Wesley woke suddenly, gasping for air. A massive weight slammed into him.

"Sorcerer! I want to talk to you!" a voice outside the Hyperion called.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, drawing energy into him. The weight eased and he found his breath. Wesley rose. What time is it?" he asked, glancing over to see Oz and Eden were awake.

Oz checked the clock. "One."

Wesley nodded and walked to the window. "He's outside." He opened the window and leaned out.

On the street, standing on some sort of platform, was a figure the sorcerer could only assume to be Azazel. He was dressed all in black, a fedora perched on his head. The only touches of color on his clothing were a red rose pinned to his lapel and a red pin stuck in the band on his hat. He stood in the centre, flanked by Xavier and Liltih, arms crossed causally, looking up at Wesley as if he knew exactly where the sorcerer would be.

Slightly behind Xavier, dressed in dark red Prophet robes, his hair mussed, face dirty and scratched, eyes defiant, was Lindsey. His hands were bound in front of him. He stood proudly, like a king, gazing ahead. His eyes flicked briefly to meet Wesley's before resuming his straight ahead gaze.

"Ah, there you are. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Azazel." The demon swept off his hat and bowed. "Why don't you and your friends come down? Feel free to erect something to protect you. I don't mind. It's just awkward talking like this." He grinned. "Too much like serenading a princess in a tower."

"I'm coming," Wesley answered. He pulled away and began walking downstairs.

"Wesley, I don't think-" Oz started, but Wesley cut him off.

"I'll be fine. You and Eden need to stay inside. Do not come out, no matter what."

Angel, Graham, Gunn and Faith were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Tara and Eden were at the door, gazing out. Cordelia was making calls, gathering their teams.

"Wesley?" said Angel.

The sorcerer closed his eyes briefly. "It's safe to go out. The barrier extends about a few feet in front of the courtyard entrance. You'll be able to see it. If anyone goes past it, Azazel and his army can touch you. Stay behind it and you are safe. I want to know his game before we do anything."

"Understood."

Spike and Riley came out of the kitchen with Giles.

"Giles, stay in here with the Oracles, Willow, you too. Tara..."

"I'm with you," the sorceress answered. Her eyes, like Wesley's, were glowing with power.

The team stepped out of the building.

"Lovely; you're all here. No, wait, you're missing some. Let's see, the Watcher that we met in London and the pretty red head. Both Oracles, of course and... Where's your seer? I want her out here too."

"Why?" Gunn demanded.

Azazel smiled, his eyes hard. "Humor me, papa." At Gunn's growl, Azazel rolled his eyes. "She's pretty; I want to see her. Christ, do I have to have a reason for everything?"

Cordelia stepped outside. "I'm here." She glanced over at Angel and gave a discrete thumbs up; she'd called them all.

"Good, we're all set. Now, I'm sure you know why I am here. I have no illusions that once my spell was broken, my little fuck-buddy told the information he gave me. By the way, Spike, nice to see you." He cocked his head, staring at Riley. "Is *that* what you left me for?" Azazel shook his head sadly. "I am disappointed, Spike, really disappointed. Look at him. He's all... weird looking. He's got scars everywhere, I'm told. And you left me for him? You that you left me: perfection. Me: beauty. And most of all, me: eternity. I will last forever, I told you that. I will forever look the way I do now, forever be what I am right now. Not even the Powers were able to mar me; they call me a demon but look at me! I am flawlessly eternal. He is not. He will die, Spike, die. Do you understand that? After tonight I will help rule this world and he will be dead. You're going to be alone." The demon suddenly appeared mere inches from the barrier, smiling at Spike. "Let me guess," he continued. You were told that I was only using you and that when the Leviathan was free, I would drop you. That's not true, Spike. I was planning on keeping you around for a long time. You, my friend, are wonderful. You're a good fuck, so eager to please, willing to do anything for love. I would have kept you around for years, leading you along, giving you just enough so you would stay, just enough for you to be happy. Just like she did: Drusilla. I took a page out of her book. "How To Make Spike Do Anything You Ask". Chapter One: Make Him Feel Loved. It was so easy. But you gave that up for the Frankenstein wannabe right there. He, who will soon be dead. I know you haven't slept with him yet; I still have some control over you. So, Spike, admit it. Tell us all how you really feel about the bag-o-scars right there."

Spike, who had been gazing at Azazel, trapped by his eyes and voice, glanced over at Riley. The solider was stiff, his eyes pained, staring right at Azazel solidly.

"I'm angry," Spike answered. His words were loud enough for everyone to hear, but Wesley could tell his words were directed at Riley. "I'm angry because you used to be gorgeous, you had a body that was a work of art. Once upon a time, I loved art; as a human, I studied sculptures and paintings for hours, trying to figure out how to capture such beauty myself. Then, as a vampire, I spent a lot of time trying to kill it or fuck it. But... I killed beauty keeping it intact. I could never destroy it. I am pissed off as hell that anyone, anything, would ruin such a perfect piece such as you. But I'm not disgusted. And most of your beauty, that inner thing that you and Buffy shared, is still there. An' I still want you as much as I did back in Sunnydale."

Riley looked over at Spike and smiled. He leaned over and kissed the vampire. "Thanks."

"Oh, how touching." Azazel's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Anyway, back to the real point. I want the Oracle's power. Well, really I want them dead, but that doesn't seem to be happening. I've tried, but everything keeps getting fucked up. So, sorcerer, a trade."

"Yes, a trade. One Prophet for one Oracle with two power orbs. That's all. It's a fair trade. After all, contained within the Prophet is both his energy and your focus. You are more powerful because of him. So, one body, two powers in him, one body and two powers to me. I'll make it easy for you. Send the boy out. What's his name?"

"Oz," Spike supplied.

Azazel grinned. "See? Still under my power. You should have fucked him when you had a chance, solider boy, broken the bond entirely." He walked a few steps away, lighting a cigarette. About halfway between his platform and the barrier, he stopped and faced Wesley. Taking a drag of his cigarette, he looked at the sorcerer seriously. "Right, so send out Oz. You all hate the girl, and if I know my heroes, you will therefore sacrifice the one you like to prove that you aren't mean, heartless bastards."

"Wesley, don't."

"You shut up, Prophet. I've been listening to you talk for months: 'Oh everyone, pray, be nice, don't trust Azazel.'" The last part came out in a high, whiny voice. Azazel spat. "Jerk. Wesley - can I call you Wesley? - the Oracles, or he dies. I know you don't want that. I don't really want that either. The two of you are more valuable to me alive, but if I have to..."

Xavier pulled out a knife and placed it against Lindsey's throat.

"Lindsey!"

*****

"Baby, please, don't!"

Azazel stepped aside, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Are you really willingly to sacrifice your love, your centre, and your Prophet for one insignificant Oracle? They can be replaced so easily; he can't. Think about it, Wesley. Think about what you are doing," he whispered seductively.

Wesley was gazing into Lindsey's eyes, their combined power flowing through him, mutual sorrow darkening their heart. / "You did come back," / he thought.

/ "Told you I would." /

/ "Wish you hadn't been so damn literal."/

/ "Sorry. I love you, you know, and if you trade, I will haunt you for the rest of your life."/

Wesley laughed softly. / "I won't trade; I'm sorry to lose you. /

/ "You won't; I'm part of you. If you survive, a part of me will too." /

Wesley took a deep breath, eyes locked in his lover's. "Azazel, there is no-"

"Eden! Stop!" Oz shouted.

"Fuck! Get her!" Angel said suddenly. "Stop her."

"Eden!" called Graham. He reached out and grabbed her.

Eden slipped something around his neck, kissed his cheek, and kneed him in the groin.

The solider groaned in surprise and dropped her. Before anyone else could react, Eden ran outside the barrier and up to the demon.

Azazel was gazing at her in amusement. "What are you doing, my dear?"

"You want one Oracle for the Prophet. I'm giving myself to you. Send him through." She was holding a box tightly against her chest. Wesley stepped from the barrier, but she shook her head. "Stay back, Wesley. Please."

"Xavier. Send the Prophet down." Azazel seemed highly entertained.

His countenance dark, Xavier unbound Lindsey. The Prophet scrambled down the platform and ran over to Eden.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Get inside the barrier. Now!"

Azazel walked over, *pushed* Lindsey into Wesley's arms, and took the box from Eden. "Thank you, my dear. I promise to make you death as painless as possible." He opened the box, revealing two shining orbs. "Lovely. Absolutely lovely."

Wesley's eyes widened. Those weren't the orbs; they were the sunshine balls Willow and Tara had made. "Get back," he whispered to Lindsey, creeping forward to get Eden.

The demon touched on gently. Immediately, his face changed. "You stupid bitch! Give me the orbs now!"

She raised her head defiantly. "I don't have them."

"'I don't have them,'" he mimicked. "Fine; then you are of no use to me."

"Eden!" Wesley reached out for her but Azazel extended his palm. A burst of light emitted from it, knocking Eden off her feet and into the air.

She flew high, screaming. Her small body bounced off the barrier, then began falling.

"No!" Graham and Oz darted forward through the barrier. Graham caught her before she hit the ground, her body slamming into his chest, causing him to fall against Oz.

The three fell to the ground. There was a small explosion and they began to glow. For an instant the three forms melted into each other, before reforming into three solid figures.

They lifted their heads, blinking, looking at each other. For a moment, there was a residual sheen on their skin: Wesley could see in the faint light from the street light that all three of them were slightly gold.

"What the hell happened?" Lindsey asked, standing close to Wesley.

Wesley shook his head. "I think... I think Eden put her orb around Graham's neck and Oz was wearing his. When they were thrust together they melded somehow. They are one."

"Well then," Azazel said, "That was unexpected. I guess the only thing to do now is kill them. In fact, troops, go ahead an attack. Their fighters seem to have shown up, finally." He gestured to the periphery where the teams of humans and demons that Angel Investigations had been training diligently for the last few months were. In front of the platform, Azazel turned. He was shining, a gold light tinged with black and red emanating from him. He ground his cigarette out, and rose into the air. Gazing down at Wesley, a smirk on his face, he said, "It begins," then blasted Wesley off his feet.

*****
Part 28: The Battle

The demons swarmed.

"Attack!" Angel shouted.

All around Wesley, there was fighting. After the initial blast which had thrown Wesley against the building, Azazel seemed to have lost interest. In fact, he had probably saved the sorcerer by throwing him out of the line of action.

Dizzy, he rose and surveyed the battle. He had been knocked unconscious, apparently, and dead were already littering the streets. The demons had the advantage of being born to cause destruction and having months of training. However, the humans were fighting for their lives and their homes - they had much more at stake.

Nearby, someone fell under a demon's blade. Wesley reached out and set it on fire. The demon burst into flames, catching several others near him on fire as well.

Lifting into the air, Wesley flew above the battleground, occasionally shocking a demon or hitting it with fire. Suddenly, he landed. Tara was being attacked.

"Wes!" she gasped.

Wesley pulled the demon off her and broke its neck. Another came up; he *reached* inside and pulled it apart. Creating an barrier around them, he kneeled by Tara.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "Not unless someone finds whatever he took from me," she gasped, trying to apply pressure to the wound. Wesley could see her intestines sliding out from between her fingers.

"Oh, Tara," he sighed. "I'm... I'm..."

Tara shook her head.

"Tara!" Willow screamed, running through the crowd. Wesley opened the barrier and allowed her through. "Tara," she sobbed, taking her head in her lap.

"I'm sorry, Will. I love you." The sorceress reached out and touched both their faces. Wesley could feel her power running out from her and into both him and Willow. She smiled one last time, then died.

"I'm sorry, Willow."

The witch shook her head, wiped her tears away, and rose. "I can mourn later. Now, we need to survive."

* * *

"Will you please get in the hotel?" Gunn asked for the thousandth time in the half hour as he and Cordelia fought side by side.

The seer shook her head, round-housed kicked the demon attacking her, turned to face it as it fell, then plunged her axe into his head. "I'm staying out here with you."

"Damn it, Cordelia!" Gunn chopped a demon in half and turned to her. "You're fucking pregnant! I don't want you and our child dying."

"Charles! What if we lose and I'm safe in the house and tomorrow I have to learn how to live in a world run by demons? I don't want that. So, I'll fight." Her eyes widened. "Look out!"

The young warrior spun and ducked just in time. The demon overshot him. Unbalanced, it was confused for a moment before Cordelia caught it in the stomach. Its guts slid out onto the ground.

Another demon came at them. It rushed Cordelia. She prepared to meet it, but Gunn thrust her out of the way and lunged at it with his sword. He missed and the demon grabbed him. Pulling out a ceremonial dagger, it rammed Gunn through the heart.

"No!" Cordelia leapt up and hit the demon over the head. It fell and she behead it with one angry swipe, tears falling from her eyes.

"Cordelia!" she heard Angel call.

Her attention was focused on her lover, bleeding to death in her lap. The seer's hands were red as she tried to stop the bleeding.

"It's no use," he whispered. His eyes slid briefly over her shoulder to where Angel was standing. "Please get her inside; they have to survive. We're going to win, Cordy, got it? Just live for me, please."

"I love you, Charles, don't leave me," she sobbed.

"Promise me?"

Cordelia nodded. "I promise." She leaned down, their lips meeting. They kissed until his lips went slack and his breath stopped.

"Charles," Cordelia cried.

Angel pulled her away. "I'm sorry, Cordy, but we've got to go; it's not safe here. Come on." He began pulling her towards the hotel, fending off demons as they did.

Suddenly, he tripped, stumbling over a body. "Faith," he whispered. Then he shook his head. Mourning came later.

* * *

Wesley was fighting. He was covered in blood, having both killed demons with the sword he carried and magic. Energy pulsed through him in waves, filling him with a never-ending source of power. He was flying, literally and figuratively.

Suddenly, there was a pull on his power. He turned.

"Low born, dirty, disgusting!" Xavier and Lindsey were fighting, out and out hitting, punching, no holds bar, anger and hatred seething over them both.

"Jerk! Fucking asshole. I hate you!" Lindsey *pushed* Xavier away from him, drawing on Wesley's power.

"Lindsey!" Wesley flew over and landed next to his lover. He gestured, sending Xavier's body through the air, slamming into the platform. "Are you all right?" He traced Lindsey's bruised and battered face lovingly.

Lindsey laughed slightly. "I'm great, baby, just great. What the hell did I just do?"

"What he does all the time: stole his power. Oh, I'm sorry, not stole; borrowed. Forgive me," Azazel suddenly said, standing very near. "Xavier; you hadn't been planning to kill our Prophet here, were you?"

"No, master," the warlock said, shakily rising to his feet. "I was attempting to draw the sorcerer here for you."

The demon looked over at his servant through ironic eyes. "Oh, of course. Well, it doesn't seem like we're needed much here anymore, does it? Heavy casualties on both sides, mass destruction over the world, chaos reigning... Our work here is done. Let us reconvene at the lair. Sorcerer, Prophet? Come with us."

"Wait!" Wesley tried to put up a barrier to protect them, but he wasn't fast enough. He and Lindsey were pulled into some sort of vortex, forces crushing them from all sides. Wesley tried to hold onto Lindsey's hand, hold onto consciousness, but it was too hard. The dimensional gate, or at least how Azazel decided to pull them through, was too much and darkness quickly closed in around Wesley.

*****
Part 29: Azazel's Lair

Wesley awoke with a start, feeling tired and achy. He was lying on a hard floor made of black volcanic rock. He was trapped in bubble-like magical barrier; next to him, separate in his own magic prison was Lindsey.

Lindsey's face, pale in contrast to the dark red Prophet robes, was towards Wesley. It was bruised and bloody, but relaxed in sleep. For a long moment, Wesley gazed at his lover studying the beloved visage in an effort to fix it forever in his memory. Just in case...

No. Don't think of the alternative.

Something began nagging at the edge of his being. There was something large and powerful behind him.

The sorcerer turned. An enormous power orb was suspended over an altar. It was similar to the one he had destroyed years ago under Wolfram and Hart, only on a much grander scale. Its power crept through Wesley, even through the barrier separating them; He knew that had it been down, he would be feeling the draw of the orb much more. Something with that much power may even be able to simply draw energy out without an intermediary, such a sex link provided.

Wesley swallowed hard, suddenly very afraid.

"Oh good, you're up," Azazel's taunting voice came from behind.

Wesley turned back. Azazel had walked in, lighting a cigarette. The demon was dressed in regal black robe with red accents; the fedora was gone, his the gold in his curls being highlighted by the orb. The effect was both alluring and terrifying.

He cocked his head, studying his prey, before taking a long drag. Blowing a few rings, the demon remarked, "I had hoped you would wake before the Prophet. I want to talk to you alone."

"Have you hurt him?" Wesley demanded.

"Me? No, no of course not. That is all from the battle; quite a little fighter, your lover. Not many warrior-Prophets, but had you won, he may have made a name for himself. Now, he will be known as the Prophet that glorious and wonderful Azazel, savoir of the demon people, vanquished easily. You, Wesley Wyndam-Price, may be mentioned by name in the annals of the demon people. You were a worthy foe."

"I'm not dead yet."

Azazel smiled. "No, you are not. But do you really think you can win? You're powerful, Wesley, but not powerful enough. Admit it, you don't even really have enough to destroy that orb. Plus, you don't even have your flute to focus like you did with the last one. Pretty song, by the way; I was quite entertained." The cigarette returned to his lips.

"Where are we?"

"Were are my manners? I am so sorry. Welcome to my home. It's just a little pocket in your dimension - removed enough to hide from the Powers, but close enough to be able to pop out anywhere I please."

Wesley looked around, then back at Azazel, a though occurring to him. "Why aren't you affecting me?"

"No headache? Partially because of the barrier. It's blocking most of my presence from you. When it's down, I still won't get to you much. You'll be able to feel me, pressure on your skin, but not overwhelming, not like a demon. I'm not really a demon, you see."

"What?"

"Oh, no. They've been lying to you, The Powers That Be. You know about my past, right?"

He nodded. "You were an angel who fell. They made you a demon or..."

"Or call me a demon. No one is going to be afraid of "Azazel. Class: Angel, fallen." Sure, there's the Lucifer stories out there but 'fallen angel' just doesn't have the ring 'demon' does. I'm still made like an angel, meaning I'm still made of the stuff the Powers are made of. You'll feel in my presence the same you would feel in theirs. As for the other demons, well, you managed to absorb enough power out on the battle field that the garden variety of demons won't be incapacitating any more."

"What about Lilith?"

Azazel's eyes darkened. "She, unfortunately, did not make it. The Watcher managed to slay her. I will miss her. She was a good fuck, if rather stupid at times." He took a few meditative puffs. "So, the battle on earth is almost over. I am almost ready to act."

"And do what?"

"Kill you, of course. Your death is the biggie. The power released when you die will be enough to throw open the Dimensional Gate and free the Leviathan."

Wesley's breath caught for a moment before he said, "I am surprised you want so very much to free that creature. One would think that you would wish to rule."

"Oh, I will. The Leviathan is the way I will keep the power. He will overthrow the Powers that Be, actually go to their plane of existence and kill them. It will take a lot of power to destroy them. Power that would take me an additional hundred years to collect, besides this, and which the Leviathan possess naturally. He will then become the figurehead of my empire, the flag under which I rule, but I will rule. So, don't worry about me."

"Trust me, I am so relieved," the sorcerer replied sardonically. He sighed and glanced down. "What the hell am I wearing?"

"A robe. A dressing gown, technically. Like it? You look beautiful. The blue satin was the right way to go. At first I was going to do all ivory, but you would have looked terrible. Blue with ivory trim, however... You are one lovely, lovely man," Azazel told him, raking his eyes critically over Wesley's body.

Wesley shifted, uncomfortable under the demons gaze. Under the dressing gown, he was naked. For the first time, he also noticed that not only was he wearing different clothes, but he had been cleaned as well.

His cheeks hot, Wesley asked, "And how..."

"Oh, don't worry, it was magic. But please, don't be such a prude; it's unbecoming. After all, I've heard you have phone sex, I've seen you have real sex, or did before the Powers blocked my view..."

"What?"

"Yeah, I watched you all the time, all of you. Let's see: the Marine and the Oracle have sex pretty much every night, except when the Marine has to patrol or the Oracle has spent to much time in the temple. His partner apparently kills his sex drive. The vampire was a huge fan of adult movies until he and the author hooked up, but two days after that, the Powers put the barrier up. You and the Prophet, though... Damn, boy! You've got stamina. So does he."

Wesley opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless. Finally, he managed, "I honestly don't know what to say. Never in a million years did I think I would be taken to your dimension to be humiliated. Killed, yes. This? Never." He bit his lip. "Was it gay porn, or just regular?"

"Oh, he rotated. Got a good mix," Azazel answered.

"Ah." Wesley paused. "I can't believe I asked that."

The demon smiled, ground his long dead cigarette out, and clapped his hands. "Now, down to business. You see, you are going to die." He shrugged apologetically. "I am sorry. I like you. You've got this powerful, intelligent, yet remarkably innocent and somehow sensuous thing going for you. If it were up to me - which, technically it is, but let's pretend this is out of my control - I'd keep you around. If there were anyway to corrupt you, our powers combined would be enough to get rid of the Powers. Then there would be no need for the Leviathan. But I know you; I wouldn't be able to tempt you in a thousand centuries, maybe more. So I won't waste my time trying. Therefore - death. But your death is really not the issue here."

"I would beg to differ, but please, continue."

"Trust me, yours is not the issue. The Prophet's is. You see, I can kill him quickly and painlessly, or draw it out, torturing him. It all depends on you."

The sorcerer crossed his arms. "What do you want from me?"

"Oh, it's not what I want. It's what Xavier wants. And that would be you."

"Me."

"Yes. He wants you in this big, passionate, followed you through the centuries kind of way. My servant's deepest desire, Wesley Wyndam-Price, is to fuck you. I promised to try and give you to him. Now, you are here, he is here, and we have some time before the big event so..." Azazel trailed off and raised one golden eyebrow.

Wesley took a deep breath. "So, I sleep with Xavier and you don't hurt Lindsey. Besides killing him, that is."

"Pretty much."

"What is in it of you?"

"Nothing, really. Xavier has devoted over a hundred years to me, faithfully. He is a terrific servant. Also, I am curious to see what he will do. It took me many years to realize what his weakness was; he was waiting for you to come back, not that he realized who you were or even that he was waiting."

"What?"

The demon shrugged. "It's all very confusing. Apparently, in your last life you two were enemies. You've been enemies through most of the lives I've been able to place you in, except for the first few. You tried to kill him, then had the ill grace to die in the attempt. No matter what the stories say, you died at the falls while trying to kill him. The rest is all the imagination of the author."

"I don't understand."

"It's not important," Azazel told him dismissively. "Sufficed to say, you and he have been reincarnated with each other many, many, many times. In each life he wants you, and in each life, he doesn't get you. I plan to end this before you die for the last time. The catch is, I told him that I'd only give him to you if I found a way to check your powers. I can't; if I did, that would weaken your death. So, I'm threatening you. Let Xavier have his way with you, and I will give Lindsey a death with barely any pain and plenty of dignity. It really doesn't matter how he dies, so I can give you that because I respect you, Wesley."

"Will you still respect me after I whore myself out, or is this a trap?"

Azazel smiled. "No trap, I promise. The question you should be asking is will he still respect you?" He pointed to Lindsey.

Wesley rose, smoothing the satin of the dressing gown out as he did. "We'll be dead. What will it matter any more?"

"Oh, one more thing. You have to promise you won't just walk in there and pull his heart out or anything. Got it?"

"I suppose you will be watching."

The demon crinkled his nose. "Watch *Xavier* have sex? Ick. Plus, he'd kill me, so after the ick factor, that's a fairly good reason. I want him to be grateful, not angry. I won't watch."

"Let's get this over with. Take me to him."

Azazel snapped his fingers. The barrier lowered. Wesley felt a firm, but manageable pressure all over, but it passed in a moment, as he own energy washed over him. The orb made him uncomfortable, but then a demon minion walked in.

"He'll take you to Xavier's room. Have fun," Azazel said with a leer.

Wesley glanced over at his unconscious love, sighed, then left.

*****
Part 30: Back on Earth

Angel brought his axe down, slicing neatly through the demon's neck. Nearby, the rapport of gunfire sounded. He turned. Raoul, covered in blood, was mowing down a group of demons.

The man glanced over at Angel. "They seem to be slowing down."

Xander and Spike, riding on Wesley's motorcycle, came roaring onto the street. They had gone across the city earlier to help with the fight down there. Xander leapt off.

"The fights really winding down. We seem to have won, kind of. About half the bodies on the street are humans and the other half are demons." He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "I think it's over."

"No," Angel replied. "It won't be over until Azazel's been defeated." He glanced around at the bodies littering the street. "Has anyone seen Wesley or Lindsey? Or... or their bodies?"

Xander, Spike, and Raoul all looked at each other. "No."

"Where are they?" Angel heard a note of panic creep into his voice.

"I don't know. Did they go to another street?"

Angel walked over and grabbed the motorcycle. He started it. "I'm going to look."

"Angel, that's crazy." Xander grabbed his arm. "You can't just wander the streets looking for him. He'll come back or... or he's dead."

"No, I won't accept that. He's not dead; I know he's not dead."

"How?"

Spike stepped forward. "He'd be able to feel it, Xander; just like he felt Buffy's death. He'd know."

"Angel, come back to the hotel first. You need to feed; you look exhausted. You can ask the Oracles if they know where he is and then, if they don't, you can look. But don't rush off half cocked."

"Fine." He stormed the few blocks back to the Hyperion, the others trailing. Once inside, he carefully picked his way over the wounded in the lobby.

Oz, Eden, and Graham were sitting on the stairs, looking exhausted. Still slightly disoriented from their joining, they had been unable to battle. Instead, they began helping the wounded brought in, aided by a variety of nurses, military personnel, and the Red Cross. They had been working for four hours straight until all three had been ordered to rest.

"Where's Wesley?" the vampire demanded.

The trio looked up, their eyes old from the battle and the Powers flowing through them. They spoke as one.

"Azazel took him."

*****
Part 31: Wesley and Xavier

Wesley was led down the hall to a medium size room. It was tastefully decorated in opulent burgundy tones and Victorian style antiques. In the centre of the room, showcased, was a large four-post bed.

The demon minion left, leaving the sorcerer alone to wait. He let out a shaky breath, glancing around nervously. Lindsey, he knew, would kill him if he found out what Wesley had agreed to. He would never have wanted Wesley to whore himself out only to give Lindsey a painless death. But it had been the choice he had taken, not just because he wanted to make things easy for Lindsey, but because he was buying time. He clung fast to the hope that they would still win; he didn't know how, but he had faith.

As far as he knew, his friends were still alive. Wesley believed fervently that he would have felt Angel die, and he hadn't. Perhaps if he stalled, somehow Angel would appear and help Wesley in some way. They would win.

For now, well, he had been given an opportunity to stave off death. And if it meant allowing a man he hated to use his body, so be it.

The door opened and Xavier walked in. For a long moment, the warlock stood, gazing at Wesley. There were dark red spots burning on his cheeks and lust churned in his eyes.

Wesley felt extremely self-conscious as he was ravished by Xavier's gaze. He cleared his throat, one hand convulsively holding the robe tighter together. "Shall we get this over with?"

"If you wish."

"Somehow I don't think what *I* wish is all that relevant right now, is it? This is all for you." Wesley's voice was incredibly sarcastic and dripping with venom. "Now, do you want me on the bed, ass in the air, or shall I simply bend over a chair?"

Xavier sniffed and looked away, haughty and arrogant. "My claiming of Mr. McDonald was out of necessity only. Nowhere in Azazel's request specify how the bond should be created; I chose efficacy over frivolity. I did not harm him."

"Not physically, no. You were very careful to make sure he felt almost nothing. Nothing except being used." Wesley cocked his head. "You made it as emotionally painful for him as possible. Why?"

"Because I did not want to do it. I dislike my baser nature and wish to take no pleasure with any one through sex. That is, anyone except for you."

"What's so special about me? Why this?"

The warlock walked close to Wesley, gazing at his face. He gently touched the sorcerer with the back of his hand, running his knuckles down his cheek, jaw, neck, to rest at the opening of the robe. Pressing his palm against Wesley's skin, the warlock slipped his hand underneath, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of his nipple. "I first saw you in New York, during your days as a 'rogue demon hunter.' You were hunting a client of mine. Dressed in leather, in need of a shave, swaggering in an attempt to toughen up your image. The whole attitude you were projecting was a jarring contrast to the innocence reflected in your eyes. Then again, I saw you in Los Angeles, after you had calmed down. You devoted yourself so faithfully to the vampire, and the light in your eyes...You loved him, you loved your life. You looked so perfect." Xavier smiled. "Mr. McDonald and the vampire never knew I had you followed. Pictures were taken, conversations taped, descriptions of where you went, who you were with. You fascinated me. I was, frankly, obsessed."

Wesley's eyes were wide in horror. "You had me followed?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, that is how I first became suspicious of Mr. McDonald. My informant would come back with gaps in their memory; certain days at certain times they just couldn't remember. Their tapes would be strangely blank, film undeveloped - all very strange. They couldn't be trusted so, one night, I followed you myself.

"You led me to Mr. McDonald - my newest team member's - apartment. I saw the change in you. Somehow you had created a link with someone, a way to channel their power and focus yours. I knew you were a sorcerer and have the ability to become linked with someone without the physical activity a warlock needs. However, you do need an emotional involvement. And with this new power source, you chose to go to Mr. McDonald's house. Mr. McDonald who, for two weeks, had reverted to his earlier personality: passively suicidal, attempting to kill himself though drink and overwork. Just like the old days, before Holland Manner's unfortunate death and his sudden change of life.

"Suspicious is hardly the word. But, he was careful. He loved you," Xavier spat the words out in obvious disgust, "and did not wish to put you in danger. And, I had no proof that he was betraying the firm. So, I bided my time."

"I don't understand, then, why you tried to kill me."

"I didn't; my assassin demons were ordered to incapacitate. Azazel has always needed you alive. You have always been the key to his plans." Xavier pursed his lips, gently stoking Wesley's skin under the robe. He lifted his other hand to rest at the base of the sorcerer's neck. "There has only ever been one thing Mr. McDonald and I have ever agreed upon: Perhaps neither of us deserve you, but we both worship you."

Wesley was very stiff and very frightened. He'd never expected this fanatical and obsessive behavior. "If you don't deserve me, then why am I here?"

"The world is about to be turned on it's head, old rules will not apply and... this will be my last chance. Never in my life have I been allowed the bliss of being with who I want. My last obsession - before you - threw me over a waterfall. I had spent years building up my organization, consolidating my plans for wealth and success, learning how to extend my life through magic and *he* destroyed it all in one fell swoop. He was my weakness. If he hadn't been so brilliant and seductive and yet so genuine - he was much like you - I never would have lost. But he lured me across the continent. When I finally caught him, we shared one kiss then fought. He and I both fell over the cliff, but only he died. Still, he managed to destroy everything I had built up." He sighed in frustration.

Wesley blinked; the story was familiar. It hit him. "You don't mean... *you* were Moriarty*?"

The warlock inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I was already working for Azazel; Wolfram and Hart was just beginning, but I still had human ties. After Holmes's death and my apparent death, I changed my name, move to California, and devoted myself to making the firm the power it turned out to be. I devoted myself to him, Azazel, my master." His eyes wandered down Wesley's body, the green growing darker with lust. "And for my devotion." He kissed Wesley, his lips hot and insistent, and began guiding the sorcerer to the bed. "You."

Deep in his throat, Wesley gave and involuntary whimper.

(*which means Wesley was Sherlock Holmes)

*****