*****

The X-wing Wesley had been playing with crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"That was very clumsy of you, Wesley. You broke your toy," Azazel scolded playfully.

The sorcerer turned away, closing his eyes. "Angel, please tell me that Azazel is not lying on my bed. Please tell me that I'm just imagining things, and that this isn't happening because in about ten minutes I'm supposed to get married in front of an audience of perhaps *millions *, and I do *not * want to have to deal with this right now."

"What are you doing here?" Angel growled at the intruder.

"I thought it was obvious," Azazel replied lazily, "I am here to see Wesley."

"Get out."

"Oh dear, this *is* happening." Wesley turned back, resigned to his fate. "What are you doing here, Azazel?"

"For shame," the demon tisked, "No, 'How are you, Azazel?' or 'How was the Heavenly Court, Azazel?' or 'Nice of you to come to my wedding'?" The beautiful demon grinned at Wesley and slid off the bed.

Brushing past Angel with casual disreguard for the vampire, he walked up to Wesley. He smoothed non-existent wrinkles off the sorcerer's shoulder. Cocking his head and pursing his lips, Azazel ran a critical eye over him.

"Well," Azazel remarked, "it could be worse. I would have preferred something snazzier, but there is something elegant about the white tie and tails. And that purple rose adds just the right color. Where'd you get it, by the way?"

"Imported from some royal flower garden," Wesley answered stiffly.

"What?" Azazel's eyes widened in mock dimay. "They didn't send you the crown jewels too?"

"No, but the women's jewelry and all the silverware are from Tiffany's."

"And I counted at least eight heads of state out there, many news cameras, diplomats, and celebrities of all sorts. Your wedding is a big deal, Wesley, a worldwide event. So what are you doing in here while your intended plays nice with everyone?"

"Getting rid of the last of my lunch, actually."

Azazel nodded, his face taking on the expression of perfect sympathy. "Of course. You're a bit nervous. Stage fright. I understand. It's perfectly natural, I'm sure what with all those poeople with their eyes focused on you, waiting for what you are going, and the cameras and reporters, everyone ready to report back to their countries and-"

Wesley, swaying slightly as his stomach began doing flips, raised his hand to Azazel. "Please stop." His other hand went to his stomach.

The demon grinned. "Fine." He cocked his head, looking expectant.

"What?" the sorcerer snapped.

"I'm waiting for you to thank me. I mean, if it weren't for me, no one would even know about you. You would have had to marry in obscurity. Even worse, you probably wouldn't even be getting married at all."

Wesley closed his eyes and sighed. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, if I hadn't made you use up all your powers destroying Wolfram and Hart, then you never would have been so vulnerable. If you hadn't been vulnerable and weak, then your demon sensitivity never would have developed and made you sick all the time. If you hadn't been sick all the time, the Prophet wouldn't have thought you were going to die. If he hadn't thought you were going to die, he wouldn't have felt the need to make a grand, romantic gesture and propose. You, Wesley, would have been an insecure boyfriend for the rest of your life instead of the radiant bride you are now."

"Fuck you."

Azazel elegantly gestured with his hand and a cigarette appeared in his fingers. Taking a lighter out from a pocket, he lit it. "You already did that," the demon responded, before taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke in Wesley's general direction.

Cordelia walked into the room. "Wesley, they're ready for Holy mother of fucking God what the hell is *he* doing here?" Cordelia demanded, her arms automatically clamping protectively over her swollen stomach.

Azazel beamed. "It's the seer! Hey, gorgeous, how are you and your little bundle of joy?" The demon walked over and reached out touch her stomach.

She smacked his hand away. "Wesley?"

Wesley ^pulled^ Azazel away from the pregnant woman with his powers.

"Cordelia, please go tell everyone I will be a few minutes more. I'll be fine."

Cordelia, backing up from the demon, her eyes warily trained on hims, answered,"Okay, Wes." She left practically at a run.

"Wesley turned back to the demon. "Azazel, why are you here?"

"Can't I have come to wish my dearest foe joy on his wedding day?"

Behind him, Angel growled.

"That sums up my feelings as well. How did you escape the Power's guards?"

Azazel shook his head, and waved the cigarette in the air. "Oh, I didn't, don't worry. They let me go." He walked around, exploring the room. "Yeah, they basically decided as long as I'm mostly powerless, under almost constant scrutiny, and bound to you, I'm safe. Ask your Oracles. They'll back me up on this."

"You expect us to believe they just let you go free?" Angel said, his voice scornfully incredulous.

"Well, yeah." Despite Wesley's knowledge of the demon, Azazel still managed to look innocent even to him. "And I came to help Wesley, you know, with the whole immortality thing. No, * you* can't come in. It's bad luck," the demon said, as Lindsey rushed into the room.

"You okay?" the Prophet asked Wesley, glaring at the demon. He walked next to his lover, taking a protective stance.

Wesley put his hand on Lindsey's shoulder. "Yes, I'm fine." He looked at Azazel. "How do you propose to help me with the whole immortality thing?" Wesley asked Azazel, both curious and suspicious.

"I told you. The grail. Surely you remember what that is." Azazel's smile and eyes were mischievous.

Wesley narrowed his eyes. "I am aware of the legends, yes. Christ's cup, Philosopher's Stone, Jewel of Satan and all that. I don't know exactly what it is. I've never studied much grail lore."

"Ironic, isn't it? You of all people." He took a long drag then pinched the ends of the cigarette before tossing it onto the dresser. "It's rather a long story, I want to be able to tell it fully. So, why don't you two get married and later tonight, I'll explain everything."

"Good. Leave," Lindsey said.

But Wesley was not so easily fooled. "You're planning on attending the wedding, aren't you?"

Azazel nodded, eyes twinkling.

"No!" both Angel and Lindsey said forcefully.

The sorcerer agreed with his lover and friend; the last thing he wanted was the demon that had almost destroyed the Powers that Be at his wedding. However, he also knew that protesting and arguing wasn't going to work. The best thing to do was to let Azazel have his way and deal with him from there. After all, he and Azazel were going to be around each other for eternity, so it made no sense to antagonize him too much in the beginning.

"I don't want people recognizing you. I have some power over you; you know what I can do to you if you fuck this day up for me anymore than you already have. I will help cast the glamour, but it is your responsibility to maintain it, understand?" The sorcerer's silver eyes were very dark and the air around him was lit with blue sparks emanating from him.

The demon's eyebrows were raised in surprise. He took a step back, flinching at the energy Wesley was pressing against him. "Ow, stop it. Fine, I'll behave. No one will know I am me, except, of course, your family because that would take up too much energy. Happy?"

"No, but it will have to do." Wesley walked to Azazel and joined hands with him. Both closed their eyes. A red and blue aura flared around them for a moment, before fading.

Azazel opened his eyes and stepped back. "It's done. Now, do I sit on the bride or groom's side?"

Wesley sighed. "Angel, please escort him to the roof with the rest of the guests. Stay with him, just in case."

The vampire looked at Wesley, concerned. "Are you sure?""Yes. Please, Angel."

"Come on." Angel stalked up to Azazel, looming over him.

"Oh, I'm so scared. The big, bad vampire is glaring at me," Azazel mocked, his voice high and childish. "Let's go. See you, Wesley." They left.

The sorcerer closed his eyes and whimpered softly. "Lindsey."

Lindsey put his arms around his lover, holding him close. "It's going to be all right. You can control him, right?"

"To a degree, yes. But... I don't want him here. This is hard enough." He pulled back enough to look into Lindsey's eyes. "You owe me big for this mess."

"It's just a wedding, baby. I'm sure it's not what you envisioned, but..."

"Please. I never really envisioned getting married at all. I always assumed I would be single the rest of my life. Then I had you and then you proposed. All I wanted was some magic wand descending on us and saying something to the effect of 'Poof! You're married'. Never in my life would I have chosen this. You were the one who wanted the show." He kissed Lindsey lovingly. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't complain."

"I'll forgive you. I know it's more than you're used to, but I just want everyone to know what I feel for you. You're just nervous."

"And you're not?"

Lindsey smoothed Wesley's hair back. "You're the most precious thing to me in the world. Today we symbolically become one. How could I be nervous?"

Wesley smiled wryly. "We are already one, my love. This is for the world."

"And for us."

"And for us," Wesley repeated. He took a deep breath. "I'm warning you, I may say odd things; I've never much been good at performing in front of crowds."

"Just as long as you get 'I do' out, I don't care what you say."

They walked to the door.

"Um, baby? You might want to leave the Death Star behind. It gives off the wrong image."

"Sorry." Wesley carefully floated the toy back to the display case and gently set it down. "Let's go."

* * *

Lindsey faced Wesley, his heart pounding. Prompted by minister, he said, "Will you, Wesley, take my hand and consent to explore our lives and this world with me? To share each day, each joy, and each sorrow as my partner in life?"

"I will," Wesley answered solemnly, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Then I, Lindsey, offer myself to you. Everything that I am, have been, and will be now and for every day after. Accept this vow I make in front of our family, our friends, and the world to love, honor, respect, and cherish you. You are my light, my joy, and my soul. I love you, Wesley." He took Wesley's left hand and slipped a silver wedding band onto the elegant finger. "Wear my ring as a symbol of my love." / "Your turn." / he added silently.

Wesley took a deep breath. "Will you, Lindsey, take my hand and consent to explore our lives and this world with me? To share each day, each joy, and each sorrow as my partner in life?"

"I will."

"Then I, Wesley, offer myself to you, and everything that I am, have been, and will be now and for every day after. Accept this vow I make in front of our family, our friends, and the world to love, honor, respect, and cherish you. You make the day begin for me, Lindsey, and hold the light of the world in your eyes." He took Lindsey's hand and, with shaking fingers, attempted to slide the ring on. He missed and laughed, a tear springing out onto his lower lashes before he finally slid it on. "Wear my ring and know how deeply I adore you."

The blue eyes, bright with a film of unshed tears, gazed into his, filling them both with the hazy light of joy.

"With these vows and the exchange of your rings, you have sworn to share your lives with each other from this moment on," the minister announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. "With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you partners-in-life. May joy be with you always."

As the crowd began to clap and cheer, Lindsey pulled Wesley to him, sealing their union with a passionate kiss.

*****
Part 2:

Cordelia sat off to one side of the dance floor, resting her feet and gazing around. She smiled; she had done a good job if she said so herself. When it had become evident that neither Wesley nor Lindsey would have the time to plan the wedding, she had volunteered for the job, wanting it to have a personal touch. Her personal touch. Aided by Lindsey and Wesley's modest fortunes, her own money, inherited at David Nabbi's death (about half his fortune pluse all the revenu from his corporation) plus the fact the entire world was salavating at their feet, she had been ready to plan the perfect wedding.

The main ballroom served as the space for the dinner. The table of honor was at the head of the room, the rest of the tables strategically placed around the room and leading out to the garden. Half of the garden was covered with tables, while the rest had been converted into a dance floor. Everything was covered with thousands of fairy lights and red, purple, and dark blue flower arrangements. A band was placed beneath a canopy near the pool for dancing. For those who did not wish to dance, a string orchestra was set up in one of the smaller ballrooms for listening enjoyment.

Cordelia had even taken into account where the news cameras would go in her designs. She had planned for everything, from the music played as Wesley and Lindsey walked down the aisle, to the limousine that would whisk them away to their private jet at six o'clock in the morning. Everything (barring Azazel's appearance) was going perfectly.

Except that she had no one to dance with.

That was a lie, of course. She had danced with both Wesley and Lindsey, surprisingly uncomfortable in the spotlight (although it could have been the fact that Azazel was leering at her from the sidelines.) She'd also gotten the chance to dance with Xander before the glue that bound him to Angel's side had magically drawn him back. The problem wasn't that she didn't have anyone to dance with, but she didn't have anyone *special* to dance with.

It was too soon after losing Gunn to have anyone new in her life, but she was lonely. Being pregnant, in mourning, and planning a wedding while living in a home full of happy couples did that to a person. In fact, if she hadn't have Anne, she probably would have succumbed to despair a long time ago.

Cordelia sighed and rubbed her stomach. Her child-to-be was very active tonight; excited, she supposed, about the festivities.

"You look so sad. Are you okay?" Anne asked, walking up with some punch, which she handed to her friend.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, it's just the usual." The blond had spent many sleepless nights with Cordelia, talking, comforting, and soothing her in the months since Gunn's death. She and Cordelia, already good friends to begin with, had grown closer. "I'm horrible, aren't I? Sitting over here, brooding like an Angel wannabe."

"I don't think it's horrible at all," replied Anne, sitting down. "It's just a natural let down. You spent all that time putting this together and it's almost over. We'll have to find you a new project."

"Because giving birth won't be enough."

"How about quilting? We can make something pretty for the baby."

Cordelia grinned. "Somehow I just can't see myself quilting. It's just so... homey. I'm more of a take care of the world's problems, have a mind splitting vision and slay a vamp kind of girl, ya know? Still," she continued, thinking about it some more, "It could be kind of fun."

"Much more fun than visions. I think the PTB have finally come to their senses, cooling off that send Cordelia to the hospital kick they were on for awhile."

"Ah, yes, those days of fun seem to be behind me," she responded, shuddering as she remember the terrifying trips to the hospital, fearful of losing her baby every time she had a vision. "That is, until the next big bad demon strolls into town and they are forced to send a vision." She ran her eyes over Anne's dress critically, then smiled with approval. "You look so good in that gown, just like a princess."

Anne laughed self-consciously. "I feel silly. I half expected it to disappear when the clock struck midnight and my ride to turn into a pumpkin."

"Of course, you don't have a ride, and everyone knows that the rags don't come until after you find prince - excuse me - princess charming. The only people I've seen you dance with are Riley and Wesley."

"I danced with Lindsey too."

"Right, but everyone has to dance with them." Cordelia waved her hand dismissively. "It was in the contract they agreed to when they decided to the big wedding. Scorn a diplomat, lose your status as a hero."

"I've been counting; they've danced with each other exactly twice. They seriously have a line of strangers wanting to dance with them, monopolizing their time. Virginia Bryce-Hopkins's husband practically pushed her to the ground so he could dance with Wes."

Cordelia sighed. "Poor boys." Cordelia glanced out at the dance floor where Lindsey and Wesley were each dancing with a stranger, gazing longingly at each other across the floor. "It's their wedding and they can't even spend it looking all lovey dovey into each other's eyes. Ah well, I guess that's what the honeymoon is for. She sighed and rubbed her stomach idly. "They'll have pleanty of time to be mushy then."

"Is the baby alright?" Anne asked with concern, her eyes drawn to the belly Cordelia was rubbing.

"What? Yeah. A little active, but okay."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Cordelia smiled sheepishly. "Find me a dance partner?"

Anne looked into her eyes. "How about me?" Her cheeks flushed pink.

The question took Cordelia by surprise. She blinked, then said, "Sure, but I'm warning you, don't expect grace from me. I'm carrying too much weight."

"Your grace is inherent, Delia; pregnancy only adds to that. Come on." Anne led her out to the dance floor where, smiling, they wrapped their arms around each other and danced.

* * *

"Anne finally got up enough courage to ask Cordy to dance with her," Xander remarked, leaning against the table.

Angel looked over. "They make a cute couple. Just so we're on the same page, everyone in the house but Cordy knows that Anne's in love with her, right?"

Xander nodded, then amended, "I think the Oracles may have missed the memo we sent out, but I can update them later."

"Now, the question is, can Cordelia see Anne as more than just a friend?"

"I don't know. I mean, anything is possible. I wouldn't think this soon, but maybe. They're real close."

"I don't worry about her as much as I would if Anne wasn't here. At least with her, Delia's got someone to connect with, a bond. In the weeks before Anne came back, I was afraid for Cordy. Same with Willow, until I realized that she and Giles would help each other through." He glanced over at the couple.

The witch, looking resplendent in a lilac gown, was dancing with Giles. The Watcher looked both uncomfortable and cautiously happy. Since losing his eyesight, he had become closer to Willow, depending on her to help him until he was capable of surviving on his own. But everyone, even Willow, knew that all he really wanted was to stay by her side forever.

She wasn't ready. Tara's death had hit her hard, even though the transfer of the sorceress's power into her had helped. With the energy, Willow had also gained memories and a sense of her wife's presence. She didn't feel that Tara had not crossed over, or whatever happens after death, but more that there was a tangible part of Tara living inside Willow, helping to guide her.

Spike walked over to the table and sat down. "What are we doing?"

"Talking about our family," Xander replied. "What about you?"

"Needed to get away from the triplets. It's weird to see Eden talking about being in the Marines."

"What?" the author laughed.

"Apparently, the Doll has quite a mouth on her. She never shuts up, even when it's not her thoughts. Graham wanted to talk to Riley so they all went over, but she's doing most of the talking. Yeah, she's real big on boot camp and jungle rot and the guns. She loves the guns."

Angel glanced over at the Oracles and Riley. "I know he was in the military, but I never suspected Graham of being a huge gun enthusiast."

Spike shook his head. "I don't think he is, Peaches. I think *she * is an' she's just stealing the knowledge out of his head."

"Ah."

Spike leaned across the table, eyes gleaming. "So, Xander: Willow and Giles. Pay up."

"Excuse me, but they are not together. I'v told you, Giles isn't a man to her; he's like a father to her."

"No, he's like a father to *you *. To her, he's a man. Trust me, I know these things."

Xander shook his head stubbornly. "No he is not. And even so, it's not going to happen and it hasn't happened yet. So no paying up. You aren't getting one red cent until they are in bed together, doing *it*, understand?"

Spike crossed his arms, pouting. "Fine. But I'm going to win."

Angel shook his head at his lover and his childe. "You two are both such children, you know that, right?"

"Isn't that why you love me?" Xander leaned over and kissed Angel's cheek.

"Part of it. The other part is because you're such a good fuck."

"You're right, Spike," Xander told the blond with a grin, "he is a romantic. Oh, look, they finally got free."

The dark haired vampire turned to look at the dance floor.

Lindsey and Wesley were out there, dancing slowly to their own tune. Lindsey's head was nestled in the crook of Wesley's neck, while Wesley rested the side of his face against Lindsey's hair. Both their eyes were closed, ignoring the small crowd of people and photographer's around them, talking quietly, gazing in that near-worship that was being showered on the couple lately.

"It looks like Wesley has finally calmed down," Angel remarked. "Too bad he couldn't for the ceremony."

Spike grinned. "I liked it when he was all excited and nervous. He lifted an entire row of people *and* blew up a flower pot."

"Well, if Azazel hadn't decided to start eating popcorn and slurping on a soda in the middle, he would have been fine." Xander shook his head.

"Don't forget the standard 'blowing-your-nose-real-loudly-into-a-garish-handkerchief' bit. Always supposed to be amusing," Spike added.

"A classic, true."

Angel sat up and glanced around. "Where is he, anyway? I don't care if Wesley says he can keep him from doing anything too bad, I don't trust him."

"Who don't you trust, Wesley or me?" Azazel asked, walking to the table, smiling pleasantly.

"You."

"Oh, me? Don't worry, I'm not doing anything wrong. Not here on Wesley's special day. But really, he should hurry up - I'm getting bored. And horny. They never have sex in the Heavenly Court; they're as bad as the Watchers. I want to go find someone to fuck soon." He cocked his head, looking at Spike. "What about it, lover boy? Why don't you ditch the crip and come with me?"

"No," the vampire answered, glaring darkly.

Azazel shrugged. "Damn. I would suggest a threesome, but Riley - ick. The seer and her little friend would do better." He began gazing lustfully at the two women who were still dancing.

"I'll get Wesley." Angel rose and walked out to the dance floor. He put his hand on Wesley's shoulder and whispered, "You're guest is beginning to get bored."

Sighing, Wesley pulled away from Lindsey. "I'll go talk to him. Lindsey? Stay here and make sure no one disturbs me, please?"

/ "I don't want you going alone, baby." / Lindsey thought, *joining* with Wesley.

/ "I'll be fine, I promise. I won't take long." / Out loud for the crowd, he said, "A friend wants to talk to me. I'll be back in a moment." He kissed Lindsey, then walked to the table. "Come on," he said to Azazel. "Let's talk."

* * *

Wesley led Azazel through the crowds of people to the second level. No one, thankfully, was in the library, so he gestured for the demon to precede him before stepping inside and locking the door. He then turned and glared at Azazel, sparks crashing in his silver eyes.

Azazel put his hands up in a calming manner. "Now, before you start yelling..."

"Azazel..."

"But you didn't say I couldn't eat during the ceremony. I'm not all there with your stupid human customs. Isn't there some sort of thing where you watch people and eat popcorn?"

"That's a movie, you idiot. And stop lying; you knew very well that what you did would be disrupting and humiliating. But really, I don't care. It's over, lets move on. Tell me about the grail. Now, please."

The demon pouted. "You're being so rude. Ouch!" He rubbed his neck, glaring at the sorcerer.

"I'll do it again if you don't start talking."

"Fine. The grail, or the 'holy' grail as some humans call it, has been around since the beginning. It has fantastic and magical abilities. The grail can extend life indefinitely, stop the aging process, and heal injuries. You can use it as long as you want, and then when you are tired, cast it off, resume aging and die. You and anyone you wish can use this power." He took out a cigarette and lit it, his eyes twinkling. "Sounds exactly like what you were wishing for."

"Suspiciously so," Wesley answered warily. "What's the catch?"

"There is none. You find it, you use it, and it'll extend your and anyone else's life. Of course, you have to find it first and to do that you have to prove yourself worthy. And, boy, isn't it a bummer that you've already lost it once? Well, your soul in another incarnation has. It might not be as easy as it sounds to find again." Grinning, he turned away, smoking steadily, reading the titles of the books.

The sorcerer thought for a moment, then asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I have my reasons," was the non-committal answer.

"Why should I trust you?"

The demon turned back. "You probably shouldn't. After all, I am inherently a selfish being motivated solely out of self-interest. Why would I do this seeming altruistic action and tell you how you can get what you wish? On the other hand, whether I like it or not, I'm stuck with you. That makes you a selfish interest. Why am I giving you the information?" He shrugged. "It doesn't really hurt me in any way and it may provide me with some entertainment. All I'm telling you are two things: One, the grail exists, which you knew and two, what it does. Harmless bits of information."

Wesley sighed. He knew something wasn't right, but he couldn't say what. Azazel was dangerous indeed. Even while admitting his evilness, he appeared both innocent and trustworthy. He was only giving those two bits of information; the trouble was, Wesley knew that somewhere there must be something in it for the demon.

"So, how do I find it?"

"Same way you did last time - go on a quest. And that's all I am going to tell you. Happy hunting, Wesley." With one last salute, Azazel faded away, leaving the sorcerer to contemplate his next move.

*****
Part 3:

England, 1880

Angelus strode through the streets frantically. His childe was out here somewhere, but he did not know where. She had left him and Darla hours before, intent on feeding off some young man, complaining of being alone, and raving about being a "Mummy." He had a bad feeling that Drusilla had tried to sire the boy that had bumped into them and Angelus knew that she was not strong enough to do so. She was still young and, to top everything off, she had been beaten badly earlier that week by Darla for some offence and had not fed that evening yet.

"My Angel," he heard her call weakly from the alley.

"Dammit, Drusilla." The female vampire was slumped weakly against the wall, her neck bleeding slowly, the boy in her arms, dying.

"I wanted a playmate; I wanted a boy. William. He's dying, Angelus, he's dying." A tear slid out of her eye.

"You should have told me what you were trying to do, Dru. I would have made him for you. You aren't strong enough right now. You'll have to try again with another boy."

"I want this one. Miss Edith shall like him."

Angelus sighed, frustrated, and kneeled in the streets. It was possible to save the boy - William - but he didn't see why he should. Drusilla was his childe and by not asking him first, she had disobeyed him. And the boy was weak; he could still see the tear stains on his cheeks.

"No, precious, not this one. I'm going to finish him off and then we'll try again later." He leaned down to drain the boy, when William grabbed Angelus by his long hair.

"No," he gritted out. "I will not die, not like this." Weakened by the loss of blood, but partially full of Drusilla's, he tried to push Angelus off him.

The dark haired vampire blinked in surprise. The fire in the beautiful blue eyes would have taken his breath away if he had any; the porcelain of the fine skin aroused him suddenly, fiercely. "You can't survive without being turned, lad, and you don't know what that entails."

"Does it matter? I am not going to die in an alley like a nobody. I want more."

"Would you give yourself to me? Be my lover, accept me as your master, your sire, and all the duties therein?"

A faint look of shock entered the aristocratic features. "Sodomy?"

Angelus kissed the boy fiercely, violently plunging his tongue into the hot mouth beneath his, ravaging it, allowing his demonic features to come to the forefront. Scraping his tongue against a fang, he allowed his blood to flow into the boy's. William drank eagerly.

Pulling back, Angelus asked, "Do you accept, then?"

The boy's eyes were closed, lips parted, panting, desire written plainly across his beautiful face. "Yes, please, do it. I don't care what you do, just take me."

"Very well." He bit his wrist. "What's your name, boy?"

"William, Master."

"You catch on fast, Will. Drink away."

Will sat up and latched onto the wrist as Drusilla watched, keening happily. But the eyes were not on her. William only had eyes for Angelus, his new master.

*****
Part 4:

Wesley lay sprawled across the bed, his head pillowed on Lindsey's stomach, eyes half closed, basking in the glow of a post-coital stupor. He was enjoying the feel of the sea breeze blowing across his back from the open window, the rhythmic crashing of the sea, the birds singing their song, and the way the light was slowly giving way to shadows as the sun set. Lindsey, his head against the pillows at the headboard, was lazily petting him, running his hand from Wesley's hair to his neck, then back up.

The sorcerer stretched. "I wish I could purr."

"I wish you could too." Lindsey laughed softly, his stomach vibrating pleasantly against the side of Wesley's face. "So, does that finally make up for everything?"

"Not quite, but almost," was Wesley's wicked answer.

"Okay, now I think you're just lying to get more sex. The wedding wasn't that bad. The world enjoyed it, we're married, and no one attacked; even Azazel was fairly well behaved, relatively speaking. You know, he didn't kill anyone, which was a plus."

"True. But still, I think we better make love again." He pushed himself up. "You know, just to be sure."

Lindsey sat up as well. "See, while I agree with you theory, I'm afraid I'm going to be forced to decline."

"What?"

The Prophet kissed his life-partner. "You see," he said, continuing to kiss him in various intimate places, "even though I am almost completely exhausted from the other five times we've made love in the past few hours, I really, really, really want you again. The only problem is," he traced a line of wet kisses from Wesley's neck to his torso, pushing him onto his back for a more convenient angle, "we agreed to make a public appearance at the restaurant tonight for dinner. We have been locked in the room since ten this morning, after coming home from the whole sailing with the under privileged kids thing. If we back out of the dinner, we're going to look depraved."

"I can live with that," Wesley gasped breathlessly, trying to pull Lindsey to him.

He pulled back. "Wesley, we need to go."

"You know, I consider it cruel and unusual punishment to get me all hot and bothered like that and *not* to deliver." Wesley sat up. "You left out that one of the reason's we've been locked in the room is the death threat we received as we were getting ready to go hiking. We were told to stay in here by our guards. Look, I can see a few of them outside and you know there are two in front of our door. So much for privacy."

"You afraid?"

"Not exactly and yes." He sighed. "As much as most of the world loves us, there are still people who think us to be heretical and sinful. I can defend us against magic and, to a degree, some technology, but not very well. If they were wizards or..." Wesely trailed off shaking his head. "But Lindsey, these are people who are very angry at us and willing to use dangerous things to destroy us. In a way, they scare me more than Azazel."

"We have guards." Lindsey put his hand on Wesley's. "We have each other."

"Can you honestly tell me you are not in the least bit concerned?"

"Scared out of my mind, baby. I'm afraid that you'll get shot or something. I'm not ready to lose you."

"It will take a bit more than a bullet to kill me, I think. One of the benefits of being not all human. But you..."

"Don't. This isn't accomplishing anything." He kissed his partner and said, "If you really think it best, we can just stay in."

Wesley shook his head. "No, we can't cater to the few crazy people out there," This time the sigh was one of melodramatic martyrdom. "We must keep up the appearance of strength to the rest of the world. They need us. I understand that." He sighed again, running his eyes over Lindsey's body. "I just hate to see you get dressed."

Lindsey leapt out of the bed and began pulling Wesley to the bathroom. "Come on; we have time for a quick shower before we need to go."

"Our showers are never quick."

"Which is why we have an hour to take it." Lindsey, leaning against the wall in the bathroom, drew Wesley against him. "Just enough time for a quick shower and a longer... whatever." One eyebrow raised suggestively.

"See," Wesley replied, lowering his head to kiss his love's neck, "I won."

*****

The restaurant was filled to capacity with both patrons and admirers. As their guards cleared a path into the lobby, Lindsey kept one eye on the crowd and the other on Wesley. The sorcerer seemed to be doing all right, although the heightened energy of the room was obviously getting him excited. His cheeks were flushed and while he usually had better control these days than to allow too much power to fill him for his eyes to silver, the blue seemed iridescent behind his glasses.

The owner of the restaurant came up to them, all smiles and sunny beams. "Hello, gentlemen. Welcome! As you see, we have a large number of guests who wish to have the chance to speak with you, if only for a moment. However, I understand this is your honeymoon and I feel that it is unfair to monopolize so much of your time. Didn't you do something for charity this morning?"

"Yes, we did," Wesley answered.

"They are asking too much of you. I have cleared a portion of the back balcony, as requested by your bodyguards. If you would like, I can escort you there immediately and give the two of you a chance to rest." There was nothing in the owner's expression to indicate he was anything but sincere.

Lindsey glanced over at his partner, willing to let him make the decision.

Wesley squeezed his hand, ^^sighed^^ into his mind, smiled, and said, "It would be a shame to deny everyone. After all, they just want a moment, right? Lindsey and I can meet with some people."

"But just for about fifteen minutes or so," added the Prophet quickly.

The owner's smiled grew even wider. "Great. Come this way."

It was a half an hour before they got away, cheeks tired from smiling, eyes dazed from the flashes of the camera's, hands cramped from writing and shaking hands. They were grateful for the seclusion of their table where, surrounded by a haze of candlelight, they hardly noticed the almost constant looks given to them by the other patrons. Instead, they noticed only each other.

"So, is it my imagination, or did we trust Cordelia to open all our gifts?" Lindsey asked.

Wesley grinned. "No, we did. I suppose we could have delayed our trip another day to go through everything - or at least part of it all - but I thought this might be better."

"We could have made her wait."

"No, because then Spike would have broken into the room and stolen something and we never would have known what was missing. At least this way, Cordelia, whom I pretty much trust, will do a through job in cataloguing it all so when something comes up missing, we know which vampire to stake."

"If we can get past Riley."

"Are you suggesting I can't take on Riley Finn?" Wesley's smile grew impossibly wide at the thought. "Did you see the swords?" he asked suddenly, his voice suddenly wistful with longing.

Lindsey shook his head, grinning athe the sudden change in topic. "* Yes*, for the hundredth time, I saw the swords. They're magnificent."

"I'll teach you how to fight. That's the beauty of them; they're real swords, not just ceremonial. Early Middle Ages, perhaps even more ancient, and in excellent condition - definitely worth a fortune." His eyes grew dreamy, obviously in longing for them, then remarked, "I just don't know what we are going to do with everything else. There is so much and most of it is very expensive. The furnishings especially; we haven't the room for most of it."

Lindsey averted his eyes and lifted his wine glass to his mouth. "Maybe we should move out of the hotel and get a place of our own. You know, one big enough for everything."

There was silence, long enough for the Prophet to look up. Wesley was studying him closely. "Move out? I suppose..."

"But you don't want to."

"I didn't say that. It's just, well, that's where our family is. It's been my - our - home since you lost your apartment and moved in."

The Prophet looked back up. "You kept a separate apartment and stayed there sometimes, but you've basically been living at the Hyperion since you and Angel were together."

Wesley was quiet a moment before saying, "Is that what this is about? Angel and me?"

"No, of course not. I mean, I trust you, why should I care?"

Wesley leaned across the table and took his partner's hands in his. Their wedding rings matched up against each other, a gentle pressure against the skin. "Intellectually you know you can trust me. You know I would never do anything to hurt you or betray you, but you can't help the way you feel. Angel and I are close. Does that bother you?"

"Yes and no. I mean, I did practically threaten him to take care of you on pain of death, so it shouldn't surprise me that he still does. One of the reasons I wanted you to stay there instead of me moving into your apartment was you were so weak after you destroyed Wolfram and Hart. I was so busy setting up my new practice and I told Angel to care for you while I was away, and he did."

Wesley smiled wryly. "He never was as attentive to me when I was his lover as he was to me after I became yours. And I wasn't *that* weak."

"Baby, you could barely get out of bed for almost three months and even when you were stronger you were always so tired that you spent the day reading or watching television. That's when I bought you all those Star Wars toys, remember? For you to play with when you got bored."

"And because reading gave me headaches. I remember." Wesley sighed. "So, you forced Angel to become obsessively over-protective of me and I got used to that. Now what? You want me all to yourself?"

"Kind of. It's not only Angel, it's everyone. I love them, I do, but I would like one morning, just to wake up and stay in our room for a few hours. To eat breakfast in bed without Xander pounding on the door, wanting to know if we want to go watch a cartoon with him. To be able to make love in the afternoon without eight other people knowing. When the Oracles get back it'll be eleven. I want to have a life of our own, separate, even if it's just in some little house. I want you to myself for a bit."

Wesley sighed. "I know, but even when I lived apart, I spent most of my time at the office. It just seemed more logical to move in. There are all those rooms."

Lindsey pulled back. "It's okay. I was just thinking..."

The sorcerer tightened his grip on Lindsey's hands and pulled him back, gently. "I'm not out right refusing. You just brought it up. Are these the thoughts you've been hiding from me? Not that I've been trying to read your mind, but when you suddenly start blocking things out from me, I notice."

"Naw, those thoughts were the lustful ones about Willow." He grinned mischeviously, then said, "Yes. I wasn't even sure if I was going to say anything."

"Will you let me think about it?"

"Sure. Of course, with everything on your mind, I'll understand if you don't get back to me right away. Have you decided anything about the grail yet?"

"Well, in my copious spare time between getting pounded into the mattress and going out for public appearances," Wesley replied with a wicked smile, "I've decided that the grail is an innocent enough object even if Azazel is not. After all, it was entrusted to my care for centuries before I apparently lost it. So, I'll search for it."

Lindsey bounced in his chair a few times, excitement lighting his bright blue eyes. "Where are we going to start?"

His partner looked at him through a suspicious eye. "I thought with the Arthurian legends. They seem to have a touch of truth to them, since I was Galahad, after all."

"Oh. Well, don't you think we should start, like, in Jerusalem? Since that's where Jesus may have been and it's his cup and..."

"And you, what? Want to play Indiana Jones?"

He grinned. "I wanna wear the hat, and the whip. I think they'd look good on me."

The look Wesley gave Lindsey was full of sudden speculation and lust. His cheeks turned an amusing shade of pink before he cleared his throat and answered, "Yes, well, uh, no. I am not entirely certain the grail is the cup of Christ. After all, Celtic myth referred to it as a cauldron of plenty. In fact, I believe in early legends, Arthur travelled to the Otherworld to obtain the very same. I've also heard it to be a jewel that was dislodged from Satan's crown when he fell. In other traditions it is believed to be enlightenment, while others say it is the child of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. My plan is to find some sense of unity or common threads in them all and, combined with anymemories I may posses, find where and what it is."

"Sounds easy," was the Prophet's sardonic answer. "But, if we go to England to find it, can I still wear that hat?"

Wesley grinned. "Yes, you may wear the hat."

His life-partner beamed.

* * *

A few hours later, their body-guards in strategic locations around them, full from the large dinner, and heads ringing from the over abundance of people shouting for attention, Lindsey and Wesley were walking along the shore. The ocean crashed beside them, wetting their bare feet every so often, playing its melody for the two lovers. Hand in hand, enjoying the view, strolling languidly, they were content to simply be in the moment.

The attack had been well planned. Sand stretched all around, the smooth perfection marred by footprints and sand castles shining in the moonlight. The patch they walked past looked like all the others; had they been looking hard, they may have seen the section of the beige tarp that was not fully covered with sand but they were too into their thoughts and the guards were busy scanning the perimeter.

The tarp was thrown off and a man - Lord knows how he moved so easily when he must have been lying there for hours - leapt out, gun in hand.

"Death to the enemies of heaven!" he screamed as he fired.

The first few bullets hit Lindsey's body before Wesley could react. He could feel the sudden drain of energy as Lindsey went into shock, staggering him slightly. The sorcerer spun, flinging his arms out, channeling power through himself as he ^^flung^^ the man away, tearing the gun out of his hands.

There was another rapport of gunfire. Wesley, hypersensitive, turned again and blasted the next attacker with a stream of red-hot energy. Another stream, then the third and the fourth, and it was over. The guards had the people knocked unconscious and bound, police already converging on the area, siren's wailing, and Lindsey in his arms, slowly bleeding from multiple wounds.

*****