Alastor gave a grunt of surprise as he ended up flat on his back, Angel draped on top of him. His eyes turned to radio dials as he panicked.

Too much physical contact. Way too much. The spiders were back, writhing beneath his skin. His entire body seized as he stared up at Angel, grin widening to impossible proportions. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, dammit!

"Angel...kindly get off of me. Please." Alastor's tone was tense, rigidly controlled.