“Gunn? Lorne?” Buffy called out as she and Angel strode triumphantly – well, more wearily squished – into the Hyperion’s lobby. There was no answer.

“Guess everyone went home,” Buffy said. Angel nodded.

“Shower and bed?” Her hopeful tone left him feeling even wearier than the battle had.

“Yeah. Sure.”

She was halfway to the elevator before she noticed he hadn’t followed her. “Angel? Come on.”

“Need to get something to eat first.”

“Oh. O.K.”

He had to give her credit: she’d gotten better at disguising the slight grimace she made at the mention of him feeding. She probably wasn’t even aware she did it. “You go on, I’ll be right up.”

“Alright.” She left.

He took his time in the kitchen. He really didn’t remember Buffy being this clingy back in Sunnydale – maybe she had been, and he’d forgotten. Memory cheated; even vampires with eidetic memories. As a boy, Galway Town seemed a grand and glorious place to him; to the grown man it seemed small and shabby. Buffy was a young woman, not some static artifact and three years was a long time for her. The Buffy he’d known, that very young, very innocent Buffy, was long gone. So was the melodramatic romantic hero he’d been, and good riddance. Unfortunately Buffy was unwilling to accept or make any changes.

He sat at the table and sipped his blood until he heard her get out of the shower. He gave her another 15 minutes before swallowing down the cooling dregs and went upstairs to his room. A tiny sigh of relief slipped out when he saw there was no light showing under the door of her room.

He slipped quietly into his room. It had changed for the better, thanks to Buffy. She’d helped him unpack his things and arrange them around the room; it looked like someone lived there now but it still didn’t feel like his room. Connor’s crib should be next to the bed, and Cordelia’s stuff should be cluttering up the place. He missed her casual invasion of his room, her tactless commentary, the way she never let him have the last word… He wanted her back, if only as his friend, but he didn’t have a clue about how to make it happen.

He went to bed and was almost asleep when he heard the connecting door open. Buffy padded over to his bed and slid in beside him. The bed barely dipped under her weight and the body that molded itself to his chest was all angles these days, the sweet curves he remembered had been worn away by years of fighting and loss. He wished she’d eat more, but he knew better than to say anything to her about it. Cordelia had set him straight him about that one when he’d innocently mentioned that she looked nice with a couple of extra pounds on her. Remembering her tirade he smiled.

A hand began drawing hopeful circles on his thigh. He took a breath. “Buffy – aren’t you tired?”

“Nope. Kinda wound up.”

She kissed him. That was still good; when they kiss he still felt the connection. Sometimes. He wondered if she’d stop if he admitted he didn’t love her.

Buffy groaned when he palmed her tiny breast, the nipple hardening against his hand as she tweaked his nipple in return. She was no innocent anymore; he wondered sometimes about where she’d gotten all this experience, somehow he doubted it was Riley. Especially since some of her expertise seemed oddly familiar—naw, he was probably just imagining things.

They knew each other’s bodies pretty well by now. Knew where each other’s buttons were and exactly how hard and long to push them. When she comes she’s loud; her body clenched around him so hard it felt more like punishment and then he came in one bright burst and it was over.

Sated, Buffy kissed him one last time before she slid off him; she was asleep a few seconds later.

He couldn’t sleep. Angel got out of bed and went to sit by the window. He glanced back at Buffy lying wrapped up in the sheets, her body relaxed and face serene, all that manic energy transformed into afterglow.

The night city sparkled against the overmatched sky. Cordelia was out there somewhere, on a date with some guy she barely knew. A date with a “nice normal guy named Jeff”. Who’d better not lay a hand on her. Not that she’d let him. It was only a first date, and Cordy would never do anything on a first date. Well, O.K. there was that one time with that bastard Wilson, but she knew better now, right? First date, the most she’s gonna let him have is a kiss, on the cheek, maybe on the lips and no tongue. Jeff better not try anything, because if he dared slide his hands under that goddamn skimpy excuse for a top she had on so he could feel the weight of her perfect breasts… Angel’s growl rumbled through the darkened room.

“Angel?” Buffy sounded disoriented. He watched her scan the room worriedly and the only partial release of tension when she spotted him sitting by the window. “What’s wrong?”

Looking at her anxious face he had a sudden urge to call her ‘Buff’ just to see what she’d do. Might be fun…then he shoved the urge back down into the dark where it belonged and got back into the bed. He put his arm around her and held her close.

“Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

Gunn was ambulatory when they left the bar, just. Wesley steered him to his truck. “I suppose I’ll simply have to leave my bike here and hope for the best,” Wesley said with an unhappy look at his pride and joy.

“Naw man, you don’t wanna do that.” Before Wesley could stop him, Gunn picked up the motorcycle and boosted it into the truck bed with a crash. Wesley decided that it would probably be best if he didn’t look now.

He removed the keys dangling from Gunn’s hand. “I think I’d better drive. Yes?”

Gunn didn’t say much on the drive over. He leaned back and dozed. His head cast a shadow on the window, but there was no matching reflection in the glass. Wesley could never quite take that for granted no matter how many times he saw it.

Gunn sat down hard on Wesley’s couch and Wesley, exhausted by the struggle to get him there, flopped down next to him. The vampire let his head flop against the cushions and closed his eyes. “Man, I’m toasted. This is just wrong… I thought vamps had superior resistance to alcohol.”

“Well, yes, but I think you’ll find ‘greater capacity’ does not equal ‘infinite’.”

“You’re not drunk.” Gunn sounded distinctly aggrieved.

“Someone needed to be able to drive home.”

Gunn’s hostility evaporated. “Yeah. Thinkin’ ahead. That’s why you’re the man.” He yawned and leaned his head against Wesley’s shoulder. “Man, can’t believe that three years ago, I didn’t even know your name, now you’re my bro’. You’re my fucking hero, y’know? Can always count on you.”

Warmly disorienting emotions surged inside Wesley. “Gunn. I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Just wanted to make sure you knew.” Gunn yawned again. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

“You can stay here of course. It should be dark enough with the shades drawn.”

“Mmmm.” Gunn turned his face and nuzzled Wesley’s neck. Wesley was suddenly very aware of the lack of breath against his skin, and the coolness of the mouth unexpectedly pressed to his bare skin. He tried to pull away but Gunn’s arm fell across his shoulders and pulled him closer. Wesley looked into his dark brown eyes and saw nothing to be afraid of.

“Don’ be like that,” Gunn breathed and kissed him.

Wesley’s mouth opened in shock that Gunn apparently misread as encouragement to press his suit. He’d never been kissed by a man before and he was surprised at how soft Gunn’s lips were, soft and a little cool because of course Gunn wasn’t a man at all but a vampire. Gunn’s mouth tasted of liquor and a faint coppery tang, Wesley knew he ought to have broken the kiss off by now. Despite vampires’ notoriously polyamorous lust he was sure that if he didn’t end it Gunn would hate him tomorrow for letting it go on so long. He was stopping this now, before it went too far. Immediately. Soon. Very soon. In due time…

When he finally pulled away. Gunn leaned back to look up at him with a goofy smile. “Hey, Wes.” His hand traced the curve of Wesley’s cheek, then his eyes drifted shut.

“Gunn?” There was no response; he’d passed out. “Lovely.” Wesley tried to get up, but Gunn’s grip tightened when he tried to wriggle free. Finally he gave up and simply lay there. It wasn’t too bad actually, Gunn’s body didn’t generate any heat, but in this heat that was something of a plus. Wesley sighed and closed his eyes.

“Poor Charles. Still can’t hold his liquor.” Wesley’s eyes snapped open. Fred was stroking the air above her former lover’s face. “Wish he could see me.”

“I’m working on the problem,” Wesley said quietly.

“I know you are.” She floated back a little and raised her eyebrows. “Sooo, Wesley, somethin’ you want to tell me about you and Charles?”

Wesley blushed. “Fred, I assure you…”

Fred giggled.

Sunday Morning

The sunlight reflecting in the glass fronted building opposite Jeff’s condo was what woke her. Oops, she thought, but let herself lie there for a few more minutes. It had been a long time since she’d woken up feeling this good. Too long. She wondered if Angel was still up, she’d caught him more than once, lingering in the garden while the sky grew light; playing chicken with the sunrise.

Naw, he’d be in bed, with Buffy.

Right girl, time to go.

Good old Jeff never stirred while she hurriedly dressed. She turned at the door for one last look at him. Good-looking, nice, smart, plenty of money. He could be her perfect boyfriend, they’d date, get engaged, marry, have two darling children and raise them in perfect suburban bliss.

If only.

Unfortunately, financial analysis didn’t really prepare you for dealing with monsters, apocalypses, prophecies, and big ‘E’ Evil. She’ll never see Jeff again because he’d last about two minutes in her world if she let him be sucked into it and he didn’t deserve that.

Once she was safely out in the warm summer morning, some of the good feeling started to creep back. Hard to maintain that angsty feeling when the world was balmy and golden and you’ve got that well-fucked feeling between your legs. As she got into her jeep she visualized Angelus burning up and blowing away as ash in the morning light. She checked her reflection in the vanity mirror. Makeup gone, lipstick smeared, eyes like a raccoon but she liked what she saw.

He heard the moans and dragging footsteps a few moments before the haggard figure appeared in the doorway. Wesley looked up from his tea with a smile. “Morning – well afternoon would be more accurate.”

Gunn shuffled over to the table and sat down. He didn’t look at all well. So much for the question of whether the undead suffered from hangovers.

“Coffee or tea? I’m afraid I don’t have any blood.”

“Crffsee.” Gunn laid his head on the table. Wesley thought about it and went to make some coffee.

Two cups of coffee later, Gunn was upright and largely recovered. Vampiric refractory abilities were truly amazing.

…And not solely in the matter of hangovers, Wesley’s traitorous subconscious insisted on adding.

“Sorry I passed out on you last night.”

“Happens to the best of us. So, feeling better? Prepared to beard the dreaded Buffy monster in her den?” Gunn had told him about Buffy coming to Los Angeles to help. Wesley had been slightly shocked to hear that she’d left the Hellmouth unguarded, but apparently it wasn’t the first time she’d done so. He supposed it was just a matter of time before she showed up once she heard about the curse being modified.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“So, how is Cordelia?” Fred leaned over Gunn’s shoulder and rubbed her cheek against his. Wesley looked away; it was quite distracting watching her pale skin dipping in and out of the smooth brown surface of Gunn’s skin.

“Better I guess, she had a date last night. But her and Angel don’t have much to do with each other.”

“That’s understandable, but very sad.” Fred kissed the top of Gunn’s head and smiled.

“Yeah. Man, I wish you could come back. I miss you. Cordy misses you. Shit, I think Angel might even go for it. He knows you saved all of us. He’s a lot calmer about, y’know, now.” Wesley watched sourly as Fred mirrored Gunn’s earnest expression and nodded in agreement.

“No!” Wesley snapped. Gunn stared at him. “Sorry, but I don’t think Angel will ever forgive me – and I don’t give a toss. I’m glad you and I are friends again, and I hope that someday I’ll be able to reconnect with Cordelia, but as far as I’m concerned Angel can go straight to hell!

“Oh. O.K.” Gunn looked disappointed, but didn’t push it. Fred shook her head sadly and a moment later faded away.

Gunn couldn’t leave while it was daylight so they spent the rest of the day watching movies and just hanging out, just the two of them. Gunn didn’t say anything about the kiss and neither did Wesley. As they sat there on the couch watching Los Angeles being fried by the Martians in glorious Technicolor Wesley found himself wondering what his friend would do if he curled his hand around the smooth back of his head and kissed him again in the filtered light of day. Would he kiss him back, or would he shout angrily, or simply recoil and then sadly tell him ‘sorry’.

He couldn’t risk it.

“What’s up?” Gunn asked. Wesley shrugged.

“Nothing. After this is done, what about a game of Risk?”

“Sure,” Gunn turned back towards the screen and Wesley took a slightly disappointed breath as he stepped back from the brink.

“How much longer?” He snapped and winced at the way his voice echoed in the confines of his mystical container. That slimy bastard Rayne had promised to do something about the problem, but so far he’d done nothing. He’d been trapped here for more that a week and while Marta had been kind enough to set a large screen television directly in front of the orb’s ‘eye’ he was still extremely bored.

The sorcerer’s smile was as slick as greased glass. “We’re almost there. I’m awaiting a last few ingredients – FedEx’s estimable website shows they were dispatched yesterday morning from Burma, so I should have the items in hand by tomorrow. Of course, we have yet to identify a suitable subject.”

“Surely it can’t be that difficult to find someone? This is Los Angeles after all there are thousands of good looking morons roaming about that will never be missed. Just grab one off the streets. I have the number for a sub-contractor the firm uses.”

“Unfortunately, this isn’t a simple human sacrifice. It‘s quite a delicate matter to remove the soul and consciousness from a body without damaging it. Your normal, morally average human won’t do.” Linwood continued to glare. Rayne sighed. “We need a subject who has already weakened or to put it quaintly ‘damned’ their soul at a relatively early age. Which is not, sadly, as common as one might think. However, I have my agents searching and I should have a short list for you in a few days. You will simply have to be patient for a little while longer.”

Linwood decided that one of his first acts once he has a body again will be to kill Ethan Rayne. Right after he disposed of Marta. Then he had a thought that caused the grey haze of despair filling his head to lift and gave him tingles from his notional toes to the top of his illusory head. He cleared his throat. “Rayne.”

The man turned back and waited with a politely quizzical expression.

Linwood will make sure his death is painful and slow. He smiled. “I have a suggestion for a candidate.”

Rayne looked at Linwood with new respect after he’d explained. “Mr. Murrow I’m impressed. That is worthy of an acolyte of Janus. But -- are you quite sure about this? If we do pull it off it will require some major adaptations on your part.”

Linwood shrugged. “Yes, but well worth it. And it’s the last place the partners would ever think of looking for me.”

Angel hesitated outside the door to his office. Cordelia was in there, he’d sensed her presence as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. He’d been surprised to find her here since it was Saturday. It was just the two of them in the hotel: Buffy had gone to San Diego to visit Dawn and her father, Gunn was off to the movies, and Lorne was gone again – to Vegas this time. It was the first time they’d been alone together since Buffy had arrived. Probably he should just go back upstairs and leave her in peace.

“Come in,” she said when he knocked.

She was sitting behind his desk with a pile of invoices spread out in front of her. She looked up and her face froze mid-smile when she saw him. “Hey Angel.”

“Hey. What are you doing here? I mean, it’s Saturday, shouldn’t you be at the beach or something.” He kept his tone light and some of the tension went out of her.

“Yeah, well I needed to do some paperwork. Um, sorry about taking over your office, I can get out of your way...” She was wearing minimal makeup, her hair pulled back into a messy bun and the top she had on was more comfortable than stylish. God, he’s never seen anything so beautiful. It’s all he can do to keep from grabbing her and pushing her down on the desk and ravaging her luscious mouth.

He’d thought he was going to lose his mind when she came in reeking of sex the morning after her date with Jeff. He’d really wanted to track that nice, normal son-of-a-bitch down and remove all chance of him fucking Cordelia or any woman ever again.

“No! Ah, that’s O.K. Um.” The small fan humming away on the desk blew her scent into his face; he savored the faint fragrance of her lemon-ginger bodywash overlaying Cordelia’s personal scent. No hint of Jeff or any other man on her skin. Good. “Want something to drink?”

She smiled at him, God he’d missed that smile. “Sure. Thanks.”

He came back with her diet Sprite, and a sandwich. “Hey, thanks! I kinda forgot the time.”

“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you later…” He backed towards the door.

“Angel, um, you want to have lunch together? It’s been awhile.”

He couldn’t help it, he grinned.

“You should do that more often,” she said. “Well, go get your blood. I’ll wait.”