Azazel was watching the dimensional window, enjoying himself as the battle in Buenos Aries wound down. They had done well, his troops. The goal had not been to devastate the entire city; Las Vegas had just been to show off his power. This was simply to wreak some devastation, give some of his more restless troops a chance to fight, and remind the world they were still in danger.

And that they still were doomed.

"Really, Master. 'Evita'?" Xavier said, entering the room

Azazel grinned, ground out his cigarette and turned. Wiggling his hips to the music, he said, "What? You have something against Madonna and Andrew Lloyd Webber?" He danced across the room, enjoying the waves off despair emanating off his servant. Stopping in front of him, Azazel asked, "Would you rather me listen to 'Jesus Christ, Superstar'?"

"Your guest would certainly find it more appropriate."

"Spike as Judas? Interesting comparison. But really, he's not handing anyone over to me, now is he? No, he's just giving me some little tidbits of information. Harmless, really, when you think about it." He sang a few lines from the song playing, then stopped as his servant's face grew desperate. "Fine, Xavier, music's gone. Happy now?" The demon snapped his finger, pouting as the soundtrack abruptly stopped.

Xavier breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, master. Our troops are returning."

"Good. Send in their reward... You did find the humans I asked for, right? They are picky about their human sacrifices."

"Yes, two hundred red haired women under the age of twenty-five." He sighed, rubbing his temples wearily. "I hate their gods."

"Yeah, it's a bitch. At least they didn't have to be blond virgins over the age of seventeen; I got to participate in one of those once. First, blond virgins over the age of seventeen?" Azazel laughed. "That only took a few months to find. Then, they just gutted them - no sex! I mean, that is a waste. All those virgins and no one bothered to relieve them of their virginity before they died. Well," he ammended, "no one was supposed to, that is." He lit another cigarette. "Send a few of the units to Moscow."

"Moscow?"

"Yes. Spike told me that there was a demon-expert training people out there. I checked in on him and he's pretty good. Former watcher teamed with a former military man whose unit was eaten by a giant snake. They've been training people for years; Moscow's been overrun with vampires for a while. They like the vodka, I understand."

"Who wouldn't?" Xavier replied.

"Oh, I know. Anyway, tell them to open the portal just outside the city and storm in. Mass destruction is fun, but they don't have to level everything. I'd like someone to actually contact L.A. about the attack, if possible. And... send someone to the Prophet, just to tail him. I'm not ready for him yet, but I want people watching him, ready to take him out as soon as I need him."

"Are you sure it's wise not to kill him while he's away?"

Azazel looked at his servant. "What? Are you afraid he may return to L.A. and fuck his love before you get a chance to? Afraid he'll taint the sorcerer and make him impure?"

"The man is far from pure; I don't know how much more soiled he can get."

"But still, you'd like to keep him away from the Prophet, just in case you get a chance to play with him. You know, the Powers that Be seem to think the Prophet is a pretty neat guy."

Xavier's countenance darkened. "They've made mistakes in character before. Look at the history books; many of the great Warriors and champions of justice and light were dirty, disgusting, and sinful."

"That's according to the human religion, not necessarily to what the Powers actually think."

"They thought you were clean."

Azazel grinned and saluted Xavier. "True. Then again, perhaps the Powers care more about actions than some metaphysical idea of cleanliness and purity. That seems to be your hang up, my friend, not theirs." A light began flashing at the edge of the dimensional window.

The warlock crinkled his nose in disgust. "Speaking of impure things..."

Azazel bounced up and down, clapping his hands. "Spike's back. Oh, goody good, I'm going to get lucky."

"Is it really necessary? The hours you spend with the vampire can be spent more productively, I am sure."

"Xavier, are you criticizing me?" The demons countenance was suddenly dark.

Xavier flinched, but stood his ground. "I know that even you, master, have your needs, and I thank you for never asking me to satisfy them, but he is a waste of time and energy. The time you spend in bed with the vampire could be spent in battle or in preparation of the Great Day."

"And here I thought that you were the brilliant one. Out of all my servants, you were the one with the brain, the one able to divine my true intentions and aspirations for this campaign. And you're questioning me. About Spike. About my motives. You are sitting in judgement of me. You are actually attempting to tell me that you know a better way. Telling me that I, the master, am doing something wrong. You, my human servant, are judging me! You fool!

"Do you think I want to fuck him? Do you think that I live and breath for the moments he is here? Do you think I actually *trust* him, that I trust that he's not acting as a double agent and telling his friends anything he may learn here? Do you think I am that stupid?" Azazel was livid, his eyes burning with inner fire, looming over his servant.

"No, master," the warlock whispered.

"Good." His voice was low and dangerous. "However pleasant it is having a Spike-induced orgasm, I can live without it. In fact, if it weren't necessary, I would forgo them. I have to make him completely enthralled with me; he has to need *me* more than anything else: his friends, blood, darkness, whatever. I must be first and foremost out of everything. It's a spell, one that no one but someone with the amount of power I have can perform. It is one of the gifts of being a semi-deity, a true Immortal. I bind him to me through sex and he will be my slave. And the best part is, the sorcerer can look through any book he wishes and he will never find mention of it."

Xavier knelt, his head bowed. "I am sorry to have doubted you, Master. Please forgive me."

Azazel walked away, pulled another cigarette out and lit it. After meditatively drawing on it for a few minutes, he turned, feeling calmer. "You are a good servant, Xavier. Everyone is entitled to one moment of intense stupidity, even you. You are forgiven. Go and complete your tasks; if you wish, you may go to Moscow and participate in the battle."

"Thank you." Xavier rose, bowed, and left.

Sighing, Azazel walked down the hall. Spike had just entered the compound.

"Spike!" he greeted jovially. He walked up and put his hand on the vampire's chest. "Have you done what you promised?"

"Yes, I went into the basement and found the orbs. They're just little balls, like bubbles, that glow. I could feel something coming from them, but don't know exactly how it all works. I could ask."

"No, it's all right. I think I can figure it out. Spike, you are a god, really. Now," he leaned over and kissed the vampire, plunging his tongue into the cold mouth, teasingly caressing his flesh though his clothes.

Spike groaned into Azazel's mouth.

Pulling back slightly, the demon began tugging Spike towards his private chambers. "Let's get down to business."

*****
Part 24: New Ally, Old Fears

"Okay, so Moscow wasn't really all that bad. The resistance there was able to kill a lot of the damage and most of the buildings and stuff survived," Cordelia reported.

"Yes, but over half the city was killed," Wesley replied.

"Compared to Vegas and Buenos Aries, that's good news," the seer said.

"She's right. We know now that we can cut losses down. However, there are still many cities that are undefended. It seems like Azazel is just going to start attacking randomly; we need to find away to be prepared." Angel walked over to the bulletin board, gazing at the figures.

The population of the world was declining rapidly. There were demon attacks happening all over. Once Azazel and his army made the news, forcing the public to admit to existence of them, many of the more hostile demons felt there was no more reason to hide. They began slaughtering humans and each other, bringing their private wars to the forefront. Most of the attacks had no connection with Azazel, unless he was secretly encouraging them, acting as a catalyst as they suspected he had done the night of the mob.

Azazel's battles were always well organized and efficient, even though his choice of cities seemed a bit random. The majority of attacks usually started in bars or parks or other places demons usually frequented, beginning small and escalating as fear and mob rule took control.

To make matters worse, many humans were going out and attempting to deal with the problem themselves. Most of the religious leaders of the world preached against this; Angel Investigations and the other bands of resistance had the full backing of the majority of religions. It helped that Wesley had a tendency to glow like a celestial being when faced with speaking to a crowd and that Lindsey's heavenly guards were now visible to everyone. According to Oz, the guards would be to each individual what they believed their god would send for protection; The Powers were all-inclusive.

Lindsey had been asked to speak many places since making his name known as a prophet. Since the night of the mob and Las Vegas, people were also turning to Wesley for advice and messages of hope. He and Lindsey often connected now to speak words and made compelling arguments that were almost continually being broadcast around the world. The Prophet and the Sorcerer were becoming household names.

Wesley hated it. He was almost always on the phone with someone or other, asking for advice, wishing he could hide. Angel felt bad for his friend. After so many years of obscurity, he was being forced to not only come out of his shell, but become a source of inspiration and hope to millions.

"Stop looking at me, Angel, you are making me nervous," Wesley said, breaking the vampire's reverie. "We were talking about Azazel."

"Yes, I know. If there was a pattern..." he trailed off. No use going over that territory again.

"This is so impossible," sighed Willow. "We don't even know how many demons he has in his army. And the rogue demon bands tend to need specialized spells to defeat. Most people aren't prepared to defend themselves against something like that." Willow ran a hand through her hair. "Maybe... you know, there are a lot of Wiccan meeting places on the net. Tara and I should go on and try and get support."

"And tell them what to do," added Tara. "Some of them know the spells in theory, but have never actually gone up against anything."

"Well-" Cordelia started, before gasping in pain, grabbing her head.

Wesley and Gunn were closest. They reached out to her, allowing the seer to dent their flesh with her nails as she went though the vision.

"You okay?" Angel asked quietly when she was done.

She glanced up and shook her head. "Yeah. There's a group a demons in the sewers, peaceful looking. A group's going to attack them."

"One of ours?" Graham asked, rising.

She shook her head. "No; remember our friends from the mob? It's the ones who refused to join us. You know, the one's who bombed their own church 'cause they were mad at their pastor."

"Great, they're always fun," said Angel, his tone heavily sarcastic. "Graham, Gunn, with me. We'll be back later."

The three men began walking through the lobby towards the darkening night, Graham leading, Angel and Gunn close behind. They were at the door when it opened.

Graham stopped dead in his tracks. "Riley."

Riley Finn, a backpack slung over his back, scars etched down the side of his face and down his neck, stopped just inside the doorway. He smiled at his friend. "I heard there was a war going on. I thought I'd drop by and see if I could help."

* * *

"Daniel, if you keep glaring at your food, you'll scare it," Eden said, walking into the kitchen.

Oz looked up. "What?"

She smiled patiently at him. "You just look so angry. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You know, you've never out and out lied to me before. You must be comfortable with me now." She poured herself a drink and sat down across from him. "What's the matter?"

"I don't want to talk about it, all right? I'm dealing."

Eden blinked, her concentration inward. "He's not going to leave you for that blond man."

"Stay out of my mind! God, Eden you... you... That's just rude. I hate having someone able to read my mind. I never do it to you."

"Maybe you should sometime. That isn't a... what it's called? A come on. I just mean, well, we are going to be around each other for a long time; it would help if you didn't hate me. And maybe if you would look inside my head once in a while, you wouldn't hate me."

Oz sighed. "I don't hate you Eden. And you've gotten a lot better since you've come to live with all of us. But, it's so invasive. It's like, if someone can read my thoughts, then do I even really exist? I exist in my head, but if you can read what's going on, then maybe I don't exist, but I'm just an extension of you. Or the other way around."

"You exist, Daniel Osborn. And we're linked, but we're still separate. Would you say the Prophet and Wesley are one person?"

"Kind of, actually."

She smiled. "So would I. Bad example."

Oz took a drink of his hot chocolate then shook his head. "They were so close," he finally said, looking up at here. "Graham was in love with him, although he never told him. And now he's here. I just... maybe he should be with him. I mean, if he wants Graham. Maybe, since they can grow old together-"

"It's always the same thing with you, even before," interrupted Eden gently. "I... I used to watch you all when I was in the temple, listening to what you all said and what you, Daniel, didn't say. You, who are so confident and sure of yourself, are so afraid of abandonment, afraid that he's going to leave. And no matter what he says, you still have this fear. Don't you get it? Graham isn't going anywhere. He loves you. The growing older thing is your hang up." She cocked her head. "Is it... Are you afraid that you're not going to love him when he's old? That it'll disgust you or something?"

"No. No, that doesn't even matter; I don't care. I'm afraid of growing dependant on him, used to him and then he'll leave me, angry that I don't age. How can he know how he'll feel in the future? I mean, right now we both are relatively the same age, both look young, so it's fine. But in ten, twenty, thirty years, I'll look like this and he won't. And by then I'll be so completely and totally in love with him, used to waking next to him every morning, knowing what he'll do and say, all the little things that happen when you're in love, and then he'll leave. I'll be alone, with you and the Powers and that stupid temple, knowing he's in the world somewhere, hating me for being forever young." He rubbed his forehead. "And the worse thing is, it'll be so easy to hide after that, stay locked away in the temple, pretending the world doesn't exist."

Eden got up and hugged her partner. "He's not going to leave you, I promise. Besides, that guy isn't here for Graham and if you would open your mind just for a second, you would hear that. Love is always a risk, but don't get hung up on things you can't change and don't know will happen for certain. Don't worry about it, just live."

"Why are you being so nice to me? What happened to me being foolish for doting on transient beings? And what about the whole consort thing?"

"I'm stuck with you for eternity. I can wait for that whole 'consort thing.' Besides, I understand now about caring for the mortals. I like everyone here and wouldn't leave them for anything. Thank you for making me come here."

Oz smiled up at her. "You're welcome."

Graham walked in then, bruised and battered. "Hey. You two look cosy." He walked over, kissed Oz on the head, squeezed Eden's shoulder, and sat down.

"Oz needed to be yelled at and I was the only one here."

"What's going on?"

The Oracle shook his head. "Nothing, she took care of it." He got up and wrapped his arms around his lover. "I love you."

Graham kissed Oz, holding him tightly. Eden knew he understood what his boyfriend was going through. She watched the two of them for a moment, feeling oddly lonely, the quietly left them, giving them their privacy.

*****
Part 25: Unexpected Savior

Spike leaned against the wall, chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes trained on Riley Finn. Captain Cardboard, the vampire had called him once. A long time ago, in a different life. That had been back when Spike had first realized he was attracted to Buffy and had been frustrated that not only did she hate him, but she was dating Riley Finn.

Riley Finn, Initiative solider. He had always been around. Always there in his all goddamn glory. A cross between Buffy's innocence and grace and Angel's size and inner majesty. Riley, with his intelligent eyes and hopeful smile. Riley: that itch Spike never got to scratch, that urge he'd never gotten to satisfy.

Harmony had been a substitute for not one but two blonds for a long time. Until Spike had gotten rid of one.

It had been a choice Spike had been compelled to make: Buffy Summers or Riley Finn. The woman born to kill him or the man trained to hate him. Both were equally beautiful and alluring and equally unattainable. In the end, Spike had realized the boy was too much in love with Buffy to notice anyone else. Especially a vampire.

So, Spike had chosen Buffy and gotten rid of the solider.

"I saw the reports on Las Vegas. I thought of you, Angel, when they started talking about Angel Investigations, but I wasn't certain it was actually you. Then the dreams started."

"Dreams?" asked Graham.

"Yeah, dreams telling me to come here. I tried to ignore them because I figured there wasn't much I could do if it came to a fight." He smiled with easy, self-deprecating humor, gesturing to his prosthetic leg. "But the dreams were pretty insistence." His intense eyes settled on Spike a moment then slid back to Angel. "So, I packed my belonging and came out here."

Angel nodded. "We're glad you came. We need all the help we can get, especially someone with your experience."

"Thanks."

Gunn checked his watch. "Tonight teams should be showing up soon. We're supposed to take team E patrolling."

"Ok, then, why doesn't someone show Riley a room he can stay in and-"

"I'll-" Willow started, but Spike cut her off.

"I'll show him."

Everyone looked at him in surprise. He glared back at them. "What?"

Angel shook his head. "Nothing. Ok, so Spike will show Riley a room, and- Oh, make sure you get sheets for him, Spike; they're under the stairs."

"I *know* where we keep the bleeding sheets, Peaches."

"You would never know from the state of your bed," his sire shot back.

"Angel, you're fighting a losing battle," Xander said. "Spike's never going to change his sheets and if you keep harping on it, you are never going to finish your sentence."

"Fine, go show him a room and everyone else get ready to train. Riley, when you're settled, feel free to come down and join a group."

"Sure thanks." The former solider rose, picked up his backpack and turned to Spike. "Lead on."

After getting the sheet, Spike led Riley to the elevator. He couldn't look at him, although every nerve was painfully aware of the soldier's presence. He wasn't beautiful anymore. There were faint scars on his face, and a lot on his neck and hands. He wore long sleeves so Spike couldn't see anymore of him, but he knew there were more. He'd overhead Graham telling Oz a bit of what had happened to him, how after going back to the military, Riley always put himself in danger, always barely escaping with his life. The scars were both testaments to his bravery and his stupidity.

But that wasn't why Spike couldn't look at him. He couldn't look at the other man because it hurt too much, knowing that once again there was someone so close that he just couldn't have.

"You can have this room. Faith and Eden are down the hall, I'm across from you."

"Thanks. So, how have you been, Spike?" Riley asked casually, following him into the room.

The vampire walked to the bed, thowing the sheets on top. "Okay, I guess. I..." Spike stopped suddenly and turned, a thought occurring to him. "Cor... You don't know, do you?"

The eyes gazing into his were innocent and guileless. "Know what?"

"About... about..." Suddenly, Spike couldn't bring himself to say her name. All those months of hiding, he'd hardly said it and now he was stuck with the task of telling her lover what had happened. "I..."

The solider stepped closer to Spike, placing his hands on the vampire's biceps, his warmth seeping even through the leather. "Buffy's dead, I know."

"How?"

"Willow told me while we were waiting for Angel to come back." His eyes clouded. "I'm sorry; I know how much she meant to you."

Spike laughed bitterly. "You're apologizing to me? I bleeding stole her fromyou, exposed what you were doing to get her mad enough to leave you. All I wanted was her and you're saying you're sorry?"

"Did you make her happy?"

The vampire blinked, taken aback by the question. "I think so."

"Did you love her?"

"Yes," the vampire whispered.

"Thank you for taking care of her when I couldn't. Thank you for making her happy. And... thank you for saving my life."

He stared into Riley earnest eyes in disbelief. "What? Saving you life? I, I didn't do it for you. I only did it to make her mad."

Riley cut in. "I was trying to get her to notice me, to get angry enough with me so she would somehow force me to make tough decisions, only I was too much of a coward to do anything productive. I slunk around, slowly killing myself, wanting her to find out and stop me but to afraid to let her. You did it for me. I was trying to kill myself; I was so messed up and confused. She was my star and even she had ceased to be able to guide me correctly. It wasn't her job. If it hadn't been for you, I'd be dead and I don't want that. Not now. So, thank you."

"I didn't do anything worth being thanked for," Spike said roughly, pulling away. He sat on the bed, head in his hands. "I'm a bad, evil creature. She should have staked me, Angel should stake me. I, I don't do anything right."

Riley kneeled in front of Spike. "It's okay, Spike, it's okay. I have a message for you."

"What?" He looked up.

The solider took Spike's face tenderly between his hands and kissed him.

Spike's senses went immediately into overload. The kiss was sweet and tender, gentle yet full of passion. The man's lips were warm and insistent, alive and solid under the vampire's own. He tasted of mint and humanity and salt and a thousand things that Spike couldn't even begin to describe. He was warm and alive and so very, very real in the vampire's arms.

Spike whimpered when Riley pulled away. The soldier's eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily.

"Wow," he whispered. He leaned in again and brushed his lips over Spikes briefly.

Spike pressed forward, wanting to lose himself in them again, but the man pulled back.

"Wait, I've got to say something."

"One more," Spike whispered, capturing the sweet lips again, plunging his tongue into the mortal's mouth. He wrapped his arms around Riley, feeling safe and warm.

Deep inside him something loosened and broke free. For the first time in am little over weeks, Spike felt sane again.

"Okay, Spike, let me talk, then I promise we can do this more. God, you're a good kisser." Riley grinned. "The Powers sent me here, like I said, but what I didn't say was those dreams I was talking about? They were mostly about you. The Powers are worried about you, Spike."

"What? Why do they care about me? I'm just a vampire; don't even have my very own soul like Angel does."

"No, but you're special. You've got human feelings. Something happened when Drusilla made you. You were her first childe and because she was both a seer and insane, well, you came out different. Angel had nothing to do with it; he thinks he did, but he didn't. He only recognized that you had something in you that made you special and nurtured it, encouraged it. And now, you're fighting on the same side as The Powers. They're worried about you. You're spying on Azazel. He's seductive and fascinating and seems to know everything. But he doesn't love, Spike. He will never love you and whatever he promised you isn't real. He may take you into his bed and make you feel needed and cherished, but all he is doing is using you. When you have served your purpose and are of no more use to him, he will drop you. You will be left all alone, with no one to care for you, your friends dead, in a world overrun by demons who won't be able to understand the humanity in you. You don't want that."

The vampire opened and closed his mouth a few times, wanting to deny everything the solider had said even while every word was resonating with truth inside him. Finally, he managed, "No, I don't want that." Spike shook his head. "But, I'm not really spying for him - I'm only pretending."

"Yes, but don't you find yourself accidentally telling him things you aren't supposed to? Letting information slip, seeking out information that he wants in return for being with him? Don't you crave him when you're apart, count the days until you can return, find it hard to concentrate? Don't you live for his smile and his praise? Isn't your world made complete when he's inside you?"

Spike couldn't meet Riley's gaze. Instead, he looked down. "Yes," he answered, ashamed.

Riley kissed his head. "It's not your fault; he's casting a spell on you through sex and promises. I'm here to break it."

"How?"

"By offering myself to you. You don't have to accept now; the hardest part is supposed to have been defeated already. You kissed me and admitted what he's doing. Part of the bond is broken."

"Why you?"

He shrugged. "Well, because I'm ready for you, I guess. I want you. The last time we met, I was in love with Buffy and pretty much convinced you were a soulless monster. That didn't make me any less attracted to you, but it was sufficient reason not to pursue anything. Now? I'm single and my mind's been changed. Whoever is up there knew how I felt and decided that I should come and try to help you." He rose. "Now, I understand if you don't want me. After all, look at me." There was no self-deprecating humor in his voice and eyes now, just sadness. "I've got scars over the entire length and breadth of me. I'm more scare tissue than not. I've been bitten, stabbed, shot, sliced, mauled, and electrocuted. My leg was ripped off by some sort of sea demon and I never even learned what kind. I have nightmares a lot and tend to be an insomniac. And except for my face... well, lets just say I'm not as pretty as I once was. Most people don't want to touch me." He laughed, a slightly bitter sound. "All this and I was sent to you to break a spell being woven by a beautiful demon over another beautiful being. Me. But I have to try."

Spike gazed into Riley's eyes, unsure of what to say. He'd always been a lover of beauty; Riley was scarred, damaged. That made the vampire angry, not disgusted. How could anyone touch such a work of art and maim it?

He rose and put his arms around Riley. "It doesn't matter," he said, before kissing the man deeply.

The tension fled the soldier's body as he melted into Spike. They stood there for a long moment, revelling in the touch, before Spike pulled back. "Bloody hell! I forgot. I told him about the Oracles. I need to tell Wesley."

"Let's go," Riley answered, his face grim.

Spike took his hand. "He's going to kill me."

"Well, then the spell will be broken anyway, won't it?" He grinned. "It just won't be as fun." Hand in hand, the two men left the room, heading to report to the sorcerer.

*****

Azazel stood in his temple, gazing at the orb. Like the temple under Wolfram and Hart had been, this one was made entirely out of black volcanic rock. The orb, hanging over the altar, was much larger, pulsing and dancing with power. It filled the demon, intoxicating him with the promises held within in.

"Can you feel that, my love?" he asked Lilith. "The power, the raw energy, the promise. Thousands of years of suffering solved with one little idea I had. This. Gather power, release the Levaithan, overthrow the Powers, rule the world. It will be spectacular." Azazel's eyes were shining, reflecting the light from the orb.

"It will be wonderful. A world full of demons, us in charge, the way it should be. The way it was before human took over." She gazed over at him. "When we are on top, I will worship you forever."

He reached over and gently caressed her face. "As well you should. Xavier, I need..." He broke off suddenly, stiffening.

"Master?"

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, double fucking fuck!" Azazel turned from the orb, his entire body tense, and his countenance dark. "I'm losing Spike. Something - some one - is breaking my bond. We need to step matters up. Lilith, go get the Prophet. Xavier, we need to prepare to send the troops out." Azazel, his servants following him, left the temple.

"Are you sure we are ready?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course we are ready. It was going to be within the next few days anyway. I just don't want anything to happen to the Oracles. I want them, at least one of them, to add to the collective. Even if something happens, the mass deaths should add enough power to our cause, plus weaken The Powers. We'll have the Prophet, so the sorcerer will be our easily. It just needs to be soon." He lit a cigarette. "Oh, and people? Image is everything; look nice. Go. I need to prepare."

*****
Part 26: Azazel Begins

"Angel, I wondered..." Wesley began, walking down the stairs. Suddenly, he stiffened, his breath catching, and fell, his face slamming into the banister.

"Wesley!" Cordelia exclaimed. She and Angel dashed to him. Angel caught Wesley as he tumbled down, stopping his decent.

He held onto the sorcerer tightly. "Wes? What's wrong?"

"Did he hit his head?" Xander asked.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Cordelia reached out, stroking his hair, feeling for any bumps.

Wesley was gasping softly for breath, saying repeatedly, "No, no," in a small, frightened voice. Angel could see him drawing into himself, his eyes screwed tight, expression getting more and more distant.

"Wesley? Can you hear me?"

Cordelia suddenly cried out in pain, her body jerking. A moment later, she grabbed Wesley. "He's not dead!" she gasped out.

"What?"

She looked at Angel and Xander. "Lilith got Lindsey, but he's not dead. Wesley? He's not dead."

The sorcerer stirred and sat up. Angel could see a bruise purpling on his cheek where he had hit the banister. His eyes were frightened and he pressed himself against the vampire, as if trying to assure himself that he was still there.

"I know; I can still feel him, very faintly. It was just so sudden. One moment he was there and the next..." He trailed off, looking lost and scared.

Angel tightened his grip. "What happened?"

"All I saw was Lindsey being taken through some sort of hole or something by Lilith. The Powers saw it and wanted Wesley to know he was alive. And... it's a warning.

Wesley nodded. "Yes. If he's been taken to Azazel's dimension then perhaps something is going to happen soon. He didn't kill Lindsey, so he must be using him for something."

"Maybe to get to you."

"Perhaps. But I thought he wanted the Oracles. He was asking Spike about them..." Wesley's voice trailed off as he became lost in thought.

Riley and Spike exited the elevator at that moment. Angel blinked; they were holding hands.

Okay...

"I've got something to say," Spike announced. "I accidentally, kind of, told Azazel about the Oracle's power source. I went down there to see, then told him."

"How did you get down there? Wesley, I thought you had some sort of protection spell thing up," Cordelia said.

"I do. Did. I took them down so Tara and Willow could get down there and we never put up new ones. Dammit."

"What can he do with the information?" Angel asked.

"The power sources are still separate from the Oracles; he could simply steal them, however, he didn't ask Spike to do so. I think he probably still wants the Oracles dead. I don't know how he will do that; he can't come in here."

"Maybe he's getting read to attack," said Xander. "You know, come here with Lindsey and his army, distract you, and kill everyone."

"Wes, if he were to come, would you be able to fight? I mean, all those demons," the seer asked.

The sorcerer thought about it, then nodded slowly. "Every time I've been around demons lately, I've only been given a moments pause, except for when Lilith came a few weeks ago. But that was different. I was exhausted already; in battle situations I'm fine. I think I'm powerful enough to withstand the effects."

Angel rose, lifting Wesley with him. "Cordelia, Xander, get on the phones and start calling all the teams. Cordy, you've got local, Xander, the rest of the world. Tell them that there is a chance Azazel will begin his final offensive today and we want to be ready. Everyone else, get weapons and everything. We need to prepare."

For a long moment they looked at each other, the grimness of the situation settling over them. Then, they all went to their tasks.

"Daniel" Eden whispered.

Oz looked up from sharpening his sword. "Yes?"

She walked into the room further, feeling nervous. "I have something for you. Tara and Willow did a new protection spell. It's a mixture of herbs trapped in a bubble. Here. You wear it around your neck."

"Thanks. You okay?" he asked, taking the leather pouch and putting it around his neck. "I'm a little nervous."

"Yeah, me too. We'll be fine. We've got to be. We cannot lose."

She smiled faintly. "Do or do not, there is no 'try'. Or in our case win there is not failing." She sat down next to him. They were in a room on the second floor, facing the street. "I just want to say again, thank you. Without you, I never would have met Faith or Wesley or the Prophet or... or anyone. And, if I had been killed, my death would have been meaningless because I would have had no ties to make it meaningful."

Oz leaned over and hugged her. "You're welcome."

Later that night, Wesley was pacing in the kitchen. Lindsey's presence kept flickering inside him. The sorcerer didn't know what that meant. What he being tortured or hurt or... or was he simply fading in and out of consciousness?

"You aren't dead, you can't die," Wesley whispered fiercely. "You promised to return to me. You fucking promised. It will not end like this."

"You okay, Wes?"

He turned. Faith had just entered.

"Yes, Faith, I'm fine, I suppose. Going a bit crazy with worry, but fine."

Faith walked up and put her hand on his shoulder. "Lindsey will be alright. He knows that if anything happens to him, you'll hunt them down and hurt 'em. And he loves you; that's real powerful."

"Thank you."

"Listen, you're wearing yourself out. Angel is worried about you. Hell, I'm worried about you. I mean, if you're my Watcher, and if you're falling apart, what am I going to do?"

"But, Faith, I'm not really-"

"No, you are. You were my Watcher and you will always be my Watcher. You earned it, that position of respect and, and love. Thanks." She leaned up and kissed his cheek quickly. "The Oracles are upstairs; they fell asleep. Angel wants you to go up with them, so you're all together. Get some sleep. We'll wake you when the fun starts."

Wesley reached down and caressed her cheek. "I will. Thank you." He kissed her forehead, then left.

*****