Title: Second Chances

Author: Jae Kayelle

Email: bcunningham@sk.sympatico.ca

Rating: NC17

Pairing(s): Wes/Angel, Wes/Gunn, Angel/The Host

Spoilers: Most of AtS S2.

Summary: relationships change.

Archive: yes to list archives.

Disclaimer: 20th Century Fox and WB own the characters. Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt Productions and Lazy Dave Productions own the vision and intent. No copyright infringement intended.

Website: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Crater/7657/index.html

Feedback: yes, please.

Angel was good. Angel was good. Angel was good.

Perhaps if he repeated that phrase often enough, Wesley would actually believe it. It didn't matter that his boss and sometime lover was becoming broodier than anyone could recall seeing him, or that he was testier, and more aloof. It didn't matter that Angel never looked at him anymore when they made love. Not that they made love these days. More like wham, bam, thank you, Wesley. Without the thank you, Wesley part.

###############

"Ohgodohgod!" Wesley groaned as Angel pounded into him. The hard edge of the desk was bruising his thighs. Wes had his hand wrapped around his own cock, pumping along with the rough rhythm of Angel's thrusts. The vampire's leather coat covered them both. While Wesley's pants were down around his ankles, Angel hadn't bothered to undress even that much. Wes could feel the zipper scrape the sensitive skin of his buttocks with each stroke. It burned, though not nearly as much as the steel rod spearing him. Angel hadn't prepared Wesley. He'd simply begun kissing, harsh, biting kisses, and then stripping, until he had Wes where he wanted him, bent over the desk.

"Angel..." Wesley gasped. "Please... Take it easy."

But Angel continued to hammer into him until he shuddered, signalling his climax. Wesley felt the familiar coldness filling him, then spilling over and running down his thighs as soon as Angel pulled out. He left Wesley to finish himself off. Tears streaming down his cheeks, Wesley kept his back turned and stroked frantically until he, too, attained orgasm. Then, cleaning himself with the towel Angel had had the foresight to put within reach, he pulled his pants up and closed them.

Only then did he turn to face his lover.

Angel was gone.

##############

"And he never talks to me. At all."

"Yeah, right. Angel talking to anyone in a conversational way is not something I can wrap my brain around."

Wesley gave Gunn a sharp look.

Gunn leaned back in his chair and placed his foot on his knee. "You know I'm right."

Sighing heavily, Wes nodded. "I don't know what to do, Charles. He used to be...more pleasant to be around."

"Pleasant? That's the best you can come up with to describe your lover? How romantic. How sexy. How could anyone resist him?"

"Well, he is rather good looking...in a brooding sort of way."

"Yeah, yeah. All the girls go for that sort of guy. Tall, dark, handsome, and brooding."

"Here now! Are you implying that I...?"

Gunn got up, crossing the living room to sit next to Wesley on the couch. He spoke kindly. "No, Wes. I'm not implying anything. Look, I'm sorry. 'Kay? It's just that you deserve better than a vampire for a lover, especially one with a happiness expiration date stamped on him. Not that either of you is happy. Where's the fun in that, Wes?"

Wesley stared at the man sitting next to him. He shook his head.

"There is no fun," he said quietly.

"Man, that sucks."

"Yes, it does," Wes agreed miserably.

Gunn put his arm around him, applying gentle pressure until Wesley laid his head on Gunn's shoulder.

"He gave me a towel... to wipe my hands. Surely that counts for something?"

"Oh, man. Wes..."

"Yes, I know. How pathetic can I get?"

"You loved him, right? It's understandable in a pathetic sort of way."

"I think maybe I still do love him."

Gunn turned, his lips brushing the top of Wesley's head.

"He doesn't deserve you."

Wesley's hand began to play with a button on Gunn's shirt. He pushed it through the hole, and then did it up again. After a minute of staring at it, he undid it a second time and left it open. Gunn breathed. It was speeding up a bit at the moment, but he breathed. Angel didn't breathe. Being with Angel was like being with an animated dead fish, a cold, uncaring, dead fish. Heat rose up through the cotton of Gunn's shirt, comforting Wesley with his warmth where it touched his cheek and his shoulders. Angel wasn't warm.

Wesley slipped his fingers inside the shirt, touching smooth skin.

Gunn was better than warm. He was alive.

Capturing Wesley's lips with his own, Gunn teased them open with his tongue. With very little hesitation, Wesley let him in, hungrily returning the kiss. Then he wrenched away.

"No. I shouldn't."

"Don't tell me you're going to be faithful to Psycho Boy. Wes, look at me." He tilted the researcher's chin up. "You. Deserve. Better."

Wesley gazed back into the dark brown eyes then looked away.

"I owe it to Angel to tell him that I'm ending our relationship. Until then, I can't start another."

Gunn smiled. "You're one hell of an honourable dude, Wes. Go talk to Angel. I'll be waiting. When you come back, we can talk. Maybe do some fun stuff. It's all up to you."

##############

"Angel, we need to talk."

"Uh huh." The vampire wandered around his suite of rooms in the Hyperion, picking up books and leafing through them idly. Wesley watched him with growing exasperation.

"Angel, please. Listen to me!"

"You haven't said anything yet, Wesley."

"At least look at me!" Wesley wasn't sure where he found the strength for that command.

The vampire turned his head. The movement was normal. He could have been any man making an everyday human gesture, but at that moment, Wesley saw past the façade. This was no man. Angel might look like a thirty-year-old human male, but that was really all there was to the pretence. It was all on the surface.

Angel turned his head and Wes saw a stutter in reality. It was if he'd been given a gift of Sight. He was able to see under the surface. Certainly, he knew the truth already, but now he could actually see it. He could see the monster living inside the skin.

Bile rose in Wesley's throat, as he thought of all the times in the past few months Angel had belittled him, and abused him, made him feel unworthy of anything better. Wes bit back the thought that he was living his life in cycles. He couldn't face that particular revelation right now. One nightmare at a time.

"No more," he said aloud.

"What?" Angel didn't understand. Wesley had control of his own life again.

"I won't let you do that to me any more."

"You're not making sense, Wes." Angel's tone was mocking. It was something like what Wesley imagined Angelus might have sounded like. And, really, what was the difference between Angel in his present darkness, and Angelus? One had a soul and a conscience. The other had neither. Their behaviour otherwise was much the same with few exceptions.

"I am making a lot of sense. More than I have in a long, long while." Wesley shook his head slowly. "I was so stupid."

"Leave, Wes."

Their eyes locked. Wesley felt only pity for the man trapped inside the monster. He nodded once, then turned and walked out of the hotel.

"Leave while you can," Angel whispered after the door closed.

##############

When he unlocked the door of his apartment, he found Gunn sprawled on the couch fast asleep. Wesley's heart lurched in his chest at the sight of the man who wanted only good for him, waiting for him. Crossing over, he knelt beside the couch, his hand falling lightly on Gunn's chest. The young man startled awake.

"What's up?" he asked fuzzily. "Wes, you're home."

"Yes, Charles. I'm home." Wesley smiled broadly at the thought.

Gunn reached up to him. "C'mere."

Wesley stretched out on top of Gunn. They arranged themselves until they were comfortable. Wes laid his head on Charles's chest while Gunn wrapped his long arms around Wesley's back.

It took Wes a moment to identify the feeling he was experiencing. Then it came to him. It was happiness. It had been so long since he'd felt happy; he hadn't recognized it at first.

"Wes? Why're you crying? Unless you're drooling. Either way your getting' my shirt wet."

Lifting his head, Wesley smiled through his tears. "I'm happy," he said simply.

"Are all white men this strange?" Gunn grinned at him, pushing Wesley's head back down to the warm, yet damp spot on his chest.

"Just happy."

#################

Entering Caritas, Angel pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the table where The Host sat listening to a crudswal demon duo warble a scratchy version of "I Will Survive."

The Host looked up at him.

"Hello, darling. Hard day at the office?"

Angel merely stood silently, his shoulders hunched.

The ruby red eyes searched Angel's face. "Oh dear. I guess so." He stood up and gestured to one of his employees. Not a word passed between them but the Rosch nodded in understanding.

"Come with me, Handsome. It looks like you finally need my special treatment. Gorf will look after things while I'm gone."

Taking Angel's hand, he led him to the back of the club and up a flight of stairs. Angel went along unresistingly and in silence.

They entered an apartment that looked like the home of a demon that appreciated comfort. The Host said, "Tell me what happened." He perched on the arm of an overstuffed couch.

Angel remained standing in the centre of the room.

"Wesley left me."

"Did you make him leave?"

"I made him hate me."

"Why?"

"Because he was too dependent on me."

"Is that the only reason?"

"Wesley, Cordelia, and Gunn need to get on with their lives. They can't be near me."

"When?"

"When I go after Darla."

"Ah, yes. You're little sire. Are you planning to stake her?"

"I...yes."

"You don't sound too certain. Does she need to be staked?"

"Yes," more convincingly.

"Why haven't you done it yet? Surely you've had opportunities."

"Lots of them."

"So, why haven't you staked her yet?"

"I need to find the strength," Angel mumbled.

"And pushing your friends away will help you find the strength?"

"If I have to worry about them, I won't be as effective."

"So you more or less made them hate you."

"Wesley hates me."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Angel spun around to face The Host. "I don't feel anything."

"Well, that's a surprise," was the sarcastic reply. "Not that you don't feel, because I believe you do, you feel a lot. You feel their pain and that makes it your pain. The surprise is that you're still denying the truth."

The Host stood up and walked over to the vampire. He stood very close.

"Talk to yourself, Sweetheart. Tell yourself the truth."

Angel glanced away.

The Host put his hands on the sides of Angel's face. "Look at me. Tell yourself the truth," he repeated very slowly.

"I...feel sad that I've pushed them all away. I feel sick that I did those things to Wesley. He'll never forgive me."

"Perhaps not, but he will respect you when you tell him the truth. It's up to you when you choose to do that."

"What do I do now?"

"The age old question. Well, you can go back to that mausoleum of a hotel and brood. I'll bet you'd like that. It's something you're good at."

"Yeah," Angel said quietly.

"But you're not going to do that. Not this time."

"I'm not?"

"No. You're going to stay here and let me help you get over yourself." The Host went around behind Angel and removed the leather duster, drawing it off the vampire's shoulders and down over his arms. "Let's get you out of these clothes and into the bedroom."

"Why the bedroom?"

"If you prefer the couch I can go along with that, but it's easier to wash the sheets than clean the couch."

"You want to have sex with me?"

"Why not? You're gorgeous. I've wanted you since we first met, and believe me when I tell you that I knew I'd have you." He winked.

Angel hesitated.

"What's wrong? You don't like the colour of my hair?"

"Actually I like it. Those horns are kind of cute, too."

"So? You have a better offer tonight?"

"No."

The Host regarded him pityingly. "You still want Wesley?"

"Um, yeah."

"That's all right. I don't mind getting you on the rebound. You need comfort and a shoulder to cry on and hot, sweaty sex to take your mind off your troubles. I just want you. Tell me, where's the bad in that?"

Angel couldn't think of a thing to say in the face of that logic.

###############

"Not there, Charles. Please. I'm still sore."

"It's okay, baby. I won't hurt you. How about you come inside me? Will that work?"

Wes lifted his head and peered myopically over his shoulder at his new lover. Light from the street filtered through the gauzy curtains just enough so that he could make out Gunn's features.

"You'd let me do that?"

"Wes, we're in this together. Equal opportunities. Equal lovin'. When you're ready - if you're ready - you can tell me and we'll go from there. Okay?" He tickled Wesley's ribs, making the Englishman laugh out loud.

Wesley couldn't remember the last time he'd laugh during sex. He tried to voice his thoughts, struggling to speak over the lump in his throat.

"It's been so long," he whispered as Gunn lay down beside him on his stomach. "I have a choice."

"You'll always have a choice with me, Wes. Now you gonna hurry up and do something?"

Laughing, Wesley said, "Yes, Charles. I'm going to do something."

He took a moment to prepare himself and Charles, and then he eased inside in short, slow...

################

...and then he shoved inside in one long, hard stroke.

"Easy does it, Sailor! What's your rush? I'm not going anywhere."

Angel bowed his head until his hair touched the lean back muscles rippling under the emerald skin.

"Sorry."

"You better be. I'm not your punching bag, Mister. And you're not Angelus. You're Angel, the caped crusader. Well, sort of. You're the defender of the helpless. You're the good guy, Angel."

"I'll remember."

"I can tell you have a long way to go before you're ready to be loosed on the world again." The Host's playful tone was back.

Angel slid his hands down the long flanks until they cupped the firm buttocks, which held him tightly captive.

"Does that mean you're going to let me do this again?"

The Host wriggled deliciously. "And again until you get it right, and maybe a time or three after that just to be sure. You've got a lot to learn, Darling."

"And you're willing to teach me?"

"What do you say to that?"

"I have a lot to learn," Angel agreed. Carefully, he pulled most of the way back out, and eased back in.

"Gently. Gently. We'll work on that bridled passion of yours later."

Angel did as he was told. He wanted to get it right in case Wesley ever gave him a second chance. He wanted Wesley to give him that chance.

# end #