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Victor coolly regarded Shaper and blinked slowly. "Down boy. Calm down."

Shaper half-growled at Victor, and his eyes rolled up into his head, the mask fell off his face, and the rizen fell to the ooze-covered ground with a wet thump.

Victor exhaled loudly, blowing air up through his bangs. "Great." He reached down and managed to lever Shaper onto his shoulder. "You do realize you outweigh me by almost a hundred pounds? This isn't any fun." He hauled Shaper to the relative cover of a nearby porch and attempted to revive him to as sensible as the rizen got.

Shaper blinked, and half-woke with a moan, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at Victor.

"What just happened? There was that old lady... and now I'm waking up on somebody's porch covered in blood."

Victor decided to go for humor. "Yeah, most people just wake up on somebody's lawn in a puddle of puke when they have a bachelor party but you, you go all the way." He sighed, and lit up, passing the packet to Shaper, along with, on a second thought a handkerchief to wipe off with. Shaper blinked, and cleaned off his face and hands as best he could, then lit himself a clove.

"Damn it, I'm supposed to remember this kind of thing! What happened back there?"

Victor sighed.

"You tore her apart, and Charon and the rest of his goons hightailed it."

"So we need to keep looking."

Victor sighed, much as he liked Shaper's back-up capabilities, he didn't need him to blank like that again. The chances of him not realizing Victor was friendly was too low.

"No. You're going to get Detective Hillman, and tell him what's going on and I'm going to go find Charon."

"I think you've got this backwards, Victor," Shaper said slowly. "This is my fight. I'm going to find Charon, and you can go get Detective Hillman."

"Or maybe Detective Hillman will find you two, and save you the trouble." The two looked up to see the watchman standing in front of them, hair plastered to his head by the rain.

Shaper blinked.

"Oh." Then he stood up. "Well then, Victor, you talk to him. I'm going after Charon. Or at least his goons. They deserve it."

As Shaper stood up, Victor grabbed the back of his coat and yanked him back down to a sitting position. "Sit down, asshole," he ordered. "The kind of mayhem you could create by going off alone is..." He paused. "Something I'd not like to think about." He turned his attention to the detective. "I'll sum it up, he bears a striking resemblance to Charon's old enemy, and somehow has started channeling the dead hunter's spirit."

'Liar, liar, liar,' thought Shaper.

"The vampires are going to be causing a lot of trouble tonight, so we're out looking for them, hopefully to kill them before they make anymore mess." Detective Hillman sighed, and looked from the VERY not human Shaper, back to the congenial Victor.

"Alright. I'm having the guard out on doubled patrols then. If you'll need anything, most of them should be in yelling distance. And be careful."

"Brilliant," muttered Victor as the detective walked away.

When Victor looked back at Shaper, he blinked, the rizen had vanished into thin air while he'd been talking to Hillman.

"Just brilliant."

He rolled his eyes to the stormy sky above him.

"I don't need this shit!" he complained. A roll of thunder answered him. "Yeah, yeah I know." He extinguished the clove before he stood up off the sheltering porch and headed out to find Shaper, or Charon, or both. Now he was really pissy. He hated it when people didn't listen to him.

Victor heard rather than saw the rizen first, tearing a few of Charon's pets limb from gory limb in a bout of pure, blinding red rage. Charon, eyes wide, was backing his way away from Shaper, a few of his followers trying to keep the rizen at bay.

They needn't have worried.

Shaper looked up, and stared at Victor, a low growl building in the rizen's throat.

Victor was now no longer really sure which threat was worse, a crazed and angry Shaper, or Charon's goons. And both were rushing him at once, from two different directions! A quick glance of the surrounding area gave him all the information he needed to get out of the way. A wild leap had his gloved fingers scrambling for purchase on a porch roof edge, as Shaper continued in his charge, toppling another vampire who was in front of Victor. In a sudden display of gymnastic ability, Victor flung himself out from his perch to the retreating back of the monster known as Charon. Through fate or ill luck, when they came out of the crashing tumble, Victor was on the bottom, less than half an inch from Charon's raw face. From this close angle, Victor could see that it still oozed wetly. Charon snarled, and wrapped a hand around Victor's throat before he could move. Shaper was busy with the goons as Angel actually felt his windpipe give way. A flashing silver knife buried itself to the hilt in the vampire's leg, giving the small dark hunter a chance to wrest away, choking and bearing fangs that had slipped from their sheaths.

Charon hissed, and ran while Victor was recovering, none of the others followed, so engaged with Shaper's anger were they. After a moment, Victor couldn't hear the screams anymore, and someone touched his arm.

"Victor?" Shaper whispered softly, looking down at his friend, face and hair dripping pinkish water, blood and rain mixed. He was sane again, and that was good thing.

"Y... *cough* yeah," he choked.

"I think I need some help."

"Ya think?" coughed Victor again. "Shit. The last asshole that gave me this much trouble wasn't a fooking vampire."

Shaper moved back out of Victor's range of vision. There were guardsmen all over the place, their torches lighting up this tiny square of town brightly.

"Well, I'm not a vampire, and I give you trouble at times."

Victor sighed.

"Yeah, but I'm not trying to kill you," Victor choked out as Shaper hefted him up, and looked at the Guards.

"We're going home. Victor needs help. You can find him there. Sorry I can't stay and clean up my messes tonight, but Charon's still out here someplace. I have to find him."

"Put me the fuck down!" ordered Victor, voice cracking. "I'm not about to let you carry me anywhere like a godamned melodrama victim. I'm just a little fucking winded, alright?" Victor punctuated that statement by a decent clout on the top of Shaper's head. The rizen took the hint and dropped him, and Victor managed - just barely - to gain his feet. This entire encounter greatly amused the guards who didn't interfere. He did dig in his pouch until he came up with a long brightly woolen scarf, which he then wrapped around his neck several times.

"Alright," he croaked, voice still a little shaky. "Like the boy said, there are some serious messes out here tonight, and we're sorry, but we're trying to prevent bigger ones."

Shaper tilted his head looking at the scarf.

"You know, that thing makes you look like Dr. Who."

Victor sighed.

"Fuck you, Shaper. Let's go." And they were off again.

Shaper sighed, and slipped on the mask, he was upset it kept trying to take him over every time it saw Charon, but it hadn't been able to until after he'd remembered too much of what had happened in those last two days of Merrill's life. He needed time alone to use the mask's powers, and burn those memories away.

He needed to not have Victor playing his nursemaid when he did it, as well.

"Victor?"

The dark-haired man blinked, pausing.

"What?"

Shaper sighed.

"I'm sorry..." And he clouted his friend on the back of the head, and vanished off into the night.

Shaper felt like a total rat, and worse for what he'd just done. So as soon as he was sure he'd found a fairly safe place, he sat down, and let the power of the mask start frying away all that remained in his head that'd been Merrill. With the demon fighting for control, he didn't want to risk Victor being near, risk getting hurt, or killed by him like this. And with the way he himself had been acting of late, with the mask taking over every time it saw or heard about Charon, he needed to wrest that control back.

If anyone happened by, he'd have been a glimpse at some dark nightmare, blood dripping out of eyes, mouth, nose and ears as he twitched and writhed, mentally fighting his own personal and literal demon. And winning. Thank god he was winning. He didn't want to know what would happen if he lost this fight.

And the mask was only too happy to oblige him, showing images of Amy, raped and torn limb from limb, then Victor, looking like he'd been partially eaten by some beast. Then flashes of other villagers but they grew fainter and fainter, the fight dragging on far later than he realized. And then the mask showed him the memories he was trying to give up, memories of who he'd loved, and what had happened, why they had happened, and what would happen if he did or did not forget.

And Shaper screamed, long, loud, and frightened.

It sounded like the call of a wild thing torn from his throat, coupled with pain as at last, both mask and bearer fell silent.

Shaper sat, eyes shut leaning against the wall of some dry-goods store, blood running down his face and neck, lying there, limp as a forgotten rag doll.

Victor woke up in a mud puddle, with Detective Hillman shaking him.

"Christ, Angel, what's the matter with you, taking a nap in the street and the rain."

"Yeah, well I'm full of all sorts of awful ideas," Victor said, spitting out a mouthful of mud. "Trusting Shaper when he was in that state being one of them."

"DO you think he's a danger?"

"Only to himself."

"What the fuck's wrong with your voice?"

"I'll get better." Victor smiled thinly. "And thanks for noticing it." He rubbed the back of his head with a mud encrusted glove. What the hell, in this cold rain, he'd be clean again before dawn came and he went in.

"Love to chat, gotta find an idiot and a psychopath before dawn." Victor clambered to his feet.

Shaper was easier to find, as he wobbled his way down the streets, bathed in blood, and looking confused. He wasn't wearing the mask, but Victor looked at it clearly, the markings had changed. The lips were still painted black, and the tears dripping down the left side of the face were still there, but an odd new marking, the hinting at a second tear from the right eye, was new.

Shaper looked up, and blinked, his eyes weren't focusing correctly.

"I'm sorry..." he said, and then for the second time in as many nights, fell flat on his face in the street.

When he woke up, he was stripped to the skin and bundled in blankets, lying on his bed at the apartment. He could hear a soft mumbling noise in the other room, that after a moment he identified as Victor. Who from the smell of things was cooking something, or at least trying to. Dawn crept in under the shades, and he blinked, confused.

Groggily, he sat up and looked around. It took a few minutes for him to recall where he was, and why he was here, as well as how he'd gotten here. Then Shaper half slid out of bed, fumbling at getting dressed in cleaner clothing. He chose a fishnet shirt, and pulled on a sleeveless tee over it, the one with the funny tribal designs on the chest in silver he'd always liked. And then his boxers, and a pair of leather pants.

At least he muzzily recalled he'd gotten pretty messed up last night, remembered vaguely why his head hurt so badly, and a whopping huge slimy feeling for hitting Victor.

Barefoot, he made his way into the kitchenette, and blinked.

"Uhm... about last night..." the rizen started to say.

"Ffht," Victor said, gesturing over his shoulder with the kitchen knife. "Coffee's over there. Wake up, then I'll chew you out."

"Ugh... alright. What's for breakfast then?" he asked, trying not to sound like the whipped dog he felt like, and tried to be cordial. He poured himself a mug of coffee as he waited.

"Omelets," Victor said, scooping the onions he'd be chopping into the waiting skillet of bacon fat and stirring.

"Uhm Victor?"

"Shhh. I'm cooking."

"I know you're cooking, that's what I'm confused about."

Victor looked over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow. "I'm getting the feeling I'm very stereotyped as a helpless bachelor."

"Helpless? You?" hooted Shaper, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You're right, I'm never helpless, unless someone hits me from behind." Without turning around to see his roommate's wince, Victor dumped the bacon bits and peppers into the pan. "But I'm sure you had a good reason for that."

Shaper sighed, it shuddered as he drew in breath again.

"I... I had to burn Merrill's remembrances out of my brain last night. Apparently whatever is inside the mask was tied to him, and when I learned too much about who I was, it tried to take me over. The mask was trying to help Charon re-create my demise again... and short of letting it, I fought it for all I was worth. I didn't want you to see me do that, nor did I want you close enough that if things went wrong you'd get hurt by me. But I beat it. So it's over now. All we need to do is get rid of Charon, and whoever's left of his groupies. And I'm sorry I hit you, but it was all I could think of to do before the mask made me tear your head off and chew you into bloody little mouthfuls last night."

Shaper sighed raggedly again, and slipped into a chair. The coffee cup was slid aside, and he lay there, arms on the table, and head pillowed on his arms, refusing to look at his friend.

Unsure if they were still even that anymore.