Author’s notes
Rating: PG
Summary: General Angel story. No particular pairings.
Spoilers: Hits very sparingly on S4.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, and no profit is made.

Part One: Angels Don't Die
The sword had dulled.
He stared at it blankly. Although its beauty surpassed anything he’d ever laid eyes on, the engravings clear and flawless, the blade wickedly sharp; it had dulled.
He blinked his eyes slowly, his mind taking him back to the last battle. She’d fought well. He wasn’t surprised; she always fought well. Afterwards her eyes would flick towards him, ready smile, wicked glint there as always. A few smart words, and a nod, then she would be gone “to that place in the sky” as she put it.
They’d met Uriel many months before. Their own Guardian Angel. Always there when things seemed dire- when they felt that this was it, she always turned up in a flash of blinding light, decimating, destroying all in their path.
“Like I haven’t anything better to do than save your ass, Angel!” she’d smirk playfully, stroking her sword like a well-loved pet. That sword; he’d feel the same about a possession like that. It glowed and whined in her hand, almost trembling with pleasure, it seemed.
Lucky damn sword: the words flew through his mind, and he stopped, wondering where they come from.
Warriors together, she’d said. To the end, he’d said. Shaking her head firmly, she smiled wide.
“Never the end, warrior!”

Until today.

He remembered bits and pieces, the ever ready smile, the light punches on his arm; the hugs given to them all at one stage or another. He once asked her why she came. Again the smile; more wry that time.
“They decided you could do with a little help, bucko! Some woman power!” she smirked playfully, nudging his arm gently.
Gently. Her strength far exceeded any one- thing he’d ever come across, and he marvelled at her restraint. Her arms gently enfolding Cordy when all just seemed too much. The light comaderie she had with Gunn. The way Fred’s eyes would light up when they discussed subjects the rest could only wonder at. Wes, who took a while to settle back in, spent many an hour with Uri, talking deeply. He always seemed lighter, more relaxed afterwards, as she disappeared in her trademark flash of light.
“Our little She-Angel!” Lorne would utter, softly. The friendship deep in his eyes. He’d known her longest, though he wouldn’t say HOW long. He talked about the ‘good old days’ at Caritas-“Before it was trashed of course, angel cakes” glaring light-heartedly at them all.
“Oh she sang like an Angel-D’uh! As Cordy would say; of course she did!”
Uriel first appeared to them a few weeks after Cordy arrived; lost and lonely, making mistakes the old Cordy just wouldn’t consider. After time, her presence and love healed them all; even Connor. Angel did a lot of soul searching through that period of time.
The gang had been at the pinnacle of self-destruction, and she’d come like a soothing balm. Bridging gaps that seemed impassable. He made his peace with Wes, and that was good. Also with Cordy. Sorted out his feelings, and realised friendship was more important than anything. Connor took a little longer, but they’d got there, after many a night of training.

Things had been going so well. His mouth twisted bitterly...

“Do Archangels die?”
Everyone turned to face Uriel and Fred, shock on their faces.
“Fred!” Angel blurted out. Uriel shook her head; a little smile graced her lips as she leaned back.
“Hmmm…now that’s a hard one!” she looked up, staring towards the ceiling.
“What’s hard about it? Connor moved forward, frowning.
A glance shot between The Angel and the Host; so quick that Angel almost missed it; almost.
“Well…I’ve been around a long time…and I’m still here! So no, we don’t!”
She finished, rising to her feet and reaching for her helmet. Uriel was always in battle dress.
“Always ready to fight the good fight!” She’d quipped lightly.
As he walked past Lorne’s room, he heard voices. This was nothing new; The Host always had visitors- but he paused when he recognised the feminine voice; Uriel.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he stopped right outside the door, and eavesdropped- not hard for a vampire.
“Are you sure about this, Lorne? It’s a lot to take on, you know-almost veg and all that-“
“Sweet cheeks! How could you even think otherwise!”? Lorne cut in, almost sounding hurt. “We’ve been friends for too long to throw that at me!”
Uriel had sighed heavily. Silence hit the room for a stretched moment.
“I know, Lorne. But when I think about it, it makes me crawl inside. So much to deal and all that.”
“It’s decided, Uri, so don’t worry that fluffy little head of yours- besides! Like that’s gonna happen any time soon!”
“Better prepared than sorry, friend” Uriel’s voice sounded lighter. The conversation then turned to Lorne’s plans for his club.

He cornered Lorne shortly after Uriel had gone.
“You were listenening?!” Lorne looked outraged; and slightly nervous. Angel’s Spidey senses kicked in at that.
“Regardless of that,erm…” “nosiness!” Angel glared at Lorne.
“Well- that’s not the point here! What the hell’s going on? With Uriel? Spill, Lorne!”
Angel put on his best glowery face. He meant business. Lorne threw his head back in annoyance before turning to throw himself into a chair.
“Look, Uriel was just being… Even Angels get fatalistic sometime, honey muffin! Hell, they spend eternity fighting, protecting- did I mention fighting? ”
He blew out a breath harshly.
“She worries about us. Worries she wont always be around-“
Angel strode forward, stopping a foot from the green demon.
“Are you saying- hold on a minute! She said it herself; angels don’t die! Is this what its about?”
Lorne stared at his friend sadly. Angel’s attachment to Uriel was obvious. Geez! Did he have to get all gooey over every bit of honey he met? But then again, it WAS Uriel. What a delicious confectionary- and could she fight! Angel wasn’t the first; and undoubtedly the last, to notice her plentiful charms.
“Uri …twisted the truth a teensy bit there. Angels are lost too-“ he stopped at Angel’s indrawn breath.
Watching the vampire pace the room for a few moments, he thought through what he’d have to say. Angel stopped abruptly, facing him.
“So what was that chat about?”
Lorne picked at imaginary lint on his purple trousers. What to say…
“She wanted me to promise…to keep you lot together-just in case. I said you’d done fine before she showed up…yeah, almost!” at Angel’s raised brow.
“Has she had some kind of…warning?” almost whispered.
Lorne rose to his feet, slapping Angel jovially on the back.
“Angel cakes! No! It’s just…you know, the death convo earlier made her think about it. You worry too much!”
Lorne whistled as he made his way to the exit. The epitome of casualness.
But Angel worried.

He watched Uriel closely after that. Tried to read into every conversation. She seemed unaware of it, relaxed, and eventually he relaxed too.

Angel refocused his eyes on the sword, affixed in place on the wall in the foyer. So dull... The last few hours replayed in his head.

It was just a simple, routine fight.
A couple of vampires; nothing strange. It went well, he thought, as he cut through the allies to make his way home. Then he heard it. The clang of metal against metal. Grunting. He ran towards the sounds. Turning the corner he stopped abruptly at the sight before him.
Half a dozen demons he didn’t recognise sprawled on the ground, vacant eyes staring at the sky, and a bit further on, four more fighting one person.
Uriel.
Her swordsmanship was unsurpassed, a pleasure a warrior would never get tired of watching. But something was different. When her back turned to him, he noticed something entirely new.
Blood.
Her blood. Rich and the deepest red. The smell so unlike anything he’d ever come across. It seeped heavily through the ragged gash in her armour, dripping down her back. She faltered. He gasped in shock.
She never faltered. He ran forward, attacking blindly. In minutes one, then two joined the others on the ground. He grabbed another. Sweat poured as he fought. The demons were strong. The swift crack of bone and the second to last demon fell on his face. He turned towards the one left fighting Uriel, and reeled.
The scene before his eyes froze his borrowed blood. Burnt into his memory. The last demon leaned forward, his lips drawn back in a victorious snarl. Both hands gripping the black sword as he put his full weight on it.
Uriel lay on the ground, her sword out of reach, her bloodied hands holding onto the shaft of the demon’s weapon, whose point was obscured, deep within her chest.
Angel roared, face morphing, launching towards the demon, pushing him off her. Blindly he ripped out the thing’s throat, throwing it to the side as he crouched over the still figure on the ground.
The sword still pierced her chest. Her hands were weakly trying to pull it out. Angel gripped and pulled, cringing at the slithering sound it made as it slid from her body. Uriel stared into his eyes for a long moment. Sadness crept in her gaze as he pushed his hands over her wound, trying to pause the life the flowed out.
“Angels don’t die, remember?” he almost begged her to answer.
She smiled softly, reaching out a shaking hand to his cheek.
The tears dripped from his face as he watched the violet eyes slowly grow dull and lifeless.
Then she was gone.
The vampire roared into the night…

The sword was dull. Like her eyes.
But the beauty still poured out.

He’d finally stood, noticing he was alone. No demons. No Uriel. He turned to go, but something caught his eye. Her sword, it whined like a child shimmering in the dark like a precious jewel. Slowly he reached down, wrapping his hands around the handle, and held it up in front of him. As he turned the blade numbly, he heard the gentle whine fade, and saw the glowing metal dim.
Angels don’t die.
Angels don’t die.

Part Two: Picking up the Pieces
It wasn’t easy. The tears, recriminations. The absolute waste.
But they pulled together.
Quietly.
The events unspoken, too painful to discuss. Would anything be the same again? How many times had they thought that? It wasn’t the first; wouldn’t be the last time. It didn’t make it any easier to bear though.
Cordy seemed listless, which was odd in itself. Always the one to smile her trademark 1000 watt smile, and come out with real doozeys that had everyone on the verge of laughter. She continued her usual duties.
Fred scrawled in her notebooks feverishly, muttering to herself quietly. Occasionally crossing out lines of writing, shaking her head in annoyance. Not as chirrupy as usual.
Gunn practiced. Each weapon removed and constantly tested, played out to its limits. But still not good enough. Did he have what it took any more?
Wes hid behind his old volumes, constantly reading, forever jotting notes. The waste bin beside him spewing out discarded paper.
Angel paced, waiting for the next vision, impatient to lose himself in the mindless violence of killing something.
All avoided glancing at the dull sword gracing the wall. Dust feathered its handle and blade. Only a fortnight had passed, but Angel hadn’t looked at it since he placed it there, that morning he wanted to wipe from his mind.
Lorne was nowhere to be seen; but they were used to that now. He always seemed to be in a hurry. A hurry to get to his rooms, a hurry to leave the hotel. In no hurry to join the others in the oppressive silence of the foyer. Whenever he was addressed, he would avoid the eyes of those speaking to him, looking over the shoulder, down at his feet- anywhere but at them.
Although the atmosphere was tense, they unquestionably clung together. They would get over this. Hell, not the first time they’d lost a friend. Not the last; but all hoping like that hell, that it couldn’t possibly happen again!

Cordy came down, stretching her arms. Trying to throw out the kinks in her back. Fitful nights not helping here. Angel and Wes were by the front desk, looking through one of the many old books that graced the hotel. Their voices quiet, to the point. Fred and Gunn were nowhere in sight.
Cordy couldn’t blame them for finding excuses to run on one errand or another. The place was stifling sometimes, since…
Her eyes were drawn to the resting place of the sword. HER sword. She hadn’t looked at it since that last morning.

She’d come down to find Angel just…standing in front of it.
She didn’t realise what it was – whose, not at first. Why should she? It never left HER side, so why would she recognise it? It just looked like an everyday kill ‘em weapon (Angel had many of those in the cabinet). She was surprised he hadn’t cleaned it up first, though; He was pretty anal like that usually. She’d actually muttered that to him as she drew level, but he hadn’t answered.
Just kept staring at that sword.
Then she noticed the blood. It covered his shirt, his face smeared with it. And amid that, she could make out separate blobs along his cheek, almost like…
Fingerprints.
“Angel?” whispered fearfully.
She again glanced at the sword. She KNEW it.
The delicate engravings, the pearlized handle, the soft gold of the blade. Her breath caught in her throat. Only partially aware of the others joining them. They all recognised the sword now. Realised the implication. But no one said a word. They waited, hope in their eyes. Finally Angel spoke, haltingly. The hope quashed like a bug on a windowpane…

Cordy approached the sword quietly. It was time to lay a few ghosts to rest. Her mouth quirked humorously at that; Dennis really wouldn’t appreciate that particular phrase.
She noticed the dust. And her heart broke.
They’d spent so much time avoiding this part of the room, even with their eyes; and left her memory to gather dust, like junk thrown and forgotten in the attic. Angel had placed it there, to remind them – then hadn’t been able to look at it since.
“If only I’d got there earlier. I should have BEEN there! She was always there for us!” Cordy could still hear his self-damning words.
They’d moved forward like a wave, but he’d backed away and charged swiftly to his rooms. They hadn’t seen him for a few days; but they knew he was physically okay. The quiet opening of his door as soon as night fell; the closing just before dawn.

Cordy took a deep breath, and then slowly reached out a tentative hand. Her fingers prepared to grip the handle, when-
“DON’T!”
She froze for a split second, before spinning towards the voice. Lorne halfway down the stairs, his eyes wide with dread. His hand flung forward.
“Don’t touch it!”
Angel and Wes had turned at the first cry. Faces stunned. Neither moving…
Lorne hadn’t said a word about it. Not even on that morning. In fact, Cordy had had to go up knocking on his door. He’d taken his time answering it, then stepped into the hallway, quickly closing the door behind him.
He knew. She hadn’t had to say a word; he just drew her into his arms and let her sob. A consoling hand patted her back. But he hadn’t said one word. Afterwards, she’s pulled away and looked at the floor. Lorne just opened his door and closed it quietly. She heard the lock click behind him…
“What the hell!” Angel finally moved forward, glancing over to Cordy, and then resting his bewildered eyes on Lorne.
“I-I- it’s dusty. I just wanted to-”
Lorne took a deep, calming breath; raking the hand he’d flung out through his hair.
“I’m sorry honey bun!”
Cordy swallowed the lump in her throat at the endearment; it had been a while. He continued down the stairs, and then sat down heavily on the second to last step.
“Lorne?” Angel allowed himself to relax slightly, face quietly questioning.
“Okay; owe you an explanation-before you think I’ve turned into a possessivo demon!” his light tone strained.
“Her-The sword…” he sighed heavily.
“The sword was created for one being. Has a life of it’s own, you could say- which is good; wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands. Cordy...if you had touched it-”
He gulped, his face turning a darker shade of green.
“Well, let’s just say, we would be cleaning you out of here with a dust-buster. No-one can touch it except U- the being it was created for”
Cordy sagged in shock. Dear God! Doesn’t anyone Communicate here?
“I touched it. A lot.”
All eyes turned towards Angel. He held out his arms, glancing down his body, before fixing his eyes back on the host.
“Still in one piece.”
“That was different.” Eyebrows rose enquiringly.
“What? She passed the sword on to me?”
Lorne rubbed his face tiredly.
“Not the sword, no” he muttered, before standing up and folding his arms. “The sword allowed you to hold it this time. It’s a once in a lifetime deal, not to be repeated, angel cakes.”
The obvious question hung silently in the air around them.
“The sword chose to be here. End of story.”
With that, Lorne turned and walked slowly back up the stairs.

Part Three: Empty Places
Angel lifted his head abruptly.
As quiet as it was, he heard it. A trembling whine, like a chime by an open window. Glancing around, checking to see if maybe one of the girls had added some when he was sleeping, he came back empty. No chimes.
He must have imagined it. His head dropped back to the book he was reading- trying to read, more like! Trying to go back to some semblance of normality. He smirked humorously; normality! Yeah, we have a lot of that around here.
He heard it again.
Unerringly, his eyes drifted to the far wall. To the sword. Nothing. Yet…
He rose from his seat, and made his way over, until he stood a few feet away. It still hurt to look at it. Memories he just didn’t WANT to stir up…. stir…
That was it! The dust that clung to the weapon was almost gone. He could see swirls of it drifting below. Must have a draft, he surmised, turning away- then turning back just as quickly. He definitely heard it that time. The whine.
It came from the sword. Almost imperceptible. A sorrowful sound.
Could this object mourn? He wondered. Join the queue, his mouth turned down. Then he shook his head. Lack of sleep was causing him to hallucinate.
Footsteps on the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder, straightening up on noticing Lorne’s hurried gait. Angel was sure The Host avoided his eyes as he hesitated for a split second, before striding towards the entrance.
“Angel. Places to go.” He muttered half cheerily as he swept out of the hotel.
Angel had to stop himself from following- not a good idea with all that sunshine out there. There were still many questions he had for his demon friend. Things said too lightly, deeper meanings that needed to be eked out.
One last look towards the sword, another attempt at reading aborted, so Angel reluctantly made his way to his room. Sleep. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could accomplish that.
“Plenty of heavy objects around” he muttered as he went.
He passed Lorne’s room, and then paused. Everyone had noticed how The Host spent so much time there since… That was understandable; he’d known Uriel a lot longer than they. But that wasn’t what caused that edge of discomfort. Lorne locked his room. Fair enough. Privacy. But when he was IN there?
Angel’s head felt fit to burst with all the things that could be wrong. The others had talked about his strange behaviour once or twice. The word ‘alcoholic’ tumbled into the arena a few times. But Lorne never hid the fact that he would bathe in Sea Breezes if given the chance. No…it wasn’t that. It was something else-
And at that moment, Angel decided to find out.
With a silent apology to Lorne for doing it, he forced the lock. He managed to accomplish this with the minimal of noise. Glancing up and down the hall, he eased the door slightly ajar and slipped in. Closing it quietly behind him, he turned to face the room- and froze.

A scattering of lamps arrayed the room, tastefully shaded. An incense stick coloured the air with the soft heady scent of honeysuckle. And on the bed, legs crossed, plush bear held tightly in her arms, sat… Uriel.
He’d know that rich deep red hair anywhere. Always wondered what it would look like free from the tight braid she’d always kept it in.
Now he knew. It draped her body like a cloak, tucked carelessly behind her ear. Half covering the dark blue satin pyjamas she wore. It seemed…odd not to see her in battle dress. Looking tousled like a young girl shortly awakened.
She didn’t react to his harshly drawn breath. Didn’t even glance at him when he whispered her name. Just continued to look down at the soft pink bear she stroked as gently as a much-loved pet…
He shook himself, trying to stop the quivering of his insides before walking silently over to stand in front of her.
“Uriel? Uri?” He spoke, his voice rising slightly.
Still she didn’t look up.
Slowly he reached out and cupped her chin, lifting her face to his. Oh God! It was she. He trembled as her eyes lifted to meet his. Then his soul tore to shreds.
Not lifeless, dull… But clear and fresh as dew-covered violets. And as innocent as a newborn babe’s. No recognition. Nothing. She shifted slightly, again looking down towards the bear, her mouth tilting into a soft smile as she continued her ministrations.
“Sweet Mother of God! Angel!”
Angel dragged his gaze away from Uriel, and turned to glare at the green demon whose dread oozed out of his red eyes…

Part Four: Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Before he realised, Angel had the green demon pinned to the door just recently re-opened. Rage blinded him, almost missing the plea for breath… Almost.
Pulling together the last reserves of control, Angel let him go. Lorne slumped to the floor, his breath wheezing uncomfortably. His eyes flicked towards the figure on the bed.
Angel cursed silently. In his rage he’d temporarily forgotten her presence. No change. Uriel continued to stroke the bear soothingly.
“Answers” Angel’s eyes swivelled back to Lorne, who slowly lifted himself to his feet.
“She made me promise.”
Silence.
“She wouldn’t have wanted you to see her like this, Angel.” He waved towards the bed. As he did, Uriel looked up, then smiled happily, seemingly aware of the demon’s presence.
“Like what, Lorne?” Angel asked painfully. He could hazard a guess, but God, he wanted- no, needed to be wrong.
Lorne approached the bed, sitting beside Uriel, stroking her hair gently. His face rich with agony.
“Angel’s don’t die.”
Angel’s mouth thinned. Lorne continued.
“It’s a form of …balance, I suppose. Demons lose warriors. If The Powers didn’t, the balance would be skewiff! Like the laws of nature.”
Angel nodded slowly. Indicating for him to go on.
“As I said, Angels don’t die. They…become human; out of the picture for a lifetime, then are back in the fold.” Lorne rubbed his face for a moment before continuing. “Their memories are a thousand fold, their abilities far outweigh mortals-hell, even demons! They know so much!” Lorne paused, tucking hair behind the quiet girl’s ear. “There are a lot of humans like Uriel. Ex-Angels-in-waiting, you could say.” He sighed heavily. “But their knowledge is valuable. Demons would slaughter their own to snare a catch like that-an Angel in a frail, human body…”
Angel dropped into a nearby chair, his legs suddenly weak. He knew where this was leading. He didn’t really want to hear. But he needed to.
“The only way for the Powers That Be to protect themselves, is to make sure demons don’t have easy access to their strengths and weaknesses.”
“-So they wipe their minds and make them …crazy?” Angel finished abruptly.
Lorne shook his head.
“Not crazy! Just…the ultimate in repression. Once they come to the end of a human life span, it comes pouring back.”
It was Angel’s turn to drop his head into his hands. For a while, silence again pervaded the room.
“So that’s it then?”
Lorne shot a confused look towards the vampire.
“We just give up on her? Feed her, clothe her; keep her happy with- plush bears?”
Angel’s voice rose with each word, stopping abruptly when he caught Uriel’s eyes on him…really looking this time. He swallowed heavily. Her gaze was so searching, so...Uriel, that for a moment he was taken back to another happier time. Then the spell was broken as her eyes dropped back to the bear in her lap.
Lorne reached forward earnestly.
“You think that’s why she asked me to watch out for her; made sure she was sent to me when …” his eyes dropped too, for a moment. The flare of pain he’d seen glow in Angel’s eyes a little too much to bear.

Lorne. Who didn’t join the others when he’d returned, his disappearances, locking himself in his room?
The sword…
“She was here…. when I returned-she was already here.” Lorne nodded. “She made me promise, Angel.” He repeated quietly, desperately.
Angel doubled with the pain, torn between accepting, and tearing out the demon’s heart.
“The sword chose to be brought here.”
“There’s a chance…”
Angel looked up sharply at that.
“A chance? To bring her back? Make her remember?”
Lorne nodded uncertainly.
“Has it happened before?”
Lorne gulped, then shook his head. He lurched forward to grab Angels arm, as he shot up in anger.
“Listen Angel! This is a first! Angels are lost this way-but NOT ARCHANGELS!”
“She’s…one of the Seven! Do you have any idea how long she’s been around? Since the beginning of time. Can you even imagine how strong she is? -“
“Was, Lorne.”
Lorne lurched up, facing the angry vampire.
“There’s a chance, dammit! That this strength is just below the surface! And that chance is better than nothing!”
They confronted each other, the room bristling with tension. The tension vanished when they heard a soft whimper, faces turning to the figure now curled against the headboard, her violet eyes darkened as she returned their gaze.
“Maybe it is…” murmured Angel, hope flickering.

The others were still in shock. The immediate urge was to see her, but Angel baulked at that. HE wasn’t ready for them to see her. He needed time to get over it himself.
After soothing Uriel, and talking it out in a more civil manner, Angel insisted Uriel had her own room, stating that they both needed their own space, biting back the blind jealousy that crowded his mind at the thought of her being in Lorne’s rooms for so long already.
He could tell by Lorne’s expression that his emotions weren’t as well hidden as he’d have liked, seeing the hurt flickering in the demons eyes. He knew Lorne wouldn’t hurt her, but that didn’t mean he had to like the idea of such close proximity.
Later, Lorne discussed clothes with Cordy, hazarding a guess at Uriel’s size. Angel corrected him quietly. No one dared comment. Cordy held her hand out for Angel’s card, her eyebrow lifting briefly when the usual hesitation was absent. The jokes made in the past were left unsaid.
Cordy and Fred returned with bags, Angel pausing briefly before leading the way upstairs. He hovered for a moment, then backed out slowly, eyes averted from the grief visible on their faces.
Her eventual arrival in the foyer was not as bad as he thought it would be. The first meeting with Wes and Gunn. Who could have known (except Fred) how gentle Gunn could be.

As time went on, the tension and awkwardness melted away. Uriel wandered around the hotel quite happily, Angel finally reassured that she was safe enough to do so.
But it didn’t stop him from shadowing her most of the time. Once an obsessive, always one, he supposed.
Fred would prattle away, loving the audience she received in the smiling woman. Never looking bored, never asking inane questions. Though now and again, she would drift into silence, and her heart could be seen in her eyes as she watched her friend softly stroke the bear she carried with her always.
Wes told her wild and amazing stories; half hoping she heard every word. Wide smiles sometimes lighting up at the right times, him hoping it wasn’t just a coincidence.
She seemed entranced as she watched Gunn practice his swings and ducks, and he’d put more effort into it, like an actor in front of an avid audience.
Cordy painted her nails and played with her hair. Uriel sitting very still, allowing it.
One particular day, Connor bought her a prism, a wonderful smile breaking her face as she followed the colours.
Lorne sat and talked about his days, her hand snug in his. Angel would swallow bitter bile, finding something to occupy himself at those times.
…And she watched him. Every other time he checked, those violet eyes would be trained on him. Her gaze translucent. He found that the hardest to bear.

Part Five: Sing to me
Angel paused on the stairs. He thought he’d been the first down; he was wrong.
Uriel stood silently, staring. Staring at the wall. At the sword.
The sword, whined, shimmering gently as Uriel slowly moved closer to it. Her hand reached out. The whining rose slightly. She paused for a long moment. Angel held his breath. Some habits were hard to break.
Finally, her fingers touched the blade. The metal shimmered strongly for a second, abruptly losing its radiance when she dropped her hand and backed away. The whining became almost pathetic, begging as she continued to widen the gap.
He heard her mutter something.
“Ne meus-a….”
She drew in a sharp breath, and spun on her heel, rushing towards the stairs- barging into Angel’s hard body. Hands gripped the fabric of his shirt for a few seconds, before pulling away, darting past him, up and out of sight.
He stood there unmoving for what seemed to be hours…

“Are you sure those were her exact words?”
Angel let out an impatient breath.
“As sure as I can be Wes! She wasn’t that clear, and the shock thing didn’t help!”
He still couldn’t believe Uriel had spoken at all; Latin even more surprising.
“It shouldn’t be, Angel; considering how long she’s actually been around, it was probably one of her first languages”
He hadn’t realised he’d spoken aloud.
“Generally speaking, she said something along the lines of “no longer mine.”
“I thought more of: “not belonging to me- but let’s not quibble,” Angel added quickly. He was in no mood to argue the point.
Several hours passed before Uriel reappeared. The frightened gaze replaced with the usual calm emptiness. He’d preferred the fear. That emotion was better than none. He could still feel her fingers entwined in his shirt, the heavy rush of her beating heart.
He leaned against the desk, and quietly watched her. Bear still held closely to her body, head resting against the back of the loveseat. Relaxed.
If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he would have missed the furtive glances she threw at he sword; see her swallow convulsively as he heard the telltale whine of it, just loud enough for him-and her, to hear.
He puzzled about that. No one else seemed aware of the sound. Yet Uriel, ‘blessed’ with human hearing…
Maybe Lorne was right.

The day picked up considerably. Good or bad not decided yet.
The attack was unexpected. Four demons crashed through the doors of the hotel. Only himself and Wes in the foyer.
Within minutes one was dead, he fought two of them, Wes the other. Throwing one across the room, he concentrated on the remaining demon. He finally twisted its great head with a sickening crack, turning abruptly at the scream of rage behind him.
The other demon had picked itself up and raced over to sink its heavy axe into his unsuspecting back, but seemed frozen to the spot. They both looked down, staring at the blade protruding through its chest. It then disappeared, and the demon slid to the floor.
Angel’s eyes widened in amazement. Holding the offending sword stood Uriel.
Uriel. Holding her sword, looking as shocked as Angel.
“Dear Lord!”
At Wes’s outburst, Uriel dropped the sword, lurched around, and raced up the stairs. This time Angel followed…
Her room seemed deserted, but he could hear her racing heart. He followed the sound, and found her curled up between the wall and the bed.
“Uriel.”
No response.
There were two ways to deal with this, he thought- and he decided to ignore the first option. He reached down, grabbed her upper arms and pulled her upright.
She keened, leaning away from him. He held her closer. Gripping her around the waist with one hand, and moving the other towards her face, gripping her chin, turning her up towards him.
“Uri, baby, talk to me” he crooned.
Her eyes were frantic, staring into his. Then he felt her sliding into retreat.
No! Not again!
He panicked. So damn close.
Without thinking he covered her mouth with his own, kissing her desperately. She struggled. That was good. Struggling was good, he thought, and continued the onslaught.
He pulled away slightly to give her much needed air, then took her lips again. He forced her mouth open and slid his tongue into her mouth. God, she tasted so good. He started to lose himself in the sensation, hotly aware of her hesitant response.
The weeks of pain, the loss, and the despair of being, yet not, with Uriel came pouring out. He slid his lips to her jaw, allowing her again to draw breath. Placing open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Her hands clenched into his shirt, her body tense.
“Angel!”
He froze. The voice, so close to his ear, beautifully familiar. He drew his head back slightly, and looked into her eyes.
Violet eyes stared right back. Tears filled his when he saw the recognition. Her hand slid to his cheek, catching the flow with her fingertips. He dipped his head into her neck, and held her tight. Her arms slid around his shoulders and clasped his shaking body to hers.
Then her body went limp…

Part Six: The Good Old Days
He sat in the chair pulled next to her bed and watched her sleep. She’d been unconscious for twelve hours now. In those twelve hours he’d been jumping from fear to anger to helplessness, not knowing what to do. “That’s one major audit she’s got going there, angel cakes!” he’d wiped his brow dramatically.
“What do you mean?”
Lorne sat quietly for a moment.
“You could say she’s sifting through the files of her mind, trying to put some order to it, and cramming like a psyche student! And boy, does she have a library full!”
Standing up slowly, he patted Angel’s shoulder before walking to the door, pausing to add.
“Think of a Cravis demon hitching a ride on a Shetland pony to circle the Himalayas; be patient. Uriel needs to do this.”
He closed the door quietly behind him.

Angel jolted awake - annoyed with himself for nodding off. Almost a day had passed since her breakthrough. He started when he glanced over to the bed; Uriel leant against the headboard, quietly watching him.
“Uriel?..” Uncertainty coloured his voice.
“Still here,” she replied softly.
For a moment, her eyes shifted from his, discomfort apparent; bringing back the recent memory of the taste of her on his tongue. He mentally shook himself then leant forward.
“How are you feeling?”
“The truth? Weak, tired; incredibly thirsty, hungry - human!” she half smiled, a frown touching her brow. “Scary!”
Angel rose, hesitating, before settling down on the edge of the bed. Did he hug her; offer her a shoulder? Pat her on the back like a brother? Undecided, he twisted his hands together.
“Do you…remember much - about the last weeks?” he needed to know.
Uriel rubbed her eyes, giving herself a moment, before answering.
“Very blurry, a vague recollection of being…secure, I suppose – oh! And a pink bear! I remember that!” she grinned widely; almost herself for a moment.
Angel reached down the side of the bed, rescuing the discarded soft toy. He passed it to her. Holding it, she dropped her face, taking in the slightly bedraggled looking bundle of fluff.
“A bit of tough love going on there, I think!” she said, lifting amused eyes to his. She absently twisted the worn ears of the bear as her gaze became distant for a moment, before turning to face him, her eyes softening. “You kept my sword! I remember that. I could hear it singing to me sometimes…” Uriel sighed heavily, and then fidgeted uncomfortably. “Uh-oh! Humans have such a hard life…”
Angel raised a questioning brow.
“I think the words I’m looking for are, ‘I need to pee’!” she smirked when he shifted uncomfortably.
He indicated the bathroom, standing as she slipped out of bed.
“Do you need any…no, I guess not!” he mumbled, as her smirk deepened.
Angel flopped into the chair, and waited…then worried. What was taking so long? Had she collapsed again? As soon as the thought entered his head, he shot to his feet, turning towards the closed bathroom door.
As his fingers touched the handle, the door opened suddenly; Angel reached to steady Uriel, as she walked into him. One minute her hands were wrapped in his shirt, the next, she’d practically tore herself away, her head dipped out of sight.
“Sorry to take so long. Teeth brushing and all that!”
She spoke a little too loudly - realized the fact, then looked decidedly annoyed. With herself or him, he wasn’t sure.
Angel moved abruptly, when he realized he was blocking her way. Uriel eased past him carefully. The atmosphere was decidedly thick.She made for the bedroom door, opening it quickly.
“I can’t wait to see the others! They must think I’m such a bad guest-“
“Uriel!” he dropped his hand from her arm when she glanced down at it.
“Can we talk?” Uncertain. Cordy was right; he WAS a dork!
She sighed, looking into the hallway before answering.
“Give me time to - to sort out my head; please?” she stared at him, her eyes shadowed.
After a moment, he nodded. His expression clearly saying the conversation wasn’t finished. With a slight rush of breath, Uriel slipped out of the room.

After that day, he never caught her alone again. Always someone there, or trips out with the others - or hidden in her room, sleeping. He stood back, biding his time. His eyes always on her intently.
The others naturally noticed, trying to smooth over the awkwardness, noting Uriel’s obvious attempts to avoid being alone with him.
He stood at the desk, flicking through the diary, trying not to keep a watch on her movements, but failing miserably.
“Why don’t you just tell her, sweet cheeks?”
He jumped slightly. He had been so intent on her deep discussion with Wes, that he’d missed Lorne’s approach.
“Tell her what?” his words casual.
The host rolled his eyes dramatically.
“What everyone else already knows, that’s what!” He took a sip of his drink. “Déjà vu, Angel cakes. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”
Angel slammed the diary shut and headed for the kitchen. Lorne followed at a slower pace. He watched Angel open the fridge, reach in, pull out a bag of O pos, and turn to the microwave before speaking again.
“What have you got to lose? There’s no way you could blow it this time -well…” He thought for a moment. “Quite a few ways- but let’s be positive here!”
“Lorne, I think we’ve established that I don’t do relationships! So…just give it up, okay?” Angel tore open the bag savagely, pouring the contents into a mug. Practically throwing it into the microwave, he jabbed the buttons roughly.
Lorne winced, feeling sorry for the appliance.
“Remember when you asked if she’d given you the sword?”
Angel nodded, impatiently. What did this have to do with anything?
“Yeah; that she hadn’t.”
Lorne sighed aggrieved.
“Not my exact words - and we had the whole ‘toast-me-please’ going on too; but what I actually said, and I quote” His hands air-signing, “‘Not the sword, no’!” his eyebrows wiggled suggestively.
“So?”
What DOES she see in him! Lorne wondered, rolling his eyes.
“Look! When she did the dying thing…”he faltered slightly at the thinning of the vampire’s lips. “Well…she touched you-“ nodding when Angel’s hand rose briefly to his cheek. “In her last moment as an All-Powerful-Being, Uriel gave you a precious gift!” Lorne poked him in the chest. “She anchored your soul, you big ol’ lug!” A big grin split his face, as the words sunk in. “And we have a winner, ladies and gentlefolk!”
Angel’s brain went into shock, quickly followed by hope, which slowly melted into confusion.
“She…hasn’t mentioned…” he frowned. “Maybe she forgot - with all that’s been going on?”
“The whole angel-to-human thing has been a doozey, Honey buns, but she wouldn’t forget something like that! She wanted you to have a shot at the whole happy bunny!” Lorne smirked wickedly. So why wouldn’t Uriel tell him? Something so important, so HUGE! He couldn’t get his head round it; unless…
“Self-preservation!”
“No chance!”
Angel started at the sound of Lorne’s voice; belatedly realising he’d spoken out loud.
“As Cordy once said - except she was WAY off base that time! Didn’t see THAT coming-“
“This is going somewhere?”
Lorne stopped in mid sentence, flicking a look towards Angel’s annoyed face.
“Um…As the saying goes: ‘The iron is hot!’ in fact, I’d go so far as to say ice cubes would make a GREAT accessory!”
Angel stared, eventually shaking the visuals out of his head. Uriel HAD responded to him; hell, he’d been there! But the last week since she’d recovered… the nervousness, avoidance. Her actions belied that night.
The more he thought about it, the more pissed he got. Straightening his back, he exited the kitchen; no more tiptoeing around her. They’d have their little talk tonight.
“No prisoners!” he thought, as he went again to the desk, casually propping it up, eyes fixed on the redhead who smiled to herself as she, in turn, watched the others.

Part Seven: Old Habits
“God! I’m gonna miss all this when I go!” Uriel giggled, watching Cordy and Wes volleying snarky shots at each other.
The room went silent, as everyone turned towards her.
“Go?” the word quietly spoken by Angel, who’d moved away from the desk he’d been propping up.
“You meant when you’re an angel again, didn’t you?” Fred asked, uncertainly.
Jeez, why can’t I learn to think internally! She cursed.
They waited for her reply. She could lie and rescue the situation with the out that Fred had offered her, or…
“No, I didn’t” resigned to the argument that was about to kick off.
“Uri-“ she cut Angel off with a sharply raised hand. She’d been putting this off for a week now, but it was time to face it.
“You must know it isn’t safe for me to be here?” As predicted, the protests began.
“And YOU know I - WE wouldn’t let anyone get near you!” that tone of voice. He’d never used it on her before, and she wished he hadn’t decided to let her join the club.
She sighed heavily. Now everyone was at her, sending her hurt looks and making her feel even more of a heel. Lorne was strangely silent. He watched the interplay quietly. This was gonna be good. He leaned back into his chair, and sipped casually from his glass.
“Look-everyone! I KNEW I should have just upped and went -” she pointedly ignored Angel’s menacing growl, but couldn’t stop the shiver that crept up her spine. “But I decided to be up front about it. This isn’t easy, you know!” Uriel paused, rubbing her face. The foyer hushed abruptly. “I have no-one else BUT you, and…and that’s why I have to move on!”
She drew in a breath, achingly aware of the deep burning gaze centred on her face by the silent vampire.
“Who’s gonna find out, Uri? WE certainly aren’t rushing to the tabloids!”
“Uh-Uh!” Gunn folded his arms, nodding in agreement.
“There’s no way you’re in any danger…. except for our usual day-to-day danger-that’s NOT the danger you’re worrying about!” Fred finished breathlessly.
Uriel shook her head slowly, walking over to her sword, gripping it easily, turning to face them. She lifted it higher, the glowing metal shimmering eerily.
“The moment I used this, it no longer became a secret. I’m on borrowed time. I can’t stay.” Her voice low, defeated.
She placed the sword back on the wall, turning from the gentle whine it made.
“When they scout around here, all they’ll find is the sword - they’ll think it was a fluke.”
With tired feet, she made her way to the stairs.
“You’d leave it behind?”
She paused at the quiet voice. Without turning, she answered.
“My…sword is my death sentence, Angel.” She continued up the stairs.
Everyone watched until she disappeared out of sight.
“We can’t just let her leave! Can we?” Connor sounded angry, but they all could hear the worry behind the words.
“Nothing to say, Lorne?” an edge of steel belied the soft words.
The green demon glanced over to Angel, shrugging his shoulders lightly.
“What IS there to say, honey buns; you know what a firecracker she is!”
“I’m surprised,” he returned evenly. “All that trouble to look out for her, and now you don’t seem too bothered!” his voice hadn’t risen, but the tone slid down his spine chillingly. He gulped silently.
“You’re the champion; YOU stop her…if you can!” Lorne returned, the nervous crack in his voice just visible.
“Oh, I think I can” the answered the glowering vampire, as he turned to the stairs, disappearing silently.
A slight frown, hidden by his glass flickered on.
“I really hope so!”…

He closed the door behind him quietly, and then leaned against it, folding his arms. Uriel continued to look out of the window. The only sign that she was aware of him was the slight stiffening of her spine.
She could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head, and she shivered slightly. Since that day she woke up to find him sleeping in the nearby chair, she’d avoided being alone with him. The tension was almost painful. Since the kissing.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, as she recalled the feel of his mouth on her-in hers! She couldn’t afford anything more to happen. It would be even harder to leave.
“What else have you been hiding from me, Uri?” quietly spoken; yet none the less menacing.
She flicked a glance to his shadowed form. “I don’t know what you mean, Angel.” She shrugged. “I’m not hiding anything else”.
“I think maybe you did forget to mention one other little…gift!”
Uriel jumped sharply. She hadn’t even heard him cross the room, and he’d now spoken next to her ear.
“I…I’m tired Angel, can’t we talk to-”
Before she could finish, he’d whipped her round to face him. His face so close, she swallowed nervously. She knew he could hear her heart racing, and she cursed her new-found humanity. She scowled for a moment. He smiled darkly.
“It really bugs you that we’re not equal any more. I can feel your urge to throw me across the room” he purred.
Uriel flicked him coolly with her eyes, her lip curled; he wanted it this way - fine!
“Equal? Angel, we were never…equal! I just went easy with you!”
He laughed softly. She didn’t like that look in his dark eyes. God! She’d do anything to have a fraction of her powers right now. She had a feeling she was going to need them.
“Well, the tables are turned in my favour now. Lucky me!”
He settled his hands on her waist gently; but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get away from them.
“I don’t want to play your little games.” She hissed.
“You really think you have a choice?” his voice licked through her like hot butter.
“All this because I missed out on a little detail? I never thought of you as petty, Angel.”
Uriel tried to belittle him; make him feel some discomfort, but she knew she’d failed, when speculation glowed in his eyes.
“‘Little detail’? I think I have the right to be pretty put out by the ‘little detail’ you failed to mention to me. Now why would you forget to let me in on something like that?” He tilted his head slightly to the side as he perused her face. “Afraid I’d get all happy, and forget the Mission? Or…” He leaned forward until his lips were inches from hers. “Afraid I’d try out my newfound ‘little detail’ on you?” he growled softly.
Uriel edged back, only to come up short against the windowpane. He eased forward slightly to lessen the gap between them.
This was a side to Angel she wasn’t personally familiar with, and she cursed her body’s reaction to him.
‘I’ve got to get out of this somehow!’ She thought, panicking; and did the one thing she’d never have considered doing before. She kneed him in the groin.
He drew in a sharp breath, loosening his hold for a split second, and she moved as fast as her feet could take her, towards the door. He wouldn’t do this with an audience, she thought grimly as she reached out a hand for the handle - only to run headlong into a recovered Angel.
“Tut tut. Never thought you’d stoop so low, honey.”
He lifted her off her feet, strode across the room, and threw her onto the bed. Before she could slide off, he’d pinned her down. Uriel tried to claw his face, almost screaming in frustration and rage as he grabbed her wrists, holding them above her head.
“Now that’s not very ladylike!” he laughed softly, as she cursed him vilely. “Did you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
When realizing he was quite content to just watch her, Uriel stilled her struggles, eying him warily.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d call you by your other name!”
He smiled at that, leaning forward slightly to murmur.
“But you do know better, don’t you?”
She swallowed tightly. Another tactic was in order.
“Angel, this…. trying to scare me into staying - it isn’t going to work.” Keeping her voice as normal as possible.
He considered this.
“You think that’s what I’m ‘trying’ to do?”
She nodded carefully.
“You didn’t think that maybe I was just…. giving you a little going away present? After all…” he brushed his mouth across hers slowly. “That IS what we do; exchange…gifts.”

Part Eight: Goodbyes
Oh God!
“Please…. please don’t do this Angel!” she begged achingly.
He groaned softly.
“That tone makes me all warm inside. Don’t stop!” he ended with a sensual whisper.
He drew his cool tongue along her jaw, his blunt teeth gently nipping her skin. Shifting her wrists into one large hand, he slid the other down her arm pausing to rest it against the hem of her T-shirt. His fingertips slipped beneath a fraction, stroking her ribs in widening circles, until they rested below the rise of her breasts.
Her legs moved restlessly - stopping abruptly, suddenly aware of his rigid manhood pressing against her thigh. He took advantage of her movements and slid a heavily muscled thigh between hers.
As his mouth reached her neck, he drew his knee against her hot centre; at the same time his fingers circled her breast.
Uriel gasped with the onslaught on her senses. He was killing her!
Capturing her lips, his tongue slid in, leaving no part of her mouth unexplored. Uriel was lost for long, shuddering moments. Surfacing slightly, she realized the cloth barriers between them had disappeared, his naked chest brushing against the tips of her breasts as he shifted lower, teeth gently nipping her sensitised flesh.
His large hand cupped her breasts, Uriel vaguely realising that her hands were free, and were now clenched into his shoulders. He swirled his tongue around her distended nipples, suckling sensuously, causing fissions of desire to lick through her belly.
Angel continued his exploration, dipping his cool tongue into the recesses of her navel. Her body arched convulsively. Sliding his hands round her hips, he slid her trembling thighs onto his shoulders, lips brushing briefly across her soft curls.
Uriel’s upper body lifted, resting her weight on her elbows, and looked down.
Hot dark eyes rested on her face, tinges of gold flickering in their depths. His head was framed by her shaking thighs; hands resting possessively at their juncture. Almost casually he turned his head placing an open-mouthed kiss against her inner thigh.
The breath whooshed out of her as she fell back hard onto the mattress. Slowly, his mouth worshipped the delicate skin, sliding lower almost lazily. She drowned in sensations, never experienced before, her breath shooting out of her parted lips in frantic pants.
Feeling his hands gently parting her legs even wider, she glanced at him; watched him inhale her deeply, felt the low growl that rippled across her skin. His true face emerged fleetingly, before dropping his head fully, laying the flat of his tongue against her heat. She reared up, a strangled scream wrenching its way out of her tight throat, her thighs clamping against his head.
She felt him smile against her tender skin, her fingers almost shredding the sheets clenched in her fingers. The contrast of his cool mouth against her heat sent lights shooting across her vision.
Firmly, he gripped her thighs, laying them almost flat against the bed, and continued to drive her crazy. She felt his tongue slide into her, gently lapping the juices flowing freely. He paused, the tip brushing against the barrier of her innocence; before retreating slowly, sliding further up to flick at her swollen nub. Closing his mouth around it, he exerted the slighted pressure, suckling sensually.
A fist coiled tight in her belly, becoming unbearable. She bucked instinctively, pressing even closer to his working mouth.
Angel could feel how close to the edge she was, and intensified the pressure, sliding a finger into her as she crested, snapping the barrier, sinking deeper into her.
He slowly brought her down, one hand caressing her belly as his hand gentled her.
Her fingers dragged through his hair, pulling him away, her body still quaking, the waves still crashing over her. He acquiesced, drawing his hand away, glancing at his finger, drenched with her juices, and a smear of blood; he sank it into his mouth, eyes shutting tightly, growling deep into his chest at the taste of her. For a moment he wanted to drink deeply, drown in her essence. His body tightened unbearably as he stopped himself.
Uriel came back to earth as she felt him slide up her body, the slight chill of his skin strangely heating hers up even more. Once level, his mouth captured hers in a drugging kiss, drawing out yet another whimper. She could taste herself completely, almost like he was a part of her.
Her hips unconsciously rose towards him as she felt the cool tip of his solid erection nudging against her entrance. Angel shuddered, head rising until mere inches separated their faces.
“Open your eyes” his voice like honey combined with gravel making her respond instinctively, her pupils almost obscuring the vivid violet of her eyes. Her breath left her body in a rush seeing the tight arousal in his face.
Shifting his weight slightly, he pushed carefully forward, sliding inch by inch, pausing every now and again, allowing her to adjust to his invasion. He revelled in her innocence. His alter ego had always had a penchant for virgins. But the pleasure he felt now was for a different reason. Uriel, untouched since the beginning of time, was opening her body to him. His belly clenched at the thought. Her hot, wet walls flexed around him, he could feel them stretching to accommodate him, almost crushed by her narrow channel.
His control slipped for a moment. He surged forward, bottoming out; the pressure of her cervix pressed against his tip causing him to suppress a roar of feral ecstasy.
“Wait!”
He froze.
“It’s…just – I -“
“Shh” He laved her lips with his tongue, halting the sweetly disjointed words. Looking into her eyes deeply, he smiled softly. “No rush” he purred, his relaxed tone belying the tension pouring out of his body.
He waited, feeling her body shift, slowly adjust to him, groaning aloud when her hips finally pushed towards him.
He rocked his pelvis into her, taking it slow. She hesitantly followed his rhythm, gaining confidence, matching the movement of his hips. After a few moments, Uriel pushed a little bit harder. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
Angel picked up the change; he quickened the pace, thrusting powerfully, his barely held control slipping. Uriel’s breath came in short frantic gasps; clutching his ribs, back, rump; her legs rising to clasp his hips.
Angel’s control went out of the window. Growling harshly, he drove into her, tilting her hips, causing him to hit a spot that sent fireworks shooting behind her eyes. He knew she was close, he could feel her hot walls quivering. Swiftly he reached down, pressing her nub deeply, rubbing his thumb rapidly.
She exploded. Angel’s mouth swallowed the scream. All semblance of rhythm departed, his hips crashed against her spasmodically. His head shot back, face morphing, blindly he dropped back down into the curve of her throat, sliding elongated fangs into her skin.
The moment her blood hit the back of his throat, his cold seed shot from his screaming body, hips still pounding into her. Drawing his fangs from her throat, his true face dissolved, lips nursing the broken skin as his body collapsed into her.
When the shaking eased, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, pulling her over him. She draped him like a silken blanket, hot cheek pressed against his chest. He felt her eyes drift closed, and smiled sensually. Her eyes opened in surprise when a large hand cupped her jaw, raising her face to his.
“Uh-uh, not yet.”
Angel’s eyes ravaged her face hungrily.
“We’ve only just started!” he murmured silkily as he took her mouth in a deep, dark kiss…

“Heavy night?”
Uriel glanced over at the figure propping up the entrance frame. She knew he’d noted the shadows beneath her eyes, the still-tender wound gracing her neck. Cheeks deepening, she glanced away, instead resting her eyes back on her sword.
“Are you ready?” she asked quietly.
A deep sigh echoes around the foyer.
“Short notice, but yes - are you sure about this?” tone gentle.
Uriel reached out to slide her fingers gently along the blade; her shoulders drooped in defeat as she turned away.
“No; but it doesn’t change anything, does it?” she replied heavily, heading for the door, not waiting for an answer.
The figure paused briefly, glancing towards the darkened stairs, worry, and a touch of guilt flickering in his eyes.
“More than you could possibly imagine!” he muttered darkly, finally exiting the hotel, quickening his pace to catch her up.
The sword whined, the sound not unlike the cry of despair…