•••

After the doctor left, Gunn helped Angel carry Wil upstairs. Angel laid Wil out on the bed and went to find clean clothes for him. He’d need several towels also, since the first of the medicines had to be applied topically, after Wil was cleaned up.

The blonde looked even worse unclothed. He was little more than a mass of bruises, from head to toe. Angel reread the instructions on the first bottle. After he’d cleaned up Wil as best as he could, he opened the bottle and smeared a clear ointment all over his body. It glowed briefly before sinking into his skin and disappearing.

The second bottle was a pain medication, only to be used when the patient couldn’t sleep or function. Angel set that one aside and reached for the third bottle. The instructions on that bottle made him frown. It was to be given with blood; human was preferred and Sire’s blood was the best. He could get human blood, if he needed to, but if Sire’s blood would work better, well…

Angel looked at the bottle again. Somehow, he had to make Wil swallow the stuff. After a moment, Angel unbuttoned and pulled off his shirt, making his neck more accessible. He leaned over Wil and reached up, using one sharp nail to slice open his throat.

Wil immediately oriented on the blood he smelled. Angel leaned further down, touching Wil’s lips to the blood running down his skin. The blonde latched on and bit through Angel’s skin, puncturing the vein. After he’d taken in a few mouthfuls, Angel pulled away and poured some of the medicine into Wil’s mouth. The blonde grimaced but swallowed. Satisfied that he’d gotten some of the medicine into the blonde, Angel set it aside. It was supposed to be given one-sixth of the bottle at a time, once a day.

A glance at the fourth bottle told him that it was more of the same, giving him twelve days of this bone-setting medicine. That meant twelve days of feeling Wil at his throat. Even in an injury-induced sleep, Wil was an erotic creature. Maybe human blood wasn’t such a bad idea, Angel thought as he watched his child sleep. It would certainly do wonders for his sanity.

Angel readily admitted to himself that he’d been avoiding Wil. He knew that the vampire hadn’t been responsible for his son’s death, and had in fact done everything he could to prevent it. That didn’t dull the pain, though. It wasn’t so much that Connor was dead and that Wil might have stopped it, however. It was that Wil was still there for Angel.

Even in his pain, when Angel saw Wil he knew that there was someone who cared, who loved him no matter what. When Connor had been there, he had felt hope that maybe there would be two people who felt that unconditional love for him, that he could give that back to. But Connor was gone. Angel couldn’t help but think that it had been his own sins that had taken his son from him. After all, hadn’t Holtz’s madness been due to Angelus?

When Connor died, Angel wanted to die with him. But Wil wouldn’t let him. When Wil was there, Angel didn’t want to die, he wanted to live. But Connor was gone. How could he feel that way? The only thing Angel could do was drive Wil away from him. It hadn’t worked, though, because after just a few days Wil had begun to leave him his journal, letting Angel know how much Connor’s death had affected him. Angel never wrote much, not nearly as much as Wil himself did. What the vampires said to each other, though, was what Angel couldn’t stand to hear out loud.

But that journal was as close as anyone got to him. He spent his days and nights sleeping and crying. Had Cordelia not started bringing him blood, he would have starved to death. The injury of his charges, who he still felt responsible for despite his recent absence, pulled him forcibly out of his exile. He couldn’t ignore them; having one of their deaths on his soul on top of Connor’s would have destroyed him.

•••

Oz watched Xander as he turned gingerly on the bed. The werewolf was still worried about the young demon, despite the doctor’s reassurances. He hadn’t been so preoccupied, though, that he’d forgotten to ask the doctor something on his way out. No one, not even Xander, knew what he was. The doctor might, though, so Oz chanced asking him.

~~~~~

“What is he?” The doctor asked, confused. “You mean, you don’t know?”

Oz shook his head. “No one ever told him.”

“Oh.” The doctor thought a moment. “Well, from what I can tell, he’s a Raphe demon.”

“Thanks.” Oz showed the doctor out.

~~~~~

Now that Oz knew what Xander was, he wondered how to tell him. Raphe demons weren’t bad, not at all. According to the book he’d taken from the library, they were distantly related to antelope and were known for their speed, grace, and empathic skills. They weren’t much stronger than humans, though. That meant that Xander would have to watch getting into fights. His empathic skills had already made themselves known, but the others would have to be brought to the fore with training, now that they knew about them. However, none of that mattered while Xander was injured.

“Stop worrying,” Xander said weakly.

Oz jerked his head up. “What?”

“I can hear you worrying from over here. Stop it,” Xander repeated.

Oz walked over to the bed. “How do you feel?”

Xander tried to grin. “Like hell, how do you think? I’ve been beaten up by a bunch of ill-tempered demons, picked and pinched by a weird demon doctor, and my boyfriend’s brooding in the corner.”

Oz quirked an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

“Hey, you offered…didn’t you?” Xander said quietly. At least, he was pretty sure that Oz had been sending clear signals for a long time…he hoped he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Um, yeah,” Oz said slowly.

“Well then act like one and be nice to me. I hurt,” Xander whined.

Oz shrugged and kissed Xander on the forehead, ignoring the boy’s complaints. Once Xander had quieted, Oz curled up next to him, propping himself up on one arm. “I asked the doctor what you were.”

Xander tried to look over, but winced. “Ah. And what am I?”

“Raphe,” Oz said. “I’ve got a book. You can read it tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok. One question, though. Do I have to drink blood?” Xander asked lightly.

“Nope. No blood,” Oz said. He didn’t mention that Raphe seemed to have a taste for leafy greens and insects, though. That might bother Xander a little bit.

•••

Wesley, like Lorne, was much improved the next day. Fred was amazed at how quickly he recovered.

“Speed-healing must be a characteristic of every demon,” Fred commented as Wesley strutted into the office from the library, looking for all the world like he’d spent the day at a museum instead of being beaten up.

“Not Raphe demons, obviously,” Xander muttered from the doorway.

“Raphe demons? No, they’re not exactly known for that, although they’re better off than humans,” Wesley replied. “Why?”

“’Cause I am one, apparently,” Xander said. “At least, that’s what the doctor said.”

“Oh. Well, I wonder when you’ll…” Wesley started.

“I’ll what?” Xander asked, frowning at the Watcher.

Wesley shifted on his hoofs. “Well, Raphe demons usually have these striped markings, but you’ve not developed any over the past six months.”

“He’ll develop them later,” Oz said. He walked in around Xander and placed a book on the desk. “After that, he can make them invisible.”

“Really? When will they come in? Will I look funny?” Xander asked quickly. He stepped toward Oz but weaved a bit, still wonky from the concussion.

Oz grabbed him and swung him into a chair. “Um…it’ll be a bit later, Xander. Don’t worry. And the pictures don’t look bad.”

Xander nodded but frowned. He could tell that Oz wasn’t saying everything. He’d ask about it later. “How’s Wil?”

Fred shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure Angel’s with him, though. Cordelia and Gunn aren’t up yet, I don’t think.”

“I doubt they will be. Cordelia looked pretty tired when we went to bed,” Xander said. “Not that I wasn’t or anything.”

“Do you think I should take something up to Angel and Wil?” Fred asked Wesley. “They’ve been up there a long time.”

Wesley nodded. “It’s probably a good idea, Fred.”

The young woman left to warm up some blood for the vampires. “So, boss, what are we going to do about the Hauk demons?” Xander asked.

Wesley sat down behind the desk. “You mean Wolfram & Hart? I don’t know. They’re getting more aggressive, making bigger plays. It’s as though they know we’re not at our best and are playing with us.”

Oz nodded. He’d noticed that lately the challenges had gotten harder and harder, and it wasn’t just a reflection of not having Angel around. Still, he had no idea what to do about it.

•••

Angel answered Fred’s knock, opening the door just enough to take the blood from her. He shut the door before she could ask him anything, leaving her standing in the hallway, confused and wondering why Angel wasn’t wearing a shirt.

He carried the tray over to the bedside, placing the tray on the night stand before sitting down in a chair he’d placed there. Angel slowly drank all the blood Fred had brought, watching Wil lay motionless on the bed.

Once he’d fed, Angel got up and went over to Wil. It was too early for the medicine, but Wil needed to feed; regular feeding would help him heal. As he had before, Angel slit open his throat and bared it to his childe, who latched on instinctively and drew deeply of his Sire’s blood.

Just like last time, ecstasy raced through Angel’s veins as Wil drank from him. The sensation frightened him; he was as powerless in Wil’s grip as any victim would be, aching for the vampire to take one more sip, to draw out the pleasure for one more second. Finally, though, he pulled away, wiping clean Wil’s stained lips and his own neck.

Angel settled back into his chair and continued his new ritual of watching Wil recover. He was determined to be there for his childe, no matter what it took. The last time Wil, or rather Spike, had been so severely injured, he’d laughed and taunted his childe, making his recovery a hell. Of course, he’d been Angelus at the time, but it didn’t matter. Angelus had, at one time, felt passion toward Spike that could reasonably be compared to what Angel felt for Wil. Had it been love? He wasn’t sure that Angelus could feel that emotion, even if Spike could. But he did know that the soulless version of himself had felt strongly for Spike. The Slayer-obsessed madness that Angelus had felt had blinded him to the needless suffering he’d caused his favorite childe.

He couldn’t help but see parallels with what had happened before. Spike, or Wil, would stick his neck out when his loved ones were hurting, and then get overwhelmed and suffer in consequence. His lovely childe had far too big a heart. Wil’s indentured servitude to The Powers That Be didn’t require that he take care of Angel, or any of the others. He just needed Xander’s visions and his own strength.

Wil’s absolute love for him was a heavy burden for Angel to bear, although he knew it shouldn’t be. But how could he return it, when every time something happened, he shoved Wil away? He’d done it a century before, when he’d gotten his soul. He could have returned to Wil then, and risked the chance that the vampire would have rejected him. He hadn’t, though, and he knew it had wounded Wil deeply.

Then he shoved Wil aside in his grief for Connor. The blonde was the only one of their group who had any idea of what he was going through, and he’d pushed him away, accusing him of helping in the death of his son. Looking back on it, Angel grew disgusted with himself. He was little better than the hypocritical lawyers he fought against.

•••

Wil watched as the ceiling swam before his eyes. The first thought he grasped onto was that he was, in fact, alive. He knew this because he was in incredible pain. The only thing that didn’t hurt was his hair, and he was sure that it didn’t hurt only because he couldn’t move it. With a little effort, Wil found that he could turn his head. Looking to the left, he saw Angel staring out into nothing. “Angel?” He couldn’t believe that his Sire was anywhere near him.

Angel jumped and nearly fell out of his chair. “Wil?” He stood up and rushed over to the blonde. It had been almost three whole days since the attack and Wil hadn’t shown any sign of consciousness in all that time.

Wil smiled weakly. “How’s Wesley?”

“He’s fine. They’re all fine and mostly recovered,” Angel said. “You need to rest. Are you hungry?”

Wil nodded weakly. He was so ravenous he figured that pig’s blood would actually taste good right now. He wasn’t expecting Angel to pull down the neck of his shirt and bare his throat, however. “Angel…”

“Drink, childe. It’s the best thing, and you know it,” Angel said calmly. Still, Wil hesitated. Finally, Angel used a fingernail to rip open the skin. The tantalizing smell of blood drew Wil and he bit into Angel’s neck.

Wil moaned as hot blood poured into his mouth. The taste and scent of Angel’s blood was like the finest wine, intoxicating and delightful. He could taste Angel’s worry, his sadness, and his growing excitement as Wil’s bite seduced him. He reluctantly released Angel’s flesh when he heard the dark vampire moan. It wouldn’t do to take too much.

Angel pulled back, wishing that Wil had continued. He reached for the bottle of medicine and pressed it to Wil’s lips. “Drink.”

Wil grimaced but did so, making faces at the medicine. Angel recapped the bottle and pulled the covers back up to Wil’s neck. “Rest now, Wil.”

“Why?” Wil asked, watching Angel shuffle around the room.

Angel turned back to Wil. “You’re my childe, Wil, and my heart. I couldn’t not do it.”

Wil looked confused. “But…”

“I…was in a lot of pain, Wil. I still am, actually. I know I was wrong to do what I did, but I couldn’t…” Angel said, drifting off.

“It’s ok,” Wil replied, his voice slurred. The medicine was making him sleepy.

“Rest, childe,” Angel murmured, watching Wil drift off to sleep. They would have more time to talk later.

Once Wil was sound asleep, Angel kicked his shoes off and curled up next to him on the bed. The chair just wasn’t meant for sleeping and Angel needed some shut-eye himself.