It wasn’t until he felt the slight hitch of breath, not nearly enough, make the ribs that his arms encircled rise and fall for the first time, that he remembered the feel of warmth the last time he’d been wrapped in these arms. Now that warmth was cool on his skin, too cool on his skin. Again he felt the sharp intake of air. There was something he had missed. Something beyond the cool stillness. His eyes shot open with a flash of violet. No heartbeat. He remembered that he had been laying upon his chest and there was nothing. No rise and fall of breath, no heartbeat, none of the quiet noise a body makes in stillness. He fought to keep his body relaxed but his heart had jumped into his throat and threatened to choke him. Now his mind raced through what he could remember clearly. The unnaturally pale flesh punctuated by nutmeg freckles and the frail, light tracery of veins below that nearly transparent skin. The sensual grace in movement and startling speed, so fast to catch him... the sharpness against his tongue and feeling of too many teeth beyond his lips when he had kissed him. Angel needed to see him for what he was.

“You’re... you’re not everything that you seem.” Angel took a big breath and then one step back, releasing him. Dallieh let him go and his arms fell limply at his sides.

At first it was hard to see. Dallieh’s chin was lowered and shadows played across his face distorting his features. Then he tipped his head back enough and Angel realized that it wasn’t shadows at all but tears, dark and crimson, that marred the perfect ivory of Dallieh’s face. He was fascinated and looked into that face, those glowing green eyes, before raising one tentative hand, fingertips touching the liquid upon that fair skin. The moment he touched it he was sure that’s what it was, even before he looked at it closer upon his fingertips: blood. His lips parted as if he were going to say something but he became lost in Dallieh’s expression. He realized that Dallieh had never meant to run... not that night. He thought that Angel would. He was waiting for him to. Why did he think that Angel would run?

“You’re not... human.” Angel lifted his hand one more time. Tracing the line of blood down his face wishing he could somehow erase it from that pale skin then smearing it across his cheek with his thumb. Now so still again, the man before him was a shadow of how he’d felt a thousand times. It was that same haunted expression he’d seen when he kissed him and it deepened the longer that Angel stood there. Dallieh was waiting to be alone again, so sure of the outcome, he had already resigned himself to feeling the pain. Angel swallowed hard. Some part of him ached. He knew that pain. He was not afraid. He couldn’t turn away but he had no idea what to do with this. He became lost in Dallieh's crystalline eyes, so pure and now unsure of the conclusion that he had been so certain of just moments before. 

Angel had only taken a step back but had otherwise remained. His touches, though tentative, were not shaking or fearful. He stood there caught in his gaze, but not because he was afraid to move, because of something else that Dallieh had been unprepared to see: a knowing acceptance, empathy on a soul-deep level. Now he had to touch him, feel Angel’s warmth to make sure that he was real. Slowly, so slowly he reached until his fingers traced features they had already traced a hundred times over two nights of pain and warmth. Then Angel smirked and let his breath catch so it sounded like the whisper of a laugh.

“I’m not a ghost yanno. I ain’t gonna turn into mist.”

Then he turned and took a step away. That was it. Dallieh was so sure that he would just walk away but it was only two steps before Angel turned back and looked at him again. He was waiting. Angel was waiting for him to follow. He didn’t take another step forward until he was sure that Dallieh realized that he was waiting for him.

Angel knew they couldn’t remain on the streets for long, not with Dallieh following behind him.  But he found himself wandering further down the dark alley.  Shadowed pathways he normally avoided, he now tempted fate by entering without hesitation.  There was a way to reach his home without taking to brighter main streets.  In the darkness he gave Dallieh every chance to.... to do anything.  No-one would miss him, if he was gone. That had been made painfully obvious earlier.  But that was not the intention he could sense in the one that followed just a step behind.  There was... nothing at all coming from him, really.  A vague numbness.  Confusion at best.  He remained so quiet.  Even his steps on the concrete were silent.  How was it possible to move without a sound when you were wrapped in chains?  Angel had always thought himself light footed, but the soft click of his boots sounded as loud as shotgun blasts to his ears.

He chanced a swift look back.  Dallieh had his head down, hood drawn up, hands in his pockets.  Angel must have looked just a pulsebeat too long, because those bright eyes looked up at him, then.  There was so much pain there that, against his will, Angel found himself echoing it, his eyes turning to soft shades of blue, before he faced forward again.  He turned another corner, then another, navigating the maze of side streets as easily as if he’d had a map in his head.  And even through all the shadows and gloom, Dallieh simply followed at his heels like a loyal dog.  It was both slightly unnerving, and comforting at the same time.  But Angel knew the longer they were out on the streets, the more chance there would be of someone seeing them.  Seeing Dallieh, and the blood smeared on his face.  

He turned a corner, then stopped short with a muttered curse.  He felt Dallieh rock back on his heels behind him, also coming to a sudden stop. Around the corner before them was none other than Jezabelle, and she was turned in their direction.  Angel backed up a bit, but it was too late, she’d seen him.

“Angel!  What the hell, Angel?”

Jezz came jogging towards him, waving her hand to get his attention.  Angel cursed again, and held an arm out as though to force Dallieh to back up as well.  Something was wrong.  The feeling radiating from the man behind him was all wrong.  Angel’s heart began to pound.

“Jezz, go away.”

“No, fuck you, you shoved me, then just ran off.” She couldn’t see that Angel was with someone else.

“Yeah, cuz you can’t take a hint.  I mean it, Jezz, don’t get any closer.”

It was too late.  Jezz had started to reach for Angel, intending to shove him right back, but she never made contact.  Dallieh moved faster than Angel could blink, stepping in front of him, a vicious snarl on his lips.  He had Jezz pinned against the wall beside them in an instant.  Just as quickly as it happened, Angel reacted.

“Don’t!”

The man before him froze. It would be a long time before Angel was able to shake that image from his mind.  Jezz’s face was white as paper, eyes wide and terrified.  A pale, tattooed hand was wrapped around her throat, nails like talons against her flesh.  And Dallieh... those sharp teeth bared, ready to tear open anything that came too close.  Blood smeared down his face, drying in the nighttime air.  Angel would remember thinking, despite all that, there was no malicious intent.  It wouldn’t have been an act of murder or cruelty, it was self defense, somehow protective.  There was a part of this one that had shut down, and he was running on instinct alone.  It was feral, and wild, and yet somehow, not frightening.  Not for him.  For Jezz, it had to be terrifying.  But Angel couldn’t feel any sort of fear in watching.

He placed a hand against Dallieh’s arm, squeezed, gently insisting those cool fingers release Jezabelle.  He wanted to be surprised that it worked, but somehow he wasn’t; he’d known that it would, that for some reason, Dallieh would obey.  He ignored his female co-worker as she slid down the wall, gasping for breath, instead he kept his gaze fixed on Dallieh.  Watching his posture relax just a bit, his mouth close, to hide too many pointed teeth.  His brow furrowed, with an expression that was ever so vaguely distressed.  Once more Angel was struck with the impression that he was expected to flee.  He tilted his head just a little, asking without words why Dallieh expected him to run.  Should he be afraid?  And once more, he watched those pale features go blank with the surprise that Angel wasn’t afraid, and wouldn’t be running.

“Are you ok?”  Angel murmured.

He received a dumbstruck nod in response, and then those ocean colored eyes looked away.  Jezz was making noise in the background, but Angel ignored her.  She was insignificant. All her words - if they were words at all - were just so much chatter and nonsense, that Angel had already tuned her out.  He started walking again, Dallieh falling into step behind him.  Had he been an actual dog, Angel was positive his tail would be curled between his legs, and his head would be ducked low, ears down.  It was such a vivid image in his mind that he actually glanced back to be sure it was still a man following him, and not a canine.