It was almost three a.m. when Angel returned to the Hyperion. He, Gunn, and Faith had been on their routine patrol. Cordelia hadn't had a vision that day, so the three of them hit the usual vamp haunts and did some slaying. Most of the night was spent at the Catrais, trying to convince demons to stop by the Hyperion and listen to what they had to say.

Their little army was growing daily. Harry had become a permanent fixture of the hotel, stopping by three times a week to help deal with new demons. A lot of the cross breeders were terrified of what would happen if demons once again were the majority species. On the one hand, they would be free to move around; on the other, most demons scorned cross breeders or any kind. So, they decided to fight against pure chaos.

Angel went upstairs to his and Xander's room. Xander was asleep, nestled deep inside the covers. Spike was gone. Hallelujah. He had been a fairly regular presence in Angel and Xander's bed since Buffy's death. It had hit everyone hard, but Xander and Spike took it the hardest. Xander had only left the room a few times in the last three months; Spike occasionally went out to find fresh blood (in his depression, Angel knew he had taken to killing again, but not often), but he always returned within a few hours. He and Xander spent their days staring at the television, occasionally talking, or sleeping. Angel and the rest had tried everything they could think of to snap them out of their depression, but finally were giving up. Before she returned to Sunnydale, Willow said to give them time.

Angel changed into clean clothes and leaned over Xander. His skin was flushed and lips parted. He looked tempting, but was, Angel knew, unavailable. He sighed, his heart aching, and pressed his lips to Xander's forehead. He knelt by the bed, resting his head next to Xander's body, listening to the mortal's heart beating steadily.

Xander's toys were gathering dust. When the mortal had brought his variety of action figures and comic books, it was with the understanding that Angel didn't dust toys. But now... he hated the mess and Xander wouldn't touch them any more, not even his special Captain Kirk collector's item. Angel pulled a rag from under the bed and walked around the room, lovingly dusting off the objects the boy loved so much.

Buffy's picture, however, was already dusted. Xander even replaced the flowers in front of them twice a week, although Angel still couldn't figure out where they came from. He had ordered no one to buy them; if Xander wanted flowers, Xander could get them himself.

Yet, twice a week, there they were.

The vampire left the room. He wasn't tired, and didn't want to sleep. Instead, he went downstairs, zapped some blood and made tea. Pouring the tea into Wesley's special mug (Ewen MacGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobie) and the blood into his own mug (Batman), he went back upstairs and knocked softly on the sorcerer's door.

"Come in," was the reply.

Angel entered the room.

Wesley was laying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. One hand rested on his stomach, fingers tapping a restless rhythm; the other was flung out over his head. In the dark, Angel could see the covers had been kicked askew, and a pillow was on the ground "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you." The sorcerer sat up, turned the night light on and took the proffered tea. "You okay?"

Wesley shrugged. "I'm both exhausted and extraordinarily hyper. Fighting took a lot out of me, but the power... it was incredible. I can feel the difference." He rubbed his chest. "I'm sore, though; I can't say the absorbing part is particularly pleasant."

Angel sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "Every bit helps. According to the news, over two thirds of the city fell ill this time; there's no way to cure the disease, right?"

Wesley shrugged. "I was researching it, but couldn't find the book I needed. I'll look more tomorrow. But I'm not optimistic. I think we can pretty much count them among the fallen."

"Fuck. At least we're down a major demon."

"Yes, thankfully. Still, I'm getting worried about Azazel. He still hasn't appeared in L.A., yet the other two have. What is he hiding from?"

"Maybe you."

"Maybe. But then why-"

"Wes, it's too late for this. I want to relax." Angel took a drink, shifting until he was comfortable.

"Sorry. How was patrolling?"

"Fine. It's going to be hard until Graham heals; Spike finally left the building. I hope that he'll be ready to go out with us again soon."

"And Xander?"

"Well, he did leave the building today. Cordelia made him go with her to get donuts for the shelter. He and Spike have a pact: if one goes out, the other has to go out too. So, what usually happens is that neither leaves." He took a long drink of blood, then closed his eyes. "I feel like I'm losing him, Wes. I don't... I don't know what to do. I want him back and he, he took her death so hard. I just," he broke off, slamming his mug on Lindsey's night table and sliding down on the bed, fists clenched and covering his eyes.

Wesley reached out and stroked the vampire's hair in a comforting gesture. "Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes. He won't... He either changes the subject or completely ignores me. He doesn't even write anymore."

"Perhaps you should call Willow. She is his best friend, maybe there is something she can do or say. Tara is coming back down this weekend; we can ask Willow to come with her."

"I miss him, Wes. I feel so fucking stupid. He's right there, cradled against me every night, but he's so far away. And I feel guilty because sometimes I just want to flip him over and fuck him. What kind of monster am I?"

Wesley gently traced Angel's eyebrows. "You're not a monster. You're just frustrated. After almost one hundred years of celibacy, over that if you count your stint in hell, you finally get to make love with someone you love, only to have them completely cut off from you. If he were talking or acting otherwise normally, you wouldn't feel this way. Or, at least, you wouldn't feel so guilty about it."

"I'll call Willow tomorrow." Angel opened his eyes and looked up into Wesley's blue ones. "Tell me everything is going to be all right."

The sorcerer smiled. "Do you mean with him or the war?"

"Xander. It has to be all right with the war. We have no other option than to win."

"I'm sure it will all work out. He has you and your love, plus us, his family. He'll come out of it, soon, I hope."

"Thanks. Try and sleep."

"Don't wake me tomorrow. Tell Lindsey I'll call him when I wake." Wesley asked. Lindsey usually called every morning around nine; Wesley knew he wouldn't be up by then.

"No, I'll let you sleep, don't worry." Angel leaned over and kissed Wesley's forehead. "Sleep tight."

"Thanks."

The vampire left.

*****

After Angel left, Wesley lay back and tried to sleep. It was impossible. He was simply too restless. Already the covers were completely in disarray from his tossing and turning. He was usually a very calm sleeper, no matter what Lindsey claimed. But tonight... the day had just been too much.

Sighing, he rolled over to pick up a book when his entire body sized. It felt as if a large weight had slammed into his body, pinning him down. He tried to get a breath and channel his power, but he couldn't. Restless though he was, Wesley was also exhausted and didn't have the energy to do magic.

So, he lay in bed, gasping for breath, his chest aching from where the energy had hit him earlier, head aching from the demon induced seizure, completely miserable. He felt helpless, much like he had as a child, or the few terrifying months when he had no idea what was wrong with him and assumed the worse. Now, it was worse. Wesley knew he had the ability to fight it, but his body was protesting and refusing to obey him. So, he could only allow the demon to affect him.

Closing his eyes, he forced what little energy he had out of him and into the surrounding air. There was nothing - no rip, no distortion, no unfamiliar presence. The demon, therefore, was not near the hotel, but was in the city.

There were only two demons powerful enough to affect Wesley with their presence and not be near him: Lilith and Azazel.

Abruptly, the pain eased. Wesley found he could breath again, although his head was still pounding. Whatever the demon had been doing, he or she hadn't been there long. There was nothing anyone could do about it now. He would wait until the next morning to report it unless the demon returned.

The phone next to his bed rang. Wesley reached over and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Are you okay?"

Wesley smiled. "Yes, Lindsey, I'm fine."

"What the hell was that? I could hardly breath."

"Demon, powerful. But it didn't attack me; it was just in town. I had one of my little episodes. Sorry, I didn't realize you'd be able to feel it."

"Yeah, baby, 'cause I'm real pissed at you," Lindsey said, his voice losing the edge of frantic worry. "How have you been?"

"Well," Wesley started. He explained everything that had happened that day, starting with the outing to the beach and finishing with Angel's worry about Xander. Then, after a slight pause, he asked, "There is something else. Do you promise you won't be mad at me?"

"For what?"

The sorcerer took a deep breath. "I was wearing you Sith Academy shirt and got demon blood on it. It's soaking in the bathtub, but I don't know if it will come out."

"Wesley! That's my favorite shirt! I don't think I can get another one. Dammit."

"Are you really mad?"

Lindsey laughed faintly. "No, I guess not. I'd rather have you than the shirt. But it's close, you just came out ahead."

"Oh good. I was worried there. I've been concerned all day that you would leave me because you'd be so angry." He smiled as Lindsey's laughter floated over the line to him. "How have you been?"

"Today was a fantastic day. Huge groups were seeking me out and really listening. I actually stopped a mini-battle today."

"How?"

There was a slight hesitation, then, "I walked out in the middle of where they were fighting and started talking."

"You what?"

"I had to make them notice me. So, while they were firing at each other, I walked out there. They stopped to listen to me. They knew who I was."

"You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I was protected."

Wesley fell back against the bed. "Christ, Lin, if you keep doing things like that, people will start thinking that you're the Messiah or something."

"Naw. If I had been hit and not died, then they might think that. I make sure to tell everyone I'm just a Prophet, not a saviour." He paused. "People are listening, giving up their old feuds and stuff. I'm not exactly saying demons, but I talk about other enemies and having faith. Actually, they're bringing up demons on their own; I'm careful to explain the difference between a good demon and a bad. They trust me. And, they pray. The Powers are suddenly very keen on everyone praying and stuff, they just don't care to whom people pray."

"Eden said that faith, any kind of faith that is directed at the powers of good and peace, strengths the Powers that Be." He paused. "Today, when Oz was attacked, some of the people at the store helped defend him. Just pulled their guns to defend a complete stranger. I wonder if the Powers had anything to do with that, or if they just wanted to help."

"Does it matter?'

"Yes, it does. If they did it to help without interference, then perhaps people are really wanting to help. We have demons volunteering to fight, but not many humans. It's a pity; it's their lives at stake, their world." He sighed. "It's all so much. Do you know when you're coming home?"

"No, I don't."

Wesley closed his eyes. "I want this to end. I want this to never have begun."

"Me too. I want you, by the way. Every night I think of you. I think of... of your lips, how soft and silky they are against mine. And I think of kissing you, probing your mouth with my tongue, then trailing kisses down your chin to your chest. Then, I'd kiss down your chest, pausing at one of you perfect nipples, sucking it and teasing it with my tongue, licking and biting until you do that little gasp thing. Can you feel that?"

"Yes," Wesley answered back, his eyes falling shut.

Lindsey continued to whisper seductively over the phone line, arousing Wesley to no end. This was not the first time they had relieved their mutual sexual yearnings for each other over the phone. Every time, it got a little more intense. Wesley often could feel Lindsey lying in bed with him, performing the actions he spoke of. The sorcerer put it off to some form of sense memory, but still, when he opened his eyes, he could almost see the shadow of Lindsey's head and body bending over him instead of Wesley's own hand.

He gasped. "Lindsey!"

"Come for me, Wes. I want to hear you come."

Wesley closed his eyes to the ghostly image, pumping once more with his hand, and came. Over the line, he could hear Lindsey as he came too.

For a long moment, they lay there, panting, listening to each other. The sensation of Lindsey's body pressed to his, a moment ago so real and comforting, faded.

"I miss you so much, baby." Still breathing heavily, there was a tinge of sadness to Lindsey's voice, as if he too had, for a moment, felt Wesley with him.

Wesley sighed and rolled onto his side, his hand reaching out to touch the pillow on Lindsey's side of the bed. "I miss you too, Lindsey. And I love you."

Angel slipped into bed next to Xander.

"You smell like Wesley," the mortal said.

"I didn't realize you were awake." Angel turned on his side.

Xander was facing him, his eyes open, face serious. "Yeah; I had a dream so I woke up. I was wondering where you were."

"Couldn't sleep, so I went to talk with Wes."

"You sleeping with him?" The tone was completely non-accusatory; somehow that hurt more than if he had been angry.

"No, of course not. Why would you think something like that?"

Xander rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head, gazing at the ceiling. "I haven't been very available lately, and his lover is gone. It seemed like maybe you'd turn to each other for comfort."

"Okay, first of all, Lindsey would kill me. He would hunt me down, castrate me, and then string me up by my insides."

"No he wouldn't. All he wants is for his baby to be happy." Xander's voice was vaguely mocking.

"Second of all, all I want is you and if you aren't ready, then I just have to deal, then, don't I?"

The mortal was silent for a moment. "Are you angry at me?"

"No. Just worried." The vampire touched his lover's shoulder tentatively. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Abruptly, Xander turned into Angel, burying himself in the vampire's broad chest. "Just hold me?"

"Of course, Xander. Always."

*****
Part 15: The Proposition

"Hey gorgeous."

The vampire turned dropping the drained body he had been holding in his arms. "Who the hell are you?"

Lilith, dressed in a tight blue leather dress that showed her figure to perfection, walked up to him.

"A friend. I have a friend who wants to talk to you."

"I've never seen you and I don't think I want to talk to your friend. So sod off." He turned away.

The demon pressed herself against him. "I think you should talk to him. I think you're in a lot of pain and want to forget that pain. Isn't that why you just killed that girl? Didn't it feel good? And it's been so long. What are you going to do now? Go back to the souled Warrior with human blood flowing through you, or come with me, and talk to someone who can make you pain disappear?"

"Maybe I don't want my pain to disappear."

"Just five minutes," Lilith lied. "That's all he needs."

Spike turned and hit her. Lilith crashed into the wall. "I said no. Sod off, bitch."

"Fine, do it the hard way. See if I care." Lilith flung her arm out in an almost casual gesture, effectively paralysing Spike. Then she opened the dimensional portal. Tugging on Spike's invisible bonds, she said, "Come on through."

"What the fuck?" Spike tried to fight her, struggling against the bonds, but she simply walked through the tear and he floated after her.

* * *

Azazel watched as his demon army went though their fighting practice. When they first arrived, all had wanted to simply fight each other to the death in an unorganised manner, completely missing the point of war. Since then, he had found demons who understood the need for some order and control, training his army to attack as a unit before overwhelming the humans with sheer strength and numbers.

"Excellent," he said.

The demons stopped their manoeuvres and turned to face him.

Azazel took his hat off. Today, it was dark blue and black, with a blue carnation pinned to his lapel. He and Lilith were color coordinated to impress their imminent guest. "I am heartened, really. You came to me, a rag tag, sloppy group and now look at you. You're a team. You understand what I am trying to do. I am not attempting to annihilate humanity; I am attempting overthrow the very order of things. Once upon a time, demons were the dominant species of this world. Then, one day, The Powers That Be," he spat the words out, "The Powers That Be changed all that. Since then, we have been forced to hide ourselves from the humans. Why? We are the stronger species. We scare them. We have the power in us; they have the power over us. Why? Why have we been reduced to slinking in the shadows, hiding from the world we once owned?

"I'll tell you why, my friends. Because of The Powers That Be. They have the authority so they empower the humans, giving them leverage over us. Warrior, Prophets, Slayers - beings who keep us enslaved. Humans, mortals, are weak and yet they rule. Not any more. Soon, soon we will have enough power and we will force the humans into the shadows. Soon, demons will once again walk free and unafraid, not needing to hide our faces. We have already killed the most powerful Slayer who has ever lived! We have succeeded where hundreds have failed. And why?" He paused to light a cigarette. Taking a drag, he looked out at the crowd, his eyes bright and piercing. "Because of you. Because of your dedication to the cause, we have already made the first step on the road to victory. To freedom.

"Continue your training, my friends, and I shall continue with my plans. If you do not fail me, I promise you, I will not fail you." Lifting his cigarette to his lips again, he smiled, saluted to the commander of the army, then turned and left.

Lilith was waiting in the antechamber, a sullen looking Spike sitting on the floor.

"Wonderful. You brought him." Azazel snapped his fingers. The vampire's bonds fell. "Lilith, please get some fresh blood for our guest."

"Yes master." Lilith bowed slightly then left.

The demon circled Spike for a moment. Spike stared straight ahead, not taking any notice of Azazel.

"Would you like a cigarette?"

"No. What am I doing here?"

"I'm sorry. I'm being dreadfully rude. I am Azazel and I've been dying to meet with you, Spike. Can I call you Spike?"

Spike locked his stormy blue eyes on Azazel, realization dawning. "You're him. You're the one who killed her. You bloody bastard!" he howled, launching himself at the demon.

Azazel stepped back. Spike stumbled, caught himself, and then kicked. The demon knocked his leg down, cracked his elbow into Spike's head, knocking him to the ground. Placing his foot on Spike's side and grabbing his arm, twisting it tightly, he said, "Please, let's not do this. I can crush you with no trouble at all. You don't want that, I don't want that. When I let you go, you will rise and behave, got it?"

The vampire, wincing in pain, grunted his agreement.

Azazel let him go, stepped back and smoothed his clothing down. "Love the duster, by the way. Brilliant touch. Really makes a statement."

"What do you want?" asked Spike dully.

"Spike. Look at you. You're a mess. You're roots are showing, your skin is dull, you just don't have that vibrancy I've always seen in you. And, yes, I have been watching. You are quite an interesting character. But now... all the life - excuse me - the unlife has been sucked right out of you. And why? Because I killed your lover. And who was your lover? The Slayer. The Slayer, Spike. Your born enemy. Why?"

"Well, she's was gorgeous. And when I got that chip..."

"Oh, fuck the chip. You were sweet on her before that. You loved her and you are a vampire. A soulless beast." Azazel sat down in his throne like black chair. "Do you want to know why you are the way you are?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Why you can love? That's not something a normal vampire can do. Angelus didn't love; Darla didn't love. Face it, Dressily didn't love either. Lust, yes. Desire, yes. Enjoy company... maybe. Love? No. But you. You love, Spike, really, truly, deeply with the dead heart that doesn't beat in your chest. That's why you're dying now. Angel can love now because he has a soul. You don't have a soul and you've been torn apart. You, you shouldn't be like this but you are. Do you want to know why?"

Spike had turned his head and was looking at the demon. He shrugged. "Why?"

"Angel. He did this to you."

Spike blinked and shook his head. "I don't follow."

"You were his experiment. He wanted to know if it was possible to make a vampire who could experience and exhibit the most human of all emotions. So, he taught you to love. He worked on you until he had a baby vamp, with deep, true, loving emotions. Nature vs nurture: the eternal debate. And the verdict is? If you train a vampire to love, he can overcome his nature. It's Angel's fault that you feel as if your heart's been ripped from your chest, not mine. If he had just left you alone, you would have fucked the Slayer a few times, then killed her once the chip was out and you were bored." Azazel rose and went over to Spike. Standing behind him with his hands on the black leather duster, the demon brought his lips to Spike's ear. "I can take the pain away," he whispered. "Join me and you can do whatever you want once demons are in control. I can teach you how to be cold, unfeeling, responding only to base desires without the pesky emotions to get in the way. I can free you, Spike, free you and make you into the type of vampire you were meant to be."

"What's the catch?"

Azazel stepped back, keeping is body close enough for Spike to feel the heat on his back. "I need a way to see into the Hyperion. The Powers are blocking my view. You will be my spy and when the Leviathan is free and demons rule the earth, you can do what you want, change who you want, kill who you want. Well, everyone you want, except for most of your team."

"Most?"

"I hear the red head witch makes a kinky-ass vampire; you can do her, andmaybe the black warrior and maybe, possibly, the seer. But the rest pretty much have to go."

"What about Xander?"

Azazel stepped away and walked back to his throne. "No. You care for him. The point is to get rid of the feelings, right? So, no Xander. What do you say?"

Spike shifted his weight from foot to foot, biting his lip uncertainly. "Can I think about it?"

"You have a week. Take this," he tossed a compact thing, similar to what he'd given to Lilith. "When you have your answer, press the green button and it will bring you here. But it will only work when you're not at the hotel. Otherwise, you may be killed."

Lilith walked in with a young blond boy. "Fresh blood."

"Spike, you hungry?"

Spike glanced from Azazel to the boy, then back. Shrugging, he walked over the boy, vamped out, and sunk his fangs into his neck. After he was dead, Spike pulled back. "I'll talk to you in a week."

"I'll be waiting." Azazel lit another cigarette, stretched his legs over the arm of the chair, and pulled his fedora over his eyes, signalling the end of the meeting.

*****
Part 16: Time to Heal

"What are you doing here?" Xander asked, exiting the bathroom into his room.

Willow was sitting on the edge of his bed, her light purple dress swirling around her legs. "Angel called. He wanted me to come out with Tara this weekend, but when he told me that you're still hiding in here, I drove out."

"I don't want you here. Go away." Xander snapped, crossing his arms over his chest, looking determined.

"No. We need to talk," she replied softly.

Xander shook his head. "I don't want to talk. I just want everyone to leave me alone."

"We can't, Xander. We need you. Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

He shrugged.

"You are being incredibly selfish. You are killing Angel; he doesn't know what to do. He has waited so long for you, just like you've waited forever for him. He told me that you were afraid that you were going to lose him to Buffy, but, instead, he's losing you to her. You couldn't have chosen a more effective punishment."

"Is this supposed to be making me feel better?"

Willow shook her head. "No. The time for making you feel better has past. The time for getting you to stop being an asshole has come."

"Angel doesn't need me; he has Wesley. I'm just the body."

"You don't really believe that. Angel could never be satisfied with anyone so in love with someone as Wesley is with Lindsey. Sure, they're friends; I don't know how good of friends, or exactly what their relationship is, but I know that whatever they have is not what Angel has or wants with you. You are his love and you are closing yourself off. God, Xander, he loves you so much; all I could see in his eyes when I got here was you. Why are you doing this to him? Why are you doing this to yourself? Buffy died a hero's death; nothing less than she deserved. She fell in battle, defending a cause higher than herself. She wouldn't want you to stop living because she's gone."

Xander walked over to his bookshelf and picked up the picture of Buffy, him, and Willow from when they were in high school. "I woke up yesterday and I felt good," he told his friend, tracing Buffy's face. "I had this line running through my head, begging to be written. I wanted to go to the beach and feel the water. I was swimming the morning we found out, you know; I felt so safe and happy when I was out there. Confident that everything was going to be fine, just like always. Yesterday I wanted to get dressed, go downstairs, kiss Angel and force him up here, not to make love, but just... just to make out or something. I wanted to tell Cordelia a joke, and smile at Eden, and tell Faith I'm glad she's here. I wanted to watch the sunset, pick a flower, listen to music, so many things. But do you know what I did?"

"What?"

"I stayed in here. Because I can do all these things and she can't and it isn't fair." "Xander..."

"Do you remember when we first met her?" he continued, not hearing her. "And Jesse died and we made a pact that we would do annything we could to keep Buffy safe? We were so stupid. She was the Slayer and we were just two clueless kids who had no idea what the world was all about. But, Will, we kept her safe. We kept her grounded here, in this life, and gave her a reason to live. And then, when she died, I wasn't even there. I was here, in Los Angeles, swimming while you were there doing your best to save her, fighting by her side. I wasn't there." He started crying.

Willow rose and went over to him, taking him in hher arms. "I'm sorry, Xander. I'm sorry, but you can't punish yourself for being here. She died so others could live. She died knowing you were safe with someone you love. Buffy wanted that for you. Angel broke her heart, but you... she loved you, Xander. She said it, in front of everyone, remember? "You can really love him," that's what she said. And, she was happy that you were with him because you were her best friend and he had been her first love. When you left, she felt bad; you'd lost so much. When Anya died, Buffy... she told me she wished she loved you in the way you had loved her once upon a time. But when she found out about you and Angel, yeah, at first she was thrown, but then she was happy. She would want you to make the most of the time you have left, not spend it, locked in your room, locked away from those you love and who love you, mourning for her." She wiped her eyes, and gave a small laugh. "Not even Buffy was that self-absorbed."

Xander managed to laugh a little. "It's so hard."

"I know. I miss her so much too. But it's harder if you close yourself off. It's time to heal, Xander, time to move on." She hugged him again and pulled away. "Get dressed and come downstairs. Come join your family."

The author leaned forward and kissed her gently. "I love you, Willow; thanks."

Willow walked down the stairs. Angel was sitting at the bottom, trying not to fidget or move too much. He was watching Wesley, who had finally decided get up, downing aspirin.

"One of the demons came through last night," Angel said as Willow sat beside him.

"Oh?"

"We can't figure out what it did, or who it was. Either Lilith or Azazel, otherwise he wouldn't be sick. He's so worn from yesterday, he's like he was in the beginning, when we didn't know. We thought... we thought he was dying of something."

The vampire looked over at her. "How is he?"

She put her arm around him, hugging him tightly. "Xander's coming down."

Angel smiled. "Will he be okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine."

"Hey, Deadboy."

Angel turned. Xander was walking down the stairs, dressed, looking uncertain.

The vampire rose and held out his hand. "Hey. How are you?"

Xander walked up and kissed Angel. "I'll be fine. I'm hungry."

"Let's go get you food." Hand in hand, Xander and Angel walked down the stairs to the kitchen. For the first time in three months, things were beginning to look brighter.

*****
Part 17: Battle Ground

(three days later)

The phone rang. Xander, tentatively typing on the computer, answered.. "Angel Investigations." His eyes widened. "We'll be right there." Xander slammed the phone down and shot out of his seat. "Cordy's under attack. We've got to move."

"What?" Faith demanded.

Xander was running back to the weapons room. "Someone threw some sort of bomb into the shelter. People are mobbing outside, demanding that Cordelia send the demon kids out. She and Gunn are holed up inside, but they need help. Graham!"

The ex-solider walked out from the danger room. "Yeah?"

"Can you come fight?"

"I think I'm okay." He rubbed the bandage on his neck, then nodded, face resolved. "I'm with you."

Eden, looking odd in a tee shirt and sweat pants, followed him out. "What can I do?"

"Go tell Angel and Spike where we're going. Maybe we can get the kids out through the tunnels; they can meet us there."

"Alright." Eden darted around the group, heading up the stairs.

Xander, Faith, and Graham were loading grabbing the weapons they were most comfortable with.

"Remember, these are humans, so we want to try and get away with not killing."

Graham pulled a stun gun out and handed one to Xander. "I think these will do fine."

Faith was holding a sharp knife in her hand. "I'm better with hand to hand; should I leave this in case...?"

"It's okay, Faith. We have a right to defend ourselves and our own. Try not to kill, but don't let yourself get killed. Let's go." Xander, holding the stun gun across his chest, lead the group.

"Xander!" Angel called, loping down the stairs gracefully.

He turned and caught the radio that the vampire tossed at him. He slipped it over his head, fitting the piece to his ear.

"Keep me informed. I'm coming through the sewer."

Xander nodded. "Got it."

Wesley ran down the stairs past Angel. "I'm coming too."

"Wes..."

"I'm coming," the sorcerer said firmly, tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes were glowing.

The group leader nodded. "Okay then, you're coming. Let's move."

They left the hotel and sped down to the shelter. When they got there, they found utter chaos People were attempting to crawl over police in riot gear and various others defending the shelter, guns and knives out, screaming their heads off. Gunfire was an almost constant sound, complimenting the screams of pain and anger nicely.

"Fuck," swore Xander. "We need to get to the shelter."

"Follow me." Wesley took the lead. He walked calmly, a path clearing for them as they made their way through the sea of people. A few bodies were pushed violently aside, other's simply nudged, and still others moved as soon as they saw him approaching.

The shelter was smouldering, parts of the roof on fire. There was glass everywhere from the blast; one entire section was in ruin.

Cordelia was in the main office. All nineteen of the demon kids currently living in the shelter were huddled around her, crying and holding on to her, Anne - the woman who ran the shelter - and each other. Gunn was crouched in the doorway, a gun drawn, face serious.

"What happened?" Graham asked.

"They want the kids. Because of all the things happening with demons lately, people are beginning to open their eyes. I told you all about how we've been having people coming off the street to ask questions lately," Cordelia started.

"Most of them seem to understand. I try and tell them the truth about our demons, but others... There's a group that's formed, an extremely religious group. I think they led the attack," added Anne. She lightly caressed one of the children's heads.

"We tried to tell them that they're just kids and half human, but they wouldn't listen. Then they threw the bomb."

Faith, who was crouched by the window, swore suddenly. "Someone's coming."

They all turned to watch as a woman rushed the building. "Kill them! They are evil!" she screamed.

Another person flung himself in her path. The woman crashed to the ground. In a frenzy, she began to bite and claw the man. He slammed his hand into her head, knocking her out.

"Wait, what was that? Did he just help us?"

"Some of the people are defending us, but it's not enough," replied Gunn from the door.

"I'm going out," Faith said.

Graham followed her.

"Angel, do you read me?" Xander said into the radio.

"I'm here."

'We need to get out of here, now. The building is falling apart and there's a riot out in front. We'll be coming out through the sewers."

"I'll meet you. Out."

Xander turned. " 'kay, kids, grab hands, we're leaving. Cordelia and I will take the front, Anne the middle, and Gunn and Wes-"

"No. I won't be going out with you," Wesley said, watching the scene in front of him.

Xander looked over at Wesley. The sorcerer was breathing deeply, his eyes closed. "Then what are you going to do?"

The sorcerer turned and looked at him, silver eyes glinting. "Stop this," was the simple answer. He left the room and went back outside, into the fray.

"Cordy, Anne, Gunn? You go; I'll follow."

"Then what..."

"I'm going to cover Wes." Xander walked over to the door. He kneeled, stun gun ready, eyes on Wesley.

Someone launched themselves at the sorcerer, but he easily *knocked* them away with a flick of his writs. It was as if he had a force field around him; no one could get close enough to do anything to him. Wesley walked easily, with grace and dignity, until he was in the middle of the mob.

He raised his arms above his head, and then brought them down sharply.

There was a shockwave that threw everyone off their feet.

"Stop this!" Wesley said. His voice was powerful enough to carry over any noise. "These children present no danger to you. They are half humans, children of demons who have peacefully inter-married with members of our species. They are orphans and runaways - no more danger than any other orphan or runaway. You cannot allow your fear and hatred of the unknown cause you to commit actions that you will regret. We are at war, yes. There are dark forces seeking to overthrow the human race. The time, now, is not to attack those that pose no threat, but to turn our thoughts to The Powers That Be, whatever powers that you believe in, and give them your faith and your strength. Look to the Warriors tofight and defend you, look to us to guide you."

Xander could see the outline of power around Wesley, like a bubble. The sorcerer was floating slightly above the ground, looking majestic and imposing. His eyes were silver and skin translucent, shining like a star, or like an angel in a Renaissance painting.

People began to calm down, blinking their eyes as if in a dream. They looked around at themselves, covered in blood and sweat, weapons in their hands. Then they looked at Wesley.

The silence turned from the silence of the beaten to the silence of those in awe. A few of them bowed, others simply left, running away as the police came to their senses and attempted to make arrests.

The radio crackled. "Xander, what's going on?"

"Wesley," Xander answered back, his eyes trained on the sorcerer. "He just... Trust me. You'll see it on the six o'clock news."

"Hey! Hey you! Wesley," someone was calling.

Wesley was on the ground, his eyes closed, trying to channel some of the power out of him. He felt as if he were going to explode.

"Yes?" He looked up. The black haired man that had defended Oz in the supermarket was walking up with a few others. All had blood staining their shirts.

"Yeah. I thought it was you, man. That was cool, I didn't know you could fly."

"I can't, not always." Wesley rose. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yeah. I'm Raoul; this is Mike and Chung. I wanted to tell you that at first, I heard there were demons here and I was all 'that's not right'. I was going to help kill them because everyone knows that demons are bad."

"Right," Mike said. "Bad. They kill."

"Right. So I was going to help kill them. And then I started thinking that if they were bad, then what were they doing here? I mean, it's a shelter and I heard that they've been staying here for awhile. So, I decided that killing kids, even demon kids was wrong and we were going to save them."

"Good. Wonderful, you did the right thing."

Raoul grinned. "Then, I saw you and the girl and solider dude from the market and knew we were all on the same side. So, what's going on? You said something about a war?"

Wesley looked speculatively at the dark haired man and his companions. "It's difficult to explain things here. Why don't you come to this address," he pulled an Angel Investigations card to and handed it to the man, "tomorrow night. Bring anyone you think might want to help fight for our cause."

"What's the cause?"

"The preservation of the human species."

His eyes widened. "Yeah, I'll come. Thanks."

"Thank you," Wesley said. "You did a good thing today."

"Thanks. See ya tomorrow." He turned with his friends and walked off, talking quickly.

The sorcerer closed his eyes. Just another step on the road to victory. He hoped.

*****
Part 18: Choices

Spike sat on the bottom step, watching everyone. He was chewing his fingernail. He never chewed his fingernails. When he used to get antzy, he would try and chew Buffy's and then she'd hit him and he'd hit her and they'd fight for a bit, then they'd snog, and that would usually lead to shagging. Life had been good.

But she was gone.

Before her, he would smoke. Even after, he'd smoke. Not now. For the past four days, every time he lit up, he was reminded of Azazel. Azazel, with his beautiful eyes, perfect skin, and easy answers. Azazel, with his charming smile, and seductive voice and tempting scent. Recently everything reminded Spike of the beautiful demon, from Wesley's eyes to the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

Spike had three more days to decide what to do. Three days to make what could possibly be the most important decision ever. Once upon a time, he had thought that the most important decision was deciding not to feed of humans so he could be with Buffy. Now, he had to decide whether or not to betray her friends, his sire, to join possibly the most powerful demon ever.

If only he wasn't so beautiful.

The vampire sighed and bit his thumbnail gloomily.

"Wesley, it says that you said you were God."

"Angel, that is a tabloid. They will say whatever they want. Besides, they got a picture of me flying; what else where they going to say?"

"Do you remember saying anything that would make them think you said you were God?"

"No, I don't. Besides, the regular newspaper doesn't say that."

"Yes, I know. But really, my point is after your little spectacle, using magic, floating and, according to Xander and the L.A. Times, glowing, you've invited people here."

"So? People have come before. We're trying to recruit."

"To fight, not to worship!"

Wesley stopped, crossed his arms across his chest, and glared at the vampire, his mouth set in a determined manner. "What would you have me do? I had to stop them and that was the only way I knew how. I didn't mean to make myself out to be some form of deity."

"You were making prophecy's. Telling them about dark times and to turn their eyes to The Powers? Those are charged statements."

"Well, those weren't my words," the sorcerer admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I think they were Lindsey's."

Angel cocked his head. "Uh-huh. And how does that work, exactly? You know, with him being not here and all."

"I don't know, I just know that I was guided somehow, pushed. That's how I knew I could stop the riot; I was told to. And when I opened my mouth to speak, I could... feel Lindsey with me, talking to me. I could feel his breath on my neck as if he were whispering in my ear." "Has this ever happened before?"

Spike watched as the sorcerer turned bright red. He grinned, enjoying the man's sudden discomfort.

"Well... I guess... once or twice, but only when... um, well, only recently since... well, since he's been away. When he calls, sometimes..." Wesley trailed off.

The vampire looked down at Wesley, amusement evident on his face. "Why, Wesley Wyndam-Price, you and Lindsey wouldn't be having phone sex, now, would you?"

"That... that's none of your business. The point is, what happened did so for a reason. And now we may have followers."

"And we may have human enemies. Anne told me about the religious group. What if they come here next?"

"We'll manage. Besides, we're not doing anything wrong. One has to be trained to see that you and Spike are vampires without your demon visage, Anne and Harry have taken the children out of state, so they won't be found here. All we are doing is running a business."

Angel gazed at his companion for a moment longer, then shrugged. "I hope you're right. The last thing we need to do is piss the religious community off because The Powers That Be decided to 'guide' you."

"We'll be fine. We always have been before."

The phone rang. A moment later, Cordelia called, "Wesley! Lindsey's on the phone."

"Excuse me."

"Try to keep your hands off yourself; our guests should be arriving soon..."

"I hate you," was the sorcerer's parting shot. Spike cracked up.

Angel turned his attention to his childe. Studying him silently, he walked over and sat on the step next to Spike.

"You look good. You've re-done your hair. Is that a new shirt, too?"

"Yeah. I figured I was tired of looking like a mess. Might as well make myself up to be the gorgeous vampire I was born to be."

"Uh-huh. Any special reason?"

"What d'you mean?" Spike glanced at his sire nervously.

"What's going on, boy? You've been moping in the depths of despair for three months, never smiling, never nothing and suddenly, you're whistling, dressing nicely and acting like you're on the top of the world. You've even been, God help us all, singing. Show tunes. I understand healing, but you're like a completely different person. What aren't you telling me?"

Spike looked at Angel, then down. "I'm killing humans. I didn't want to tell you 'cause I figured you'd be angry at me."

Angel put his hand on Spike's neck and squeezed, a gentle warning. "I know you've been killing humans; you've been doing that for two months. I can smell it, remember? I want to know why suddenly you're acting like you're trying to impress someone. Have you met someone? Tell me."

"I don't want to. It's my secret." Spike looked fiercely into Angel's eyes, trembling with fear.

The Warrior glared back, then shook his head. "Is it Xander?"

Spike blinked in surprised. "No; he's yours. I just... I like him all right, but don't want him or anything. I'm just... just in a good mood, that's all."

"Spike, you are still my childe and still under my control. If you don't want to tell me voluntarily, fine, we can do it the hard way. Maybe I won't be as rough on you as the old days, but I can make sure it's not pleasant. And trust me, if I find out that you are doing anything that will hurt anyone in this family, that includes you, boy, I swear I will-"

"Whoa, Angel, calm down," Xander interrupted, entering the main lobby. He walked over to them, sweating from his work out session in the danger room. "What's going on?"

Angel glanced at Xander and eased his grip on Spike, face relaxing. "Nothing. I just was trying to clear things up with Spike."

The mortal put his hand on Spike's shoulder. "Clear things up with him? What'd he do? Spike?"

"Nothing, mate." Spike mumbled. He didn't want to tell Xander; he'd grown fond of the boy during their months of depression.

Azazel had said he wouldn't be able to turn the boy, or anyone he cared for.

Xander squeezed his shoulder. "Then what's with the threatening?"

"He's hiding things."

"Well, we all have our secret's Deadboy. Like the fact that you went into Wesley's room and played with his "Star Wars" toys for about an hour yesterday."

"What?" the blond vampire looked up at the mortal.

"He even pulled out the x-wing fighter and Death Star models that Wes thinks we don't know he has; made the little shooting sounds and everything. And lets not forget what he did with the Obi-Wan and Maul dolls."

"Bloody poof," Spike managed to get out through his giggles.

Angel shook his head. "Xander, you are so dead."

Xander darted back as Angel reached playfully out for him. Spike pushed Angel away and leapt to his feet. The older vampire picked Spike up and tossed him; Spike flew across the room and hit the ground. The portable dimensional gate Azazel gave him fell out and slid across to the door where Wesley had just emerged.

The sorcerer picked it up and immediately shuddered. "Spike? Do you want to tell me what this is?"

Angel looked at the two of them. "Wes?"

The sorcerer was examining the object. "There is something extremely dark about this. Spike, where did you get it?"

Spike gazed guiltily up at Wesley. "I don't know?" he answered, his tone making it a question.

The door opened and Raoul stepped in. "Are we in the right place? Oh, hey, Wesley! I brought some friends."

"We'll talk later," Wesley remarked mildly, slipping the compact in his pocked. "Raoul, welcome. Please, join my group through here. This is Angel, our leader and Warrior for The Powers That Be. That's... Oh, wonderful. Oz, this is one of the men who helped defend you."

Oz entered the room, leaning heavily on Graham. He had been out only a few times since being injured, spending most of his time recovering in bed. He smiled at Raoul. "Thanks for helping save my life. I really appreciate it."

"I'm glad I could help. Never fought demons before. Did I do all right?"

"I'm not dead; that's good in my book."

Raoul grinned. "Thanks."

"Let's go into the war room. Angel and I will explain everything in there." Wesley lead the group in.

Spike followed behind, dragging his feet. They were going to find out. Maybe that would make his choice easier.

The last of the people left, talking amongst themselves. The team watched them leave, the sat around the lobby, exhausted.

"Well, I think that went well," Wesley remarked.

"Yeah, I guess. I just hope they don't start going out without us," replied Angel.

"They promised not to. Besides, after awhile, they'll be trained enough to patrol and judge the danger themselves. Graham, are you sure you are up to training all of them?"

The solider, who was holding an exhausted Oz protectively between his legs, nodded slowly. "I think so. I was never the one giving orders when I was with the military, but I basically have an idea. Riley always said I would have made a good leader. Wish he were here, though; it would help a lot."

"Whatever happened to Captain Cardboard, anyway?" Spike wondered aloud.

"Injured in the line of duty. He lost his leg and left. I tried to keep track of him, but he pretty much disappeared. I left soon after; I was actually in L.A. looking for him when I was attacked and joined the team."

Oz reached up and caressed the side of Graham's face. "Joined me," he murmured.

Graham turned his head into Oz's palm and kissed it gently. "Yeah; joined you."

"I'll help to. I don't have any military experience, but I did a lot of research on tactic planning and stuff for my stories," Xander put in from his position on the floor.

"And I know something about where these people come from. They aren't military, they're street. You all speak a different language," said Gunn.

"Good. So everyone has a job and our army is now bigger," Angel said. "If that's all, I think it's time for tonight's group to head out on patrol."

"Wait. Spike, what was this?" Wesley pulled the communicator out. "I have a feeling this may be important enough to bring up to everyone."

Spike looked down at his shoes. "I don't suppose you'd believe that it's a toy?" "Not with the energy radiating off it, no. Unless Satan recently became a toymaker."

"Spike?" prodded Angel.

The blond vampire sighed. "Azazel gave it to me." There was a heavy silence.

"Do you want to run that by us again?"

He glared at Angel. "The other day one of the demons, Lilith, I guess, came to L.A., tied me up, and took me to see Azazel. He... he wants me to spy for him."

"Spike, you realize this is the guy who killed your girlfriend, right?" Cordelia told him.

"Yeah, I know. But he told me that he could take the pain away. That you," he pointed at Angel, "made me all different from other vampires and made me all soft and that he could teach me not to care so I won't hurt. All you do is give pain; you leave, and you love, and they die, and you never bothered to tell me that's what happens. So you get to hide from everything and I've got to feel it and it's not bloody fair! So maybe I don't care that he killed her because he promised to make the pain leave."

"And you believed him?" asked Xander.

The blond crossed his arms across his chest tightly. "I don't know. I haven't decided what to do. I've got a few more days before I have to tell him." He looked at Xander seriously. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but I don't want to hurt. I hate this; everyone has some one and I'm all alone, again, because my girlfriend got killed."

"This isn't the answer. You're not alone, Spike; you have us," Xander replied.

Spike could feel tears welling up, but he forced them down, refusing to be any more weak than he already was. "It's not the same. Everyone here is part of a couple, except maybe the Doll," he pointed to Eden, "and even she hang's all over Slayer the Sequel and Wolf -Oracle. I'm alone. I hate being alone. Except for when Buffy was with Riley and Dru dumped me, I was only alone for a few months, and some of that time I had Harmony. I... I'm not good at this."

Angel rose and walked over to his childe. Hugging him tightly, he whispered, "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have done what I did, but it's in the past. I can tell you right now that you, as you are, for all the pain, are one of the most important people, ever, in my life. That's how you got to be my favorite childe. But Spike, I'm serious, I love you, but I will not allow you to betray us. Do you understand?" He kissed Spike's head lovingly.

The blond melted into Angel, hiding his face. "I don't want to betray you. I just want to feel better."

"This isn't the answer."

"Angel?" Faith said suddenly.

"Yes?"

"What if he pretended to join Azazel? I mean, we need information on him and what he's doing. We could, I don't know, come up with stuff Spike could tell Azazel and then he could report back what he sees or what Azazel tells him."

Angel was looking seriously at Faith, his arm still around Spike. Glancing down at his childe, he said, "Would you want to do that? It's a risk, but it would help."

Spike gazed at his sire, then over at Xander and the rest. "I, I could try. Do you really trust me to do it?"

A silence settled on the room as everyone looked at each other. Spike shifted his weight, feeling as if he were on skid row and the jury was deliberating.

Finally, the verdict was in.

"Yes, we trust you, Spike," Wesley answered, his eyes serious and piercing, as if he could see into Spike's demonic soul. He held the communicator out. The blond vampire took it. He was looking for something solemn and appropriate to say. All he could come up with was, "Thank you."

*****