demonbelthazor | Private

Belthazor shimmered quietly into the room he shared with Phoebe. She was deep asleep, fortunately, allowing him to avoid awkward questions. He went into the private bathroom and shut and locked the door, then peeled off his shirt to look at the wound Angel had given him. Deep, but luckily the athame had missed anything vital. The bruises and scrapes would heal quickly, but this wound would take some time without magic or a visit to the clinic. Magical healing meant Illyana, and she'd tell Beka. The clinic was out of the question. He'd have to deal with this on his own. So what else was new?

He wadded the bloody shirt up into a ball and stuffed it in the bottom of the trashcan, then stepped into the shower to let the hot water wash away the blood. After drying off he taped gauze over the wound, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped back into the room, where he pulled on a pair of black silk pajama bottoms to hide the gauze from Phoebe should she wake.

He sat down at his desk and looked over at Phoebe, sleeping peacefully in their bed. How could he do this without causing her pain? He didn't want to hurt her, but he had promises to keep to Angelus, duties he'd sworn to perform. He had to keep everything secret from Phoebe. From everyone. There was no one he could trust anymore.

Protect Phoebe, keep her safe. Restore Angelus. Somehow he would find a way to do both.