Wesley sat nervously, phone in his hand, facing the guard glass. No one knew where he was, not even Lindsey. He had left the hotel after the lawyer had gone to work, not wanting to have to explain. It was complicated.

The events of the day before, facing Buffy and her scorn, had forced him to think very hard about himself, his past, and his future. He had reached some hard conclusions, and now he was here, at the federal prison, attempting to do the right thing. The right thing is never the easy to do.

The sorcerer ran through some breathing exercises Oz had taught him, attempting to regulate his power intake. It was a comforting activity, much like fidgeting, only less obvious. When he was younger, he had often had to move to release his tension, but for such small indiscretions as kicking his legs, his father had punished him. If only then he had someone to teach him how to control the power in him, being patient with his mistakes and encouraging with his successes. Perhaps he'd be stronger, more confident now. More confident, and not quaking in fear, anticipating the woman he would be facing.

"You're got fifteen minutes," the guard said.

"Thank you." Wesley opened his eyes and watched as Faith said slowly across from him

She lifted the intercom, her eyes wide. "Wesley. Wow, hi. I never expected to see you here."

"I hardly expected to find myself here." He looked down nervously, then back up. "Lindsey told me that you are up for parole soon."

"Yeah. I don't know if I'll get out or not. I've been good. It's hard, you know, having all this strength and knowing that I could beat someone up when they get on me, but... I don't want to have to live with myself if I do. So, I manage. But, hey, maybe I won't get out so you won't have to worry." Her voice wasn't accusing, it wasn't angry. In fact, she sounded sad.

Wesley heard the tone and understood the feelings behind it. "Do you know what's going on out here?"

"Angel told me a bit: demons, powerful ones. Last month about half the prisoners died from some sickness. He said a demon did that."

"Yes, indeed. That is why... why we need you out. To help us fight."

She looked at him for a long moment. "You trust me to fight?"

He sighed. "Not personally, no, I find it very difficult. Quite frankly, you scare me. Sometimes I still dream about what you did. It's stupid, it was a long time ago, but-"

"No, no it's not stupid. What I did to you� Fuck, Wesley, I-"

"Wait," he interrupted. "I need to say this, everything. Some of it you won't want to hear but, I need to say it." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling power pass through him. "A part of me wants you to stay in here forever. A part of me hates you. A part of me is so scared and terrified of what you might do, it wants you dead. But... the torture isn't all. Perhaps if it was the only thing you did, I could get over it so to speak. But there is more.

"From the first moment we met, you were scornful, rude, disobedient. You never gave me half a chance, never respected me for who I was, both as a person and as your Watcher. You made it quite clear that you had no need for me in either capacity and that you were willing to leave me to the mercies of whatever came along."

"Wes..."

"No, let me finish." He looked away. "I, in turn, never acknowledged you properly. I treated you like a child; worse, I acted as if you were a mere tool for me and the council to use. I failed to realize that I was dealing with a strong, capable, but very lost young woman, worthy of both my respect, admiration and... and affection." He looked up. "You never should have needed the mayor; I should have been enough." They gazed at each other in silence for a moment, before he admitted, "The truth is, Faith, you abused me very little. I never really trusted you, the woman, the real person, so you never could really break my trust. I was wrong and I am sorry."

Faith gazed at him, swallowing hard, not speaking. Her face crumpled suddenly, a few tears spilling down her cheeks. "Dammit, Wesley, look what you did." She gasped for breath. "No one, no one who's ever fucked me over has ever apologized. And this from you. I almost killed you. I- I don't deserve this."

"I've lived almost all my life in fear of what others may do to me, what was done to me. I can't work with you with this fear and anger in me. So, I have to get rid of the anger; the fear I can deal with."

She met his eyes, tears still streaming down her face. "Don't fear me, Wesley. I won't hurt you. Fuck, I will hurt anyone who touches you, I swear. I never gave you a chance, you never gave me a chance, but that changes now. Please, please don't be lying to me, please."

He smiled faintly. "I am a terrible liar. I swear."

"Thank you," she whispered. "And I'm so sorry for all that I did."

"We start over now. It's in the past, we move forward. One thing that Lindsey has taught me is that we all have the capacity to change."

Faith nodded. "Remind me to... Wes? Wesley, what's the matter?"

Pain shot through Wesley quite suddenly, making it hard to breath. His body began to shake as he fought the pain, fighting to force air into his lungs. He managed to get one deep breath, then opened his eyes, wincing against the seemingly overly bright light.

"There's a demon here." His breath began to come easier, even as his head began pounding.

Faith rose, looking around. "Where?"

The sorcerer opened himself up, feeling around him with fingers of energy. "I can't tell."

The Slayer suddenly stiffened, listening to the air intently. "Do you hear that?"

"No, what?"

"A voice." Her expression was horrified. "It's telling them to kill."

"Kill who?"

"Everyone."

An alarm suddenly went off, followed by bloodcurdling screams and gunshots. A light flashed overhead, and a computerized voice announced, "All locking systems have been shut down. All-" before it was cut off.

The guard behind the visitor desk suddenly pulled out a gun. She aimed at the person nearest her, a visitor, and fired. One of the prisoners on the inside of the prison launched herself at the guard on the inside. They began fighting in an almost animalistic fashion for dominance.

"Wesley, look out!" shouted Faith as the rouge guard took aim at him.

Wesley didn't hesitate. He swung around, arm out, and threw a wave of energy at her. The guard was knocked off her feet, slamming into the wall behind her.

She fell unconscious.

"What the fuck is going on?" Faith asked.

"The demon is influencing them to kill, everyone."

"Why aren't I affected?"

Wesley paused and looked at her for a moment, reading her aura. "Because you're a Warrior of the PTB. The demon has no influence over you. You can fight her."

"What do I do?"

"Stay here. I'm going to try and force her to show herself. I may need you to help defend me."

"Ok, but how?"

Wesley scanned the air, power coursing though him strongly. It was nearly overwhelming, but his adrenalin was so high, he found he could control it. He felt calm and in control. "I just will."

A woman, covered with blood suddenly launched herself out of the prison. She screamed and leapt at Faith. The Slayer defended herself, trying to knock the woman out without killing her.

Wesley walked around the room slowly, searching the room for the demon. His eyes were closed as he threw his inner consciousness out in the room, flying about, searching for the distortion in fabric of reality he knew must be there.

Suddenly, he hit a dark place. Grabbing onto it with his mind, he ripped it open.

There was a loud and powerful scream in his mind and he pulled the demon out. Opening his eyes, he looked at what he had found.

She was beautiful, long red hair flowing around her, crackling with energy; her skin was a flawless pale green, eyes blue. Her dress was tight in the top, showing off her ample cleavage, and loose around her legs, floating up to give him a view of her curved calf. Her lips were curved in a smile.

"So," she said in a voice replete with power, seductive and strong, "you're the sorcerer. My, you certainly are a pretty thing, aren't you?"

"You must be Lilith."

She floated down a bit, stopping when she was just above eye level. "Very good. You certainly have done your homework." Lilith cocked her head to one side. "How is your prophet? Xavier speaks of him often."

Anger flared in Wesley at the mention of his lover's former tormenter. The emotion brought on a rush of power, which he held onto. "How long did it take you to find him? From what I remember it was easy to defeat him."

"You will find me much, much harder, pretty one." Lilith gestured with her arm.

Wesley was hit in the stomach, hard. He flew back, but manage to cushion his landing with a pillow of energy. Reaching deep into himself, he pushed both hands in front of him, palms out. Streams of light emanated from his hand, hitting Lilith in the chest.

She screamed. The air around her darkened.

"Wesley!" Faith shouted from underneath her attacker.

The sorcerer spun. Two guards, clothes bloody, eyes unfocused with the power Lilith was manipulating them with, were rushing him. One managed to barrel into him.

Wesley easily flipped him over his head and leapt to his feet. He did a sharp knife block into the guards neck, then smashed the heel of his palm into his nose.

The other guard came behind him. Wesley's kick caught him in the stomach, and he punched with his left hand to off-centre the guard, then with his right, concentrating his power into it. The guard was knocked across the room, crashing into the flying demon.

"Damn you!" she shouted, hitting the wall.

Feeling energy still coursing though him, Wesley ran over, directing everything he had at her. She began to sink, screaming, fighting against him. Their energies fought against each other, light against dark; the sorcerer could barely make out the glow in the air.

Lilith pushed again, harder. Wesley felt himself giving way; he gasped, falling to one knee, the demon overwhelming him. A terrible pain pounded in his head, making it hard to think. He could feel the skin at his temple tearing open, blood seeping out.

"Wesley! No, you have to fight!" screamed Faith. She was standing by now, blood on her shirt.

Wesley tried to pull more energy into him, but the demon was relentless. Sweat began to break out on his forehead and his breath came in gasps.

"No!" Faith catapulted herself at the demon, crashing into her.

Distracted, Lilith turned her attention to the new threat, giving Wesley a chance to recover.

He closed his eyes, falling into himself, ignoring the screams of the inmates and guards, of Faith's struggles, of Lilith herself. It all slipped away as he swam towards the centre of calm, to his source of power. He saw he didn't have enough to destroy her; he barely had enough to keep himself alive. But he had to save Faith and himself. Reaching deep inside, he drew on every last resource he had.

There was a sudden, intense rush of power. Wesley knew it wasn't coming from him, that he was using someone else's energy, but the urge was too strong to ignore.

Filled with power, Wesley rose into the air. He floated over to the demon, until he was above her. Opening his eyes, he saw Faith, scratching Lilith's face, fighting for her life.

"Faith," Wesley said, his voice bouncing off the wall.

She looked up. Her eyes grew large, but she understood. She scrambled away quickly.

Lilith turned. "Fuck," she whispered, before Wesley hit her with his power.

It covered her, overwhelming her. She struggled, but she couldn't shake it off. There was a loud rip in the fabric of reality as the sorcerer forced the demon back through, and closed it off.

The gunshots and screams faded as everyone returned to themselves.

Tired, but still channelling energy, Wesley landed. "Faith, there are injured."

Still watching him in awe, Faith nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Side by side, the sorcerer and the Slayer went into the prison to help the wounded until more help arrived.

*****

Cordelia burst into the Hyperion. "Where are they?" she demanded.

Xander, who was at the front desk, looked up from the computer. "Where are who?"

"Lindsey and Graham. I had a vision, they're supposed to be here."

"Did something happen?"

"Lindsey was hurt. Why isn't anyone worried?" She looked around. Giles was on one of the couches, looking through a book on demons; Tara and Willow were sitting on the floor, a news paper in front of them, collecting articles. Nothing seemed wrong. "But I saw them."

The front door opened and Graham walked in, carrying and unconscious Lindsey.

"What happened?" Xander demanded, rushing forward to help.

"I don't know; he just collapsed. One minute we were talking, then he stiffened and passed out."

Tara walked up and placed a hand on him. "His energy's been drained."

"What does that mean?" the former solider asked.

She opened her mouth to answer when Angel ran out onto the upper balcony. "The federal prison is under attack, or was under attack."

"Faith?" Giles asked.

"It's where she was. I'm going down..."

Wesley chose that moment to walk in. He was bruised and bleeding, his clothes torn and bloody.

"What happened to you?" Cordelia said, gazing at him.

"I was visiting Faith and we... Lindsey?"

"He collapsed," Graham told him.

Wesley turned pale and ran to his lover. "No! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered. His knees buckled and he started to fall, leaning heavily on Lindsey.

Graham crouched and put the unconscious Prophet on the floor. Wesley wrapped his arms around his lover, cradling him.

"I'm sorry, Lindsey; I didn't know. I didn't know what to do, I had to. I'm sorry."

The rest of the group was looking at each other in confusion. Except for Tara. She knelt down next to Wesley, whispering in his ear.

The sorcerer nodded, then kissed Lindsey. They began to glow brightly for a moment, then he pulled away. Wesley hid his face in his lover's neck, rocking slightly, and whispering "I'm so sorry" over and over.

Lindsey opened his eyes. They were haunted and exhausted, but he was alert. His hand went to Wesley's arm, which was draped across his chest. He looked around in confusion. "What's going on? Wes? What's the matter? Hey." He pulled Wesley around. "What's the matter, baby?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but she was too strong and I had to stop her from killing everyone, from killing Faith. She was stronger than me, I couldn't beat her, so, so I was looking for power and I used yours. I used you. I'm so sorry." He put his arms around Lindsey, holding him tightly.

"It's okay," he said automatically.

Cordelia looked at Angel. "Faith?" Then it hit her. "One of the demons attacked the prison? And I'm guessing it was Lilith. Why wasn't my vision about that?"

"Because obviously Wesley could handle himself," replied Angel. "He didn't need help, but we needed you here for the aftermath."

Lindsey was whispering to his lover, kissing him gently and repeatedly. Slightly calmer, the sorcerer pulled away.

"What happened, Wesley?" Willow asked gently.

Wesley told them everything, leaving nothing out, from his original intention in going, to the fact that Faith was praised for keeping her head during a crisis and helping out instead of hurting. When it was done, he glanced over at Lindsey. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I'd rather you beat the demon using my energy than die." He kissed Wesley again. "So, what was Lilith doing at the prison? How did she know you'd be there?" He rose to his feet, then almost fell back down, his legs shaky.

Graham caught him. "You need to rest."

"No fuck. We also need to talk about this."

"I'll go get Buffy. She should be here for this," Giles said, excusing himself.

Graham helped Lindsey over to one of the couches. Wesley followed, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Wesley, did Lilith act like she'd come to kill you? You know, all triumphant and arrogant?" Cordelia said.

He shook his head. "No. Well, she was arrogant, but she tried to hide from me. I forced her to show herself, but until then she seemed content to reek havoc from behind the scenes." He looked speculatively at Willow and Tara for a long moment. "Willow, can you draw power from Tara if you need it?"

The witch blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah, if I have to. Do you mean only when we're doing spells or at other times?"

"Other times. When you alone are doing a spell or if you're particularly tired or need a boost or something. Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"I can," said Tara.

"Yes, of course you can," Wesley remarked, "but then, you're like me."

"What?" Willow looked at her wife, wide-eyed.

Tara looked sheepish. "Yeah, I think he's right. I've noticed I can do things, things I shouldn't be able to do without a spell, yet I can. You always need spells, at least in the beginning; I don't."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't know what to say. I thought it was a fluke; I didn't know there were others like me." She looked at Wesley. "Why do you need to know if she can do it?"

Giles and Buffy entered the room, Spike coming from behind, pulling on his shirt.

"What's going on, people? I was catching a nice bit of shuteye. This better be important. Christ, Wesley, you look like shit," said the blond vampire.

"He's right. What happened?" Buffy demanded.

"I was attacked by Lilith. Well, I fought with her; she didn't attack. The reason I wanted to know, Tara, was I think I may understand what the demons are doing and what Wolfram and Hart really did."

"What do you mean?"

Wesley turned to face his lover. "I believe that Xavier was drawing power off you. That was what the claiming thing really was; it was a way to establish a bond between the strongest member of the team and him so he could siphon off their energy. At first, when Azazel was collecting power, it must have been done all the time; the more people marked, the more power the heads, who must all have been magic users, could collect. By the time you worked for them, it was just a ritual that most of them didn't do because they didn't use magic."

"What about Holland?" Angel asked.

Lindsey blushed and looked down, shame written plainly on his face. "He did it for pleasure. And it wasn't the same. Fuck," he whispered, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes.

Wesley put a comforting hand on his leg. "Xavier needed a constant source of power to tie him to the dimension. Lindsey has a lot of power in him, so he was the obvious choice."

"So, and I'm assuming this claiming thing has something to do with sex, what you're saying is that by having sex, you can create a bond and draw power off someone? Did you do that?" Buffy said.

Wesley shook his head. "I drew power off Lindsey and I think I tend to channel it through him, but our bond was created before we slept together."

Lindsey opened his eye. "It was?"

"Yes. I felt your hand grow back; before that I knew you were in trouble and needed me. We've been linked for years. But I'm a sorcerer; Xavier is not. I think that witches and warlocks need the physical connection to draw the power, like Xavier had with Lindsey, or Willow has with Tara. That is, they need the physical link unless the energy is release somehow."

"Released?" Angel repeated.

"Yes; if someone is killed, the energy that sustained them in life is released. Anyone can feed off it."

Silence settled across the room as everyone considered the implications of this.

Cordelia put it in words. "So, Lilith went to kill Faith, hoping to get her energy?"

"Faith was the added bonus; she probably was collecting everyone's essence. That's why they need to kill everyone: the entire worlds population is like a massive feeding ground for them."

"Happy meals on legs at its best."

Buffy hit Spike gently. "But they need to be around to kill and collect, right?"

Wesley nodded. "And I'm thinking, to reach their goal quicker, they will kill those with the most concentrated energy first: Warrior's, Messengers, Prophets, and..."

"And Oracles," Graham finished grimly.

Willow glanced fearfully around. "Where's Oz?"

*****
Part 5: Demons and Oracles

Lilith walked into the chamber, growling. A demon minion was kneeling on the Floor - she kicked it across the room, then lifted a chair. Screaming, she threw it against the wall, breaking it.

"Rough day?" Azazel drawled.

The female demon spun. Her master was draped across a throne like chair, smoking some sort of cigarette. He was dressed all in black except for the blood red tie around his neck and the red pin on the band of his fedora. Golden curls peeped out from under the hat, his marbled skin slightly flushed; a lazy smile stretched across his face.

"The sorcerer beat me. He saved the girl and threw me out."

Azazel didn't move, but the air around him thickened. His mortal servant, Xavier, stood behind him, abruptly stiff.

"The sorcerer? You went up against the sorcerer? The vampire's pet sorcerer? The Prophet's lover? The man that I specifically gave orders that no one was supposed to touch? The key to our plans sorcerer? That sorcerer?"

"Yes. That one," she answered, her voice haughty. "I didn't realize he was there and my attack on the prison was already underway. What was I supposed to do?" "Wait until he was gone. Stop and come back. Think. Use that thing in between those ears for once." The demon rose to his feet, every move drenched with perfect elegance and grace. He walked over to Lilith and traced her face almost lovingly. "We needed the Slayer dead. We needed her power and now, thanks to you, not only has the sorcerer managed to save her and absorb some of your power, but you have called The Powers That Be's attention back to her. How long do you think it will be before the Slayer is out of prison and safe within the protective circle of the vampire and his team?" Abruptly, he hit Lilith, knocking her to the ground.

She looked up at him, eyes wide and fearful, green blood oozing from her broken lip. "I am sorry, my master."

"I don't know how good sorry is." He reached down and touched her. There was a flash of light, then she slumped. "Xavier will be teaching you a lesson in a bit. You're powers are under check until he is through."

Lilith looked back at the dark haired warlock. He smiled at her, his eyes dead.

She glared. "I did not agree to this. I am supposed to be your equal."

Azazel turned to the third member of the demon trinity: Dever. The pestilence demon was sitting in a pool of puss and venoms which leaked off him in slow droplets. He grinned stupidly at his master.

"Equal was never in the contract. Powerful? Above most demons? Yes. Equal? Never. I am in charge. I have been planning the overthrow of the powers of thousands of years while I wandered around in that desolate place. I planned this, I constructed the power source, I found Xavier, I perfected a plan to empower demons and collect powers. I am the Leviathan's second in command. There is no equality here, just hierarchy. And you either accept that, or you will die and I will absorb your power. Do you understand?" His voice never rose, but his power gave the impression shouting.

"Yes, master. Of course." The female demon cringed.

"Good." Azazel's demeanour turned suddenly pleasant. "Xavier, why don't you tell her what you did today?"

"I killed the Oracles of Asia, Makin and Mieko," Xavier answered, his cool voice sounding almost smug.

Despite herself, Lilith was interested. "How did you get past the guards? You know ever since those two in L.A. were killed, no demon gets past the temple guards. The Powers know you."

Xavier shrugged. "I had a human do it. I found a lovely young woman who needed money. She had very low scruples. It was quite easy to convince her. The two fools never knew what hit them; by the time the guards realized, they were dead."

Azazel held out his hand. Two glowing orbs appeared above it. "Xavier managed to get these before the guards killed her. Pity. I would have loved to have the guards killed as well, but you can't have everything."

Lilith reached out to touch the orbs, but the head demon pulled them back. "No, no, no; these aren't for you. In fact, I better go put them in our source. I wouldn't want anyone to become tempted by them. So, one pair down, six more to go. The hardest, of course, will be the Oracles of North America; they are still human."

"The little one, Oz, I believe he is called, is rarely at his temple. We could just steal his power," suggested Xavier.

"No," Azazel shook his head, "I want him dead too. The power is more complete when the human dies. Besides, he's the sorcerer's teacher. Perhaps if the two were separated, the sorcerer would lose his will. The Oracle must die."

"We should act quickly," mumbled Dever, his attention mostly on drawing designs on the wall with green pus.

"Yes, we should, but not too quickly. After all, we want to kill the sorcerer only after enough power has been built up in him. We have some time, I think. Xavier, take Lilith and punish her. I'll put the power away, and we make our plans later. We have time. There is no way we are going to lose this war, no matter what those mortals think."

Oz was walking down the street, not paying attention to anything when, quite suddenly, there was a flash of light and the other Oracle of North America, Eden, appeared in front of him.

"Daniel! Why have you ignored my cries and the calls of the Powers? We have been trying to contact you."

"I wasn't paying attention. Preoccupied; sorry." He was a little thrown; he'd never seen Eden outside their temple or one of the other temples. She was still in her ceremonial robes, her skin glowing with otherworldly power, but it was disquieting to see her on the streets. "Did something happen?"

"The Oracles of Asia are dead. Come." She took his hand and transported them to their temple.

Oz, now dressed in his ceremonial garb, which consisted of a pale blue robe with gold trimming, a gold circlet around his head, and small sword strapped to his back, glanced around. "Dead? I thought all temples were guarded now to protect us. What happened?"

The woman was pacing, twisting her hands in agitation. "A human did it. The guards said that they chased her and killed her, but that warlock, Xavier, took the Oracle's power before they could stop him."

"Xavier?" A wave of icy fear swept through Oz. "He killed them?"

"He hired the assassin. Why didn't your sorcerer kill him years ago? Oh, Daniel, what if the demons come for us? The Oracles of Asia were centuries old; we've only been Oracles a few years. We haven't even internalised our power. Someone could simply walk in a steal it." He violet eyes were large and full of tears, lower lip trembling.

"Eden, you need to calm down. I'm personally not planning on dying. What have the Powers said to you?" He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to make her focus.

She took a deep breath. "They said not to leave the eyes of the guards and that we should stay together. I want you to stay here with me. I'm so frightened. I don't know what to do. Don't leave me. Please." She leaned forward as if to kiss him.

Oz pulled back. "No, staying here is bad. Heck, two Oracles have already died in this temple." He stepped away, thinking. Off to the side of the room were two marble columns. Floating over them were two orbs, smaller versions of the one Wesley had destroyed in the temple at Wolfram and Hart a few years back. They were the physical manifestation of their limited powers and links to the Powers that Be.

The Oracles of North America were the youngest and newest ones. The others were centuries old, their families chosen by the Powers to train and serve as the mouthpieces of knowledge. They were born human, but given up by their families when a Prophet appeared, calling them. No Oracle had been needed for years, but then two had been killed. Eden's family had given her willingly. Her ancestors had been chosen as some of the first Oracles and the knowledge had been passed down through the generations. Every first-born daughter born to Eden's family had been raised with the knowledge that they might be chosen for the honor of acting as a link to the Powers that Be.

Oz had never even heard of the Oracles until he was called.

He gazed at the orbs thoughtfully, an idea forming.

"I can't stay here, Eden. I don't like the temple - I'm just not comfortable here."

"That is because you still mourn your former life. You degrade what we are by pretending to be normal. We are not normal, Daniel, we have been chosen for one of the highest honors given by the Powers that Be. We are Oracles."

Oz turned on her, angry. "So, I act like nothing has changed. So what? I still do my duty, I just don't spend my time hanging out here, bored, or in the heavenly court, gossiping. I have a life that I need to live. I don't even know what I am. This isn't an honor for me, it's a duty. I was called and I agreed to do it. At no time did they tell me I would have to give up living."

"They are mortal, you friends. Even the vampire will, most likely, be human some day. They will grow old and die. We are forever." She stepped closer to him and put on soft, small hand on his arm. "Forever, Daniel, do you know what that means? You were chosen to be my consort, and I yours. It is only because of your foolishness that you persist and doting on transient beings."

She was laying the charm on thick. Eden would never be seductive in the traditional way. There was no wicked smiles in her, no promises of wild and unimaginable pleasure. In Eden, there was submissive charm. There was no doubt that the young woman was beautiful, with long, thick golden hair and skin so perfect she looked sculpted. She relied on the fact that she was soft and fragile, appealing to a person's protective nature. She was seductive in the way white satin sheets were.

Rather like Willow had been when Oz first fell in love with her.

Oz said nothing, only gazed at her. Sensing an opening, Eden stepped closer until her body was almost touching his. "Stay here, with me. Protect me, be with me. I'm too scared to be alone and too scared to leave."

Oz closed his eyes. "I can't stay here, Eden; I'll go crazy. And... I can't be your consort, I can't be what you want me to be. I'm in love with Graham. Yes, he'll die long before I age, but I only have a short time with him and don't want to waste that." He traced her face gently. "You've been hiding from the world, haven't you? Something happened to you and when you were called, you took that as an opportunity to hide."

Her face was closed and unreadable.

"It's not safe here. Come with me and we'll stay at the Hyperion. My home."

"Daniel, we can't." Her eyes grew wide at the thought.

"Yes, we can. We're safer there than here. We'll take the orbs and the guards and hide them near the hotel. We'll be safe, or relatively safe at least. It's our best chance. I'm not going to stay here, waiting for them to come and kill me." He gazed at her, his eyes steely.

"I'm scared."

Oz finally took her in his arms and gently kissed her rosebud of a mouth. There was no love, no lust, in the kiss, only comfort. "I'll make sure you are safe."

Eden looked down, submissively. "Very well. I will follow you."

They appeared in the lobby of the Hyperion, still in the ceremonial dress, guards standing stiffly behind them. Eden and Oz each carried their glowing orb in the palm of their hand.

Buffy was sitting on the stairs, talking to Xander and Spike. They looked up at the flash. "Oz?" she said, unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

"Hey. Is Wesley here?"

Xander jerked his head, indicating up. "I think he's in his room with Lindsey. They've had a, uh, rough day. Didn't you hear about it?"

Eden answered, "Yes, he was attacked at the prison. They tried to kill a Warrior-"

"And you didn't think to tell me this?" Oz said, his voice as close to a growl as it ever got.

"You're linked; if you spent more time listening to The Powers and less mooning over your mortal lover, you would know these things too,"

Oz stiffened. "Fine. Let's get Wesley and see if he can do anything for us." He stormed up the stairs.

Eden followed, daintily watching each step. "I don't like it here. I want to go home, Daniel."

"Tough," was the answer. He made his way to Wesley and Lindsey's room quickly, knocking on the door.

"One sec!" called Lindsey. A moment later, the door opened and the lawyer stuck his head out. "Oz." His eyes flicked to Eden and the guards behind them.

"We need to talk to Wesley."

The man in question came to the door, dressed only in a pair of silk boxers and a robe. "What is it?" he asked, looking concerned.

"You look slightly worn around the edges. Are you okay?" asked Oz.

Wesley touched one of the bruises on his neck and nodded. "Yes; I had a run in with Lilith and some prison guards earlier, but I came through fairly well." His eyes focused on the orbs. "What are those?"

"These are our power sources and the physical manifestation of our link to The Powers That Be. We are in danger," Eden answered, her voice breathy and high.

Oz fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Two Oracles were killed in Asia. I thought it would be safer for her and I to stay here rather than the temple. I was hoping you could find some way to hide these."

Wesley took the orb from Oz's hand. "Are you afraid of being killed, or these being stolen?"

"In our case, they probably could simply steal them. All the other Oracles have internalised their power. Since she and I are so young, it hasn't happened yet. But still, I think she and I need to die for the link to be completely severed."

Eden started to cry. "He can't help us. We'll be killed."

"Shut up, Eden!" Oz practically shouted.

Wesley blinked at the uncharacteristic display of temper from his friend. "Don't worry, dear. I think I have a way to hide them. But you must trust me." He held his hand out for Eden's orb.

Trembling, she gave it to him. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll weave a protection field around them, then hide them downstairs. There are many magic implements in the basement; perhaps they will be enough to block these orbs from people who search from them. In the meantime, I would ask Willow and Tara for a conventional protection spell for the two of you."

"Thanks, Wes."

"Of course."

Eden stood there, crying. "I want to be alone. I want to go home; I want to hide. I don't like it here, Daniel, there's too many people." She tried to grab his arm.

Oz shook him off. "Can one of you find her a room? Please?" His voice was pleading.

Lindsey nodded. "Sure, I'll do it." He and Wesley glanced at each other. Wesley went inside the room to do the spell, while Lindsey escorted Eden and her guard down the hall.

Oz fled. He ran down the hall, down the stairs, passed Buffy, Spike, and Xander, just way.

"Oz?" Buffy called after him.

He didn't answer, he just kept running. There was no particular destination in his mind, but he suddenly found himself in their work-out room. The 'danger room' Xander had happily named it when he came.

Oz threw himself at the punching bag hanging in the corner. He hit is with everything he had in him, not caring that his hands were unprotected, not caring that no one was holding it, not caring that when it came down to it, he really wasn't strong enough for anything to matter. He just hit.

Graham walked slowly down into the danger room. Buffy had run to tell him that Oz was upset. She briefly described meeting the other Oracle, but wasn't sure if that had anything to do with it.

"Oz?" the former solider said softly, walking into the room

Oz was punching the bag in the corner with a single-minded fury. His fists were bruised and bleeding, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Oz." Graham came up and grabbed his lover, pulling him around to face him.

The Oracle was crying.

Graham knelt in front of Oz, bringing their eyes almost level. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm not human, or rather, I'm not mortal. I don't like this. I don't want to be like her. I hate her and she's saying I'm supposed to be her consort? That I was chosen to be with her? Even if I didn't love you, I could never, would never choose to be with her." He swiped at his eyes viciously. "I'm like a rouge Oracle. All the others stay in their temples or in the heavenly court all the time. They're not involved. I've been told time and again that it'll hurt more like this, but I can't help it. I hate it there. I hate being an Oracle."

"Oz..."

"No. I know I said it was better than being a wolf but, but only because I can do more like this than as a wolf. But look at me." He pulled away, gesturing angrily down at his robes. "This isn't me. I don't know what the fuck this is or what the fuck I am. It's like I'm just used to suit their purposes, that I don't matter."

"You matter to me," Graham said, rising.

Oz looked up into Graham's eyes, a world of pain etched in them. "I am going to have to watch you grow old and die, while I stay young. You're going to have to watch me not age, know that I won't die unless someone kills me. You don't want to do that; it'll be too painful."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

The Oracle looked down. "Maybe it'd be better."

"No," the solider fired back. "No, it wouldn't be better. I have no problem with me aging while you stay young, do you know why? Because I love you. I want you to live forever. It hurts, physically hurts to think of a world with you not in it, even if I'm not there. Even when I imagine, hundreds of years from now, and you're still alive, still looking like you do now, beautiful and young, and with another person, loving them, looking at them through those eyes the way you look at me, it hurts less than it does imagining you dead and gone. I don't know if I believe in life after death, so all I can guarantee I'll have is now. Right now, here with you. And that's what I want. Fuck, I love you so much, Daniel Osborne. Please don't do this to me, don't try and leave me." He voice cracked then, and he stopped talking.

Oz walked up and put his arms around Graham, standing on his toes to bring their faces closer. They kissed, long and passionate.

"Why couldn't they have made you my consort? Picked you?" he whispered.

Graham shook his head, laying down, trapping Oz beneath him. "I think they realized they made a mistake, then sent you to me." He began running kisses down Oz's neck.

Oz squirmed underneath Graham, grinning. "I didn't realize the PTB made mistakes."

"We're not together for eternity; that was a mistake."

"I will love you for all eternity, even after your gone," Oz's voice was serious, filled with tears, as he traced his beloved's face.

Graham smiled. "Me too. I swear."

*****
Part 6: Fallen Angel Plans for World Domination

Azazel raised a cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, his piercing eyes focused on his dimensional window. He loved smoking. It was one of the things that had kept him sane all those long years in exile. Something to do with his hands. He'd always had trouble keeping his hands still. Hell, he'd always had problems keeping still period. That was one of the reason's he'd been kicked out of the Heavenly Court and made a demon. After spending centuries of playing messenger, flying around, struggling to deliver the right message to the right person and keep his halo unsullied, he's gotten bored. So, he teamed up with the most interesting and powerful demon of the time, the Leviathan, and had some fun.

Of course, once the Powers defeated the Leviathan, Azazel had been punished. He had been stripped of his wings and halo, declared a demon, and exiled to some forsaken wilderness for centuries. Sure, he'd still been able to cause some mischief; convince the locals to worship other deities or some such, but over all, it had been boring.

So, the smoking.

He was, of course, called a demon, but he looked human. In fact, he still looked a bit like an angel: beautiful, with soft, smooth skin, hypnotic eyes, strong jaw line, good build, and gold streaks in the curls of his hair. A beautiful human with a face that screamed 'trust me', which was why it had been easy to convince people to listen to him. He began collecting power out in the wilderness, and once he'd gotten enough to hide, he left. He'd wandered around for years, collecting power (re: killing powerful begins or convincing them to spill their blood for him) until he'd met Xavier. It was the warlock's idea to create Wolfram and Hart. And it had been a brilliant idea, until the sorcerer destroyed the power source.

Still, Azazel only lost about three fourths of his power that day; the rest of it was hidden in an adjacent dimension. Freeing Lilith and Dever had taken quite a bit as well, but it was a worth investment. They got to kill four angels, which was a lot of power, plus Lilith and Dever killed lots of people, thereby collecting lots of power. The female just needed some guidance every once in awhile.

The scene in front of him changed. Azazel was watching the Watcher's. A boring bunch, actually. He much preferred to spy on the vampire's group. There was always something going on there: sex, or yelling, or slaying or something. Unfortunately, something was blocking his view of the place. Azazel figured it was either something the sorcerer had done, or the Oracles. Or, perhaps the PTB figured out he could see into the home of their champions. He loved reading the notes on the wall of their war room best of all before the blockade went up. Well, that and watching the sex.

As far as the demon could tell, the Watchers never had sex. He wondered idily how baby Watchers were made. Boring, really, but necessary. He had to figure out the best way to destroy them and spying was an effective way.

"There is something wrong with your human servant," Lilith remarked, entering Azazel's chambers.

He took another puff. "Yes, of course you may come into my private chamber, Lilith."

She hesitated. "I can't believe you still want me to ask."

He turned, a mischievous smile playing around his lips. "I am nothing if not polite."

"May I come in?" she asked, her manner haughty.

"Of course." He turned back to his window. "What's wrong with Xavier? Didn't he fuck you right?"

"It depends on what you wanted him to do. If you wanted him to hurt me, then, I'm sorry, didn't happen. He acted like it was a chore and... and like it didn't matter if I were there." She shuddered slightly. "The best way to describe it was that he masturbated using my body and didn't even enjoy it."

"Yes, he is like that I find. Compare notes with the Prophet; I'll bet you get the same story. Xavier has a gift. He has the ability to make his sexual partners feel completely unnecessary and even unwanted. I find that it is more effective than brutal rape if you want the victim's mind intact. Admit it, you feel useless and completely degraded, don't you?"

Lilith couldn't meet his gaze. She looked down and nodded.

"Good; lesson learned then. Don't disobey me again."

"Yes, master." She looked back up, her gaze angry, but she let it go. "Does he really do that to all his partners?

"As far as I can tell. He really isn't into physical contact; hate's himself too much."

"Really? Why?"

The eyes began to twinkle. "Because, in his heart of hearts, buried deep in his unconscious, he thinks he is evil and disgusting. It goes back to his first life: he was a bastard born out of incest and generally despised. He tried so hard to be good too; the final blow was when he fell in love with the wrong person."

"What person?"

"This one." Azazel gestured to the mirror. The sorcerer appeared on the screen.

Lilith looked from the picture to Azazel, confused. "I don't understand."

"The sorcerer's soul, like Xavier's, has been floating around for centuries. He was Galahad, the pure, the only knight to find the Holy Grail." Azazel's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "He was Robin Hood, champion of the poor. He was, oh, countless others, some important, some not. But, in all incarnations, he had some sort of power and some sort of perfection of spirit."

"And Xavier?"

Azazel didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked over to a velvet-covered lounge and sprawled across it. "It's funny how so much of what happened in Camelot was kept out of the records. Like, sodomy among the knights. Perhaps if they told the real story, more people would be interested besides stuffy academics; everyone knows that sex sells. Oh, not all the knights were sodomites, although they all fucked around like the world was ending. But a few keys were. Like Arthur and Lancelot. Mordred, bless his soul, knew their dirty little secret and hated them for it. Already striving to be good and so set against because of his incestuous birth, he did everything he could to prove he was unlike the other knights, including abstaining from whoring. He acted like he found it hard, which it wasn't, not for him. Well, he pretended it was hard until he met Sir Galahad. That man had perfection written all over him, head to toe, eyeballs to entrails. Perfect, pure, holy.

"So Mordred began hanging out with Galahad. I guess he thought that some of the Grail knight's purity and goodness would somehow rub off on him. Mordred may have hoped to be clean, but he knew what he was. After a few weeks of palling around with Galahad, he fell in love and lust. And the self-hatred multiplied. He was no better than his birth: dirty, low, lustful and unable to posses the object of his desire. Once Galahad was gone, Mordred was bent on self-destruction, no longer caring what he did. For centuries the soul followed Galahad's around, trying to get him even while loathing himself. Then, about two hundred years ago, Xavier was born and gave up. He chose long life through magic, hating himself for a reason he will never know. He doesn't even know he hates himself. I doubt he would admit he wants, what's his name? Wesley. To think, he'd never have found him if it hadn't have been for Wolfram and Hart." He pursed his lips, ground his cigarette out. "I wish there was a way to give Wesley to Xavier, just for a night, just to see if that would light Xavier's fire, so to speak. Just think of all that pent up passion."

Lilith slunk over to the lounge and sat down at Azazel's feet. "Why don't you? Capture the sorcerer, block his powers, then let your servant play."

The demon reached out and threaded his fingers through her hair. "The longer we keep him alive, the more power he gets. That's why we're saving him for last: his death will push us over the edge to free Leviathan. The momentum itself will help unlock the door. I'd be trepidations of holding him, keeping him alive long enough for Xavier. He could escape and kill us. Still, we will have much power. And I do want to reward my servant." Azazel pulled Lilith up to him, tracing her collarbone with feather light fingers. She purred and nuzzled against him. "Maybe there's a ritual to begin bleeding his power out, keep him docile. I'll have a minion check." He squeezed Lilith's breast gently. "I'll start on that later," he amended, pulling her robe open and pulling the demon to him roughly.

She rose to his implicit challenge quite willingly.

*****