The Mighty Belthazor

"I called Angel," Bel said, eyeing the pillow again and debating another smothering attempt. "And I talked to Isabel, who probably thinks I'm crazy."

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Phoebe felt her heart sink. "You... you told Angel... how you felt about him..."

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Anders glanced over at her, biting his lip. "Did we frak up?" he mouthed.

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Fortunately, Bel didn't see Anders do that. "I called him," he said unhappily. "I told him . . . I think? Okay, maybe not the exact words. But I thought he understood." Then again, this was Angel after all.

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Phoebe looked unhappy, too.

"So... you told him you loved him..."

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Anders tried to reach for Phoebe's hand. "You did, didn't you?" he asked Bel.

Maybe it had just been the spell? He was kind of hoping that was the case, even if it meant that what Bel had said to him . . . well.

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". . . maybe?" Bel said. "I didn't use those words. What the hell was wrong with me? I would've never done that. And I don't remember getting gremlin bit."

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Phoebe did let Anders take her hand, but now it was her that buried her face under the pillow with a moan.

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In stereo, too -- because Anders was doing the same thing.

Just in case it wasn't clear that maybe something was up.

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Bel eyed them both. ". . . what?"

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Phoebe whimpered again. "It wasn't supposed to cause... and we didn't think it would..." She choked slightly. "We wanted you to talk to us about your feelings... not everyone else..."

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"We frakked up," added Anders from beneath his pillow. "I swear, all I wanted to know was how you felt about me, not . . ."

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Bel stared.

"You two cast a spell on me?" he said quietly.

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"I did," Phoebe lied softly, not wanting to get Anders or Savannah in trouble. "I thought that if you... that you would be more at ease with us and expressing yourself... and..." Phoebe closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

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Anders didn't want to get Savannah in trouble, but he wasn't about to let Phoebe take all the heat for it, either.

"It was my idea, though," he said miserably. "I'm the one who wanted to know so bad. I talked her into it, and . . . it's my fault, okay?"

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Bel pulled away and got up from the bed, stalking across the room and pulling on some clothes. "I can't believe this," he muttered.

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Phoebe had tears in her eyes.

"Cole... I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to talk to everyone about how you felt. You've been so tense and..." She swallowed. "I thought it would help if you relaxed and talked to us more about... about stuff."

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Anders buried his face in his hands. "Didn't mean for you to go and embarrass yourself," he protested. "I just got tired of . . . look, I was being selfish, okay? This wasn't what I wanted to happen!"

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"I thought the days of people making me do things I didn't want to do were behind me when I left the Underworld," Bel snapped. He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but he was pretty overwhelmed with confusion at the moment.

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Phoebe felt like she had been slapped and her face went pale. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that..." That thought hadn't even occurred to her and it just made her feel even worse. "I'm sorry," she choked out.

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Anders wanted to throw up, himself. "It's my fault," he repeated, which was difficult when his throat was getting so tight, and oh hell, he was going to cry any second now, wasn't he?

"Not what I meant to -- we didn't think."

And sure enough, there were a couple of telltale drops of moisture on the pillow now.

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"I need to get out of here," Bel said, shaking his head. He gave the two of them a last conflicted look, then shimmered out of the room.

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Phoebe watched him leave and then buried her face in her hands, crying.

She hadn't meant to hurt him like that.

"We hurt him..."

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Anders wrapped his arms around her. "We frakked up," he said thickly, crying pretty freely himself by now. "We frakked up bad, Phoebe. We gotta fix this . . . what are we gonna do?"

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