Protocol, Part Twenty-Five
Jun. 25th, 2004 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Mucho thanks to Pet Sitter, for pointing out a hugely embarassing continuity error. No, I won't tell you what it was. It's gone now, and that's all thanks to PS. So thanks, PS! =)
Also, I'll do my best to reply to all the comments, but with LJ hacking up hairballs it might take longer than normal. Not ignoring you, promise!
With that, I give you...
Previous parts can be found here.
PART TWENTY-FIVE
Wesley wasn't certain he could ever become used to this. Even with practice he couldn't find his bearing. He tried to study it, to learn the language of this touch as he had always learned in the past, but it was far too immediate, far too *real* for comprehension.
It was warm, for a start. Hot even. Sweat trickled down his neck and along the backs of his thighs. It clung in damp pools in the cloth of the borrowed sweatpants as Angel's strong hands guided him, moving him into place so that Wesley straddled Angel's lap and Angel's hips moved up and in with a precision that would have done someone in Wesley's position very proud.
Wesley thought about pointing that out, wondering if perhaps this was more of the strange game Angel had suggested, but speaking meant forgoing kissing, and Wesley was loath to do that.
Which in and of itself was also new. Hunger. Need. *Want* as the far too perfectly masculine vampire claimed his mouth with tongue and scrapes of teeth. It made Wesley gasp, and press closer. Which was wrong, terribly wrong, but he couldn't stop himself.
"Good," Angel told him, but that was so much contradiction. He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't be *allowed* to do this. But Angel encouraged him with word and deed, and Wesley's willpower was vanishing under the rapture of it.
Angel's hand moved up, then down again, sliding past the loose knot at Wesley's waist and then moving until fire-warmed fingers touched Wesley's blood-heated cock. Now was the time for true moaning, and trembling. So wrong to want this, so utterly wrong to crave it. And yet - "My Lord…"
"Angel," Angel reminded him. His lips had moved back. He bit and suckled on Wesley's ear, not stopping even when Wesley began to shiver. "Call me Angel."
"Angel," Wesley tried again, then pressed closer still. Angel's own shirt was wet from where Wesley's skin had touched it. The fistfuls Wesley clutched left wrinkled palm prints in their wake. He scrabbled his hands downwards, reaching for the erection that was rubbing into his leg. "May I? Please?"
A warm chuckle breathed over his neck. "You sound so eager."
"I am," Wesley promised.
"Who am I to say no?" Angel said. He shifted position, rocking his hips up until his hard cock made contact with Wesley's hand. "Go ahead."
Wesley was happy to obey. He licked his fingertips, then wrapped them around the thick shaft. A quick half-closing of Angel's eyes told him everything he needed to know about his husband's pleasure. Wesley worked, then, finding his pace, doing what he could to make Angel's pupils dilate, his lips part, and then his head fall back against the safety of the couch as his hands held Wesley tighter and his body tensed and Wesley worked his hand faster and faster and faster until Angel cried out, and laughed, and Wesley's hand became wet and sticky.
"Nice," Angel murmured, sleepy and content.
"I'm glad I could please you, my - my Angel," Wesley told him. He waited until Angel's eyes held something like focus, then slowly licked his own hand clean.
His reward - not that he had been looking for one - came when Angel's fingers twitched around Wesley's own aching erection. "Please yourself."
Wesley shook his head. "My Lord, I can't."
Angel moved his fingers. Wesley's breath began to stutter. "I want you to please yourself."
"My Lord, it is *forbidden*," Wesley reminded him, though Angel's hand kept moving and Wesley felt loath to pull away.
Angel studied him. "Would you obey any order of mine that was *not* about pleasing yourself?"
Wesley nodded at once. "Yes, my Lord."
"Okay," Angel said. He adjusted his grip, touching his thumb to his fingers so that Wesley's cock was wrapped in a circle. Once there, he held his hand perfectly still. "Move your hips."
Wesley frowned. "Pardon, my Lord?"
"Move your hips," Angel repeated. He put his hand behind Wesley to guide him. "Like this."
For a moment Wesley allowed himself to be led as Angel moved him forward. Then he felt the symphony of friction against his body and he automatically held still. "My Lord - "
"Move your hips," Angel repeated. "That's an order. I'm not telling you to please yourself. I'm telling you to move your body."
Wesley trembled. "My Lord, I - "
"Would you obey this order if my hand wasn't there?" Angel asked.
"I - yes," Wesley admitted. "But, my Lord - "
"I put my hand there," Angel said. "Not you. Don't think about my hand. Just think about moving. Can you do that for me, Wes?"
It seemed an exercise in meditation or torture. But either way the look of hope and encouragement in Angel's eyes served to melt away just enough of Wesley's fear. "Yes, my Lord."
Angel's smile was dazzling. "Good. Then move."
Wesley closed his eyes. It was too much to have all of his senses stimulated at once. Instead he tried to clear his head, thinking only of the command. Move. Shift hips forward, then back, forward, then back. Do only that. Nothing else. Don't think of the hand, or the pleasure, or the feeling of -
"Don't get scared," Angel murmured. His lips were by Wesley's mouth again, teasing soft kisses out of him. "Don't think. Don't think about anything."
But thinking of *nothing* was impossible. Not when Angel himself was there to fill his mind, and his thoughts. And - God - a fingertip, there, against his ass and pressing in, finding its way so that back now brought sparks and jolts as much did forward and it was *wrong*. *Wrong*. He wasn't allowed, he wasn't permitted to do this.
"Just move," Angel told him. The hand around Wesley's cock remained perfectly still. "That's all you're doing. You're being good, and obedient."
Wesley felt moisture at his eyes. He didn't know if it was tears or sweat. Regardless, he kept them tightly closed, his hands clutching at the pillows behind Angel now, as though his grip could somehow hurt the vampire. He bit into his lower lip and kept moving. Obeying his husband, his master. A spouse must be obedient. He must do everything his husband tells him. He must be dutiful, and mindful, and -
"*Oh*," Wesley gasped, as he felt electric shocks dance over his skin.
"Don't stop," Angel told him.
Spouses must obey. Wesley kept moving, feeling himself fall over the line between protocol and desire as his body woke up, coming alive as only Angel seemed to make it do, as though this - *yes* - was what it was built for, what each *cell* was made to do and feel and oh - so wonderful, so delightful, so dizzying, so perfect, so - so - *so* -
Wesley gasped, then gasped again, then hiccupped as the air in his lungs and the waves of ecstasy going through him collided and went straight to his head in a rush.
"Perfect, huh?" Angel asked, nuzzling Wesley's cheek as he slowly calmed down.
Wesley hadn't known he was speaking aloud, but he didn't care now that he was aware of it. "Yes, my Lord. My Angel."
"So are you," Angel told him.
Wesley wanted to dispute that. But there, wrapped in the safety of the vampire's arms, he thought that maybe, just in this one circumstance, it might possibly be allowed to be true.
***
There was erstwhile cleanup. Then eating. Angel pressed chocolate on him, and marshmallows, then watched carefully as they toasted the white treats over the fire. Then cookies were produced and the gooey concoction was turned into sandwiches.
"I feel certain this isn't how these are made," Wesley said, as he tried to bite into a melting mess of white and brown and what had once been a chocolate chip cookie.
"Connor's invention," Angel said, having a surprising amount of luck with his own choice of shortbread. "Normally you'd use graham crackers."
Wesley watched him, taking in the details of Angel's chocolate-coated fingers, and the way his lips sucked in the burnt marshmallow when it came near. "Are we still playing our game? The role reversal?"
"If you want," Angel said. Then, with a rakish grin, added, "My Lord."
Wesley felt his insides twist at that, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. "Then I'd like to kiss you."
"That's a command I'm happy to obey," Angel told him.
The snacks were forgotten as Wesley crawled into Angel's lap and licked away every hint of sweetness that he could find on the vampire's body.
***
It was later, much later, when the illusion of their haven was snatched away.
"East checkpoint's been hit," Spike said, walking directly into the suite without any sort of preamble. His demeanor held no hints of his usual joking, or cockiness. Wesley found himself sobering at the sight of this.
Angel reacted much more quickly. He pulled the spare blanket off of the couch and threw it around Wesley, covering him up so that Spike could not see him out of his required clothing. "Wes, go into the bedroom and change."
Wesley hesitated. "My Lord, I could stay and help."
If the look on Spike's face had been sobering, the look on Angel's was positively terrifying. "Wes, do as you're told. Go in there and wait for me."
Wesley got to his feet at once. "Yes, my Lord."
He changed into what could be termed "working clothes". Tight-fitting sweater, durable slacks. No less beautiful than anything that he owned, but more practical for what he felt might be the tasks he was about to be given. That done, he waited, pacing as he tried to decide if he should make the attempt to predict Angel's needs, then finally sitting at the small table near the fire, his hands in his lap, his body in the perfect posture of readiness.
Angel came in soon after. He left the door open, which suggested that Spike was no longer outside.
"There's an organization called Wolfram & Hart," Angel explained, not breaking stride as he shucked his shirt and pants to the floor. "We're at war with them. Actually, we're at war with plenty of people. But right now they're the biggest."
"I had heard something about that, my Lord," Wesley said. He then dared assume that Angel would not *mind* him having knowledge. "They are an ancient entity. This current incarnation is only one of many."
"No kidding," Angel said. A button down shirt was shrugged on. Leather pants were slipped into. "They don't like me. They don't like any of this. They want all of this land to themselves and we're standing in their way."
"Now they are attacking you," Wesley guessed.
"Attacking, breaching, killing," Angel said. He opened up a trunk and pulled weapons out. Leather straps of some kind were buckled to his wrists. It took Wesley a moment to realize that stakes were attached to them. "They hit one of our checkpoints today and hit it hard. If we don't stop them, they're coming straight here."
"How far away, my Lord?" Wesley asked.
"Depends on how fast they work," Angel said. The wrist-stakes secured, he folded his shirt sleeves down over them, buttoning the cuffs. "In peacetime we'd get there in two weeks. Put a rush on it and they could be here any day."
Wesley stood up. "How may I serve, my Lord?"
Angel tossed a smile at him for that. "I *need* you to serve your Lord. This is the big time, Wes. I need you to do your job. I need a spouse, and a prince. I'm going out and there's no telling how long I'll be gone. Somebody has to be in charge here. That's going to be you."
"I'm happy to perform any job you ask of me, my Lord," Wesley said.
Angel pulled a sword out of its sheath, studying its blade critically. "You need to be in charge. You need to make sure everything gets done. Food, supplies, the works. This is going to be hard, Wes. We're in lockdown conditions. There's going to be people scared, and angry. Morale is going to be tough. I need you to stand up. Be the leader. Be *me*, since I can't be here to do it."
"I will do my best to honor you, my Lord," Wesley said.
Angel finally stopped and looked at him. "This isn't what I want. Not by a long shot. I wanted to acclimate you, and get you into the swing of things. Hell, *introduce* you to everybody so they'd even know who you were. Now this, and on top of what you were like this morning - "
"My Lord," Wesley said, keeping his voice steady, "this is my job. With due respect I remind my Lord that *this* is what I am trained to do. To be given difficult tasks under difficult circumstances is as much a part of what the Council prepares for me as anything else I have learned in order to serve you."
"Maybe, but I don't like it," Angel came over, putting his hands on Wesley's arms. "You okay? Seriously?"
"The problems of this morning have passed, if that is my Lord's question," Wesley said.
"What if they come back?" Angel asked. "You're here, on the floor, you can't even breathe - "
Wesley flinched, but didn't pull away. "My Lord, I *can* serve you."
Angel looked into his eyes for a long moment. "Okay. Trust goes both ways. I'll trust you can do this. Hell, I *know* you can do this. I believe in you, Wes. I know you won't let me down."
In spite of the circumstances, Wesley smiled. "I shall try not to fail you, my Lord."
Angel pressed a kiss to his forehead, then let him go. "I’m leaving Gunn behind. He got hurt in the last battle anyway. He knows all the technical details. If you've got a doubt about something, ask him."
"Yes, my Lord," Wesley promised.
"Communication won't be good," Angel said. "They've got spies and trackers like you won't believe. Willow can only do so much. It might be a while before you hear from me again."
Wesley felt the reawakening of fear. "How long do you think you'll be away, my Lord?"
Angel's expression became somber. "They're hitting us hard, Wes. To be honest, I really don't know."
"A true battle, then," Wesley realized.
Angel nodded. "A real war."
"I - " Wesley looked around, his lessons in this matter belatedly returning to him. "I should give you something. A memento, to inspire my Lord to succeed and return."
Angel caught Wesley's left hand, raising it to his lips so he could kiss the wedding ring on his finger. "You already did."
Wesley curled his fingers around Angel's hand. His lungs felt tight. "My Lord - "
"I'll come back," Angel promised.
"I'll be miserable without you, my Lord," Wesley said, the trained words falling automatically out of his lips. Then, surprised, he whispered, "I *will*."
"I come home," Angel reassured him. He leaned in, pressing a long, slow kiss to Wesley's mouth. "I promise. I won't stop protecting you."
There were more trained words and speeches. But Wesley dismissed all of them and spoke the only ones that mattered. "Be *safe*, my Lord."
"Do my best," Angel said.
They shared one last kiss, then Angel was gone.
Also, I'll do my best to reply to all the comments, but with LJ hacking up hairballs it might take longer than normal. Not ignoring you, promise!
With that, I give you...
Previous parts can be found here.
PART TWENTY-FIVE
Wesley wasn't certain he could ever become used to this. Even with practice he couldn't find his bearing. He tried to study it, to learn the language of this touch as he had always learned in the past, but it was far too immediate, far too *real* for comprehension.
It was warm, for a start. Hot even. Sweat trickled down his neck and along the backs of his thighs. It clung in damp pools in the cloth of the borrowed sweatpants as Angel's strong hands guided him, moving him into place so that Wesley straddled Angel's lap and Angel's hips moved up and in with a precision that would have done someone in Wesley's position very proud.
Wesley thought about pointing that out, wondering if perhaps this was more of the strange game Angel had suggested, but speaking meant forgoing kissing, and Wesley was loath to do that.
Which in and of itself was also new. Hunger. Need. *Want* as the far too perfectly masculine vampire claimed his mouth with tongue and scrapes of teeth. It made Wesley gasp, and press closer. Which was wrong, terribly wrong, but he couldn't stop himself.
"Good," Angel told him, but that was so much contradiction. He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't be *allowed* to do this. But Angel encouraged him with word and deed, and Wesley's willpower was vanishing under the rapture of it.
Angel's hand moved up, then down again, sliding past the loose knot at Wesley's waist and then moving until fire-warmed fingers touched Wesley's blood-heated cock. Now was the time for true moaning, and trembling. So wrong to want this, so utterly wrong to crave it. And yet - "My Lord…"
"Angel," Angel reminded him. His lips had moved back. He bit and suckled on Wesley's ear, not stopping even when Wesley began to shiver. "Call me Angel."
"Angel," Wesley tried again, then pressed closer still. Angel's own shirt was wet from where Wesley's skin had touched it. The fistfuls Wesley clutched left wrinkled palm prints in their wake. He scrabbled his hands downwards, reaching for the erection that was rubbing into his leg. "May I? Please?"
A warm chuckle breathed over his neck. "You sound so eager."
"I am," Wesley promised.
"Who am I to say no?" Angel said. He shifted position, rocking his hips up until his hard cock made contact with Wesley's hand. "Go ahead."
Wesley was happy to obey. He licked his fingertips, then wrapped them around the thick shaft. A quick half-closing of Angel's eyes told him everything he needed to know about his husband's pleasure. Wesley worked, then, finding his pace, doing what he could to make Angel's pupils dilate, his lips part, and then his head fall back against the safety of the couch as his hands held Wesley tighter and his body tensed and Wesley worked his hand faster and faster and faster until Angel cried out, and laughed, and Wesley's hand became wet and sticky.
"Nice," Angel murmured, sleepy and content.
"I'm glad I could please you, my - my Angel," Wesley told him. He waited until Angel's eyes held something like focus, then slowly licked his own hand clean.
His reward - not that he had been looking for one - came when Angel's fingers twitched around Wesley's own aching erection. "Please yourself."
Wesley shook his head. "My Lord, I can't."
Angel moved his fingers. Wesley's breath began to stutter. "I want you to please yourself."
"My Lord, it is *forbidden*," Wesley reminded him, though Angel's hand kept moving and Wesley felt loath to pull away.
Angel studied him. "Would you obey any order of mine that was *not* about pleasing yourself?"
Wesley nodded at once. "Yes, my Lord."
"Okay," Angel said. He adjusted his grip, touching his thumb to his fingers so that Wesley's cock was wrapped in a circle. Once there, he held his hand perfectly still. "Move your hips."
Wesley frowned. "Pardon, my Lord?"
"Move your hips," Angel repeated. He put his hand behind Wesley to guide him. "Like this."
For a moment Wesley allowed himself to be led as Angel moved him forward. Then he felt the symphony of friction against his body and he automatically held still. "My Lord - "
"Move your hips," Angel repeated. "That's an order. I'm not telling you to please yourself. I'm telling you to move your body."
Wesley trembled. "My Lord, I - "
"Would you obey this order if my hand wasn't there?" Angel asked.
"I - yes," Wesley admitted. "But, my Lord - "
"I put my hand there," Angel said. "Not you. Don't think about my hand. Just think about moving. Can you do that for me, Wes?"
It seemed an exercise in meditation or torture. But either way the look of hope and encouragement in Angel's eyes served to melt away just enough of Wesley's fear. "Yes, my Lord."
Angel's smile was dazzling. "Good. Then move."
Wesley closed his eyes. It was too much to have all of his senses stimulated at once. Instead he tried to clear his head, thinking only of the command. Move. Shift hips forward, then back, forward, then back. Do only that. Nothing else. Don't think of the hand, or the pleasure, or the feeling of -
"Don't get scared," Angel murmured. His lips were by Wesley's mouth again, teasing soft kisses out of him. "Don't think. Don't think about anything."
But thinking of *nothing* was impossible. Not when Angel himself was there to fill his mind, and his thoughts. And - God - a fingertip, there, against his ass and pressing in, finding its way so that back now brought sparks and jolts as much did forward and it was *wrong*. *Wrong*. He wasn't allowed, he wasn't permitted to do this.
"Just move," Angel told him. The hand around Wesley's cock remained perfectly still. "That's all you're doing. You're being good, and obedient."
Wesley felt moisture at his eyes. He didn't know if it was tears or sweat. Regardless, he kept them tightly closed, his hands clutching at the pillows behind Angel now, as though his grip could somehow hurt the vampire. He bit into his lower lip and kept moving. Obeying his husband, his master. A spouse must be obedient. He must do everything his husband tells him. He must be dutiful, and mindful, and -
"*Oh*," Wesley gasped, as he felt electric shocks dance over his skin.
"Don't stop," Angel told him.
Spouses must obey. Wesley kept moving, feeling himself fall over the line between protocol and desire as his body woke up, coming alive as only Angel seemed to make it do, as though this - *yes* - was what it was built for, what each *cell* was made to do and feel and oh - so wonderful, so delightful, so dizzying, so perfect, so - so - *so* -
Wesley gasped, then gasped again, then hiccupped as the air in his lungs and the waves of ecstasy going through him collided and went straight to his head in a rush.
"Perfect, huh?" Angel asked, nuzzling Wesley's cheek as he slowly calmed down.
Wesley hadn't known he was speaking aloud, but he didn't care now that he was aware of it. "Yes, my Lord. My Angel."
"So are you," Angel told him.
Wesley wanted to dispute that. But there, wrapped in the safety of the vampire's arms, he thought that maybe, just in this one circumstance, it might possibly be allowed to be true.
***
There was erstwhile cleanup. Then eating. Angel pressed chocolate on him, and marshmallows, then watched carefully as they toasted the white treats over the fire. Then cookies were produced and the gooey concoction was turned into sandwiches.
"I feel certain this isn't how these are made," Wesley said, as he tried to bite into a melting mess of white and brown and what had once been a chocolate chip cookie.
"Connor's invention," Angel said, having a surprising amount of luck with his own choice of shortbread. "Normally you'd use graham crackers."
Wesley watched him, taking in the details of Angel's chocolate-coated fingers, and the way his lips sucked in the burnt marshmallow when it came near. "Are we still playing our game? The role reversal?"
"If you want," Angel said. Then, with a rakish grin, added, "My Lord."
Wesley felt his insides twist at that, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. "Then I'd like to kiss you."
"That's a command I'm happy to obey," Angel told him.
The snacks were forgotten as Wesley crawled into Angel's lap and licked away every hint of sweetness that he could find on the vampire's body.
***
It was later, much later, when the illusion of their haven was snatched away.
"East checkpoint's been hit," Spike said, walking directly into the suite without any sort of preamble. His demeanor held no hints of his usual joking, or cockiness. Wesley found himself sobering at the sight of this.
Angel reacted much more quickly. He pulled the spare blanket off of the couch and threw it around Wesley, covering him up so that Spike could not see him out of his required clothing. "Wes, go into the bedroom and change."
Wesley hesitated. "My Lord, I could stay and help."
If the look on Spike's face had been sobering, the look on Angel's was positively terrifying. "Wes, do as you're told. Go in there and wait for me."
Wesley got to his feet at once. "Yes, my Lord."
He changed into what could be termed "working clothes". Tight-fitting sweater, durable slacks. No less beautiful than anything that he owned, but more practical for what he felt might be the tasks he was about to be given. That done, he waited, pacing as he tried to decide if he should make the attempt to predict Angel's needs, then finally sitting at the small table near the fire, his hands in his lap, his body in the perfect posture of readiness.
Angel came in soon after. He left the door open, which suggested that Spike was no longer outside.
"There's an organization called Wolfram & Hart," Angel explained, not breaking stride as he shucked his shirt and pants to the floor. "We're at war with them. Actually, we're at war with plenty of people. But right now they're the biggest."
"I had heard something about that, my Lord," Wesley said. He then dared assume that Angel would not *mind* him having knowledge. "They are an ancient entity. This current incarnation is only one of many."
"No kidding," Angel said. A button down shirt was shrugged on. Leather pants were slipped into. "They don't like me. They don't like any of this. They want all of this land to themselves and we're standing in their way."
"Now they are attacking you," Wesley guessed.
"Attacking, breaching, killing," Angel said. He opened up a trunk and pulled weapons out. Leather straps of some kind were buckled to his wrists. It took Wesley a moment to realize that stakes were attached to them. "They hit one of our checkpoints today and hit it hard. If we don't stop them, they're coming straight here."
"How far away, my Lord?" Wesley asked.
"Depends on how fast they work," Angel said. The wrist-stakes secured, he folded his shirt sleeves down over them, buttoning the cuffs. "In peacetime we'd get there in two weeks. Put a rush on it and they could be here any day."
Wesley stood up. "How may I serve, my Lord?"
Angel tossed a smile at him for that. "I *need* you to serve your Lord. This is the big time, Wes. I need you to do your job. I need a spouse, and a prince. I'm going out and there's no telling how long I'll be gone. Somebody has to be in charge here. That's going to be you."
"I'm happy to perform any job you ask of me, my Lord," Wesley said.
Angel pulled a sword out of its sheath, studying its blade critically. "You need to be in charge. You need to make sure everything gets done. Food, supplies, the works. This is going to be hard, Wes. We're in lockdown conditions. There's going to be people scared, and angry. Morale is going to be tough. I need you to stand up. Be the leader. Be *me*, since I can't be here to do it."
"I will do my best to honor you, my Lord," Wesley said.
Angel finally stopped and looked at him. "This isn't what I want. Not by a long shot. I wanted to acclimate you, and get you into the swing of things. Hell, *introduce* you to everybody so they'd even know who you were. Now this, and on top of what you were like this morning - "
"My Lord," Wesley said, keeping his voice steady, "this is my job. With due respect I remind my Lord that *this* is what I am trained to do. To be given difficult tasks under difficult circumstances is as much a part of what the Council prepares for me as anything else I have learned in order to serve you."
"Maybe, but I don't like it," Angel came over, putting his hands on Wesley's arms. "You okay? Seriously?"
"The problems of this morning have passed, if that is my Lord's question," Wesley said.
"What if they come back?" Angel asked. "You're here, on the floor, you can't even breathe - "
Wesley flinched, but didn't pull away. "My Lord, I *can* serve you."
Angel looked into his eyes for a long moment. "Okay. Trust goes both ways. I'll trust you can do this. Hell, I *know* you can do this. I believe in you, Wes. I know you won't let me down."
In spite of the circumstances, Wesley smiled. "I shall try not to fail you, my Lord."
Angel pressed a kiss to his forehead, then let him go. "I’m leaving Gunn behind. He got hurt in the last battle anyway. He knows all the technical details. If you've got a doubt about something, ask him."
"Yes, my Lord," Wesley promised.
"Communication won't be good," Angel said. "They've got spies and trackers like you won't believe. Willow can only do so much. It might be a while before you hear from me again."
Wesley felt the reawakening of fear. "How long do you think you'll be away, my Lord?"
Angel's expression became somber. "They're hitting us hard, Wes. To be honest, I really don't know."
"A true battle, then," Wesley realized.
Angel nodded. "A real war."
"I - " Wesley looked around, his lessons in this matter belatedly returning to him. "I should give you something. A memento, to inspire my Lord to succeed and return."
Angel caught Wesley's left hand, raising it to his lips so he could kiss the wedding ring on his finger. "You already did."
Wesley curled his fingers around Angel's hand. His lungs felt tight. "My Lord - "
"I'll come back," Angel promised.
"I'll be miserable without you, my Lord," Wesley said, the trained words falling automatically out of his lips. Then, surprised, he whispered, "I *will*."
"I come home," Angel reassured him. He leaned in, pressing a long, slow kiss to Wesley's mouth. "I promise. I won't stop protecting you."
There were more trained words and speeches. But Wesley dismissed all of them and spoke the only ones that mattered. "Be *safe*, my Lord."
"Do my best," Angel said.
They shared one last kiss, then Angel was gone.