she took another sip of the coffee. "But lots of little subplots."

"Mine comes next," Fred added, pushing herself up with one elbow. Her expression was whimsical, and bittersweet, as all three women looked toward her curiously. "Cause what happened at the taco stand with Gunn - that's what really matters."

Kate's glance shifted between them, her voice questioning. "What does she -"

"Gunn is a big old idiot," Cordelia said frankly, Faith murmuring her agreement as she tossed a lock of dark hair behind her.

"Fuckin' idiot,' she muttered.

"Only an idiot would take Fred to his favorite taco stand, in his old hood, only months after turning on his old Gang of Self-professed Vampire Haters."

--

--

CHAPTER TWO

--

Monday Afternoon - Charles Gunn's Truck

"Where are we going?" Fred's voice lilted with a soft giggle, and Charles shot her a smile before motioning with a jerk of his head.

"It's just up this road here."

Fred narrowed her eyes, turning her gaze outside the window, watching as they passed a neighborhood that didn't look quite as nice as the one the Hyperion was situated in. She frowned, pushing the glasses further up her nose as she cocked her head, craning her neck to study the cement block wall with the graffiti scrawled over it.

It was a different neighborhood, with children playing in the street and men sitting on the corner with paper bags in their hands.

"Charles?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, Fred?"

"Where are we?" She turned to study his reaction to the question, but he only gave a carefully guarded shrug, waving a disinterested hand out of the window.

"This is my old hood, Fred."

"Oh."

"There's this place - dude at the corner named Felipe, makes the best damned tacos in the world." She couldn't help but smile at his excited voice, the way his fingers drummed on the steering wheel and the way his body seemed to move with some beat that only he could hear. She liked Gunn... liked the way he made the most out of the little things, like they were the most important things in the world. "You ain't lived unless you've tasted these tacos, Fred."

Fred just smiled and turned her gaze out of the window, grateful for Gunn's smile as her mind wandered back to the obvious hostility in the hotel. Wesley's betrayed face and Cordelia's horrified expression - and the new girl - Faith. With the deep dark eyes and the defensive posture...

In a way it reminded her of a dog she had met while she had volunteered at the shelter in Texas. Murphy, kicked and abused and brought in snarling and snapping at everyone, but Gerald, the trainer, had said that he was just tired and scared and full of hate cause that was all he knew. He didn't know how to love and just expected the worse in everyone.

Fred shuddered, crossing her arms. What a way to live.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Faith being a dog," she responded automatically.

Gunn did a double take, gaze lingering on her face, but only an amused smile curled on his lips and he chuckled. "Right. Here we are."

The truck pulled into the curb, ten feet away was what appeared to be a white shack, the smell of sizzling meat filling the air. Crowded around the stand were families, mostly Latino, rattling along in Spanish, hunched over warped wooden tables.

She frowned, slightly confused. "The best tacos in the world are here?"

"You bet your life." Opening the door, he hopped out, and shrugging, Fred followed, opening the door to find him already there, arms out to help her down.

Thanking him with a smile, she gazed at the crowded little stand nervously, unconsciously keeping her hand in his as he moved to the stand, eyes brightening at sight of the men working feverishly away, pounding at the meat while latin ranchero music played in the background from a boombox hung on a hook.

Moving to the front of the line, Gunn grinned, arms spread out. "FELIPE!"

The sweaty old man with the graying mustache looked up, and suddenly a grin flipped on his face. "CHARLIE! Como estas, muchacho!"

"Awwiiight," Gunn said, on his face a genuine grin as he clapped hands with the `chef' in a warm embrace.

Fred felt a smile alight on her face. She had rarely seen Gunn this amiable and open. It was fun.

"Y esta bonita quien es?"

Gunn looked startled, and then smiled back, wrapping an arm around Fred and bringing the nervous girl forward. "This here's Fred. Fred meet Felipe. Coolest dog out west."

"Encantada, seniorita," Felipe said, shaking the hand and grinning with such joy in his eyes Fred couldn't help but smile back.

"Hello."

"You come for the tacos, eh?" The voice was heavily accented, but it didn't detract from his charm. Fred nodded, a shy smile overtaking her features.

"Yo dog, I told her you made the best tacos ever, so you better not embarrass me."

"Cha! Go away, Freddie, come here," he motioned wildly, and Fred cast Gunn a hesitant look. When he grinned and nodded, she went forward, behind the stand, watching obediently as he began to explain in broken English why his tacos were so wonderfully made.

She frowned, honestly not seeing what was so special about two small corn tortillas and a big butcher knife hacking the things to pieces.

Charles Gunn couldn't help but smile at Fred's nervous posture easily giving way to a more relaxed stance, the smile genuine over her elfin face.

Turning away with a contended sigh, he began to pile a paper plate with necessary condiments, sliced limes and salt packets.

The hand clamping down on his back made him pause, and turning his body, he found himself face to face with Rondell, and about four other of his former boys.

Gunn's smile immediately froze, eyes jerking back to where Fred was still listening to Felipe, and turned back. "Hey."

Rondell wasn't smiling either. The young man's posture was tense, and Gunn gripped his plate closer to him, eying the truck.

"What are you doing here, dog?" Rondell asked, never one for tact or pret ension.

Gunn straightened to his full height, looking down on the brother who had leveled the machine gun at him only months before. "What a brother can't come down to get himself some tacos?"

"Not this brother," Rondell said tersely, cocking his head as he studied Gunn. "You ain't in this hood no more, dog."

Charles wanted to refute the claim, but as he opened his mouth to argue, his eyes caught the stony expressions on the faces of his other companions, and he had to swallow down the words. "Look, I'm leaving, I just wanted to show my friend -"

"Who? Crazy little white girl?"

The words brought a flash to Gunn's face, and the lips pulled down, eyes cold as he clenched his fists. "Hey. Don't you even start to go there."

Rondell's eyes weighed him down, brown orbs flickering over Charles', before finally glancing over to Fred. "Yeah. You would beat your homeboy down over some girl you barely know, wouldn't you?"

"Gunn?" Fred's form was hesitant, her voice soft and unsure as her brown eyes widened in recognition, hands clutching the foil wrapped tacos as her gaze shifted between him and his old gangmates.

"Fred, get in the truck."

The little physicist wouldn't listen, instead coming up beside him, forearm brushing his sweatshirt covered sleeve, leaning into him, as if giving support, or asking for it.

Without taking his eyes off of Rondell, Gunn's fingers crept over her palm and squeezed reassuringly.

"Come on, man. Don't start nothin' in front of ole' Felipe," he began tightly. "I don't got no beef witch you."

Rondell's lips twitched, and he shrugged. "You right. We ain't got nothing but love for Felipe." As if in affirmation, he pounded at his chest and nodded his head to the chef, who was watching them all suspiciously. "Yo, Felipe! How about some carne asada for me and the boys, huh?"

"Don't start no trouble, cabrons," He grumbled, but went to work. Rondell smiled.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He looked back to Gunn, and he crossed his arms. "You guys go get the tacos." The boys behind him obeyed, and when left alone, he cocked his head. "You still believe in your mission, bro?"

"You still have to ask?"

"Just wonderin'. Cause if I remember correctly you said you were only with the vampire cause of the mission."

"Yeah, I remember what I said, Rondell," Gunn snapped, his tone making Fred stiffen slightly, watching with baited breath.

Charles' chest was constricted, but he managed to show not a trace of the fear, hand still holding on to Fred in a conscious effort to keep her somewhat behind him.

"Hey, chill man. We cool. Sorta. We got's ourself a mission too, is all. Met our own little white boy do-gooder. Vampkiller with a soul." Rondell grinned, showing perfectly white teeth. The expression softened somewhat and he moved back. "Come on by around ten. Take a look. Maybe your little mission don't have to involve no vampire."

Even with Rondell out of Gunn's face, it did nothing to lessen the tension and obvious confliction on Gunn's face. Fred found herself hesitant to speak, Charles' grip on her hand tight to the point of pain.

"Charles?" He didn't hear her, lost in his own world of anger and memories and possibly regret. "Did you mean that? About Angel not being a friend?" Again there was no answer. "Charles?"

Finally the breaking at the edge of the word seemed to shake him out of his daze, because he turned and seemed to finally see her, and shook himself, taking her hand and pulling her in the direction of the truck.

"Let's go."

--

Present Day - Kate's apartment

Kate was silent, lost in contemplation as Fred paused, sipping some of the coffee.

Immediately the former grad student blanched, putting it back. "Cold," she explained to Cordelia and Faith.

"What was the street, you remember?" Kate prodded.

Fred shook her head slowly no. "Somewhere downtown, I think."

Kate pursed her lips again, biting down, forcing herself not to ask the questions she wanted to, about the names and streets and districts, her mind clicking away at the different groups running downtown.

She wasn't a cop anymore. It wasn't her business.

Rubbing a tired palm into her eye, she finally muttered with a husky sigh, "Okay. So..."

"So... that was intense," Fred said, nodding, mouth pulling into a frown.

Cordelia didn't say a word, but closed her eyes burrowing in deeper into Faith's shoulder. "Sorry, Fred. We should have been paying attention."

"Well ya'll had your own problems," she answered, picking at a bloody stain on her dress.

"Exactly what were they?" Kate asked, sitting up. "'Cause all I'm seeing now is a serious questioning of sexual preference."

Cordelia and Faith froze, before glancing at each other and scooting away. "Oh, please," Cordelia answered. "We just came to an understanding."

Faith smirked, rolling her eyes. "Yeah. Don't fuck with Cordelia."

--

Monday Afternoon - The Hyperion Hotel

Faith was halfway out of the door when a strong, cool hand tugged her back, nearly sending her sprawling back into the lobby.

"Don't leave."

Regaining her balance easily, she jerked her hand away from Angel's cool grasp, wiping at the damned moisture in her eyes before spitting, "Hey! Not like your cronies really want me around -"

"They'll deal."

"Deal." With a chortle and a huff, Faith looked back up toward the stairs, crossing her arms as her breath came out in constricted breaths. "That's great for a pleasant living environment."

"Give them time, Faith."

"Fuck, Angel, you know why they won't accept me - hell I don't even know why I - I just... look. They got a point, alright?" She shrugged, biting on her lower lip in an effort to contain herself long enough to get her voice even again. "The last time I saw Cordelia she wound up with my fist in her face and I don't even want to BEGIN with Wes -"

"Faith the pity party isn't going to help." The foreign voice interjected into the conversation made the Slayer pause, turning her head to view the lone figure at the top of the stairs. Cordelia's face was passive, low and firm despite that. "Don't run off, because it's daylight out and Angel can't follow in the daylight. Just come upstairs. I need to talk to you."

For some reason, that seemed about as fun as having that third tattoo done on her - well... it wasn't a party, that was ...

Faith turned back to Angel, but he was looking at Cordelia, and the stars in his eyes were enough for Faith to look again, trying to see just what Vampire Broody saw.

But there was still only the May Queen Cordy, with the stone cold gaze, holding the kid and gazing at her evenly. "I don't have all day, Faith."

The patronizing tone wasn't lost on Faith. The swell of irritation that moved through her was enough to make her fists clench, and alarmed, she looked down, pushing them into her pockets. "Doesn't really get I'm the Slayer, does she?"

"Oh, she gets it." Angel's tone was light, almost amused, and again Faith did a double check. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? His cool grasp tightened on her elbow, and she heard whispered in her ear, "Faith. Cordelia knew me when I was a killer. She was a first hand witness to everything I did to Buffy, to Giles - I attacked her more than once. But she's standing at the top of the stairs, holding my son - and she calls me her best friend. She's not perfect - but she understands."

There was nothing else he needed to say. Faith took in a hesitant breath, and nodded, indicating she understood.

Queen C was the one to talk to then.

Once she began to walk up the stairs, Cordelia turned, walking into one of the rooms, and when Faith followed, she found the Seer standing next to a crib, the child now quiet in her arms.

Unsure of the silence, Faith crossed her arms for lack of anything better to do, and began to fidget, casting eyes over the room. Cordelia turned, hazel eyes impossible to read in the darkened shadows of Angel's room.

Faith's sense of perception had been a little delayed, what with the screaming and accusing and you know... the guilt, but they kicked in now. The rumpled sheets, Queen C's bed hair, the crib -

What the hell had happened since she got put in the cell?

"So... Angel's got a kid huh? That's just wild."

Funny. Back in high school Faith didn't think much of the Queen C, and knew for a fact that Cordy didn't think much of her. But different time, different place-

And people changed. Faith could accept that. She had to.

Cordelia just gave her an even stare, and finally just nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Before we commence with stupid pointless `I don't know what to say because I can't stand silence' small talk I think we should come to an understanding."

Faith's eyes averted slightly, jolted up from viewing Connor as Cordelia came closer. "Okay."

"I'll tell you where I come from and you can tell me where you come from."

"Fine," Faith agreed evenly.

"Good." Cordelia nodded, her voice low and firm and damn Faith wished she would just scream already. This new calm, collected Cordy was frazzling her nerves. "All right. Now, I think it's understood that no one has exactly forgotten about the little ditty that happened in Sunnydale, but I figure if Angel can forgive you for trying to kill him then who am I to judge? This is Angel's hotel, and I respect it. And that's all I care about. Respect. Respect me and I'll respect you."

Respect. Wasn't that what it was all about in the pen? Who had the respect. Who had the power.

"I can deal with that." Her eyes once again flickered to Connor. Her mouth flickered into an unconscious smile. "He's got Angel's brow."

"Yeah. A serious cro-mag thing going," Cordelia said, affection dancing in her eyes as she rocked the baby.

Faith swallowed, eyes roving back to the hallway. "So Queen C... about Angel..."

"Faith, if I were you I'd get your eyes off Angel and concentrate instead on making this a more pleasant working environment for you, starting mainly with Wesley."

Faith's heart lurched at the mention of her ex-Watcher's name, she gulped down the emotion, only to have it settle heavily in her stomach.

"He's in his office. That's a hint," Cordelia added, just to make sure she got the point.

Faith got the feeling she was dismissed, and unused to being ordering around by one of Sunnydale's nearest and dearest, she shoved fists into the pocket of her coat and couldn't resist, "Get yourself a shower, C. You look like shit."

Cordelia rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to retort when she paused, and instead came out with, "Faith, grab Connor."

The Slayer paused in the doorway, uncertain. "Huh? You want me to-"

"GRAB HIM! NO - OH MY GOD!?" And Cordelia fell into spasms.

Faith ran as quickly as she could, pulling the baby out of Cordelia's embrace seconds before Cordelia slammed into the floor, writhing in pain.

"What the fuck?" she whispered breathlessly.

The myriad of emotions forced an almost nausea inducing response in the pit of Faith's stomach. The child was held in her hands by pure unconscious thought, as the Slayer looked down upon Cordelia.

Tears were streaming from her face and her hands gripped the side of her head as if it were splitting.

"Cordelia?!" She knelt down, trying to alleviate the screams, but the Seer only pushed her off, sobbing and crying and SHIT this was more than she could handle -

The pain... there had to be a way to make the -

"ANGEL!"

Seconds after the words left Faith's parched mouth the vampire burst into the room, very nearly taking the door with him.

"Cordy!"

Cordelia was unseeing, eyes shut closed as she curled into a ball, hands gripping her temples almost painfully.

The sight of pure and utter agony made Faith's heart jolt, and her throat suddenly parched without warning, something she realized when she attempted to speak to the vampire.

"I.. What's -"

"Vision." Wesley was the one that answered her, as he moved from behind her to kneel down beside Cordelia.

Angel's face was constricted, one of painful worry and intense sorrow as

he wrapped his arms around the flailing seer, curling her into his broad chest.

Once again, Faith could do nothing but hold the damned baby.

Feverish pains were moving over Cordelia's body, her teeth were chattering. When her eyes finally opened, the dark, glazed orbs were blurred with tears.

"Cordelia."

She flinched, as if suddenly pulled into the present.

Angel's thumbs stroked her cheeks, brushing away the tears, holding her closer as her eyes closed and she began to shudder visibly.

Faith was utterly still, holding the child in an awkward position as her eyes locked into the scene that she felt she was almost invading. The cheerleader, little Queen C who ruled Sunnydale High with her thumb, crumpled against Angel's chest, and began to sob; huge wracking wails that twisted something in Faith's heart and seared her to her very soul.

"Cordelia, what is it, what did you see?" Faith almost glared at Wesley's intrusiveness, but Cordelia immediately sucked in her breath, letting it out in a ragged gasp.

Her voice was strained, hoarse with tears. "I... Santa Monica - the Promenade. Demon... attacking - oh God..." She gave a whimper and her eyes closed again, as she shook her head, eyes clenched closed, trying to give an accurate description. "There's a kid. She's lost... he's gonna eat the kid -"

"Angel." Wesley was on his feet.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Faith's head whipped to Angel's form, but he gave neither of them a glance as he gently pulled Cordelia to his chest, standing and moving to the bed. "Angel..."

"Look at her, Wes!"

Cordelia was again lost to the world, tears streaming from her eyes, as she tried to ball herself up, almost an unseen attempt to push everything out of her head.

Unsure of what exactly she was supposed to do, Faith took a step back, keeping Conner clutched to her, trying to dimly remember the whole `like a football' routine in an effort to stay out of the intense situation.

Wesley's form was tall and he looked conflicted but she could tell that he was running the situation through in his damned large head. "Angel, the vision was given to her for a reason -"

"Yeah, and it's killing her," Angel damn near growled, kneeling beside the bed, rubbing Cordelia's palms between his hands and holding them desperately to his mouth.

Killing her? Faith blinked, trying to comprehend what Angel meant by that as she licked her lips.

"Why the hell are we going to listen when they -"

"I'll go."

The words came so surprisingly that even Faith had to look around to make sure she was the one that said it.

Shock flitted over her senses and she shuffled her feet, fully intending to take it back before Angel looked at her with something that resembled hope.

And there were tears in his eyes.

"I'll go," she said again, louder, tone uneven, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of her own sincerity. "I can do that. Kill the kid, save the monster - wait." She blinked, swallowed at the nervous bumbling and, began again slower this time, "Kill the monster, save the kid. Got it."

Wesley's jaw clenched, but Angel, his hands still gripping a near comatose Cordelia's fingers, just stared at her.

She gave him a shrug, but the look on her face seemed sincere. "Hey," she mumbled with a nervous chuckle. "Gotta start somewhere, right?"

It was the smile that did it. Angel's mouth pulled down at the sides, and his eyes met with Wes's, and suddenly he had dismissed them all, turning back to the Queen C. "Go. Wesley, go with her."

"Angel -"

"Just GO."

Wesley's jaw clamped shut, but he was done arguing. Faith turned to the doorway, and then paused, turning back.

"Wait. What do I do with the kid?" she asked.

"Fred." The weak voice belonged to Cordelia. "Just... she's better with him than anyone -"

"She's not here." Wesley came forward, and avoiding Faith's own intense, unsure stare, he carefully moved the child away from her, gentleness in his hands that seemed foreign to her as his fingers absently stroked over hers. Pressing his lips to the crown of Connor's head in a distracted kiss, he placed the child in the crib, and then turned his now familiar stony gaze on the Slayer.

The tension in his body mimicked a language she understood, had come to speak fluently in the pen.

The bastard didn't trust her. Big fucking surprise.

Turning her eyes away from the delicate scene on the bed, Faith instead offered Wesley a sneer. "Thought you were the big boss, Wes."

"Piss off," came his mumbled, angry reply, and there was just enough bite behind that to make her smile as jogged down the stairs.

--

Present Day - the Hyperion

Lorne took in a breath, left butt cheek constricting slightly as the room grew quiet.

Cordelia's visions. Poor little chickadee. They were getting worse every time.

Lorne closed his eyes and silently beseeched whomever was listening to fix what was happening to the ailing Seer. He knew the kid, and he knew the Vampire - and he knew that sometimes the only thing keeping the big guy fighting was the pair of hazel eyes that could melt a heart and flood a soul with hope.

Angel's own face was taught, eyes glazed and moist as his hands fidgeted again, and suddenly the vampire yelped when the contraption in his arms began to have a life of it's own.

Clattering to the counter when Angel jumped away, the thing began to buzz and thump against the counter.

Charles leaned over, calmly switching the thing off, moving past a startled Wesley before grabbing a napkin and wiping at his fingers.

Wesley looked curious, picking it up.

"Yo. You wanna tell me what the hell you're doing with a vibrator in the first place?"

"Is that what that is?!" Angel asked, and Wesley immediately let out a soft gasp, dropping it back onto the counter, where the button was pushed and the thing started up all over again.

"A vibrator?!"

"It's not mine," Angel said hastily. "Cordelia -"

"That's CORDELIA'S?!"

"NO -" Angel looked flustered, but no one was ready to touch the thing, and so it continued to move.

"That's not Cordelia that's - that's FAITH'S?!" Wesley said, jerking his head back to said contraption. "What the hell are you doing with Faith's vibrator?"

Gunn gave them both a confused smile. "So Cordy somehow `magically' got her hands on FAITH's vibrator? Well, well..." Gunn looked verily amused as he leaned back with a self-satisfied smile. "Looks like you dog's ain't exactly takin' care of business, now are ya?"

"Gunn -"

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Grabbing a towel, Lorne grabbed the contraption and switched it off, tossing it into the nearby sink. "The vibrator doesn't matter. What happened after the vision?"

Angel, Gunn and Wesley all exchanged looks, as Gunn clasped his hands together and let out his breath.

"Fred and I came home."

--

Monday Afternoon - Charles Gunn's Truck

"You're going to go tonight, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, and Gunn therefore, didn't answer as he swallowed down a retort and kept his eyes on the road.

Thanks to the wonders of peripheral vision, he could see the slender girl as she shifted in her seat, the peaceful expression that had been on her face now changed to one of unease, fingers tangling with each other in her lap in nervous agitation.

He winced. He hated that expression on her. Late one night he had dreamed of that smile, and in the nightmare that had followed he had seen her scream.

Gulping down the emotion, he tightened his hands around the steering wheel, letting out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Fred. I shouldn't have -"

"It's alright, Charles," she interrupted quietly, her eyes searching for something he couldn't seem to see outside the window. "The tacos were good, anyway."

The little statement made the tension a little easier to bear, and he let a low, smooth chuckle out of his voice. "Told you they was good."

"Mmm."

They descended into silence, pulling to a stop in front of a red light. The truck, old, but still Charles' pride and joy, built by his hands and sometimes cleaned by his late sister, creaked and rattled a little bit, engine tickering away, the only sound inside the cab.

"Charles."

The voice was lilting, soft emotion making him turn his head to lock gazes with the beautiful woman.

Her eyes were clouded behind the glasses, making the color in the fading light almost impossible to tell.

"Don't go."

Her words were a soft plead, a small voice that seared into his heart, and it brought a lump to his throat, hard and painful.

And in that moment, there was nothing but Fred's eyes, staring at him so openly.

The honk that blared behind him broke the stare, and coughing to cover the stinging in his eyes, he jerked the clutch and turned his attention back to the street, where it belonged.

--

Monday - The Hyperion Hotel

The pain had receded only somewhat, and the aching stabs that still were prevalent in her brain, splintering over her entire body, gave her no reason to move.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, but she felt the fingers that were clenched in hers, so tightly that her circulation was at times blocked.

In an effort to ease the tingles in her fingertips, she shifted her hand away, moving her body closer and found, to her relief, that the grip loosened as the vampire gently picked her torso up, lifting and sliding under so suddenly she had his lap as her chair, her head leaning against a very masculine chest, and his cheek rubbing against her temple as his lips brushed her ear.

Again, the intimacy of the situation pierced her already foggy mind enough to allow her to flutter her eyes open, but in her pain, she ignored the prickles of warning. Instead she pressed her lips against the hands that were wrapped around her shoulders and latched on to a very different, very damning thought.

"Angel."

"Hmm?"

She licked her lips, trying to get some feeling back into her mouth as she swallowed around the words. "I was holding Connor when the vision came."

He was quiet, and she wished for a second that he was human, so she could hear a gasp or a change of breathing or anything that would hint to what she knew that meant.

But she felt nothing but his strong, reassuring embrace. "I saw Faith with him."

"I told her to take him." His arms tightened around her when her voice broke, and still, he didn't say anything. With an indrawn breath, trying to take a moment to force the coherence through her pain, she began again. "I... don't think I should be holding Connor anymore. I mean... Fred's better with him and -"

"Cordelia." His voice was low, she could feel his lips moving alongside her ear, sending tingles that made her close her eyes. She only cried after the visions, and for so long she had tried to hide it, until she couldn't hide it anymore. And now she hated herself for the weakness, for the tears that made him hold her like this.

It was too painful to have him hold with such tenderness.

"Cordelia, you were able to hand Connor over before anything happened. The Powers that Be are protecting the child -"

"Yeah! By sitting on their fat butts and doing nothing! Angel," her voice was pleading, as she craned her head back to view him with dark hazel pools of sadness. "We can't trust them. You said so yourself - we're losing faith in -"

"I'm not losing faith in you."

She closed her eyes, shuddering against the words, the tears leaking out staining her cheek, making the pain that much more real. "I don't think I should be holding him or... taking care of him... anymore... I can't have that pressure, and it'll be okay - because Fred does the bedtime stories and the crazy singing anyway - and Gunn can change his diaper faster than anyone and you've seen Wes already trying to teach him to read - he shouldn't have that -"

"Cordy, don't." The words were firm, as his palm slipped about her waist until his thumbs barely skimmed the bottom swell of her breasts, his face burying in his neck, holding her as if she were some lifeline. "Don't say another word."

"Angel -"

"No."

She swallowed, but her fingers crept up and buried into the nape of his neck, feeling the soft silk of his hair, and her eyes closed and she just let it be.

For now.

It seemed, with the aching splintering that threatened her sanity, now was all she had.

--

Present Day - Kate's apartment

Cordelia was staring numbly at her coffee cup, swirling the liquid around with a twirl of her hands, ignoring the looks the three women gave her. She refused to see pity or feel anything other than the blankness that had taken over her senses.

Closing her eyes, she gave a long, ragged sigh.

Kate was still, her eyes strangely stinging, and her cup went down and her hand came forward. "Cordelia -"

"Hey, if you wanna hear about mounting sexual tension, let's discuss Faith's little slay-o-rama," Cordelia quipped, eyes opening and unexpectedly bright as she shrugged her shoulders. Her head whipped to Faith and the Slayer looked a little startled at the change in tone.

"Huh?"

"Well this thin line between love and hate had to start somewhere, didn't it? All that hostility and the hungry horny Faith never did quite shake that randiness."

"Cordelia!" Fred sounded horrified, her voice a fierce whisper, but Faith, who kept her eyes glued to Cordelia's, immediately just sat up.

"Yeah, sure, let's talk about me," she said hastily, arms waving in Kate and Fred's faces until they were looking at her, away from Cordelia.

Kate was silent, not easily swayed, and her blue eyes shifted once more to Cordelia's prone form.

"It's a damned doozy," Faith insisted. "Full of lewd suggestive arguments and like... sexual standoffs."

Fred said nothing, but Kate, to her credit, decided to play along, finally giving Faith her full attention.

"So what is going on with Wesley?"

--

Monday - Santa Monica

She walked with purpose in her step. Her hands were swinging loosely at her side, and her pelvis swayed from side to side, as if to some hidden beat.

There was sensuality in Faith's figure as she turned in the darkness of night, the sun's setting rays casting hues on the highlights that tumbled freely with the rest of the waves of the Slayer's long locks.

In her smile was a hint of her devilish nature, in the perfectly pouted lips that twirled up into a grin, moving with that skip.

Leather pants that molded to her hips perfectly, denim jacket that was short and tight, riding up when she walked so that fair, pale skin showed, muscles rippling with the power and femininity of a Slayer.

He had forgotten the hidden essence of a Slayer. He had almost forgotten the danger, and he cursed himself for it, as he continued to walk behind her, knuckles a little swollen but no worse for the wear.

Inside the male dominated Angel Investigations, Wesley had become used to protecting the females, moving in front to counter the attacks, draw the attack away from a nervous Fred and a less agile fighter that was Cordelia.

Granted, they were able to hold their own, but that was all they did. There was no need, when even Wesley, the poorest fighter of the three men, was able to keep the attack on him.

Instincts had been severely thwarted when the hand on his shoulder had swung him around, tossing him with the strength of an ox that resulted in him plowing into the child, inadvertently taking them out of the fight.

Gaining his breath, holding himself above the child, he had twisted his body to see the smile on Faith's face as she almost danced onto a nearby set of balcony steps, grabbing hold and swinging back, her foot crashing into the demon's face, forcing him to stumble back.

Two seconds later she had wrapped those strong thighs around the large neck, manipulating with incredibly agile feet before jerking.

A very audible snap was heard, and just like that, the demon slumped to the ground. There was no more fight from the animal.

Almost afraid to look at the smile on Faith's face, too reminiscent of violent years still gone unchecked, Wesley instead turned to the child. Helping the little dark skinned girl up, he took her by the hand, leading her away.

Faith caught up to him around the corner, slightly out of breath but barely perspiring, pausing when he handed the child to the mother, who hugged and kissed the child profusely, thanking Wesley for finding her.

"You're quite welcome," Wesley had answered pleasantly, smile lingering until the woman passed out of sight.

His hard gaze retuned then, as the two were left alone, and the smile that had previously been wide on Faith's face diminished slightly as she swallowed at the accusing look.

But true to her nature, never allowed to be beat down, the Slayer squared her shoulders and tossed the dark locks behind her, a dark grin on the dark face.

"So, Watcher? What now?"

He stiffened, sucking in his breath before turning back to her. "Don't ever call me that," he snapped. "I'm not a Watcher now. You more than saw to that."

She paused, the smile faltering slightly. "Thought you took care of that on your own, baby."

"Faith," he began, his tone nothing but warning. Blithely he wondered exactly what he was threatening against. Faith could take his life in two seconds, but the need for power, the need to believe he had some control, was all he had left. And for some reason, it worked somewhat, because Faith's jaw tightened and she said nothing else. "Now we go home."

She dug her hands in her pocket and halfway down the block she paused, steps faltering in the doorway of what appeared to be a club.

Wesley stepped into place next to her, gaze shifting from the club to her upturned face. "What is it?"

"You think they got a payphone in there?" she asked, her voice husky, edged with something else, post fight excitement, perhaps? "I need to call my parole officer."

"You can do that when we get home," he answered, crossing his arms.

Long fingers ran through the dark hair, a pink tongue darted out and licked her lips, adding moisture to them as she cocked her head. "I gotta call before six." She reached for Wesley's hand, but he flinched, jerking back. She caught the movement, and when he stepped back, something in her eyes dimmed, and then burst into a flash. "FUCK, Wesley. I was just going to point out the time."

He narrowed his eyes, and keeping his orbs pinned on hers, he reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his cellphone. "Call right here."

She pursed her lips, quiet for a moment, gaze flickering between the phone and his eyes. "Whatsa' matter, Wes? Don't trust me?"

"To be perfectly frank, not in the slightest," he answered, never moving, tone never changing. "Angel and Cordelia may not question why you were suddenly released from a life sentence, but you can bet I'm looking into it, Faith. And I WILL find your true intentions."

"You think I'm hiding something."

"I know you are."

Faith had a remarkable gift for hiding her emotions behind anger and resentment, but Wesley had finished being apologetic at the insecurity in the girl the second her knife had drawn across his skin. He ignored the tick on her jaw, even as he was close enough to see the glint in her eye and the hurt tremble of her lower lip. He ignored it all because he realized he had no idea who Faith was anymore.

Perhaps he never knew.

But he would never mistake her for what he thought she wasn't capable of. Not when he knew the darkness that rested in every heart, himself included.

Evil festered in hearts and left untreated, it ran rampant.

Faith's rage could not have been pacified in prison, and lost soul or not - Wesley had no qualms about ignoring the pretty face in favor of his friends safety.

And true to her nature, she surprised him. There was no outburst, no flinch, but a simple slow, lazy smile that spread across the bee stung lips, before she stepped backwards, tossing her arms wide in perfect invitation to her entire body.

"Pry away, Wesley. I've got nothing but intentions. Those are my only secrets left. If you can get to them, they deserve to be found out. I need a drink."

She turned, stepping down the stairs and under the awning, into the bar.

With a sigh and a tense body, coiled with tension, curiosity and a searing warmth in his stomach and abdomen, Wesley followed.

--

Present - the Hyperion

"Now I'm curious, Wesley," Lorne said, taking a toffee crunch chocolate covered pistachio - his addition to the lobby, thank you very much - and popping it into his mouth, chewing as he contemplated on the scene. "Did you ever find out Faith's true intentions?"

"Certainly." Wesley looked up from his shot of whisky and said in the same, matter-of-fact voice, "Faith had been released to kidnap and or kill Connor."

--

--

Chapter Three

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

"She WHAT?!"

Angel's outburst, volatile and angry, took Charles by surprise. Whipping his head around from Wesley's form to Angel's, his hands automatically clenched into fists.

The British man in the dusty tuxedo barely gave them any attention, however. Instead, his eyes were on the counter, centered on the watch he had dug out of his pocket earlier.

"Angel," he began heavily.

"You knew this and you didn't tell me?!"

"It wasn't my place to tell."

"Wasn't your place?" Lorne snapped. The poor little guy, having demons and lawyers after him. The last thing they needed was the whacked out Slayer coming after him as well.

"Naww, of course it wasn't his place," Gunn said, more irritated than he wanted to admit, as his breath hitched at the thought of the child in danger. "'Cause he was too busy shacking up -"

Wesley's hand at his throat cut off the rest of the angry sentence. The taller man was too startled to fight back when he was pulled off his chair and swung into the counter with a jolt hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Don't you dare," Wesley hissed, his words barely audible, but full of meaning. "It was never like that."

Angel grabbed the former Watcher by his elbow, swinging him around to face him. "Wesley, if Connor is in danger-"

"He's not in danger," Wesley responded, shaking off the vampire. "Has she done anything to endanger the child?"

"She -"

"HAS she?" Wesley repeated, his tone hard.

Angel swallowed, but slowly shook his head 'no'.

Shrugging off his jacket, Wesley slumped back into the stool, his expression telltale in the eyes; dark and stormy. "You don't know the whole story, Angel. Connor is in no danger. I suggest you refrain from comments, ALL OF YOU, until you hear the whole thing."

Charles took a moment to recover, straightening his jacket before looking at his best friend shakily, nodding slightly. "Yeah. I can dig that."

Lorne blew out his breath, digging fingers in his hair. "You boys are nearly giving me a heart attack. If I get gray hairs in my beautifully conditioned mane, you can bet you're footing the bill."

Charles was quiet for a moment. "This whole not taking things wrong or judging them until you get the whole story? Goes for me too, alright?" His glance was meant more for Wesley than any one else. "'Cause what's gonna come next isn't gonna make you guys like me much."

--

Monday Evening - The Hyperion Hotel

Fred was never one for secrets. She tended to babble, vent slightly and at times her rambling would result in a glazed look in Cordelia's eyes. But she said what she thought, at times before she even thought it - the sentences tumbling out as her mind worked them, hitching over words too fast for her lips.

She wasn't sure if it was the re-introduction to the world, or perhaps if it had anything to do with the very real confliction inside of her, but her mouth remained shut as she walked into the Hyperion.

Charles Gunn moved past her, not giving her another glance as he settled down at the counter and pulled out the Gameboy he was completely fascinated with.

She stood, hesitantly, foot turning on her ankle in contemplation. She watched him, knowing he knew and also understanding he needed to pretend she didn't exist right now.

What she felt was confusing and disheartening. She would have been lying if she said she had forgotten about that night at the club. The fear had nearly paralyzed her, her heart hammering a chasm in her chest as she remembered the screams, the blood.

She also remembered, cuddled in Wesley's strong, firm embrace, Gunn's face. Features near tears as his voice cracked, pleading with the angry young man holding the gun in an effort to convince him to let them go.

There was no easy way out, nothing she could say to try and understand. Because the truth was - she didn't.

There was fear and, for the first time in a long while, nervous agitation. Gunn was large and strong. She felt protected with him. She never imagined that she'd be thinking of ways to protect him from his own inner conflict.

Sounds at the top of the stairs drew her attention to Angel and Cordelia. The pair moved slowly, talking in low whispers, and Angel's hands were firmly planted on Cordelia's shoulders as she walked, looking almost as if she was having trouble with her footing.

"Guys?"

This time Gunn also looked up, joining her in waiting until Cordelia had made it to the stairs as Angel regarded them both, large eyes sad and expressive.

"Cordelia had a vision," he explained. "I'm taking her home."

"A vision?" Charles asked, his voice tight. "Anything we need to -"

"Faith took care of it," he responded shortly. "Lorne's watching the baby, so you guys are free tonight. I'll see you later."

Cordelia shot them both a tight smile, but that was all, as she moved around Fred and to the lobby entrance.

Fred tangled her fingers into nervous fists, and again her habit took form as she blurted out, "Angel?"

Charles sucked in his breath, chocolate brown eyes catching hers as the vampire turned.

She swallowed, and in a move that took her by surprise, responded with a slightly embarrassed shrug. "Nothing."

Angel was quiet, but finally just nodded back and walked out the door with Cordelia.

--

Present - Kate's apartment

"You didn't tell them?" Kate asked.

Fred blushed slightly, fingers curving through dark locks as she hesitated in her answer. "Well... like I said, everyone had their own problems. And the look on Gunn's face was... he didn't want me to tell. I've never been a tattle tale, never in my life."

"It was partly our fault," Cordelia responded. "What with Faith making her entrance and the vision and the baby - Angel tends to get a little obsessive -"

"A little?" Faith snorted, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she readjusted herself on the couch. She put her feet up on the coffee table only to have them shoved off again by Kate. After giving Kate a mock glare, she turned back to the Seer. "It shocked the hell out of me to find out how into her he was."

"Thanks," Cordelia said grimly, eyes suddenly foggy as her mind drifted back into contemplation.

"Well... I coulda told you about the kye-"

"Fred, you use that word one more time I'll kick your ass," Faith said, her tone snappy and irritated. "She's been spouting that word every time I bring Wes into the conver-"

"Let's not forget `moira'," Cordelia added, rolling her eyes.

"They're GREAT WORDS!" Fred insisted. "And it explains everything perfectly!"

"Hmph. If your little definition is so perfect, then why the hell did Angel turn into a skitzo?"

Kate only blinked, mouth slightly open as she directed her attention to Fred. "What the hell is `moira'?"

Fred brightened a bit. "Well see, `moira' is the gut -"

Both Cordelia and Faith groaned.

Suddenly Kate was on the receiving end of two very well directed pillows, both landing directly on her face.

--

Monday Night - Cordelia Chase's Apartment

There was something that should have been incredibly funny, and mildly annoying, about the fact that Angel seemed suddenly obsessed with cheering her up.

Whenever the vampire got nervous he had the tendency to ramble about things that made absolutely no sense at all. It was something that was a little new, the fidgety way he would smile at her, a crooked little smile that seemed out of place on his handsome features. It was a startling contrast to the brooding expressions she had come to know, and it was such a part of him now that Cordelia honestly could say she loved the face as he did it.

He spoke to her as they walked up the steps, hand clutched in hers, talking low and with a cheery disposition that made her finally pause, turning back to him.

"Angel."

"Hmm?"

"Stop. You're scaring me." The words were softened with a smile on her face, and he looked startled, as if caught at something, but he smiled back, digging his free hand into his pockets as they approached the door.

The silence that followed made her hesitant. Awkward silences with Angel were new, something about bittersweet anticipation. About wanting what she had no right to ask for, what he had no right to give.

"Good night."

He gave her a tight smile, mouth opening slightly and then closing, stepping back.

She had fumbled with her lock, opened the door and stepped into it, before the choked "Cordy" behind her made her pause.

Angel came forward, turning her body in his arms so she was facing him, fingers now cupping her chin tenderly, eyes full of conviction. "I trust you, okay? I trust you and I know that we're going to get through this. There was a reason I met you in that party so many years ago, a reason why you never got rid of me, a reason why you've got these visions in your head. You make me FEEL, Cordelia. And..." his voice grew hesitant, as the light dimmed slightly in his eyes. "I don't know what would happen, if -"

"Angel, what are you doing?" Cordelia's voice was tender, but there were soft tears drifting down her cheeks. "I don't want you to do this. I don't want to be part of a tragic love affair that will make you brood even more. No, listen," her hand caught his cheek as his head turned, no longer wanting to catch her eyes. "I love you, Angel. Platonic, non platonic, that doesn't matter. I've always loved you, from the moment you scooped me up in Winters' house and jumped over the landing. You've been there for me and you've hurt me, and that's okay, because in the end, we've always ended up smiling." She gave him a shaky grin, eyes shining through the tears. "Let me have that. Please, let me make you happy - okay, not TOO happy but... if this goes any further, we'll concentrate on other things... broody things and death and curses and I don't want that. I don't want to think about anything sad. I love Connor and I love you, but I don't want to be involved in Tragic Couple Number Two. Don't taint me that way. Make me be the one that made you laugh. I don't want to be the one that made you cry. I hated it when she made you cry."

But the tears were stinging in his eyes already, and he closed them, trying to blink them back desperately, body trembling with emotion.

"If it helps, I'll even hold Connor - as long as there's someone else in the room."

The short grim chuckle that came out was unexpected, but the next minute she was in his arms, and he was embracing her with an intensity that made her breathless.

When he released her, he forced a smile on his face, trailing a gentle thumb down her cheek. "Okay," he said thickly. "We'll laugh."

When she closed the door, the smile froze. Angel stumbled back, waiting until he got into the car before pounding on the steering wheel with closed fists, cursing at the world.

--

Present - The Hyperion

Angel was quiet, as Gunn gave a low whistle. "Man. Talk about giving someone a license to brood."

"She wanted to be happy," Angel said seriously. "And all I had given her was pain. Cordy was right. By loving her, I just... I didn't think it was going to turn out the same as Buffy, but she's right. It's the same thing."

"Angel, it's not the same thing," Wesley replied.

Angel said nothing.

"Is it just me, or is the brooding thing not working with the whole ensemble?"

Angel, Wesley and Gunn all gave him blank looks.

"Honey, it's a little too hard to take you seriously in all that khaki," Lorne said, waving a hand to Angel's wardrobe. "Though, I will say the little sweater? Does wonders for your complexion."

"That's it," Angel snapped, sitting up and pulling at his shirt. "I'm taking this off."

"You're not going anywhere," Lorne said. "Until we finish the story. I have to say I'm more than a little intrigued as to how you ended up with the preppy dcor, not to mention the little angstfest with our pretty princess. Though, I do like the suspense."

"I like it," Charles said, grinning merrily. "It's very... white."

"Hey, at least my shirt is still in one piece," Angel said, nodding to Gunn's tatters.

"Personally, I think both are quite stunning."

"Oh, don't EVEN go there, Wesley," Charles said, casting him an angry glare. "Aren't you a little late for the prom?"

"What, he didn't make enough fun of you over getting beaten up by a girl?" Angel added.

Wesley glanced down at his tuxedo and mumbled, "I hate it when they gang up on me."

Lorne just rolled his eyes.

--

Monday Night - Santa Monica

He distinctly remembered a law passed in the state of California prohibiting smoking in a bar.

As Wesley looked over the dark, crowded room, he was elbowed accidentally by some wannabe Casanova who was attempting to squeeze in beside him to talk to the brunette sitting near. Deciding that that was enough to make him move, he grabbed his beer and slid off the stool. Holding the drink above his head, he weaved through the crowd, his grim expression never changing as he glanced again to the dancing crowd and easily spotted Faith.

Her body moved sensuously, sexily and it was deliberate. The way her hips gyrated and her eyes closed, looking the very brilliance of orgasmic pleasure as the men around her hooted and hollered, each vying for a chance to dance with her. But Faith was lost to anything but the music, and Wesley, with a lump in his throat, turned his head away. Finding himself in the corner, he faced a dartboard and nothing else.

He gripped his beer tighter, squinting at the dartboard, and found himself muttering, "three hours to make a bloody phone call," before he took a gulp and slammed it down on a nearby chair. Reaching forward, he pulled the four darts viciously from the worn out cork.

He was disgusted, disturbed, and angry.

A mere twelve hours ago he had been fine. Life wasn't perfect - it rarely was in his line of work - but it had been as close to peaceful as it had been in a long time.

The most he had to worry about was the growing attraction for Fred from Gunn.

Now...

He smiled grimly and ignored the impulse to look back and check on his Slayer - no, he corrected himself, not his Slayer. She was never HIS Slayer. That whole time in Sunnydale had been a farce. He had been a joke to them, to her. Curiously, he pondered if the alcohol was getting to him, and he lifted one arm, jerking it forward with barely a glance at the board.

Perfect bulls-eye.

Alright, so not drunk then.

Wiping at his mouth, he narrowed his eyes, fixating on the target again, and with a short breath out, let the second one fly, hitting the second circle in.

"So when you'd become the perfect marksman?"

Wesley paused, looking back to find Faith watching him, not three feet away. Faith sidled to his side, taking the remaining two darts from his hands and brushing beside him, until she was directly in front.

The back of her head smelled like rose scented shampoo. It pervaded his noise and he closed his eyes, feeling the swell of her buttocks as they came in contact with his groin. Hitching in his breath, his eyes widened, but he refused to be beaten. Keeping his ground, she pretended to ignore him, drawing her arm back and letting the dart fly.

It knocked his dart to the floor.

With pursed lips, he watched, cocking an eyebrow as she gave him a smirk, before shifting against him and using her other arm for her last dart.

"Faith."

The word was spoken close to her ear, and it did its damage. The second dart fell wide, barely managing to stay on the board.

"FUCK."

He grinned, stepping away and reclaiming his beer. "Made your phone call?"

She was quiet, her back to him. "Yeah," she said after a minute. "It's made."

"Good." Taking another drink, he caught her eye, expression passive and uncaring. "Then we should go."

"And if I don't want to? What are you going to do, Wes?"

He forced the drink down. Testing her boundaries, was she? The look on her face was smug, self-satisfied. She was expecting what, a game? Is that what this was to her?

"Then stay here. Find your own way back." That said, he moved, weaving his way through the crowd, resisting the urge to see that smug smile falter.

He was outside the bar, away from the infernal music, when he was slammed into the wall. A face that was both pissed off and confused suddenly met his.

"FUCK, Wesley! What the hell do you want from me? I'm good, you're a dick. I'm bad, you're a dick."

She had him pinned to the hard brick now, palms digging into his shoulders, eyes flashing dangerously.

"An apology?" she asked desperately. "Is that what you want? Okay. I'm sorry, okay? I'm FUCKING SORRY. Are we done? Can we get that stick out of your ass long enough for you to NOT act like I have the plague? I mean what the hell do you WANT?!"

"Faith." His voice was unerringly calm. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. I don't want anything."

He attempted to push away but she kept him pinned. "NO. You deal with this. You DEAL with ME. I'm sorry, Wesley, if you can't stand the sight of me, but I'm in your fucking life now and Angel's all I've GOT. I'm not leaving anytime soon so just shut up and DEAL. Or just..." she swallowed, and the anger faded slightly, giving way to a hidden vulnerability.

The expression melted Wesley's hard features slightly, but then her cheeks tinged red and the ice returned in her orbs.

She grinned. "Or is that just horribly inconvenient for you? Me here, reminding you of what you were? Just a great time, isn't it? Gunn, moving in on your girl? I saw the look you gave her -"

"FAITH."

"Or what, Wesley?" she asked, now beyond anger.

It was easier to see him this way. Easier to see him as he was now, strong and angry, with dark eyes that mimicked the anger and the hate that she could feel seeping through her own body. Easier to stare into those dark, cobalt colored eyes and shudder at the intensity behind them than to look down at the barely visible scratches on his arms and remember. Remember the pain and the joy as her blades and broken shards of glass had painted red lines. Remember listening to the hiss of his barely discernable gasps of pain.

She hadn't broken him that night. All that hate, and all that pain, and she hadn't broken him.

He was standing here now, with fists clenched and a flash of challenge in those mesmerizing orbs. More pain in those eyes and more insecurity in his face than she had ever seen on anyone.

Wimpy Wesley.

"I won't play this game, Faith," he said finally. "Your anger, you deal with it. Don't make this about me."

Her heart gave a dull thud and it was dangerous how those words affected her. How it made her almost panic. She forced herself to keep her eyes locked on the face instead of dragging down to where she KNEW, hidden underneath the cotton and the flannel, she must have left scars.

It took more self control than she thought she had to keep her fingers from smoothing up those bronze forearms, from tracing under the sleeves and - it would be warm and hot and she would feel it - it would be real again.

Would he let her?

Let her touch the scars she inflicted, allow her to bury herself in her pain by reminding herself of what she did... or would he turn away, disgusted and flinching away from her touch?

Would she cry if she touched them? Or would she cry if he flinched?

Her hand began to move, upward, hesitantly, but he didn't see it., Instead he kept his eyes on hers - intense, beautiful eyes - and he placed his palms deliberately on her shoulders; a strong grip before firmly, slowly, pushing away.

She let him move her, stepping away from the wall, and felt his skin brush hers as he pushed past. Her mouth let out a rush of air, tension she didn't even know was coiled inside her, and then he was a good ten feet away, raising one leg and sliding onto the motorcycle.

His knuckles were white as his palm tightened over the clutch, and the machine roared to life.

She stood completely still, but something inside her... something disturbing and - for one second, before she caught it - something that made her afraid... gave just a little bit when he spoke in a voice without anger, just placid grimness. That voice came from a part of Wesley she never knew.

"Are you coming?"

One foot stepped in front of another, and she answered by slipping in behind him. She wondered why it didn't seem the same on the way over here, why her fingers now were aware of every muscle as she slipped palms around his waist and under his jacket, resting against the fine fabric of his dark blue shirt. The post Slay haze must have been a part of it, she decided, because she was achingly aware of his broad back as she pressed closer to him when the bike kicked into motion, hands tightening for a better grip.

And he never flinched away from the grasp that had to have been a little painful coming from a Slayer who sometimes forgot her strength.

For that, she was almost grateful.

--

Present - Kate's apartment

"I think it's safe to assume the Wesley crush-age had officially begun, then," Cordelia said, popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

Kate shuddered, forcing Fred to slap her toes lightly. "Stop moving."

"Sorry." Kate wiggled her toes, smiling down until she saw the color Fred was using. "You're painting them PINK!?"

"It's good for your skin tone," Cordelia said, grabbing another handful of popcorn.

"It's PINK! No, no, no -" Kate tried to move, but Fred kept her grip on her feet tight.

"Now, Kate, I'm doin' this fer your own good. Your toes are horribly -"

Faith, who had been strangely silent until now, suddenly sat up, eyes focused on where Cordelia's handbag lay discarded near the couch. "Cordelia," she began distractedly. "Where's my vibrator."

Cordelia paused, her handful of popcorn now stuck in mid air, inches away from her open mouth. "GOD! You're not thinking of using that NOW are you?"

"What? NO!" Faith gave a smirk, suddenly more alert. "Not even I'm that kinky."

Kate and Fred paused, looking at both of them in silent shock. "Were you guys just talking about a vibrator?"

Cordelia and Faith shrugged. "So?"

"What kind is it?"

"Benton 300."

"Oh." Kate nodded.

Faith let a slow smile grace her lips. "Familiar with that brand?"

"I plead the fifth."

"Mine was a gag gift from the girls in the pen when I got out." Faith said flippantly.

"Right, we really believe that." Cordelia rolled her eyes, and then suddenly paused. "We shouldn't do with the S-E-X talk in front of the V-I-R-G-I-N."

"CORDELIA!" Fred looked offended. "I can spell better than you! And I'm not a - well not..." by now she was blushing profusely. "Okay. TECHNICALLY."

"Damn. Has someone had a little action?" Faith asked, as suddenly all three women were riveted on the red-faced physicist.

Feeling suddenly thrust into the spotlight, a place Fred never really liked to be, she hid her face by taking a moment to brush her bangs out of her eyes.

That completed, she looked up again. They were still staring at her expectantly and Fred sighed.

"Actually, I had a little heartbreak first."

--

Late Monday Night - Downtown, Los Angeles

Charles Gunn slammed the truck door closed, never one for quiet stealth.

Moving warily toward the building, he couldn't help but look back once, a foreboding sense of nervous fear sliding through his body and making him shudder.

Why the hell did he have a feeling he was being watched?

Attributing the nervousness to anxiety, he slowly took a breath in, walking slowly to the warehouse. The dirt crunched under his feet, marking every step, and he approached, making sure his hands were right where whoever was watching up there could see them. His crew had been known for being a little trigger happy before.

Pushing all other thoughts from his mind, Gunn nevertheless felt the nagging presence of Fred, her doe eyes pleading with him not to go. Shit. What was he here for anyway?

His steps faltered, Charles wondering if even showing up was a betrayal to Angel Investigations. Wesley had told him he was fired the next time he kept something from them. His fingers slipped into his pockets, touched the cell phone.

Wesley hadn't been in the hotel, Angel had been locked up in the room with Connor - and Gunn knew better than to disturb that dude with his baby. And Fred... Fred had been in her room.

He hated when she was in her room.

Swallowing, he figured he was clear on that he couldn't tell even if he wanted to, and that Fred... well she didn't tell, and she probably would.

"Come on, man," he whispered to himself. "You got yourself a responsibility." Pulling his hands out of his pockets he stepped forward again, and again, one at a time until he was standing at the door. Raising his hands in a fist to rap at the door, he blinked when it suddenly opened, and Jerry, a young Latino with a scar on his left brow, moved to the side to let him in.

Gunn stared at him warily, jerking his chin up. "Hey. Wassup."

"What up, Gunn."

"Gunn!" Rondell came forward, clasping his hand, a genuine smile on his face. "What up dog! You showed!"

"Yeah, I showed. Dunno what for, though."

Rondell grinned, and cocked his head back, pulling Gunn forward. "We got your mission, bro."

The crowd of kids looked so damn young. Were they always this young, he wondered, with those rifles in their hands and those knives hanging at their sides? A few parted, and Gunn found himself staring at one woman, a little older than the others here, sitting on a crate wearing a motorcycle jacket and a scowl.

"This here's Justine," Rondell said, grinning. "She's our messenger."

"Messenger?" Gunn repeated, as the young woman stood and walked forward to get a better look.

"For our own white boy."

Justine paused, her eyes fiery as she inspected him. "What the..." Recognition flooded her features, and she sucked in her breath, turning away. "Get that bastard out of here."

"What?"

"He's a vampire lover!"

"Oh. That. Yeah. He's down with one vamp. Bad-ass vamp with a soul." Rondell clamped a hand on Gunn's shoulder. "But he's cool. `Cause that's why he's here. Wants to break the vicious cycle. You know. Family Channel Special stuff."

Gunn didn't say a word. There was something very wrong with this. No girl with that much hate in her eyes should have been telling Rondell anything.

But he couldn't disagree. Not yet. He needed to know more.

Justine turned, regarding him. "So... you down with vamps, huh?" He gave her a half glare, cocking his head and keeping his shoulders back, making himself look taller.

"What's it to you?"

"I could care less," she responded. "But if you're gonna play with us then you need to learn a few ground rules. No vampire is left alive. Soul or no soul, and people who can't see the distinction? Those are the people I've got a problem with."

The stand off was clear, and Gunn felt himself almost lose patience, tell the girl he could take her bullshit and stuff it, but she just continued to talk.

"We're going on a vampire raid tomorrow. Kids stuff, really. Nest in the ghetto, 83rd. Compton. You'll meet him there. You in?"

"Meet who?"

She just regarded him, and repeated her question. "Are you in?"

He pursed his lips, and clenched his fists. "Yeah. I'm in." Rondell broke out into a smile.

"That's my dude! Just wait until you meet this guy - Holtz, he's just the coolest little -"

"HOLTZ?!" Charles looked stunned.

The gasp was audible, loud, and suddenly one of the boys leaned forward, running into the shadows of a corner and pulling back.

A young, slender girl was practically flung into the room.

He had forgotten how good she was at hiding.

"Fred," he whispered. The young woman never even noticed the crossbows and guns pointed in her direction. Instead her eyes were riveted on his, her mouth parted slightly as her lower lip trembled.

"FRED!"

She whirled, jerking away from the men and pushing through another to get to the door.

One of the boys raised a bow and immediately Gunn was there, jerking the weapon out of his hand and slamming a fist into his face.

"Don't you TOUCH her," he hissed to the fallen boy.

Rondell crossed his arms, watching with narrowed eyes. "See you tomorrow then?"

Charles didn't answer as he ran for the exit.

Panting slightly in the cold night air, Charles jerked his gaze around the deserted area, finally finding the young woman stalking to a black convertible.

"FRED!" Launching into a sprint, he tried to catch up.

"I followed you because I wanted to make sure you'd be safe," he heard mumbled as she continued to walk, her back straight and tall.

Finally close enough to grab her arm, he stumbled back when she jerked away, slipping free of his grasp. Her glasses made her eyes almost impossible to see, and Charles wanted to see them desperately. Wanted to try and gauge her face for a way to make all of this okay.

The expression was clear.

Betrayal.

"I thought you wouldn't do this," she whispered. "I thought I knew you, Gunn."

"Fred, baby, you do. You maybe more than anyone." He swallowed hard. "Listen, Fred, you gotta listen."

"At what?" Fred spat, sliding into the car and jerking at the door. He held it open, eyes wide and moist.

"Fred -"

"You don't believe in Angel. You're gonna leave all of us - everything we do and everything we mean to each other - just like that?"

"Fred, it's not LIKE that! These are my boys - I can't just -"

"Are you going to tell Angel?"

The interruption brought him up short. His hands faltered and she used the slack to close the door, making him jump away from it.

"Are you?'" she repeated.

Charles licked his lips, taking in a breath. "I need to figure this out. Find out where they're coming from. If I tell Angel then he'll come after them and -"

"They're working for HOLTZ! Of COURSE he'll come after them!"

"Fred." His voice was soft, almost weak. "I'm asking you to trust me."

She closed her eyes, shuddering. When they reopened, they were brilliant with tears. "I did," she answered shakily.

With that she slammed Angel's car into reverse, narrowly clipped Gunn's truck, and skidded away from the warehouse.

--

--

CHAPTER FOUR

--

Present - The Hyperion

"What?"

Lorne winced, closing his eyes at the anger that came so blatantly in the form of one word. Poor Angel was having a hell of a night. What with the Cordelia confusion and the revelation of Faith's true intentions and now of course - the resurgence of Gunn's somewhat shady connections.

Promises not to judge aside, even Lorne felt the urge to smack the young warrior upside the head. And a very nice bitch slap, at that.

"Yo, dog. I told you not to judge."

"It's rather hard not to, Gunn," Wesley began quietly. "When I gave you explicit terms regarding -"

"Oh, and what would YOU have done, huh?" he muttered angrily.

"Charles," Angel began, voice low and threatening, almost a dangerous purr.

"Angel, I'm here, aren't I?" Charles spat back. Angel's eyes narrowed, but Gunn paid him no attention, instead directing his gaze to the counter, leaning his forehead against it and closing his eyes. "Look," he started in a slower, calmer voice. "I needed to do this. I tried to tell you, but -"

"When did you try to tell me?"

"OH, that's right! SOMEBODY didn't want to LISTEN because SOMEBODY was a little CORDY obsessed. Ain't THAT a surprise?"

"You have been rather obsessed..." Wesley trailed off when Angel's glare moved onto him. "Never mind," he muttered under his breath.

"Not helping, Wes."

"ARGH." Lorne stood, and without another word, backhanded each and every head.

"OWW!"

"HEY!"

"LORNE!"

"You kids are driving me crazy!" Lorne groaned, hands slamming at the counter. "'It's his fault!' `It's his fault!' Kiddies, I don't HAVE children. I consider that a GIFT. At this point, CONNOR is more emotionally mature than your stunted little brains."

"Hey," Angel huffed.

"Face it, Broody Buns, it's true." Lorne leaned forward, eyes squinting. "I bet I can pinpoint exactly what you did following your little Seer's beautiful convoluted dream. You went home and brooded."

"That was easy."

"Oh really? Well then, THEN, you came to a life affirming decision that being `normal' meant suddenly pushing her out of her life so she could live out what was left of it `happy', never realizing of course that the only TRUE happiness she's ever experienced has been with you," Wesley summed up.

Angel shifted uncomfortably.

"And THEN you went and tried to finagle your way into pushing her away, only to realize you couldn't and drove her crazy by going stalker on her pretty little ass," Gunn finished.

Angel sat, contrite and disturbed.

"Shut up."

--

Tuesday Mid-Morning - The Hyperion Hotel

It was odd how the ache in his heart came back with so much familiarity. The chasm where the heart should have been - now pierced with a slow, throbbing fire - seemed empty; dead. This was nothing new for the vampire. Years of murder, chaos, passion and a love of all things dark and horrific, had left behind a shell of the beast he once was. The only sparkling vestige of his existence still in prominence was the soul that had been returned to him. For years, memories were the only living aspect of his presence - a dead body and a splintered mind added nothing to it.

When he had known love, he had known life. And in walking away, he had promised himself never again to allow the kind of recklessness that had resulted in the broken soul left to him, the moment Buffy had walked away from his life, away from his office, and away from his skewed reality.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Liam's was a soul that was unrepentant when it came to love. In three years another had snuck inside, garnering his affections. More than affection, for in the slow, all consuming, all accepting love of Cordelia, there was a storm. Darkness melded with light and Angel became not the redemptive hero of Sunnydale, but just a man. A man in love with his best friend. A man willing to cross dimensions, and free devils and commit cold blooded murder against the wishes of those who held a promise of humanity over him, in order to set her free.

He had deluded himself before. To keep Cordelia alive, to keep Cordelia free, to keep her out of pain and smiling, he told himself these were his reasons for what he did. That was the reason for his blind obsession and need.

Only now, in the shape of her own words, his selfishness manifested itself with accurate precision. The clarity came clear and Angel hated himself. Cordelia wasn't the reason he had done those things. No, the reasons had been purely self servicing. He had wanted her with him. For her to experience the bittersweet release of heaven would mean that he would be stuck here on earth without her.

For three years she had been beside him. For three years he had fought to keep her there, with her smiles and her quips and her beautifully expressive eyes that seared deep into his very soul. For three years she had held his hand, held his head, held his body and even held his child.

Love had blossomed, grown, matured.

But at what cost to her?

Twenty-one, and the hazel in her irises was tired. Twenty-one and dying. Twenty-one and doomed to spend the rest of her already too-short life with a vampire that could offer her nothing - and had offered her nothing - but the prospect of an incredibly horrible and painful death.

And all this, because she wanted to be remembered as the one that made him laugh.

The grim chuckle that escaped from his throat was almost ironic, and Angel blinked back the tears as he stared down at his child: his Connor, sleeping peacefully, never aware of his father's turmoil.

Steps on the marble outside made Angel look up expectantly as a flash of irritation moved over him. It was early, and now, in the wake of his contemplation and the impending heartbreak of his decision, there was only time for reflection, memories and pain.

But Wesley, who opened the door to his office and turned on the lamp, flooding the room with the oh-so-arrogant yellow light, never caught the signals that the vampire wanted to be left alone with his child.

It was his office, after all.

"Oh, good. You're here." Wesley came forward, and Angel stared up blankly from his wooden chair. For a second he contemplated ignoring him.

"What?" he asked, finally settled on a short, almost growl.

"Now that we have some time alone," Wesley began, shrugging off his coat and settling into his desk chair, leaning back into the seat, regarding his friend with a grim expression. "I was hoping we could discuss our present situation."

Angel's lip quirked. "Situation?"

"Faith, Angel." Wesley's fingernails rapped against the wood in nervous anger. "In short, I don't trust her."

Angel once again gave a short chortle, eyes drifting back down to the child. "Right. That's not a surprise, Wesley."

"Angel, I need you to listen -"

"Wesley, I understand that you have issues with Faith, okay? But she needs help, and we're the only ones -"

"Yes, I can see you're trying very hard to help her - just as long as it doesn't interrupt your `Cordelia Obsessing' -"

"Don't." Angel's voice was short, dangerous. Cool, dark eyes fixed on Wesley narrowing in warning. "Don't you dare turn this into being about my obsession with her. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with her."

Wesley let out his breath in long, ragged gasp. Closing his eyes, he forced on himself a calmer tone, more reasonable. "Angel. We're all aware of the severity of Cordelia's condition -"

"No, Wesley, I don't think you are. Because if you were, you wouldn't be sitting here trying to talk about Faith, when -"

"She's not the only person HERE, Angel! Matters NEED attention to -"

Angel stood, turning away when the child let out a complaining mew against the rising voices. "Then you take care of them. You're the boss now, remember."

Wesley slammed his hands on the desk, disrupting several pieces of papers as he angrily replied, "You're the one that invited her here. Perhaps you'd like to take just a PIECE of the responsibility?"

"I'm not evading anything, Wesley." Angel's voice was harsh, and he set his gaze back down on his child, before beginning again, once again in control of his emotions. "Faith is conflicted, hurt and confused. She's trying to find redemption in a world that doesn't forget, in a world where she CAN'T forget. What she did haunts her every day of her life. We can't crowd her in that. All we can do is be there for her."

Wesley sighed. "That's just it, Angel. You're not."

Angel heaved out a long, painful breath. "I will be. Soon. Not now. I can't now."

--

She hated her damned habit of eavesdropping. Like an addiction she couldn't quite shake, Faith continued to listen, leaning against the chipped wood, eyes hollow and face strangely passive. Wesley continued to rant, Angel continued to not care, and Faith felt the incredible sinking feeling in her stomach descend a little lower.

She would have found Angel's trust in her uplifting, had she not been so aware that the reason for his `faith' was that she was the farthest thing on his mind. He didn't care. She was here, she was safe. That was the extent of his worry for her. She was just another friend now. Her eyes closed as Wesley continued to discuss every detail in her life, everything she had done her damnedest to forget.

The mayor. Buffy. Riley. Xander. Himself.

She shuddered, stepping back away from the door, suddenly not wanting to hear anymore. Not from him, not from anyone... but especially, NOT from HIM.

"What're you doing?"

The voice behind her startled her. She gave a slight jump, reflexes kicking in before she had the chance to think, and her arm stopped seconds before it made contact with Gunn's throat.

Charles blinked, swallowing as he stepped back slightly. "Oh-kay, Miss Thing. You need to chill for a minute."

Faith felt awkward, with the tension in her stomach coupled with the sudden nausea that came with it. Sucking in her breath, she just pushed past him, moving towards lobby doors. She jerked backwards and narrowly missed colliding with Cordelia's slim form as the Seer suddenly appeared behind them.

"WHOA! Watch it! That was almost a head on collision, retard!"

"Move," Faith bit out.

Cordelia blinked, mouth parting slightly as she cocked her head, studying the obviously frazzled Slayer. "What crawled up your butt?"

"Nothing but your ass," Faith snapped back, moving around her and leaving Cordelia perplexed as she looked after her.

"Good one," she answered dryly, shaking her head and then nodding in Faith's direction. "What's with Psycho Bitch?"

Charles shrugged, shooting her an uncertain glance. "Beat's the hell out of me."

Cordelia pursed her lips, eyes looking back to Faith as the female slouched onto the big orange couch, a dark expression on her face. Had it been anyone else, Cordelia would have pried. Prying was, after all, what she did best, and certainly now - after a good night's rest, a lot of painkillers and only a dull ache in her head - she was in the best condition for it. But the last time she had tried to pry into Faith, she had ended up with a black eye the size of China.

Hence, Cordelia instead moved the opposite direction, following Gunn into the office where hushed voices silenced as soon as she opened the door. Angel and Wesley both were standing, torn away from their conversation with expressions of irritation and anger.

Gunn stood tensely behind her, his jaw ticking as he took in the scene, but Cordelia, for some reason tremendously determined to only think `happy' thoughts today, forced a smile on her face and penetrated the blanket of tension. "Hey guys!"

"Cordelia," Wesley said, crossing his arms.

Angel said nothing, only shifted his child in his arms as Connor squirmed.

"I don't know what the bitching is about, but you'll stop it right now. Tension is NOT good for Connor. Dr. Spock says -"

"Right, `cause Dr. Spock got so much experience on that damned Enterprise."

Shooting Gunn a dirty look, Cordelia turned to Angel, smiling at him brightly. "I stopped by Macy's, there was a sale, and I found the perfect little outfit for Connor! You want to try it on?"

Angel stared at her, with those intense dark brown eyes of his, and Cordelia found her smiling faltering at the look on his face.

Okay. So he hadn't forgotten about the whole conversation the night before. Damn.

Trying to forgo the inevitable confrontation, because Angel, being Angel, had probably stayed up all night, and brooded about the whole damn thing, she reached for the child. As if in reminder, the pain in her head flared up again.

Immediately, her hands retracted, her smile sliding off her face completely.

Angel's ever observant stare caught the slip, and he held his child closer, mouth twitching downwards.

"We weren't fighting, Cordelia," Wesley began heavily.

"You bought Connor an outfit, Cordy?" Angel said suddenly, coming forward. "Let's go try it on."

"Damn. When did Angel get all fashion conscious?"

Angel ignored Gunn's comment. Instead, all focus was on gathering his gumption to pull off what he had finally decided this had to come to, before Cordelia smiled at him once more, and another flicker of sadness crossed her face.

"Angel..."

"I'll meet you up there, take Connor."

Again, she stepped away from the baby, almost as if the child had the plague. This time Wesley frowned, looking between Cordelia and the baby. "Cordelia?"

"Just bring him up, I'll set it out," she said hastily, backing out of the room, and closing the door.

Charles stared after her, slightly open mouthed, before turning to glance quizzically at his companions. "She suddenly develop an aversion to baby holdin', or what?"

"It's the visions, isn't it," Wesley said, eyes widening with realization as his voice drifted to a soft whisper. "She doesn't think it's safe."

Angel said nothing, just shook his head as he moved forward.

Charles took a breath, taking a step toward him. "Angel..."

"Charles." Gunn looked back at Wesley, and the older man shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Whatever it is, let it wait."

"What if it can't?"

But Angel was already out the door, and Wesley crossed his arms, looking at him expectantly. "Something wrong?"

English's voice was almost tender and Charles felt something give in his heart as he remembered Wesley's hurt face all those months ago. Would he understand?

"Nothing that can't wait," he found himself saying numbly.

Wesley gave him a dubious look, but Gunn shrugged, giving him a crooked smile before moving out of the office as quickly as he could. His steps faltered as he looked up the staircase. He looked around the hotel, heart skipping a beat before making his decision. Anxiety clouded his eyes, and he ignored the Slayer who was watching him from her position on the orange couch.

Taking the steps two at a time, he moved as quickly as he could to Fred's room. The door was closed, but not locked, and Charles, who really did have a respect for privacy, felt even more inclined to hesitantly knock. But he froze seconds before his fingers rapped against the wood and Charles, suddenly needing extra support, leaned against the wall, forehead falling against the flaking wallpaper in a desperate act of confliction.

This was little Fred in there. Little Fred, who had looked at him with eyes of a traitor last night. Little Fred, who thought nothing of sitting her little delicate frame in his lap, who smiled at him with those big dark eyes. Little Fred, who he had hurt when she was in the process of trying to protect him. God... who was the last person that had wanted to protect HIM for a change? Cordelia... his sister...

Pushing away from the wall, he knocked hesitantly, taking in a surprised breath when the door creaked open. "Fred?"

There was no answer, and since that wasn't exactly a `don't come in, I hate your guts', Gunn stepped forward with encouragement, moving into the darkened room, eyes glancing over the walls until he saw the movement in the corner. His eyes suddenly watered, Gunn's fists clenched when he saw Fred pressed against the corner slab, scribbling on it with such intensity, it seemed her very life depended on it.

"Oh, shit. Fred..."

She froze, pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips, turning ever so slowly, to view the man in the room who stood stock still.

"What are you doin' here?" she asked flatly.

"Fred..."

"I thought you'd be back with your new family."

The words sent a reaction through his body, a visible shudder as they cut through him. Trepidation gave way to the ever more present guilt, before Charles stopped resisting the urge to speak. "Fred, I'm sorry."

"You already said that."

"You didn't believe it."

She turned back to her walls. "I believed it."

Silence followed, weary and blanketing and deadly to the bubble of hope that had risen in Gunn, that he might have been able to fix this, make it like it was before. "I'm not giving up on anyone, Fred. I'm not leaving anyone. It's just some routine hunts, Fred. It's nothing bad. You're over reacting."

There was an almost insane little chuckle that followed that, her body shaking slightly before she started to scribble faster. "Sure. That's what the platha said when the monros ate their guts for cheating in the card game but sure, why would I care?"

"Fred."

"Don't go, Charles." She was quiet, back still kept to him. "Just... don't go. I don't want you lost. I got lost and I don't want you to get lost."

The words tugged at him, and for a second he considered telling her he had changed his mind, hoping to see the smile light up her face. Maybe she would even jump into his arms, chattering about how she knew it, how she had always believed in him.

It was a cool little fantasy. But he couldn't smile, and he couldn't consider that.

"Don't you see, Fred?" he asked, tone low. "This is my fault. What's happening to them is MY fault."

She paused her scribblings. "That's not logical," she said immediately, before resuming her writing.

"I left them. I couldn't protect them, and I let them get lost. They need a leader, Fred. That's why they're turning to Holtz. Maybe if I can... drop the ball on Holtz, they'll leave him, you know? Maybe you guys don't need me here, but they -"

"We don't NEED YOU?!" The pen dropped out of her hand as she whirled, eyes wide and angry. "We don't NEED YOU?! Charles, we need you every -" she forced herself to stop, closing her eyes and taking in her breath. "Why are you going to ruin this?" she whispered finally, voice plaintive and soft. "Why are you going to ruin all the trust we have?"

"I'm asking you to trust me now, Fred," he said slowly. "Please. Just one person to trust me. I need you -"

"Charles, trust ME. We need you here."

He swallowed, hands unclenching as his breath came out in pants, suddenly unable to look at her. "You don't trust me."

"Charles."

"You so worried about trust getting ruined, Fred?" he whispered. "Too late."

"Charles -"

But he was already gone, and Fred found herself sinking onto her bed, hands in her lap, feeling utterly helpless and alone.

--

Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"Damn." Kate leaned back, her head cushioned by a leopard patterned pillow, as her eyes grew dark in contemplation. "The angst factor is just getting a little hard to handle."

Faith's eyes were on Fred's distracted form when she answered. "Kate, where the hell have you been? Compared to Graduation, this shit was a piece of cake."

Hazel eyes swiveled to pin the Slayer under their gaze. "Weren't you kind of unconscious in the hellness of Grad?"

"My point exactly."

"You two have known each other since graduation?" Fred asked, her head bobbing up.

"Haven't read the file?"

"Didn't mention anythin' about you two."

"Faith and I were never exactly... close... in high school..." Cordelia managed, a smirk coming to her lips. "Closest we came to that... umm... nevermind."

"What?" Kate asked, genuinely curious.

"Xander," Faith finished. She shared a glance with Cordelia, and both girls immediately looked away.

"Ohhh..." Fred grimaced. "Kinda hopin' that wouldn't come out..."

"So you DID read the file."

"Just made the connection."

"WHAT connection?!" Kate nearly hopped off the sofa in her agitation to get the story.

"Cop Lady's getting damn interested in our love lives, isn't she?" Faith said, studying the ex-detective dubiously.

"She's got no life," Cordelia said, shrugging. "Living vicariously."

"Oh, bite me, Cordelia," Kate snapped. "You brought it up."

"Did you just tell me to bite you?" Cordelia asked, eyes bright with surprise. Faith let a slow, soft smile trace her lips, reaching up to run long fingers through dark locks.

"I think we're getting to her, C."

"You know what? Tell Fred to get you the file," Cordelia finally said, leaning back and sighing. "Because I'm still kinda hung up on when Faith and Wesley went from scar obsessing, to getting groiny."

"What the hell about you?" Faith snapped back.

"You know about me."

"WE don't."

"Oh, hell, we'll get to me," Cordelia responded, pulling her legs into her lap. "Spill, Faith."

--

Tuesday - The Hyperion Lobby

Wesley had a tendency to overanalyze, to view other people's problems and still place the blame of the situation on himself. He knew that. He also was quite aware of the fact that with this self-imposed responsibility, there came a certain curse. As his fingers fumbled with the knob, he was also `completely aware' that he was just angry, disturbed, concerned and conflicted enough to throw something very large and very heavy at the next person who walked into the hotel.

Consequently, it was quite lucky for Faith - and himself, if Faith's reflexes hadn't weakened - that she was already seated in the Lobby, watching him with dark eyes, reminding him once again of a panther. Orbs, dark and brilliant, lingered over his body, her gaze a mimic of a predatory stalker. An accurate description, he felt, in the reaction he gave it; the nervous fear that once again she was viewing him as what had come so easily before: victim.

Her legs were crossed, her arms in a same entanglement and when their eyes locked, that slow, simple smile floated over her pronounced features. Once again, Wesley felt that stab inside of him. What was it about Faith's smile that made it so dangerous?

When women smiled, it was a beautiful thing. When Cordelia smiled, or when Fred offered her own unreserved grin, the world lit up, harps played and any man in the room - Angel included - would smile back, because that was all they could do. Faith, with a slow curve of full lips, garnered a different reaction altogether. Her smile twisted into his soul and put him on edge; made him grab the doorknob a bit harder, brace himself - and for what, he wasn't quite sure.

"Faith," he began, wincing inwardly when he realized the tone came out somewhat breathless.

"Wes." The shortening of his name came off easy and familiar, something this moment certainly was not. "You look frumpy this morning."

He let an eyebrow rise, disdainfully, presumably of its own accord. "It's been a rough couple of days. But I'm sure you're more than aware of that."

"Hmm. Not exactly a Hallmark moment, I'll grant that."

Wesley glanced toward the stairs. "And everyone is where?"

"Cordy went up the stairs, Angel ran up after her, Gunn followed after him, and I don't think the Crazy Taco chick ever came down at all."

"Her name is Fred."

The deliberate, firm tone only served to make her smile broaden and, irritated, Wesley contemplated wondering exactly what was so funny about him. He squelched the urge to ask when he reminded himself she would most likely tell him and heaven forgive him for his lack of control if Faith managed to wear down at his already frazzled nerves.

But instead of pressing the issue, surprisingly, the Slayer only stood, eyes continued to be locked with his. "You like fish, Wes?"

The unexpected question made him blink. "Pardon?"

"Woke up a little itchy for some action... must be the move from the three foot cell I was in. I got a lead about a vampire's nest down by Redondo Beach."

"I see."

Faith's posture was not aggressive, but it wasn't lax either. There was something different about the way she regarded him today, with her eyes continually shifting to his own, as if searching for and asking for something in return.

Faith had never requested a thing, her philosophy on life had been quite clear: want, take, have.

It made his lips purse and his eyebrows curl together, regarding her suspiciously. "And where did you get this lead?"

"Does it matter?" Stupid question, Faith immediately answered herself. Of course it mattered. Hadn't she been subject to hearing an entire conversation about Wesley's lack of trust in her? Fuck, it wasn't like she CARED. He was going to think that way about her no matter what the hell she did.

Came with the territory of being tortured, she guessed.

Flinching slightly at the memory, she kept her chin held high, regarding him, not willing to lose any more ground to him. She wasn't going to admit anything and she damn well wasn't going to ask him for it.

"You want me to come with you?"

The words made her insides squelch - something she wasn't exactly receptive to. Eyes hardening in automatic defense, she came forward, arms hanging loosely at her side. "Not really - but considering you're all for being my little shadow, what with your trust issues and all, I thought you'd want to know."

Wesley was quiet, dark orbs roving over her intensely and muscled arms flexing; an action that she noticed as she broke from his gaze to rove over them.

"Are you testing me, Faith?" he asked, the accent making each word unmistakable.

"I don't know, Wesley," she responded evenly, her eyes as cold as flint as she crossed her arms, standing. "Maybe I'm just testing myself."

The hint of danger in her tone was enough to make him hitch his breath but to his credit, he merely let it out slowly, gathering his strength, before letting his head down in a slow nod. "Let's go."

--

Present - The Hyperion Hotel

"Faith had a lead?" Angel's eyes, dark and deep, reflected in the Lobby lights as his gaze wandered over the hotel curiously.

"Precisely." Shifting in his seat, obviously uncomfortable in his white starched shirt, Wesley pulled at his collar with a grimace. "Where on earth would Faith get a lead that quickly?"

The baby monitor, until then sitting quietly on the counter beside them, suddenly erupted in static, mimicking the sounds of a young voice wailing.

"Oh, boy. Baby's up - I'LL GET IT - you stay." Lorne held out his hand, stopping Angel's rise from his stool. "None of you move, until I get back. I mean it. I'm hearing how this ends TONIGHT."

Scampering up the stairs, Lorne left behind three quiet, somber men.

Charles Gunn shifted on his stool, reaching up to scratch at the dry blood on his forehead. "Man. This is disgusting. I can't believe you eat this shit."

Wesley gave another scowl, gently holding the now lukewarm steak against his eye, looking quite the pitiful sight.

"You think I have time to change?" Angel asked suddenly.

--

--

CHAPTER FIVE

--

Tuesday - The Hyperion Hotel

Angel's body was tense with anticipation and dread. His hand pushed the door open, steps faltering at the sight of Cordelia seated on the edge of the bed, holding up a small blue jumper. Her smile broadened subtly at his entrance.

"Hey!" Rising to her feet, she acknowledged his half smile back with a distracted nod, as she extracted the baby from his arms, finally able to hold him. Chattering to his child, she turned her back on him as she placed Connor on the bed. "Isn't this adorable?"

He swallowed, mind whirling instead, on how he would begin the conversation, how on earth he would tell Cordelia that this, whatever it was, was over. For her own good.

Before he had a chance to come up with a segue way into the said conversation, Cordelia turned back, fastening clasps at light speed, and just as quickly, handing the child back to him. "There."

Mouth parting slightly, Angel held the child in front of him, eyes on Cordelia, until he realized he was supposed to be inspecting the jumper. He nodded mechanically. "It's great, Cordy. Really."

"Oh, please," she answered, obviously deflated. "You didn't even look."

"I looked! Look it's got - buttons! Shiny ones! With... flowers - and DUCKS!" He blinked, looking back down again. "You have my kid wearing ducks?"

"They're CUTE ducks, Angel." Cordelia crossed her arms, eyes flashing dangerously.

Angel pursed his lips, gaze drifting down to Connor, and when the child didn't complain, he decided to avoid the argument. There were other things that needed to be said.

"So... how'd you sleep?"

"All right," she responded, now back against the bed, folding the little jumpers and socks that had been spilled on the blankets. "What happened with the laundry? Fred usually has these things folded so well you'd think Martha Stewart had moved in."

"I haven't seen her this morning."

"Hmm." Cordelia's eyes flickered towards the door, frowning slightly, a thought flashing through her mind. "You think she's okay?"

Angel walked forward, taking in a deep breath for strength, before depositing the baby into the cradle. He paused to grip the bars, looking down at Connor. "I'm sure she's fine. She was with Gunn all day yesterday."

"Hmm. He didn't look too good today. Maybe I should -"

"Cordelia." Reaching out, he stopped her escape route to the door, a hand on her elbow, turning her back to him slowly. When she paused, she found intense dark eyes staring at her with a look she had come to expect with an overwhelming sense of anxious irritation.

"Oh, God, Angel. Tell me you didn't brood all night about this."

"I didn't... I didn't brood. I thought." He licked his lips slightly, distracted by the softness of her skin. Cold fingers drifted over the smooth forearms, tanned and bronze with a color that reminded him of the sun, almost as if the warmth of the rays had seeped through her skin permanently. "You belong to the day." The words escaped from his throat seconds later, cut off immediately when he snapped his mouth shut, looking away, embarrassed.

Cordelia was quiet, her reaction unknown, until he heard a shallow rasp There was a slight tremble to her body, beats before she extracted herself from his grip. "Angel..."

"I've hidden something from you." Dark, soulful eyes, ridden with guilt now pinned her with the luminous brilliance. Cordelia's throat parched immediately in reaction, every nerve suddenly waiting. Oh, God. What was it now? Another vampire love child? Another meeting with Buffy? Another killing spree?

Instead, Angel fished out a white envelope from his pants, fingers sliding over the side, studying it, before thrusting it to her.

Cordelia slowly took it, eyes curious as she opened it.

"A bachelorette party invitation?"

"It came about a week ago." Angel moved past her, sinking down onto the couch, looking so lost and sad. "I wasn't going to... it's one of your old friends, and I didn't want to - I'm sorry."

He looked so guilty over one silly invitation, and Cordelia couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "Angel! It's just a silly invitation - though if you ever DO hold mail from me again, I'll whip your little ass."

"Little?" The small smirk on his handsome made her grin.

"I'll add `tight'."

Resisting the urge to crane his neck to the side to see if his butt did in fact match that description, he instead cleared his throat. "I already RSVP'd for you."

Her eyes widened, and once again she glanced at the invitation. "Angel - this is on Saturday."

"I think you should go."

"You want ME to go to a bachelorette party. With strippers. And screaming women." Her words were flat, and at the mention of the word `stripper', Angel blanched slightly, but stuck to his words by nodding emphatically.

"I - in fact... here." He stood, hastily digging into his pocket and retrieving his wallet, opening it and retrieving his credit card.

Cordelia's jaw dropped at the sight of the plastic. "What are you doing?"

He continued to hold it out to her. "Get something nice to wear for it."

She blinked, immediately suspicious. "Angel," she began sharply, "What's going on?"

"NOTHING!" The words were said a little too quickly for her tastes, and ever observant, Cordelia only crossed her arms, studying him, eyes moving back to the tempting credit card.

"Mmmhmm."

"Really," he insisted, and the tip of her mouth quirked in amusement.

"You, the eternal tightwad, giving me money to spend on a bachelor party? I don't think so. Spill."

"I ... feel guilty?"

"What else is new?"

He shifted his feet slightly, and his eyes caught Connor squirming in the crib. "He's a little tired." Reaching forward, he plucked up his son and deposited him in Cordelia's arms. "Look! He's smiling."

"Mmm. And you're evading. Angel." Her last word has a warning note attached to it, eyebrow raising threateningly.

It still never failed to amuse her, despite her better judgment, how the vampire killer seemed to shrink under her glare.

"Nothing, I just... maybe you need a couple days off, you know?"

"A day off."

"We're in between cases. Go out. Have fun."

Her eyes narrowed. "Go out. Into the people world?"

"With the people parties."

"Angel, I haven't been to a people party in -"

"I know." He came forward, smiling down at her. "And I think you should. Go. To a people party."

Cordelia remained quiet, studying the vampire, the earnest expression on his features adorably distracting. Her hands shifted Connor, the baby gurgling happily in her embrace, as she looked down at Angel's son.

Eyes roving over the bedroom, she saw one of her jackets hanging over the chair, and her watch, forgotten in the little sleepfest of last night, still on the dresser.

Angel's sweater, smelling of her perfume.

Frowning slightly, Cordelia took in a hesitant breath. She knew full well he was evading, but common sense made her give him back a tight smile. "Give me the card," she grumbled. "I'll go shopping today. But

don't think you're getting rid of me that easily, buster."

A dark expression was what she got back, smile barely reaching his lips before he leaned forward, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against hers.

The embrace was almost desperate, and Cordelia considered pushing the vampire away, demanding to know what was going on his big, brooding, cro-mag head, but his hands slipped about her waist before she could get a word out. When her body swayed unconsciously toward him, she finally just let her eyes close, resting her cheek against his dark sweater.

At least like this, Connor would be safe from any vision.

Her hand tightened around Angel's waist when she realized he was trembling, but still battling the splintering headache from the vision aftermath, Cordelia said nothing, suddenly feeling very tired.

--

Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"Oh, geez." Kate looked severely put out, her head flopping onto her knee, which was drawn up to press against her chest. "Don't you people have anything HAPPY to say?"

Cordelia blinked, taking another drink of champagne before setting down the glass. "Kate. We showed up at your apartment drunk off our asses, and spilling a little blood. Do you REALLY think it gets ANY happier after this?"

Faith snorted. "Yeah. And we haven't even gotten to the sex."

"Or the death," Fred murmured, tying her long, dark tresses into a makeshift ponytail.

"Or the fact I found Angel in khaki. Let me tell you, SCARY," Cordelia added, shuddering.

Kate checked her watch, a wave of exhaustion floating over her. "And we're not even past Tuesday."

--

Tuesday Afternoon - The Hyperion Hotel

Charles Gunn grunted, shifting his weight on the dolly before pulling himself back under the truck, looking warily to make sure the cement block was in place. That last thing he wanted was to be pinned under the damn thing if the jack went out. The last time he had forgotten, his wrist had been pinned under the tire. It had taken George, Rondell, two guys from across the street and his sister to help him out.

He froze, suddenly sighing, resting his head on the carpeted wood as he stared at the pipes in quiet contemplation. That damn wrist still hurt when he thought about it.

Flexing his left hand, he studied it, swallowing down the memories that associated with the pain, and forced his mind back on the job at hand. He didn't want to think, didn't want to dissect every second, every moment that led up to this particular situation. The last thing he needed was the dark eyes of his sister haunting him as he looked into Rondell, and the large brown orbs of Fred pleading with him not to get lost.

His breathing became erratic, and realizing he was forgetting his resolve not to think, and be the good little `muscle', Charles sniffed it all in, and continued to work. Blindly, his hand reached out for the wrench, flailing slightly for it, until it was unceremoniously placed into his palm. Freezing slightly, Charles took hold of the truck and pulled his body out, to find himself inches from a crouching physicist.

"Fred," he blurted, as if without thinking.

Fred's hair was loose, falling around her delicate shoulders in long tresses, blow dried and straightened. The wind was playing with it, picking it up and moving it with short whispers. He found his eyes drawn to the way the small dark brown strands skimmed her creamy pale skin. The way it made him slightly breathless embarrassed him, his lack of control at her appearance forcing him to swallow. Immediately the scowl returned to his face, blush darkening his features as he pushed back at the dolly. "What are you doing out here, Fred?"

She stopped him from hiding again under the truck, using her hand to grab his thigh, pulling him back so his face was now looking up directly into hers. "Gunn, are ya still goin' through with what ... you're going to do tonight?"

He was quiet for a moment, gauging her expression, unsure how to react to it, when just a few hours before she had been scribbling crazily in her room, desperate and lost and scared. The memory made him close his eyes, his voice gruff when he responded, "Why do you care?"

"Someone has to."

His eyes jerked open. Something about the words, how she said them, twisted deep inside of him, and his next sentence came tumbling out before he could stop it. "Is that all? You care because you have to?"

"No."

That was it, one little word. But her hand on his thigh, squeezing reassuringly, was damned distracting, and Charles bit his lip, finally overcome. Sitting up, he watched as her hand descended from his leg, eyes finally on level with her own brilliant gaze. "Fred," he began seriously. "You going to tell on me?"

That amused her, he could tell. She gazed at him, her mouth gently twitched as her gazed shifted away. When her eyes returned to lock with his again again, her stare was a little harder, but the smile was gentle. "No. `Cause I'm going to go, too, and I can't tell on both of us."

He blinked, everything suddenly sinking in and landing in the pit of his stomach. Reaching for her hand automatically, he shook his head firmly. "NO. You ain't going anywhere, Fred. You're staying right here where it's safe -"

"If you're going, I'm going, Charles."

"Fred, I'm not letting your little skinny -"

"CHARLES."

Sometimes, he wished she didn't call him by his first name. In her drawl, his name came off regal and noble, charming and soft, delicate and angry. When she said it in that tone, it ripped deep inside of him, reminding him of how she saw him, how he wanted to see himself.

He pushed out a long rush of air, hand still clinging to hers. "I'm not going tonight." She blinked, mouth parting in surprise, but he hastily continued. "Rondell called, said the nest moved or something. That Justine chick is going to find it and then, we'd go. Might be tomorrow night, or the night after. But you're still not going, Fred."

"Gunn -"

"It's too dangerous -"

"Charles, two years ago, I was kidnapped by a troicla mob. They're... cannibals, but they have these tools, and I really needed them. So, I let them find me, and that night, after all the torture and the regular fright fest, I got myself loose and managed to sneak into the main den. Everything went off okay, until I woke up one of the beastie dog things and then I had the whole crowd runnin' after me in the middle of the night - and here I was on barefoot weighted down with fifty pound shovels and hammers and -"

"Fred," he interrupted, his voice soft and fragile and just a little bit unlike Gunn. "What's your point?"

She paused the rambling, blowing out her breath in a long, drawn out sigh, before eyes that flashed with unmistakable strength turned their gaze on him and she answered, "My point is that you don't know what dangerous really is."

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

"Now, just sink back, okay, yes. Good. Ohhhh, pumpkin. That must really hurt."

Angel and Gunn exchanged exasperated glances. Lorne continued to fuss over Wesley, pushing him back onto the couch.

Wesley whimpered, a sigh of agony and self pitying pain, when Lorne wiped the cloth over his nose. "Wow. That's going to leave a shiner, poor guy."

Charles snorted. "Yeah. You won't be singin' that tune when you find out what he did."

Angel turned, curiously glancing at Gunn. "You know what he did?"

"Not the specifics, but considering Faith AND Fred jumped his skinny white ass, it must have been enough."

Angel could hardly contain the smile that illuminated his face. "Fred's the one that gave you that shiner?"

"Just the bloody nose. Faith gave me the black eye," Wesley commented, glaring at the men, before leaning his head back down on the sofa pillow. "And don't bloody start. She's surprisingly strong."

Angel grinned, knees swaying slightly, gratified that the little Pylean ex-slave had managed to hold her own against the librarian wannabe. "Fred punched you out?"

"Angelcakes, unless you want me to remind you of a certain contraption that was in your possession, and is now dying a watery death in the sink, I'd suggest you keep your mouth shut about Wesley's little bruises," Lorne snapped, eyes pinning the vampire with a smirk. "And you, Mr. Gunn, at least I didn't fall off the BED the night I woke up from my first drunken orgy."

Charles gulped, Angel stared, and Wesley smirked.

"You were saying?"

--

Tuesday Afternoon - The Redondo Beach Pier

The air tasted salty, tangy on her tongue. Humidity made the salt stick to her skin, her tank top offering no protection against the sea air, making her feel sweaty, and a little dirty. Pulling her hair into a makeshift ponytail, Faith felt a gratifying rush of cool air over her exposed neck, sending a delicate shiver down her body.

When her eyes opened, she noticed Wesley's eyes fixed to the spot on her neck. The look made her uncomfortable enough to look away, down at her feet where the wet sand now spooled around her boots, her feet sinking in.

He was walking silently behind her, his jaw hard and his eyes cold. Faith wondered, after resisting another glance at her tall ex-watcher, if the guy ever let up. He was going to sprain something. Wesley hadn't said more than a couple words since they had arrived, the crowded beach and pier now dwindling to couples as families packed their belongings, heading up the beach to their cars waiting above.

"Faith, I'm getting rather tired."

Wow. A complete sentence. Rolling her eyes, she shrugged, hands buried in the pocket of her pants as she continued to walk. Eyes that were sharp and clear glanced around the beach, looking back towards the pier. "He didn't say exactly where it was, but I'm guessing that's a good place to start."

Wesley turned his head in the direction she pointed, mouth pursed as he studied the deserted sewage pipe roughly five hundred yards away. "It would make an ideal place," he admitted grudgingly. The ocean's tide was beginning to pick up, wind growing colder around them. "There are fewer people here now, with good reason." He pointed to a sign posted on the beach. Curious, Faith kneeled down, eyes skimming it over thoughtfully.

"The water's contaminated?" Faith frowned. "Shit. Hell yeah, it would make an `ideal' place. Nobody in their right mind would swim here, unless they had a freakin' death wish, anyway."

He refrained from commenting, pretended not to notice when Faith shivered slightly, presumably from the cold, and began to walk to the pipe, pace quickening. Faith followed, and when she shivered again, his upbringing nagged him, and with a `bloody hell', he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it around her shoulders. "I suggest the next time we embark on a night quest, you bring sufficient protection from the cold."

Her large brown eyes, darkened with the make-up she wore, flitted to him thoughtfully. When that blasted smirk reemerged, he realized what he had said. "The next time?" she repeated.

"Bloody hell," he repeated, stalking onward by himself, a feat that would have appeared plenty more masculine if the blasted sand hadn't been interrupting his strides.

"Hey, you brought it up, English, not me. I'm just here for the shrimp."

He cursed under his breath, shooting her a narrowed glance of warning before finally giving up, sighing as his steps faltered, coming to a stop. Curious, Faith followed, pulling her arms into his jacket, wrapping it around her as she crouched down next to him, thigh brushing against him. The movement brought an unconscious shudder with it, and it threw Faith, as she blinked and moved away from him, hoping to God he hadn't seen it. But Wesley's attention was only fixed at what appeared to be a blob of jelly. "Uh... Wes? What the fuck are you doing?"

He was somber, glasses glinting in the rapidly setting sun as he turned, eyes scanning over the beach. "Jelly fish," he responded, motioning with his palm. "The tide will rush in and they'll be here, stranded." He swallowed, looking back down at the quivering mass.

Faith was quiet, unsure why he was sharing this, unsure why she cared. Silent, she felt slightly unnerved at the obvious emotion on Wesley's face, as his hand reached out to what still looked like a bunch of jelly to her, and then retracted at the last minute.

"Let's go," he said suddenly, tone breaking slightly.

Surprised, she stood, following him. "Aren't you going to throw it back? Save it or do some nice `save the planet' thing?"

"I can't," he answered shortly. "Even if I throw this one back, chances are it's too fragile to fight the tide, and will be sucked back in. Or it'll sting me, and regardless of that, there'll just be more."

She froze, features suddenly blank. "That doesn't sound like you. I thought you liked lost causes."

His voice was harsh when he tossed back, "You don't know me, Faith."

She forced back the tears, more pissed off than hurt at his little Freudian slip, and with a deep breath in she shrugged off the bastard's jacket and flung it to him as she passed by him, reaching the sewage pipe first.

He had to run to keep up with her, but he was already out of her mind as she jumped into the darkness. The wind blew around her as the first vampire came, bellowed out a warning to his other compatriots, launching towards her.

The violence was familiar. The first punch, the feel of the bone crunching against the flesh, was gratifying. It filled her senses with joy, release. Faith's smile was blurred by the tears as her hand lashed back, burying the stake into the chest. She felt the dust explode as she moved onto the next, ducking under and pushing up until the body was tossed over her, landing on his back. In two seconds, she was astride him, arm slamming down and again until the dust exploded.

In the dimness of light, she held her own, never even remembering about the Watcher, until she heard a very human cry of pain behind her. Jerked back into the present, torn from her euphoria, Faith whirled. Panic overcame her anger as she sprinted forward, launching forward and taking Wesley around the waist, pulling him away seconds before the vampire lunged. Straddling the Watcher, Faith kept him safe, pinned under her thighs. Hands and arms did all the work now, building up a sweat as she punched and threw another out of the way.

When two came at her at once, she cursed, rolling forward, and pulling until Wesley was now on top. The new position left her arms and legs free to trip the second and dust the third, before she shifted and was on top again.

Two minutes later, she was breathless, panting and sweaty, her nerves tingling and mind racing as the dust settled. Shifting her weight, she ground her hips distractedly, legs moving to let herself up. Everything came to a sudden halt when a labored groan came from under her.

Something warm and hard and stiff was pressed against her leather clad groin.

At first disbelieving, Faith shifted again, and the reaction was instantaneous. Wesley's eyes closed and his hands, before clenched on the floor around them, moved to her thighs. Her chest began to rise, faster now, as she took in a huge gulp of air, looking down in surprise, and then in growing excitement.

Shit, oh shit...

The post-slayage wreaked havoc in her mind, and before she quite knew what she was doing, she had her body pressed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his body, and her mouth was dancing hungrily against his. Moaning, she moved sinuously, eyes closed as his head tilted and his mouth opened, allowing her to suck his tongue into her mouth and tangle her own against it; harsh and slick and warm and HOT -

And then he pushed her away.

Faith, thrown off balance, was still, reality swinging back to her as she blinked at Wesley, the two staring at each other with panicked expressions. "Oh, shit - Wesley, I -"

"Let's go..." If she didn't know better, she would have thought he might have been nervous. Standing, she trembled, and then stood in shock when Wesley tripped, landing in what appeared to be fish guts.

"Oh, eww."

Thirty minutes later, Faith found herself in the hallway of his apartment, wrinkling her nose at his fishy smell as he let her in. He dropped keys on the dresser and moved to the bedroom, stripping off his soiled jacket along the way.

Reaching the safety of his bedroom, Wesley leaned against the wall, finally allowing himself a moment to breathe, his mind still whirling from the events at the pier. Breathing heavily, he pushed away from the wall. Moving towards the bathroom he unbuttoned his shirt hastily, letting it fall into a cluttered pile on the floor.

"Hey, Wes?"

"What?"

"I'm making a phone call."

She didn't ask. Bloody hell, of course she didn't ask. Since when did Faith ask? She simply took.

Then why the hell had she looked like she needed to believe in him so much?

Swallowing, he reached his sink, hands clumsily reaching for the faucet and turning it on. Letting his hand splatter the cool water over his face and his hair, he tried to cool himself down. Taking a moment to breathe, he took notice of the reflection in the mirror - a bare-chested man with the slicked wet hair - and, after pulling off his glasses and blurring the figure, Wesley wondered how the hell he had ended up making a complicated situation even worse.

Pulling off his pants, he found a pair of jeans, slipping them on and moving toward the door, pausing when he heard Faith's hushed voice. Waiting, he took in her end of the conversation, eyes growing dark. His chest constricted at the implication of her words.

Increasingly self conscious of being in Wesley's apartment, Faith put the phone down hastily when the door opened, a tall, lean, bronze body entering. Her mind was already laid out in splintered fragments all around her, but her breath caught as she realized that exactly what she wanted yesterday was being shown to her at this moment.

Wesley's unbuttoned shirt revealed a trim chest, and etched over a pectoral, was a long, jagged white scar.

Oh... fuck.

Faith reeled, suddenly drawn back into that night. Images flooded through her, and she was there: his body against hers, her fingernails cutting into the fine skin, and a large pane of glass sliding into that exact shape on a less trim, paler version -

A small gasp, tortured and painful, ripped from her throat, and Faith, shaken at the memories, let the phone clatter to the floor. "I gotta go."

"Faith."

She was suddenly trapped. Her steps backpedaled, but with her panic came clumsiness and she stumbled, dropping a lamp and breaking it.

"Faith!" He barked almost sharply, but she was beyond hearing now, trying desperately to make it to the door before any more visions manifested themselves, before her already shaken heart would completely shatter in two. The hand closing around her wrist clicked on her reflexes, and without another word, she flinched, throwing a punch that cracked on Wesley's jaw.

He lost control then, and seconds later, her own cheek was stinging with a forceful slap that sent her sprawling back against the wooden door. Stunned into silence, the pair only stared at each other, Faith's breathing constricted, the act of violence against Wesley just too much, too much -

Her hand scrambled for the knob, her eyes locking with his, and as she tried to open the door she nearly broke it with her strength.

He sank slowly down to the floor as she fled, palm stinging, the look of horror on his face mimicking her own expression perfectly.

--

--

CHAPTER SIX

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"And then?"

Cordelia sighed, running a towel through her wet hair, grimacing as the wet strands stuck to her skin. "And then nothing. Wednesday and Thursday just kinda... went."

Noting with some aggravation that Cordelia had managed to find the only wool towels she had, Kate gave an annoyed frown. "What do you mean?"

"Everybody avoided everybody else," Fred supplied helpfully. "Cordelia was still on her `days off', so she just came in and out of the hotel, and Angel kept sayin' he was busy, always slinkin' off and stuff, so we never really saw him."

The tell-tale blue eyes of the ex-detective focused on Faith. "But, what about your -"

The Slayer, who up until this moment had appeared distracted and forlorn, now snapped her head back to meet Kate's searching gaze. "It doesn't matter what I did," Faith snapped.

Cordelia stiffened, and Kate herself looked startled, orbs flashing once. "Faith -"

"Doesn't fucking matter, okay?" Faith snapped, rubbing at her neck. "I had my own shit to deal with and I dealt with it."

"Typical Faith," Cordelia answered dryly, crossing her arms as she studied the Slayer. "Not exactly open and sharing when it comes to her underworld connections."

"Oh, why don't you fucking bite me, Cordelia!" Faith snapped, an angry snarl in her voice that made Fred jump. Kate glanced at her desk - specifically, the third drawer that held her gun. "It was my own business."

But the Ice Queen appeared unfazed by Faith's erratic temper. "Right. And that's why you met with that Justine chick and that's why you had your own little chat with Holtz."

Startled, Faith jerked her head back to Cordelia, the passive expression on her making the Slayer respond with a lilted sentence. "How did you -"

"I didn't. Wesley did. You may have stayed away from him, but he didn't stay away from you."

Faith closed her eyes, hands suddenly hiding her face from them all, ignoring the silent room. "I know," she responded, her voice broken and uneven. "He told me."

--

Thursday Evening - The Hyperion Hotel

Charles Gunn had to admire Fred's gumption. In the last two days, he had attempted every single thing he could think of to convince Fred that going with him was not safe, but the young woman stuck to her guns.

In the end she told him that if he did not stop trying to convince her not to go, or even thought about leaving without her, she would simply walk into Angel's room. Or place a phone call to the absentee Cordelia. And knowing that she was incapable of telling a lie, she would simply let things spill.

Charles knew the validity of such a threat and never had he been more thankful that Angel chose this moment to become broody and reclusive, staying in his room with his child and leaving at night, dark and silent, before coming home only to sleep.

Fred openly wondered if something was wrong but, true to her word, she stayed away from Angel, ever afraid that she would give herself, and Gunn, away. With one look, she could begin to ramble.

The crazy convict chick had taken to hiding too and it seemed that Angel Investigations was now in a state of vacation. Gunn was slightly confused as Wesley, himself and Fred seemed to be the only ones coming to the office during regular hours. The quiet days of Wednesday and Thursday slipped by almost without incident, despite Gunn's fear that something would happen to make him slip and give himself away. Honestly, it was the other people that he was more worried about.

Lorne was also becoming a problem. Knowing that the Pylean could take one look at Fred or himself and know exactly what was going on - and remembering about the sore spot the Host had concerning a certain group of ex-gang members - Charles felt downright nervous every time he spotted their newest roommate.

But the truth was it seemed everyone was avoiding Lorne, to the point that he heard the Host bemoaning that it seemed he had developed some sort of `cooties'. Taking refuge with Connor, Lorne could be heard on the baby monitor, making cooing noises and talking at length with an exasperated Connor, and Fred and Gunn, glancing at each other from across the counter, would have smiled in amusement if they had not both turned back to Wesley and noticed the brooding thing coming back.

Wesley, too, was acting weird. He had taken the day off on Wednesday, came in on Thursday with a bruise on his jaw, and when Fred asked him what happened, he responded - pretty rudely - that he had walked into a door. Gunn had been dubious - Wesley was clumsy, but not that clumsy - but when he tried to call English on it he instead had been subject to a tirade about proper office dress code.

THAT ended up in an argument about the length of Cordelia's miniskirts, one that was only cut short when the Faith chick - who he STILL had yet to have a real conversation with - jogged down the stairs, pulled on a tight black jean jacket and bolted out the door. Wesley had said something about closing down the office for the day and, without another word, had pulled on his own jacket and ran upstairs.

Charles blinked, sighed, and then turned to speak to Fred about the weirdness of these events, only to find she was no longer around. Calling her name, he finally found her in her room, a black felt pen in her hand, staring blankly at the wall. Charles paused, fists tightening around the door, and slowly her name was whispered. "Fred."

She paused, turning back to catch his eye, and letting a soft blush move over her features, wrapping her fingers around the pen. "I... had a thought."

Charles gave her a long stare as he moved towards the bed, raising a foot over fast food wrappers and empty coke bottles; gazing about the room with new eyes.

She continued to stare at her scrawls but she noticeably shuddered when he sank his weight down next to her, a large, heavy arm settling hesitantly around her waist and pressing into the sheets. Fred closed her eyes, hitching in her breath as Gunn leaned forward and rested his chin on her forehead. She felt the exhale of his warm breath on her shoulder, his firm chest pressing against her, the smell of his cologne drifting into her nostrils.

It was a warmth she had almost forgotten, and it distracted her, breaking her mind from thoughts of the lyrics on the wall. It was enough to make her jump in surprise when his fingers tangled in hers - warm - sending tingles up to her elbows until the pen had been taken and placed on the dresser.

"Fred."

"I'm sorry, Charles," she blew out hesitantly. "It's just... hard. Keeping a secret is hard. I had to..." she waved her fingers to wall. "To get it down."

He was quiet, but when he did speak, with his thigh pressing against hers - so alone in this big hotel - Fred detected a sense of brokenness. "Girl, you ain't got nothing to be sorry about. You tell Angel, and Cordelia, and all of them. You tell them. You should."

Surprised, she gave him a started glare. "You think I'd betray your trust?"

At the offended tone, he only smiled gently, reaching up to brush her bangs from her face, a soft caress that felt warm on her skin. "Naw, girl. I trust you. That's why I think you should tell them."

He was giving her his choice then, right then and there. Wanted her to make his decision for him. Poor Gunn. A lump of emotion settled in her throat as she looked at the warrior, looking at her so hopefully.

"I can't," she responded, voice aching. "I wish I could, Charles. But... all I can do is stand by you."

"But look at what -"

"I'll deal with it."

"I don't want you to. Too many people have to `deal' with my mistakes." Suddenly overcome by the darkness in his eyes, Fred's palm gently caressed his lips.

Frozen, the cellphone ringing from his pocket jerked him out of his stillness and with a rough voice he picked it up, turning away red-faced from the little Physicist. Intently listening as she shifted away from him, he heard Rondell's voice. Half listening and half answering, he soon snapped the phone shut.

"Well?" Fred asked, breaking the silence that followed.

Charles took in a breath, turning back to meet her eyes. "It's tonight."

"Okay - OH WAIT." Fred smacked her head with her palm, closing her eyes. "I told Angel I'd watch Connor tonight -"

"Oh, too bad, guess you can't go -"

"Gunn, shut up." Casting him a glare, Fred reached for her phone, grabbing the cordless and dialing.

--

Thursday Afternoon - Cordelia's Apartment

"Sweetie, if there was something wrong, or particularly smelly about me, you'd tell me, right?"

Cordelia's eyebrows quirked inward, her mouth a deceptive smirk as she studied the green-skinned demon. "What?"

Lorne continued to study himself in the mirror, shaking his hips in an exaggerated fashion before sighing, adjusting his lime green tie. "For some reason I keep getting the vibe that people want to avoid me like the plague."

"Oh, please. You're insane!" Cordelia gave a short laugh, giving her attention back to Connor, as the chubby baby gave her a gummy smile.

"Honey, I may be a lot of things, but insane, is definitely not in the top ten," Lorne responded, rolling his eyes. He gave a small sigh, cocking his head and turning away from the mirror. "I just get the distinct impression that everyone at the hotel is going out of their way to avoid me."

"Ah... and that couldn't be because you read people without asking, making them abruptly uncomfortable and kinda naked - oh wait... just might be, hmm?" Cordelia said with a pointed look.

The Host's shoulders deflated as he came forward, settling down next to the Seer who was distractedly holding onto Connor's body. "It's not like I can help that, though I will say this: sexual tension? You can cut that bad boy with a knife. Forget a knife. A spoon. Just SPOON that sucker out."

"Really?" Cordelia, gratified she at least had an office gossip now that Lorne had a made a semi-permanent move into the Hyperion, sat up in interest. "Who?"

Lorne gave a sly grin, "You mean BESIDES you and Gloom and Doom?"

Fighting the hot blush, Cordelia answered with a snap. "Please. That's old news."

"Hmmm." The phone rang, and automatically, Lorne leaned over to pick it up. "Mistress Chase's."

The voice at the end was curiously silent. Lorne rolled his eyes, heaving an impatient sigh as the Seer gave him a curious look. "Hellooo?"

"Lorne?"

"Freddie! How's it hanging, baby doll?"

"Well, it's not - I don't - oh. Fine!" Lorne frowned at the stammering in an obviously agitated Fred's voice.

"What's up sweetie? You sound nervous."

"NOTHING! I mean - nothing," she continued, in a complete monotone. "Is Cordy there?"

"Right here." At Cordelia's questioning look, the Host shrugged.

Taking the phone, Cordelia answered flippantly. "What's up, Fred? No, he's right here, duh. Sure, I guess... why didn't you just ask him yourself? Hold on -" Cordelia nodded to Lorne. "Fred wants to know if you can watch Connor tonight, she and Gunn have a thing of sorts."

"A thing?"

"A date?" Cordelia asked into the phone, and then grimaced immediately when a high-pitched squeal from the receiver made her hold it away from her head. "Okay, okay, not a date! Geez. Can you do it, Lorne?"

"Well, despite the fact that having this child is severely ruining my social life, sure."

"I would, but I have a dinner date with some friends."

"You have friends?"

"Long story - bachelorette party RSVP, I got wrangled into a `catch-up' dinner too," Cordelia responded, rolling her eyes before turning her attention back to Fred. "Fine, fine. Everything okay? No, no visions. What about Angel? Again? Freak. Yeah, I'll call him later. And Wesley - with FAITH? How is psycho chick anyway?"

This time even Lorne heard the agitated response. "Cordelia, I have to GO."

"Fine, geez. Have fun on the non-date. Bye."

Lorne slumped back down against the cushions. "You see? It's NOT my imagination. She could have asked me, but NOOOO - had to ask YOU to get to me and I'm a lovable person!"

Cordelia smirked.

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

Wesley swallowed, and then immediately grimaced, getting up and reaching for a cloth, spitting the blood that leaked from his split lip onto the handkerchief. With a disgusted snivel, he ignored the looks of the other men watching and proceeded to sit back down. Reluctantly, he handed Gunn a moist towel to wipe at the scratch on his head, before answering the question that Lorne had put forth.

"I found out enough," he began carefully, "to make me suspicious." Shoulders sinking, he caught eyes with Charles. "I should have made the connection."

"What did you learn?" Angel asked, confusion and concern illuminating his dark eyes.

Wesley considered the best way to explain, and finally began with a slow, "enough." When Angel began to protest he added, "Faith was not released by Wolfram and Hart, as was my first suspicion. She was released based on her own good behavior. But she had had a regular visitor for a few months now - a new woman, said to have been familiar with her story, named Justine."

At the mention of the name, Gunn stiffened, an audible gasp coming from his lips. "My Justine?"

"I believe so." Wesley gave a shrug. "At the time, I wasn't aware of whom Justine was working for. My suspicions, again, were Wolfram and Hart but they have remained surprisingly out of the whole thing."

"Not really." Off their looks, Angel explained, "I've paid a visit to one of their partners."

"Oh. I'm guessing it wasn't exactly a tea party?" Lorne asked.

Angel's answering look was enough to make Lorne answer his own question with an averting of his eyes and a low whistle.

"Wesley," Angel began, turning his attention back to the Watcher. "You said that Faith -"

"I didn't know enough," Wesley said, "but my sources had tied her to Holtz. I had my suspicions - enough to be concerned - but because of my rather... complicated situation with Faith, I was hoping to discuss it with you. You weren't answering your cellphone."

"Figures," Gunn muttered, earning a glare from Angel.

"I decided to stop by Cordelia's, in hopes you would be there." Wesley gave a grim smile, reaching for a beer bottle located in a melting bucket of ice, courtesy of Lorne. "I had absolutely no idea who I would find instead."

--

Thursday Evening

When the truck parked and the ignition was cut off, there was no sound but Fred's erratic breathing. Charles cocked his head, studying her, making note that no matter how brave Fred was, she was still noticeably nervous. At his look, she offered an `I'm okay' smile, but reached for his hand anyway.

Slipping a warm palm over hers, he noticed the trembling and grabbed hold tightly, pulling her over to his side of the truck and sliding an arm around her. The embrace was one she gave gladly, sliding palms under his jacket and over his shirt, head resting on his shoulder.

He pressed his cheek against her forehead, exhaled once, and tried one more time. "Fred. You don't have to be here."

"Let's go."

Grabbing her small backpack, she slipped from his arms and jerked at the door, pushing it out with such force that she almost fell out herself. Quickly Charles moved, sliding out of the truck and swinging the door closed, waiting as she crossed to his side and then moved with him toward the crowd of young warriors. Their talking stopped as soon as they laid eyes on the newcomers and knowing what had caught their attention, Charles squared his shoulders and affixed a scowl to his face, reaching out and taking Fred's hand in his, tangling their fingers.

Rondell didn't appear to be at all happy with his companion as he came forward, meeting them halfway. "Yo. What is she doing here?"

He never was one to mince words and Charles, suddenly tired of games of race, class, loyalty, and species, only brought Fred closer to his side Looking down on Rondell, his eyes glinted with challenge. "She's with me."

Three words. In the past that was usually all that was needed. Charles Gunn spoke and that commanded respect.

But a lot had changed and Rondell only shook his head angrily. "We said YOU, Gunn. Not her. We don't need her."

"I need her." The words were said quietly and with conviction. Feeling Fred's wondering glance burning on his face, Charles continued; at the moment he wasn't sure if he was lying or telling the truth. "You want me, you take her, cause there ain't no way in hell I'm doin' anything or leavin' anyone without her."

"So it's like that, huh?"

"Yeah. It's like that."

Rondell shook his head, almost in disgust. "Charles Gunn - went and got all whipped because of some little whi-"

The words were never allowed to be finished as a female voice shouted out a warning and suddenly the previously cleared warehouse and alley was filled with vampires and fleeing teenagers.

"Charles!" Gunn immediately pushed Fred behind him, ducking when he was met with a punch and launching back one of his own, sending the vampire back.

A flurry of red hair and black leather pushed past him, before a stake buried into the vampire's chest, and he exploded. Charles, breathing hard, shared a long look with the assailant until Justine scoffed, "Shouldn't you be taking care of your girlfriend?"

Immediately Gunn remembered Fred, jerking his head back. "FRED!"

"Charles!" Fred was cornered now, a shovel in her hand, warding off two of the demons herself, who had deemed her easier prey.

Cursing, immediately Charles ran forward, only to be beaten by Rondell. The vampire was quicker than he thought and suddenly Gunn, distracted by another who had kicked into his gut, watched helplessly as Rondell was tripped, landing on his back, banging his head on the hard concrete.

"Rondell!"

The young man lay stunned and Charles kicked under the legs of the vampire who had him, pushing him towards Justine who made short work of him, before moving on. But before the vampire could finish what he had started, a long swipe and a swoosh ripped through the air and before a stunned group's eyes, the beheaded demon imploded.

Stunned, a panting Rondell met Fred's eyes, mouth dropping open on shock.

Holding on to her trusty shovel, Fred gave a shy shrug, pushing her glasses up her nose and remarking to Gunn, "Beheading still works, right?"

At her upturned face and flushed cheeks, Charles burst into a smile, coming forward to offer her a hug as Justine assisted Rondell up. Even post fight, the redhead still wore the scowl, her eyes affixed to Gunn and Gunn only.

"Damn. That girl got game," Rondell muttered and apparently the rest of the teenagers agreed when they offered Fred a set of applause and a couple of admiring whistles amidst the laughter that followed.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"Damn. Little Fred got herself her stripes!" Faith looked genuinely impressed.

Fred, with a blush and a grin, offered her a shrug. "It wasn't all that much. I had been watchin' enough of those trainin' sessions to pick up SOMETHIN' and Gunn had showed me some quick moves before."

"Mmhmm." Cordelia looked more than a little knowing as she nodded her head. "Beat Wesley to the punch, did he?"

Fred looked slightly confused. "Beat Wesley to what punch?"

Kate and Faith both swiveled gazes onto Cordelia and the Seer, suddenly realizing she said something that perhaps shouldn't have been mentioned, coughed on her soda. "Uh... nothing."

Faith's dark eyes glittered dangerously. "You wouldn't be saying you think he still -"

"Hey! I said NOTHING. NOTHING, you get it?"

"What's nothing?" Kate asked. Her glance from Faith to Cordelia's reddening face to Fred's blank one answered her question. "Ohhh." Shifting uncomfortably, she edged away from Faith's hostile form. "I'm sure it's nothing," she agreed hastily.

Fred still appeared completely oblivious to the other girls attempts to ignore the impending conversation. "What's nothing?"

"Fred, why'd you give Wesley the nose beater?" Faith said, suddenly whipping her head to hers.

Fred blushed slightly, rubbing at her knuckles. "He pissed me off?"

The was a pause as the words processed through the Slayer's head and suddenly her face convulsed in what seemed like three emotions at once before she muttered an angry curse and immediately launched off her chair.

Cordelia, also offering a rather unlady-like swear and in a remarkable show of bravery - or an incredible act of stupidity - reached for her palm and latched on tightly. "You don't know the whole story, Faith."

"I don't need it."

"Fine, geez." Raising her arms in mock surrender, Cordelia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she blocked Faith's escape. "At least finish your story before you kick his ass, though. 'Cause I need it." Never taking her eyes off Faith's defiant face, she said firmly, "Kate? A little help here?"

Kate was slightly dazed. It took a few seconds for the scene to make sense but when it did, she sucked in a gulp of air and stumbled to her feet. There wasn't any way Faith was leaving NOW. Kate was way too engrossed in the story to have them cut out now because of a suspicious and jealous Slayer. "I'm with Cordy." Reflecting on that statement, she glanced at the Seer in wonder. "Wow. That's a first."

"Shut up, Kate."

"Umm... did I say something wrong?" Fred looked visibly nervous, hands on her lap contritely as she looked up at the three standing women with eyes of a lost child.

Faith was stone cold silent, her eyes flashing with a glint of anger, but her deep, audible sigh made everyone relax slightly as she turned to Fred and said in a softened tone, "No, Fred. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just a fucking emotional wreck because of that bastard, that's all."

"Oh." Fred pursed her lips, pulling her knees up under her body so she could sit on her haunches. "If it helps, I think we all are."

"Oh yeah. Helps tons," came the dry reply.

--

Thursday Evening - Cordelia's Apartment

She wore the strappy red heels that clicked on the wooden floor, shoes she knew for a fact Dennis hated. The ghost hated loud shoes and almost always turned the radio dial to some ungodly heavy metal station in defiance.

The first time she had worn the shoes, things had gotten slightly ugly and after the second incident, Cordelia had taken to slipping them on as soon as she walked out the door so as not to upset the ghost.

"Dennis! See? Not putting them on!" Carefully, Cordelia padded barefooted to the entrance, placing the shoes next to the doorway, pointing at them to make sure her invisible roommate could see. "No clicking noise at all!" With bated breath, she waited. The radio station stayed on easy listening and she breathed a discernable sigh of relief.

Walking back to the dresser, she chose a small set of beads - the perfect compliment to the red dress with the spaghetti straps that she had chosen for the night of dinner and drinks. Putting simple diamond earrings in each ear, Cordelia paused to view herself and allowed one smile in memory. This dressing up - it felt good. The dress and the make-up... her hair slicked and combed, not haphazardly tossed back in a messily put together ponytail, but carefully combed into an intricate bun, positioned low on her neck... Preparing to spend the night on the town with beautiful girlfriends, young and gorgeous, this was normal for her.

Normal and off at the same time.

The smile drifted off her lips as she studied herself, with the dark eyeliner and beautifully lined lipstick. Even now, dressed upscale, with painted toenails and wearing expensive cologne, there were signs that did not escape her; constant reminders that this night was a farce. The dress she wore was from Angel's `I'm sorry I fired you' collection. The beads had been a present from the vampire as well. The perfume delicately applied to every hotspot on her body - a Christmas gift from Lorne. Even the clasp that held her hair together had been a gift from the boys, picked out by a surprisingly tasteful Fred. Facets of her life, bleeding into her fantasy, and the ultimate kicker of this all - she wasn't looking forward to this at all.

A night with girls she barely knew - had only known from acting classes - discussing superficial things like movies and guys' asses all had a time and a place, and Cordelia herself never minded such talk - for a short period of time at least. But she knew, even now, that her mind would drift and her thoughts would turn to Angel, to Connor, to her family.

She had seen less of them than usual in the past few days and that pained her more than she wanted to admit. Missing Angel's presence, missing Fred's smiles and ramblings, Wesley's British toneless meanderings, and Gunn's grins of utter confidence.

She should call them. Just call them and stop worrying.

"I'm sure it's all fine, Cordelia," she muttered, taking the fat brush and running it over her cheek bone. "He's fine. Stop being paranoid. Dennis, am I being paranoid?"

Her answer was the sudden change to Garbage on the radio.

Slamming down the brush, she gave the air in her room a glare. "Rhetorical question, nimrod!" Shaking her head she let out an exaggerated huff before finally just stalking to the phone and punching in numbers. It rang once, twice, three times, before a voice finally came on.

Her heart skipped in spite of herself and her tone was more than a little breathless as she began to speak. "Angel?"

There was a long silence, before the vampire answered. "Cordelia."

"My God, you actually picked up your cellphone? Stop the presses!"

"What do you want?"

The blunt tone was something she was unused to, and her smile faltered. "I was just... calling to check up."

"Everything's fine."

"Oh." He was dead silent, and Cordelia found herself scrambling, attempting to search for a topic. "Well... how's Connor."

"He's fine."

Again with the silence. She began to ramble. "Well, I was just wondering because, I was going to go out tonight, but if you needed help or just wanted to hang out, then maybe -"

"We're fine, Cordelia. I'm actually busy tonight. Doing... things. Have fun. I'll see you later."

"Wait, Angel -" The phone clicked, indicating he had already hung up.

Cordelia blinked, stunned, and took a hard look at the phone, as if trying to understand exactly what the hell happened to her. "Did Angel just hang UP on me?"

Pounding at the door startled her out of her thoughts and Cordelia, still glaring at the phone, moved quickly, grabbing her purse and turning the knob.

She had opened it a foot before it slammed shut again, making her jump back.

"Dennis?! Stop that!"

Again she attempted to open the door, again Dennis forcefully shut it again.

"DENNIS!"

"Cordelia?! What the hell is up with your door?"

The voice on the other side sounded suspiciously familiar and, closing her eyes, Cordelia prayed that it would not be who she thought it would be, because that would INDEED be the PERFECT end to a PERFECT day.

"Faith?" she asked trepidly, pressing against the peephole to find that it was, in fact, the Slayer. "Of course it is," she muttered.

"You wanna let me in?"

"My ghost doesn't like you," Cordelia responded flatly. "Not that I'm questioning his lack of trust mind you."

"Well, tell him to get over it. It's important."

"Right. Sure. You know, I'm sure Dennis will REALLY get OVER it considering the LAST time you came in here you gave me a HELL OF A BLACK EYE AND KIDNAPPED WESLEY!"

"Damn." The muttered curse at the other side of the door made Cordelia smile and she crossed her arms smugly. "Look. I promise I won't hurt you. Allright? Fucking happy now?"

"Yeah. That makes me trust you."

"Cordelia, what the fuck do you want me to do? Do a little dance? I need to talk - I need help. That's what you do, right? Help people?"

Cordelia inwardly winced. "Why the hell does everyone always throw that back at our faces? We don't help EVERYONE."

"Angel said you'd understand." The tone was different and it caught Cordelia's attention, making her look toward the door in silent contemplation. The voice was broken, sad... different. Just... different.

It was making her severely question her judgment.

"Damn me for growing a conscience," she muttered. Louder, she said, "Fine. But you have to convince Dennis."

"Tell that damned ghost that if he doesn't let me in I'm going to bring a Catholic priest here and I'll exorcise his ass -"

"You wouldn't DARE!"

"TRY ME."

The door was flung open to reveal a smiling Faith, crossed arms, glaring at the ceiling. "There. Nice to know we have an understanding."

The Seer gave the Slayer an exasperated glare. "Way to get on my ghost's good side, Faith."

But Faith didn't seem inclined to begin a petty argument, or any type of discussion at all. Her dark eyes only glanced over Cordelia's hostile form and with a frown and a slump of her shoulders, she stepped into the apartment, pushing past her. "People are going to think crap no matter what the fuck I do," she muttered. "Doesn't matter anymore."

"Where the hell did you learn to give guilt trips? My mother?"

Cordelia closed the door, closing her eyes as she shook her head, defeated. Faith paused, in the middle of sitting on the couch, offering Cordelia a hard glare.

"I don't want your sympathy, Chase. I just needed a place to crash. I didn't want to be at that hotel right now."

Cordelia blinked, suddenly confused as she crossed her apartment floor, looking down at Faith. "Huh? Why?"

"Angel's gone into brood mode, that crazy taco lady has taken off with that cute black guy - and... I don't trust anyone that reads auras."

"Wait, back up. Angel's gone into brood mode?"

"Worse than when he was with Buffy." Faith made a face. "Has anyone told him how BORING that is? Shit."

There was something missing about Faith's tone. There was no edge. A harshness had lifted, now replaced by conflict and sadness. Cordelia, unsure how she picked it up, instead found her mind moving to Angel, fixing the incident on the phone to Faith's judgment call.

Something was very wrong here. "He hasn't brooded in forever."

Faith didn't answer. Her eyes were instead on her hands, carefully picking at her fingernails, avoiding Cordelia's gaze.

The more Cordelia thought about it, the more worried she got, and the more worried she got, the more convinced she was that Angel was hiding something. Angel was hiding something from HER.

"Not again," she sighed, running tired hands over her face, across her eyes, ending at her temples.

Another knock came and this time Dennis opened it immediately.

Wesley stepped in, hands dug deep into his pockets. "Cordelia, I was hoping Angel was here. He seems to have gone missing and..." Stopping immediately, Wesley's eyes caught Faith's startled form.

The pair shared an intense, uncomfortable gaze, one that Cordelia never noticed; her mind too absorbed in replaying the last two days events in her rapidly whirling mind. "Wesley, have you seen much of Angel?"

Thankfully jerked away from Faith's form, Wesley attempted to give her his attention, and found his mind instead rebelling, turning back to wondering why Faith was HERE of all places. "Pardon?" he managed.

"Angel. Have you seen him?"

"Not really, no. I was hoping he'd be here with - what is Faith doing here?"

"Free country, English," Faith tossed back, standing up slowly.

"Right, whatever... He's hiding something." Shaking her head in sudden anger, Cordelia grabbed her coat, sliding it on. "I'm going to the hotel."

She was leaving?!

"WHAT?!" Wesley openly gaped, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights as he helplessly watched Cordelia head to the door, grabbing her heels along the way.

"I'm borrowing your bike, Wesley. Hitch a ride with Faith."

"With FAITH!?"

"Cordelia, I don't have a car - COR!" Panicked, Faith tried to run after her but her feet seemed to have frozen to the floor and stuck to Cordelia's increasingly sticky floor, Faith and Wesley both watched in helpless horror as Cordelia shut the door, locking it behind her.

When Dennis cut off the radio, there was only the uncomfortable silence that loomed between them both.

--

--

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thursday Evening: Cordelia Chase's Apartment

--

There were very few times when Faith felt any actual URGE to panic. Usually, when trapped in a dangerous situation, she felt elated. Her heart would begin to pump, a smile would grace her perfect lips, and with a glint in her eyes, she would confront the situation with sex appeal and violence.

Now, all she felt was fear. Never in her life, had she ever felt such an adverse reaction in her soul, as she did when she laid eyes on her tall Ex-Watcher, in an empty apartment, save for one ghost. Breathing became erratic, her chest became constricted, and everywhere Faith looked, there was no escaping him, no escaping the feelings.

THESE DAMN FEELINGS.

Guilt, nausea, memories of what she had done, of his lips on hers, of his hand striking her face, all flooded her now. A dark gaze studied her, eyes that were now unreadable but in the past she had seen them dark with fear, intense with desire, and fiery with anger.

Suddenly, she wanted to know him. Wanted to know every shade, every emotion that flickered through those eyes. Her fingers were suddenly itching to reach up, peel the glasses from his face and wonder if she would ever see some sign of affection glittering in those eyes. The inward admission almost made her gag, as her eyes closed against her betraying thoughts and then opened to find the door waiting invitingly.

FUCK. What the hell was wrong with her? A few years and Wesley had grown up. Big deal. He wasn't her `lay and leave' type, and she knew there was NO way he would ever -

WHAT THE FUCK WAS SHE DOING?!

"Find your own ride home," she spat, whirling and striding as quickly as she could to her exit. "I'm leaving."

"Where Faith, to Holtz?"

The magic word. Faith froze, body wavering, momentum tried to pull her forward but instead her foot stepped back, her body turned, and she leveled a gaze on him that was startled with surprise.

In a gruff attempt to keep his voice level, Wesley pulled off his glasses, reducing her to a foggy blur as he continued while he had the advantage. "I told you I would find out, Faith."

She was silent at first. When the glasses came back on, and she back into focus, he found the surprised gaze now exchanged for one that was much more familiar. Hard, unyielding, full of defiance - a mask. FAITH'S mask.

Throwing him a careless glance, she shrugged, tossing her chin up in challenge. "So what Wesley? You know. What the fuck are you going to do? Tell Mommy and Daddy on me? If you haven't noticed, they're a little too obsessed to care."

He remained quiet. Wesley knew better to answer at this moment; indeed, he wasn't sure he could have answered if he wanted to. At the moment all concentration was on her reaction, on the moves and gestures that could have easily been mistaken for anger, hate, careless morality.

Until the faint tremble of her jaw gave her away; the moist fog over her brilliantly sparkling dark orbs revealing just how close she was to breaking down, just how scared. She was dangerous like this; out of her element, scared, and when it came down to this kind of raw emotion - feelings she, in particular, had never learned to check - who wasn't?

"What?" she demanded, coming forward. Her eyes locked on his own and standing tall she looked into his face, her warm breath falling on his skin in tufts. "Say something, you fuck. Or are you scared? Scared I'll jump you? Scared I'll fuck you? Scared I'll kill you? Or maybe a little of all three?"

The words, empty threats now, were fear-driven and he knew they were meant to drive him away, to put her in power, but all they did was make him smile grimly as he crossed his arms and shook his head. "I'm not telling anyone, Faith. I fully expect you to tell Angel yourself."

The remark threw her again, as she took a step back, a sneer frozen on her face. "What? I have you that scared, Wes?"

"No. I think we've established you can do nothing to me that you haven't done already." He pursed his lips. "This isn't about me at all, Faith. This is about you. I'm taking a lesson from our vampire, you see. Obsession, stalking... it does lend one to all sorts of pertinent information."

Her voice was broken, expression visibly fighting for controlled ambivalence. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Such as you've had no intention of following through with your mission since the moment you stepped into the Hyperion. Not once have you attempted to get close to the child. Not once have you attempted to seek Angel out for that purpose... and not once have you joined your little Justine on any raids."

She sucked in her breath, eyes narrowing, letting her gaze rove over him in an obvious appreciative glance of his body. "Maybe I got distracted, Wes."

He was quiet for a moment but his eyes softened and his tone, when he spoke again, was gentle. "Don't, Faith. I promise I won't hurt you. I just want to help."

Again she was taken out of her own game and forced to play one that she didn't know. The power in the conversation was suddenly shifted to her hands. Swallowing hard, her fists balled. Every impulse inside of her urged her to take the advantage, to tell Wesley to go screw himself and thereby squash every single little premonition he had about her to hell.

But his eyes were soft, even if his body was tense, and his arms were out, reaching out to HER. And there was no disgust or anger... only pure, simple understanding. The tears that stained her cheeks startled her and at first she wiped them away hastily, until more kept coming and her body began to shake.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered. Suddenly ashamed, she turned her back to him, unable to stop the trembling and angry as hell about it. He was quiet behind her and Faith was thankful for that, as she sucked in her breath and wrapped arms around her body.

"Faith."

It was quiet, but it went through her like liquid, searing over her soul. "Don't, Wes."

"Faith -"

"Just... don't." Her response was choked, frantic. Striding as far away from him as she could she sank onto the couch as her out-of-control body suddenly gave way. Her eyes closed, and she tried to close herself off to him - but she felt the sinking down of the couch next to her, the shift of weight, the permeable gaze of his eyes on her.

There was silence and in some desperate attempt to fill it, she whispered, "I didn't - I never would hurt Angel's kid. I just... I wanted to help. I didn't trust that Justine chick and I thought that if I played along..."

A hand was placed hesitantly on her back, burning warmth through her skimpy tank top and her first impulse was to throw it off. Her body betrayed her, leaning back against it, welcoming the touch. "Faith. I know."

"I never would hurt Angel. He was the only one who gave me a chance. He saw all the evil, all the hate, and then he saw past it."

"He's not the only one that does, Faith."

A small sentence, but it made the sobs come harder and blindly she turned, burying her face into a masculine shoulder. Warmth enveloped her as hands slid tighter around her and GOD it had been so long since she had been held this way. Eyes closed, she felt with her senses, tears streaking across his shoulder, bleeding into his shirt.

He held her, with a strong embrace that seemed so out of place - and yet so right - on Wesley. Faith, with her shattered heart and lonely soul, wondered if anyone else held this curious aura in their arms. A strong heartbeat pounded against her chest, resonating through her, once, twice, and as he held her, the tears subsided and her arms tightened, leaving him breathless.

Her strength, she had forgotten her strength... because when she had thrown herself in his arms she had also inadvertently pushed him back. Only now, her body feverish, did she realize her position; his position. Pulling back slightly, her eyes roved down, discovering their tangled legs and hips pressed against each other, warm heat moving between the two. A shuddering sigh came over her, as her cheek brushed against his rougher one, arms still thrown loosely around his neck.

Suddenly safe - overwhelmingly safe and no longer scared - for what seemed the first damned time in her life, Faith studied the face. Pulling an arm back slightly, her digits explored the softness of his features. His eyes were incredibly, beautifully blue, and this time she didn't fight the urge to pull off his glasses, unexpectedly gentle as she did so, careful not to poke him as she set them aside, finally able to view those blue pools closely.

She swallowed, their bodies drawn closer when he gave a soft sigh at the first finger on his lips, a gentle caress.

"Faith..." his voice was constricted, broken, and it made her smile. She was doing this to him. She was doing -

Her eyes widened as her body shifted up experimentally, feeling his reaction, the groan and the stiffening that came from his groin. It was exhilarating, coming from him. For some reason, from WESLEY, it made her burn. Her smile faltered, gaze suddenly riveted on his eyes, on his lips, on his face.

"Faith..." he tried again to get the words out, trying to say this wasn't right, that it was wrong for things to progress this quickly -

But Faith was never one for patience and when her lips pressed lightly against his, then firmly settled and buried into his parted sigh, tongue flicking through the wet depths to caress his own, his mind jolted. Thought processes were completely destroyed as a low, guttural moan ripped through his chest. Constraint gave way to instinct as one arm slid over one feminine shoulder, jerking her closer to him, and his lips slanted hotly over hers.

Faith groaned, returning every kiss as wildly as he gave it, fingers sliding down the strong column of his neck, sliding into the v-neck of his collar and pulling down. Buttons flew and he gasped, but her eyes glittered with tears as she paused.

"Faith, stop -"

She froze, reality flooding back when his arms curled around her forearms, hindering her movement. "Wes -" her voice was thick, apologetic, ashamed -

"Not fast." His tone was breathless but his hands were gentle as he cupped her face, thumbing along swollen lips, eyes now a beautiful blue as they darkened with desire. "Not fast," he whispered again, this time centimeters from her lips, hot breath sliding over the sensitized skin. Her eyes closed involuntarily when he suckled on her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth, teasing it slightly before reaching up and taking the top. He surrendered her lips for one ragged breath before slanting his head, using the better angle to thrust into her mouth slowly, languidly, with his tongue.

Her pant of startled surprise drew a smile from his mouth, still pressed against hers, and Faith gave no fight when he leaned forward. Arms slipped around a slim waist, her own legs tangling around his calves, rocking against him as she soon became trapped between the firmness of his flat chest and the yielding softness of the cushions beneath her.

The weight of him on top was gratifying. With every breath she felt his firm torso against her own chest. Amidst hard pants she gave herself completely to the feeling of his body sliding, shifting, moving against hers, as he gave her another tender kiss, followed by another, and another.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"TELL me you didn't have SEX on my couch."

Cordelia's outburst made everyone jump, her glittering eyes giving even a flushing Faith a start of surprise. "What?"

"If you had sex on MY COUCH -"

"Cordelia, I don't know if that's really - SHUT UP." Fred looked almost proud for standing up to Cordelia, abruptly annoyed at being interrupted at the REALLY GOOD part.

"Hey!"

"Yeah, shut up, Cordelia."

"It's my COUCH -"

Faith pressed a warm hand to an even warmer forehead in a desperate attempt to cool her flushed body. "Right. Well. I'm not giving you perverts the details, okay?"

Kate looked mildly put out. "Fuck."

"Hey - no use of the `F' word in front of Fred," Faith said, a mock grin on her face at her own hypocrisy.

Cordelia only closed her eyes, counted to ten, and bit her lip as she turned to Fred in a desperate attempt to get the image of Faith and Wesley on HER couch off her mind. "And where were YOU?"

"Doing Gunn." At the snorts, Fred suddenly realized her mistake and clapped her hand over her mouth. "I mean," she mumbled through fingers. "I wasn't... not with - I was doing a party WITH Gunn..."

--

Thursday Evening - A Little House in the Ghetto

"You really don't have to come with me."

Winnifred cast her friend a distracted smile as he parked the car, glancing over the small house that was loud with music. "It's okay, Charles."

He didn't look convinced as he jerked the gear into park and shifted his body, staring at her until he was completely sure he had her attention. "It's not your kind of people."

She gave him a patronizing grin. "I think I know that. But I think I managed to win a few of them over."

That earned a smile and she had to grin back, reaching over to squeeze his fingers before turning toward the door and opening it before he had a chance to argue further. When he came around, he was watching her with open appreciation, nodding to her as they walked in the direction of the house.

"You are my savior, Fred," he began, a slow smile starting on his lips. Fred glanced at his face, her features softening. He really looked good when he smiled. With the dimple on the side and the way his eyes shone, she suddenly found herself wishing for more, thinking it had all been worth it when his palm drifted over her own, squeezing hesitantly. "A bonafide hero."

"Ohh..." She offered a nervous grin, shrugging her shoulders, but thankful when he kept his hand next to hers. It was a warm hand and body heat was important. "I'm no hero."

"You're my hero, Fred." he repeated firmly.

Her face was warm - she was sure it was red as a cherry - but the silly grin that had floated to her lips seemed impossible to squelch and so she gave up, instead giving him her own brilliant smile.

"How about," he began slowly, fingers tangling over hers as he offered her a hesitant smile. "I help you paint those walls tonight. You know. After this."

The Pylean refugee stiffened, startled as she cocked her head, her face expressionless. Studying him, she finally blew out her breath, and firmly shook her head. "Not yet, Gunn."

The smile faltered. "Fred?"

"I'm still waiting," she remarked. Her eyes locked on his as she spoke. "I want to see how this story ends."

"Oh." He was quiet, walking up the cement blocks leading to the house. "You don't mind?" he asked suddenly.

"Don't mind what?" she asked, distraction in her tone as she viewed the crowded house with just a little bit of fear.

"This." He lifted their attached hands, tightening his grip as they stopped just before the stairs, facing each other. "Pretending we're together. I know I jumped it on you, but -"

"No, I - it's okay. I know why ya did, and..." she gave a small shrug, a shy smile floating onto her lips. "It's kinda fun to pretend."

His eyes locked onto hers, smile frozen on his face.

"All right, Freddie's here!"

Fred hadn't been aware she was leaning in until she leaned back, startled when she saw Rondell beaming from the top of the porch, his arms outstretched in welcome. A warm blush settled over her cheeks, tingles climbing up her spine when Gunn's warm fingers slid along the back of her shirt, brushing the hint of skin exposed there. Pretending to ignore it, she gave Rondell a nod, clasping his hand as he came forward.

"Yo man, you don't mind if I take your girl, do you? Some of the boys in there want to meet the chick with the mean ass shovel."

Fred gave Gunn a look, but he only smiled. "Just make sure you bring her back, all right?"

"It's cool, I'll take care of her."

Pulling her up the stairs, Rondell gave the redhead standing against a pillar a distracted smile, moving around her. "Get inside Justine, that's where the real party is."

Fred's own semi jubilant mood was dampened when she realized the intensity of the gaze in Justine's eyes was completely directed at Gunn. Craning her neck, her suspicions mounted when Justine stepped slowly off the porch, swinging leather clad hips down with her. Before she could view Gunn's reaction, Rondell had pulled her into the house.

Charles didn't move, hands pressed into his pockets, as Justine made her way over to him, eyes connecting with his. She was quiet for a minute before lifting up a bottle and motioning to him. "Have one."

Charles, body tight with mistrust, just glanced at it. "I'm not in the mood for a drink."

"You want us to be friends? Well, friends drink together, don't they?"

"I never said I wanted us to be friends."

She grinned at that, emerald eyes shining in the moonlight. His eyes roved to the beer, tempting in its glory. It was going to be a long night, liquor would help. Taking it from her hands, he ignored the way their fingers deliberately brushed and took a long gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste and then making a point of looking around her, trying to find Fred.

"What? Can't trust your little girlfriend?"

He narrowed his eyes, turning again to meet Justine's gaze. "I trust her. I don't trust you."

She grinned. "So we have something in common." At his answering glower, she chuckled, taking him by the forearm and pulling him up the stairs. "Let's party, Charles."

Three beers later, Charles was slightly light-headed as he pushed through the crowded house in an attempt to find Fred. The young physicist was LAST seen taking a shot of whiskey, in the midst of his hooting compatriots, and not exactly comfortable with that, Charles had tried to get to her only to be taken over by the completely irresistible urge to visit the toilet.

Another beer was shoved in his hand and Charles narrowed his eyes when he found himself face to face with that damned redhead. "Justine."

"Gunn."

"Haven't seen my little girlfriend, have you?" he asked, leaning against the wall to view the crowd.

"Not for a few minutes," she said, leaning with him. "Gotten a little chummy with Rondell, hasn't she?"

Charles shot her a glare. Ignoring the inference, he instead tried to pull his slightly drunk mind back in order, taking in a deep breath. "I'm gonna go find her -"

Her hand on his shoulder pushed him back to his previous place. "What's the rush? You're going home with her."

"I gotta take CARE of her."

"Seems like she can more than hold her own."

"Fred's FRAGILE," he declared resolutely, plonking down the beer to stare at the redhead. "She don't belong with people like us."

Justine's lip quirked. "People like us?"

Charles was quiet, eyes boring into hers as she leaned in closer, seriously invading his personal space.

"Gunn." A smaller body suddenly pressed against him, warm and familiar. Justine turned to find Winnifred Burkle - flushed and having a little trouble with her balance - glaring at her. "There you are."

Charles gave her a genuine smile, sliding a hand around her waist. "Freddie!"

"Come on..." Tugging at his hand, she pulled firmly, moving him away from Justine and sticking her tongue out at the - dammit she could say it - the BITCH, before pushing Charles into a more secluded corner of the room.

She had been furious with Charles up until about five seconds ago. Every time she had turned around there was Justine, with her red hair and stupid leather jacket, and she was hanging all over GUNN, and wasn't Charles supposed to be pretending to be HER boyfriend? It had inspired another shot and that had given Fred the courage to let Gunn have it, until she heard his little `fragile' comment.

She was NOT fragile but, then again, the concern in his voice had melted her insides. Torn between being angry and turning into a puddle of goo, Fred found herself keeping her mouth shut, not sure if she wanted to yell at him or hug him.

"Where were you?" Charles asked, his breath smelling of alcohol as he leaned forward, lips brushing her ear in an effort to be heard above the noise.

She processed the words and then leaned up, feeling his hand pressing against the small of her back to bring her even closer as she yelled in his ear. "Rondell. He kept tryin' to introduce me to people, but I kept gettin' Flintstones comments so I came to find you. What are you doin' with Justine?"

"I wasn't WITH her, she won't leave me alone!"

She blinked, tried to process the words, but for some reason her mind wasn't that quick now. "But - do you think she's prettier than me?"

"What?"

She leaned up, making sure her lips brushed the outer edge of his ear, in an effort to be heard. "Do you think she's prettier than me?"

"Pshawww... Naww!" Charles gave her a wide grin, one she couldn't help but smile back at, suddenly giddy. "She's a dog, compared to you!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She blushed, leaning still closer to him, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she looked at the room, cuddled in Gunn's embrace. The people around her were laughing, smiling and drinking and having a good time, and they didn't SEEM evil. She wanted to go home now. She hated Justine, hated Charles for making her see all these stupid shades of gray and she was pretty sure she just might have be willing to puke in the morning.

Three shots were a lot for someone who wasn't used to the drinking... and the beer didn't help.

Stupid Gunn, with his stubborn loyalty, and beautiful eyes, and beautiful smile and big hands, and funny way of talking. If the - if Cordy could say it, she could too - BITCH kept her hands off of HER man, then Fred would be just fine. The hot gaze of Justine's eyes on Charles' broad back, coupled with her muddled senses, prompted her into action.

"Fred, I think maybe we should think about heading -"

Charles was interrupted when Fred's lips pressed deliberately against his, shutting him up. Startled, he leaned back, eyes widening as he backed up a step, and Fred, undeterred, took the step with him, keeping her body brushing against his.

"Fred... Umm... I think you missed my cheek there."

"I don't miss, Charles." Slightly tipsy, she gave him a crooked smile, cocking her head as her eyes drifted toward Justine again. She saw the red-head's glower and gave her a wide grin back. Without another word, she was on her tiptoes, pressing another chaste kiss to Gunn's lips, one that quickly melted into a lazy caress as her slightly inebriated friend got over his shock and slid large hands over her tiny waist, pulling her closer into his firm, strong body.

Her moan was real as Charles' kiss became hotter, firmer, more experienced, and the ravenous little physicist was suddenly consumed with need for more. There was a thought firmly lodged into her brain at one point, wondering about the merits of alcohol and if indeed this whole relaxation of inhibitions was what was causing her tongue to do the things it was doing against Gunn's, but she pushed it away, breaking off the kiss with a gasp when his hand slid under her shirt, teasing the edge of her bra.

"Charles -" she gasped.

He blinked, eyes blurry and slightly groggy, and he shook himself. "Oh, God, Fred, I'm sorry. It's just... I've had a few beers - I don't know if I can drive -"

She considered their options and suddenly the most far fetched option seemed the only one available and... it seemed like a very nice way for two friends to pass the time ...

"Come on," her hand tangled in his, palm pressing as she moved, weaving through the crowd. She lost her footing only slightly but was still able to move, away from Justine and to a place where Gunn was just hers.

In a hallway, she pulled him to her again, lips melting against his in a hot kiss, moaning into it, body trembling against his, a delicious tingle starting up in her abdomen, a delicate fire that seemed impossible to tame. He still had his reservations, but she was past making time for that and when he broke away, she shook her head fiercely, grabbing his head with both hands and forcing it back down, keeping his lips on hers. He took the hint, pushing her back until she was pressed against the wall, body flush against his, dipping his head for another taste of her, lips moving against each other hungrily.

"Fred, what are we doin'?"

"Bein' friendly," she responded huskily, eyes locked on his beautifully dark orbs, chest heaving in long, lust-filled pants.

"Oh... `cause it sounds and feels like we're making out in a hallway at a party like two drunk teenagers."

She blinked, looking at their surroundings. Was that was they were doing? His hands burned into her hips. Her own fingers were distracting her as they moved over broad shoulders. She had never felt so free than at this moment. Charles had a glorious body, and a beautiful mind, and beautiful lips, and they were friends and suddenly this wasn't a bad idea at all...

In fact, she wondered why on earth she had never considered it before.

"Come on." She grabbed his hand again, leading him up the stairs, past a pair that was necking in much the same way and found a door, turning the knob to reveal a modest bedroom.

"Fred -"

She pulled him in, closed the door, flipped the lock, and suddenly, his lips were on hers again, hot and wet and deep and firm -

It made her shudder as his lips left hers in favor of pressing hot kisses against her jaw, her cheek, her neck. Arching against him proudly, she held on tight, a sigh sliding over her as his grip tightened, moist lips sliding gently over the column of her throat.

"God, Fred, you're so beautiful. You're so damn beautiful -" His voice was husky, deep, and it undid her. Fingers suddenly frantic, she pulled his jacket off his shoulders, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

"So're you, Charles," she whispered breathlessly, pulling him back until her calves were pressed against the back of the bed. His weight continued her descent and his eyes were dark with desire as her hands spread over his now open shirt, revealing a beautiful chest on a beautiful man.

"God..."

His lips were moving against hers and Fred lost all coherent thought.

--

Thursday Evening - The Hyperion Lobby

Cordelia's heels clicking on the marble surface signified her arrival long before her scent hit him. Watching from the staircase, Angel was quiet, never making a sound, and he considered moving into the shadows so as to avoid her detection completely. But his feet refused to obey his common sense and, instead, he stood completely still, eyes on her form.

"Angel?" She turned on one slim heel, moving to the office as she shrugged off the woven shawl and dropped it carelessly on the couch.

Her hands were adorned with only one ring, on her left hand, third finger. He swallowed down the emotion that came with the signifying clasp, hands digging in his pockets, into fists, trying to force himself not to react to the simple sight of her.

`We'll laugh', he had told her. Every night since then had been spent in contemplation; a silent vigilante guard over her tired soul and he knew now what he was doing, that he was attempting something so drastic that his heart wouldn't even allow him to speak it out loud.

He was allowing her to have her normal life.

This was her, in her normal glory. Swept up hair, small bangs shifted to the side, her make up subtle and enhancing. Perfume in every curve.

She was beautiful without him.

"Angel!"

Hazel eyes caught his and finally she saw him, hands on her hips as she shook her head slowly, crossing to the steps. With a stonewall expression, Angel backed away, pausing when she reached the top of the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone low, passive.

Her steps faltered, eyes widening slightly at the impersonal tone. "Yeah, nice to see you too," she answered dryly, shaking her head. "I'm here to ask you to cut the bullshit."

"Bullshit."

"Yeah, you know? The cutting off of phone calls, my so-called `vacation'? Little broody angstfests that everyone knows about but me?" She paused, crossing her arms, the hazel in her eyes glinting, showing her anger. "What the hell is going on?"

Her tone was no nonsense. It made Angel gulp, knowing that that tone stood for one of her talks. She had resolve during these talks, never leaving until she got an answer.

"Angst fests."

"Okay, Angel." She looked near to losing her temper as her eyes closed, a finger rubbing at a temple slowly. "Can you STOP repeating everything I say and say something original? FOR ONCE? JUST ONCE?"

Her little stamp at the edge of the sentence punctuated her aggravation. He found his eyes drawn to it. He could smell her perspiration, her tell-tale scent that told him she was young, beautiful, full of life - and that was how she should always be.

In here it was dark and humid, suffocating. In here, she cried. And she wanted to laugh.

"Angel." She was closer now, one finger sliding over his palm, hooking his thumb. The contact left him breathless, a shiver running through his body that made him shut his eyes against her image. But his imagination took over and he could still see her face in his mind, looking up at him with that pleading, willful expression she used when she was really, truly worried.

"I'm fine, Cordelia. There's nothing wrong with me. Just... go to your party." Pushing her away, shrugging her off, he stumbled around her as he moved to his room, praying that it would be enough to send her off before his resolve broke. But he knew it wasn't - it never was - she always broke through.

"Angel! Dammit -" Steps continued to follow him into his room, shutting the door behind her.

"Cordelia, just go!" he finally growled, beyond patience, beyond longing, tone near panic now as she stepped further into his room. HIS room and in HIS room was HIS BED and in HIS BED she had once lain, HIS property. HIS girl.

"WHY?!"

"Don't make me move you. I want to be alone. Why the hell can you never leave me alone?!"

The sharp tone made her flinch just a second before the hurt expression wounded her eyes, moistness pervading them. He sucked in his breath, growling softly as he turned his back to her, fingers clenching on his dresser and body jolted into his unconscious act of breathing when he forgot he didn't need to. After two hundred damn years, you'd think he'd stop forgetting.

But she made him forget so many things.

"You're shutting me out. You haven't shut me out for AGES and you expect me to just... walk away? Just like that? I'm not LIKE YOU, Angel. I don't leave."

"Then just ONCE do what I tell you. For your OWN DAMN GOOD, Cordelia. You're NOT me." His face jerked back to hers and the demon visage, fangs glistening and eyes glowing a golden yellow, peered eerily in the dark before it faded into his human visage.

Fine, he had made his point. Not human. Never human. Never normal.

"Angel -"

"Have you had the visions recently, Cordelia?"

"What?"

"The visons? Have you had them?"

"Not since the last one -"

"Why? Because you're not WITH me. Being with me causes the damn things and I'm not killing you because of them. I'm NOT. This is how we fix it."

"Fix it? You sending me away is FIXING it?"

Cordelia stood there, features frozen as the reality of the situation came flooding into her, clarity suddenly vivid as she took in Angel's obviously defensive stance. Studying the way he avoided her eyes, it all became so clear - she KNEW - he was already going forward with it.

"Oh, God," she breathed, voice suddenly small and low with disbelief. "This isn't about the visions at all, is it? You're doing it again. What you did to her. You're doing it to me."

The statements came tumbling out of her mouth and he seemed to deflate, shrink, draw into himself with every word. "Cordelia..."

"No... I can't believe you're doing this. I can't believe that this is your way of `fixing' things. You're going to push me away until you think I'm safe enough, until I can't touch you anymore."

He never denied it, instead turning his broad back on her, not allowing her to see his eyes.

"NO, ANGEL- DON'T YOU DARE. Don't you DARE!" Moving forward, she grabbed him with what little strength she had managed to keep, pulling him back and grabbing his chin, pulled it down firmly until his eyes were once again on hers. "You look at me. You look at me and you TELL me that that's what you're doing."

He swallowed and, again, he said nothing.

"You're already psyching yourself, aren't you? And no matter what I say, it's not going to change things. Because you already decided this is how it's going to be. Dammit, ANGEL -" Her fists pounded at his chest briefly, the violent act a testament to the tears that were now sparkling in her eyes, before pushing away from him to wipe at them furiously.

He could stand to be silent no longer. "Cordelia -"

"No. No. You can't say anything now. I'm too furious, too - Angel, you know nothing about me. I mean, I thought you understood that this was different. That this wasn't the same." She sucked in her breath, trying to control her erratic pants. "I'm not seventeen and I'm not blind to you, Angel. I know every one of your faults, I know everything about you. I never wanted normal, ok? I knew what it was and I gave it up. Not just for you, but for me." Her eyes were sad, suddenly heartbroken as she turned back to him, body trembling with emotion as she began to step back towards the door. "I'm not HER, Angel. I never - you know what? It doesn't matter. If you don't know me, after the last three and a half years, then it doesn't matter."

"Cordy -" The word was ripped from his throat as the desperation and turmoil that Angel had bottled up so well suddenly began to bubble, began to burst up inside of him. Demon and soul both raged in conflict and he could keep silent no longer. He wanted so badly to refute her claims, to say that he DID know her, that he knew everything about her and LOVED everything but the words wouldn't move past the lump in his throat and his feet were frozen in place. When she reached the door, however, suddenly he was able to move and with that vampiric blast of speed he threw resolve to the heavens as only one thought resonated through his entire being.

He couldn't let her go. There was absolutely no way he could watch her walk out that door. If she walked out, he died.

Fingers wrapped around one small, slim wrist and whirling her figure around, he pulled Cordelia's warm body back until she fell against his cold chest. Her eyes flashed and her mouth parted to spill her words of anger but Angel, completely past reason or the capacity to listen, stopped those words from spilling forth by placing his lips on hers, moving urgently as he drowned out any capacity for reason in his kiss.

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

"Wow." Lorne gave a sigh, leaning back against the stool and very nearly falling off of it before he remembered there was no back. "Every one was having sex at the same time?"

"We weren't having sex," Angel said tersely, shifting and scratching at the white polo shirt, his tone dark. He turned back to Wesley. "Sex on Cordelia's couch?"

"Bloody hell that's not the point!" And in an effort to get away from Angel's glowering stare, he in turn turned to Gunn. "You took advantage of a drunk Fred?"

Gunn's eyes widened and he stumbled off the chair, retreating a couple steps as they both glared at him. "I KNEW you would act like this. I wasn't thinkin'! I was drunk!"

"You took Fred to a party where there was alcohol and took her into a bedroom -"

"Look, she's twenty-three okay, dog? She's not a kid and she pulled ME up into - and that's not the point! The point is that Angel was a moron!" He pointed a shaky finger at the vampire.

Angel was rubbing at his temples with two very pointed fingers, eyes closed. "Gunn. Wesley." His voice was terse, without room for argument. "When this is over I'm taking you both outside and beating the crap out of you. You do NOT mess with Fred or Faith -"

"Right - 'cause messin' with Cordy's head is SO much simpler -"

"HEY!" Lorne waved his arms emphatically, accidentally clipping Wesley in the nose, causing the British man to whimper as he covered it to block further damage. "Oh. Sorry." Lorne gave him an apologetic grin. "Anyway - can we get back to what happens? It's not like we need a commercial break." He leaned forward. "Angel?"

--

--

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thursday Evening - The Hyperion Hotel

Her mind was flooded with emotions and over-active senses. The turmoil in her heart was suddenly pushed away as Angel pulled her to him, her chest meeting a hard body, cold hands shifting the fabric of her dress, pulling it tight.

One second ticked by, in which she was able to place her palms firmly against the unyielding chest, and stare up into the dark, wild eyes. But no words were able to come, because in the second after that, her mouth was suddenly plundered. Shock invaded her, quickly followed by a moan that was ripped out of her throat. His lips continued to feast hungrily on hers, tilting her head; hard, unyielding pressure that urged her to follow through, to lose herself in the sensation of her vampire FINALLY kissing her, FINALLY admitting to something.

In a moment of weakness, she fell, eyes closing automatically, lips parting in a breathy sigh to feel the triumph of his invasion, a cold, sleek muscle that snaked in and jolted her with arousal. Hard hands crushed her to him. There were issues with breathing. She continued to kiss him, hard and furious, turmoil sliding through her until she was certain she would burst.

Then her mind caught up with her. She wasn't sure how it had managed to worm its way into the mush that her body had become, but thoughts whispered in her ear, and all the passion that she was experienced was suddenly shifted into pure, furious anger. With a burst of strength that seemed foreign, Cordelia broke the hold, pushing him away, eyes glinting with furious emotion.

"How DARE you?" she whispered brokenly.

Angel, still taken with the heat of the moment, growled once, before the soul caught up with the demon, and he blinked, unsure of what he had done. "What?"

His hands reached for her again, but she stepped back, trembling now, so full of blind rage, all she saw was white sparks. "How DARE YOU!? You can't HAVE it both ways, Angel. You can't push me away and then kiss me the next minute. That's not how this works. That's not how you FIX things."

"Cordelia-"

She didn't want to hear the desperation in his voice. She didn't want to see the tears, or the turmoil. She didn't want to feel anything but the anger. The wounds in her heart seemed irreparable now, and so painful. The anger was familiar, it was easier to handle than the pain. She clung to it.

"No. I'm not doing this. You made your decision, you stick to it."

"Cordelia, don't walk-"

She shrugged him off, wiping fiercely at her eyes, turning her back on him. "Don't talk to me, call me, see me, until I'm done."

"Done with what?" She shuddered, her hand on the doorknob, eyes closed for one tense moment.

"I don't know. You?"

"Cordelia -"

His grip was strong. The cool slide of his fingers over her palm was almost impossible to ignore, but at this time, it nearly ripped her heart out. She pulled away again. "No, Angel! I'm helping you! We're fixing it!"

"I don't WANT to fix it like this! Not anymore -"

"Well, tough." Her gaze was cool, icy, reminiscent of a girl from Sunnydale who came to Los Angeles for riches and fame, and found a vampire instead. He faltered under it, grip loosening until she was able to slide her hand away. "Because I do, now."

The lump in her throat was painful, but it didn't compare to the ache in her heart. The disappointment seeped through her. She wondered if he could see it, the sadness in her eyes that told him he was no longer her hero. He was so close to being nothing, now. No longer proud and stoic, he slunk back, into the shadows. Cordelia moved as quickly as she could, out of sight, down the stairs, opening the doors of the Hyperion and shutting them behind her.

Outside, a black car was waiting. Heads were peeking out, and Cordelia wiped back the tears, a wide smile suddenly sliding over her face, running toward them in her heels.

"Sorry for making you wait."

Vicki, her old friend from acting class, now sporting a beautiful rock of ample size on her third finger, gave her a curious look. "You okay?"

Cordelia sighed, thanking the other girls with a glance when they moved to make room for her. "Nothing. It's my old boss, current co-worker and big pain in the ass. He's... nothing."

Vickie cocked an eyebrow. "Didn't you two have a thing? I remember Veronica saying something about that shoot you once did-"

"Oh, my God! That's right! In the leather jacket, right?" Patricia piped up from behind.

"No, we're nothing." Cordelia swallowed, eyes drifting toward the third window on the fourth floor, where she knew a being dressed in black would be watching. "Trust me. It's nothing. He's just acting... himself."

"Whatever, girl. Let's go party!" Cheers filled the tiny sedan, and it pulled away from the curb, leaving the Hyperion behind. --

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"Wait. I'm confused."

"About what?" Cordelia huffed slightly, crossing her legs as she glared at Kate, shrugging her shoulders. "Angel was acting completely in character. Big `ole skitzo."

"Nooo. I mean, I thought you left in Wesley's bike."

"Oh. Well the girls pulled up as soon as I got outside. I asked them to make a quick stop."

"Oh." Fred giggled slightly. When everyone gave her a look, she gave a small smile. "Just... a funny thought. That Faith and Wesley had an escape the whole time and neither of them knew. Just... all kind of sense of irony."

"Oh, yeah. ABOUT THAT. Was there SEX ON MY COUCH?!"

Faith just buried her head in her hands, not saying a word. Very slowly, a hand emerged, and a middle finger was very clearly shoved in Cordelia's direction.

--

Late Night Thursday - Cordelia Chase's Apartment

The smell of sex lingered. It filled her senses, a ragged sigh overtaking her as her short nails clenched into his skin, hips arching underneath him. Fingers slipped on sweat soaked skin; Wesley's lips tasted the salty tang, her low, intense moans sliding into his ear, making him shudder. His tongue bathed her shoulder, sweeping over the soft, delicate bone of her collar.

"Wesley." Her voice was broken in need, word whispered intensely. Fingers tightened around his back, sliding down, before a palm smoothed up his chest, circling a nipple, flicking it gently. The action made him groan, instinctively turn his head so that he caught her mouth with his, hot and wet and wild in his kisses. His hand smoothed over her neck, sliding down until he cupped one soft breast in his palm. Gentle on a soft bauble, squeezing a little harder, the change in pace forced her to break off the kiss in a ragged gasp. Her head fell back, chest heaving in hard, lust induced pants. Wesley swallowed hard, trying to contain his need, unable to tear his eyes away from her form; the delicate shudders, the closed eyes. Swollen lips that were parted in unconscious sighs brushed over his skin.

Her strength would leave bruises, but Wesley didn't care, bracing himself as well as he could on either side of her, wanting so desperately not to hurt her. There was no pain now, only pure, blissful agony in her beautiful features, delicate neck long and aching to be kissed. The shallow length of the couch provided little room for movement, making his muscles ache in an attempt to keep his balance. Long legs moved on either side of him, pinning him close to the wet heat of her.

"Faith," he whispered gently, eyes never moving from her face, from the parted sigh of her lips. Dark eyes opened, locked on his, and it set a reaction through him, when her hands smoothed down shuddering muscles. He caught his breath as her fingers continued their journey, reaching between their rocking bodies, touching a part of him that made him shut his eyes, tense completely against her.

"Come on, Wesley," she whispered softly, arching up against him to sweep her lips against the rough column of his neck, grating her teeth against the pulse point of his jaw. "Come on."

"Oh, God, Faith -" Panting, Faith buried her mouth into the crook of his shoulder, sucking lightly, twisting her body, and wrapping her hand around the hardness, and shifting up, tightening her grip.

He lost control. A shout was muffled when his lips buried into hers, and she clutched him tighter, arching, rocking, maneuvering as well as she could on the soft, small couch. His hands grabbed her waist, pulling her up, and suddenly he was swallowed up by warm, searing heat. A squeak emerged from the back of his throat, in conjunction with her own ragged groan.

There was silence, complete and utter stillness as she adjusted to him, eyes wide open now, staring into the dark blue of his orbs. God, she was drowning. There was a sense of wonderment in his expression, as if he couldn't believe it, and for a moment, disbelief flooded her too.

Was this really - oh, GOD -

She closed her eyes, biting her upper lip in an attempt to keep from being too vocal, too out of control. She couldn't lose control here. Her hips arched against him, prompted into moving, the invasion filling her, coming in deeper, and harder. His lips fastened to her jaw, sweat providing a lubricant for their naked bodies as they slid and slipped against each other, finding the rhythm that they both used to come closer. She grunted now, lost, utterly lost in the emotion, the pain and pleasure suddenly overwhelming her. Her hands moved up to cup his face as everything began to come together in one, blissful second.

"Wesley," she whispered, trying her damndest to hold on, even as he pulled back, thrust harder, pushing her body further into the cushion. "Look at me, Wes." His blue eyes opened, dark, brilliant and beautiful, locking on hers as his hips continued to move, push against her, driving himself deeper. She shuddered, head falling back. "Come with me, Wes. Come on-"

His lips crushed against hers, a groan buried into her mouth, as the kiss became rough, wild and tangled as he pushed harder, burying her back. Her eyes snapped shut when everything coiled inside of her released, like a python suddenly snapping forward in a strike. She clung to him, desperate for him to save her, sweat soaked skin sticking to his as she tightened around him, and everything fell to pieces. He trembled against her, murmuring words she couldn't quite make out, but they filled her with euphoria, her body suddenly spent and tired.

Wesley's weight wasn't crushing, as he collapsed on top of her, face buried in her neck. The smooth body lay still, and gratified, she kept him there, fingers tangling into the short brown hair, pressing her lips against his smooth shoulder, unable to keep from touching him again.

Silent moments crept by, before Wesley tried to move, but there was barely room. It took work to shift on the small cushion, until they were lying side by side, tired, sated... spent. Goosebumps formed on her skin, and she felt him shift against her. Turning to watch him curiously, she saw as his hand felt around on the floor, before her shoulders were encased in a brown sweater, soft cotton now covering her naked body. She smiled at him silently, and he smiled back.

She fought the sleep, if only to see those beautifully blue orbs staring into hers. Her eyes continued to close despite that, her fingers drifting lazily over little white etches on his skin, pressed her lips to them distractedly, before sleep overtook her.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"You had SEX on my COUCH?!" Cordelia's voice swiveled into an unmistakable screech, making Fred wince and Faith want to cover her ears. "SEX on my Couch. You and Wesley had SEX on MY COUCH?!"

"Uh... Cordelia..." Kate was hesitant as she lifted a hand to try to appease the pissed-off girl. "I don't really think that's the point-"

"They had SEX on my couch?! I sleep on that couch! I eat on that couch! I do not have SEX on that couch!"

"Well maybe you should start, `C," Faith said, irritation giving way to a smirk as she gave Cordelia a tired glance. "It's a very comfy couch."

"Oh, AUGH."

"You're lucky," Faith said absently. "I wanted to do it on the bed. Wesley is the one who kept it on the couch."

Cordelia was beyond words at this point, her horrified face illustrating perfectly the fact she was in the middle of a very disturbing visual.

"Cordelia," Fred said, exasperated. "We'll talk about the couch issue later."

"Yeah, so shut up." Faith snapped. "I'll pay for the damn couch cleaning, okay?"

Cordelia slumped back, closing her eyes. "I'm never going to look at my couch the same way again."

Kate blinked, and then decided to ignore Cordelia, turning back to Faith. The Slayer now had a carefully closed expression on her face. "You were saying?"

"Damn," Cordelia said, obviously disturbed. "Didja have to get SO PORNO about it? Now every time I look at that couch I'm going to be running scenes of `FAITH DOES WESLEY!' in my head."

Faith gave her a dubious smirk. "C, if you're fantasizing about me having sex, then that's something you have to deal with on your own. I'm no therapist."

--

Late Night Thursday - Cordelia Chase's Apartment

Sleep did not come for Wesley. With his arms full of a tired, naked Faith, save for the brown sweater wrapped loosely over her shoulders, he watched. A small girl, deceptively young, with her eyes closed, breath fluttering against his skin. Her fingernails, cut short, were painted a dark red, and her fingers curled, shifting absently against his chest as her long hair, silken strands, slid across his skin. She was everywhere, her weight settled into his hip, her lips, swollen with his kisses. She was asleep and peaceful, in his embrace.

She was real. With this realization, came the reality of what it was they had done. He had gone too fast. There was never any intention of letting things progress this far. Sex with Faith, less than a week after he professed, fooled himself, into thinking he hated her, in some psychological replacement for his own inadequacies... it was foolish. Stupid.

She moved slightly in her sleep, and he wondered on that... Faith was a relatively light sleeper, words were mumbled in her mouth, she continued to shift, and her face was calm. The myriad that had been her expressions earlier had been testament to Faith's inner turmoil, and something twisted inside of Wesley's stomach. He couldn't help but wonder as to the reason for this sudden peace.

Was it him? Did Faith SEE something in... Did she feel safe in his arms?

He swallowed, suddenly conflicted, the urge to panic sliding through him. Too much, too soon - he had taken too much, given what he had no right to give - a promise in a brush of skin, a touch of lips-

There was too much hurt in his touch to do a tarnished soul, a delicate heart's like Faith's, any good. Good Lord. If she believed that he could do this to her, if she believed he could save her... Then the day he fell from grace, perhaps she would lose everything. There was nothing to offer her, all he had was friendship. That was what he was prepared to give. Intimacy, complete and unadulterated, was something he had never considered.

Now here she was, and despite his well thought out reservations, his hands still moved over her skin. His eyes continued to worship her. Inner confliction gave way to a surge of possession that moved inside of him as his fingers curled around the brown sweater, wrapping it tighter around her shoulders. She mumbled into his skin, and in distraction, he brushed his lips against her forehead.

The contact startled her. She jolted awake, pushing off of him and falling to the floor, clutching the sweater to her in surprise. He sat up, heart solid in his throat as he realized, the morning after had begun.

"Faith."

She stared at him, eyes roving down to her naked body, and immediately pulled the sweater around her, stock still. "Wes..."

She was waiting, naked fear in her eyes as she watched him. It occurred to him that she was waiting for something from him, a clue as to how to respond to what they had shared. He swallowed, startled at how the beautiful brown orbs seemed so... afraid?

Oh, Lord, it had started. "Faith." His hand was gentle as he reached for her, pure concern in his face as he leaned forward, heedless of his own nakedness. "Are you all right? Did I startle you?"

She was quiet for a moment, watching him warily, but her mouth creased into a relieved smile, when his palm cupped her cheek gently. "I don't sleep well. Sorry. I didn't pound your head or anything, did I?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine."

They fell silent, unsure of how to proceed. In an effort to do anything at all, his eyes flickered to the clock, and suddenly he remembered their location. "Good Lord, Cordelia!"

"What about - Oh. SHIT." Faith stood, suddenly going through the clothing littered around the room, locating her underwear, holding it up to realize it was torn. "Damn." Throwing it aside, she reached for her leather pants, sticking her leg into one hole.

Wesley watched her as he pulled on his boxers, a pained ache in his stomach. She looked so impossibly young. Fragile. And bloody hell -

"Faith."

She paused, hair wild and unruly, framing her face in long waves.

Faith felt his gaze on her, heard the stricken, heavy tone. Suddenly everything that was missing, everything that she was waiting for with dread, came. Fear, reality - the damned Watcher had come back to his senses.

"What?" she asked, breathlessly, bracing herself, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable with his sweater hanging lewdly off of one shoulder.

"I... tonight... we shouldn't..."

Oh, GOD, he was taking it back. The fucking bastard male was taking it back. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. FUCK. It wasn't supposed to hurt this much. Eyes opened up, and they were much brighter, as she squared her shoulders and zipped up her pants, giving him a grin.

"Don't worry about it, Wes. Happens all the time. I'm on the pill."

He paused, startled, mouth parting in surprise. "Pardon?"

"What? You don't think I've done this before?" She pulled off his sweater, resisting the urge to inhale the scent before tossing it into his lap. He looked down on it, almost as if he was afraid to reach for it. She shuddered against the vision, turning her back on him, pulling on her tank top roughly.

"Faith -"

"Fuck you, Wes." The words came out before she had a chance to stop them, and she cursed, trying to control her trembling. "You had to go and ruin it. FIRST damned night I -"

"Faith, you misunderstand -"

"Oh, I never misunderstand anything, Wesley."

His hands were on her shoulders now. In a burst of violence she threw him off, pushing him back. "No, Wes. You got what you wanted -"

"I didn't WANT this."

She swallowed, the words making her soul burn. Looking into his eyes, Faith responded with a weary, "No. I guess you didn't."

She tried to turn away, but his grip was firm. Wesley's eyes flashed as he cupped her chin, pulling it up fiercely. "No, listen to me. Faith, I - "

The cellphone in hanging in his belt broke his words, distracted her. He didn't say a word, ignoring the rings, trying to gauge her reaction. The ringing continued.

"Get the damn phone," she whispered.

"Bugger the phone," he said tersely.

But the ringing continued. Eyes locked on his, she grabbed the phone from his waist, flipping it open and speaking into it. "Wesley's phone."

Wesley was silent, throat parched, heart aching. Her gaze fell from his, shoulders suddenly deflating. The reaction was unexpected. Wesley could only watch curiously and then with a sinking heart, when her eyes flashed and she tightened her jawbone.

"Hold on." With a careless shrug, she held out the phone to him. "Virginia. Says she's your girlfriend."

He blinked, staring down at the phone, looking back at her. After some silence, he took the phone, tried to beseech her silently to stay, but she used the moment he lifted the receiver to his ear to back out, turning and running for the door.

"FAITH!"

But she was gone.

"Wesley?" He cursed, putting the phone back to his ear.

"Virginia, now is not a good time-"

"Wesley, I'm in trouble."

His steps faltered, and he was frozen, sighing, eyes locked on the door. "What is it?"

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

"So let me get this straight." Charles blinked once, raising his head from his crossed arms to narrow his eyes at Wesley. "You slept with the chick, made her think that you never wanted to in the first place, DIDN'T tell her that Virginia's your EX- girlfriend, and LET her walk out? No wonder she beat your ass."

"You know, I'm thinking of adding another black eye to the ensemble, Wesley," Angel said thickly, eyes glinting with anger. "You know, maybe make it a little more even."

Wesley snorted, anger clouding his words. "Don't you bloody dare tell me about Faith. After I found you two -"

"You want to explain something, Steakboy, then maybe you can explain -"

"HEY!" Charles stood, rising to his full height while Lorne, now tired of their numerous little outbursts, only waved a manicured hand lazily in their direction. "Shut the hell up, both of you. As far I can tell, you both got some SERIOUS `splaining to do as far as your completely lack of a heart here -"

"And what the hell about YOU, Charles?" Wesley snapped, pounding his fists into the counter. "I'm curious. How DID you react to Fred in YOUR morning after?"

Charles was silent, but his shoulders slumped, and his eyes closed. "Like a dude who didn't know what the hell he was doing."

--

Friday Morning - Nameless House

The burst of light that suddenly appeared behind his closed eyelids made him wince. With a sigh and a yawn, Charles Gunn awoke slowly, moving his hands in an effort to stretch, when he was blocked by a warm, slim, shoulder.

Charles froze, eyes jolting open. Shifting slightly, he looked down, discovered a head of brown curls resting on his chest. Opening his eyes even wider, he took in a shuddering breath. His gaze roved over the head with the cheek pressed against his left nipple, and found a very bare back.

Okay, naked lady. Oh, shit. He blinked, and his eyes moved to the dresser. Thrown half hazardly on top of the mahogany, was a pair of glasses that were VERY familiar.

Oh, please don't be Fred, please, please, please.

Carefully, he reached forward, pulling the hair away from the face it was hiding, and dropping it just as quickly. Oh shit. It was Fred. Naked Fred. On top of him. Naked Fred and this was a bed, and OH MY GOD-

His startled gasp of panic caused her to stir above him, NOT a good thing, no matter how `good' it felt. He closed his eyes tight against his very male reaction.

Oh, shit, oh, shit.

She mumbled something, lips moving over his chest, before she fully woke up. Fred immediately froze.

"Charles?" she asked, in a tone that seemed hesitant, unsure and scared. Brown eyes locked with his, and he offered a shaky wave.

"Hi."

"Oh, my!" She shot up, her hand covering her mouth, leaving everything else... kinda clear. He shuffled up, trying desperately not to look, before losing his balance and flailing, falling off the bed. "Oh, Gunn! Are you okay?" Shifting over the side of the bed, she peered down at him, concern etched on her face.

"I ... um..." He blinked, and suddenly his gaze was no longer on her face. Fred looked down to see what he was staring at, and suddenly realized her topless state.

"CHARLES!"

"SORRY!" She scampered back, but the twin sized bed ran out of space. A muffled shriek, and she was in a heap on the other side.

"Ooomph!"

"FRED!" Grabbing a sheet, Charles stood, ignoring the headache to come to her aid, grabbing a sheet and tossing it over her body. "Here. Oh, god, I'm sorry."

"We didn't- did we?"

"Uhh..." he looked down, and found to his immense relief, he was still wearing jeans. "No. I'm... I think -" He grimaced, suddenly uncomfortable. "I think I have to change."

She stared at him, suddenly getting the sentence, and with the situation finally sinking in, gave a short giggle. "Sorry. I just... Oh My GOD, Charles."

Gunn sank down on the edge of the bed, glimpses of last night coming back to him. "Oh, man. Oh, man. Angel and Wesley are gonna kill me."

"What?" She was at the moment trying to find her bra, but she paused, watching him curiously.

Shirtless and wearing very uncomfortable jeans, he began to pace around the small bedroom. "I took advantage."

Confused, Fred plopped down at the edge of the bed. "What?"

"I took advantage. They'll kill me `cause you were drunk and I was kinda-"

Fred blinked, shaking her head slightly, a low laugh of disbelief coming from her. "Uh... Charles?"

"They're gonna KICK MY ASS-"

"You don't think I knew what I was doing?"

"Fred, would you have EVER kissed me in your right mind? Done what you did if you hadn't?"

"I almost have on more than one occasion," she replied hotly. He blinked, startled, mouth parted in surprise. Under his intense gaze, she blushed, looking away in embarrassment. "I shared too much, didn't I?"

"You have?"

She looked down at her hands, realized she was letting her sheet drop, and held it up against her again. "I... you wouldn't... I mean - would you..." She paused, too self conscious now to do anything but keep herself covered, as she remembered the last night. She had acted like a slut, that's what happened. Oh, God if her mother ever even HEARD -

Her eyes closed raggedly, the headache coming on slowly. Gunn's lips, and Gunn's hands, and Gunn's mouth in different places - it had all been very good...

But she had- with Gunn - oh, GOD what must he think?

A small piece of cloth and wire was placed in her hands, followed by a shirt. Eyes opening, she found his face staring up at her as he kneeled before her, shirt she distinctly remembered pulling off, hanging loosely now from his shoulders.

"I never would have kissed you, Fred," he said simply, "Because, I thought there was no way in hell, you would have kissed me back."

Fighting the hot warmth that crept over her cheeks, Fred smiled, looking down at the bra, underwear, and various other pieces of clothes that Gunn had collected.

"Oh, my... I really am naked, aren't I?"

"Uh... yeah. I'll try not to look."

"Charles!" Slapping his arm lightly, a warm giddy sensation overtook her when he grinned sheepishly, dutifully turning away so she could dress herself.

When she was suitably covered, she coughed lightly. He turned, averting his eyes and looking tense. The moment was gone, reality now having to be faced. "Come on."

Reaching for her hand, he pulled her out of the room, taking a look down either side of the hallway.

"Charles-"

"Let's get out of here."

"Yo! Gunn!" Frozen, Charles swallowed down a groan at the familiar voice behind them. "Damn, kids! Don't you have your own place to screw around?"

Fred clung to his hand, holding on tight as they both turned to face Rondell. "Yeah... sorry, man. We kinda got carried away, there."

Rondell grinned. "It's cool! Kinda like old times, right?"

Old times? Fred shot Gunn a scathing look, and he grinned sheepishly, avoiding her gaze. "Right, well... see ya!"

"Don't forget about tomorrow, dog!"

"Yeah, sure!"

Fred allowed herself to be led, curious eyes on Charles as they stepped into the morning air, shuffling quickly to the truck. Without a word, closing the door and climbed in beside her, blowing out his breath with a ragged sigh. The earlier, small window of security was now broken. That was clear, because Charles Gunn said not a word as they drove home.

Fred kept her hands in her lap, and in an effort not to keep shifting, kept her gaze straight ahead, her, mind running incredibly fast. The repercussions of what she had done were not beyond her. She knew what had happened, that she had instigated it, and it was also clear that it was the last thing she should have done, considering Charles' shaky loyalty within Angel Investigations. But she trusted him. Odd, but she did. She knew somehow, she was still safe. But if she had ruined this, ruined his confidences, especially in this crucial moment...

"Gunn..."

"Yeah."

"What's tomorrow night?"

His jaw ticked slightly, a sure sign he didn't want to tell her.

"Charles," she pressed, her chest tightening at his obvious confliction.

He was quiet, but finally, he answered. "Meeting Holtz."

"Oh." Fred glanced at him, hurt in her voice. "You weren't going to tell me?"

"Fred, I..." he swallowed, shrugging his shoulders. "What if something goes wrong? You know? What if something goes wrong and Holtz-"

"Charles, what do I have to do to prove myself to you?" she finally burst, her tone troubled, angry. "I do everything I do, and it's still not enough to you. Will it - what will I - nevermind," she mumbled, pushing her glasses up her nose. She didn't want to admit that her eyes were burning with unshed tears, that she felt completely stupid, and idiotic for doing what she did. This was Gunn. She should have known better.

The truck pulled to a stop, and with a glance, she realized they were at the hotel. Refusing to look at him, she fumbled with the lock. A large hand on hers stopped her. The contact of his skin on hers made her tingle, forcing her to take in a haggard breath.

Carefully, Gunn pulled her chin back to face him, and gently, softly, he kissed her. Her lips moved against his slowly, melting into a lazy caress that sent a breathy sigh through her. When they pulled apart, his eyes were shining, but full of serious conviction. "You listen to me, Fred," he said gently. "You don't got to prove yourself to anyone. You hear me? No one."

She swallowed, giving him a long glance. "Are you going to tell Angel?"

He froze, moving back. "I don't think so."

"I think you should."

"I thought we already had this conversation."

"I thought you listened."

"I thought I told you to get off my back about it!"

She narrowed her eyes at the snap, and anger ripped through her. No longer in the mood to argue with the stubborn man, she pushed open the truck door and slid out. "Do what you want, Charles. You stopped listening to me a long time ago."

She shut the car door, and watched it drive off, a sinking feeling in her heart.

--

--

CHAPTER NINE

Friday Afternoon - Cordelia Chase's Apartment

Cordelia had to hand it to the damned vampire. Leave it up to him, to do the exact opposite of what she had expected. Cordelia was at her absolute wit's end. She knew that Angel had this strange habit and penchant for brooding, yes. But in all honesty, the stalker-y thing truly never appealed to her.

She had been furious with Angel. She was still furious, MORE THAN furious with Angel, and yet every time she turned around, there he was. His damned puppy dog face, staring out at her from shadows, she heard his voice on her answering machine, her cellphone voicemail. It got the point where she thought she was hallucinating, stepping out from the bathroom at the night club and seeing the swish of a trench coat moving into the shadows.

He had done it countless times; Angel was known for being more than a little overprotective, sure. But she had never been so aware of it, his dark eyes watching from the corners, blending in, a dark, haunting face nagging at her at every turn.

"Cordelia, isn't that your boss?" Even Vicki had pointed it out, seeing him at the edge of the bar, staring at her with mournful eyes. Cordelia had denied it, knowing what Angel needed was for her to acknowledge his presence, to become furious enough to take him outside, talk to him, deal with him. That was what he wanted: validation: acknowledgement that he still meant enough to her, for her to become angry. He was out to prove something - that this wouldn't work. That she couldn't `fix' things this way.

WELL DUH! Of COURSE she couldn't fix things this way - that had been her whole POINT back at the damned hotel, wasn't it? Angel was stubborn, that was true, but Cordelia knew how to play games, and although she had never played them with him, she was now furious enough to try. The vampire with his stupid soul had put her through enough heartache. Now it was his turn to see how it felt to get frozen out.

During the night, Cordelia put most of her efforts on ignoring Angel's presence. At one point, it had occurred to her that she was quite sure she had never held this much affection in Angel's heart before, to have this power over him. To be able to ignore him, to be able to prove that he couldn't live without her, would have required some acknowledgement on both their parts that they meant that much to each other - they couldn't be without each other.

It would mean that there was love, and GOD, the LAST thing she wanted to admit was that. It had gone unspoken for so long, and it was nice that way. The almost knowing, the almost believing - the waking up in each other's arms in the not quite platonic way, never acknowledging that two creatures were `in love'; it was safe. She didn't want love. She was terrible at loving someone, terrible at being `in love', and she knew for a fact, Angel had more than proven that he was no Cyrano at this relationship stuff either. With a `relationship' came this: fighting, ignoring, proving points and finding ground.

This relationship SUCKED.

Pushing back the pain, Cordelia walked up the cement stairs leading to her apartment, listening to Vicki's nice, but overly chatty voice, with a slight headache.

"And Rick does want an August wedding, but I've always had my heart set on June, you know?"

She gave her a distracted smile, fishing for her keys in her purse.

"You sure you don't mind if I use your bathroom?"

"No, it's totally fine, we did have a few of those martinis," Cordelia admitted, pushing against the door, whispering hurriedly under her breath for Dennis to behave.

"You gotta admit, you had a good time."

Oh yeah, great. Listening to hours on end about stage sets, and who was sleeping with who, and how Vicki had fallen down the stairs in the set change and they had to use the stunt double to do her wave - and did she mention about the budget costs? Cordelia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. It had taken all her gumption, not to tell all the little vain `prissies' to shut the hell up before her head exploded.

She had to admit, there was some longing for the happy ignorance her group of actress friends collectively shared. Oh, for the days when all she thought about, was which producer was the hottest, and getting into `character'. Beat the hell out of wondering how on earth she and Angel could pursue a romantic relationship without him turning evil, or if the next vision would make her head implode.

"I did have fun. It was nice to get out, but I have to tell you, I'm more looking forward to that stripper you promised - Faith."

Cordelia paused, suddenly focused on the dark-haired girl in the black pants and black tank top, shifting restlessly, sitting at the dining room table.

Standing up, Faith gave her a grim look. "Hey, `C."

"Hi..." Cordelia looked puzzled. Suddenly remembered her friend, when Vicki squeezed her shoulder, she blinked. "Oh, right. Vicki, this is Faith. We're... old high school ... somethings. Kinda."

"Oh, hi!" Vicki stepped forward, shaking Faith's hand emphatically. "Love the look! Is that tattoo real? I totally wanted to get one, but my dad would have killed me, and now Rick's not into them, but I did want to sneak one on my back, like Cordy's. Have you seen it? It's really cute, right? I mean, I thought about it, but wouldn't it hurt? And what about when you get old, don't you think it'll be weird to have it on you when you're like, sixty? Especially on your arm like that? Well, I mean, if it's real?"

Faith's eyes were glazed over, and she stared at Cordelia helplessly for an explanation.

"Bathroom's over here, Vicki," Cordelia said, pushing her friend toward the desired direction.

"You hung out with her all night, and you didn't kill her?" Faith asked darkly.

"And an afternoon," Cordelia answered tiredly, holding up a shopping bag. "Wedding souvenirs. Anyone who says I'm no philanthropist is on crack."

Faith gave her a small grin. "Right, always ready to help the pretty, rich and the famous?"

Cordelia sighed, setting down her bags. That done, she was finally able to give the Slayer a questioning glance. "What are you doing here, anyway? Did you ever leave? And how'd you get in?"

Faith sank down on the sofa, shifted uncomfortably on it, and suddenly sprang up, moving away from it. "I needed a place to crash, for a while. Dennis let me in."

Cordelia shot the air a look. "You let her in?"

"We have an understanding," Faith said quickly, and offered no further explanation.

Cordelia's eyes rolled to the ceiling, making a mental note to talk to her ghost about his lax `letting psycho killers into the house' rule. "What about the hotel?" she asked frankly. "I mean, that IS where you're staying, right?"

"Are you kidding? First of all, the green guy insists on trying to get near me, and if he even thinks about reading me, I'm tearing off those damn horns and sticking them up his ass. Secondly, that little crazy taco chick- what's up with that anyway?- she's all sulking in her room, and when she's not, that damn baby's crying, and Angel isn't even AROUND-"

"I know, he's stalking ME," Cordelia said, peering out the window.

"He's what?"

"Likes to do that once in a while, puts him back in touch with his inner Angelus, or something, I don't know."

There was something that Cordelia wasn't telling her, but never one to really pry, and at this moment too conflicted to care, Faith was perfectly happy to let secrets stay secrets. There was no way in hell she was spilling what SHE did last night, or who she did, for that matter.

Cordelia was still at the window, hazel eyes roving around the street, torn between need to see Angel skulking, and the urge to kill him if he was. "Speaking of fellow employees, where's Wesley?"

"HUH?"

Cordelia turned, startled when Faith suddenly jumped to her feet. "What?"

"What?!"

"Wesley, nimrod."

"What about Wesley?!" Cordelia paused, eyebrow cocking as the Slayer suddenly crossed her arms, a hostile gesture, emotion flashing in her dark orbs.

"What's with you?"

"Nothing. I don't know where the fuck Wesley is, okay? Damn."

"Okay, Drama Queen, take a pill." Cordelia replied dryly. "You don't know where he is, geez. What'd you do, beat him to bloody pulp again?"

"Cordelia, fuck off."

Wow, she was really pissed. On what had to be pure instinct, because if she had actually stopped to THINK, Cordelia would NEVER have actually STOPPED the ex-killer from LEAVING, the Seer stepped forward. "Faith, hey! What's with the attitude!"

"Why the hell do you care?"

"I don't know. Maybe because there's only ONE of us here allowed to be emotionally constipated, and I like that it's me."

The words sunk in as Faith paused. She couldn't help but smirk at the self absorbed logic. This chick was one-of-a-kind, that was for sure. Suddenly not as furious with herself, or the damned Queen, Faith gave her a look. "Well, wouldn't dream of usurping THAT title from you."

"Damned straight." Cordelia gave a slight grin.

Faith sucked in her breath, ignored the trembling of her insides. In a slow voice, she said thickly, "Wesley's with his girlfriend, last I heard."

Confusion flitted over Cordelia's features. "Wesley doesn't have a girlfriend. He doesn't even have a life. He's got a DVD player and a subscription to an adult video store."

Faith, suddenly riveted by the first sentence, forgot everything else. "Then who the hell is Virginia?"

"Virginia? Ohh... she called?"

"Who the hell is she?"

Cordelia's eyes darkened in thought. "Wesley's Ex. She was nice and everything, but she dumped him."

"She what?"

The telephone rang, breaking up the conversation. Cordelia sucked in her breath, staring at the receiver as if it were some kind of roach. It continued to ring.

Faith waited impatiently, glancing at the cordless. "Cor? You wanna get that? It's getting annoying."

"I'm not getting it."

"What?"

"It's my stalker. I'm not getting it."

Faith, confused beyond belief, finally just decided to wait. The ringing ended (FINALLY) and the machine picked up.

"Hi," the answering machine began in a tinny voice that sounded like Cordelia. "You've reached the line of Cordelia Chase. If this is Angel- I told you not to call, you big undead bastard. Leave me the hell alone. If it's anyone else, please leave a message at the tone. Beeeeeeeeeeep."

Faith cocked an amused eyebrow, smile faltering when she heard the harried message that followed.

"Cordelia, it's me. Pick up. We need to talk. Look, I know you're mad, okay? I get that, but we NEED to talk. I screwed up, I admit it. But you can't just shut me out!"

The harried voice belonged to Angel, that was obvious. Faith crossed her arms, sending a questioning look to Cordelia. The woman in question, to her credit, didn't even seem to be listening, much more intent on studying her manicured nails.

"Look- PICK UP. I know you're there. That's it, I'm coming over."

Cordelia wore a carefully closed expression as she walked purposefully to the machine, reached down, and pulled out the telephone cord.

"Damn. What the hell did he do?"

Cordelia blew the bangs off her face, shrugging hurriedly. "Suddenly I feel like a drink. Away from here. Interested?"

"It's like, five."

"So? When has that stopped you?"

There was a fragile balance in Cordelia right now, some weird emotional state. Faith recognized it immediately. Little Miss Priss was about ten seconds away from breaking down into either hysterical sobs or going into some little hissy fit. Faith was in the mood for neither. Besides, sitting on Cordy's couch was kinda weird. It brought back some memories and made her just a little turned on, and it made her want to track that bastard down and kill him -

And what the FUCK was this ex-girlfriend doing calling HIM?!

"Yeah. I'm good for getting out of here."

The flush of the toilet took both of their attentions off the subject at hand.

"Shit. Vicki."

"She's really psyched about getting married?"

"Oh yeah. It's disgusting."

"I can imagine," Faith replied, registering her distaste with a grimace. "I'll take care of it."

At Cordelia's answering quirk of her eyebrow, Faith just winked. "I can creep people out in ten seconds flat."

"I'm timing."

"Wow! Cordelia, that bathtub is gorgeous!" Vicki threw a thumb back towards the bathroom. "I mean, I had a friend, Tara, she had a beautiful one, but she said the porcelain would splinter, and it would be hard to clean, you know? And-"

"Hey, Vicki. Question. What do you do?" Faith asked, her eyebrow arching suggestively as she walked forward. There was something in her stride that threw the slim girl off. Threatening, and yet there was nothing that could prove Faith had any intention of hurting her, it made Vicki smile nervously.

Cordelia sank down on the couch, crossing her legs as she watched.

"I'm a soap actor," she answered, stepping back unconsciously. "Days of Our Lives. Do you watch?"

"Not really, no." Faith smiled. "Didn't really have a chance, where I came from."

Seeing where this was going, Cordelia cocked her head, somewhat amused.

"Oh? Where do you come from?" Vicki asked politely.

"I'm actually a killer just released from the pen," Faith said matter-of-factly, smile broadening at Vicki's stunned face. "Got off on good behavior. Haven't killed someone in five months! Going for six now!" Flashing the stunned actress a thumbs up, she crossed her legs, moving down next to Cordelia with a self-satisfied expression on her face. "Another month and I get a chip!"

"We're all very excited about it," Cordelia added dryly.

Vicki's mouth still seemed to be hanging open, her fingers tightening on her shopping bags as she looked from Cordelia to Faith, both brunettes sitting side by side.

"Well... um... I should probably get going."

Cordelia rolled her eyes, finally taking pity on her friend. Getting up, she took a gentle hand to Vicki's elbow and steered her to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Right. Sure... um..."

"I won't bring Faith," Cordelia reassured her. Vicki broke out into a relieved grin.

"Hey, maybe you should. It definitely wouldn't be boring."

"Bye, Vicki! Nice talking to you!" Faith said, giving an over enthusiastic wave from her position on the couch.

Cordelia slammed the door shut.

Wow. She hadn't scared anyone in a while. It felt a little like coming home. Giving a contented sigh, the first in a while, Faith stood, stretching slightly. Casting eyes back to her uneasy ally, she found the Seer staring at her in open admiration.

"What?" she asked self consciously.

"I so wanna marry you, right now."

An unwelcome blush fought its way to Faith's pronounced cheeks. The Slayer just winked, picking up her leather jacket and moving past her to the door. "I'll settle for that drink."

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

Angel leaned over the cradle, his eyes moist as he looked down at his sleeping child. A lump settled in his throat, a soft, needless sigh flowing from his breathless lips as he rested his chin on the edge of the child's bed.

"I'm sorry," he said to his young baby. Little Connor continued to sleep, unknowing that his father had single-handedly managed to muck up the entire family that his child, that HE needed.

"Sweetheart, I'm telling you one more time. You wanna do the brooding thing, you do that in black. `Cause the white? Inspires golf games and tennis matches, not brood marathons."

Angel closed his eyes in mild irritation as Lorne entered the room. "Where are the others?" he asked heavily.

"Gunn fell asleep on the couch before I could get any more out of him, I'll wake him up in a bit. Wesley's trying to take care of the blood."

Angel nodded, keeping his eyes on Connor.

"You know," Lorne began, moving to sit on the bed. "This whole time, I kept wondering why everyone was avoiding me. I never would have guessed what happened between Gunn-y and Fred. I never would have believed Wesley and Faith could have fallen into bed together. But, sweetie, I think I saw the situation with you and Cordelia ten miles away."

"Funny," Angel answered dryly. "I never saw it coming. I never saw it. Why didn't I see it, Lorne?"

The Host was uncharacteristically silent. "What?" he asked finally. "You and Cordelia?"

The vampire nodded.

He shrugged, blowing out his breath in contemplation. "Sometimes we don't want to see it, sweetheart. It wasn't just you. Cordelia doesn't want this anymore than you do."

"I want it, Lorne," Angel said darkly. "I want it. I want HER. I don't know if I've ever had her, but I sit here, in the dark, and all I want is to see her. To hold her. I don't know how it happened, but it has. And I don't know how to love her, without hurting her."

"All you know is that you can't stop. You can't walk away, and you can't run this time."

Angel swallowed, circling his child's hand with a soft, gentle finger, an effort to maintain some sort of focus.

"Angel," Lorne began slowly. "No one knows how to love. Take it from me, Chickadee, sometimes that's all you can do. And that's everything."

Angel's eyes closed. More than anything, he wanted to believe that.

--

Friday Afternoon - The Hyperion Hotel

The hotel had become her haven. It had also been, on previous occasions, her nightmare. Fred was of a cerebral sort. She slid through two types of thought processes. There were times when every nuance of her being was involved in some sort of analysis. Flitting through her mind were possibilities and angles, beliefs. She never said one word out loud, but in seconds, suddenly what seemed the most devastating obstacle could become easily solvable. The second process was one that involved a lot of her friends losing patience. It was the rambling, when everything became vocal, words speaking out loud, tumbling forth from lips that stumbled, unable to keep up with her mind.

It made for a complicated, and yet straight forward, woman, and she wondered how many people actually knew that. Sitting here in the hallway, in the shadows of the second floor, with no one home, Fred felt alone. But she wasn't scared. For the first time in a long time, she was more angered than scared, more sad than worried. Since she had come back to earth, Fred had learned the value in placing trust in others, so much that she wondered if it had softened her. Her phone, old-fashioned, sat on her legs. Staring at it, she contemplated, and finally picked it up, punching Cordelia's cell phone number slowly.

It rang twice, three times, and the voicemail picked up.

"Hi, you've reached Cordelia. I'm screening my calls now, and Angel if this is you, I'm going to tell you ONE MORE TIME not to call. I'll kick your ass, you undead bastard. Anyone else, this better be an emergency. If I really wanted to talk to you, well then I'd call you, wouldn't I? Beep."

Fred blinked, holding the phone away from her and staring at the receiver. What on earth? Was this an emergency? What could she say? Mulling the words over, she considered, "Hey, Cordy! I'm okay, but Gunn's gonna meet up with Holtz and possibly get killed. But don't tell anyone, `kay?"

Didn't seem to quite work. Time made her decision for her, as the session timed out, and Fred heard a distinct dial tone on the other end. With a sigh, she punched in Wesley's phone number.

"This is Virginia."

Fred blinked. "I- uh."

"Bloody hell, give me that. Faith?!"

Fred gave a confused mumble. "Wesley?"

"Fred?! Have you heard from Faith?"

"Ah- no- Actually I was wondering if-"

"Bloody hell, Virginia! Fine. Fred, forgive me, I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wesley, but I-"

Click. Well. This wasn't going well. One more try. Trying to still her trembling insides, Fred dialed another phone number.

*ring*

She sighed with relief when the click was heard.

"Cordelia?!"

Suddenly deflated, Fred lolled her head back, leaning against the wall.

"Cordelia, is that you? Where are you?"

This time, Fred just gave up, hanging up the phone, placing it to her side, and bringing her knees up to cradle against her chest. So much for her friend's help then. Fred gave a small moan, suddenly feeling helplessly alone. Things were rapidly taking a bad turn to worse, and she had no idea what to do.

"Fred?"

The lone call from the lobby seemed far off. Fred waited a minute, unsure, until she heard it again.

"Fred!"

Sucking in her breath, she scrambled to her feet, fighting back the tears she had no idea were coming until she wiped their beginning trails away.

"Charles?!" she asked breathlessly, body completely on edge, heart hammering a mile a minute. Striding quickly to the top of the stairs, a sigh of relief overtook her, when she found Charles standing at the foot of the stair case, looking up at her with mournful, sad eyes.

"Fred, I'm sorry."

With her hand on the banister, long hair cascading down her back, his little Fred appeared like some sort of heaven sent being. His chest gave a tug, and all pride melted away at the hopeful shining of her eyes. His feet were frozen to the floor, fingers unclenching in relief as she began to descend, gaze only for him. Gunn didn't know what was happening, but suddenly it all began to make sense: Why he had to come back, why he had to try to do anything to make it all right.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She was only a foot away now. Now, she was even closer. His eyes were riveted to her form, the small smile on her beautiful features, as she walked into his arms, cupping his face with her palms, nodding at him with moist eyes.

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered. Seconds later, he had her crushed to him, holding her tightly. Her lithe body was trembling. Charles closed his eyes tight, trying to keep her with him, so relieved that she was still there, in his arms.

"I need you, you know," he whispered hastily, words tumbling out as his raw emotion overtook him. "I just... I need you beside me. I don't got you, I don't have anyone, Fred."

"You have me, Charles," she responded, pulling back. Sharing an intense gaze, a small grin played on her lips, moistened eyes glittering at him.

Her eyes had little gold flecks in them. Funny, how he had never noticed them before. And she had freckles on her face. You could barely see them, because her dimples were so distracting. It was just... a breathtakingly beautiful face, with these shining eyes and...

He gulped, tightening his arms around her small waist, bringing her in closer, and in a move that seemed remarkably easy, he slanted his lips over hers, tasting her. She breathed into his lips with a sigh, fingers tangling into each other as she pulled back to take a breath, and buried her lips into his again. The kiss was longer, wetter. It was increasingly hard to contain the desire. Gunn gave a low growl, tangling his fingers into her curls, tilting her head to gain better access to her inviting mouth. When they broke apart, Gunn dove for her neck, smiling into her skin as she gave a shudder, clutching him tighter.

"Gunn..." she began thickly. "I don't know if we should..." Her eyes closed, a sigh coming raggedly from her parting lips as he slowly began to nibble on her earlobe. "Do this," she finished with some effort.

She cursed herself for saying anything at all when he paused. Her fingers distractedly rose to his lips, outlining them, mind muddled with desire. "You think we're ... messing with our friendship?"

Her fingers were already working at his collar, smoothing around his neck, pulling him back down until his lips were only centimeters from hers.

"Nothing wrong with bein' friendly," she whispered, in what seemed a brilliant stroke of logic.

"Right," he said back just as seriously, nodding adamantly. "Just as long as we... you know... are just being friendly."

"And friends trust each other..."

"A lot..." he said, eyes closing as his lips caressed her cheek, tongue flicking out lightly as they moved to her jaw, sending shivers through her.

"So we're good..."

"Yeah... we're good..."

Her smile was genuine as she pulled back, hands reaching for the intrusive sweater covering his torso. "Nothing wrong with bein' friendly," she repeated.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"That's too much butter."

Faith gave Cordelia a glare, turning back to her saucepan, peering into it. "Listen, Cordelia. I haven't had a good tub of popcorn since -"

"Yesterday. Which I paid for. Which you ate. ALL OF," Cordelia reminded her, coming into the kitchen and pulling open the microwave door, shaking the hissing bag of Orville's kernels.

"Right. Well, before that. Since jail, and I'm gonna enjoy my stupid butter, okay?"

"You're not going to keep using that are you? Because if you tell me one more time that you're gonna do something because you didn't do it in the pen, I'll bitch slap you so fast you won't have TIME to slay anything."

Faith rolled her eyes, nudging at Cordelia, noticing with some consternation, that Cordelia nudged back. Things were getting damn chummy between the two of them, and Faith, not at all used to female bonding, was grudgingly only slightly able to admit that it was something she kinda enjoyed, despite the circumstances that had forced them all together in a bar, drunk off their asses. Casting a glance to the living room, through the open door, Faith laid thoughtful eyes on a smiling Fred, who was still fighting with Kate over her choice of the color pink.

"So... You going to tell Fred that `friends with benefits' doesn't exactly work?"

"I think she's pretty much figured it out on her own," Cordelia replied, leaning against the counter, looking back in Fred's direction. "Funny, isn't it?"

"What?" Faith asked, jerking the bag of popcorn from Cordelia and pouring the melted butter into it, smiling at Cordelia's disgust.

The Seer rolled her eyes, but ignored it. "She's the only one who seems... or seemed... happy - I mean, before Gunn messed it up."

Faith was quiet for a minute, dark eyes whipping toward the hazel of Cordelia's. "You're seriously not happy with Angel?"

Cordelia sighed, pressing a palm against her forehead. That was a million dollar question. "I can't picture my life without him. And, every single bit of happiness I have, is tied into him. But... I don't know if I can be WITH him. What with Buffy, if SHE couldn't make it work, a bonafide HERO -"

"Okay, you're not her."

"Tell him that." Faith sucked in her breath, her sudden loss of appetite forcing her to put the freshly popped kernels down. "I'm not leaving him anytime soon," Cordelia admitted, her fingers rolling over a kernel of her own. "But I don't know how I can stop loving him now... and still - things can't go further, you know? But I can't stop. Whatever we HAD when we were friends... it's just so much harder now."

"Since when have you walked away from a challenge?" Faith asked quietly. "Fuck, Chase, you dated XANDER."

"Yeah, and look how that turned out." Cordelia gave a small, grim smile, before she straightened to her full form, and pinned the other girl with bursts of hazel. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Sex with Wesley? Did that give you the big happy? On my couch?"

Faith's gaze immediately averted, her fingers clenching at the counter. "I'm not talking about it."

"If he said he was sorry, would you take him back?"

"Fuck, Cordy-"

"Would you?"

"Angel said he was sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't mean shit to me."

Faith blinked, suddenly confused. "What?"

Cordelia's gaze was cool, but also incredibly sad. She leaned against the counter, eyes on the floor. "'I'm sorry'? That's just words. I never believe in words. I spent my whole life saying one thing, meaning another. It's bullshit, Faith. It's what you do that matters. Words are just wasted breath of air."

"So words aren't enough."

Cordelia swallowed, her eyes increasingly bright. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just waiting for the right words."

--

Friday Night - Wesley's Apartment

Angel's body was weighted down with exhaustion when he knocked on Wesley's door. Emotion hung on his body, an unwanted invisible mantle, eyes dark and full of thought as he waited for the Englishman to open the door. He was quickly losing hope. Cordelia was angry... she was so angry- and he had no idea how to fix this... There was nothing he could say that would help, he knew her that well. He had been hoping that somehow, in some blind gesture, she would be forced to see him, understand what he meant and what he wanted -

The door opened. Wesley stared at him with dark, disappointed eyes.

"Oh, it's you."

Angel's brow furrowed as Wesley turned, pulling on a black tuxedo jacket. "What are you doing?"

"Angel, have you heard from Faith at all?" Wesley asked.

Angel paused, unable to understand why his friend would ask that. Wesley's back was turned to him, but there was something in his voice.

"No. Why?"

"You promised to speak to her," Wesley answered quietly, picking up a bowtie from his dresser. Angel gave a sigh, a groan overtaking him.

"Yeah, sorry.... I... it's been rough. Cordelia-"

"I see."

The tone was sharp, Angel flinched from it. Venturing forward, he began softly, "I was... hoping you could talk."

"I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment." Wesley turned, gulping down a hard swallow as he tightened the bow tie. "Virginia called. She asked me to accompany her to a function."

"She called? For what, like a date?"

"No, not a date." Wesley's voice was somber, quiet, and once again Angel got the distinct impression something was very wrong.

"Wesley, what happened? Do you need help?"

"Oh, heaven forbid I distract you from your Cordelia stalking," Wesley said dryly. Angel looked away. Wesley's face softened at the reaction. "Pardon me, Angel. It's ... nothing I can't handle. Virginia just needed someone she trusted. It means nothing. I would rather ... you talked to Faith. I imagine things have been rough."

"Has she said anything to you?"

"Faith doesn't trust me," Wesley gave Angel a grim smile. "No reason she should really. I'll have my cellphone on, if you'd like to reach me. Tell her..."

"Wesley, I don't even know where she is. I stopped by Cordy's, and Dennis wouldn't even open the door, and -"

"Well, obviously Dennis isn't going to bloody open the door if Cordelia's pissed, Angel, bloody hell." Wesley looked tired as he grabbed his keys, stuffing them into his pocket. "Cordelia loves you, Angel. I would you advise you trust that, and give her the time she needs."

"Wesley, she's trying to -"

"Make you less than what you are." Wesley's hand was still on the doorway, his back to Angel, making it impossible to see his expression. "She can't do that for long. You're everything to her. That's what love truly is. The question is... what can you offer her? If it's nothing... then why bother?"

The door closed, leaving Angel in darkness, the turmoil in his heart only splintering with Wesley's parting words.

--

--

CHAPTER TEN

Friday Night - Universal City

Cordelia shivered in the night air, drawing her long overcoat closer to her body as she stepped out of the Cineplex. The Universal Citywalk was illuminated with lights, crowded with tourists. The music blared from the huge screen over the catwalk. Beside her, Faith seemed as bothered by the crowd as she was, moving closer to her side, zipping up the leather jacket she had borrowed and whistling low under her breath.

"Fucking lot of people here, Cor."

"It's a Friday night, nimrod, what did you expect?" Cordelia snapped distractedly, suddenly overtaken with a memory of the last time she was here. It had been with Angel. Kicking and screaming, she had dragged him to the movie. He had complained about the long lines and the astronomical prices, altogether becoming a big old whiner, until the lights dimmed.

Minutes crept by, and then an arm slipped around her. With only a tub of popcorn between them, Cordelia spent the entire time completely aware of him. His fingers as they caressed her forearm, bringing her in closer to his side. His lips on her ear as he asked if she wanted more popcorn. The leather coat he placed over her shoulders when she shivered from the touch...

Suddenly the last place she wanted to be was at the theatre. "How about that drink?" she asked breathlessly.

"That's what I came for," Faith snapped, following Cordelia through the crowd, letting her eyes linger on a young man who kept his gaze on them, an appreciative smile on his face. Shaking away the irrational feeling of guilt, she turned, moving closer to the Seer, as Cordelia weaved expertly through the crowds.

Drones of people still unnerved Faith. The Slayer had never been comfortable with bodies rubbing together like sardines anyway. Well, after her redemption-ist fest, that was. Before, it had exhilarated her. Now, it made her feel cornered, and cornered and trapped were two reactions that never helped her now that she was Miss Goodie Two Shoes. Especially, since that seemed to come hand in hand with violence.

"You just HAD to pick a 'guys killing other guys with guns,' didn't ya 'C," she grumbled under her breath. "Like giving an alcoholic beer, ya know?"

Cordelia heard it, turning back to pin her with her hazel eyes. "Ok, to say you scare me, doesn't even scratch the surface," she muttered.

Faith reached out, keeping hold of Cordelia's arm as she turned up the escalators, and found herself in an even more crowded place, complete with a bowling alley and, FINALLY, a bar.

She wanted to get drunk, to get completely wasted off her ass, because then she'd have an excuse to hunt him down. Then maybe, she could kill him, or even worse, plead, get on her knees like a damned prissy, and beg that damned Ex-Watcher to love her. To hold her and not take it back.

She shuddered at the betraying thoughts, raking fingers through her long dark hair, motioning to the bartender with a wave of her hand, trying desperately to push them away. Cordelia's eyes were on her, and Faith realized that she had chosen to drink, and consequently, bond, with quite possibly the most perceptive chick alive.

Shit.

"Something's going on with you." Cordelia's tone was flat.

Eyes closing in self recrimination, Faith took a moment to gather her strength. Opening them again when she felt she had enough gumption, she smiled lewdly at the bartender, leaning forward to straddle the bar stool. "Hey," she said breezily. "What do you have here that's hard and fast?"

The bartender choked, and Cordelia's lower jaw dropped slightly, but the Slayer only winked suggestively. A hand latched on her forearm, pulling her back down to her seat. Faith shot the Seer a glare, but Cordelia only glared back - and shit, she had an icy stare for being such a prissy- and spoke evenly to the poor guy behind the bar.

"Two Malibu rums with pineapple juice. On the rocks. Now." Turning to her, Cordelia let out an aggravated huff. "What, you go zero to slut in 2.5 seconds?"

"Faster," Faith said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"What is up with you?" Cordelia asked, leaning against the bar, hazel eyes darkening. "I've met some skitzo's in my day before, but you..." she trailed off, mind suddenly whirling. After a second of silence, her eyes widened with clarity, and she smiled. "Wesley."

At the word, Faith reacted, self-satisfied smirk faltering, hands gripping at the counter.

"HA!" Cordelia nearly rose out of her stool, a look of triumph on her face. "It's him, isn't it?"

"What?! You're crazy," Faith said, turning away. Warm ambience began to burn through her cheeks, and panic was quickly settling in, making her body tremble and her hands shake, as they reached for the drinks the bartender set forth.

"What the hell happened between you two?"

"Cordelia." The tone was low, dangerous enough for Cordelia to lose her self-confidence, as remnants of the killer she had once known came back, in the glinting eyes, the hostile stare. "Leave it alone."

There was admittance there, and Cordelia, mind reeling with her newfound discovery, would have pressed onwards, dangerous as it was, had her mind not suddenly tingled.

"Faith..." she began slowly.

"Fuck off."

"Faith, CATCH ME!" Faith's anger rapidly dwindled as she stumbled off the stool, just in time to catch Cordelia's flailing body. The Seer crumpled to the floor, wailing in a painful, agonizing scream. The crowded bar suddenly focused all its attention on them, but Faith could have cared less, gathering Cordelia closer to her, trying to ride out the vision by holding on to her trembling body.

"Fuck, Cordy! Cordy!" Her words were breathless, scared, holding her down with a strength that would leave bruises, but Cordelia was unheeding, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

"No!" Faith's head jerked up, licking her lips as her voice came out hoarse. "Just... just don't. She's... one of those people, that gets those seizures. Those... seizure people."

Cordelia whimpered in her embrace, burying her face in Faith's shoulder, clinging to her tightly. "Get me out," she whispered thickly.

Scarcely able to hear the soft spoken word, she nevertheless obeyed immediately, gathering Cordelia to her and picking her up effortlessly, pushing through the crowd.

"MOVE, you bastard." Shoving aside a guy trying to help, Faith continued to move, pulling Cordelia with her. The cold night air hit her face with a burst of wind, and it relieved her, as she continued to walk, until they got to the parking structure. Quickly, she set Cordelia down on the bench, leaning down to cup her friend's head between her palms. "Cor? What's wrong? What'd you see?"

Cordelia sucked in her breath heavily, closing her eyes and leaning forward, letting Faith support her through the splintering pain. "Call Angel," she said, pushing out the words as well as she could.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

"Does it bother you?"

Fred looked up, her eyes darkened in confusion as she gazed curiously on the blonde detective.

"What?" she asked softly.

Kate shrugged slightly, pulling her head back to the kitchen, where the Slayer and the Seer were talking in low whispers. "Awfully chummy for only a few days."

Fred's mouth pursed, looking over Kate's shoulder to study the two. "Yeah..." she admitted, shrugging. "They kinda are. I guess, they've got the kyerumption, thing too... but not the moira," she said decidedly. Her face froze hesitantly. "At least I hope not."

Kate stifled the smirk, shaking her head. She leaned forward. "I mean... does it bother that they're... you were alone in this, Fred."

The words drifted to a soft whisper. Kate kept her gaze on the young physicist earnestly, trying to understand what it was that made her seem so fragile, when the events she had described had more than proven the younger woman was stronger than most. Mulling over the sentence, Fred's face was one of contemplation, as she let out a shaky breath. "I guess... I never really thought about it," she admitted. "I... before, it was always about turning to Angel. And now, I had to figure it out on my own, just like Pylea. It was scary, but... I didn't want to lose Gunn's trust, ya know? He's... special." Fred swallowed down the emotion, a soft shudder coming through her body. "I guess I never thought about them not being there. I knew... if I made them listen, they would. Just like the vision."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "The vision?"

"Cordelia's vision last night. Or two nights ago..." Fred shifted a glance to Kate's wall mounted clock, frowning at the time. "She was so mad at Angel - but she called him, `cause someone was in trouble."

"Fred..."

"It was just as much my fault," Fred finally said quickly, cheeks tinting a darker red as she put down the bottle of nail polish. "Angel and Cordy and Wesley and even Faith, they were all hurtin', right? But... where was I? Sleepin' with Gunn..."

"So you did sleep with Gunn." Faith crossed her arms, a smirk floating on her features as she and Cordelia re-entered the living room.

"If you mean, like slept in the same bed, then yes," Fred answered. "'Cause that's what we did."

"Did you get a hold of Angel?" Kate asked Cordelia.

The two brunettes seated on the couch exchanged glances, before Cordelia slowly shook her head in the negative. "No," she responded. "He doesn't know how to check his voicemail."

--

Friday Night - The Hyperion Hotel

Steps that seemed heavier than they were, stumbled into the Hyperion. A trenchcoat was shrugged off, and Angel, with eyes that were intense and full of anger and sorrow, left his coat on the orange sofa, walking up the stairs. As he rounded the corner, shutting the door to the nursery, he didn't hear the ringing of his cellphone, from the confines of his coat.

--

Friday Night - Universal Citywalk

Cordelia's mind was splintered with pain. Her breath was ragged, sucking coughs that jolted her brain in her skull, sending tiny, dagger-like pinpoints of pain through her body. She trembled openly, sobbing into her hands, unable to stop. Faith sucked in her breath, snapping the cellphone shut, turning back toward the Seer, grabbing her hands and holding tightly. "Okay, okay, I called him," she said hastily. "Just... stop crying, okay? I'm - I left a message."

Cordelia sucked in her breath, trying to sort out the pain in a blatant attempt not to let it overwhelm her, even as her body slipped and Faith caught her, setting her right again. Gulping in instinct, she gripped Faith's hands tighter, her forehead resting on Faith's shoulder. "What do you mean," she managed. "You left a message?!"

"On his cellphone. No one was picking up."

"FUCK." At the use of the word that Faith had almost monopolized, the Slayer froze slightly.

"What?"

"He doesn't know how to check his voicemail," Cordelia answered, irritation allowing her some focus. "Call Wesley."

"FUCK no."

"FAITH -"

"I'm not calling him, Cor." Faith swallowed hard, handing back the phone. She wasn't calling him. No way, no how. Those damned people could just save themselves, and that was that. She wasn't drunk enough to hear that voice -

"Are you out of your mind?" Cordelia's tone was angry now, her eyes narrowing at the brunette. "Faith, we have to help these people. CALL HIM."

"I'll help them." Faith forced her words around the painful lump in her throat, dark eyes intense on Cordelia's. "I'll help them, okay? Just tell me where they are and I'll go. But don't make me call him."

The hazel tinted orbs flashed slightly, but Faith only stared earnestly, never having pleaded for anything before now, never imagining she would be begging the Seer the way she was at this moment. Her voice was broken, her tone was harried. It was unlike anything she had ever done before.

And Cordelia knew it.

Maybe that was why the Seer bit back the pain, closed her eyes, and finally nodded.

"Help me up. Let's go."

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

Soft hands nudged at him, shaking him slightly.

Charles resisted the pull from his sleep, grumbling something intelligible as he wrapped himself further around the couch. The movement caught him off balance, and suddenly his stomach twisted as he landed on the floor, now fully awake.

"Oww."

"Sorry." Wesley offered him a soft smile. Gunn scratched at his head, blinking sleepily as he hitched in his breath, pushing himself back towards the couch.

Glancing at it, he let his hands run over the fabric, and then turned to his friend. "You said Angel can smell stuff, right?"

Wesley seated himself beside him with a painful sigh, leaning his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. "Yes. Why?"

"'Cause..." Charles wasn't sure exactly how to proceed, and now felt promptly sorry he had brought the subject up in the first place. "Nothing."

Pushing himself up and over the cushions, he plopped down on the couch, looking just as tired as Wesley, crossing his arms and mimicking his friend's position.

"Hey, Wes."

"Mmm."

"You really like Faith?" English's eyes opened warily, the blue darkening at the question, wariness apparent. Charles sensed the suspicion, and shook his head in an attempt to alleviate any misconceptions before they began. "I just... did you? I'm not being judgmental or anything. You really think people can change?"

Wesley was quiet, never answering the question, in favor of asking one of his own. "What do you mean, Charles?"

"I just..." Gunn struggled for the right words. "What if someone comes to you, tells you they want to change, and all that... you believe them?"

"I suppose it depends on their intentions."

"Did you believe Faith?"

Wesley shuffled in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the entire conversation. He considered telling Charles to let the subject rest, but found the earnest dark eyes of his friend staring at him, almost desperate for an answer.

"Not at first," he said finally, voice low and even. "But Faith has always been a rather conflicted person. One thing she had never faulted on, however, is loyalty, provided that you do not betray that. She must feel needed. In that she's much like Cordelia." He was quiet for a second, pondering, before he turned his bruised face to study Gunn. "Why do you ask?"

Charles sighed, smoothing a palm over his face in a tired gesture. "It's why Fred's pissed at me. There's this chick... her name's Justine..."

Audible steps behind them cut the conversation short. Angel stepped forward, Connor in his arms, wrinkling his nose as he drifted by the couch.

"What?" Lorne asked, coming up behind him.

"Gunn, wash that couch tomorrow," Angel snapped shortly. "The last thing I want is to explain to Cordelia why I'm not sitting on it anymore."

Charles turned bright red.

--

Friday Night - The Hyperion Hotel

The ringing cell phone broke him from a hazy sleep. Gunn opened heavy, sleep laden eyelids, pushing himself up on an elbow, not daring to ruin the peaceful slumber of the waif girl in his arms.

Fred's bed was smaller than most, and there wasn't much room to maneuver as he stroked the strands away from her hair in distraction, pushing with his hips to get at the phone in his pocket. Fumbling hastily, he cursed when the ringing made her stir, brown eyes blinking open to view him with curiosity, when he flipped open the damned thing, holding it up to his ear.

"Yeah."

"Gunn." The voice on the other end was unfamiliar at first. Fred, leaning her chin on his left pectoral, snuggled contentedly into his side, rubbed at his bare chest in an unspoken question. He gave her a shrug.

"Yeah?"

"It's Justine."

His expression froze, something Fred noticed, sitting up to stare at him. Choosing to keep his eyes away from her face, he shifted to the side, away from her. "What are doing callin' me, Ju- girl?"

The other end was quiet, and when the female voice spoke, she seemed to have taken a less aggressive approach. "Is your girlfriend there?"

Resisting the urge to look over his shoulder, he nodded. "Yeah, she's here."

"Oh. Gunn... Rondell gave me your number. Told me to tell you to meet us..."

"Yeah, he told me last night," Charles snapped, unintentionally snatching his hand away when Fred's disconcerting touch drifted over it. Realizing what he had done, he jerked his head, offering her a pained smile. The insecurity on the beautiful girl's face drifted away to reveal one of concern.

`Who is it?' she mouthed.

He gave her a blank stare as Justine continued to talk, "Right, well... Okay, shit. Look... I wanted to talk to you, about the vampire."

"What about him?"

"I ... did some research. Just... he's got a kid, right?"

"Justine, what the hell do you want?" Gunn snapped, losing patience finally.

"It's JUSTINE?!" Fred's eyes widened, and then narrowed into slits.

"Fred, shhh."

"She doesn't like me, does she?" Justine asked frankly.

"You `ain't on my list either, girl."

"FUCK, Gunn. You know what it's like to lose a sister, right?" He paused, the sudden tightening in his chest constricting his breath slightly. "What?"

"I lost my sister to vampires, Gunn. I thought Rondell told you. That's why I'm doing this with Holtz, I thought you'd understand - forget it."

"Justine, wait- JUST - "

The line disconnected. Gunn sighed, shutting the phone off, throwing it on the bed in an expression of frustration.

"What did she want?" Fred asked, pulling on her shirt, eyes wide.

His throat was drier than he expected. He had to cough, clear his throat before he could answer. "I don't know... she sounded weird. Said she lost her sister to the vamps."

Fred pursed her lips, reaching for her glasses and slipping them on. "Charles, you don't believe her, do you?"

He leaned back on the bed, face contemplative, wriggling sock covered toes. "Fred... she doesn't strike me as evil, ya know? Maybe... she's just on the wrong side... could have happened to me."

Their eyes met, implication clear in the words. Fred shared one intense look with her friend before she crossed around the bed, settling into the spot he left for her, letting him absentmindedly slide a hand around her waist.

"But it didn't," she recriminated softly, caressing his cheek gently. "You're a good man."

He tensed, squeezing her palm lightly. "Fred, what the hell am I doing?" he asked earnestly. "I don't know what I'm doin'. But I'm pulling people in with me left and right. I pulled you in with me, and look at us, Fred. We don't know what's gonna happen tonight. I don't know what I'm going to do-"

"Charles." She silenced him with a tender thumb sliding down his cheek, pausing on his lower lip. "Look at me." He closed his eyes, but obediently opened them again, resting his gaze on her with hope and sadness. "You'll do what's in your heart. And I'm here, because I want to be. I mean, it's not as if I could go anywhere, `cause you have the car, and all, but you ... know what I mean," she said, shaking her head, trying to stop her rambling. "You'll make your choice."

"And if I make the wrong one?"

"You won't."

The confidence in her tone undid him. His heart sank. She had complete faith in him, it was clear. It was there, in her sweet smile. Unshed tears betrayed the affect she had on him, and he choked with them, pulling her to him softly for one, desperate, lingering kiss. It was all he could afford. He didn't deserve her, yet. He wasn't sure if he ever would.

"Fred."

The door wrapped furiously. Fred and Gunn sprang apart, the voice at the entrance dominating and almost angry.

Angel. SHIT.

He didn't dare make a sound, pushing Fred off of him and reaching for his shirt, readjusting his belt. Fred licked her lips, trying desperately to still her beating heart, wondering why she was so afraid, as she answered timidly, "Angel?"

"Can I come in? Is Gunn in there with you?"

"Umm..." Shit. He had forgotten about Angel's vampy sense of smell. Fred reached up to open the door, and instinctively, he grabbed her arm, shaking his head fiercely, pleadingly. She gave him a comforting smile, squeezing back before delicately releasing herself from his grip, moving to the door and swinging it open, adjusting her skirt and shirt.

"Angel!"

A broody vampire, the likes of which she had only seen upon their return to Pylea, stared mournfully. Hands were dug deep into his pockets, sunken brown eyes gazed at her intensely. Immediately her fake smile faltered.

"What's wrong?"

"I-uh... nothing." He managed a grim smile, looking around her shoulder and spotting Gunn sitting stiffly on the bed. "What's he doing here?"

"Gunn and I were reading!" Fred piped up, her tone a trifle squeaky in her uneasiness. "And we fell asleep... on the bed. That's why the sheets are rumpled and... why his shoes are over there..."

Angel's dark, observant orbs lingered over Gunn's expression, but apparently it was a lucky day for both of them, because he didn't dwell on the obvious evidence of their `friendly' playtime, or more importantly, SNIFF. "Have you seen Faith?"

"Faith?"

"Psycho slayer girl?" Gunn stood, making sure to stay a good distance away, downwind. "Nuh-uh. Not for a while."

"Oh." Angel turned to Fred. "Fred?"

She shook her head fiercely. "Nope. Actually, she kinda scares me, so I'd stay away from her anyway, `cause you know... the leather and the tattoos... not really my type, right? Gunn? Umm..." she shut her mouth, blushing, and pushing the straggling hairs of her bangs away from her eyes.

Angel gave her a blank look. "Okay. Look... I'm going to go take Connor off of Lorne's hands. Just... if she calls or something... tell her I want to talk to her."

"Sure, but... we're going somewhere tonight... me and Gunn."

Charles stiffened behind her, as Angel said curiously, "Where are you going?"

She swallowed, glancing behind her at the tall, dark, proud man. Gunn was frozen to the floor. It would be so easy to just tell Angel, have him go and kick Holtz's ass, free Charles from a decision he didn't want to make. A decision he had to make.

"The movies. A French film."

That, at least, earned a smile from the tired vampire. "You're going to see a French film, Gunn?"

Charles, interrupted from his previous activity of staring at Fred in shock, shook himself out of his gaze. "Huh? Yeah, dude! French films... kick serious ass. With the... French speaking, and all."

"Right." Angel sighed heavily, licking his lips and stepping back. "I'm going for Connor. Look, just... if you see Cordelia or Faith, let me know. I'll be on my cell... which is in my trenchcoat," Angel said, suddenly realizing as he patted at his coat pockets. "She could have called, and I wouldn't have heard it!"

"Faith?" Fred asked helpfully.

"Huh? No - Cordy!" He ran from the room, thundering down the hallway with large, booming bounds.

Gunn looked down after him, hand on Fred's shoulder. "What's his trip?"

Fred gave him a shrug. "Cordy's mad at him."

"Again?" Fred nodded, and Charles rolled his eyes. She gave him a smile, and turned away.

"I guess we should get ready."

"Oh... right." Feeling suddenly awkward, Gunn placed his hands in his pockets, fearing that they would just fidget and break something. Following the little physicist with his gaze, he cocked his head, tongue suddenly large and dry in his mouth. "Uh... Fred?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you tell Angel?"

She paused. An unfamiliar expression floated past her features. "It's wasn't mine to tell," she said simply, flashing him a brief smile, before reaching for a comb. Gunn swallowed, shutting back the obvious emotion, ignoring the empty pit in his stomach as he stood, in the middle of Fred's room. He had a bad feeling about tonight. A hell of a bad feeling. The last thing he wanted to do was go down.

No, scratch that, he mentally noted, when she once again glanced at him, comfortable enough to smile at him again. His heart ached at the gesture. No... the last thing he wanted to do, was bring her down with him.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

It was late, or early, Cordelia noted, checking the time on the clock on Kate's wall. Too late, too early. The headache that had been brought on by the earlier vision, still hadn't quite gone away. It was ringing in her temples, and the gnawing in her stomach, the increased uneasiness that was quickly becoming nausea, was not helping.

Taking a breath, Cordelia dipped her hand in the running water, letting the drops fall from her fingertips, before leaning forward, splashing her forehead with it. The cold tingled her nerves slightly, and it made things a little better, for about a second. The pounding continued to resonate. Cordelia tried once again to ignore it, looking into the mirror, finding a tired woman staring back. God, was she really only twenty-one? Was this what twenty-one was supposed to feel like? Gripping the edge of the sink, she continued to study the image, letting her mind whirl.

Faith and Wesley, Kate and Lorne, Gunn and Fred. Hopelessly lost friends, who had turned to each other for support, had turned to HER for support. A family that had been thrown together by chance, was now drifting apart by her own carelessness. God, even Faith, who had only been with them a week, called her Mommy. It had been a passing reference, but the responsibility behind it was scary. `Mommy and Daddy were a little too obsessed to care.' Too involved in her own increasingly grim future, in her fury at a vampire who had tried to save her by pushing her away, too absorbed in trying to end at least a little bit of pain, she had almost lost all of them under her very nose.

There was too much information in her debilitating mind, too much responsibility, and for a moment, she resented it. She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't wanted to care so much, to have Faith and Fred both look at her as if she was some Yoda. She wasn't. She was only twenty-one years old. She was dying. She couldn't even remember her own rules.

She was completely in love with a vampire, with a soul. Their link to each other, their reason for being a unit, had nearly been destroyed because she had fallen in love with him. Because of her, he would have left them all. And she couldn't do this alone.

"Cor?"

Faith's voice drifted though the wooden door, and it startled her.

"Yeah?" she asked warily.

"You need scissors or something? You're taking a hell of a long time."

Cordelia closed her eyes, letting a morose smile caress her features. "Nice, Faith. Really nice imagery there." After a moment, she shut off the valve, straightening up. "I'm coming," she said finally.

"All right... `Cause I can break the door down, you know that, right?" Cordelia opened the door, smiling at Faith's concerned expression. "You okay?"

"A little pissed," Cordelia answered, shaking slightly at the pain, holding the still wet hand to her face, in an attempt to cool off her too hot body. "I'm fine," she lied. "Let's go."

--

Friday Night - Bossa Nova in Hollywood

Virginia's curls had been cut into a stylish cascade, barely reaching her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, expressive, and her face, in that picture perfect smile, was as always, mesmerizing. But Wesley's found himself instead wishing for brown, instead of red. His fingers twitched nervously, his appetite long gone.

"Thanks again for doing this, Wesley." Wesley shot the heiress a distracted smile, grateful that she had at least picked a place that wasn't so... ritzy, for the after gala meal.

"Virginia, I did mean what I said. If you ever needed help," he said, keeping his eyes on the Sunset strip. Across the street, the strip club's lights were blinking steadily.

"I know, and I appreciate that." Virginia managed a quick grin. "I mean, I'm like, a demon magnet."

"It was nothing." It was more than nothing, what with Wesley completely distracted by his whirling thoughts, to pay too much attention to the blackmailing demon he had hacked apart. It was a physical job, and it had been hard, something Angel, or rather, Faith could have taken care of, much more easily.

"Wes?"

"Hmm."

"What's wrong?" His blue eyes caught her worried gaze. Virginia had a runaway mouth, much like Cordelia, and Wesley appreciated the frankness.

"I'm afraid, it's nothing you can help me with," he answered, picking at his food. The table was quiet again, and he didn't notice her shifting across from him, the almost unsure way his Virginia was acting. He wondered exactly where the rest of Angel Investigations were, tonight. Hopefully, Angel had gotten a chance to talk to Faith... to do what he could not. He had given the girl the last thing she needed, and had taken her delicate trust and thrown it out the window, instead.

"It's good to see you again, Wesley."

He looked up, once again torn from his brooding. "Likewise."

"Wesley." A warm palm drifted on top of his. Once again forced to look at his old girlfriend, Wesley ignored the thump in his heart, and resisted the urge to compare green eyes to brown, marvel at the lack of brilliance compared to that of a Slayers.

Good, God. He was on the verge of falling in love. Closing his eyes, he breathed out a labored sigh.

"Yes?" he asked heavily.

"Why do I get the feeling, this is the last place you want to be? Are you still mad at me?"

He stared at her blankly, and finally realized the question. "What? No, Virginia, this has nothing to do with you."

She looked almost disappointed in that, her hand retracting, settling into her lap, beautiful face conflicted. "Oh. There's someone else. Because, I was kinda hoping... that- I mean... after tonight, and seeing you again..."

"Virginia..." Wesley's form stiffened, realizing what she was trying to say with a sinking heart. "Please..."

Movement at the window caught his eyes, as he reached for Virginia's hand, holding it tenderly. Turning toward the peeping toms, he recognized the two faces, staring into the window.

One pair of eyes held blank confusion. The other pair held anger, betrayal, and heartbreak.

"Good God," he breathed in, frozen in his shock, his nightmare suddenly becoming ever more real. "Faith."

--

--

CHAPTER ELEVEN -

--

Friday Night - Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood

Digging into her pockets for the worn dollar bills, Faith flashed the mini-mart owner a distracted smile.

"Four dollars," he responded, eyes narrowing as they lingered on the tattoo etched onto her skin.

The obvious judgement brought an instinctive reaction in Faith. Her body stiffened, her eyes glinted at his darkened look of suspicion. The dark curls, the tattoo, the black leather. She knew what he saw when he looked at her. More than anything, she wanted to remove that look of disgust, succinct arousal, and replace it with fear.

Her teeth gritted as she glanced at the entrance. Sighing, she pulled out the bills and threw them on the counter, gathering her things in the plastic bag and wrinkling the handle as she moved toward the exit. Fuck him. She had more important things to worry about. Outside, the cold bit into her skin. It was unusually windy in Los Angeles - the city of the sun, and bikinis. Folding the bag into her arms, she walked quickly to where Cordelia was sitting on the scratched bus bench, her head buried in between her palms.

"Here," Faith said, kneeling in front of her, opening the bag and with trembling fingers, reaching for the aspirin and the bottle of water. Cordelia barely acknowledged her, but obediently took the bottle and the pills, making an odd grunt as she slurped at the water, knocking it back like a shot of tequila. In her haste to get her the aspirin, some of the pills spilt to the floor. Faith pondered picking them up, instead choosing to sink down onto the bench next to her, hands tangled together, nervous as hell and unsure what to do about it.

Sitting here, watching the cars drive past, ignoring the occasional wolf whistles, Faith's view of the world tilted slightly. The girl next to her was in obvious pain, and more than anything, she wanted to make it stop. She wanted all the pain to just go away - and fuck, why? It would never go away. None of it would ever go away. The pain that was always in her heart, the rage and the hatred that sometimes consumed her, used to eat away at her. She would crave more agony, more hurt, in order to fill the void left by its presence. Now, all it gave her was fear. One second of peace, removed and splintered by a lifetime of fear. On the streets of Hollywood, there was a stench of vomit and nausea, coupled with the hopeful dreams of the starlets in the photos pinned by the Kodak on the corner. Confusing, this lost city of souls.

Across the street was a strip club, gaudy and fake, and damn proud of it. Men opened the door, moving inside, and Faith considered going in, just to see exactly what they went in for. Hell, at least it was honest. Men bought what they wanted, a fantasy that came with the ever bitter truth, that that was all they were buying. Cheap fondlings.

The groan that came from the girl by her side distracted her. Faith jerked her head back, hand immediately reaching for Cordelia's shoulder. "What? Can you move?"

The words came out harsher than she wanted them to be, but Faith couldn't take them back, and she didn't bother to, instead hoping she did her best to help Cordelia get through this thing. It looked fucking painful.

Faith had arrived with the Seer only minutes before the pair Cordy had seen in the vision were about to be sacrificed, and while she had disposed of the demon idiots in seconds, she had absolutely no idea what to do with the sobbing teenagers that were left behind. Staring at them, it had almost crippled her, to see these kids crying on the dirt floor, clutching each other, complete emotional wrecks.

So this was what `C meant about the killing being only part of it. If Cordelia hadn't suddenly regained her ability to walk and come in at the last second to help those kids outta there, Faith would probably still have been standing there with the blank look of panic on her face. Taking the kids home had left the Slayer and Seer here, with Cordelia barely saying a word, and for once in her life, Faith was really and truly scared.

"It's better," Cordelia said softly, voice barely above a whisper. "I... it always gets better when it's over."

"How the hell can you live like this?" Faith demanded, eyes narrowing. "Does Angel know what this does to you?"

Cordelia ignored her, body shuddering as she closed her eyes, caught her breath and reached for Faith's arm. "I just need some food... I'll be fine."

"You're not going to be -"

"FAITH!" Cordelia's eyes snapped open, hazel glinted brilliantly at her, and something in her expression made the Slayer snap her mouth shut, swallow down hard. "Everyone here makes sacrifices. We ALL make mistakes. The difference between us, and everyone else, is that we accept them, and don't bitch about the consequences."

Faith felt her heart jolt at the words, and she couldn't help but ask, "Fuck, Cordy. If you're working for good, WHY does there have to be consequences?" She never would have expected to be waiting so breathlessly for the May Queen's answer. It was a testament to a lot of hard years that they now stood here, instead of Sunnydale, holding onto each other and staring into each other's eyes as if they were some sorta -

"Faith, you nimrod." Cordelia's smile was tense. "It's always harder when you care. It's easier when you're the bitch. When you look into eyes that you hurt, and you don't care. You know that. I know that."

There was more inferred in those words than Faith wanted to face. Her hair whipped around her shoulders as she looked down the street, spotted a restaurant down the block. "What about that place?" she asked hastily.

"Bossa Nova," Cordelia read. "Sounds like a plan." Sliding a hand under Cordelia's arm, Faith helped her, feeling Cordelia regain her strength somewhat, much to her relief. Why the hell, if Angel had such a big `family', did she feel so alone? Shit, she had been here almost a week, and she still had barely seen the little mousy chick - okay the tall mousy chick, and the other guy. And hell, she had seen MORE than her fair share of Wesley-

"Wesley?"

The word torn out of her thoughts startled her. Faith paused, at first glaring at Cordelia suspiciously, ready to ask if those visions came with some sort of mind reading, too.

"What?" she blurted out the word, almost dropping Cordelia in her haste to seem impersonal about the whole damn thing. Cordelia's face instead was focused on the window, and jerking her head to see what Cordy found so fascinating, Faith's own eyes caught a very damning scene.

Flinching back, she was almost disgusted at the way her heart wrenched within her, the way her eyes nearly burst into tears, and how she had to open her eyes again just to battle her disbelief. Wesley with a haircut. Her Wesley, who had held her and kissed her and made love to her, with his beautiful blue eyes, was looking at some red headed bitch with those eyes that had looked at her, and he was FUCKING HOLDING HER HAND. Not hitting her, not damn near spitting at her, but looking at her with this tender expression that -

She gasped for breath, panting in her emotion.

"Faith?" Cordelia's tone indicated her worry, as she laid a hesitant hand on her arm. Immediately, Faith shied away from the touch, eyes glued to the scene, until the ex-Watcher turned, and his blue eyes caught hers. Suddenly, it all seemed too real, and it was too much to stop. Her hands balled into fists, her vision blurred with stinging tears. Stepping backwards, she shook her head furiously, desperate to get away from there.

But he was moving, going for the door, and she wasn't fast enough to pull the still weary Cordelia away, before he tumbled out of the door in his stupid tuxedo, rambling in that stupid accent of his.

"Faith -"

"Wesley?" Cordelia was quiet, glancing from the still seated Virginia, to the frozen Faith, to Wes's panicked expression.

"Cordelia, let's go."

And more with the unconscious begging, Cordelia noted. Faith's grip was tight, to the point of being painful. Cordelia winced, but tried to push back her curiosity, when she saw the tears beginning to form in Faith's eyes.

"Umm.... Guys..." she began.

"Faith, it's not what you think -" Wesley said breathlessly, moving into the night air, coming forward.

Faith just kept stepping back. "What does it matter what I think, English?" she managed to bite out. "What I do never fucking matters, does it?"

"Faith, if you'd just LISTEN for once -"

"LISTEN!?" she bit, eyes widening in anger. "LISTEN!? FUCK, Wesley, why the hell should I listen to YOU!"

"Faith..." Cordelia once again tried to break into the conversation, but Wesley beat her to it, his blue eyes darkening in some sort of anger.

"Faith, stop this. You jump to conclusions, you ask me to trust you, but I see nothing -"

"Yeah, you see nothing, Wes. That's the fucking problem."

"Wesley, what's going on?" Virginia peeked outside, smile frozen when her eyes fell on Faith and Cordelia. "Oh... hi Cordelia."

"Virginia," Cordelia returned breathlessly.

"Virginia, get back inside, this doesn't concern you," Wesley ordered. His gaze stayed on Faith.

The Slayer had begun to visibly shake, but with a look to the other woman, something changed. Cordelia saw it, the stiffening of her body, the glint in her eye, and it made her heart sink.

"God, Faith - No -"

"What, Wesley?" Faith asked, voice dripping with sultry sarcasm, crossing her arms and shifting her hips, smiling with lips that slid into a sneer. "Haven't told your girlfriend about the fabulous fuck we had?"

"Fabulous - what?"

"WHAT?" Cordelia also burst, mouth opening in shock.

"Faith," Wesley began, voice dropping into a soft whisper. "Please, don't do this now."

"Hell of a night, wasn't it, Wes?"

His patience snapped, and he strode forward, grabbing the smaller girl by the shoulders, shaking her head. "Stop it, Faith. Stop it, now. And listen to me."

"Damn you, Wesley," She whispered. "You should have let me go fast. I could have handled hard and fast. Not slow. Not with those hands and those eyes. You made me want to believe you. I hate you."

"Faith -" Her fist flew, and a looming pain blinded Wesley, as he stumbled back with the force of the blow, crashing into the pavement.

"Wesley!" Virginia's palm on his face, eyes stinging, a hell of a headache.

"FAITH! Let's GO!" With one eye open, in his haze of pain, Wesley could only watch as Faith was pulled away by a bewildered Cordelia, the Seer doing all she could to get Faith away before she went for the other eye. "Virginia, get him home."

"Sure, Cor."

"Jeez, Wesley... what the hell did you do?" was Cordelia's parting statement, as the brunettes left him on the sidewalk, Virginia's hands smoothing over his face.

--

The Present: The Hyperion Hotel

This time, there was no wisecrack, no statement to be said by any of the men that were seated on the stools.

Wesley was quiet, the reason his black eye and tuxedo revealed, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. "All I managed to do -"

"Wesley, what the hell were you thinking?" Angel snapped, eyes dark and dangerous, as he glared at the British man. "You KNEW she was lost, you SAW her when she was here before, you KNEW what-"

"Yes, I KNEW, Angel," Wesley tossed back, accent edged in anger as he stood, standing up to the vampire in a way he had begun to do only recently, fists curled into fists. "Just like you KNEW Cordelia's pain when it came to the visions, and you've done nothing. Instead, I come here and find you in bed with Faith-"

"Woah!" Gunn's head jerked up. Hands waving in the air, he repeated Wesley's statement. "You went to bed with Faith?"

Angel kept his eyes on Wesley's, as he gritted out, "It wasn't like that, Wesley. Get that through your thick skull. We fell asleep, on the same bed. I was trying to TALK to her, like YOU suggested. And maybe you might want to get out of my face before I make those eyes twins."

"BOYS!" Lorne's tone was sharp, angry, and completely without patience. "ENOUGH." Standing, he narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. "Can't you see what's going on here? Is it not sinking into your thick skulls? Cordelia and Faith chose to keep a vision to themselves because they couldn't reach you, because they couldn't TALK TO YOU. WHAT THE HELL kinda group is this? People almost DIED last night." Lorne paused, breathing heavily, jerking away from the counter and reaching for another bottle of tequila. "You boys better learn something from this, because before this night's over, I can guarantee you won't be seeing anything the same again." He turned to Charles, his eyes low and narrowed. "Go ahead, Charles. Tell them how close to death you and Fred really were."

When both Angel and Wesley turned their dark gazes on him, Gunn just felt tired, not wanting to tell the story, not wanting to feel the anger behind it. He just closed his e yes, licked his lips, and raised his head.

"At least I made my stand, man."

--

Late Friday Night - Nameless Ghetto

Fred's palm was clutched in his as they walked through the alley, the darkness permeating through his soul. The group of teenagers gathered at the end of the alley, some sitting, others standing, all packing heat. At their center, was a red-headed vixen in black leather, standing next to a shorter man, with beady dark eyes and a stocky build.

Fred's sucked in his breath, moving closer to his side. "That's him," she whispered. "That's Holtz."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that," he answered, pulling Fred slightly behind him as they continued to walk, keeping her close. The man known as Holtz didn't look like much at first, but Charles Gunn never underestimated a soul. It never crossed his mind to question why Angel and Darla ran from him for decades. In his eyes were power, and in his face, was hate.

And Charles Gunn knew all about that. He took a breath to try and still his beating heart, nodding to Rondell. His old buddy's face was curiously closed, the rifle in his hands cocked and ready to fire.

"So, where's the nest?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Holtz.

Justine's dark green eyes shimmered. She turned away, her face unreadable.

"There are no vampires," Holtz answered, stepping forward, hands folded in front of him. "Charles Gunn, it is a pleasure. You have quite a reputation among these children."

Charles's tense posture was answer enough to his hostility. He kept his mouth shut. Holtz continued to stare, with deep, mesmerizing eyes, shifting his gaze from him to Fred's form, as she stood as proudly as she could against him, despite the very real fear in her face.

"That one," he said after a minute, "Is deceitfully waif. Thick-skinned, is she not?"

"Just a little bit," Charles answered dryly. "She's with me."

"So I see." Holtz finally allowed a small smile. "Now, where YOUR loyalties lie, THAT is the true purpose of tonight. It is no secret you serve the vampire Angelus -"

"I don't SERVE the vampire," Gunn snapped. "I serve the mission."

Holtz merely gave him a glance, disbelieving and annoyed. "I see," he said, after a minute. Turning his attention onto Fred, he cocked his head. "You child, come here."

Charles' gaze locked with Fred, and she trembled slightly, a questioning look on her face.

He tried to give her a small smile of reassurance, but he couldn't.

"You have my word, I will not harm you," Holtz said. "At this time."

"Fred, don't," Charles said, keeping his grip tight.

"It's okay... it's fine." Fred's heart was beating rapidly, but she had faced Holtz before, and she could face him now. Relinquishing her hold on Gunn's hand, she stepped forward bravely, leaving Gunn behind to stand two feet away from the shorter man.

"And you, child, whom do you serve? The mission or the vampire?"

She stared at him, at first not quite comprehending.

"The mission or the vampire, little one," Holtz said again. "Which is it?"

"The vampire, what do you think?" Justine tossed, looking almost bored as she plopped down at the box.

"Speak the truth, child, or I will know." Holtz again look at her, his dark gaze penetrating and deep. "Whom do you serve? Is the mission more important than the vampire?"

Fred understood the test, but she never had any doubt of her answer, or the consequences. "By definition, you're description of the mission isn't entirely accurate. The mission, could be different things. In Angel's definition, it means working for the Powers, your own mission is the extermination of Angelus, which is what I really think you mean and not the fight for the good, or even all the vampires, and if you mean, would I turn my back on Angel, to fight alongside you? Well then, of course it's Angel."

Even Holtz looked slightly dazed at her quick answer, but he recovered quickly, smiling, nodding. "I would have expected nothing less, child. In your nature is a purity I find refreshing. It will be a shame, when the time comes for me to destroy you. Stand aside."

"HEY, now -" Gunn stepped forward, but Rondell's gun leveled up, pointing directly at his chest. Charles stopped, steps faltering as he looked from Holtz, who pushed Fred gently into the crowd of his old comrades, to Justine, who was watching with a passive expression, to Rondell. To his credit, at least his friend looked truly conflicted about holding a semi automatic weapon to him AGAIN.

"Old habits die hard, huh Rondell?"

"Sorry, man," he responded, just as evenly. "We gotta know. If you `ain't no liar, we got nothing to worry about, do we?"

"Whom do you serve, Charles?" Holtz broke in tersely.

"What?"

"Whom do you serve?" Holtz asked. "It's a simple question. You work with the vampire, and you claim the mission. And yet, there are facets in Angelus' souled career that clearly indicate a strong bias AGAINST the mission."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Charles asked.

"Well then, let's see." Holtz reached for his pad of papers, flipping through them. "Allowing lawyers to die. Releasing a known prisoner from a demonic hell dimension to save his Seer, responsible then for the death of more than a few innocent people. For starters." He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Hardly complimentary."

"Charles, don't listen to him," Fred pleaded, pushing through the crowd of boys.

"Oh, can someone shut her the FUCK up?" Justine snapped, turning her glare at Fred.

"Hold her," Holtz said breezily, the crossbow held loosely in his hands.

Immediately, Rondell reached forward, grabbing Fred by the shoulders, pushing her back. Charles immediately started forward. "DON'T you TOUCH HER, MAN!"

The short man moved too quickly, the crossbow slashing across his forehead, whipping him back, bringing him to his knees. The pain slanted through his head, and Charles had to take a minute to breathe.

"Holtz!" The vampire killer held up his hand, indicating to the startled Justine to hold her tongue. Hands folding into fists, she obeyed, stepping back into the crowd.

"My quarrel is with the vampire," the short man said, eyes blazing with self confidence, voice clipped with authority. "The vampire shall lose all, and you know him well enough to know what that entails."

Gunn's pulse underneath his jaw beat for a second, as he continued to listen. What Holtz lacked in stature, he made up for in power. Even with the funny looking trenchcoat, the crazy ass hair, he demanded respect. "You ain't evil, man," Gunn said, straightening, his breath coming out in one long huff. "I know that. You know that. You destroy Angel, you destroy the world."

Holtz gaze was dark, wild. "Perhaps," he acknowledged. "Perhaps I destroy the world, perhaps I damn the world to eternity of hell on earth. Tell me?" reaching up, he grabbed Gunn's chin in a powerful hold, pulling down, ignoring Gunn's grunt of pain. "Tell me now," he said in a low whisper. "What the difference would be from anything this world has to offer now?"

"You a sick, sick man."

The chin got pushed back, and Gunn tasted blood as he crashed against the pavement, coughing.

Before he had a chance to rise, a thick, rough boot was placed on his throat, pressing down against his voicebox.

"A man of shifting loyalties is a man who is unworthy of even the smallest honor," Holtz said methodically. "And there is nobility in your eyes, Mr. Gunn. So I will ask you again, and you will tell me the truth. Do you serve the vampire, or the mission?" Charles struggled against the boot, hands clamped against it, pushing vainly in an attempt to breathe. "If it is the mission you seek, then you have found your place. If it is the vampire-"

"Neither," he managed to eek out.

"Oh?" Holtz remained unfailingly polite, as the boot pressed down harder. He let out an agonized grunt.

"CHARLES!" Fred cried from her position, struggling against Rondell's hold. Holtz turned at the sound, looking surprised at the emotion. "Listen," he told Gunn, "to her pleas. She serves the vampire, she will die in time. Would you die with her?"

"You kill her, and I'll take your skanky ass down, yoda," Gunn bit, managing to gasp in some air when the boot moved an inch. "You kill her and there's no mission-"

"Exactly." Holtz smiled, looking down at him. "My point exactly." Reaching for a crossbow, he held it directly to Charles' throat, the blade pricking into his skin. "Once again, I ask you, whom do you serve? The vampire, or the mission? I serve neither. Now, you choose."

Rondell shifted behind him, eyes darting to his other compatriots.

Gunn glared at him, and finally managed, "I serve my family. And that includes the vampire. So FUCK off, Holtz."

"I see... It is a choice I respect, young Charles," Holtz smiled down at him. "Unfortunately, this is where our association comes to an end, for we are at an impossible impasse. Goodbye, Mr. Gunn."

The click of a gun made Charles stop struggling, looking wide-eyed at Rondell, who was now holding the pistol to Holtz's head.

"You pull that trigger, you'll meet your maker so fast, you won't have a chance to say your prayers," Rondell bit, eyes flashing. "There ain't no mission with you, Holtz, then we ain't playing your sick little game."

Holtz was quiet, his dangerous gaze now reserved for Rondell, arrow still dug into Charles' skin. "Rondell, you are a disappointment. In two seconds you can be dead."

"Maybe," Rondell acknowledged, eyebrows knitting together in his concentration, "but can you really run from all these dudes?" Charles found that the entire gang had their guns leveled on Holtz, mutual anger in their faces. "You wanna kill your vampire, you do that," Rondell

said, "But you don't kill people. Never people. Get the hell outta here, Holtz."

Justine pushed her way to the front, but found the guns leveled on her now, her dark green eyes unreadable as she stood by Holtz, eyes flickering down to meet Gunn's.

Holtz gave a short, grim smile. "You're merely buying them time, Rondell. And you become friends with them, you become an enemy of mine."

`Yeah, life's a bitch that way, ain't it," Rondell bit back.

Holtz looked down at Charles, and finally stepped away. As soon as the pressure was released from his esophagus, Charles began to suck in the air, balled into a fetus like position as Fred ran to him, cradling him in her arms, looking up at Holtz with eyes of fear.

He gave her a grim smile. "We shall see each other again, little one. Give Angelus my regards." To Justine, he ordered, "Let's go."

But the girl wavered, caught between the guns, and between Charles' face, lost in hesitation.

It took her a full five seconds to follow after Holtz, seconds Charles noted, as he gathered the trembling Fred to him, ignoring the blood streaming from his forehead, eyes locking with Rondell's.

"Thanks."

Rondell tipped his chin in a short nod, moving back, giving a shrug. "Whatever, dog. There ain't no mission."

"Charles." Fred's voice was broken, thick with tears as she cupped his face in her hands, wiping at the blood. "You're bleeding..."

He gave her a soft smile, lifting a hand to run through her hair. "I'm alright, Fred. For the first time in a while, baby, I'm alright."

Without a word, she slipped into his embrace, and Charles held on tightly, eyes shutting against the horrors that he knew would come, now that they had toed the line with Angel.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

The words had barely left Fred's mouth, before Cordelia had cussed a very loud word, and launched up from the couch, pushing past the startled Faith, into the bedroom, slamming the door.

The three women in the room were left in stunned silence.

In the bedroom, Cordelia paced angrily, hot tears spilling from her face, her hand slamming into the bed, breaking into a pillow, flinging it across the room.

FUCK. FUCK. SHIT. SHIT.

"Cordelia?" Fred's hesitant face peeked out from the crack between the door and the doorway, and Cordelia froze, stopping.

"You almost DIED. You could have DIED, Fred."

Fred blinked, looking almost ashamed as she stepped into the room, settling onto the bed meekly.

"I'm sorry, Cordelia."

"You shouldn't been alone, Fred," Cordelia finally burst. "You should have been able to call us, and instead we were all stuck in our own personal little melodramas-"

"Cordelia," Fred broke in softly. "We... I had Gunn there. We weren't alone."

"Yes, you were. The two of you could have died, and we didn't know about it. You should have told us, Fred!" Hazel eyes flashed brilliantly before they faded away, eyes closing in exasperation. "But how could you? I was screening calls, Wesley was locked away in his personal guilt trip, Angel was stalking me and Faith was the only one actually working." She gave a tired sigh. "You shouldn't have been alone. I mean... we save souls. If we can't even keep our family together, if you and Gunn, in serious trouble can't even COME to us..." Cordelia in a sigh, registering Fred's moistening orbs. "Then what the hell are we doing?"

Fred was quiet for a moment, hands tangled together in her lap, posture straight and tall as she watched the Seer collapse into a corner of the room, the tears slipping from her eyes.

"I... Existing," she finally whispered.

Cordelia paused, looking up at her. "What?"

"We're... just trying to live, Cordelia, as well as we know how." Fred gave a small smile. "Sure, Gunn and me almost died, but... we didn't."

"Fred..." Cordelia's face was soft, broken. "I should have known. I should have figured it out-"

"But you didn't." Fred gave a glance to the blonde and the brunette standing in the doorway, and moved back to Cordelia, settling next to her on the floor. "And that's okay."

"It's not okay-"

"Cordelia, you had your own problems. With Angel-"

"ANGEL - " Cordelia spit the word out, almost edged in disgust. "It's always ANGEL. We almost die because of ANGEL. What about YOU? What about GUNN?"

"What about you?" Faith interjected quietly from the doorway, arms crossed, her face terse and angry. "What the hell about you, Cordelia? The visions are killing you-"

"No, don't make this about me," Cordelia said. "FOR ONCE, let's not make this about me."

"It's not about you, Cordelia," Kate agreed, husky voice almost tender as she moved into the room behind Faith, sliding down next to the bed, gathering her legs under her. "It's about all of you. And it... seems to me, you all just had some shit happen at the same time."

"We should have-"

"We didn't, okay?" Fred offered a sad smile, "We didn't. And that's it. It's not your fault. Loving Angel's no piece of cake." She gave a sad shrug. "I know."

Faith gave her a confused look, but Cordelia understood, eyes locked with the young physicist, memories of finding the lost girl in the elevator, sobbing her heart out, coming readily to mind.

"That's not the point," Cordelia said, finally. "Nimrod, the point is that all I cared about was... that..."

"Love is everything," Fred agreed.

"Okay, Christian, don't burst into song," Faith muttered, looking at her fingernails.

"Shut up, Faith," Kate said, nudging the Slayer. "Fred's actually making sense for once."

"Cordelia..." Fred's voice was soft, hesitant. "Love is painful, and it kills you inside. But then you're reborn. No one can really SAVE you - but love... when you have it, then it doesn't matter- because no matter HOW hopeless a situation is... you can hold onto that. And fight for it. No one knows HOW to love someone. What they figure out, is that eventually, with that love, comes acceptance. And that's all you need."

"It doesn't feel like that, Fred."

"No," she agreed. "Because you've never let yourself go. It's painful, isn't it?" Fred asked, eyes glistening with unshed tears, "To hang onto a precipice, afraid to fall, for fear you'll be swallowed, for fear you'll die. But you can't go back, Cordelia. And for once, you can believe, that I know what I'm talking about. Don't worry about us. For ONCE... do it to save yourself."

Cordelia was silent, and then she gave a short sob of annoyance, wiping at her tears hastily. "SHIT, Fred. You did it again. You made it about me."

Fred smiled, pulling a strand of hair away from Cordelia's wet cheek. "No," she said. "It was about all of us." --

Late Night Friday - The Hyperion Hotel

The Hotel was silent, dark and intimidating.

Faith strode up the stairs, eyes stinging with tears she refused to shed, body tense with emotion that had yet to reach an outlet, fists clenched with a need to finish what she started. The Seer behind her was slower, hand on the banister, eyes drifting over the hotel.

Cordelia's hazel eyes spotted the nursery, and a curious lump in her throat suddenly made it difficult to breathe. She moved slowly, and ignoring Faith's huff of exasperation, she gently opened the door. What little light there was illuminated the bed to reveal a vampire dressed in a black sweater and black pants, sprawled over it, a resting baby sleeping in the crook of his arm.

"Lorne must have stayed out again," Cordelia whispered. Leaning against the doorway, she watched the scene. Angel, sleeping like the dead, reaching outward with one hand, space left on the bed for one more body.

He had kept it open.

Closing her eyes against the well of pain that came with the realization, Cordelia pushed Faith back, shutting the door. "Come on," she said hoarsely. "Let's go to your room." Faith, for once, had no stupid remark, no bullshit to say. "Have you seen Fred?" Cordelia asked, shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

"Crazy taco chick? Nuh-uh." Cordelia pursed her lips, considered going to Fred's room to check up on her, and remembered the last time she had accidentally woken up the Pylean from her deep sleep. She still had a bruise from the damned booby trap hanging from the door.

Faith was still, dragging Cordelia from her thoughts when she asked in a hard voice, "You don't think I really hurt him, did you?" Her brown eyes were dark, the question was phrased angrily, almost as if Faith was trying to convince herself she didn't care.

"I think he'll survive," Cordelia said carefully. "And trust me, he's going to get the chewing out of his LIFE tomorrow." Moving into Faith's room, she felt suddenly exhausted, the events of the last few hours harried and hectic, and terribly sad. It left her full of questions, full of needs, and the sight of Angel and Connor had only brought back the realization that whatever it was she thought she was doing, wasn't working. Her eyes closed, her figured trembled, and she took in a deep, shuddering sigh.

"Headache acting up again?" Faith asked, hanging up the leather jacket on the closet door knob.

Cordelia gave her a glance, considered asking about Wesley, knowing she'd get nothing but hostility in response. "Something like that."

Faith was quiet, nodding, pulling off her boots. "Seeing him like that really shook you up, didn't it?"

"Wesley?"

"Angel."

"Oh."

Faith came forward, bare feet padding against the wood as she stood at the edge of the bed.

"I miss Connor," Cordelia admitted, drawing her legs up onto the bed, leaning back on her pillows. "I just... I miss him. I miss Angel's eyes, when he watched me holding him... I miss Fred's stupid little songs - she put the variables to pi to a song, you know? It takes her hours to sing it..." Faith was silent, sinking down on the mattress next to her. "God... WHY did we have to screw this up?" Cordelia asked, slamming her hand down at the bed, suddenly angry. "LOOK at it - it's like summer camp..."

"So... you mad at Angel, because he tried to push you out, or you mad at yourself because you couldn't let him?" Soft eyes stared at her, and for once, Faith realized, she was truly seeing Cordelia. "I guess... I wanted to be different," Cordelia said finally. "I thought I was different. That this was different... but it's Sunnydale all over again, isn't it?" Faith shook her head almost fiercely, but the act died when her thoughts overwhelmed her. Sunnydale all over again. The same confliction, the same raw heartbreak... the same need for acceptance.

The same blue eyes -

"It's never different," Cordelia continued, wiping at her eyes fiercely. "Because I can fucking never be different. I'm Cordelia - and it doesn't matter if I'm dying from visions for him, it doesn't matter how much I love his son, I'm still only Cordelia. What the hell did I think I could do, when not even Buffy could save him?"

Dark despair permeated the room, and Faith couldn't take it. It was a weight bearing down upon her chest, and her own broken heart refused to let it sink in. It was too much for Cordelia to admit defeat, for Faith herself to acknowledge that even the self professed bitch was beaten by something that had broken them all. It wasn't fair. The tears welled in her eyes, almost painfully, and in an attempt to ward them off, she vaulted off the bed, opening her suitcase and pulling out clothes.

"Faith -"

"I don't believe it," she said fiercely. "I don't. And you can't make me believe that there's nothing out there for us, `C. You can't make me believe it."

"Faith -"

"I believe that, and what the hell am I fighting for?" she snapped, sucking her breath as she flung a shirt to the other side of the room. "What the hell is the payoff?"

"Faith -" Cordelia strode forward, gripping her shoulders, about to recriminate when something in the suitcase caught her eye. Reaching in, she plucked out a mechanical piece, eyeing it suspiciously. "What in the - OH EWW!" Dropping it on the bed, she jumped back.

The silent shock, coupled with the look of absolute horror on Cordelia's face, was enough to tear a giggle out of Faith's throat. When their eyes met, the laughter erupted, until the emotion that had been welling up in both women was released in long, loud peals of laugher, ending with both women collapsing on the bed, taking in deep breaths.

"I can't believe you have one of those!" Cordelia huffed.

"Hey, you can have it, " Faith said, picking it up and tossing it in her lap.

"I don't want it!"

"You might need it!"

"Faith!"

--

--

CHAPTER TWELVE

--

Late Night Friday - The Hyperion Hotel

The headache was now a dull throb. With each beat of her pulse, she still felt it, in every heartbeat. Swallowing hard, she massaged at her neck with trembling fingers, offering Faith a shaky smile as she slid off the bed. "I think I should go home," Cordelia said. "I shouldn't be here when he wakes up."

The Slayer held a dark gaze on her, leaning back against her pillows with practiced ease, despite the turbulence that Cordelia knew she must have been feeling. "Yeah, `cause the running? Working wonders, Cor."

"Oh yeah, you're one to talk," Cordelia snapped, and immediately winced, turning her head away to avoid seeing the expression on Faith's face. What was it about this girl that brought out the inner bitch? The silence was awkward, until Cordelia risked another look, only to find Faith's eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Wanna keep going on that topic?" she asked pointedly. "See how far that takes you to another black eye?"

"Hey, we're way past threatening now, bitch," Cordelia said flippantly, a smile emerging on her own face at Faith's smirk. "I know about your vibrator."

Faith couldn't help but grin at that. Sitting up, she took it, studying the contraption carefully, and then set it on top of Cordelia's purse.

"Oh, EWW." Cordelia's face displayed her disgust as she lifted her purse with a pinkie. "I'm going to have to burn this now."

The telephone next to the bed shook in its cradle, and Faith gave it a bored look, before reaching over, and putting it to her ear. "What the fuck is anyone doing calling at this hour?"

"FAITH!" Cordelia hissed, reaching forward with her hand.

"Oh yeah. Angel Investigations. You helpless, or what?"

"Oh, for goodness sakes!" Cordelia grabbed the phone from the laughing Faith's hand, glaring at her as she put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Cordelia?"

"Fred?" The voice on the other line sounded like Fred, but Cordelia wasn't quite ready to buy it. "What the hell are you still doing out?!"

"I... um... sorry?"

--

The telephone chimes, followed by the answering cry of Connor, pulled Angel from his sleep. Sitting up, Angel was disoriented, fitful dreams of memories and nightmares drifting together, flitting through his mind. The phone rang again. Gathering his son closer to his body, Angel reached a long arm over to the nightstand, voice thick with sleep as he prepared to answer it.

Instead, two voices drifting from the receiver caught his attention.

"Fine, Fred. Just be careful. And don't do it again."

"I won't - hey, I can stay out if I want to!"

"Fred..." Cordelia began in a warning tone. Cordelia? Angel sat up, narrowing his eyes at the phone, looking around the room with suspicion. Connor continued to wail, forcing Angel to finally hang up the phone. Cradling his son to him, feeling under his diaper automatically, Angel's fingers found the wetness of Connor's bottom. Grimacing, he pulled his hand out, holding it away from him as he smiled down at his son.

"Stinky little man."

Setting him up on the changing table, Angel mechanically began to perform what needed to be done, mind whirling on the phone call, recalling every word. Fred... staying out? And if Fred was out, that meant Cordelia had to have answered the phone, and if Cordelia had answered the -Faith. Angel paused, mind locked onto the laughter he heard in the background, and when Connor foot smacked at his hand in protest, he jerked himself out of his thoughts, reaching down to change the child.

"Sorry, kiddo," he said regretfully, fastening the last strap and kissing his forehead, depositing him into his crib, turning on the little wheel that Cordelia had bought him. It began to tinker the song she had chosen, some David Bowie tune. She had been so proud that she had found it. Her face when she had held it out had been amusing. A bright grin illuminated every feature, as she made a point of showing him every little elephant hanging from the wheel, every twinkle, all the while arguing with Gunn and Wesley that `Under Pressure' was a perfect song for the baby. He found himself smiling at the memory, shifting his finger so that Connor grabbed a hold, giggling and laughing at him, content and dry.

"Do you mind if I step out for a sec?" Angel whispered, gently scruffing the small down of Connor's hair, little blond tendrils finally peeking out on his previously bald head. Remnants of Darla, and it made the smile falter. One day he would tell Connor about her, teach him about the beauty that had sprung from darkness. The hope of a miracle that his child truly was. For now, Connor was blissfully ignorant, staring at his vampire daddy with a smile of affection, dancing eyes that were free from pain, free from hurt. More than anything, Angel wanted to keep them that way.

Sighing, he reached for Connor's teddy bear, setting it alongside his sleepy son, and moved back, out of the door, keeping the baby monitor in his hands as he walked down the hallway. Sensitized hearing alerted him to low whispers, laughter, some conversation. His stomach tightened, hand sliding against the plaster on the wall as he recognized Cordelia's voice.

Closing his eyes, bracing himself, he reached for the knob, pushing the door open.

Cordelia and Faith shifted their gazes toward the door, Faith's look blank, Cordelia's quickly turning to one of panic. She grabbed something from on top of the bed, and stuffed it into her purse. Angel's eyes narrowed, following the movement, missing Faith's smirk when his gaze locked with Cordelia's intensely.

"Hi."

"Hi," she responded evenly, crossing her arms, straightening away from the bed.

"Was that Fred on the phone?" he asked, finding he could think of nothing better to say.

"Uh... yeah." Cordelia offered a tense shrug, glancing at Faith as she responded. "Said she was staying `out' with Gunn. Some sort of librarian's slumber party. I didn't ask."

He frowned. "My guess is they're getting a hotel room," Faith said, arms behind her head.

"Oh. What?"

"She's joking, Angel. We don't know - Fred said she was fine, we left it at that."

Angel was surprised at her almost civil tone, mind still floating with questions at finding her in Faith's room, in his hotel. His gaze stayed on the soft hazel orbs. Until he heard her barely discernable quick intake of breath, saw the way her hands trembled slightly, and worry quickly overtook any other emotion.

"Cordelia... are you -" Stepping forward, he froze when he realized, that just as quickly, she stepped back, jerking away from him. Faith was quiet. Blinking, he brought his hands down, almost ashamed. "You're in pain," he said finally.

"Look," Cordelia said, her tone soft, and civil, but still not meeting his eyes. "I had a vision earlier today, and you didn't answer your phone, so... I need to teach you how to use your voicemail."

"You had a vision?" His voice was worried, but she only flashed him a quick smile, nodding quickly before motioning tiredly to Faith. The Slayer said nothing.

"It's fine, Faith took care of it." Her words came out incredibly civil, almost to the point of monotone, conversational at best. He continued to watch her, drawn back into staring into her eyes, hoping for a sign of what to do. "Cordelia," he finally began, voice lower now. "Maybe we should -"

"Angel..." Cordelia gave a short shake of her head, almost scared as she stepped back. "I can't, okay? There's too much to think about and... I'm sorry if I ignored you before, but, you had a point, okay? Maybe..."

"No, that's what I - I didn't."

"It's okay." She sucked in her breath, offered him a bright smile. "I have a headache, so I'm going to go."

"I can take you."

"Angel, no." Her voice was firm, eyes flashing with the force of her words. "It's not..." she sighed, blowing out her breath, offering him an awkward smile. "Things have changed, okay? You have things to do, I'll be fine. I've- we gotta start this off somewhere."

"I can take her home," Faith offered, rising from her position on the couch.

"No, Faith. You need to rest, okay?" Cordelia turned to her, looking away from Angel, allowing him time to stare at her searchingly, trying desperately to find a way to counter her stubborn pessimism. He had never seen it in her before. It didn't... fit.

"Get some rest," Cordelia reiterated. "And we'll talk later." There was tenderness between the Slayer and the Seer that hadn't been there before. It confused Angel, broken from his gaze with Cordelia to look

between the two, with eyes of a bewildered outsider.

"What about tomorrow?" he finally asked.

Cordelia slowly shook her head no. "I have plans," she said finally. Desperation was quickly building up inside of Angel. Her eyes locked once more with his, and the anger wasn't there, and instead seemed replaced with... sadness. To see the grimness in Cordelia's face made him almost wish for the anger.

"Cordelia," he began thickly.

"Bye," she said shortly, resisting another looking at the vampire before scooting around him, moving out the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Angel was quiet, eyes on the door, began to move toward it, when he heard Faith's short, "Don't."

He stumbled to a halt, glancing back at her.

"Just don't," she repeated. Faith's elbows rested on her knees, her eyes were sunken, sad. Her entire posture was rigid, and her tone was firm. "She's dealing with some shit, and it's not all about you, so don't. Give her time."

The words were final, Faith, who had before crumpled in his arms in sobs, now pushed herself to her feet, walking to the door, moving the handle, opening it for him. "Do yourself a favor, Ang," she said, shoulders shrugging. "And stop trying so hard. All you're doing is reminding her of shit she can't have, and she's suffering enough for you."

"Faith..." Angel's stricken whisper melted her features somewhat, as he moved forward, torn between reading the obvious pain in Faith's face, and going after Cordelia. "It's not... I care about her."

"I know," Faith said simply, sinking against the wall, eyes moistening slightly. "That's the only reason I haven't kicked your ass."

Leaving the door open, she moved to the bed, suddenly tired, and lowered her exhausted frame onto the mattress. Angel paused, and his heart thumped slightly. Memories of a lost, little girl sobbing in the rain slipped through him, and he found himself moving to her side.

"Faith," he began. "I've been meaning to talk to you..."

Stiffening, she gave him a startled look, and finally offered her old friend a disbelieving laugh. "Oh, man. You're not going to try for the heart to heart NOW, are you?"

He blinked, and when she gave another laugh, he smiled grimly back, shrugging. "Bad timing?"

"Oh, the worst." She gave him a nudge, however, indicating it was alright. "It's okay, Angel. You've been distracted."

His eyes moved again to the door, thoughts of Connor, Darla, Cordelia flitting through his mind. "Yes, I have." He sucked in a long breath. "But that doesn't mean-"

"I know. And you'll pay amply, in time." Faith was silent, her voice suddenly soft when she spoke again. "You're lost Angel, just like the rest of us."

"I don't know what to do," he finally said. "I don't know how to be a father, I don't know how to be anything to any of them..." He closed his eyes, a low, angry growl emitting from his throat, a fitting illustration to his anger. "I can't be anything to anyone."

She was still there when his eyes opened, watching him with a peculiar, sad expression, and without another word, Angel suddenly had an armful of a shuddering Slayer. Quiet, stunned, Angel only held her, carefully pulling the brown strands away from her face as she trembled.

"Faith-"

"Don't," she answered, words mumbled through the darkness of his shirt. "Just don't. I don't want to hear anything, I don't want to feel anything, ever again."

There was nothing Angel could do, holding Faith the way he had held her before, desperate and scared, as she sobbed softly in his embrace, tired body giving in to the emotion that had been buried within. In the end, he closed his eyes, kept his cheek against the top of her head, and pulled her closer. Just like before, he understood her anger, he understood her confliction, and more than ever, he felt it now. With a ragged sigh that his dead body would never need, Angel closed his eyes against thoughts of the woman he loved, against the son he was afraid to disappoint, against the grimness in Wesley's eyes, and against anything else in the world.

Just like Faith, for one second, he didn't want to feel a thing.

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

Kate Lockley sucked in her breath, perched on her bed, body tight with tension as she looked between the three brunettes who each spilled their story, one by one. With each revelation came new questions, and Kate was sure she wasn't the only one suspicious about the night that Faith eluded to with Angel. Faith's face was unreadable, posture loose, expression uncaring as she leaned back against the pillows she had used to cushion her place on the floor, fussing with a lost tendril of hair, pushing it back over her shoulder.

Fred gave a small, audible gulp, looking between her and Cordelia.

But the Seer's reaction was the most surprising, and it struck Kate, just how much she had changed in the three years she had known her. In her first year of employment at Angel Investigations, the brunette had been all smiles, rolling eyes, frivolous, and young. Impossibly young. Kate had remembered the feeling of suspicion and anger, another time she encountered the Seer, a year later, during Angel's `dark' period. Insistent on protecting the vampire, Cordelia stood up to her, with short hair and tired eyes, and her scathing comments had not been lost on the detective, who mentally noted everything. And now, here she was, with short, lightened hair, body visibly tired, eyes tinny, a beautiful antique. Cordelia appeared older than her twenty-one years, in posture, in body, in face.

The Cordelia of now didn't blurt out her response, she didn't lose her cool at the thought of her vampire- HER vampire, Kate noted. Interesting how possession of Angel had shifted to her during the night - spending the night with Faith. She instead cocked an eyebrow, and asked quietly, "Did you sleep?"

Faith looked up, eyes shifting with an almost nervous gesture, if Kate didn't know better. She managed a short, brusque, nod. Cordelia closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded back. "At least one of us did." Hazel eyes opened and met with the dark brown of Faith, and in the intense stare that was shared between the two women - and Kate was STILL not ruling out moira, despite what Fred said - was a conversation that was shared.

Fred caught it, sighing with relief when both women looked away, and whatever needed to be worked out, suddenly was.

"So, I have a question," Fred began, curiosity on her face as she shifted onto her knees. "How'd you know about Holtz and Faith? And how come Gunn and I never saw you with Justine?"

Faith gave a grim smile as she locked glances with Cordelia. "I avoided them like the plague," she said immediately. "It was that simple. And when the hell did you learn about that whole Holtz shit?"

"Duh. The next morning."

"You talked to Wes?" Faith asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Of course I did. I told you I was going to bitch him out."

--

Saturday Morning - Virginia's Condo

Wesley opened his eyes to find himself in a familiar, and yet, unfamiliar place. His hands brushed satin sheets, his tuxedo had been replaced with flannel pajamas. Confused, he narrowed his eyes, only to wince when his left eye seemed swollen shut.

"What the bloody-"

"You're awake."

At the voice, he swallowed, as suddenly everything fell into place. "Virginia?"

The redhead appeared at his side, holding a cup of tea, smiling apologetically. "Yeah... sorry. I would have... but you-" He stared at her blankly. She flushed, and rolled her eyes. "You got drunk? Started to ramble? All about the Slayer killer girl and you-"

"Oh, Lord." He groaned, falling back onto the pillows.

"-started talking about the wild monkey sex you two had, and about the amber darkness of her eyes - and mentioned something about a Justine - Wesley, how many women have you slept with since we broke up?"

He opened the good eye, found Virginia staring at him with open curiosity. He held up one finger. "Just that one."

"Ah." There was an awkward silence, and another quick flash of a smile, before she handed him the tea, and a pack of ice. "Well, you were no picnic taking home, I'll tell you that. All with the rambling and then with the talking about the scars - you're a very conflicted man, you know that?"

Wesley felt a headache coming on as he offered his ex-girlfriend a smile of thanks, taking the tea from her outstretched hands. "It's been an interesting year."

"Interesting choice in women, too. And Cordy's hair? I thought it was dark again. She looked tired to me. But the other one - did you really do it on Cordy's couch?"

"Bloody hell..." Wesley straightened as well as he could, his headache pounding now. "Why didn't you take me home?"

"You said your keys were in your pocket, and there was no way in hell I was putting my... `rich spoiled brat hands' down there." Virginia smirked. "Still a little bitter?"

"Bloody hell."

"You said that."

His gaze suddenly locked on his clothes. "But I let you undress me?"

"You were too passed out to argue."

"My clothes?" She pointed to the tux hanging on a nearby impeccably furnished chair. "I had the maid hang it up. That eye really looks bad, Wes. Maybe you should put a steak on it or something. I'd offer, but I don't have any food here. Javier hasn't gone shopping in ages. Insists that all I do is eat out."

"Javier?"

"Butler."

"Ah. What about Mark?"

"Got bored."

"I see." Shuffling his feet over the side of the bed, he winced again at the throbbing in his head. "How much did I drink?"

"A lot. You stunk. I have to wash those sheets. So... you had sex with your Slayer?"

"I... bloody -" He buried his head into his palms, shuddering. Parting his fingers, he peeked at Virginia. "Was she terribly mad?"

"She punched you out. Cordelia had to drag her away."

Cordelia. "She knows?"

"Yeap."

A tinny sound caught his attention, and he began to shuffle through the sheets. "Is that my cellphone?"

"Oh! Yeah." She began to help, looking under the bed. Wesley finally found it under a misshaped pillow.

"Hello?"

"WESLEY! YOU DAMNED BASTARD!" He winced, holding the receiver away. "YOU'VE GOT TEN SECONDS TO EXPLAIN WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT. TEN."

"Good morning, Cordelia."

"Don't you `good morning' me! You're the LAST man I expect to act like a dog, but if I hadn't pulled Faith away, you'd be ground beef!"

"Yes... I ... thanks for that."

"Thanks for NOTHING!"

"Is that Cordelia?" Wesley nodded to Virginia, and she smiled broadly. "OOH! Let me say hi!"

"Virginia -" But Virginia had already grabbed the phone away, smiling into the receiver.

"Cordy! Hi!" She listened, nodding, her red curls bobbing. "No, I'm great. Oh, he's great too. I KNOW! Did you see that fall line?" Wesley blinked. "Yeah. It's actually February. Oh, it's great! We'll totally have to go! Okay! Well, it was great talking to you! Yeah, totally. Coffee and - oh sure. Toodles!" She handed the phone back to Wesley, smiling. "She's so sweet."

Wesley took the phone trepidly, putting it gently to his ear. "Hello?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING AT VIRGINIA'S?!"

He winced, again pulling the phone further away from his splitting eardrums. "Cordelia, calm down -it's not what you -"

"It's one thing, Wesley, to mess with ONE woman. THAT's despicable enough. But now you've dragged VIRGINIA into it?!"

"I didn't drag her-"

"You are so MALE-"

"I bloody hell am NOT!"

"Do you want some breakfast?" Virginia asked suddenly, bouncing off the bed and heading to the doorway. Wesley suddenly felt as if he was in the middle of a cartoon.

"I'm still waiting. For some semblance of HOPE, Wesley, that you're still are half the woman I think you are."

"I -what?!" Wesley wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a rather horrible insult.

"EXPLAIN!"

"I... about what?"

"FAITH!"

"Oh." He blinked, taking a breath, trying to battle his headache with common sense. "Alright. Uh... yes, Faith and I... one - see I found out she was... with Holtz-"

"What does Holtz have to do with this?" she demanded.

"Nothing! Everything, bloody hell my head hurts." He sank down on the bed, looking up to see Virginia come in smiling with a tray.

"Toast!"

He gave her a patronizing grin, turning back to Cordelia. "Look, I was attempting to trace Faith's reason for being let out, and I started looking into her past visits and I discovered something."

"Okay. I'm listening," Cordelia said, sighing. "But I'm still VERY pissed off at you."

"Look ending up here wasn't my idea!"

"Right, and I'm sure you're NOT wearing those pj's you complained about her keeping."

"I'm not -" he gulped, looking down at his clothes. "I'm- that doesn't matter. What matters, is I found out Faith had been getting visits from a woman with connections to Holtz, and when I confronted her with the information -"

"You accidentally had sex with her instead?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that." He swallowed, and said almost timidly, "But... yes."

She sucked in her breath, shaking her head. "Goddammit, Wesley."

"I didn't mean to!"

"You didn't?! You are such a woman! Next thing you'll be telling me is that your clothes just HAPPENED to fall off, and you just HAPPENED to find the right hole to stick your -"

"CORDELIA!" he hissed into the phone, freezing when Virginia came forward.

"Butter or jam?"

He blinked. "What?"

She smiled, shaking two little packets at him. "Umm... neither."

"Okay!" Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Cordelia.

"Cordelia, it was a mistake."

"No shit, Sherlock! Wait... did you just say Faith is involved with HOLTZ?!"

He sighed. "Ah, you caught that little part of the conversation, did you?"

"Are you shitting me?"

He blinked. "Shitting you?"

"Oh, sorry. Faith is a bad influence..."

"Pardon-"

"Faith and HOLTZ!?"

"Nothing we should worry about- BLOODY HELL! VIRGINIA!" He jumped back, the toast falling into his lap.

"Sorry!" She reached for the toast, but froze at his look. "Right! I can't do that anymore... I'll be over here," she said, moving to the sofa. He sighed, shaking the crumbs off as he leaned into the phone.

"I don't EVEN want to know," Cordelia said dryly.

"Cordelia, the point is, I began to spend time with Faith and..."

"Decided to screw her?"

"NO! I wanted to help her! And unfortunately, things got a little out of... hand."

Cordelia sighed audibly, her voice almost normal as she said calmly, "You hurt her, Wes."

"I think my black eye is more than testament to the fact she hurt me, too."

"Oh please. You get black eyes all the time, but NO woman gets her heart broken and doesn't emerge - FUCK, Wesley."

"And again with the cursing."

"Hey! I just spent over six hours with YOUR one night stand, okay? And now, I'm wondering why I didn't let her kill you!"

"Cordelia, I care about her, all right? I care. I know I hurt her, I didn't mean to-"

"Fix it." He blinked.

"Pardon?"

"Fix. It." Cordelia enunciated. "Talk to her. Get down on one knee. Whatever you do, DON'T accidentally have sex with her again, and FIX IT. She's HURTING Wesley. Get down to the hotel, and TALK to her. You owe her at least that."

The phone call ended with a click, and Wesley sighed, the tightness of his chest constricted as he groaned, grabbing the dry piece of toast and glaring at it, seconds before tossing it away.

"So... you gotta go?" Virginia asked, munching on her bread. He looked up, saw her as well as he could with his headache and swollen eye, and managed a crooked, strained smile.

"Yes."

She nodded. There was an awkward silence, and Virginia said softly, "So... you're in love with a killer, hum?"

"What?"

"Faith."

He gave her a stunned glance, suddenly self conscious. "What makes you think that I-"

"You told me. Last night." Virginia offered a grim smile. "You do ramble like nobody's business when you're drunk, Wesley. It was really annoying." With that she stood, tossed him his suit, and walked out of the room.

He stood, his body aching, his heart pounding. "Why the hell do I end up with such insane women?" he mumbled, pulling off his shirt and reaching for his tuxedo. He needed to get to the hotel, as the words kept resonating in his head. He had hurt Faith. Bloody hell.

He must have looked like the bloody devil, as he walked into the Hyperion Lobby, body tense and on edge, moving toward the stairs. He had been in Faith's room once before, rummaging through her things in an attempt to find out her `intentions'. He had found nothing but a piece of machinery he had rather wanted to forget.

Now, walking to her room, he wondered exactly what he could say to her, what he would say that would make it better... This had been such a bloody - But could he go another day with the image of those dark eyes staring at him with horror, with the words that spilled from her full mouth?

She hated him.

He froze, shuddering, raking fingers through his hair, eyes on her closed door. She had looked at him with such eyes of ... dare he say it, love - before. That night. She had moved against him, skin against skin. It had been his mouth on her perfect breasts, his hands roaming over her body. She had given possession to him. She had made love to him. It had been... bloody beautiful... and now, she hated him. Because he hurt her.

Who the bloody hell was he kidding? He took the final steps, heart broken and heavy. He would do whatever it took. Let her punch him again if need be, just to get her to listen to him. To listen to the broken ramblings of his heart, to try and understand how this had swept them both away and just maybe -

Frozen, Wesley's mouth dropped open at the sight that befell him. There was nothing more he could do but wince, close his good eye, and push away from the door, walking down the hallway, away from the image of Faith and Angel, asleep in each others arms, in Faith's bed.

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

Charles Gunn sat still on the sofa, his hands again moving over the fabric, mind awash with images of his last encounter with Fred on this very...

"You're going to wash that."

Charles looked up, glared at the vampire, but nodded. "Yeah."

Angel crossed his arms, looked over his shoulder to where Wesley was speaking quietly with Lorne.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

Startled, Gunn just stared at him. "Say what?"

"About... you know... lately. I should have been there for you."

Charles was silent, lips pursed together as he studied the vampire. "Hey," he finally said, shrugging. "Not like I gave you much of a chance, right, dog?" The two men fell silent, and Gunn added, "I'm sorry, too."

"So... we're both sorry."

"I guess."

Angel remained standing, arms crossed, but a slow smile drifted across his face, despite the grim look in his eyes. "I'm family, huh?"

"Don't push it," Gunn warned.

"Never," Angel replied, a dead pan look on his face. Charles sighed, leaning his head back against the couch.

"Where do you think the girls are?"

Angel was quiet, his response not coming out right away. "I don't know. Maybe at Cordelia's."

"Yeah... and how come you're not over there?" Gunn said, finally sighing in frustration and waving his hand emphatically. "Geez, man, siddown! I can't talk to you when you're all... standing and stuff! I'm getting a crooked neck!" he exclaimed, massaging at his neck, looking back down at his lap.

"I told you, I'm not sitting there."

Gunn shot him a look, but didn't argue further, instead going quiet, eyes suddenly taking a distracted glaze. "Angel," he said finally. "When you first ran into Faith, after she tried to kill you and all that, how'd you know that she really... you know... wanted to change?"

Angel pursed his lips, dark eyes intense as he pondered Gunn's reasons for asking such a question. But the tone was sincere, and Charles' expression was serious as he gazed imploringly at the vampire.

"Justine?" he asked shrewdly. The expression he received was a grim one, as the bald man nodded, scratching at his head, leaning back on the couch, hands together in a gesture of anxiety.

"I just... she said she wanted to change, Angel. Talked about stuff, and... someone had to believe her, right?"

Angel slipped his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed and remained quiet. Gunn didn't need an answer, he needed the right questions, and Angel didn't have them. Who could know exactly what lay in a person's heart?

"Gunn... there are moments that you just have to take that chance. Sometimes, if one person is willing to believe in you, that's all it takes."

"Like Faith?" he asked.

Angel pursed his lips, lost in contemplation. "Maybe. I don't think that was all of it. Faith was lost, she was looking for a way out, either way. She was tired of the pain, the emptiness. She wanted to end it. One way or another."

Gunn sighed, closing his eyes, shoulders slumping with the invisible burden that always came with caring. "I just... I don't know what to believe. I want to help her, man, but what if-..." he trailed off, lifting his chin to regard the vampire. "You're not gonna give me an answer, are you?"

Angel smiled, never more understanding of the young man's plight than now. "No, Gunn. I won't. But whatever you decided, I'll be behind you."

Charles finally smiled, chucking at Angel's hand affectionately, if not a little sadly. "Thanks," he said.

And he meant it.

--

Saturday Morning - Rondell's Warehouse

Charles had some roamy hands when he was asleep. Fred stayed completely still, eyes open and curious as she nestled in Gunn's embrace, on the old mattress that had been assigned to them to sleep the night away in the old warehouse. The night had passed somberly, with Charles fighting a headache most of the time, but thankfully, the wound had proved not to be TOO dangerous. No concussion, or head injuries. And it had ended in this kinda nice way. Reminded Fred almost like summer camp, with the whole sleeping on the floor thing. Except in summer camp, she liked to stay inside and read, was afraid of the bugs, and even more afraid of the boys.

Gunn slept like a big old bear, too. He snored, big raking snores that vibrated through his chest and made her back tingle, as his cheek brushed against hers. And if he was a big old bear, then she was his teddy bear, `cause the whole night, he would NOT let her go. Fred hadn't been uncomfortable with it. After the night that had passed, along with the fear that had come with it, Fred was glad to still have him in her arms, the comforting reassurance of his weight against hers, of his hands flat against her stomach, pulling her into his side. It was nice, and safe, considering the circumstances. But it was just a little more than friendly.

Fred frowned, eyes moving over the other boys and girls that were sleeping on mattresses and cots and sometimes boxes and coats, before turning to Charles, moving so that his hands now splayed over her back. That done, she studied his sleeping face. It was different than she had seen it, and it made her smile, to see that look on his face. He drooled a little, and despite the fact that any other time, she might have found that just a little bit icky, she still smiled. Big old bear. But not hairy. Charles wasn't hairy at all. Biting her lip in concentration, she traced her fingers over his arms, wishing that the sweater could be gone and she could feel the smooth skin underneath. Even a nice head. Her fingers drifted toward the dome, and she never really considered bald men handsome before, but Gunn could pull it off.

Was it friendly to have the queasy feeling in her stomach? Was it friendly to spend two straight nights sleeping together, and one of them spent... not exactly sleeping? Was it really just friendly to be able to know exactly what Gunn looked like? Well... all of him? Her cheeks burned at the thought, coming along with the realization that she would most likely not like Cordelia seeing all of Gunn, and especially not Faith. Wrapping her arms around her big bear protectively, Fred settled against him, brushing her lips against his softly, before closing her eyes.

He wasn't lost. He was right here. With her. She had been with him, and he wasn't lost. She hadn't lost him. The thought filled her with such contentment, she felt her heart thump against his chest, and she liked it. This not getting lost, together. It was... safe, and nice... and friendly.

And not.

It was probably mid morning, ten maybe, when Rondell shook her shoulder slightly, disturbing her from her thoughts and giving her a silent stare.

"Come get some coffee," he finally said, motioning with a jerk of his head, to the door. Fred looked at him blankly, but when he gave her a grim stare, she finally nodded, carefully extracting herself from Gunn's embrace, running fingers over the scab on his forehead.

"Is there a store around here?" she whispered. "I should probably get some more cleaning stuff for Gunn's head."

"Yeah. Come on."

Outside, it was a warm seventy-five degrees, and Fred only needed her light sweater. She was thankful for that, considering she only wore the light dress. The coffee cup steaming in her hands, and the bag of supplies under one arm, she had to wonder exactly what Rondell wanted by asking her to come alone. Her eyes were wide and questioning as she sipped on the bitter liquid, using the drinking as an excuse not to speak, as the young black man walked beside her, jaw ticking with obvious tension.

It was in her nature to ramble, to do anything to fill the silence as the two walked now, but somehow, that seemed wrong right now, and she kept her mouth shut, except when she was drinking, for fear that she would do exactly that. Even now, her mind was distracted with observations that were itching to float onto her tongue, such as the white cat that was walking past the ladder, and would people still think it was bad luck if it wasn't, and if that was true, would it be racist to think so -

"Fred."

She blinked, turning to catch his eyes, giving a short, grim smile. "Mmhmm?"

Rondell paused, posture tight with unease as he regarded her. "You two had no intention of coming to join us, did you?"

The liquid in her mouth choked her unexpectedly, and she coughed, leaning forward, face going red with the hacking. He was patient, waiting for her to regain her senses, spitting out the black stuff, and pushing her glasses further up her nose, blinking at him. "What?"

His gaze remained firm as he repeated the question. "You two weren't gonna join us, right?"

She knew why he hadn't asked Gunn. Fred seemed utterly incapable of telling a lie. She had spent so many years among the lies and deception of Pylea, and now, honestly was the one thing that was left for her. Utterly refreshing, even when it hurt, it was what she appreciated in Angel when she first met him. There were no lies about him, nothing... deceiving. Gunn also held that blatant honestly, but even now... She was finding herself increasingly uneasy with the complication of his mind.

"I wasn't, no," she admitted, offering a meek smile, slowly raising her coffee cup, gripped between two palms, to her mouth. "But, Gunn... he did it because he was worried, Rondell. He cared. He still does. A lot."

Rondell's eyes narrowed. "That's why he left, then, huh?" he answered, his tone dry.

"I don't know why he left, Rondell," Fred said honestly. "I don't know why he considered coming back, or even why he sleeps with me. But I do know that he's got a heart. And he cares so much, it hurts him. Because he can't be everything for everybody." Her smile trembled slightly, eyes darkening in thought. "And he feels like he has to be. In his life, he's never been less than everything. It makes you hurt."

Fred wasn't sure if Rondell quite understood what she was saying, but her fingers were trembling slightly against her coffee cup and her teeth chattered, and he offered her a grim smile behind moistened eyes, before stringing an affectionate arm around her shoulder and leading her back to the warehouse.

"You know what, for a freaky pretty little white girl, you're all right, Fred."

She rolled her eyes, but nudged him in his ribs. "You're alright too, Rondell. You know, for someone who once held a gun to my face."

"Never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"I tend not to forget a lot," she answered honestly. "It's not my fault. My mind just works that way."

Walking into the darkened hallway, she moved back to the room that held the old mattress, that held Gunn, and found her steps faltering when she found another body on the mattress, in Gunn's arms.

The other person had red hair.

--

--

CHAPTER THIRTEEN --

Saturday Mid-Morning - The Hyperion Hotel

For Faith, the onslaught of the morning brought both relief, and distress. Relief from the nightmares that came relentless through her hazy nights, and distress, because with the morning, came the sun; and with the sun, came reality. Her eyes blinked against the light that flooded the room, twisting her body, freezing when her palm ran over a sweater, pushing against a still chest. Sitting up in shock, she blinked, pushing her hair out of her face as she realized that Angel was sleeping in her bed.

Oh, crap.

He blinked at the movement, stirring, and turning, his eyes caught hers. It took one second, before he was sitting right up there with her.

"Hi."

"Hi." He pursed his lips, his weight resting on one hand, looking around the room. "Did we -"

"Fall asleep?" Faith asked immediately. "Yeah. Sleep. That's what we did. That's ALL we did... right?"

He narrowed his eyes, but answered immediately. "Yes."

"Oh, thank God." Thanking God that she hadn't done anything of the nookie sort with Angel was something Faith never really expected to do, but now, her entire body flooded with relief, and she gave him a weak smile. "I just... wow."

The response was enough to make him smile, swinging his legs off the bed and stretching once, his large, lean body something to admire. In her bed. But it was okay. Cause they just slept. Friends did that, right? Crap. If Cordelia heard about this -

"I better check on Connor." He immediately went to the door, and unsure why she was adopting the lost puppy route, Faith followed, padding after him in bare feet. She had a headache, that was apparent. Body spent and tired, even from the night of rest, Faith found that the sleep had done nothing to ease the tension in her form. Muscles ached, and inside of her, there was a coiled spring, ready to uncoil, lash out - and it was damn painful, having that inside of her.

Tightness splintered in her chest. And that had to be why Faith followed the vampire. Suddenly lost, that last thing she wanted was to be alone. Bad things happened when she was alone, when she was unneeded. Hands involuntarily curled into fists, and her breath hitched as she fought off another thought of Wesley, and AGAIN, the bastard refused to remove himself from her thoughts. It was just one night. One stupid fuck. What the hell was so different about this? It wasn't different at all.

"Faith?"

The uncertain tone distracted her from her thoughts, and Faith turned gratefully, breathlessly, into the room she recognized as Angel's, found him leaning over an old looking crib. Stepping back helplessly, Faith's mouth opened in startled recognition, when she realized Angel had that baby in his hands, and was walking towards HER with it.

"Uh..."

"Come on..." He offered her a smile, and damn, Cordelia was right, he really did look good when he smiled.

"I really don't think that's a good idea - okay." Faith gave a small pant of insecurity, as the small bundle of living baby, was placed into her hands. Babies... okay, she had held him before, no big deal. Connor stared up at her curiously, as she shifted his weight, trying to remember stuff that she had once heard about holding babies. Like the football, support that head- that was a big one. Gotta support the big, bald head. Getting past the fear of the kid might have been some thing on that list, too. Breathing out raggedly, she shot the vampire an uncertain smile and looked back down at the child, finally taking the time to study him. So... this was the miracle child, huh? She wrinkled her nose, when he began to wiggle, kicking strong socked feet against her, and nuzzling his face into her cleavage.

"Uh... Angel, I think your baby is a perv."

Angel laughed, and she looked up self consciously, but found him only shaking his head. "He's hungry, Faith. Come on." Taking her by the shoulders, he steered towards the door, and it struck her again just how... homey Angel's room. There was a lampshade, there were curtains. There was a little night light in the corner, toys thrown haphazardly around the room. Her mind swiveled back for one brief second to his large, secluded mansion in Sunnydale. Barren, cold.

A man with dark eyes, and dark pain, with a power to do evil that she had craved. He had been Buffy's, and she had wanted him, if not for his demon, for that very reason. Now, his hands were there on her shoulders, his smile was small and almost faltering, his handsome face was distracted, again. Six days ago, she had seem him really smile, at a vision of a brunette haired Seer, holding a child, with cold hazel eyes and a warm smile.

"Angel..." she paused, turning around hesitantly. Licking her lips, she stared at him.

"What is it?" The concern in his voice melted her, and her eyes went soft, moist at his pain.

"I know where Cordelia is." He paused, stiffened, and then gave her a grim smile, carefully taking Connor from her arms, and pushing around her, jogging down the stairs carefully. She waited, somewhat dumbstruck with the fact that Angel had just completely ignored what she had just said. Never one for being completely disregarded, she followed him, running down the stairs, and turning into the lobby, where he stood, his back to her, putting some bottle into microwave.

"Angel, did you hear me?" she repeated, irritation drifting into her tone. "I know where she is, today."

"That's great, Faith," he said tersely, never even shooting her a look.

She waited again, and took a breath, coming around the counter to grab his arm, forcing him to face her. "That's a hint," she suggested, eyebrow arching with barely constrained impatience. "That you maybe go talk to her."

He shook her off, holding his son closer, settling into an old wooden chair that was pushed into the industrial sized kitchen, looking down at his son. "She said to give her time, Faith. I'm tired of fighting with her. I'm tired of arguing..." The volume of his voice was quickly rising in volume. "Why is this any of your business?"

Yeah, Faith, she found her inner monologue coming forth. Why the hell DO you care? It's NOT your business who the hell Angel screws. It's not your business, and who the hell are you to fuck with Cordelia's chance at a good time?

"Because she loves you, and I know it, and so do you." Faith blinked, surprised at the outright way she answered herself. Squaring her shoulders, she stared at him defiantly, her heart tremoring in her body, one solid shake that she felt, a chill overtaking her body at her realization. "And someone on this damn world deserves to be god-damn fucking happy, all right? Someone needs to know how the hell it feels to love someone with all your damn heart, so much that you're willing to DIE for them. Someone needs to be with a guy, to have him fill her, and give her one second of peace and NOT turn evil the next day."

He flinched, moving back, mouth parting in a dumbstruck way that looked almost foreign on Angel's beautifully formed face. The tears slipped down her cheek almost unnoticed, and surprised, she wiped at her eyes, coughing and turning away, wavering, and then turning back, grabbing the baby from him and holding the bottle at an awkward angle.

"Okay, Angel. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, okay? Cordy's fucking clueless. She's just clueless. She runs around playing Mommy, and doesn't know the first thing about it. Not like any of us do, right?" Swallowing past the hard lump that had emerged in her throat, she sat down on her chair. "And she's a stubborn ass, too. So you just grab her, shove your tongue into her mouth - or something you consider romantic," she amended, when his jaw dropped. "And make her believe in you. You make her, Angel."

He was quiet, hands dropping to his sides. Faith continued to stare at him, almost as if she was daring him to contradict her, to tell her that everything she said wasn't exactly what he didn't want to do at that exact second. But the vampire took the hint, suddenly jerking to the coat hanger in the corner, grabbing his dark black trenchcoat, slipping it on. "Where is she?" he asked, his words coming out in a tumbled rush of breath.

The way her face slid into that big old grin was almost embarrassing, but Faith couldn't help it, as she shifted Connor in her arms, and said lightly, "Beverly Hills Country Club. Pre-Party luncheon."

"The country club."

"Yeap."

He turned, striding to the door, and Faith could have sworn she heard trumpets and violins in his wake. Pushing herself up out of the chair, she watched his exit with a small smile on her face. Curse smurse. At least he could try and get Cordy off, give her mind a break from those damned visions by giving her a damned good orgasm.

Alone in the hotel once more, Faith was suddenly faced with grim reality, when her eyes drifted down and she discovered she was holding the bottle in a completely foreign way, and poor Connor was trying to do freaking acrobatics to get the nipple into his mouth. She watched for a second, and then took mercy, placing the bottle over his mouth, letting him suck on the tip greedily. "Perv," she said again, grinning at the kid, smile faltering as her gaze drifted over the empty hotel.

It was empty to the point of suffocation, but Faith didn't mind the space, or the fact that she was alone. The loneliness she had learned to dealt with, and she was glad that there was no one here now, to witness the tremor in her heart, the way her eyes closed against the images that assaulted her when her mind told her it was all clear to reminisce. Self-directed anger jolted her eyes open, and she gasped, shaking her head against the memories that had held her captive.

FUCK.

A very clear, very audible snore came out of nowhere.

Faith froze, hands tightening around little Connor, suddenly hit with the dreadful fear that was shifted her breath and made her narrow her eyes in panic. She wasn't alone. Immediately, her face swiveled in the direction of the noise, and there, through an open doorway, she saw a man sleeping on a desk... Oh, God. How could she have-

Her heart tore, raw and bleeding inside of her. Once again, it astounded her at this pain, making her shiver and shake- betrayal and anger she had only felt once before: with Buffy. And here, and now, she was once again alone, but there was a child in her arms, and he was asleep, and... oh God, had she hurt him?

Biting her lip in an effort to contain any embarrassing whimpering that might have occurred, Faith began to walk forward hesitantly, looking down at the happily slurping Connor for reassurance that he would not give her stalking away. In his domain, his office, she still felt foreign, invasive, as she walked one step at a time, moving around a fallen book and reaching the edge of the desk.

There he was, eyes closed, body numb, torso splayed over the desk amidst various books and open notepads. She held Connor closer, shifting him and moving around the desk, trying desperately to ignore the way her breath sped up, the way her heart pounded inside of her weak body. Gulping down the emotion, she stared, the way his chin sloped slightly. She must have had hit the other eye, because the one available to her was closed, with beautifully long eyelashes that touched his skin.

Yet AGAIN, the urge to touch him rose within her. Dammit. She looked toward the door, and the realization came to her nagging body that it would probably be a good idea to leave before the bastard awoke, but her eyes returned to linger on his lips, on his closed eye, faintly catching the bruise that was hidden from his profiled face. Connor was eerily silent, staring up at her with a solemn expression. Faith tried to ignore it, biting down on her the meaty portion of her lower lip as her fingers drifted toward his features.

His lips brushing over hers, his palms as they caressed her cheeks, his eyes as he told her to go slow...

"Hidey Ho, Winslows!!"

Jerking her hand back, she stumbled in surprise, bumping into the bookcase and nearly disrupting the slew of tomes that lay scattered across it. Eyes widened in panic when Wesley began to stir, and stumbling forward, she moved as quickly as she could to the entrance, running through, only to almost plow into the green guy.

"Woooaah!" Lorne stepped back, arms splayed out, an apologetic grin on his face. "Chill with the speed limit, sweetie. This is a `no running with the baby zone'!" he said, grinning. "And what a cute little tyke he is! Angel around, lemme see the little munchkin..." Lorne drifted off, eyes moving up to glance at her, a small frown over taking his face.

Oh, shit. He was doing it. He was trying to read her. The bastard was going to read her, and that was bad -

"Here," she said hastily, shoving the kid into Lorne's arms and pushing past him, sprinting up the stairs. Lorne stared after her, perplexed. Scratching at his fairly itchy horns, he once again sniffed himself, before finally giving up, heading for his room. Still... his senses made him pause, look back to the door of Wesley's office and back up thoughtfully to the stairs that Faith had taken.

The girl was once complicated aura, too complicated, and after the rough morning of fighting over prices and legal issues that abounded when one was a green skinned, red horned demon, he was not exactly in the mood to attempt to deconstruct. Cradling Connor to him, Lorne bemoaned the fact that he once again, was stuck with babysitting duty. Did these guys just unanimously forget that he was the Host? Bad ass messenger to the Powers that Be?

The last place he wanted to be was in the Love Hotel - hell there wasn't even a good theme song. Lorne closed his eyes, sighed, and with Angel's baby in his arms, headed to his room. He just wanted to sleep.

--

Present - The Hyperion Hotel

Krevlorneswath of the Deathwock clan was a drama queen. He was the first to admit it. There was nothing particularly wrong with that assumption or with admitting to that. He enjoyed making the most out of a situation, enjoyed drinking, biting into the irony of life, discovering the soul of pain, the aura of love - the sweet, bitter pulse of life.

What he did NOT enjoy, was everyone looking at him, like he actually KNEW what to do about every little romantic quibble that went his way. Who did he look like, cupid? Wings? Please. Sighing, he scratched at his horns, grimacing in his own dark corner, doing the thing that Angel liked best. Honestly, maybe this whole brooding thing was entirely underrated. Angelcakes had done it for a couple hundred years, and heck, even Brown Eyes was getting into the act.

The fact of the matter was, the more this night wore on, the more impossible the entire situation seemed. The place was rife with confliction, and once again, Lorne bemoaned the fact he had chosen to hook up with these wannabe Melrose residents at all. The baby was perhaps the only perk.

As of now, Gunn, Wesley, and even Mr. Broody were looking for him to solve an insolvable problem. What was he? Mr. Fix-it? He couldn't get a freaking sanctuary spell to work, for Chrissake. Retreating to this dark corner for a brief moment of silence before he continued to hear their story had been a last resource, a last ditch effort to avoid the urge to slam their skulls together. He was a lover, not a fighter, but after a night with these broody, handsome idiots, he was seriously rethinking his mantra.

The phone rang, and listlessly, he picked up, certainly not his charming self. "Angel Investigations."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "I... uh... hi. May I speak to Lorne, please?"

"Speaking, you lucky flutter budget."

"Oh." The line on the other side was unfamiliar, and Lorne frowned, listening carefully, before he got a harried, husky tone again. "Uh... hi. I- my name is Kate. I'm a ... friend, I guess, of Cordelia's, and she said I couldn't call Angel."

"Oh, she did, did she?"

"They don't know I'm calling. Right now they're all... Bonding, I guess. Look..." the whisper got lower. "I just want you to tell Angel that they're okay. I'll get them home as soon as the liquor wears off."

"That Cordy." Lorne leaned his head against the wall, resignation in his tone. "Brown Eyes certainly is a colorful character when she lays out the Tequilia's."

"Who?"

"Cordelia."

"Her eyes are hazel." The voice was flat, matter-of-fact. No room for nonsense, no exploration or embellishment, and it was enough to irritate Lorne just slightly.

"Fine, Ms. `Nit-picky'," he said, somewhat aggravated. "You're Miss `I see the glass half empty and dribbling', aren't you?"

"What?!"

"Rain on my rather colorful parade. That's a damned cute nickname, I'll have you know. Better than `crazy cop lady', any day."

By now the bewildered voice fell silent. He could almost hear her mind whirling, attempting to process the words.

Finally, she blurted out, "Who calls me that?"

"Doesn't matter. They're safe, I got it, thanks-"

"Wait!" The voice interrupted before he could hang up. "I just... Cordelia called you The Host."

"Former, sweetie. I am the Host of nothing, lately."

"But you still help people, right?"

He closed his eyes, dreading what was coming next. "Reluctantly, yes."

"I don't know what to tell these girls. I keep getting the feeling that they want me to... give them some sort of freaking advice, and considering I'm a poster child for dysfunctional family ties, I don't think -"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Lorne sat up, suddenly exasperated. "Now why does everyone think I've got the answers? What am I? God? I don't know what to do! I screw up, too, you know!"

"I heard you're green."

"What?!"

"That true?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" he snapped.

"Nothing. Just a thought that crossed my mind, wanted to ask it," she answered matter-of-factly. "Now calm down. The last thing I want is help from a green guy, no offense. But Cordelia's greatest logic at this moment in a case for MY wisdom, is that fact that I'm BLONDE, so who the hell am I to judge?"

The comment was ludicrous enough to make him smile, and he had the distinct impression he had just been played, as he sank back against the wall and blew out his breath. "So?" he asked flatly. "What do you want from me?"

Kate was hesitant to answer that, cupping the phone closer to her, pulling the wire under the bathroom. "I don't know," she said honestly. "But I think... something has to be done. Fred and Faith's problems... as complex as they sound - that's just love. Misunderstandings and anger and yeah, it hurts, but it can be fixed..."

"But Angel and Cordelia is much deeper," Lorne answered shrewdly.

Biting her lip, Kate sighed. "I don't know if it can be fixed."

"I know it can't."

She was quiet for only a second. "So? What do we do?"

"Nothing." He closed his eyes, dreading the sentence, knew that he had to say it. "I've coddled Angelcakes too much. For this one, he's on his own."

--

Saturday Morning - The Warehouse

When his hand reached for the body he had become accustomed to feeling, and found nothing, Charles' eyes blinked open, sitting up on the bed in near panic.

"She'll be back. Don't freak." He blinked, turning and focusing his eyes, trying to wipe away the sleep, and encountered Justine sitting on the mattress, inches away from him.

"What the FUCK?!" Scooting back, he nearly toppled off the mattress in his explosion of anger, and it startled her, the self confident stance fading away as she stood, away from him.

"Uh... hi."

"What are you doing here?!" he demanded, standing up now, reaching for his sweater and eyeing the room for weapons.

"One of the boys let me in, I needed to talk-"

"Get out."

Her eyes narrowed, green glittered with anger. "It's not your place to tell me to get out, CHARLES," she said, her words mocking and sadistic. "You chose your family, didn't you?"

He froze, stumbling a little in an effort to return life to his still woozy body. "I said, `get out'."

"Gunn... I'm sorry." Her voice was completely different now, suddenly sinking against the mattress, body trembling as she sat with her back to him, almost as if she couldn't face him. "Dammit... I didn't - this isn't what I came here for."

He paused, eyeing her warily, knowing he didn't want to ask, and also knowing he couldn't help it. "What did you come here for?"

Her eyes were on the dusty floor, flinger fussing idly with the clasps on her leather jacket. Her form was slumped, no longer on her damned high horse, and it threw Charles, made him wonder, mind drifting back to a phone call. Later on, he would probably question why he did this, why he stuck his hands in his pockets and waited, why he never doubted that there was no danger in her being here, when he would still see Holtz and shoot the bastard at first sight.

"Did you really mean it?" she finally asked dully. "What you said about family? Because... you had a family. A real one."

A sister.

He swallowed hard, trying to fight off the pain as he closed his eyes, her image flashing over his brain. His young baby girl. Tough and hard, and sensitive and sweet. Vulnerable and strong... Dead and dying....

"Yeah. I had a familiy." His voice was hoarse, and a little bit angry, an indication he wasn't glad she brought it up.

"But you've got another one. A vampire..." she closed her eyes. "And you... help people. How did you do that?"

Confusion swamped him as he studied her blankly, eyes shifting over the room in a sudden effort to locate Fred. "Do what?"

"Make the emptiness stop." Her breath was rushed, unsteady as she put out her words. "The ache in your stomach, the need to grab something and destroy it, to do anything to make it stop. How'd you do that?"

A sudden chill went over him, raw, searing pain settled into his stomach and he nearly lurched, clarity coming with a single glance. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Justine was... fuck...

"You lost someone?"

He got a barely perceptible nod in response.

"Who?"

"A sister." The answer was so low he almost missed it.

Unsure what to do now, Gunn's fists clenched, looked around the room again, and this time, was grateful Fred wasn't around. She was understanding, but... this was something very few people could get. But he got it. The nightmares he had was proof about how much he got it.

Carefully, he stepped around the mattress, sinking down on it next to her, arms resting on his kneecaps as he stared straight ahead, careful not to touch her.

"It's not gonna stop." She was quiet. "It's not gonna stop," he said again. "It don't matter how many of those lives you destroy, how many vamps you kill, it ain't gonna stop. It's gonna eat at you and eat at you until you've got nothing left inside you but hate. And it's so painful, you'd chew your left arm off to make it stop, to shake it off... but it doesn't." He swallowed down hard. "Not until you... not until you let it go."

"I can't." It was choked, angry.

"You have to."

"I can't."

"You have to."

"FUCK you, Charles." And then she began to cry. He tilted his head to watch, her body crumpling, giving way to the sobs that seemed pent up. He waited. He knew. The sobs kept coming, and when she turned into him, he was ready, pulling her into him, holding her tightly, letting Justine break against the pain of the wall of hate that had been built, brick by brick. His shirt was sodden when they reduced to a whimper, but he gave her a smile when she looked up hesitantly.

"I don't know what to do," she said honestly.

He had no answer, but locked their dark eyes in an intense gaze, pondering what to do with a broken girl when he was broken himself, and then heard the soft cry that drifted through the room.

When he looked up, he saw the look of betrayed shock on Fred's face. He saw the way the bag fell from her lifeless fingers, and he was up in an instant, grabbing her by the elbow before she could run away, pulling her back and into another room.

"It's not what you think," he said immediately.

Fred Burkle knew exactly what he thought she thought, and she also `thought' it was downright ridiculous to think she would assume that Charles would have sex with Justine in a room with a bunch of other sleeping people. But it didn't stop the pain, or the suspicion.

"You actually trust her?" she said incredulously. "Gunn, do you REMEMBER last night?"

"She wants to change."

"She never said that?!" Fred's heart was pounding almost painfully. Stepping back, craning her head to look up into his eyes, she had never noticed his height until now. He was so tall, looking down at her like that, and Fred had never felt stupid in her life, but she felt stupid now, and she had no idea why she felt so... stupid.

"Fred..." he licked his lips, tried again to get past Fred's irrational - okay, a little rational. Justine HAD tried to kill them last night - anger. "I think I can help her. That's all she's asking for."

By this time, she had managed to regain some of her control, crossing her arms stiffly and looking down. "She's playin' you, Charles." Eyes opened wide, imploring her friend to believe her. "She's got you where you're vulnerable."

"What? My sister?" Charles shook his head, almost wincing at the mention of it. "That ain't like her, or Holtz. They ain't deceivers."

"What? Now you know them? Charles, he wasn't above killing YOU!"

"That wasn't her!"

"Oh, make up your mind!" Fred turned away, huffing and holding hands to her ringing head. "You say one thing, do another. First we're family, next no one understands you. You have all these mixed priorities and it's a jumbled box of crayons, where I can't find the red -"

"What are you talking about?" Gunn asked, confused, voice tilting slightly as she shifted, pushing her hair out of her face in a nervous gesture. She shifted again, and he blinked, taking a step back in surprise. "Fred, I thought you said, you trusted me."

The hurt on his face was enough to sear her, to make her eyes well up with tears, for her anger to ebb away, just a little bit. Feeling her frustration overwhelm her, Fred closed her eyes, tried to regain control, and did her best not to look at the hurt expression in Gunn's face.

"I do," she said finally, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly. "I just... Gunn, I don't trust her."

"But you said you trusted me, right?" he repeated, coming forward, trying to touch her, and she couldn't handle that now. Not his big palms on her shoulders, not his heat sinking into her skin. She stepped back, body shuddering with anticipation and fear. "Fred - you took a chance, didn't you? You took a chance on ME. It's all about taking that chance -"

"I'm not going to take a chance with HER, Charles," Fred insisted stubbornly, never more aware of her mother's constant insistence that Fred could be as stubborn as an ox when she wanted to be, and that was both a blessing and a curse. She wanted to believe Gunn, she did. And she wanted to look at Justine and be able to believe that she truly wanted to change, but her mind was still ringing with the images of the woman in Gunn's arms, and it wasn't RIGHT. It wasn't supposed to make her feel this way, like a twisted up knot, and it had never physically HURT before. So that she wanted to suffocate and just hit something.

"How can you..." His hands fell to his side, and he turned away from her, posture tense and angry, finally losing patience.

"It's not like you need my assurance, Gunn," she found herself stumbling through, eyes narrowing as her mouth once again ran away from her. "It's not like -"

"Not like what?" he snapped, turning back, eyes narrowed and angry. "Not like what, Fred?"

"Not like-"

"You're my girlfriend? Not like I need and care about you? Not like I care that you're the only person I know who's never given up on me, turned their back on me, CARED about me, and UNDERSTOOD?!" She shrank back as his voice got louder, more and more angry, and she had never seen his face like that. Dark and angry and, just a little bit scary. His words were rushed, and they made her take in a deep breath. He waited a minute, for her speak, as if he wanted something from her, but her hands were clenched into fists, and she was shrinking away, and it wasn't enough, because suddenly his shoulders deflated and his tone was low, broken. "No. I guess it's not." Lowering his head, he turned back, away from her, and dug into his pockets.

Fred was silent, suddenly nervous that she had done something wrong. "Charles -"

"Here," he interrupted, digging into his pockets and pulling out a set of keys. "Take the truck back the hotel. I'll find my own way back."

"You want me to leave you -"

"Just GO, Fred."

He was making her leave. Her eyes were once again drawn to the keys, twinkling and tinkering with each other, and she felt suddenly inhibited. Something had happened here, something unexpected, and her mind replayed the conversation and suddenly her heart shrank within her.

Her eyes watered and her fingers tangled together uncertainly, stepping forward hesitantly. "Gunn..."

"Fred, please." His voice was hoarse as he turned, eyes flashing and blazing and HURT as he pressed the keys into her palm, and took a huge step back, away from her, almost as if he couldn't look at her anymore. "I can't have you here, right now."

He was pushing her away, because she had hurt him. She had hurt him, and it ached inside of her, to have that realization come the way it did, with the metal in her hands, and the sucking in of her chest, the sudden blurring of the tears. From around the corner, Justine walked in, her eyes green and moist. She had been crying. Charles gave her one last glance, and in that look was heartbreak, and cold unfamiliarity.

He was shutting her out of this, and Fred understood, as her body trembled and her eyes filled with unshed tears. She wasn't a part of this. She wouldn't understand. And it no longer mattered, her being here. Hoping to hold herself together, at least until she got to the car, Fred took a deep breath, and walked away.

--

--

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

--

The Present - Kate Lockley's Apartment

Cordelia's headache finally forced her to take a short nap on Kate's bed. Kate was in the bathroom, taking a hell of a long time. And here she was, sitting cross legged on a chair, next to what had to be the weirdest girl she had ever met, and just coming from the pen, that had to say something. Faith was quiet as she studied Fred. The long brown hair, tumbling in waves. The skinny frame that she was almost sure she could break in two. Defined features, chiseled cheeks, luminous dark eyes.

This girl had survived a hell dimension for five years. Huh.

"You knew Justine, right?"

Even her tone was frail. Faith cocked an eyebrow, shifting to get a more comfortable position on the couch as she shrugged at Fred. "So?"

The young physicist was the type of girl Faith never trusted. Young, sweet... innocent. They seemed untouchable, and she always wanted to torment those types, for their patronizing way of looking down at people like her. Thinking they were better and shit... and it turned out they weren't so different after all. Both had been screwed over by a man, with a red-headed chick. Sorta.

"I just... do you think she could?"

"Could what?"

"Change."

"Oh." Faith sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. "Shit, Fred. I don't know why you're asking me. Yeah, sure I knew her. For all of five visits, and for four of them, all I wanted to do was rip through that damned glass and kill her, for the stuff she was saying to do to Angel's kid."

"Oh. So that's a no?"

"That's a `I think you should ask your boyfriend'." Faith responded, eyes closed.

"He's not my boyfriend." The snap was unexpected, firm and sharp. Faith found herself pulled from her one second of restless silence by the small shift of weight, signifying Fred pushing off the sofa, retreating to the darker corner of the living room. Damn. This chick really dug sitting on the floors. Denial is a bitter demon, Faith thought, marveling the way Fred seemed so locked in her own stubborn truths.

"So the `fucking'-"

"We weren't f- doing that." Fred was insistent. "Doesn't even matter what we did, `cause it's not like he cared."

"Not like he cared," Faith repeated dully, eyes narrowing against the physicist. "Okay, so... question. You're like, super smart, right? Some sort of genius?"

Fred blinked, and rubbed at her arms uncomfortably. "I wouldn't say that -"

"So, how is it that you're so damned stupid about stuff? Did your parents ever talk to you about sex?"

Fred's mouth fell wide open. The look Faith got was blank, and it finally forced her to take pity on the innocent crazy taco chick. Finally settling down on her haunches, pulling bangs away from her face, hooking them over her ear, Faith stared at her frankly. "Okay, Fred. I'm gonna say something here. And it's the truth."

Fred gave her a curious look. "Okay..."

"You don't exactly look the type to really handle the whole `fuck buddy' business very well."

"Fu- what?" Fred blushed, shifting away from the intimidating Slayer.

Faith rolled her eyes, and clamped her hand on her shoulder, holding her still. "Fuck. Buddy," she enunciated. "A Fuck Buddy. A pair of friends who spend their off hours screwing each other until Tuesday -"

"'Kay Faith, I got it," Fred said hastily, rising to her knees as the heat spread on her face, shifting her glance away from the Slayer.

Faith watched her with a dark gaze. "Why are you so afraid to think you might actually really like this guy?" she asked frankly. "Fred, he never said he didn't love you... but you gotta admit, where this guy's coming from... not that hard to see..."

"For you, maybe," Fred blurted suddenly, and immediately slapped her hand against mouth, inwardly cursing at her rambling words, and the look of anger that slid across Faith's face.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Faith asked, tone low, dangerous even.

"Fred didn't mean that," Cordelia said, coming in and rescuing Fred from the flashing dark eyes, when Faith turned to study her. The Seer ran a hand through her disheveled hair, sighing. "You'd think you weirdoes could keep it quiet when a girl's trying to sleep, but ... whatever. So, yeah. Fred didn't meant it. Well, she did, but, only because she's being defensive and angry. You can understand that, can't you, Faith?" she asked pointedly.

Faith flicked her middle finger at Cordelia, turning away and sitting on the floor like a sulking cat.

Well... this was pretty. Placing her hands on her hips, Cordelia's tired body rebelled against what she would have to do. She knew that eventually, she was going to have to sit there and work through issues. But at this point, staring at the two brunettes who were doing anything but looking at each other, Cordelia felt absolutely no patience for this whole little stupid game.

"Where's Kate?" she asked, and received two glum shrugs in return. "Geez," she commented. "You two make Oscar the Grouch look chipper."

"Bite me, Cordelia," Fred commented.

"Fuck you," was Faith's snarkier comment.

Cordelia rolled her eyes, about to retort, when she caught the phone line sneaking its way suspiciously into the bathroom. Pursing her lips, she carefully placed her hand on the knob, and jerked the door open. Kate fell out in a heap, her phone tumbling out of her hand.

"Hey, Kate," she said cheerily, crossing her arms as her eyes narrowed. Fred and Faith both stood, looking down at the sprawled out blonde quizzically. "Whatcha doing?"

Kate pushed herself to her feet, flashing the three brunettes what she hoped, was a winning smile. "Flossing?"

"Who the fuck did you call?" Faith asked shrewdly, panic making her tone more dangerous and less controlled.

"Oh, God. You didn't call Gunn, did you? Because, if you did then he's going to think that-"

"Woah, wait!" Cordelia struggled to hold both girls back, pushing them away and thanking the Higher Powers that they at least attempted to listen to her, no matter how subconsciously. "I'm sure Kate has a very good reason to be hiding in the bathroom with her phone." An eyebrow rose as a possibility came to her. "Faith, I'd check for that vibrator now."

"What? NO!" Kate looked close to disgust as she shook the phone at them. "It's that Host guy! Lorne! Look, I'll -" She put the phone to her ear. "Lorne! Lorne! Hello?!" There was nothing but a dial tone. Slamming the phone back into its cradle with a muffled curse, she dreaded looking up to catch the expressions on their faces. Waiting until the last possible minute, she took a breath, and glanced, immediately wincing and looking away. "I swear it was him."

"Right..." Faith gave her a big Cheshire cat grin, flaunting back to the sofa, Kate's embarrassment enough to melt away her anger. Fred only sighed in relief, also moving back to the couch.

Kate locked eyes with the still standing Cordelia. "I swear!" Cordelia smirked, giving her that icy glare that she had always hated.

Leaning down, Cordelia helped her up, whispering in her ear, "Saved YOUR ass."

Kate closed her eyes and wished for blondes.

Anything would have been easier to handle than these three idiots.

--

Saturday Afternoon - The Beverly Hills Country Club

It was utterly, tremendously, ludicrously, and `end of all evil' sad that she was actually bored. Cordelia kept the same bright smile on her face as she clapped, giggled and nudged with the best of the screeching, hormonal harpies, as one of them continued to explain why Pylex Tupperware was the best for all your household needs. Her eyes were slightly glazed over from the neon plastics, and her fingers had long since crushed the little mints to powder.

Her headache was quickly bordering on monstrous, and it had been a while, but Cordelia knew to have to keep repeating inwardly that you were having a good time, was probably not a good thing. Her eyes closed for a scant second, and suddenly her entire body jerked, making her gasp as she looked up and found the other woman at her table staring at her strangely.

Cheeks burning red with apologetic embarrassment, Cordelia offered a wry grin. "Chairs... slippery." Thankfully, they returned to their Tupperware `ooh'ing and `aww'ing, and Cordelia was left alone to rub at her eyes as carefully as she could, looking longingly toward the bartender for another margarita that might ease the pain from this horrific pre-bachelorette party.

Could we just GET the stripper here, already?

"All right, ladies! Now we're going to play a game!"

Cordelia fought the inward groan, keeping the smile on her face nice and wide as they pushed the chairs to the outskirts of the room. The dull throbbing flared up again, and she stumbled a bit, gasping.

"Cordelia?" Victoria appeared at her side, a worried frown on her friend's face as she steadied her with a hand to her elbow. "You okay, hon? You seem kinda outta it."

"Migraine," Cordelia lied fluidly, straightening and squeezing back reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Is there a bathroom..."

"Oh, sure! Just out into the lobby and to your right." Victoria smiled brightly. "Hurry up and come back okay? We're going to do that egg game."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, and fought the urge to respond with, `What are you, an absolute nimrod?'

Instead, she smiled politely. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

Yes, Mr. Giles. I have learned the art of tact. Even if I still think it sucks.

Cordelia found the bathroom quickly enough, thanks to a few rapid stumblings and a more than helpful resort worker who would have probably followed her in, if she had asked. Closing the door behind her, she finally allowed herself a minute to sink against the doorway, taking a breath of relief.

"Geez...." Her hand rose shakily to her forehead, attempting to cool the splitting headache. These visions... Oh, god... even the aftermath was getting worse. Moving toward the sink, she scrambled for a hand hold, steadying herself before straightening up. Sifting through her purse, finding the pills that made these days slightly bearable, Cordelia took a breath. Placing one on her tongue, she swallowed down, a soft sight lilting from her lips as the strong medicine absorbed its way into her system.

Hazel eyes blinked back from the scratched mirror, and she ignored what the glazed gaze was telling her. Instead, Cordelia redeposited the pills into her purse, straightened her shoulders, and turned back toward the `wild' party of the Tupperware fanatics.

When she entered the room, her hair was perfect, her make up was... passable, and her stance was confident, but she nearly stumbled with shock when she caught a figure in white khakis and a polo shirt, smiling and talking in the middle of the room, surrounded by the Tupperware groupies.

"Angel?!" she gasped, frozen into stillness.

At the mention of his name, Angel turned, waved gallantly at her, and excused himself, moving around the girls, looking downright ... chipper as he came to her.

"Hey."

Her mouth was open for five full seconds, before anything meaningful came out. "How... what... why? What ARE YOU WEARING?!"

"Oh." He looked down at his clothes, and shuffled a little uncomfortably, pulling at the shirt. "The guys at the front wouldn't let me in. So I found this."

"You're wearing khakis." Cordelia was still having trouble getting past the fact, staring dumbly at the lovely white creased pants. "Angel, you're scaring me."

Angel shot her an intense look, opened his mouth to speak, when Victoria appeared, sliding her arm into his elbow. "Cordelia! I can't believe you kept him away from us for this long! Angel is just... charming."

"Charming?" Cordelia responded, shock numbing into irritation as she realized Angel was once again reverting into `stalking' mode. "Him?"

"Yes, charming! And handsome!" Vicki grinned, squeezing Angel's arm. Cordelia ignored the sappy, and completely superficial, grin Angel flashed back.

Hazel eyes flashed with anger, as she crossed her arms, orbs locked with his with a definite `if looks could kill' glare. "He's just full of surprises."

And again, the damned vampire seemed to play along, flashing his big old stupid `Kool-Aid' grin and shrugging his broad shoulders. Big Dork. "Well, I just came off the golf course and wanted to stop in and see my girl, is all."

"Your girl?" Another groupie, Penelope, Cordelia thought was her name, damned near shoved Cordelia out of the way in an effort to get to Angel. "So you're like, together?"

"Like two peas and a pod, that's me and Cordy." He shot her a look, that stupid grin wide and idiotic and WHAT WAS HE DOING?! "Isn't that right, sweetie? Couldn't find a more normal couple if you tried."

"Normal," she repeated.

"Normal," he said again, a tinge of ice in his voice as he stared at her for a beat longer than necessary, before smiling again for the benefit of his growing audience. "Me and Cordy, we do the golf thing, country clubs... just a day in the park. With the sunlight. Real L.A. aficionados!"

At the second sigh of the bitch next to her, Cordelia lost control. "Angel, HONEY," she bit through gritted teeth. "Can I talk to you ALONE?!" Grabbing his arm, she didn't give him a chance to respond, as she pulled him away from the girls, ignoring his little wave back to them. Her head was still pounding, her heart was going ten miles a minute, and this was SO not what she needed.

"Okay," she said finally, hissing underneath her breath, dragging him into a secluded corner of the room. "Drop the yuppie act, ass wipe. And tell me what the hell is going on."

"I'm here to bring you home."

The words were so final, tinged with firm, no-nonsense simplicity she hadn't heard since the old days when he was still `the boss'. Despite the quivering in her voice that came so easily, she squared her shoulders, lifted one eyebrow in a trademark icy glare that had worked so well in the past.

"Oh?" she asked, the annotation behind the tone signifying danger.

The eyebrow only arched higher when the broody face came back, angry and furious, remnants of the vampire within coming forth as Angel replied in an equally dangerous tone, "Yes, home, Cordelia. You don't belong here, and you know it. I've had enough of this, I'm taking you home."

"Oh, really?" she almost purred, tossing her short hair behind her shoulder and sending him a scathing gaze. "Sure, Angel. Why don't you just swing me over your shoulder, or better yet! Take your little caveman club and beat me over the head with it! You know, don't want me kicking and screaming! You might dirty your nice new polo shirt!"

"Don't tempt me," he responded tersely. His hand reached for her elbow, but she pulled back. "Cordelia," he warned. "We're going to talk about this- no," he amended. "We're not going to talk, I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen, but not here."

"I like it here," she responded, taking another step backward, daring him to follow her. "Look, Angel! Sunlight!" She gave another sweep of the room. "Actors, and lunches. This is normal! This is where I belong. I'm only helping you."

He stood stock still, hands closed into furious fists as he glared at her, not moving from his dark corner. "Cordelia, don't do this. Don't make me ruin this for you."

She paused, the threat suddenly valid as she looked at the calm, collected, murderous look in his eyes. It was at times like these, that she realized just how dangerous Angel really was. He was a killer, he had killed for her, and he looked capable of anything now.

What the hell was he trying to prove?

"I'm through with the games, Cordy," he continued, when she said nothing. "I'm through with trying to `fix' things, because we can't. We can't go back, and we can't go forward, but you're not going to solve this by ignoring me."

"I like your plan, Angel." Her words were spoken with startling clarity, every word a lie, anger filling her with such deep emotion, she no longer cared that she never lied to him about anything but the visions. He was right. He was right. The visions were killing her, and she didn't want to die. She didn't want to see his face when he realized he was fighting for borrowed property. She didn't belong anywhere, but she sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that.

"Get it through your head, Angel. This is what I want. I want NORMAL. That's what I am, right? Mall girl? Shop girl?"

"You're Vision Girl," he responded tersely. "You're MY vision girl."

"I'm no one's, Angel. I belong to no one. I decide who the hell I want to be with, and for how long, and your time is OVER."

She didn't expect him to take no for an answer, she knew him too well for that. But she was still completely surprised when he strode forward, grabbed her so forcefully by the elbow she winced, and pushed her forward into the crowd.

"You want normal?" he purred, pulling her tightly against him with a sing song, dangerous lilt that reminded her slightly of Angelus. "I'll give you normal."

Her body was pressed back against his rock hard one, and she felt her breath go slightly unsteady when his hands slipped possessively around her waist, keeping her butt firmly against his groin, and she felt the vibration of his windpipe when he turned to Vicki, and spoke in that stupid yuppie voice. It took everything she had to keep from crying, as

she realized exactly what Angel was going to do. He was going to prove she didn't belong here, anymore. He was going to become a part of the world she hated. And if only for a little while, she knew she would hate him for it.

She always hated him when he was right.

--

Saturday Afternoon - The Hyperion Hotel

When Wesley awoke, he found his cramped position on the desk had afforded him a rather sore back, neck, and shoulders. Groaning, he reached for his glasses, slipping them on, blinking at the empty room, attempting to regain his senses.

The hotel was eerily quiet, and it seemed odd to him, to find the hotel as quiet as it was now. Six days ago, it had been full of life. There had been peace in the air, even in his own heart, things hadn't been perfect, not by a long shot.

But he had smiled.

His eye throbbed, and he touched it gingerly, suddenly remembering the last night in vivid detail. Faith.

His heart pounded in his chest painfully, and he shoved himself to his feet, eyes on the stairwell.

Angel and her...

Had she done it to spite him? Had Angel allowed it?

He swallowed down a sudden welt of irrational anger, marveled at the way the his breath became pants, the way his mind was suddenly picturing Angel's heavy body over Faith, rubbing against her, Faith's moans in Angel's ears as she scratched down his back-

Bloody hell. A woman who tortured him, who tied him to a chair, sat for hours, skimming blades and shards of grass across his face, eyes lighting up in pleasure as he grunted in pain. Blood seeping through his clothes, and hours in the shower, unable to get clean... never able to get clean.

Shuddering, he headed to the office door, picking up his now rumpled tuxedo jacket and slipping it on, the hotel suddenly dropping to a sudden chill. He should have known. The repression had worked wonders, twisting his soul, but he remembered now, the reasons he had come to believe he hated her, the reasons the nightmares still sometime came.

In the lobby, he wondered if they were still there now, asleep in each other's arms, wondered if Angel would wake, remember Cordelia, would feel guilt.

Would Faith care at all?

The sound of dull pounding distracted him, and he turned toward the sound with no hesitation, moving to the basement stairs, unsure who he would find.

The door creaked open, and walking down, finally, the person came into view.

He froze, the floor board creaking as he witnessed his Slayer, dressed in skin tight spandex, executing a perfect side kick into Angel's punching bag. The noise gave him away, her head jerked to the door, and then he was stuck, as her gaze locked with his. There was two terrible seconds, before she nodded stiffly, smiled grimly, and turned away, punching hard.

"Get out, Wesley."

It was a clipped tone, without emotion, and it disturbed him, making it hard for him to breathe as he slowly turned back up the stairs. There no caring in that tone, and it was so easy to believe this was who she was: cold, unfeeling, calculating. Did she have any idea how much she hurt him? Did she even give a damn? The anger was building, the hurt and the jealousy which he desperately didn't want to admit to, was bottling up inside of him, and it nearly made him explode.

"I saw you," he said suddenly.

She paused again, sweat forming a soft sheen over her lithe, powerful body, staring up at him with dark, luminous orbs, gleaming with indifference. "What?"

"I saw you in bed with Angel."

He turned, catching her expression, not sure what he was expecting to find. Guilt, at the very least, was too much to hope for, because she only stared blankly for a second, hands on her hips, breathing hard from her exercises, before the startling realization made her widen her eyes, take a step back. There was a long moment, a beat, and suddenly she turned away, shrugging uncaringly.

"So?"

He swallowed, hands gripping the wooden railing until he was sure splinters were digging into his palm.

"Why did you do it, Faith?" he asked. "You took a risk, you took a bloody stupid risk, and for what? Revenge?"

"You're giving yourself a lot of fucking credit, you know that?" she asked flatly, turning away from him and twisting suddenly, jerking a leg into the bag and sending the heavy thing flying back, nearly tearing it off it's hanging swivel. "Get the hell out," she said again.

"That's how it is, Faith? Eye for an eye? I hurt you, so you hurt me? With bloody Angel? And Cordelia-"

"Don't you DARE bring fucking Cordelia into this." She whirled, eyes flashing as she stomped to the stairs, eyes suddenly wild with fear. "You tell her, I'll kill you, Wesley. I swear to God I'll-"

"Kill me?" he responded flatly, crossing his arms. "Will you, Faith? Need I remind you nearly did once already?"

She swallowed down, hard, staring at him, only a foot away, looking down at her with that fucking patronizing look, and she never wanted so badly to smack the bastard.

Would he tell Cordelia? Fuck -

"Fine," she finally said evenly, eyes locked with his, flashing angrily. "Nothing happened with Angel, all right? Nothing. What happened with him was innocent and between friends. I don't fuck my friends, Wesley."

"No, apparently the only person you enjoy screwing is me," he snapped, and she winced, nearly stumbling down the stairs.

That hurt, to see the pain in her face. It jarred his world, as his ideas and beliefs about the colder murderess shifted again, remembering a scared girl who had sobbed in his arms. Agony, torture for what she had done, was there, raw and open.

"I didn't, Faith -"

"No, you're right," she said flatly. "I don't fuck my friends, Wesley. And you're obviously not in that camp, GET OUT!" Her voice shot into a scream, and he jumped from it, as she blinked at him behind unshed tears, throwing her towel at him with perfect aim. "GET OUT, Wesley!"

The door creaked open, and Wesley and Faith both stared, to see Fred looking at them both, wide-eyed.

"What... what's going on?" she asked timidly. She paused, fingers tangling nervously, until she caught Wesley's face, his clothes. "Wesley? What happened?"

Faith ignored her, eyes still locked on Wesley as she stepped back, grabbing her water bottle. "Get out," she said again, this time softer, and turned her back on them both.

Wesley stood hesitantly for another minute. He didn't want to leave. He couldn't leave her like this...

"Let me try and fix that." Fred grabbed his hand, pulling him up the stairs, and numbly, Wesley followed, craning his neck in hopes Faith would look back, he could find some indication as to what he could do, how he could-

But she never looked back, and he didn't see her trembling fingers, or the way she collapsed into sobs as soon as the door closed.

--

Saturday Evening - The Beverly Hills Country Club

The glass windows of the Country Club, with the setting sun in it's horizon, made Cordelia well aware of the risk Angel was taking in his quest to prove to her the stupidity of what she wanted, what she needed. With a trembling heart and a choked up throat, Cordelia remained, with her gaze fixed on the setting sunset, counting down with fingers tapping nervously on her skin, as she waited for the sun to go down. As soon as it was down, she could leave, into the night, and he would follow, and he would leave her crumpled dreams and hopes in his wake.

Oh, get over yourself, Cor, Cordelia through morosely, re-crossing her legs and shifting on the slippery seat, the fabric of her dress cool against her naked thigh. Crumpled dreams, and shattered hopes. How melodramatic could you get? Those weren't her dreams, those were held onto fantasies about a life she had given up a long time ago, in favor of now. In favor of waking up with Connor in her arms, and Angel by her side. In favor of a vampire, and agonizing visions, and impending death.

Her eyes closed, reopened a second later as she smiled grimly, acknowledging that at this point, she was voluntarily a wallflower, and Angel, who only two years before had stood out like a sore thumb at her party, now smiled and charmed, looking absolutely ridiculous in his white khakis and polo shirt, and twisting her heart with every word. It was funny, how to the passing eye, Angel looked so incredibly human. His hair, dark brown, rose in tufts, his eyes shone with human warmth, and his posture, relaxed and comfortable, was easily deceiving.

She saw her vampire, in the clues he gave her. The way the eyes narrowed, the nostrils flared every once in a while, testing the air for her scent, making sure she was watching, making sure she was being aptly punished for her decision to ignore him. Dammit, she GOT it. She GOT it. She couldn't be away from him, she couldn't be with him, and they couldn't be together, but what the hell did it matter if she was dying, or if her next CAT scan that he didn't know about was next week?

He wanted her with him, because she made him happy, and she made him sad. She slept in his arms, and he breathed her in when he thought she wasn't looking, trying to catch the scent of her shampoo, because he loved her. And she hated him for it. She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't asked for this life, and she had never expected anything so deep and meaningful and painful, that even just LOOKING at him would choke her up and make her ache.He made her ache, now. Her best friend, and her fantasy and this wasn't supposed to happen with ANGEL.

She had wanted to make him laugh. That was all she wanted.

Hazel eyes drifted back toward the windows, and she saw the sun had set, bringing a gratifying sigh to her lips. Immediately, she stood, grabbed her purse and her shawl and walked out of the room as quickly as she could, the anger building with every step.

By the time she reached the car she knew would be parked next to the shaded, entrance of the club, near a sewer, she was seething. Her eyes caught the black clothes strewn haphazardly in the back seat, the leather coat, and she ignored them, settling against the car.

She waited with barely restrained anger, until she saw him step out into the darkness, and then she pushed off the car, waited until he opened the door, and slipped inside. Her arms were crossed, her eyes were glittering, and she was visibly shaking, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Not yet.

--

The Present - The Hyperion Hotel

"Man." Charles Gunn let out a long breathe, head hanging for a second, before he looked up, meeting Angel's questioning look with a glare. "You can be a bastard, Angel."

"I was making a point," Angel said crisply, shifting Connor in his hands, being careful not to raise his voice. "And I'd do it again."

"Lovely." Wesley sank down onto the stool with a hiss, taking a shaky hand to touch his tender nose. "Bully for you, Angel. Breaking Cordelia's spirit, in order to give her a point."

"And not even the right kind of point, sugar lips," Lorne said. The Host was angry, it was visible in his tight stance, the way his lips were pursed, the strong hands knit together. "You still don't get it, do you? Crushing Cordelia's dream, making it seem ridiculous. That wasn't her point, Angel. It never was."

Angel. Not Angelcakes or Sugarlips or even Big, Bad Vamp Daddy. The word made the vampire listen, dark eyes intense in his stare.

"All of you..." Lorne paused, unsure how to proceed. "No one knows how to date a beautiful woman. No one knows how to keep their heart from breaking, or how to shelter them. But it appears you DO know how to crush their hearts. Break it down, bit by bit, until they cry and weep - and these are strong woman, folks. It proves one thing."

"That we're asses?" Gunn suggested.

Lorne paused, "Two things," he amended. "These women love you." With that, he stood, slapping his hands down on the counter. "Think about it."

With that, he turned, his words burning an impression into the group of men as they stood.

Angel looked up, surprised as the Host began to walk up the stairs. "Where are you going?"

"I'm done. I'm sleepy, I'll get the real story from the girls, later. You guys are just driving me crazy."

--

Saturday Evening - The Hyperion Lobby

Fred had hardly expected to enter a warzone. At this point, with her head already pounding, and her chest constricting every time she thought of Gunn, and what he was doing, she didn't want, or need, anymore conflict. She had expected to find Wesley, hoped to sit down, talk to him, explain her situation, hope he understood, and find someway to fix it. She hadn't thought that he would be lost, too.

They were all so lost.

She stared at the various first aid supplies, swallowing down hard as she picked various bottles, and then turned back hesitantly to the former watcher, now seated on a chair in his office, head in his hands.

He looked sad.

Her body was numb, but her brain continued to work, sorting through possibilities, and various scenarios that would have ended with that Slayer looking ready to cry, and Wesley so...torn. She hadn't seen him this guilty, this close to tears since... Billy.

Even as her mind flashed with Gunn's words, she sank into the chair opposite him, breathing in slightly and offering him an unsure smile, tilting him his chin up lovingly and placing a soft gauze on his eye.

"Didja get into a fight?" she asked softly.

He stared at her for a while, the glasses gone, making his eyes peculiarly blue. "Something like that," he said, and then fell silent.

Fred was comfortable with that. For some reason, discussing Gunn and Justine, just didn't seem appropriate anymore, because Wesley looked far worse than she did. His palm reached over, picked up the hem of her skirt gently. "Is that blood?" he asked suddenly.

She looked down, caught the droplets that were splattered against it, and gave a shaky smile. "Yes. I had... an accident. But I'm okay... physically." Another smile, and she looked away, grabbing the peroxide.

"Fred?" She turned to find him staring at her curiously, and if she didn't know better, she would have thought he appeared all kinds of drunk.

"Hmm?"

"I need to ask you something."

She waited expectantly, offering a haphazard shrug. "Okay."

"If someone you... cared about... a friend... if they did something to you, hurt you, would you... consider it valid, to go to someone else?"

She blinked. "Huh?"

Wesley was still, dragging his eyes from the open office door, resisting the urge to go back to where he knew Faith was still in her basement, punching away. Turning back, he saw Fred's soft brown eyes, and felt a sad smile drift onto his face. "I just... Faith became a friend, and I hurt her."

"Didn't she torture you?" Fred stared at him blankly, but it didn't seem to matter, as he gathered her small palms in his, stroked them distractingly. He just needed to get the words out.

"I just... I hurt her, Fred..." he said softly, looking into his friend's eyes imploringly. "But does that give her a right to... go to someone else?"

"Someone else?" Fred was uncharacteristically quiet, watching him with dark, searching eyes. "What do you mean? What happened..." At his dark face, her eyes opened wide, and she took a full step back, putting down the icepack. "Wesley did you two... you had... sex?" The last word was whispered.

"I... well not... yes." He sounded so ashamed, at little Fred's stunned face, he was forced to continue, because she stood, immobile, and her reaction was impossible to read. "I just... she was... Fred, what can I do? There's rage... and -"

She was still sorting out the facts in her mind, and finally came back with one fact. "You're wearing the same clothes that you were wearing yesterday. The tuxedo... because you went out... Gunn `n Angel said you were out with Virginia-" She closed her mouth, gulped, suddenly horrified. "Your red-head ex-girlfriend."

Wesley sighed, putting his head into his hands, a testament to his weary state. "Yes. Bloody hell, she wasn't supposed to find-"

"You just... used her for sex, called her a friend, and used her for sex, and then you... you went and slept with another redhead instead? She found her with another redhead and you didn't care, you let her go? Didn't even follow her to see if she was alright? If maybe she was crying, maybe if she wanted you to follow, no, you were there with the stupid REDHEAD?!"

Wesley blinked, stunned at Fred's rant. "I... uh... Fre-"

He didn't have time to respond, before a small fist crashed into his nose, sending him toppling over the couch, making him land with an `oomph' on the floor.

--

Saturday Evening - Angel's car

The night was still, dark. For Los Angeles, it was strange, to have a Saturday night this still. She probably would have pondered the reasons, different social events that were taking place, and why there was no traffic on the 101 headed Southbound.

Instead, her body was shaking with complete, irrational anger.

HOW DARE HE?! HOW. DARE. HE!?

She was literally taking deep, gasping breaths, in an effort to gain control. Her hands had closed into trembling fists, and she couldn't speak, for fear that certain razor sharp words would come out of her mouth that she wouldn't be able to take back.

That thought only served to infuriate her more, as she crossed her arms almost violently, whipping her head to his and opening her mouth to begin her rant.

"Shut up."

The words made her pause in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Before you say another word, before you get on your incredible high horse about tonight, you're going to hear a few things, you hear me?" His voice was incredibly cool, and she knew him well enough to know, that that signified he was beyond furious with her.

HE was furious? What?!

"You're already lost." He began to rap at the steering wheel furiously, eyes dark and on the road as he continued to drive, voice dripping with distain and furious anger. "You've gone away already, and you need to come home."

"Come home?" she repeated, completely flabbergasted poetic stupid ramblings.

"Home," he answered again flatly. "I want you home, where you belong. You want a normal life, well tough. It's not going to happen now. You know that." Her mouth fell open in exasperated surprise, as she glared at him, too stunned to say a word. Angel, apparently, didn't seem to have a problem with that, as he continued his low, dangerous, flat out statements, never bothering to look at her as he continued to drive. "You don't belong in that world, do you hear me? You don't. You belong in mine. You're in my world. With the demons and the visions - you love the light Cordelia, but you dwell in darkness. Beside me. Because you belong there."

The words were so matter-of-fact they stung. A painful lump began to develop in the back of her throat, and once again she tried to speak, but found herself hampered yet again, this time by that lump.

"I-"

"I'm not letting you. I can't let you go. It's not chivalrous and it doesn't make me a damned hero, but you know what? I don't care." She reached over to turn up the volume on the radio, in an effort to do SOMETHING, but he snatched it away, snapping angrily, "No. You're going to LISTEN. For ONCE you're going to listen to me."

The anger was slowly seeping in, flooding her deadening heart, and the headache was ringing inside her head, and all she could see was Angel, glaring at her with anger and resolve. And he was telling her all this NOW?

"You belong with me. Those visions are your clue, Cordelia. You can try to deny this all you want, but there's a reason you have them. And this denial, and anger isn't going to change things."

The rant was over with a rush of breath, and then there was silence. In the seconds that ticked by, it occurred to Cordelia that he was waiting for her to speak, to say something in regards to his words, his ultimatum. It didn't matter if what he said was true, what mattered, what truly bit into her very soul, was his lack of joy for it. The sorrow and anger weren't the joy she had prided herself for bringing into his life. There was no laughter or joy in this car. There was bitter, angry resignation. There was simple grief, acceptance over something they could not change.

And it wasn't happy.

She expected tears, but there weren't any. Her eyes were dry, her gaze stony as the car slowed to a stop. The Hyperion stood before them, and more than anything she wanted to be anywhere else. But her arms remained crossed, her voice was flat, when she finally turned to gaze into his face, and with an icy tone that would have made Queen C of Sunnydale proud, she said simply, "I don't want it."

Her hand fumbled with the door, and she stepped out, fully expecting to leave him there. But there he was with his damn reflexes again, and his body stood in front of her, in the chilly night air, eyes dark with anger. "You don't want what? Cordelia?"

She swallowed around the painful lump, but her voice remained surprisingly even as she responded, "I don't want you." A soft, half hearted shrug. "That counts for something, doesn't it?"

Moving around him, she knew he would give a fight, and she just wanted this over with. She wanted so badly to crawl into her apartment with her ghost and her pills and drown herself in her visions and nightmares. Because honestly, the agony would be almost better than the searing of her own soul at this very second.

"Cordelia."

It was sad, broken, and it made her pause, against her better judgment, look back to find him staring at her, lost and hurt, and broken.

"Have I already lost you?" he asked quietly, eyes dark and somber as they drank into her own orbs, searching hungrily. There was such fear in his tone, and it went straight through her, forcing her to gasp out and close her eyes in frustration. "Or did I never have you in the first place, Cordelia?" he demanded, more angry. His hand closed around her wrist, and she flinched away, eyes opening to catch his dark, sad expression.

"Angel, no..." she swallowed hard, stepping back, eyes suddenly on the Hyperion. "Don't talk about things that we -"

"What? Cordy? Stuff we can't have? WHY NOT!?"

"Because you're killing me, you know that?" Her voice broke into an uneven rasp, shaking her head and turning away in an effort to control her tears. "I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to die completely, because of you." Her eyes were bright with tears, grateful that for once, he shut up, as she continued her confession, torn out of her bleeding heart. "And it doesn't matter, because every time I look at you, every time I see you, every time I touch you, you're already there. In me, and I can see it, and I can feel it, and I'm already dead, Angel." She shook her head emphatically, voice hiccupping now. "I'm already dead."

"Cordelia-"

But she was already moving, almost tripping up the stairs in her heels, moving toward the door. Angel was stuck to the cement walkway for only a second, before he jerked away and began to run after her.

--

Saturday Evening - The Hyperion

She had taken the bastard by the hand and led him up. And now, they were probably sitting, and he was probably milking all her maternal instincts, and letting her touch him, and pet him and -

FUCK.

Faith pounded another fist into the bag, feeling the jolt of power from her body, but it wasn't enough. With a gulp, she stared at the bag, panting hard, pretending it was Wesley, and that God-damned Fred, and kicked it hard, sending it careening back, swinging smoothly out of the way before it came back and plowed her. This was too much. What the hell was she thinking, coming here? Hell, JAIL was less complicated. Sitting in a little cell, sure a month felt like a year, but at least she knew her place, she knew where she stood.

At least there, she wasn't mentally crazed, a sobbing wreck, and obsessed with a stupid ENGLISH BASTARD. The loud bang and crash knocked Faith out of her jealous brooding. Wesley's voice drifted in a piercing yell, and without another thought, the Slayer raced up the stairs, turning into the lobby, and sliding into the office.

Wesley was lying helplessly on the floor, holding hands to his nose, a stunned expression on his features, and Fred sure as hell didn't look motherly, standing over him with that clenched fist.

"What the hell happened?" Faith demanded, instinct betraying her as she knelt down in front of Wesley, gently cupping his cheek to study the blood streaming from his nose. Fred looked absolutely horrified, as she blinked back tears and stepped back, shrinking slightly when Faith turned angry brown eyes on her. "What the fuck did you hit him for?" she demanded, getting up and turning toward Fred.

"He pissed me off," Fred said, and then swallowed, straightening up before shrinking back down. "Sorry?"

Charles Gunn burst into the office, took in the state of the room in one broad sweep, and suddenly turned on Faith. "Why the hell did you hit Wesley!?"

"Hey!" Faith pushed back, nearly sending Gunn sprawling against the wall. "I didn't TOUCH the fuck, okay? That little chick did."

Gunn paused, heaving slightly, whipping his head back to Fred. "You hit him?" Fred stepped back, blushing profusely. But Gunn didn't see it, instead moving forward, seriously invading Wesley's personal space, nearly knocking him back down as he tried to get up. "What'd you do to her, man?"

"What did *I* do?!" Wesley repeated, holding a hand to his bloody noise, voice coming out tinny. "She hit me!"

"You had to have done something, man. Fred just wouldn't up and hit someone!"

"Well, maybe I would?!" Fred blurted out, suddenly pushing Gunn back, once again sending him to the wall.

Faith's eyes widened, keeping quiet when Fred continued to push at the large guy. "I would have hit you, GUNN! You big, unstable.... Bastard!" Wesley gasped, and Gunn's eyes went wide.

"Fred-"

"Yes, that's right! I said `bastard', and I'll say it, again. Because you're just... mean. How DARE you think I couldn't understand! How DARE you think I was just jealous, and blind, when all I cared about was YOU?!" Her finger jabbed into his chest, and Gunn gulped, looking at Faith, who shrugged, settling down on the desk.

While Fred continued her tirade, Faith looked back at Wesley, found him also staring at the scene, and was free to view the blood running freely down his nose. Godammit, it hurt her to see him like that. Shuddering, she swallowed, tried desperately to remember every single reason he deserved a broken nose, and when his head swiveled and their gazes locked, she promptly forgot all of them. His eyes were dark blue now, intense, as he raised himself slowly to his knees, never tearing his gaze away.

"Faith," he began, in a slow whisper.

"BASTARD!" Faith blinked, torn away by Fred, who was still jabbing at Gunn's chest. "Inconsiderate, and you made me CRY! Friends don't make each other cry-"

By this time, Charles Gunn was completely speechless, trying in vain to placate the girl. He had come back after an hour of walking the streets, trying to sort things through his mind, think things through, make sense out of his complicated world. He was no less sure of anything, when he stepped into the Hyperion Lobby, but all that was on his mind, was making things right with Fred. Apparently, that part of the plan was going to require some serious strategy.

"Fred-"

"And friends don't sleep in the same bed, and do stuff-"

"You WHAT?!" Faith blurted, flicking glances between the two of them, and was subsequently completely ignored. Fred had the interruption to study Gunn's shirt, and found it hanging from his chest in rags.

"What happened to your shirt? She didn't tear it off, did she?" she managed to ask, right before she ran out of breath.

"No, she - vamps nest, on the way back. Are you - Fred, why can't we talk about this somewhere else?" he suggested, when Wesley and Faith both continued to stare blankly.

"I don't WANT to talk to you right now, Gunn, and if you keep looking at me with that puppy dog look, I swear, this fist is going to -"

"Okay." Faith immediately strode forward, grabbing the girl's arm, pulling her to the door. "Let's go."

"Faith-"

"You need a drink, you need to calm down, and as on board as I am with you beating the shit out of both of them, I really don't want to be here, and neither should you."

Fred's mouth was agape, but at the moment, going with the Slayer she barely knew seemed a far sight better than staying here with the Red-Head Loving Bastards. She could really get used to that word.

"Cordy!" A brunette flew into the lobby, the two woman very nearly collided with Cordelia, who blinked as she paused. "CORDY!" Angel said again, coming behind her, grabbing her by the elbow.

"Don't TOUCH me!" Cordelia hissed, shouldering her purse and looking back to the girls. "Where are you going?"

Faith glanced at the aggravated Angel, and the seriously distressed Cordelia.

So... Angel was in the shit, too, huh?

Glancing flippantly at Fred, she nodded toward the door. "We're going to get drunk. Wanna come?"

Cordelia blinked, looked down the lobby, and found a tattered Gunn, and a bleeding Wesley. Hazel eyes were thoughtful, but her tone was even as she shrugged. "Sure."

"Cordelia, you're not leaving-"

"Oh, STUFF it, Angel!" Cordelia said, as Faith and Fred began to walk toward the door. Digging in her purse, she pulled out something metal, slapping it into his hand. "Here. You'll get more out of THAT right now, than you will out of me."

With that, she swiveled, turning on her heel, and followed the two women out the door, leaving three brooding, bewildered, and bothered men in their wake.

--

--

Chapter Fifteen - AND ON TO THE PRESENT

--

Kate Lockley's Apartment

It took Kate three minutes to get to her bathroom, which was roughly only ten feet away from her bed, because of three narrow misses, a consequence of her momentarily forgetting in her sleep induced haze about her three unexpected houseguests.

The first was Cordelia, who she had nearly run into when she shifted on the bed, startling her awake. The brunette was so fast asleep she didn't hear the muffled shriek of surprise from Kate. The next near catastrophe happened when Kate had gathered her senses enough to swing her legs over the side of the bed, only to panic when she remembered Faith was asleep on the floor. Kate managed to defy gravity long enough to keep her legs from slamming the Slayer in the abdomen, a maneuver, she was sure, could very well have saved her life. Unfortunately, in her momentum, she nearly plowed into Fred, sleeping nearby, and it was only when she reached the bathroom did Kate truly feel safe from any more brunettes hiding in her apartment.

Closing the door behind her, Kate closed her eyes, allowed herself one sigh of exhaustion, and then stumbled to the sink. The reflection in the mirror revealed a person who had obviously spent a restless night. Dark shadows tainted the pale skin, and her blonde hair, unwashed, was stringy. Piercing blue eyes studied themselves in the mirror, and Kate, with all the strength of observation she carried that came from being a detective, still had absolutely no idea what to do with this aftermath. In her bedroom were three girls, incredibly young, incredibly old, lost and searching for an anchor.

With trembling hands, she wet her face, trying to wake herself up, attempting to find a way to come to a decision on what to do. With a rush of breath, she came to one decision: there was nothing she could do. There was something to be said for all of this, however, Kate thought, as she opened the door and studied the three sleeping girls in her bedroom. For a glimpse, they had experienced love, and all the joy, all the heartbreak that came with it. For one agonizing second, Kate envied them all.

Straightening up, her face purposely closed, she slammed the bathroom door shut. Immediately, Fred shrieked, sitting up, hair tumbling over her shoulder as she scrambled for her glasses, slipping them on and blinking Kate's form into focus.

"Oh. Hi there."

Kate smiled grimly. "Hi."

"Oh... fuck..." Faith's hand was squeezed into a fist, and she pounded once at the floor, eyes closed. "I hate hangovers," she whispered, holding a hand to her head as she rolled over, opening one eye warily, and closing it just as quickly.

Awareness came to Cordelia more slowly. Her hazel eyes opened after a minute, and her arms pushed up her body, until she was in a sitting position, the Pylean Princess blinking at them all, pulling her knees into her chest, as if trying to decide what everyone was doing here. Cordelia's head was still aching, and out of discipline, she forced her hands to stay where they were, despite the overwhelming urge to reach for her hand bag with her pills. She closed her eyes, and with a harried sigh, she slipped off the bed, turning to her friends.

"Cinderella time?" Faith asked.

"I think we've plagued Kate more than she deserves," Cordelia agreed, slipping into her heels.

Fred immediately stood, folding the various blankets she used into neat squares. "This was kinda fun! Like a sleepover!" When everyone stared at her blankly, she flushed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Well, I mean, except for everyone getting their heart broken and everything. And the hangovers. And the whole sleeping on the - I'll just go put these back."

Cordelia bit back a smile as Fred walked out of the room, meeting Faith's wondering glance with an amused one. "You'll get used to her."

"Fungus type?"

"Kinda."

"Huh?" Kate asked, stepping into the room, grabbing the other side of the blanket and helping Cordelia spread it over the bed.

"She grows on you, like a fungus," Cordelia explained quickly.

Kate blinked. "Huh."

--

The sun was large and luminous, and it glared into Kate's windshield, making her squint when she stopped at the stoplight. Only a block away. There had been no discussion, no resolution as she drove the three women home. Absolutely nothing but silence, and Kate had no problem with that. She was, by today's standards, not a chatty woman, and for now, the tension was biting even through her. Her fingers were tight on the wheel, and in her rearview mirror, she checked Faith and Fred's expressions as they sat in the back seat, both staring out the window, silently contemplating.

Cordelia, again, never failed to surprise her. The brunette Seer was quiet, alright, she seemed visibly tired, but instead of inwardly reflecting on what Kate knew must have been on the forefront on her mind, her focus instead was on the two women in the back. Once, Cordelia caught Kate staring, and she had dismissed it without a word, instead looking again to the back, where the two girls were seated. Kate hitched in another nervous breath, and pulled over, yanking her hand up to set her gear into park.

The silence remained. For a minute, no one moved. Cordelia stared up at the hotel. It was impossible to read her mind, to discern what was going behind those unnaturally clear eyes.

Suddenly, the Seer reached for the door and opened it. "Let's go." Kate nodded, watching as the girls filed out, Cordelia pausing to turn. "Kate." Kate watched curiously. Cordelia's face gave into a soft, tired, but sincere smile. "Thanks. We owe you one."

The ex-detective found herself giving a truly sincere smile back. "Yeah. You do."

"I'll call you."

"You better."

There was a warmth in the exchange, in Kate's eyes, that hadn't been there before, and she truly felt grateful as she stepped back, allowing Kate to pull away from the curve, back to her apartment. Sure, Kate had done nothing but listen, but that was more than what a lot of people would have done. Kate had been a friend.

Turning back, Cordelia turned tired legs toward the Hyperion, walking with the two up the stairs, dread seeping into her heart as she realized the magnitude of what happened last night. Again, there was a nag inside of her that told her to fix things, but Cordelia was tired. When Fred and Faith walked in the room, and they all discovered three men sitting in various positions, all anyone could do was stare.

It was a long beat, a long moment, until Fred tore her eyes away from a beseeching Gunn and moved to her room, up the stairs two seconds at a time. Faith's eyes locked with Wesley's seconds before her gaze hardened, and she too, moved toward the stairs, dismissing him with a hostile stare. Cordelia's heartbeat slowed as she watched Gunn's shoulders drop, moving around her and away from the hotel. Wesley waited a beat later, and then, her shoulder brushed his black covered arm, and he was gone too.

All that was left was her and Angel, holding a sleeping Connor. Her heart pounded, and suddenly the aching was too much, and she understood why the others fled in the wake of their issues. She wasn't strong enough to handle this now. And neither was he. Angel was ashamed, or scared, or angry, because he walked up the stairs, and she watched all the way, until his door closed, and she was left alone in the Lobby.

Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. Not.

Cordelia grimaced, the pain in her chest almost physical as her heart ached. How could they help the hopeless, when they couldn't even help themselves?

--

It had been an eerily quiet day. Faith was anxious, though about what, she had no idea. Her mind was muddled with fears and insecurities, and there was the tight coil inside of her that reminded her she still had to get rid of Holtz, figure out a way to get out of this whole little deal he thought he had. There were so many complications, and her own mind betrayed her as she wished herself evil again. Things were so much easier when all she did was ignore, destroy. Even if it emptied her, at least she didn't feel like this.

The phone call from Cordelia filled her with apprehension, but it had been something at least, and she found herself rushing to get to Cordelia's, for the sake of doing anything at all. It gave her more comfort than she wanted to admit, when Cordelia opened the door to her. Faith fought the smile that drifted on her lips and failed, as she stepped inside, for the moment ignoring the grim look on the Seer's face in favor of glancing at the couch. That damned couch.

She closed her eyes as her insides twisted, and fighting against it, she turned quickly to Cordelia, suddenly wanting to be out of there as quickly as possible. "What'd you want?" she asked quickly. Cordelia gave a small, grim grin, as she settled down on a rug on the floor, making a point of not sitting on the couch. Faith noticed.

"I'll wash the damned thing, okay?"

"Faith, just sit down."

The Slayer still wasn't used to taking orders, but she obeyed, coming forward and sitting cross-legged across from `C. Cordelia's piercing hazel eyes held something behind them, Faith wasn't sure what. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to know that she was hiding. Cordelia was silent for only a minute, before she took a breath, and began rapidly, "This has gone on long enough."

Faith's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

"This... problem, that we're all having. We can't let it interfere with the mission, so I'm asking you, to go talk to Wes."

The fucking `W' word. Faith immediately stood. "Fuck, no."

"Faith-"

"I'm not-"

"Look... Wesley cares about you, okay? As far as I know, nothing happened with Virginia."

"I don't want to listen to this -"

"Well tough." The volume in Cordelia's voice rose from firm to angry, as she clamped a hand on Faith's wrist and pulled her back down, keeping her gaze locked with hers. "Face it, Faith. You're part of the family now, and families forgive each other. No matter what happens. So find a way to fix it."

Damn, but Queen C knew how to give orders. Faith swallowed hard, but Cordelia's eyes remained firm as she stood, pausing to wipe fringy bangs from her forehead, tucking them behind her ear.

"Where're you going?" Faith asked, as Cordelia headed for the bedroom.

"I'm going to call Fred," she answered. "And tell her exactly what I told you."

It was an order, that was what it was, but it wasn't one Faith was sure she could follow. She licked her lips, crossing her arms, and wishing she could hate Wesley, she sank down on the couch, running palms over the fabric. Shit. She wanted to hate him, she really did.

The door bell rang, and Faith lifted her head from her palms, walking toward the door when Cordelia didn't emerge from the bedroom. When she opened the door, she promptly tried to shut it again, but an unseen force stopped her panicked gesture, and she never hated Dennis more.

Virginia Bryce looked equally surprised to see her standing there, mouth dropping open, and stepping back to stare at the numbers before a small squeak emerged from her throat.

"I was looking for Cordelia," she managed.

Faith had two choices. Kill her, or let her in. It actually took her a full minute to convince herself Cordelia wouldn't like redhead blood on her carpet, before she managed to get her feet moving to allow the taller girl in.

"She's on the phone," she said stiffly, moving away from the door, not caring if Virginia followed her into the room or not.

"Thanks," the rich debutante replied, just as awkwardly. Faith settled back down on the couch, and found her gaze back on the red head. Cordelia wouldn't mind if she just pull off one little ar-

"So is um... that the couch?"

Faith blinked. "Huh?"

"The one you guys had sex on."

Oh, this girl was dead. "WHAT?!" Faith hissed, launching to her feet.

The move visibly frightened Virginia, who took a startled step back, blurting out quickly, "I uh... he was drunk at the time, and it just came out! Sorry! I- it... so you -" Faith continued to advance. "Oh, God, look, didn't he at least manage to talk to you about... us?"

"Us?" Faith repeated, eyes narrowed into a glare.

"Well, okay, the fact that there IS no us? I just - geez, you're scary stop! Cordelia will be pissed if you beat me up, I promise! She likes me! Kinda..." That at least managed to make Faith stop. A relieved sigh flowed from Virginia, shoulders slumping. "I'm actually kinda glad you're here. I just wanted to... apologize for what happened the night before... It really wasn't what you thought it was... and I thought Wes was going to tell you but... He didn't do anything wrong..."

Faith was stunned into silence, shock pervading her features at the startling turn of events. Blinking once, she realized exactly what Virginia was doing. "So what?" Faith said after a minute, a sneer coming over her features. "You wanted to be all big and shit? Coming over and trying to defend him cause you feel sorry for me?"

"No, I hate you," Virginia burst, and then had the decency to look embarrassed, and she shrugged slightly. "Sorry. I just... you look scary, and you're everything I thought he wouldn't want, and... I love him and he loves you..."

"Come again?" Faith said suddenly, head whipping up, her face a startled expression.

"Look. Personally, I think you're all wrong for him, but he's a good man. And... he's sweet... and you made him happy. Even with the torture." Virginia gave a crooked smile, the admission almost painful. "I just... he's gone through so much, and he's got such a big heart, and..." Faith swallowed, stepping back slightly when Virginia straightened, green eyes boring into hers. "He loves you. That's it. That's the bottom line. And you would be an idiot, to throw that away." There was absolute silence as Virginia wiped the tears from her eyes, stepping backwards, as if suddenly realizing she no longer wanted to be there.

"Tell Cordy I stopped by," she said flippantly, leaving as quickly as she came, Dennis closing the door behind her.

Faith was unnerved enough to sink to the ground, eyes wide in shock, heart bursting with wonder.

--

The Hyperion Hotel

Angel sat with his child in his arms, the bottle held dutifully to his son's mouth as his mind lost itself in silent contemplation.

He was alone, the hotel was silent, and no one had emerged. It was worse than before, and he knew it couldn't go on, that some how, someway, he was responsible for how this would end. But it didn't make getting up any easier, not when he had no idea what to do, what to day... how to even begin...

Closing his eyes, he allowed one sigh of anger, before his form froze, and helpless with his nodding off child, afraid to move, he stared hungrily at the door, hoping against hope the scent was not deceiving him, that his grief and love hadn't started to play tricks on his addled mind. But it was indeed Cordelia, who slipped inside the door, watching him with a serious, sad expression. His body jolted, but he didn't move, unsure, and maybe even a little scared. He had never seen that expression on her before, and even if at that moment, he would have done anything to make things right... there was no way to tell where he stood, now.

"We can't keep doing this," Cordelia said finally, eyes locked on Angel's dark orbs as she stood stiffly in the center of the room, arms crossed, closing herself off from him. "We can't keep making everything about us. This isn't about us. We have a family now, Angel. YOU have a family now. We can't go off into tantrums, or refusing to speak to each other, or pushing each other away just because of a thing called love."

He was quiet, silent with his child in his arms, a dark, haunting presence that had seeped into her own soul. Forcing her tone to remain flat, despite the heartbreak that filled her now, Cordelia continued, hand rising to massage at her aching neck. "I'm tired, Angel. I know we haven't exactly discussed what's going on between the two of us, but it's something. And, we have to get through it, or get over it, or do something to fix it, WITHOUT breaking this up, breaking the family up. They need us, Angel," Cordelia finally said, her tone a strangled whisper, tears coming to her eyes. "I didn't want it, and neither did you, but it happened. We've got four people in there that depend on us, on what we stand for. So find a way to fix it. I'm tired. It's up to you, and we fix it. We ignore it, or we do something, but we can't leave. It's not about us, anymore."

She stepped forward, toward her frozen vampire, a dark, grim smile on her perfect lips as she knelt in front of the rocking chair, burning a warm embrace on his knees. Her eyes were on his child as she smoothed a delicate finger over his forehead. "And it's not just about him. It's about everyone. And I'm not letting them down again." Her eyes met his, moist with her emotion. "Help me find a way to fix it."

She stood, ignoring his beseeching eyes as she walked to the door, posture straight and firm, moving the door, opening it, and closing it behind her. Angel was left behind with his child, in the dark, alone. It was the last place he wanted to be. His eyes continued to burn his gaze into the door, eyes on the place he had last seen her.

There was no solution to love, he had learned that the hard way. And with his heart breaking, and his mind whirling, Angel continued to sit, immobile, not breathing. To even think about breathing would have been painful. Because there was no solution.

--

Gunn's Apartment

Fred tangled her fingers and walked away from the door from the tenth time. She had never been to Gunn's apartment, and it reminded her of a fox hole. Just small and cramped, and dark, and come to think of it, kinda cozy. Like the sewers. Without the smell.

Forcing herself to stop, exercising at least SOME discipline over herself as she turned back and stared at the door. She had promised. She had promised Cordelia she would come.

Biting her lip, she continued to stare at the door nervously, noting that it didn't seem to be getting any larger. Her fingers clamped together, and she winced, realizing she had unintentionally cut off her circulation. Now, her hands lowered to her waist, palms open wide as she realized she was no less angry with Gunn as she was before. But the anger was different now, and maybe it was because of that that she was standing here, outside his door.

Was this what friendship was? Being furious because he hadn't called, hadn't tried to see her? Forced her to come walking all the way over here, overcome with longing to see him? This wasn't right. Something about this just wasn't right. She shouldn't be waiting for him, she shouldn't be thinking of wrongs and rights, and what ifs -

But she was. She was standing right there, thinking of the hurt expression in his eyes, and the anger in hers, and what if she hadn't said what she said -

The doorknob shook, and she froze in shock, momentarily stilled as it opened, and when Charles stepped out, she took a step back.

He closed the door behind him, and turned, and when he saw her he shrieked, jumping back a full step, landing against the wall in the hallway.

"FRED?!" he whispered furiously, once he had a second look.

"Uh..." Heart suddenly beating in furious pants, Fred's steps faltered, right alongside her courage. Would Gunn believe her if she went with her first impulse and said it was NOT Fred, but some parallel universe look alike, who just HAPPENED to show up at his doorstep? Probably not.

"Fred?" This time, the word was accompanied with a hopeful tinge, as Charles pushed away from the wall, overcoming his shock to step forward, hands reaching forward to touch her, pausing at the last minute, and coming away. "What are you... doing... here?"

Fred seemed to be struck mute.

Charles quickly considered his options, and never one to question his luck, he fumbled for his keys, and opened his apartment door. "I..." his voice shook slightly with hesitation. "I was gonna come and see you, but since you're here..." He pushed the door open, very aware of his hammering heart as he moved away from the open door, giving her time to make up her mind.

Fred looked like a deer stuck in headlights, the way her eyes darted to the door, and then to him, and then back to the hallway. Gunn was fully prepared to run after her if she bolted, because... well... bolting was something that Fred had a tendency to do.

It was a terrible moment, until she took a breath and stepped forward into his room. Exhaling with a sigh of relief, Charles followed her in, closing the door behind her.

Okay, Fred was in the apartment. Great. Now, what? Charles swallowed down, hard, past a lump of emotion that seemed almost painful in his throat.

"I uh... okay." He hopped in place, trying to get his momentum, his courage, in front of the girl who was staring at him like he had grown a second head. "Come on, Charles," he breathed. "You can do this. Fred-"

"I was waiting," she blurted, blowing her breath out in an unsteady rush. "For you to come to me, like you did before, you know... apologize and everything..." He looked uncomfortably, away from her, down at his hands. "But then I remembered," she began again, voice slightly shaky, "What you said before, about me ... you know... about you... never kissing because you thought I wouldn't kiss you back and... I came here, instead."

"Fred, Justine -"

"No... please don't mention her now," Fred said, closing her eyes against the pain that came up inside of her at the thought of the woman. "I don't like her."

"I know, bu0t -"

"And I know, that you want to help her, and I respect that...well, I respect that, NOW." She frowned, shaking off the irrational anger at the mention of her. "I didn't want to come here, because I knew I would get nervous, and every time I do, I just start to ramble and... you know... I think I'm doing that already, aren't I?"

He gave a slight smile, and that made her hope just a little bit, pray that what she would say next would come out right, without losing him, without losing everything they had gone through in the last.... Was it really only six days?

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I know it's like I say that a lot and all but..." He gave a small shrug, looking like a nervous school boy, her big old bear, with his hands in his lip, unsure of what to say or do next. Moving past her, he sank down on his little bed, gazing up at her with adoring eyes.

It only served to make her frown, and that wasn't what Charles was going for at all. Her hands were pressing against each other, but she wasn't looking at the door. That was a good thing. Apprehensively, he watched with growing concern as she sat down beside him, mouth moving silently as she tried to phrase her words.

"I don't want to be friendly, anymore, Charles," she finally said plaintively, voice breaking slightly as she saw his flushed face, the hurt look sliding over his strong features. "I just... I don't like the way it just tears at me..." her fingers knit into uncomfortable knots in her lap. She looked at them, at the way the digits tangled in the uncomfortable silence. "I just... miss you..." she finished.

He was quiet, looking down at the floor. Suddenly, he turned to her, eyes bright, "Fred-"

"Charles..." she stopped him with a hand on his arm, a crooked smile on her face. "What would you say if ... you know... we...-"

"Fred, shut up." Gunn's eyes were shining brilliantly as he leaned forward, brushed his lips against hers, and it was gentle, so very gentle. She gasped slightly, leaning back in shock, but he only stared, and moved closer, slipping hot palms around her waist and pulling her closer, before tilting her head and plundering her lips again.

"No, Fred," he said again, his voice almost harsh in it's firmness. "We're not bein' all friendly." He swallowed, and suddenly his eyes were tender, sliding a finger over her lips, in his eyes a simmering passion that made her breathless. "We're being in love. You got it? We're being in love..." And his lips pressed against hers, body slanting over her own, a warmth that consumed her. Her eyes closed involuntarily and when her mouth opened to give a breathy sigh, he took the advantage, gently invading the moist heat. Her own brush of her tongue against his let a soft moan out from his throat that made her smile, and her hands, with absolutely no self control, slid over his shoulders, pulling him closer to her.

Her big old bear.

When he released her, she had no escape. He had her wrapped in his arms, his legs were tangled with hers, and on this bed, her body was betraying her with thoughts of nakedness and Gunn's mouth on... certain places and it was whirling with thoughts before she blurted, "We're in LOVE?!"

The outburst made him chuckle softly, and he nodded. His palm was distractedly tickling her ribs as he said, "I think so...that cool with you?"

And there he was, in that insecure smile. Fear and genuine hope, as he stared at her with glowing eyes. She managed a crooked smile, despite the crashing heartbeat and the way her legs kept rising up his thighs, bringing him in further. "I think that... yeah. I think that's just fine, Charles. I never liked the whole being friendly thing, anyway."

He grinned again, a little shaky at the corners of his mouth, most likely a remnant of the relief flooding through him, lowering his head and kissing her once more, slow and tender, until she was tired of slow, tired of tender, and nipped him, hard.

"OWW! FRED!"

She grinned, suddenly gratified that she COULD trust him enough to do this, be able to snake her palm down his abdomen, and cup the front of his jeans. His eyes widened, and then closed, a ragged groan torn from his throat as he shuddered against her, pushing forward. Her smile widened at his reaction, and with her free hand she caressed his cheek, letting him move against her, the entire situation sending tingles through her body, desire that was almost impossible to resist.

When the passion was sated some time later, she found herself without clothes, without modesty, but spread firmly against a tight, warm, muscled body, her head resting against his strong chest, rising and falling with his breaths. The chocolate skin underneath her was smooth. Her fingers ran over it gently, lips pressing against him distractedly as he continued to consider, speak gently, softly to her. Confessions of a friend now were being admitted, and she relished that, thankful she had his trust back, and so relieved she had HIM back.

"I don't know what to do, Fred. For the first time, in my LIFE. I have no idea what to do."

Fred was silent, keeping her cheek against his beating heart as she held him, pulling him closer into her. "I don't know, either," she whispered. "I used to know everything. Math problems, and riddles and puzzles... even in Pylea, where I was scared all the time, I knew how to break the collars and ... here... I don't know. I'm still lost, Gunn." His fingers slid up her spine, comforting in their presence, and she took his silence for support.

"You're not lost, Fred," he said finally. "Sometimes, I think you got it more together than any of us." Her eyes widened in surprise, and startled, she lifted her head to gaze upon her Charles. He gave her a small smile back, delicately tracing her cheek with his fingers. "You got a lot to learn about love, baby doll. But that don't make you lost, that just makes you human."

The grin with which he said those words made her smile, and she shrugged, chin resting on his chest as she remarked, "I happen to think you do, too, Charles."

He conceded with a grin. "So we figure it out together, then?"

She smiled. "I think so... and... I'll help you with Justine, if that's what you want..."

"Fred..." his smile had faded, his palms tightened around her shoulders in an act of concern. "Are you-"

"I trust you, and I support you, and I believe in you and if you believe in her..."

He gave her a ragged sigh, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. "That's a hell of a lot of pressure you're putting on me, girl."

"It is," she said, somberness in her tone as she resettled herself against him, finger tracing a circle around his left pectoral. "I... think you can handle it. And you won't be alone."

He was quiet for a long time, and she knew he was considering his options. She waited, a little anxiously, until the strong chest under her released a huge breath, and his arms slid around her, tracing a shuddering line up her spine.

"You're my hero, Fred."

Those four words were enough to make her smile, to lift her head up and grin at him, and when their lips met in an all consuming kiss, Fred knew that they wouldn't be going to sleep for a very long time.

She was okay with that, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back as Gunn pressed his lips against the spot between her breasts, holding him tightly against her. It was never easy, and love was all consuming, and terrifying... and all those bad things... But love was also everything. It was in Gunn's dark gaze, in his scared expression... in the hurt of his features when he thought she didn't trust him. And it was in his hands when they touched her, his smile when he kissed her. It was in his arms when they held her, and it was in her heart when she spoke to him.

She couldn't explain love with theory, with logic, because to be honest, this... what was going on with Gunn... had no logical explanation. She couldn't explain why it happened, and why it happened with him... What she could say, was that, quite simply, it did. And it wasn't easy, it would never be easy, but there was this, this love, this passion - And that made everything.

It was everything, she decided, when his lips trailed back up her chin, and she moved her mouth to meet against him, pressing against him and kissing him harder. And then, Fred simply ceased to think, and began to feel.

--

Wesley's Apartment

When Faith put her mind to something, she damned well put her mind to it. Despite the fact that her knees were practically shaking, and her common sense was screaming into her ear that she was an absolute MORON for doing what she was doing, her palms moved into fists, and she pounded at the door.

She was damned scared. But her eyes were hard, and her resolve was clear, and when beautiful Blue Eyes opened the door, she didn't shake, and to her credit, didn't even punch him again. Her eyes took in his surprised features, the way his eye seemed to be healing nicely, the way the nose was just a little swollen, and she kept her features passive.

"Faith," he breathed, in that beautiful English voice of his. Get it out, Faith. Just get that shit out, before you punch him again or run away like the lame ass coward you are.

"The redheaded bitch came to see me," Faith said flatly, with no introduction whatsoever.

"Did she?" he responded, stunned into polite conversation. The Slayer nodded, pushing off the doorway and walking inside of his room, almost glaring at him from behind dark brown orbs.

"You've got a real way with woman, English," Faith said. "For that chick to be brave enough to come after me alone. Got a bad ass tongue, too," she added. "Almost bitch slapped her more than once."

"Ah... I see..." Wesley whispered, unable to tear his eyes away, mind whirling as to Faith's intentions.

"Said something's about me... about you... and it got me thinking." Faith was silent for a minute, and then moved forward, sitting down next to him on his bed. "All right," she said finally. "I'm going to listen to you. And then you're going to listen to me." She continued to not look at him, staring at something fabulously interesting on his wall. "And then we're going to try to do one of those conversation things... with the talking... and without hitting each other."

"Ah..." Wesley swallowed down hard, hands fidgeting on his bedspread. "I... see."

She was quiet for a minute, staring at the wall silently, before finally turning to him, a look of impatience on her beautiful face. "Any time now," she prompted.

"Oh, me?" He blinked, and once again looked away, taking in a breath. "I..." His mind scrambled for words, an attempt to say something, anything to understand what it was that was happening between them. Wesley, with his books, and his mind, could think of nothing. Instead, his eyes went to the hands with the short painted fingernails, up the pale skin, to the tattoo etched onto her arm, past the smooth shoulders to the jawline, and finally, to her eyes. "I don't know what I can say, that would ... Faith..."

She looked confused for a second, and in all honestly, Faith's little show of bravado was quickly running out of steam. Words were never her strong suit either, and she had been depending on the English guy to get the ball rolling, hoping they could figure it out without the violence that had become a staple in their whirlwind courtship. She looked at the door, mind shifting again to try to view it as an escape -

The warm touch of skin against her palm startled her, jerking her eyes back to lock with his. Once again, she was distracted by the beautiful blue in his eyes, and once again, she resisted the urge to pull the glasses off, to attempt to drown herself in their depths.

"I've really made a muck of everything, haven't I?" he said frankly, drawing her palm into his lap.

The gesture left her breathless, a short pant coming from her as her eyes locked on their entangled fingers, his smooth brown digits a contrast from her paler ones.

"Uh... yeah. You did," she admitted, a short chuckle coming from her when he gave a small smile. "Bastard. But I didn't exactly start things off on the right foot..."

She waited, unsure of what she wanted, but body tingling with anticipation for it. God, what was it drifting through her? Hope?

"Faith," he began heavily, eyes on their hands, glasses glinting. Her palm was carefully turned over, his index finger smoothing over the lines of her hand. "What this is... what happened... is something we undoubtedly should not pursue -" The instinctive urge to pull her hand away, a reaction that came immediately after the sinking of her stomach, was stilled when he closed his grip around her hand. "You promised you'd listen," he reminded her. She swallowed, achingly aware, that she was never great on keeping promises. "As I was saying," he said again, keeping her hands tight in his. "We are two rather conflicted people. We have pasts we'd like to forget, both of us tend to... demean our own importance. And we hurt each other. More than... we WOULD each other, Faith. Deeply. You lash out, I close myself off... -"

"You're also a moron," she reminded him.

He gave another distracted smile, conceding. "Perhaps. But I did have a point."

"Oh, good," she couldn't help but answer dryly.

"We're no good for each other, Faith," he said finally, eyes locked against hers, not allowing her to look away. "And yet, my hand is still in yours, and I can think of no place in this world, at this moment, that I would rather be, than wrapped in your embrace, in your arms, in your lips." His gaze was somber, his hand gentle as he slid his hand to her cheek, tilting his head to smile at her. "I'm offering you a broken vase, Faith, and if you choose not to take it, then I can certainly understand. I can't promise you forever, but I can promise you, that I love you. And I'll do anything in my power to keep you from hurting ever again."

She froze at the words, jerked back, and the flinch made Wesley's hand drop self consciously, as she breathed out, "You can't, Wes. You can't stop the hurt. No one can."

He was quiet, but she continued, raking digits through long brown hair. "Fuck Wes, life sucks. We know that. And the pain isn't ever going to stop. I learned that. No matter how much good we fight, no matter how ... white hat-ty we get, it's never gonna stop. But... that's okay. As long as I can believe in this." Her fingers found their way into his palm, and her voice broke slightly, edged out I need. "I believe in you, Wesley," she finally managed. "Fuck knows WHY, with the way YOU'VE been acting... but I do. And if I can believe in you, then maybe... I can believe in myself." The next three words choked on their way out, and she laughed in embarrassment, insides shuddering at her own vulnerability as she whispered, "I love you."

His expression was blank for only a second, black eye and bruised nose aside, there was still nothing more beautiful to Faith, than the moment he smiled. Her eyes closed of their own volition when he kissed her, tender nips at her lips, his body a welcome weight against her own as she sank back onto his bed. HIS bed. But when her hands slid to his shirt, pulling it up to smooth over the muscles of his back, he paused, pulling back.

"Not fast, Faith," he whispered thickly, breath fluttering against her lips. "For now, please just let me hold you. I've waited so long just to hold you."

And her bruised and battered lover touched her, pressing his lips against her closed eyelids, smoothing over the tears, as she gathered him to her, scars and all, and held him tightly, shuddering with emotion as his face buried into her neck. The embrace was desperate, the weight of the man on top of her different somehow, to every previous experience.

She knew she would wake up in the morning, and he would still hold her. She knew that the scars, small bumps over her searching fingers, would still be there, just as she knew the glint in her eyes would never fully be lost, the hate would always seep it's way into her soul.

There would be pain, and hatred, and rage. But something was different now, and it made her press her lips against the man who held her past, her present, and her future in his broken hands. There was love, now. And with that love, came hope.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in his scent, and finally let her mind drift off to a peaceful sleep.

--

The Hyperion Hotel -

Two days.

Cordelia never truly understood Fred's theory on time. The first time Fred had tried to explain it, Cordelia had cut her off, the second time, her eyes had glazed over and her brain promptly exploded. But she understood it now, how time moved depending on how you were aware of it.

Sitting here, in the nursery, things had been... awkward. People were still finding their grooves, attempting to move and understand what happened in the last six days. No one could change the past. Faith had still tortured Wesley, Gunn had still lost a sister to vampires. They weren't healed completely, no one really was. She wasn't. But something had changed. Fred and Faith, and Gunn and Wesley, had managed to patch things up, come to some sort of understanding. It didn't make things any easier, but it helped.

The future was so uncertain here. And still, everyone was waiting, and Cordelia knew why. She had promised herself she would trust him, and even now, her heart was hammering, knowing Angel could make the wrong decision. What WAS the wrong decision, when she herself had no idea what the right one was? Her weakness, had landed her here. In Connor's empty nursery, in Angel's bed room, away from the others, seated in the darkness, waiting.

She was prepared to wait for as long as it took, but she knew, it would be a wait that would take forever. There was simply no answer for a problem that couldn't even be addressed. Maybe it hadn't been fair to Angel, to make him decide, but he was the Champion. And she was so tired of fixing things only to have them break.

The door opened, and her hazel eyes blinked with surprise as the soft light of the lamp flooded the room, and a vampire with a human child stepped inside.

"I thought I would find you here," he said, uncertainly, keeping the door closed behind him by tapping against it with his foot. A second of waiting, and he glanced down at his child, and then back up at her. "I know how we can fix it," he announced.

For a moment, she was stunned, rising out of her chair, surprised when he stepped forward, placing the child in her arms.

"Okay," she said, as easily as she could, taking the baby and brushing a distracted kiss against his forehead. "I'm listening."

"We don't."

Now THAT she wasn't expecting. Cordelia's mouth fell open, surprise apparent on her features.

She managed one blink, before she responded with a stuttering, "Huh?"

"Just listen." Angel seemed almost ... chipper, as he came forward, eyes brown and intense, and his body language was so firm. Cordelia had rarely seen him so sure of himself. Rendered speechless - and that was QUITE a feat, thank you very much - Cordelia only watched blankly as he began to pace.

"I've given this some thought, and we can't fix this. I mean, I've tried, Cordelia. I've thought of leaving, or you leaving, and I can't let you leave, and *I* can't leave, and Connor can't leave, and... they know we can't leave-"

"Okay," she interrupted, clearly losing patience. "We're not leaving. We covered that, Monty Python."

"Right. So... no one's leaving. But there's clearly feelings here, which is... not good. But it's too much responsibility. It's too much, Cordy. There's too much law, and order in this world of chaos where a dead person can have a kid, vampires can be brought back from the dead, and miracles can happen." He paused, turning and coming to stand in front of her, eyes almost glowing with his observations. "And if all that can happen, if miracles can happen, then all we have is hope, right? And love... and the hardest thing we can do is believe in it." And the tone got dark and slow, her Angel's voice so labored now, "That you won't die, and I won't lose my soul - There's no resolution for this, but to go forward... and I know that we can't fix things. I know that Holtz is out there, and the vision thing and... in the end... Whatever does happen... at least, we'll have the happiness WITH the heartache."

She was openly panting now, eyes moistened with tears as she looked at him, so full of emotion, she had no idea what to say, what to think. He paused, and sank to his knees, prostate in front of her, reminiscent of a time that seemed so long ago, when she learned of the killer he released to save her.

And her mind was overcome.

"My body aches for you," he admitted. "Every minute, every hour, I want to feel your skin under my thumb tips, slide my palm under your thigh, I want to see how high that tan goes-"

Cordelia released a low, unsteady breath. "Angel..." she began imploringly.

But he wouldn't shut up, as his hands squeezed on her knees, sliding up and making her shudder. "It's your eyes, Cordelia. Your words. Everything I've done, everything I've done since the moment I've stepped in Los Angeles, you've had something to say about it. You've always been there. And there's a reason for that. There's got to be a reason -"

"Angel." It was labored, heavy, overcome with emotion.

"Listen to me," he said again, lips quirking up into an almost smirk, gentle and sweet, and it filled her eyes with tears, as he kept his gaze on hers, reaching up to cup her cheek. "I don't know what's ahead, Cordelia. I can't promise that I'll be the perfect man. I can't promise that things aren't only going to get worse from now on, but I do know that I'll be the one that's right here." He swallowed hard, testing his emotion, looking away, no longer able to view her face in his heartfelt admission. "I'm scared, Cordelia. I can't do this without you, but you make me strong. And I want to be the one to make you strong. I want to be the one to wipe away your tears. I want to be the one to feel your breath on my neck. I can't fix this..." When he dared look again, her eyes were bright with moisture, her lower lip trembled, and a lone tear drifted from her eyelid.

Suddenly wanting this to be sacred, needing it to be sacred, Angel's voice drifted to a soft whisper, as he gathered her smaller hands into his dead fingers, caressing the digits as if they were precious and gentle. Because they were.

"I can't take away the pain, Cordelia. I can't be your champion. I'm not your champion. I'm just a man... pire..." That made her smile, a crooked, barely there smile, but it was there. "I can't promise you a future, in my world, I don't even know if we have one..." He paused, overcome with emotion, as he gazed up at his Seer. "But I promise you, I swear to you this: I promise to love you. More than any man, has ever loved any woman. And all I want, is for you to let me. Let me love you. All I want to do is love you as much as I can, as best as I can, for as long as I can."

The words sank into the air, and he waited, his heart laid out in the open, for Cordelia to make any indication that she had heard.

Boy. He really did a hell of a lot of thinking here. After a minute, a sob emerged from her tired body, and her head cocked, as the tears slipped down her face. "Oh, Angel," she said in a soft whisper. "You dumb, beautiful man. That's everything."

He was stunned into silence, but he carefully pulled Connor from her, placing the child in his crib, before stepping into Cordelia's waiting embrace. His arms wrapped around her, as she pressed into him in a shuddering hug. Immediately, relief slipped over him, and he held her close, pressing kisses to her cheek and her shoulder, her hair, any place he could reach, closing his eyes, and pulling her tighter. Cordelia's warm body trembled, and he knew then, he had his answer. He was right, they couldn't fix it. There was nothing they could fix here... there was nothing, and it was everything.

Suddenly he had hope, as he held her close, breathed in her scent and thanked the Higher Powers for keeping her with him. He wouldn't lose her, because they would find a way. There was a reason she was here, in his arms, there had to be. There had to be hope, what else were they fighting for, when they were helpless themselves?

We help the hopeless...

The old motto drifted through his brain, and he smiled, pulling away to run a gentle palm down Cordelia's face, smiling before tilting her chin, pressing a long kiss into her lips, meeting her mouth with a gentle whisper, a promise.

"I love you."

That was it. That was all he had. And it was everything.

--

They had come out of this no better than when they went in. She still dreaded the next vision, she still knew he was thinking about Holtz. But now, as he rained kisses down her throat, soft lips that pressed and gently slipped along her column, she knew she had one more thing.

She had him.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, in a low, sultry tone that made her weak, sending a soft, tingling spiral through out her. With a breathless sigh, she obeyed, body on edge as she leaned back into the soft cotton of his sheets, head resting against his pillows, a position she had been in only a week before. But she had never seen his eyes shining, the way they were, never seen the way the smile curled at his lips, and her heart beat rapidly in response, with the realization that this was dangerous -

"Angel..."

"Trust me," he whispered, settling his weight on top of her, a welcome relief to her aching body, a cool body that her legs immediately parted to allow a better position. His lips brushed against hers once, twice, and she moaned in response, rocking her hips against him.

God, she wanted to trust him, as his palm wrapped around one breast, her breath caught in a ragged gasp, body arching against him, pressing into his hand. She heard his moan, as his face buried into her shoulder, felt the hardness against her, her body falling into an easy rhythm that was quickly overcoming her senses, pushing all other thoughts away.

It would be so easy to believe that there was just them, just two bodies, and two lives, fighting the good fight, with passion and love and hope...

"Oh, God," she whispered achingly, eyes closing as one palm slipped under her shirt, skimming the tip of one bauble, making her shudder. "Angel..."

He had to stop, she knew it, he knew it. Labored breathing hindered movements, it took Angel a second to try and control his body, his arms, his hands, as he slipped them out of her shirt, grinning at her weakly, pressing a distracted kiss to her closed mouth.

"We have to get out of here," she whispered, forehead tipping against his in an intimate embrace. "Figures you'd get all hormonal on me NOW, Broody."

"Right..." he began pulling away, swallowing hard. "We can't..."

Cordelia grinned, pushing at Angel's chest. "No! I mean, no, you're right we can't, but that's not what I- we have to do something first."

--

The Hyperion Corridor

"Guys!" Cordelia knocked on the door, hard.

Angel looked slightly uncomfortable as he slipped his hands in his pockets, edging away from it. "Cordy, maybe we shouldn't-"

"Oh, shut up. This needs to be done. Go find Wes and Faith."

"I ... uh... They're in Faith's bedroom."

"What?"

He gave a colorful, embarrassed, sheepish grin. "They're umm... you know..." Cordelia's eyes widened, and she shuddered away the vision of Wes and Faith... you know.

"TOO much information. And how the hell did you know?"

"I can... um... hear... them."

"Oh, gross." Cordelia shuddered, and pounded again. "Fred! Come on-" Losing patience, Cordelia pushed on the knob, slipped inside, screamed, and slipped out, slamming the door behind her, and leaning against it, face as red as a tomato.

"Good LORD! Is there anyone in this hotel NOT having sex?"

"We're not, Cordy." Angel's answer was pained.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Shut up." Angel shrugged. The door jerked open, and Cordelia was saved from falling through it, only by Angel's quick reflexes.

"Oh, hi! Cordy! I'm sorry about the - you know - Gunn and I were just... reading, you know, cause that's why the sheets are rumpled, and the..." Fred blushed profusely, holding the sheet up to cover herself. "You didn't... see anything, did you?"

Cordelia watched in blank shock, leaning against the vampire, who gave Fred a perplexed and disturbed look. "Meeting downstairs in a half hour," he said finally, nodding to Gunn, who was furiously pulling on a shirt in the background.

"Right, sure... half hour, got it!" Fred nodded quickly, and closed the door. Cordelia sighed, holding a hand to her head.

Angel was silent, holding her to him. "So... wanna go get Faith and Wesley?"

Cordelia opened one eye to glare at him. "Why don't we wait?"

He couldn't help but grin at her look. "Sure. We'll wait," he agreed, steering her by the shoulders away from Fred's bedroom. "I'm sure Connor needs to be sung to."

"You're not going to sing, are you?"

"Cordy, shut up."

--

The Hyperion Lobby - an hour later

"All right, so is everyone clear here?" Cordelia pointed again at the list on the dry erase board. Faith looked mildly bored, looking at her fingernails. Fred nodded enthusiastically. Wesley only stared at the board with a furrowed brow, and Charles Gunn smiled, amused. "Pay attention!" The Seer reiterated. "This is important."

"We got it, Queen C," Faith said dryly. "Cordelia will no longer screen her calls, always pick up, no matter WHAT the hell Angel does. Mister Broody there, will always make time for any of us -"

"But there will be no sleeping with Faith -" Wesley interrupted, flinching when Faith smacked him on the arm. "Oww."

"And I'll try to stop obsessing about... stuff." Angel mumbled. Cordelia smiled, pleased.

"Good. Not too much, though. I kinda like... the obsessing about me. Sometimes." Angel grinned, and Cordelia blushed, pushing on. "Fred will learn to become a tattle tale when it involves a life threatening situation. Wesley will stop going into brood fits and not TELLING us anything. Charles Gunn will STOP with his stupid little-"

"Hey!"

"You'll tell us when you need help, Gunn," Angel snapped darkly. "We're your family. That's what we do. And we'll be there this time. I promise."

Charles gave the vampire a look, and finally, a smile. "I got ya, dog."

"Faith, Fred and I, owe Kate a dinner, and a man of her own. She needs a life. Badly. You men, will assist Lorne in rebuilding Caritas, since that's the least you can do after bitching him out for a night. And EVERYONE will stop hitting Wesley. Except for Faith, who might have reason to in the near future if they keep insisting on dating. Lastly. There will be NO MORE SEX ON ANY COUCHES. ANY couches. This is what beds are for, and to be specific, NOT MY BED. Are we all clear?"

"All clear, Cordelia!" Faith said, rolling her eyes and giving a mock thumbs-up. "Can we go now, Teacher?"

Cordelia grinned, looking over her ragged peers. "The point is," she said, her tone serious now. "We're a family, guys. All of us. We're all we have. So, let's act like it, okay?"

The group stared, and one by one, everyone nodded.

Cordelia smiled, straightening and crossing her arms. "Good. One more bonding thing. Then we're free to live our little lives."

--

"All right! I've got the blue chips."

"You can't have all the blue chips, Faith," Wesley leaned over the counter, giving her a dark glance. "The point is that you have to have all of them. This isn't Monopoly."

"Oh, how would you know? You suck at making money."

"I'LL disperse the chips," Cordelia said, grabbing the small box from the Slayer. Angel moved around her, looking concerned.

"Are you sure we should be spending that much?"

Cordelia elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "You're such a tightwad. It's just fake money, Angel. Stingy Vampire Bastard."

"Don't want to get into any bad habits -"

"Angel, the Money Man. Next thing you know, Vamp's gonna start ranting about how cheap it was to play `back in the day'," Gunn commented, pulling Fred into his lap, features darkening as he ignored Angel's glare to pull the cigar out of his girlfriend's hand. "What's this?"

"Lorne gave it to me," she said, plucking it back. "Says I look good with it."

"Fred don't you stick that in your mouth," Gunn said sharply, hissing inwards when she began to squirm in his lap, trying to keep his roving hands away from the cigar.

"No! I'm not even lighting it!"

Faith rolled her eyes, turning away from the impromptu lap dance to linger over the cards. "This is some stupid bonding shit, Cordelia."

Cordelia gave her a cool glare, depositing the cards in her lap. "Here. Shuffle."

Faith took the cards, frowning at them, and turning them upside down. "Demon cards? Like, with demons on them?" Pulling them out, she studied each in turn. "Oh, God. This HAS to be yours," she said, dropping them into Wes's lap. "God, you're such a loser." Before he had a chance to react, she leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Good thing you're such a hack in the sheets."

"Yes, well..." Wesley blushed. Angel shuddered against the visual image.

Lorne stood in the hallway, admiring the scene from afar.

All in all, not a bad resolution. Minimal bloodshed, little to no interference, and a very `Friends'y quality to add to the whole shebang. He wondered if they would learn to cherish moments like these, with bickering and all, in the days to come.

Bloodshed, horror, loss... unbearable agony...

The future was so uncertain, the Powers knew it, he knew it. Lorne, aka the Host, was a very unsure man indeed, and even now, he wondered how they would come out of it, how HE would come out of it.

"Hey! Where the hell is Lorne?" Cordelia asked, shouting above the chaos.

"Don't worry about me, Sugar Cakes," Lorne spoke up, giving them a way, straightening his tie.

"Don't you look spiffy," Cordelia said, eyes roving appreciatively over his ensemble. "Very... colorful."

"He looks like a cartoon," Faith remarked flatly.

"Faith!" Fred had the grace to blush. "You look very nice, Lorne."

"Well thank you, Fred Girl." He grinned, saluting the six as he turned. "And a good night to all. I don't expect to be back early."

"Where are you going?"

He paused, turning back. "I have a date with a beautiful blonde, with wonderfully raspy voice, and a terribly conflicted soul." He moved to the door, pausing only to smile at them all. "And if I'm lucky, I may just get to tell you about how the greatest love affair of all time happened, six days from now."

With a flounce, and a wiggle of his hips, Lorne left the hotel, whistling a happy tune.

All was silent, until Faith broke the quiet reflection of Angel Investigations.

"Kate DOES know he's green, right?"

Cordelia looked seriously disturbed.

"Oh, God. What the hell WERE they doing in that bathroom?"

-

end

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