Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I'm not Joss or Akira Kurosawa
Summary: Set some time in AtS S5. In the spirit of the film Rashomon: One event, three perspectives.
AN: For the wonderful [info]angelstoy . Fantabulous banner by [info]sentine 



Spike had spent the morning and a good bit of the afternoon shagging a pretty little blonde from Accounting. They’d had a lovely time, but even vampire constitution had its limits. The bint had begged him for more, but he’d kissed her and ran his fingers through her tousled locks and promised her more of himself the next day. Then he’d wandered off in search of a place to sleep, because his cheap sod of a grandsire wouldn’t pay him a wage despite all the assistance he was providing and so he had no flat to go to.

He found an office where some pillock of a lawyer was blah-blahing away into his mobile phone. He grabbed the lawyer by his scrawny neck, hauled him into the corridor, and locked the door behind him. Then he lay down on the git’s sofa and pulled his duster around himself for a well-earned kip.

He was in the middle of a pleasant dream involving Buffy and some chains and a sink that had taps for whiskey and blood when an enormous ape of a man shook him awake. Spike blinked sleepily up at the bloke and saw there were actually a half dozen of them, all huge, all scowling down at him. “Boss wants to see you,” said one of them.

“Piss off.” Spike rolled over, turning his back to the crowd.

“Right now,” said the ogre and turned Spike back.

Now, Spike could have taken on all of them and won. Easily. But they were human, after all, and his soul might object to mayhem and besides, he was wearing his one good shirt and didn’t want to get it bloody. “Fine,” he said, and stood. When he snarled at the muscle, several of them looked about ready to wet their knickers.

They accompanied him down the hall and into the lift like some kind of surly honor guard, then stomped alongside him until he reached Angel’s office.

“Oh, hi, blondie bear!” squealed Harmony. She was sitting behind her desk and painting her nails pink. Her dress was pink as well, and very low cut, showing off her tits very nicely. “I could take a lunch break now, and we could go off to that supply closet, and I could—“

“Not now, sweetbreads. El Capitan needs me for something.”

She deflated. “All right. Maybe later, huh?”


The goons waited until Spike opened Angel’s door, and then they stomped away, no doubt to go terrorize puppies.

As always lately, Angel was behind his desk, his freakishly large forehead furrowed as he waded through stacks of papers. Spike sauntered over and sat on the edge of the desk. “You wanted me, Peaches?”

“I never want you,” Angel growled.

Spike smirked. He knew overcompensating when he saw it. But he only said, “You sent your thugs for me.”

Angel put down his pen and rubbed his temples. “Spike, you can’t go throwing people out of their offices. They’re trying to work. I know the concept is alien to you, but try to understand.”

“Work? Tossing about fevered bits of bastard Latin, nattering into mobile phones, making plans to slit one another’s throats. And when they do real work, it’s nasty business, which you know perfectly well. I heard some of this lot is responsible for inventing reality television. That’s evil!”

“Spike. This is an office. If you want to create trouble, go do it somewhere else.”

“Can’t exactly go anywhere now, can I? Least not if I don’t want to nosh on the locals. Besides, if I go who will save your fat arse?”

Angel stood. “My fat a—I do not need saving!” he yelled.

“Oh? And those Gloser demons the other night? I expect you would have been happy to have them crumble you into little Irish bits, which they were about to do when I arrived and saved your fat arse!” Spike was yelling as well, because he was tired of Angel never once acknowledging the contributions he made.

Angel clomped around the desk and loomed over Spike. “I had those Gloser demons well in hand and I can do just fine without you! I did do just fine without you for over a hundred years, remember?”

“Yeah, sucking on vermin and living in filth. That’s just fine, all right.”

Angel made an inchoate sound of rage and answered the only way he could—with violence. He punched Spike in the face hard enough to knock him over the desk. Spike got up grinning. He hadn’t had a scrap in a few days. He launched himself back over the desk, right into Angel’s squishy midsection. Angel tumbled backwards with Spike on top of him. They knocked over a little side table in the process, breaking the glass top and sending magazines flying.

Angel vamped out and shoved Spike away, then leapt to his feet. Spike vamped out as well and rolled, narrowly missing a kick in the bollocks. Angel’s foot collided with the other table. It flew into the wall and shattered.

Spike jumped up and threw himself at Angel, getting in a good headbutt to Angel’s jaw that nearly caused Angel to slice his tongue in two with his fangs. Angel grabbed Spike’s head, his great mitts over Spike’s ears, and wrenched at it as if he meant to twist Spike’s head off. So far, Spike had only been playing about, but Angel’s actions made him angry and he roared and struck at the blighter’s neck with his teeth, meaning to finally dust the old git once and for all.

But then Angel surprised Spike by pulling him closer instead of trying to push him away, and Angel pressed his bloody mouth against Spike’s and kissed him. Spike was so shocked he froze. Angel took advantage of this to begin feverishly tearing Spike’s clothing, ripping his good shirt to shreds and then tugging impatiently at his jeans.

Spike wrenched his face free. “Peaches? What the bloody hell?”

But Angel only moaned and shredded Spike’s trousers, leaving him completely bare. Angel’s hands roamed over Spike’s skin, fondling and squeezing everywhere until Spike lost track of why they’d been fighting. He had been intimate with a bloke only once before, and that bloke was Angelus, over a hundred years earlier. But his body remembered what it felt like to handled by someone as strong as he was and larger, and it was a good feeling, knowing they could pound away at one another without worrying about injuries.

“God, Spike,” Angel groaned, clutching Spike more tightly against him and squeezing Spike’s arse.

Spike realized then that he was naked aside from his boots, while Angel was fully clothed. He immediately set about remedying that situation, seizing Angel’s poncy silk shirt and trousers  and boxers and tearing them to pieces.

They ground against one another desperately, hard cock against hard cock, panting and grunting, until Angel made a strange keening noise and his body stiffened, and he and Spike were both made sticky by his cool semen.

Angel slumped against Spike, resting his head in the crook of Spike’s neck. He sighed heavily.

“Oi!” Spike said. “Not finished with you yet.” He pushed at Angel, who was now much more pliant, until Angel’s arse was perched on the edge of his desk. Then Spike pressed against Angel’s chest, urging him backwards so that Angel was lying across the top of the desk with his legs hanging over the edge. Spike shoved himself between those legs, knelt, and proceeded to give Angel a bloody good blowjob that had the older vampire’s cock hard and ready again in no time.

“Jesus,” Angel said. “You’re so fucking good at that. Don’t stop!”

So Spike kept on sucking and licking. Soon he was teasing one finger around the outside of Angel’s hole as well. Angel whimpered and splayed his legs wantonly, giving Spike better access. Angel was bucking his hips as well as he could, calling out curses and endearments in Gaelic and English and a dozen other languages, and Spike teased him, tonguing inside his slit and then scraping teeth against his foreskin.

“Christ, Spike. Fuck me!”

Spike didn’t have to be asked twice. He spat on his fingers and rubbed the liquid against and slightly into his grandsire’s sphincter. That would have to do for slick, but Angel didn’t seem to mind, and when Spike rammed his big cock fully inside Angel, Angel cried out and clutched at him convulsively.

Angel’s channel was tight and welcoming. Spike let Angel adjust to him for a moment and then began moving, dragging his cock in and out with infinite slowness and care. Angel cried out again and again as Spike rubbed against his sweet spot and Angel raised his spread knees nearly to his ears. Unfortunately, his weight, combined with their vigorous movements, was too much for the desk. It creaked and cracked and then collapsed beneath them, sending shards of wood everywhere. But both were too far gone to care, and Spike just pounded away as Angel writhed beneath him.

It didn’t take much longer for Angel to climax for a second time. The look on his face as he came and the strong contractions of the muscles that gripped Spike were enough to send Spike over the edge as well and he pumped his spend deep inside the other vampire.

They both lay there like that, trying to catch their unneeded breaths. Spike was still inside Angel, his cock still half-hard, and he was wondering whether he felt like another round. Angel was brilliant, but he’d had loads of shagging that day.

And then the door flew open.

Spike had just enough time to register Harmony standing there with her mouth hanging open, and then the man at her side roared and lunged toward Spike and Angel. He was a big, Yakuza-looking bloke in black trousers and black silk tee, with tattoos covering his arms and his hair slicked back. And fangs, because he wasn’t a bloke at all but a vampire, and he was screaming Angel’s name and loads of Japanese gibberish.

Spike thought fast. While Angel cowered among the rubble, Spike grabbed a broken leg from the desk and thrust it at the attacking demon, neatly skewering him through the heart. The vamp roared and dusted.

They all stood there a moment. Then Harmony clapped her hands and squealed—“You saved Bossy, blondie bear!” –and plastered herself against his strong, naked body in a grateful hug. Angel meanwhile, pawed around for some shred of his clothes—and perhaps of his dignity as well. He didn’t say anything, but he gave Spike a thankful little nod.

Spike nodded back.

Knowing he had nothing to be ashamed of, he strode out of the office in all his nude glory, in search of fresh clothing and, perhaps, a celebratory drink.



Angel was buried in paperwork. He was always buried in paperwork nowadays—contracts and agreements and purchase orders and a million more things that needed his attention because he knew he couldn’t trust anyone else to do things right. The only thing that got him through the grinding tedium was the knowledge that he was fighting evil, weakening the corrupt law firm from inside. But he was really looking forward to finishing this day’s stack so he could get in the Viper and drive off someplace where he could wipe the floor with a couple of flesh and blood bad guys.

So he was irritated when someone knocked on his door, and more irritated still when Dennison, part of the firm’s security detail, came walking into his office. “Sir,” Dennison said. “We have sort of a problem.”

Angel put down his pen and rubbed his eyes.”What?” he was secretly hoping it was something he could go kill.

“It’s Spike, sir.”

Those were words guaranteed to give the strongest vampire a headache. “What now?” he growled.

“He’s passed out drunk in Bob Hernandez’s office. Bob’s got that really important eminent domain case he’s supposed to be working on, and he can’t. And earlier today, Spike was hanging out in Accounting, giving some of the women a hard time. A few of them are talking about filing sexual harassment claims, and you know—“

“Fine,” Angel interrupted. “I get it. More of the usual. Bring him here.”

He’d been giving Spike a lot of leeway. After all, the little idiot had sort of helped Buffy in Sunnydale, there at the end, and then he’d been that ghost thing, which couldn’t have been easy on him. But there were limits to Angel’s patience, and Spike had just surpassed them.

Dennison came back a few minutes later. He and one of his flunkies were dragging Spike by the arms. Spike smelled like a distillery and his eyes were bleary. “Oi!” he said as the security men dumped him on the floor. “Mind the merchandise.”

Angel waved at the men and they walked away, shutting the door behind them. Spike tottered to his feet and smiled. “You wanted me, Peaches?”

“I never want you,” Angel growled.

Spike smirked in that infuriating way only he could. “You sent your thugs for me.”

Angel put down his pen again  and rubbed his temples. “Spike, you can’t go throwing people out of their offices. They’re trying to work. I know the concept is alien to you, but try to understand.”

“Work? Tossing about fevered bits of bastard Latin, nattering into mobile phones, making plans to slit one another’s throats. And when they do real work, it’s nasty business, which you know perfectly well. I heard some of this lot is responsible for inventing reality television. That’s evil!”

“Spike. This is an office. If you want to create trouble, go do it somewhere else.”

“Can’t exactly go anywhere now, can I? Least not if I don’t want to nosh on the locals. Besides, if I go who will save your fat arse?”

That was enough. Angel was tired of this conversation and he wanted to get back to his papers so there would be some small hope of actually finishing them before every demon in LA was tucked into bed. He stood and walked around the desk, intending to pick Spike up by the scruff of his neck and…do something with him. Shut him up.

Spike must have seen the look of grim determination on Angel’s face because he scrambled backwards, a look of alarm plastered across his face. But in his drunken state he was clumsy, and he fell back onto a little table, shattering it into pieces. Angel reached over to help the moron up, but Spike stuck out his foot and tripped him, sending Angel crashing to the floor.

They both rolled around a little after that, breaking the other table in the process, until Angel was able to extricate himself and stand. Angel’s temper had begun to flare by then and he shifted to gameface. So did Spike. Spike roared and flung himself at Angel, grabbing the bigger vampire around the middle in some kind of misguided wrestling hold. Just as Angel bent over a little to dislodge him, Spike lifted his hard head, crashing the crown of it into Angel’s jaw and causing Angel to nearly bite through his tongue.

“Ow!” they both said, and Spike staggered a few steps backward. They stood there for a moment, staring at one another. But then Spike focused on the trickle of blood running from the corner of Angel’s mouth and the expression on his face rapidly melted into something altogether different. He did that thing with his tongue and his teeth—that thing he obviously thought was so sexy—and smirked. And then he sauntered towards Angel, prowling like a cat in heat.

Angel tried to back away, but the wall was right behind him.

Spike ran a hand down Angel’s chest. “How about it, Peaches? Been ages since we’ve had a tumble.”

Angel was not gay. And he’d never had sexual relations with another male. Well, Angelus did once, with Spike, when they were both drunk and the girls were Christ knew where. But that didn’t count.

Angel was going to refuse. He was going to call security and have them just haul Spike out into the sunshine and be done with him. But then Spike took a half a step back and, in one fluid movement, tore his shirt away. Even though he wasn’t gay, Angel had to admit to himself that Spike had a nice body, slim but muscular. Angel used to draw it, sometimes, back in the day, with the firelight flickering off pale skin, and he was fascinated by the way it was exactly as he remembered. And Angel had always had a thing for small blonds. Plus, he was pretty sure Spike had picked up a little of Dru’s old thrall trick, because suddenly Angel couldn’t tear his eyes away.

In a move worthy of any stripper, Spike unbuttoned his ridiculously tight jeans and then ripped them away too, so that he stood there in only his beat-up old boots, his cock standing up straight and a little desperate-looking.

Angel took pity on him. Spike had always been kind of a slut, really, and with Dru long gone and Buffy out of the picture, that left only Harmony for him, and even she’d been turning up her nose at him lately. Besides, Angel himself hadn’t been getting much action in, oh, about a century. But he knew his soul was safe with Spike, so he didn’t protest when Spike put his hands out and tore Angel’s three hundred dollar Armani shirt away as if it were one of Spike’s cheap t-shirts. Then Spike clawed anxiously at Angel’s Hugo Boss trousers and favorite boxers, turning them to rags.

As soon as they were both naked except for their shoes, Spike flung himself up against Angel, rubbing up and down like a cat again, and of course Angel wasn’t completely immune to the feel of a hard and willing body against his, and his cock hardened. He grabbed Spike’s ass, which really was one of his better features, and squeezed.

“God, Sire,” Spike moaned into Angel’s neck. Angel grabbed his head and kissed him, chasing the taste of blood and whiskey in his grandchilde’s mouth. But when he moved his mouth down and nibbled on Spike’s neck, Spike stiffened and jerked against him, and Angel and Spike were both made sticky by Spike’s cool spend. Spike sighed heavily and slumped against him.

Angel would have been okay with ending it then—he was good at self-denial—but then Spike reached down and stroked Angel’s cock. “Please, Angel. Please let me take care of this.”

He sounded so needy that Angel couldn’t refuse him. Angel walked over to his desk and sat on the edge. Spike made a happy little noise and fell to his knees, and Angel did have to admit he looked really pretty like that. He looked even prettier a moment later, when he took Angel’s big cock and began worshiping it with his mouth. “Jesus,” Angel groaned. “You were made to do that, William.”

Spike rolled his eyes up at Angel, and his gaze was soft and beautiful for once. Angel couldn’t hold off any more. He pulled Spike away, ignoring the smaller vampire’s whine of protest, and stood, then bent him over the edge of the desk so that his ass was displayed invitingly.

“Yeah, Sire. Fuck me, please. I need that huge cock of yours inside me. Please, Sire.”

Angel slapped his cheeks once or twice for impertinence, but Spike only smiled and wiggled invitingly. But then Angel stopped. “Uh, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t. Please, Angel!”

Spike wiggled again, and Angel lined his cock up against his tight little hole and slowly pushed in, realizing as he went that the wanton little thing had already lubed himself. His channel was tight and welcoming, and as Spike rocked his hips demandingly, Angel began thrusting inside, shaking the whole desk with the vigor of his movements. “Bloody hell, that feels good,” Spike panted, and Angel had to agree, but couldn’t quite manage speech right then.

“Oh, God, like that!” Spike cried, and he writhed so much that the desk groaned and cracked and shattered to the floor, taking the vampires with it. But neither of them cared at that moment. Just a thrust or two later Spike shouted something incoherent and he came. The clenching of his muscles sent Angel over the edge, too, and Angel climaxed harder than he had since—in a really long time.

After that, they both lay there, Angel still buried deeply inside Spike. Angel ran his fingers over Spike’s silky skin and enjoyed a rare moment of quiet from his progeny.

And then the door burst open. Harmony stood there, gaping at them both. Next to her was a client, whom Angel suddenly remembered he had an appointment with. Some vampire bigwig from Asia. The guy took one look at where Angel and Spike lay in a post-coital tangle and shouted something out. Angel’s Japanese was a little rusty, but he was pretty sure the tattooed vampire was yelling something about wanting to take over Wolfram & Hart’s LA offices. He lunged towards Angel, and Angel quickly picked up a broken desk leg and staked him.

They all froze for a moment in shock. Then Harmony clapped her hands and squealed. “That was so heroic, Bossy!” She gave Angel’s naked body a big hug and Spike looked on and leered, clearly imagining the possibilities for threesomes.

Angel used his head—the only free part of himself—to gesture at Spike to leave. He still had that work to do, and now the papers were scattered all over the office. Spike nodded back at him with a little smile and then left. He was obviously too dazed from sex to realize he was still naked.

Angel patted Harmony awkwardly and pushed her away. “Get this cleaned up and, uh, have some new furniture brought up. I’m gonna go shower.”

“Sure, Angel,” she said. He headed for his elevator, already thinking about those pesky negotiations with that G’rhalik clan.


Harmony was busy trying to figure out the new phone system they’d had installed. She couldn’t understand why they’d bothered, because the old one was perfectly fine, and this new one was just so darn complicated! She kept pressing the wrong button and cutting people off, and grumpy demons were so not what she needed today, when she was also having a bad hair day and her nylons had a run in them, and you’d think that they could make special nylons for vampires that would, like, last longer.

Some of those big security guys in the ugly black outfits stomped into the boss’s office—totally ignoring her, by the way—and then stomped away again.

Harmony decided her fingernails could use a new coat of Paris in Pink polish. She was just finishing applying it when the men in black returned, this time dragging Spike with them. Spike looked grouchy, but she pretended not to notice, because she was totally not speaking to him, not when he treated her like dirt after what they’d once had together. Plus he’d slept with that skank Buffy, and really, what girl wants sloppy seconds to a Slayer? So she didn’t look at him, and didn’t even notice the way his tight little butt looked in those jeans he wore.

A few minutes later Chloe came by. Chloe thought she was really hot shit because she worked the front desk, when everyone knew that the CEO’s receptionist was way more important and was, like, at the top of the secretary food chain. But Harmony didn’t say anything about that, and didn’t even tell Chloe that that orange dress she was wearing totally didn’t work with her skin color and kind of made her look like a corpse, which was funny because Harmony actually was dead but she looked way better. Harmony smiled at Chloe. “Hey, girl! What’s up?”

Chloe smiled back. She had little lines at the corner of her eyes and could really use some Botox. “Hey, Harm. I was wondering if you had that file on the MacNulty case.” Yeah, as if she totally hadn’t come up just to check out what Harmony was wearing so she could try to copy it next week.

“MacNulty case? Isn’t that the one—“ Loud shouting came from inside Angel’s office, followed by a thump and a crash, and then another thump and crash. “—where the guy’s wife was possessed and now he’s suing for alienation of affection?”

Chloe frowned at her. She shouldn’t do that. It made more little lines. “Um, shouldn’t you check on that noise?” She gestured toward the office.

Harmony rolled her eyes. “It’s just Angel and Spike fighting again. They do that a lot. It’s some sort of thing to prove who’s manlier, like writing their name in the snow. Only, I guess vamps can’t so that, can they?” She’d never thought of that before. She wondered if it bothered Angel and Spike.

There was more yelling, some of it probably in British.

“Uh, okay,” Chloe said. “But the file?”

Harmony shrugged. “I haven’t seen it. Maybe Veronica on three has it. She loses things a lot.”

Chloe looked slightly skeptical, but she nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Harm.” And she walked away.

Harmony went back to puzzling out the phone.

Inside Angel’s office, someone shouted “God!” and someone shouted “Please!” and that was very strange. They weren’t praying, were they? Because demons didn’t do that. Unless maybe they were praying to Satan. Except she’d definitely heard them say, “God,” and besides, Angel and Spike didn’t really strike her as the praying type. She shrugged to herself. Maybe it was a new thing. Maybe they were praying to be able to pee their names in the snow again.

She was contemplating this when someone cleared his throat. She opened her eyes to see this really hot guy in black. A nice, sexy black outfit, not the ugly stuff security wore. He had all these really cool tattoos on his arms. Maybe she should get a tattoo. A unicorn on her lower back, maybe. That would be cute. He had a nice haircut, too, and really pretty eyes. Soulful eyes. Only without the soul, because he was a vampire, she could tell. She smiled widely and inhaled even though she didn’t have to, because she knew that would show off her boobs. “Can I help you?”

“My name is Ryuu. I have an appointment with Angel.” He had this really cool accent, Chinese or something.

Just then, a really tremendous crash came from Angel’s office. Ryuu looked startled, but Harmony ignored it. “Sure, Mr. Ryuu. I’ll just tell him you’re here.” She batted her eyes at him and picked up the phone, but no matter what numbers she pushed, she seemed to get some guy down in the mailroom. Finally, she hung up again and turned up her smile a few watts. “Follow me, please.”

He did, and she was really glad she wore her new dress with the pink polka-dots that day, because she knew it showed off her butt really nicely. She couldn’t see behind herself, of course, but she knew his eyes would be tracking her progress.

She opened the office door.

The first thing she saw was Angel and Spike rolling around on the floor. Rolling around naked on the floor, among the remains of Angel’s furniture. She stood rooted to the spot, because she’d never guessed that either of them was batting for the other team, and plus, they both had really nice asses. Naked asses.

The furniture was all trashed, though, and she knew she was going to have to be the one to clean it up even though it totally wasn’t her fault. She knelt and picked up a piece of broken desk. At the same time, Ryuu shouted in horror—apparently he wasn’t expecting naked Angel either, and wasn’t all that pleased about it—and took a quick step backwards. But his foot slid on a pile of papers and he fell back, right into the wooden desk leg Harmony was holding. He screamed and went poof, while Angel and Spike screamed and scrambled to cover themselves with their hands.

Harmony clapped her hands to get their attention, and when that didn’t seem to work, she walked over to them and grabbed their arms. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, but it was totally an accident! I didn’t mean to stake him. Please don’t fire me!” Because it was really hard for a vampire girl to find a decent job nowadays, one that would pay her enough for a good apartment and shopping and keep her supplied with that yummy otter blood, and she’d been warned that she was on thin ice after that incident with the Jthid demons, even though that totally wasn’t her fault either. Honestly, you’d think someone would have mentioned to her that they melt if they get wet, and then she would have been more careful with that water pitcher.

Angel and Spike looked at one another and nodded, no doubt in some secret code to arrange their next love session and she was so going to have to see if she could spy on them somehow.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll go now,” Spike said. And he sort of slunk out of the office, still buck naked, but then it wasn’t like he had anything to be ashamed of, or like he hadn’t already offered himself to half the female staff. And maybe some of the male as well, she thought now.

Angel glared at her with his forehead all wrinkly, as if he needed Botox, too, but that was stupid because vampires didn’t need Botox. “Get this cleaned up. And have some new furniture brought in.”

“Sure, Bossy.”

She didn’t say anything else, but just watched him walk to the elevator. He had a big shard of glass stuck in one cheek, and that had to hurt. Well, not her problem. Harmony went back to her desk to see if she could figure out how to call maintenance.




Wesley took off his glasses and set them on his desk, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. He pretended not to look at the thick pile of notes he’d taken while interviewing the vampires. Well, he could fool himself for a few minutes, but he knew by the next day the Senior Partners would be sending someone looking for an explanation about what happened. Ryuu had been the most powerful vampire in all Japan, and his dusting was going to leave a messy gap in the power structure. There would probably be inter-demon warfare, and humans were bound to get caught in the crossfire. The Senior Partners wouldn’t give a damn about the humans, of course, and would undoubtedly find some way to profit from the upcoming struggle. But they would want to know what had happened to their very deep-pocketed client.

It wasn’t right. Since when had Wesley’s life come to this? He’d meant to be a Watcher, a great fighter of monsters, and here he was, drafting reports.

Well, he thought, philosophically, at least he didn’t have to rely on the conflicting stories he’d been told. And at least there was an occasional unexpected fringe benefit to the job. He put his glasses back on and, glancing to ensure that his office door was locked, unfastened his trousers. Then, congratulating himself for having installed the hidden security camera in Angel’s office, he turned on the monitor in front of him.

The End

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