Lessons

by The Brat Queen
Summary: Angelus ponders life now that he's out of his cage. (Sequel to "The First Move")
Story Notes: Darkfic. Spoilers up to "Tomorrow"
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's, 20th Century Fox's and all that sort of thing. 'tis but a non-profit, amateur effort, and y'all would need to get in line to sue me anyway.

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Thick, wet splashes echoed down the tunnel. The smell of refuse rose up and clung to the inside of his nose. Somewhere, though they didn't know where yet, a client's wife was being held captive. It was likely she was being tortured.

Angelus wanted a cigarette.

It was stupid, he knew. Vampires didn't have addictions, beyond the pretty obvious drinking problem. Drugs had effects on them, yes, and in his mind he could remember both the bliss of an anti-depressant, and the day he'd gotten bored, turned one of Spike's old university buddies, and then fed him increasing doses of opium just to see what would happen.

Drugs couldn't addict vampires. They gave pleasure or pain, as was their wont, but any attempt to latch on to a vampire's internal chemistry and ultimately control it was thwarted by a body that had one lord and master and one only, and it came complete with cells, platelets and ideally screams.

So, Angelus told himself sternly, he was not having a nic fit. He just wanted a cigarette.

There'd been a grand total of none in the hotel, which he thought was a pretty amazing feature since, hello, hotel. Memories came to him of vending machines, and big ashtrays with black sand in them, and the 1950s for God's sake. How was it that there were no packs around? Okay, yeah, they'd be stale but - This was getting ridiculous.

He'd wanted to go out and swipe some, but Wesley, bastard that he was, had left him alone with Fred and Gunn for babysitters and the agreement, which Angelus really couldn't argue with, that anything that alerted anyone that they could start snapping two extra letters to Angel's name would be a bad idea. So he'd stayed in, with two sets of brown eyes watching him - one with silent, yet not uncaring regard, another not-so-quiet and filled with cow-like concern.

Going out by himself without knocking anyone unconscious had been out of the question. Asking for a pack along with two pints was also not going to fly. There were some things about his past that even he had to admit weren't too bright in 20/20 hindsight, and a predilection for leather and smokes under specific circumstances were two of them. Three if you counted not trying to break that habit when he'd been soul boy.

The forced confinement had lasted a couple of days. On day three they had a client.

"This tunnel goes on for fifty feet more then it forks," Fred told them. She clutched a mace in her hands as though it were a stuffed animal. A highly dangerous stuffed animal. "One branch goes north, the other north-northeast."

"I know," Angelus snapped because, really, he did. Then he regretted it because occasionally his memory didn't cough up the goods and sometimes it helped for Fred to chatter on and fill in the blanks for him.

Gunn's eyes swiveled to look at him. To a human he would have been nothing but a shadow. To Angelus he was a tall man who looked slightly annoyed. "You got a plan?"

Of course, there were other things that he'd done in his past that were useful. Such as never giving up his predilection for violence no matter what form he took. "Yeah. Kill things."

Gunn hefted his axe. His features shifted from annoyance to determination. An incline of his chin indicated his agreement. "We sure we ain't outnumbered?"

"Only one way to find out," Angelus said. In the dim light there was no way for the others to see his eyes. Keeping his face turned towards Gunn, he moved his gaze to Fred. He watched emotions flicker across her face in response to the conversation.

Gunn, unaware of this, continued talking to him as normal. "You ready for this, man? You've only been on your feet for - "

Angelus raised his sword, sliding it silently through the gloom until it clicked with the underside of Gunn's axeblade. He applied pressure, just enough to show he could disarm him.

Fred watched, her eyes mostly on Gunn, but said nothing.

Interesting, Angelus thought. Out loud he said: "Yeah. I'm ready." Then, knowing whoever spoke next would be the leader of this little venture, he continued. "Let's go."

They walked for fifty feet, then took the north-northeast side of the fork. Random splashes kept Gunn and Fred on edge, their weapons primed. Angelus kept his sword loose, and comfortable. He knew rats when he heard them.

"The entrance should be close," Fred whispered, her voice a small hiss above the quiet sound of their movement.

"I know," Angelus said, this time pitching his voice to sound friendly even though he was still irritated because, again, he did.

They kept walking. Pale blue light diffused through the darkness and came out to greet them. The sounds of splashing, as Angelus predicted, faded away. Even rats wouldn't hang around Moid demons.

"On three?" Gunn asked, his eyes locked on the final doorway in their path.

"I'm not much for counting," Angelus said honestly, and he kicked the door in.

Moids were quick, thin demons with four arms and hard, spiked tails. They traveled in groups, and as Angelus's eyes adjusted to the sudden influx of incandescent light he could see that this clutch was no exception. Specifically it was no exception by having a number of six.

"Show no mercy?" Gunn suggested, his axe already on a downswing to sever an attacking arm.

"Never do," Angelus replied. He pulled into a ready stance with an extra flourishing twist of his sword, and then brought it down to help a Moid's body disconnect from its head.

The Moids were prepared for them, though. The remaining five screeched something that sounded like a battle cry, although Angelus suspected it was really just some version of "Come on!" and attacked with fury. Claws, tails and metal clashed, creating a music of their own that no movie soundtrack could ever hope to duplicate.

Another demon went down, but the four that were left successfully herded their three. Angelus riposted with two, watching as Fred and Gunn were backed into separate corners.

"What should we do?" Fred called out.

"Think fast," Angelus suggested, meaning it in as helpful a manner as possible. Fred nodded, seeming to understand, although Angelus knew that she didn't. After all, there was no way for her to know that he meant to think fast now, when he ducked down, kicked out, brought his foot squarely into contact with a Moid's chest, and sent it flying into the air and crashing into the room's only lightbulb. After all, how could she predict such a thing?

"Oops," Angelus said, timing his comment perfectly as the room was plunged into darkness. "My bad."

"It's okay," Gunn called back in a touching attempt at reassurance. "We can handle it."

Oh, Angelus thought, Okay then. He turned on his heel and left.

=====

Hours later he sat on a park bench across from Wesley's apartment building, brought a brand-new Zippo lighter up to his mouth, ignited his fifth Marlboro of the night, and waited. He was rewarded with the roar of a motorcycle.

Wesley may have lost a lot of things in the past few months, but his Big Dog bike was apparently not one of them. A part of Angelus almost felt a moment of nostalgia for the time, three years ago, when Wesley had arrived in LA with a bike, a crossbow and a pair of ill-fitting leather pants. The pants didn't fit so bad these days.

Wesley parked the bike by the extension-of-his-manhood SUV that was in the spot Angelus knew belonged to him. Facts stirred themselves at the back of his brain like - it's a new SUV and two parking spots means two parking fees. It all came together to form the question Where's he getting the money from?

Wesley, oblivious to the scrutiny, undid a parcel from the bike's bitch seat, folded it under his arm, and walked into the building.

Angelus pitched his half-finished cigarette onto the ground and followed.

Vamp speed got him across the street and into the lobby before the security door could swing shut. He then hung back, keeping himself just out of range of that sixth sense that every human had that said Look behind you at just the right moment (or wrong one, depending on your point of view). Wesley stepped up to a row of mailboxes, extracted a tiny key from his pocket, and then sorted through the envelopes that waited for him.

Angelus watched. It was all... different. Small changes, but changes. Movement, for instance. Wes no longer moved like a man who apologized for being in his own body. Everything was deliberate, yet casually controlled. Angelus could relate.

"You reek of smoke," Wes said, after a few moments. He didn't even look up from a flyer offering to upgrade his internet connection. "Was this a deliberate attempt on your part to alert me to your presence or are you really that obtuse?"

This was also new. The don't-give-a-crap and happy-to-insult thing that Wes liked doing. It, like the movements, was casual. "Had to have something to savor dinner with," Angelus said, ignoring the question.

"I see," Wesley said. He dropped the flyer into a trashbin and slipped the rest of his mail under his arm with his package. "And dinner was...?"

Angelus licked his lips at the memory. "Three very tasty young men. Found 'em by a bar just off Pico."

"Three in one location?" Wesley mused. "Interesting. You know, I somehow feel a need to explain to you what I mean when I use a phrase like 'low profile'."

"There were no witnesses," Angelus said.

Wes's brows arched up in a question. "No witnesses to the deaths of three young men?"

Angelus grinned. "No - no witness to the death of two young men."

The fact that Wesley found humor in that was, Angelus decided, also new. "Glad you're keeping yourself busy then."

Wesley walked across the red lobby tiles in the direction of his apartment. Angelus fell into step beside him. "We had a client today."

"Oh?" Wes gave him a look of studied politeness. "And how did that go?"

Angelus shrugged it off and fished for a new cigarette. "I dunno. I left. Fight got boring." Although his eyes were down, as though he could see the pack of cigarettes through his black, calf-length, Hugo Boss (and thank you soul boy for being such a label queen) jacket, he kept everything else trained on Wesley.

And Wesley gave just a second of hesitation at the thought of Fred and Gunn being hurt. "I suppose that's one way of keeping a low profile," Wes said, as though with the comment he could throw everything off and disclaim any connection. His right hand twisted, switching his mailbox key out for the key to his apartment. "Let me know how it turns out."

"Uh-huh," Angelus said. It was amazing. To all appearances Wes didn't give a shit. And, Angelus knew, for the most part it was true.

It was just that tiny bit that would get you. Angelus knew that better than anyone.

Angelus leaned in, putting his arm in between Wes and the doorway. "Going to invite me in?"

Wesley tilted his head to face him. The movement covered the lovely scar, but brought their mouths closer together. "I wasn't planning on it."

Angelus reached down and jerked the doorknob, opening the now unlocked door. He then tapped his hand against the barrier that still existed for him. There was no prize for guessing that Wes had taken the invitation off sometime after soul boy had gone pillow happy. "I can't get in without an invite."

Humor glinted in Wesley's eyes. In yet another moment that made Angelus wonder when Wes either got the gay thing, or stopped pretending not to get the gay thing, he leaned in as though they might kiss. "Yes, I'm very aware of that. Now good night."

Wes ducked under his arm and entered his apartment. He left the door open, which Angelus felt wasn't really a way to tell a guy to leave you alone. "I could stand here all night, you know," Angelus told him.

Wesley walked the distance to his desk on the far wall. He put his mail there and then shucked his leather coat. Underneath it was a tight, long-sleeved white T-shirt. "You could," Wesley agreed. "As an immortal, you could stay there until Hell froze over. Do as you like. I'm going to bed."

"But gee, boss, what about your plans to rule the world?" Angelus said, blinking like an over-eager sidekick and pitching his voice louder at the same time. He smiled in satisfaction when sheer coincidence made one of Wesley's neighbors pass by. She was young, in her 20s, and wearing a short, flower-printed dress. She frowned quizzically, but kept walking. Angelus was pleased to see her shiver when she passed him.

"I'll inform you of the specifics when I'm ready," Wesley said. "Not before."

Angelus leaned against the doorframe and watched the girl vanish around the corner, either heading out for the night or just getting her mail. He kept his ear open for the sound of the security door. "I could kill your neighbors."

Wesley reappeared in the doorway. "Pardon?"

Angelus turned his head back to face him. "If you don't let me in. I could kill your neighbors."

"I see," Wesley said. His lips puckered for a moment in thought. "Start with 203 then. She's had noise complaints."

Angelus tilted his head as though he could look through the ceiling and see the apartment that would have been just above and to the left of Wesley's. He laughed. "What? Playing the stereo too loud and keeping you up?"

"No," Wesley said, with cat-like satisfaction, "they've complained about me. I don't care to be interrupted while I'm having sex so if you're feeling peckish - " Wes gestured upwards. "By all means. Until then,stop bothering me and thinking that you're getting into this flat."

It was a moment - a quickflash of intelligence in Wesley's eyes - and then the door closed.

Angelus grinned. Many things in the world were beautiful. Art and music and a fine performance of La Sylphide were certainly high on the list. But higher - much higher - was the beauty of a downfall.

Angelus blamed it on his Catholic upbringing. Raise a child with stories of Lucifer and the sight of lots of crucifixes and you're bound to fuck up his mind somehow. He starts to get an appreciation for the horror, for the contrast. For the mouth-watering wonderfulness of seeing bad on top of good. Martyrs, bloodied and dying; the agonies of Christ...

And the fall of the highest angel.

In a way Angelus felt envious. Wes was tasting it all for the first time. He was finding out what it was like to embrace darkness while still holding on to the light. And that, Angelus knew personally, was the greatest beauty of them all. It was also the most wonderful torture. And to think - Wes actually wanted him to be a part of it.

Accept no substitutes, Angelus thought. His coat fell easily off of his shoulders to pool on the landing of the stairs. He popped the buttons of his shirtsleeves and let his shirt and wifebeater join it. He folded them up carefully, placing them on top of a curled-up firehose. He undid his belt buckle, and the top of his fly, but left the rest done. He thought about taking off his shoes but didn't bother. Nobody ever looked at shoes. He ran a hand through his hair, scruffing it. He blinked a few times, relaxing his eyes into a just-woke-up expression. He went to apartment 203 and rang Mary McAndrews' bell.

A not-unattractive woman in her thirties answered the door after a few moments.

"Gosh, I'm sorry to wake you," Angelus said, smiling in a perfect display of don't-you-just-hate-this? neighborly camaraderie, "but there's a leak in my place. Right over my bed, can you imagine?"

"Oh my," Mary said, clutching her pink robe closed with thin fingers. "That's horrible."

Angelus nodded. "And with what we pay to live here..."

Mary thoughtfully picked up the thread. "I know! You know I called them months ago about that toilet?"

"My stove hasn't worked right since I moved in," Angelus replied. He shook his head in annoyance. "I tell ya, I don't even know why I bother. 'Specially with that jerk in 105 running for the board next year."

Mary's mouth tightened. "You're kidding."

"I wish," Angelus said. "Can you believe he actually asked me to vote for him?"

"He's insane," Mary happily told him. "Him and his junkie girlfriend."

Angelus bit down a burst of laughter at what had to be the best description of Lilah he'd ever heard. Either that or the worst description of Virginia on record. But he didn't think Mary's memory would go back that far. "Unbelievable," Angelus agreed. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "And me with the early shift."

Mary sighed sympathetically. "I'm so sorry about this. Look - I've tried everything I can to fix that toilet but if you want to give it a go - "

"You don't mind?" Angelus asked. "I know it's a pain and all but I just got to sleep and - "

"Nonsense," Mary said, waving him in. "Believe me, we've got to stick together. Otherwise the freaks will outnumber us, am I right?"

Angelus smiled as he walked in the door. "Can't argue with that."

Mary closed the door, thoughtfully locking it for him. "Seriously. Well the bathroom's this way, um...." she floundered, looking for a word to fill the void.

"Angel," he said, holding his hand out with every semblance of charm. "Call me Angel."

"Mary," she said, shaking his hand. A cat chose that moment to poke its head out from under a chair. It made a soft noise of disapproval. "That big grump is Hazel, and I'd introduce you to Amy and Trish but they're in bed."

"Amy and Trish?" he asked, wondering if Wes's neighbor was a dyke, and poly at that.

"My daughters," Mary explained. She waved a hand in the direction of a photo of Mary, two little girls who looked about 6 and 8, and a 30 something man. "Courtesy of my ex."

Angelus felt his face spreading into a slow grin. "Great. I love kids."

======

Wes was asleep by the time he got rid of the bodies. Angelus felt great. Warm, which was such a rare thing for a vamp. Plus kids. Man, kids were a blast. You could get them to sit right in your lap and say please and thank you if you asked in just the right way. Or you could make them cry and scream. Either way - good times.

Wes's bedroom window gave easily to his touch. He entered, courtesy of the conditional invitation Wes had uttered before. He closed the window, locked it, and slipped over to the bed. He watched Wes sleep. He seemed calm, content.

Angelus thought about searching the place - looking around for the notes Wes was bound to have about what really was going on in that big brain of his - but Wes stirred, and stretched, and suddenly looked too damn tempting.

He had to touch him. Angelus leaned over. With a fingertip he traced the scar along Wes's neck, feeling the stubble along Wes's jaw tickle him in return. He smiled, and then moved his hand up to completely cover Wes's nose and mouth. After all, like he'd told Wes - funny was when it happened to other people.

Wes choked, then woke, then struck out at him. His eyes blazed with anger, and Angelus laughed. "Something on your mind?" he asked, choir-boy innocent. "Go on, speak up."

Wes hit his inner arm, then twisted, swiped his hand under a pillow, and cut Angelus's wrist with a knife.

"Hey!" Angelus protested, taking his hand back and waving it to ease the smart of pain. "That hurts!"

"Asshole!" Wesley croaked, clutching at his throat and swallowing as though it hurt him to speak or breathe. "Utter, total asshole!"

Angelus held his hands out as though to put himself on display. "Evil vampire, Wes, what did you - "

He was cut off when Wesley launched himself at him. Angelus fell to the ground, partially because he wasn't expecting it, and mostly because he wanted it to happen. Wesley - a T-shirt and sweatpant covered hellcat in the purely metaphorical sense - leapt on him, straddled his waist, and began to hit him.

"Bastard!" he shouted. His punches landed with more force than any known form of Wesley had ever possessed. "How dare you? How could you? Asshole! Bastard!"

Angelus took it. He could feel himself bruising but he didn't mind at all. His face shifted, longing to go bumpy, but he kept himself still. He knew this wasn't about killing the neighbor upstairs.

Wes's breath became even more ragged. He missed a punch, listing to the side when his lungs couldn't find the oxygen. "Bastard," he whispered again. His eyes glittered with the hatred he couldn't speak.

"Shh," Angelus said, knowing the moment was right. He moved his hands up Wesley's arms and down his back soothingly. "Easy. Slow breaths."

Wesley ignored him and got a coughing fit for his trouble.

"You know," Angelus said, "you of all people should know better than to not pay attention to the vampire."

Wesley choked, laughing, and struck Angelus's chest again, although this time with much less force. His mouth worked, and Angelus made out the faint sounds of Wesley saying "Don't make me laugh, ass."

Angelus thought the insult thing could actually be endearing in the right circumstances. "Sit up," he told Wes. This time Wesley obeyed, sitting up and scooting back to lean against the bed. Angelus sat beside him and ran a hand up and down Wesley's chest. "Look up at the ceiling. Slow breaths. Easy now. In and out."

The tension gradually melted out of Wesley's frame. He continued to look up at the ceiling as his lungs finally drew a proper breath. After a while he let his gaze fall to the side, and Angelus knew he was looking at the fresh set of bruises. "Thank you," Wes said. His voice was still a croak.

Angelus moved his hand up to trace the scar again. "This never healed right, did it?"

Wesley slowly shook his head. "I was in the park for over a day. There was only so much the doctors could do."

"Bastards," Angelus said. He let Wesley apply the word where ever he wanted it.

"Bastards," Wes agreed. His eyes never left Angelus's face. "Did you kill them?"

Angelus nodded in the direction of the window he'd used to enter. "Got in, didn't I?"

Wes's eyes flickered as though a lens had moved over them. "Why?"

Angelus traced the scar with a fingernail. Goosebumps rose on Wesley's flesh. "You invited me."

"Indeed," Wesley replied. Their eyes met. "I did."

Angelus smiled. He dropped his hand down to fist in Wesley's shirt, and drew him up onto the bed. In a way it was romantic, Angelus thought. Wesley wooing him like this. Back in the day he and Darla had done much the same for each other. Of course, Wes was no Darla, but then again Darla was no Wesley. You met a lot of interesting people when you were undead.

The kiss was hot. Hotter still for the hungry way Wesley worked at his mouth, his tongue darting in and out and lapping at whatever he found.

He was drinking the remains of his neighbor's blood. Wes's cock was already hard. It poked at Angelus's thigh, and he ground himself into it, letting Wesley gasp and clutch at him.

"Scream as loud as you want," Angelus told him. "Neighbors won't complain."

Wesley laughed. Then hit him again. Then bit Angelus's lower lip savagely and scolded him for the laughter. "I told you not to," Wesley said.

Angelus had let his full weight press down on Wesley. "I won't always do what you say."

Wes melted into him, hooked a leg around him, and rocked their bodies together. Angelus took one of Wesley's wrists in his and squeezed hard enough to leave bruises of his own. Wes groaned and tilted his head back. Angelus bent to lap at the scar that kept taunting him. "Your junkie girlfriend ever make you feel like this?" he asked, grazing the scar with his teeth.

If Wes got the reference he didn't say. "No," he replied instead. "No one does."

"Good," Angelus told him. He pulled the sweatpants down and caressed Wes's cock with a steady hand. "Don't forget it."

For some reason this elicited another bark of laughter. "I bloody well can't, can I?"

Too much, Angelus thought. There's too much I don't know here. But Wesley moved against him and erased the thought from his mind because damn if Wes wasn't a pretty thing and Hell not like Angelus ever fucked a Watcher before anyway. Okay - ex-Watcher. Okay - depended on your definition of "fucked". But still...

"C'mere," Angelus said, rolling Wes over onto his stomach. He undid his own fly and pressed his cock against Wes's ass, happy when Wes responded by pressing back. "This how you like it? Hands and knees?"

"I like it inside of me," Wesley responded. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes dancing with sardonic light. "Of course if you've forgotten how it works..."

Angelus jammed two fingers in, eliciting a sharp gasp from his would-be lover. "Keep this up," he promised, "and you're getting all of me without lube. Now do you want that?"

Wesley swayed his hips, taking him in deeper. "Depends upon the circumstances," he answered.

"I'll keep that in mind," Angelus said. "Now get the lube or I'll literally tear you a new one."

Wesley chuckled, leaned back to brush Angelus's mouth with a light kiss, then retrieved a tube of lubricant from the nightstand.

"Lilah likes it up the ass, huh?" Angelus asked as he prepped himself.

Wes had pillowed his head on his hands and was watching Angelus dreamily. "Yes, but that's not why I have it."

Angelus tossed the lube aside and slid himself in. Wes was no virgin, that was clear. He didn't tighten, or get the clear expression on his face that he was fighting the urge to go to the bathroom. Instead he pushed back, demanding penetration, and made disapproving noises when Angelus didn't move quickly enough to satisfy. "Be patient," Angelus told him, circling a hand around his cock once more. "It'll do you good."

"Fuck you," Wesley replied, even though his dick was diamond-hard and leaking precome.

"I'm not much of a bottom," Angelus said.

They started to move properly, Angelus gearing himself for the most pleasure, but giving Wes's cock an approving little twitch whenever he moved just right. He licked and sucked at Wesley's back, laving at the taste of sweat on his shoulders. "Not bad, Pryce," he purred. His vision blurred, then sharpened as his game face came out. "Not bad at all." He bent to bite.

Wesley jerked back, moving quickly enough to strike his shoulderblade against Angelus's nose. "Fuck off," Wesley said, glaring at him. "I'm not some common meal."

Angelus gave a bark of laughter and swatted Wesley on the ass. "Sor-ry," he drawled. "Not my fault you're such a fang tease."

"Deal with it," Wes instructed. His head fell forward as his body drew closer to orgasm. "I'm not going to - God - become some prat in a vampire brothel."

"Who said anything about a brothel?" Angelus asked. He gave Wesley's ear a quick nip, then melted out of game face. Wes's ass squeezed and swallowed him tightly, making his own concentration hard. "I just thought you wanted the full experience."

"Maybe someday," Wesley murmured. He grabbed at Angelus's hand and used it to stroke his own cock. "But not now. God - please."

Angelus responded, thrusting harder. He watched Wesley writhe beneath him, getting his own rocks off from the sight of the other man so turned on and degraded. It wasn't any mortal who could go from protecting the Slayer to begging him for a good fuck. It was beautiful.

Words got beyond both of them. Wesley tensed, ready to come. Angelus grabbed the base of his cock and made it clear that was not happening first. Wes gave a whimper, and a moan, and each sound was like a touch on his aching dick.

He hadn't fucked anybody since coming out of the water. Although the fun upstairs had tempted him, he was glad he saved it for Wes. There was a certain joy in coming loud and long and hard, and there was another joy in thinking you made someone come loud and long and hard. Angelus screamed. Wes looked content with the results.

His own orgasm out of the way, Angelus went back to stroking Wes's cock and nibbling at the veins along the back of his neck. Wes shivered, and moaned, and thrust in frustration until finally he got the friction he was looking for and gasped out:

"God - yes - Angel..." And really that was no surprise to anyone.

Wesley then calmed, and lay back, and Angelus lay with him with his cock still deep inside. He watched as Wes breathed softly, slowly returning to a place that had words. People could be broken in two ways, he knew. One was quick, and sharp. Pressure applied to just the right point at just the right time and - snap! They were broken into parts like a dry cracker.

The other was slower. Longer. And you didn't break so much as bend. Pressure was applied, but it was a different kind, and it was the kind you didn't even realize was there until the curve had become a part of you. There was a beauty in breaking people. There was a beauty in clutching onto evil while you still had a soul. Angelus thought about this, and made his decision as Wesley's blue eyes flickered back open and looked into his.

"That was great," Angelus said, brushing a kiss over Wesley's open lips. "Partner."

Fin