England 1880

"Thought you were never going to get around to punishing me," William - Spike, now - said with a lustful grin..

Angelus glared at him. "What's this all about, then? Need some attention? Drusilla not giving you what you need?"

"Well, that's why you sired me, isn't it? You knew she wouldn't be able to take care of me, so you took over. It seems to me like you've been neglecting your duties, spending too much time with your face between Darla's thighs."

Angelus hit Spike. The young vampire fell to the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. On his hands and knees, Spike lifted his head to look at his sire.

The blue eyes were insanely happy.

"Take off your clothes, boy. I'll be back in a moment." Angelus abruptly left the room.

Something had happened when he had helped sire William. The boy had retained something of that innocence that had attracted him and Drusilla so. He was pure and soft and so easy to touch. William needed to touch; for weeks after he was turned, he was constantly going to Angelus to run his fingers through the older vampire's hair or rub his face against the sires. Angelus had tolerated it for a bit, enjoying the freely given caresses and even giving some of his own back, until Darla had gotten too jealous.

And he had become frightened. For is seemed that in William, the stories of vampires retaining their essential humanness after being turned was found. The fictions of vampires who were as quick to love - really, truly love - as they were to kkill. It was not so in Angelus' clan; they were violent, rough beings who thrived on passion and blood, not love and tenderness.

But William did. He still read poetry to Drusilla and petted her like a child. A day didn't pass in which he needed to be touched tenderly or else he would get frustrated, angry, agitated. Angelus had tested it; he had forbade anyone from touching William one night. By dawn, William had bruises on his arms and legs from pent up energy and loss of contact. He had gone to Angelus, choking back tears, demanding to know what he had done wrong to receive such punishment. The master vampire had beaten him for William's insolence and William, touched at last, had fallen asleep with a smile on his bruised face.

Angelus thought that perhaps if he ignored the fledgling, William would eventually become more like them. That, perhaps, it was Angelus' attraction to the boy that had caused the softness in the first place. He vowed to leave William to Drusilla and keep him mind on Darla.

In some ways, it worked. William began to act out, attacking random people viciously, enjoying the hunt and the thrill of the kill. His lovemaking sessions with Drusilla, it would seem from the sounds, were at times tender and at others violent. After the fiasco in Yorkshire, Angelus had believe that his boy had finally - finally - lost that last bit of human softness and given into his demon.

Until he saw the look in William's eyes just now. It was then Angelus realized that everything had just been a cry for more attention from the sire.

He went back into the room, planning to throw the boy over a chair and fuck him bloody. But it was not to be.

William was lying across the bed, eyes bright and loving, naked and beautiful, like an angel. He sat up when Angelus walked in, biting his lip, a faint flush on his cheek.

"Are you ready for me now, master?"

With a growl, Angelus flung himself at the boy, heatedly kissing him in a gesture that was nothing like a brutal fuck.

* * *

Cordelia and Anne were driving home from Lamaze class that night. Between them, on the seat, was a bag of fries. Both were drinking milk shakes.

"I'm going to hyperventilate. I'm going to pass out and miss the birth. You know what? I don't want to do this anymore."

"Relax, Cordy," the blond said patiently.

"No, I'm serious. This is going to hurt. Why didn't I think about it before? I'm talking pain, like mind splitting vision pain, only it's not going to be splitting my mind." She took a deep breath then shoved a few fries into her mouth.

Anne grinned. "So what do you propose instead?"

"Permanent pregnancy."

"You want to wear maternity clothes for the rest of your life?"

Cordelia was silent before saying, "Then I want to give birth now."

"You're getting close. Besides, your maternity clothes aren't that bad. You only buy the best."

"Okay, but as soon as I give birth and get my shape back, you and I are going shopping for some real clothes."

"It's a deal." Anne reached over and turned the radio on, listening to the music.

"I finished going through the boys' gifts."

"And?"

"I am so jealous. They got the best stuff. Jewels, swords, weapons, magic books, kitchen appliances, china, rugs, vases, silverware, wine glasses, wine, tons of stuff. I had to practically tie Spike up to keep him out. It didn't help that Xander kept betting that he couldn't sneak in and get something without my noticing. I swear, they are such children. Oh, and some moron gave the boys baby clothes."

"Oh?"

"Yeah; I figured they wouldn't mind if I took those. I don't think they plan on having children anytime soon."

"Are they planning on adopting kids?" Anne asked, surprised.

Cordelia shrugged. "I don't know. They haven't said anything about it to me, but you know how big they are on the whole adoption thing. Besides, it might be helpful if we could find some kids with magical abilities and start training them for the next war."

"Please don't say that."

"Sorry, but the scrolls did say there would be more than one and the angels that took Azazel away told Angel that wasn't the right war. We have to prepare." She took a sip of her shake. "The only instructions about the presents Wesley gave me was not to touch the swords. That's the only gift he really saw; he asked me open and organize everything. I wonder if he and Lindsey are having a good time."

"I'm sure they are." They fell silent a for a bit before the blond said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you think you could, I don't know, transfer the visions to another person?"

The seer was silent for a moment, studying her friend. "In theory, I suppose. After all, I got them from Doyle. But then I tried to give them away and wasn't able to, so I don't know. Why?"

"I was thinking maybe you could give them to me."

"What?"

Anne glanced at Cordelia, then back at the road. "It's just, I know you haven't had any vision's lately, but that doesn't mean you wouldn't if you weren't pregnant. So maybe there are people out there who need our help, only we don't know about them. And I don't want you to have any since it's so dangerous for you and the baby, so I was just thinking that, maybe, the PTB would let you give them to me. At least until the baby is born."

"Anne, I don't know. It sounds like a good idea, but they are so painful. I wouldn't want to do that to you."

They stopped at a red light and Anne turned to face her. "I want to help and I think this is the best way I can. I'm strong; if you can handle the visions, I know I can. And besides, I'd like to think of it as a gift, that you trust me enough to do this task for you while you can't. Like Doyle did with you." Her eyes were earnest.

"But..."

"Please?"

Cordelia studied her, then sighed. "I don't even know if it'll work. Doyle kissed me and that's the only way I know. Light's green." They started moving. "Not in the car; let's wait until we get home. And, I want to discuss it with Angel first, see if he thinks it's a good idea."

The blond was beaming. "Sure, whatever you think." Glancing back at Cordelia, she said, "Thank you."

"Wait until after your first vision, then thank me," was the wry answerer. She was about to say more, when she froze.

"Oh my God," Anne moaned, turning up the radio and pulling over.

"Lindsey McDonald who made a name for himself during the Demon War and recently married Wesley Whyndam-Price, was shot earlier today while on his honeymoon. Authorities have not yet released who is responsible for the shooting, but our sources say that members of the "True Way" may have been involved. Mr. McDonald is now in surgery at the local hospital. His condition at this time is uncertain. We will update you with more information as it is released."

"Oh God, we've got to get home," Cordelia said, tears rising. "Please don't let him die, please."

*****
Part 6:

Wesley closed the door of the waiting room to which he had been assigned, needing to get a moment's respite from the mob outside. The hospital staff and police were doing their best to control the media, but when two of the most famous men in the world were put in danger and one of them was near death, there was only so much they could do against that kind of fierce determination.

The sorcerer, still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing as he cradled Lindsey's injured body, had done his time in front of the cameras, voice surprisingly steady, to tell the world that he had every confidence that Lindsey would be all right and that he was all right and that, of course, everything was going to be all right.

To compete with the news stations and reporters, were the numerous well-wishers that had flocked to the hospital the moment the news was announced. The authorities had been able to confine them to the perimeter where flowers and prayer candles were being placed. Gazing out the window of the waiting room, where he was being heavily guarded, Wesley could see the people praying, holding vigil, with more arriving every moment. Their energy was very calming, the concernand strong hopes washed over him as if they knew he could feel them and were trying to send comfort. But it wasn't enough since no one would tell him how Lindsey was doing. No one would tell him anything.

His cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Wesley, are you okay?"

"Yes, Angel, I'm... I'm fine." His voice cracked and the anxiety he'd been feeling for the last four hours began to overwhelm him. "Oh God, Angel, he got shot. I couldn't stop it. They just shot him and there was so much blood, he lost so much blood and I can barely feel him and I can't help him and I don't know what to do."

"Wes, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Angel made soothing noises over the phone line,calming the sorcerer slightly. He took a deep breath.

"It was no one's fault. Well, who ever shot him, it's their fault; they did this. But we should have prepared better. We should have been ready. We received a threat this afternoon, but we had guards. We thought we were okay and we wanted to walk by the sea. Angel, we've been here three days and we've hardly gotten to do anything normal. We've got to swim by ourselves with only our guards around once, and spent time in our rooms, and everything else, there is always a photographer or a camera or some one there. This was just for ourselves and it was stupid, but I thought we would be okay. I thought I could protect us. This was all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Wes."

"But I should-"

"Wesley, it was *not *. Your. Fault," Angel said, his voice stern.

Wesley closed his eyes and sat down. "I know," he said quietly. "I just feel so helpless right now. I can't do anything, they won't let me do anything."

"Would you feel better if Xander and Willow fly out there to be with you?"

Wesley sighed and sat down on the couch in the room. "I don't want to be a bother - they don't have to come. I'll be fine. I've got thousands of people trying to comfort me. I'm not alone." He closed his eyes and concentrated. "I can just barely feel him; he's still alive but he's... he's so faint. And scared."

"He's scared?"

"Yes, terrified. Oh, Angel, I want to help him, but I can't reach him. It's like he's blocked off to me. We are so alone."

"You're not alone, Wesley."

"I'm just so afraid. He's so far away and lost. What if he can never find me again?"

"I'm sure that won't happen. You couldn't lose him like that. Listen, Xander and Willow will be there soon; they left about three hours ago. I don't want you without your family."

The sorcerer smiled faintly and lay back on the couch. "Thank you Angel."

"I'm sorry I couldn't go myself, but it was still too light here when we got the news. Besides, Hawaii has got to be pretty much the worst state for a vampire to try and visit."

"I understand." Wesley sighed again.

"What do you want me to do?" Angel asked. He sounded worried and helpless to Wesley.

The sorcerer smiled wryly. His friend was still following Lindsey's orders. They were probably so ingrained by now that he would never stop as long as either of them were alive.

"Just talk to me, please. Tell me how Cordelia and the baby are doing. Just... just keep me company."

"I can do that."

Wesley closed his eyes and relaxed, some of the tension easing away with the company of his friend.

* * *

The sorcerer was pacing, rubbing his hands together in worry. He didn't know what to do and this waiting was killing him. It had been almost eight hours since he'd eaten, rested, washed, or changed his clothes. By this time he figured Xander and Willow had either died on the flight over or decided to sample the fruits of the island before checking up on him. The people outside were more loyal, although Wesley had noticed changing faces in the crowd.

"I'm sorry, you can't go in."

"But he's our family!" Wesley heard Willow say.

"Step aside, ma'am or I'll be forced to..."

Wesley threw the door open. "Let them through! It's all right. They're with me."

Willow launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his body and stroking his hair.

"Wesley, are you all right?" She pushed him into the room, Xander following.

The sorcerer held her tightly, all the emotion he had kept pent up in the hours since Lindsey had been shot forcefully coming to the forefront. He began sobbing, his body shaking. The witch somehow managed to lead him to the couch and sit him down, holding him to her, making soothing noises, rocking him gently. Xander sat next to them, stroking Wesley's back, filling him with the author's empathy.

After awhile, he was able to pull back, wiping his eyes.

"Thank you for coming."

"We had to, Wes. We couldn't leave you here alone," Xander replied.

Willow, her arm still around Wesley, asked, "How is he?"

"Out of surgery, finally. I haven't seen him yet. The bullets... They all missed his heart. One was broke his arm, another hit just below his collarbone. There was damage to the tissue to that area - they got quite a few shots there. One of the bullets, it pierced his left lung. It wasn't... they said they were able to repair the damage, that it only got a small part and that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. They said, all in all, he was lucky and he's alive. They needed blood but I'm not the right type and I wanted to because I wanted todo something, but I couldn't."

"He's alive, Wes, that's the important thing," Willow soothed. "Can you feel him?"

"A bit."

The door opened and a doctor stepped in. "Mr. Whyndam-Price, you can see him now."

Gripping Willow and Xander's hands tightly, he rose, face pale. "Thank you."

* * *

Lindsey's eyes were closed, oblivious to the manny machines beeping around him, looking pale against the sheets. Slowly, Wesley approached him, gazing at his lover. It had seemed such a short time ago they were talking about moving into their own house,about the quest and swords and now...

Tears rose into his eyes again, but he fought them down. Wesley sat next to the bed and took his partner's hand. Closing his eyes, he*reached* out, trying to find him. Lindsey was swimming towards consciousness,scared and confused. The sorcerer gently ^^brushed^^ his mind against Lindsey's, encouraging and familiar, attempting to guide his love back to him. A few minutes later, he ^^pulled^^ out and opened his eyes. Willow came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Well?"

"He's waking up."

The Prophet's eyes opened and locked on Wesley's. "Hey, baby," he said groggily, trying to smile.

"Hey. How do you feel?"

"Mmmm, I don't know. Kind of... good, actually."

"That would be the inordinate amount of drugs they are pumping into you right now." Wesley leaned over and pressed his lips against Lindsey's. "Welcome back, my love."

Lindsey had closed his eyes and was trying to hold his love in place using his mouth. When it was obvious Wesley wasn't going to stay, the Prophet asked, "Did I just ruin our honeymoon?"

"No. You're alive. That can't be anything but good." Wesley gripped Lindsey's hand tightly. "Willow and Xander are here. They were worried."

Their two friends, who had been watching uncertainly, stepped forward.

"Hey, Linds. How are you?" Xander asked.

"I've been better, thanks. You?"

"Jealous that you two got a private jet over. We were on an emergency flight, but there were still too many screaming kids for my taste."

"That number would be one." Willow leaned down and kissed Lindsey's forehead. "I'm glad you're alive."

"Me too." He looked back over at Wesley, love evident even through the drugged haze. "Me too."

*****
Part 7:

China 1900

Angel felt awkward under the gaze of Spike's smug blue eyes. The blood of the Slayer the younger vampire had just killed still stained the supple lips and, as Angel watched, Spike's tongue darted out to taste what remained. Darla and Drusilla had gone back to the house but Angel had stopped Spike in the yard, needing for a moment to pull him aside.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"I've been good. How did you think I would be? Life is just peaches and cream."

Behind the flippant tone, Angel could hear the hurt. "What's the matter, boy?"

"Nothing, master." Now the tone was mocking. "Why, what did you think? You disappear, leaving me with one crazy git and one vengeful bitch and I wouldn'tbe able to handle it? That you left me alone and I would fall to pieces? What did you think, that I've got some stupid soul that makes me all soft like a little girl?" Spike cocked his head.

"You're angry with me."

Spike leaned in close,eyes closed as he pressed his body against Angel's and let it mould into that of his sire's. Angel closed his eyes as well, reaching out to gently caress Spike's features.

"I don't need you anymore, Angelus," Spike whispered. "I've got Dru. She can give me what I need."

"And what is that?"

Blue eyes now stared up into his. "Love. Attention. Touch. Everything a growing boy needs. Everything you really never really needed, but she does, just like me. It's your poison, Angelus; you did this to us. You made us love you, then you ripped out our hearts and left. We don't want you any more, so just leave." He pushed away and left the yard without looking back.

* * *

Wesley lay in bed, sleeping. Three hours after Lindsey had woken up, he forced Willow to take the sorcerer back to the hotel for some much needed rest. Somewhere inside him, Wesley remembered this.

He also remembered trying to argue with Lindsey, who was so mellow with painkillers he didn't even blink when Wesley accidentally began crying, despite his resolve to control himself. In fact, the Prophet logically pointed out that the tears were evidence of his love's overly exhausted state.

Yes, Wesley remembered all this, but someone was giving him a good massage and he wanted desperately to believe it was Lindsey. He wanted to believe that everything that had happened had only been a nightmare and right now, he was in bed at the hotel with Lindsey straddling his waist, rubbing his back with sure, sensual strokes. But, deep inside, he knew it wasn't.

Waking, Wesley pushed himself up, dislodging whoever had been on his back.

"What the *hell * do you think you are doing? God damn it!" Wesley shouted when he saw who it was.

Azazel, thrown to the floor, sat up, his curles tousled, skin flushe, and eyes wide with innocent confusion. Blinking at Wesley, he asked, "What? I thought you were enjoying it."

Wesley rose from the bed clad only in a pair of silk boxers, lifted Azazel off the floor by the lapels of his black silk dressing gown and brought him close to his face.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me. Understand?" He threw the demon to the ground and stalked to the closet to pull on a tee shirt.

Azazel snorted. "Oh, come now. It's not like I haven't seen you naked before. You fucked me, remember? I don't recall you being so... Hey, cool shirt; Sith Academy?"

Wesley allowed himself to be distracted. "Yes. You know it?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Azazel grinned, watching Wesley closely as the ragged black shirt slid over his head. Once Wesley was dressed, Azazel sighed. "You just looked tense. I thought I would help you out a bit."

"I don't need your help. Why are you really here?"

The demon shrugged. "Heard about the Prophet, thought I'd drop by to see if you needed anyone to comfort you." The demon blinked his limpid eyes at Wesley. "I've been worried about you."

"Oh?"

"Of course I have. Your husband is near death! How could I not be worried? You might do something stupid, like forget to sleep or eat or throw yourself off a cliff and then where would I be? Waiting for you to return to tell me what to do. *That's * where I would be and, I'll tell you, Wesley, that is the last place I want to be right now." He walked over to the mirror and began preening, fluffing his curles back into place. "You know, Wesley, before I never really bothered looking at you. I knew Xavier wanted you more than anything, but to me you were just the person I needed to kill in order to release the Leviathan." "True, the longer I watched you, the more I liked what I saw. You were strong and confident but endearingly vulnerable. But I distanced myself because I knew you were going to die. Now, however," he grinned, meeting Wesley's eyes in the mirror, "everything is different. I can 'look to like' as the play says. And believe me, Wesley," he turned, the eyes slowly devouring Wesley lustfully, "I do like."

"So you've showed up on my honeymoon after my life-partner has almost been killed to try and seduce me?"

"Something like that. I didn't figure that you'd go for it, but thought I might as well try. I am horny, after all."

"So find a whore and fuck him."

"Such language from the Pure One. Tisk, tisk." Azazel walked over to one of the baskets of fruit and pulled out an apple. Biting into it, he asked, "So, how's the grail search coming?"

Wesley studied him through narrowed eyes. "I haven't made much progress. Am I being timed?"

"No, just wondering."

"Why are you so interested in this? I want to know what you want me to do. I don't trust you."

The demon looked mischievous. "I would personally love to tell you, Wes, but I've got to admit, I don't know. There are ups and downs to all the choices you have. I've gone over each option many times and I can't decide which would benefit me most. You are rapidly becoming my hobby."

"Obsession, you mean."

Azazel shrugged languidly. "Well, that too." He took another bite of the apple. "You do realize what we are, don't you?"

"Pray, enlighten me."

"We are two parts of a whole. You are all innocence and good and I am corruption and badness. Truthfully, that makes us perfect for each other. If you don't find the grail and chose to become an Immortal, eventually you will be mine. You do realize that don't you?"

"*I* will be *yours*?"

Azazel rolled his eyes. "And I'll be yours. Christ, picky, picky. What I mean, is we will forever orbit one another, like celestial beings, only with hands and bodies and," he grinned wickedly, "other parts instead of dirt. Hundred, *thousand * of years down the line when everyone you know is dead, and the only familiar person is me, we'll wind up in bed together."

"I will never-"

"I'm not saying," Azazel continued as if Wesley hadn't spoken, "that I will ever convert you to my way of thinking. That's why you were chosen; you will remain 'pure' for eternity. But that doesn't mean that we won't fuck. It's only a matter of time, Wesley, and whether you admit it or not, you know it too."

Wesley crossed his arms. "I can't claim to know what I will or will not do a thousand years down the line, but right now I am on my honeymoon. It's not going to happen here, so unless you have anything constructive to say to me, anything important, leave. Now."

The demon tossed his apple away, rose from his seat, and slid over to Wesley,every pore radiating sensuality. "Very well, I'll leave and you can report to your precious husband that you defended your virtue. But just let me show you what you are missing then I'll leave." Azazel leaned to kiss Wesley.

The sorcerer burst into icy blue-colored flames that engulfed his entire body, crawling over his skin, emanating heat.

The demon pulled back, flinching in pain, growling.

"Get away from me," Wesley said softly. Dangerously.

"Fine, I will. Happy honeymoon, Wesley," the demon sneered before disappearing, leaving the sorcerer alone.

*****
Part 8:

"Hey, Anne. You okay?" Angel asked as Anne walked into the hotel.

"Yeah, just tired. The kids were really rowdy last night. I barely got any sleep." She dropped her backpack on the lobby desk. "I swear, I've never been so happy to see the morning staff arrive. I finished up the paperwork I had and flew out. Is Cordelia up?"

The vampire glanced around. "Um, yeah, she's somewhere. I think she's in the nursery."

Anne nodded, then asked, "Any news about Lindsey?"

"The hospital thinks it'll be safe to send him home in about a week. Wesley' s trying to find out if there's any way to arrange home care, but the doctors are advising against it for now. Lin was hurt so badly that they want to keep a close eye on him. They've admitted it's a miracle that he's alive."

"Poor boys. This must be so hard for them."

"I want Wesley home. I don't like the idea that he's out there with only Xander andWillow to help him. Not that I don't trust them, but... I want to be with him. He's my friend, my responsibility."

Anne walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. "You do realize that you make it sound like he's a child or a pet. Wesley is a grown man, and a powerful one."

Angel shook his head. "I know that, but he needs us. Lindsey and me, he needs both of us. We take care of him. He's so vulnerable, you know? He can defend himself against attack, but in matters of the heart, he's been so badly hurt that he isa bit of a child. Wesley has to know that we all care for him."

"He does, Angel."

The elevator doors opened and Cordelia walked out. "Okay, I'm done with the nursery. I think. Hey Anne."

The blond turned. "Hey, Delia. Listen, I think we should try to do the vision thing now."

The seer stopped. "What? Oh, right. Anne, I really don't think that it's agood idea. And besides, I'm getting close to my due date so we won't have to worry about it anymore."

"What are you two talking about?" Angel asked.

Anne turned back to face the vampire. "I think that Cordelia should try and give me her visions. Maybe there are people you are supposed to be saving, only you don't know about them because the Powers stopped sending the visions to her. I know things seem to have calmed now, but still, I think we need a link to the PTB."

Angel looked at Cordelia. "She has a point. Maybe you should try."

The seer sighed. "Fine. But it probably won't work." Cordelia walked over to her friend. "Pucker up." Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and kissed Anne.

Angel watched the two women. As they embraced, kissing, a blue light passed between them, illuminating their faces for a moment. The vampire knew instinctively that the transfer had been successful. To his amusement and vague surprise, the women did not pull apart right away. In fact, the kiss deepened and moved on to being down right passionate before Anne finally pulled back, her face flushed and her eyes shining.

"Oh, wow." Cordelia sighed softly, gazing at Anne through wide eyes.

Anne nodded. "Yeah, I agree." She put one small hand to her mouth. "Did it work?"

"I think so. What the hell was that?"

Angel leaned back, watching them with speculative eyes as the blond thought about how to best answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spike and Riley descending the stairs. The vampire caught their eyes and put a finger to his mouth, nodding his head towards the two women. They understood and froze, also watching Anne and Cordelia.

"Anne?" Cordelia seemed both arch and uncertain at the same time; Angel could hear how her heart rate had suddenly increased.

Anne bit her lip, and then said bluntly, "Did I forget to mention how much I love you, Cordelia?"

Cordelia started slightly in surprise, then looked at her friend critically. "It must have slipped your mind. We have been rather busy lately. Maybe you can further explain tonight when you take me out dinner."

Anne grinned. "I'm assuming you don't mean McDonalds, right?"

"No, I'm thinking more of a four star restaurant, with fancy dresses, candlelight, and maybe a wandering violinist or two. You can get someone to cover at the shelter, right?"

"I think I can manage it, yes. So, it's a date?"

"It's a date."

*****
Part 9:

Lindsey, propped up in the hospital bed, trying to keep the large book he had been reading off the tubes sticking him, put the book in his lap and rubbed his eyes, laying his head back tiredly. "This is the third book that mentions a Perceval in connection with the Grail. I thought you found it, baby."

Wesley, his book against Lindsey's leg, chair facing the bed, glanced up. "Well, in the early stories, I didn't: Perceval did. I'm not even mentioned, er, Galahad isn't. I'm technically * not* the same person; I only have the same soul. There's a difference."

"But, it was you, right? You have the ability to remember that life?" He reached out to thread his fingers through Wesley's short, silky hair.

Wesley leaned into the caress, cat-like. "Sort of. A soul is the essence of a person, but is, itself, just energy, the essence of a person without conscious thought. It stores experiences and memories from life to life; what is stored can influence the person you are now, but only vaguely. Every person is unique and will face the challenges life presents in a different way. A past life is like a . . .a shadow guide; it whispers advice that a person will either use or not even notice. It's like intuition, a gut feeling, but not written out directions for one to read. Am I making any sense?"

"You mean that, although you have this storehouse of previous stuff, everything is still new for the conscious mind and body?"

Wesley nodded. "Yes. Since I am a sorcerer, I posses the ability to go into myself and find memories, to see my previous life, but I am not Galahad any more than I am . . . am Sherlock Holmes."

Willow, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looked up from her book. "Sherlock Holmes?" she repeated curiously.

"Yes, I think I may have been him. Xavier mentioned he was Moriarty and Azazel made it sound as if I were then Holmes himself. I can't be positive, mind you, but I believe it may be true. It *feels * right."

"That's so cool. I always thought he was just a fictional character." She cocked her head. "Maybe Perceval is just a fictional character."

"Perhaps." Wesley looked up at Lindsey. "I wish I remembered more. All I've remembered so far was my experiences with Mordred."

The hand began caressing his neck. "Why don't you try and search it out in you. It shouldn't be too hard, should it?"

"I don't know. I've never searched a past life intentionally. I don't know what it would entail."

"How did you do it the first time?" Willow asked reasonably.

Wesley felt himself blush and glanced away from his partner. "I kissed Xavier. While he was . . .um, well, he tried to . . ."

"I know what happened, Wes," the witch said, smiling gently.

"Oh, right. Well, the memories came to me then. I fell into them, so to speak."

Lindsey grinned. "Why don't you try kissing me? Maybe it'd work again."

"I doubt it." Still, he rose and kissed Lindsey gently, threading his fingers in the waves in Lindsey's hair, breathing him in. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, he whispered, "I don't think it worked."

"Try again," Lindsey answered with a lust filled smile.

Wesley did, then pulled back. "That's all for now. I don't want a doctor walking in and yelling at me for tiring you out." He resumed his seat. "Perhaps if I simply meditated. Tried to go into a trance to see what I can find."

"That sounds reasonable. I mean, trying to remember something in your subconscious mind may need a trance. It's kind of like exploring another dimension," said Willow.

"Do you need to go back to the hotel?" Lindsey asked with a sigh.

"I can stay. It doesn't need to be right now." He took Lindsey's hand.

"Couldn't you do it here?"

For a long moment, the sorcerer gazed at his lover. Then, narrowing his eyes speculatively, he said, "Willow, I'm going to try it. Can you please go into the hall and make sure no one disturbs us?"

The witch stood. "Your wish is my command. Good luck." She left the room.

Wesley crawled onto the bed, facing Lindsey. Taking both his partners hands in his, he said, "I don't know if you will feel anything. Try to stay relaxed and keep your mind as empty as possible."

"Ok."

The sorcerer closed his eyes and took a deep breath, turning his thoughts inward. For a long time he stayed at the surface level of consciousness, listening to himself and Lindsey breath, the machines around them beeping softly, and the sound of the ocean outside the window. Gradually, as his body further relaxed, he slipped more and more inside his mind until he was in a place void of everything.

Colors began to coalesce around him, gaining form and movement. The area he was in was hazy and dream-like, but familiar, as if he had known this place long ago. He could feel wind whipping through his hair, the weight of the tunic he was wearing, and the grass beneath his feet. He was standing in a courtyard with three other men. Turning for a moment, revealed a magnificent castle behind him.

A jolt of recognition and excitement bolted through him. Camelot.

/ "Where are we?"/ he heard Lindsey ask faintly, as if from far away.

Wesley frowned, glancing around, searching for his partner. / "Lindsey? I can't see you; where are you?" /

/ "Over here, but it's all weird."/ Lindsey gasped for breath suddenly. / "I don't feel well." /

/ "I still can't see you, but I can here you. Try . . ."/

"Galahad?"

Wesley turned. Mordred was staring at him quizzically through green eyes.

"Yes?" he responded, trying to remember what had just been asked.

"Is something the matter? You seem distant, suddenly."

He sighed in relief. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just distracted. It's a lovely day."

Mordred smiled at him; Wesley could see love seeping into the other man's eyes. "Yes, it is." He turned to the other men. "So, Father, what are you planning on doing about the new allegations of your precious wife's infidelity?"

Wesley turned his attention to the two other men with him and Mordred, tuning out the conversation.

"Lancelot and King Arthur," he whispered, gazing at the men. "Do you see them?"

/ "Sort of. I've moved." / Lindsey answered. / "I was somewhere else a second ago. What does Arthur look like?"/

The sorcerer squinted suddenly as he realized something was wrong with his vision. He could see Lancelot - his father - clearly: he was a tall man, powerful, with a very handsome face and thick, luxuriant brown hair. He held himself proudly and seemed a touch vain. Him, Wesley could see with no problem.

Arthur, however, was not visible. /"I can't see him; something is blocking my view. Lindsey?"/

/ "I'm fading in and out. Sorry."/ was the faint answer.

"Look, someone approaches. Can anyone see who it is?" the king asked, gazing out through the open gates. His voice was familiar and warm, somehow comforting.

Wesley turned. A man, gleaming gold in the sunlight, wearing a fine linen tunic, and with a circlet around his head was approaching.

"It's Perceval, the Oracle," he found himself answering automatically.

The king clapped him on the shoulder. "So it is. Let's go see what news he has for us this fine day."

A few moments later, they were in front of the Oracle. Mordred gave him a sip of water, before Perceval told them, "I have come to tell you of a great and glorious quest. You must find the Grail."

"The Grail?" repeated Lancelot.

"Aye, the grail. Search for it, for the grail shall bring glory to your reign. Only a select few should venture off, your majesty, and only the purest of your men shall achieve the quest. Choose wisely, my lord."

"Where do we start?" Wesley asked.

The Oracle's eyes - Eden's eyes, he realized with a jolt- turned to him. "In the hall of the Fisher King, Sir Knight. Good luck."

The vision faded and Wesley jerked awake. He felt odd and vaguely ill. Sweat was running off his forehead and he was extremely tired. "What happened?" he croaked. "Where did you go?"

"I don't know; I was kicked out after you told me you couldn't see the king. It hurt; I need some of the pain medication, but I was afraid it would disturb you."

"Take some now." Wesley slid off the bed and into his chair, resting his forehead against the bed. "I am very out of practice for that sort of thing; I need Oz to come back to remind me to train."

Willow poked her head back into the room. "I've been out here for awhile. Are you guys ok?"

Wesley nodded weakly. "Yes, we're fine. I feel like hell and Lindsey's in pain, but we've figured out who Perceval was."

"And?" she asked, sitting down next to Lindsey, stroking his hand gently.

"Perceval was an Oracle. He brought news of the Grail to Camelot. He never said what it was, but the priests, always anxious to spread their religion, proclaimed it was the Cup of Christ brought over by Joseph of Aramithia."

"So, it's not?"

"I don't know. I don't remember what it is. All I know is that the king, Lancelot, Mordred and I went of in search for it. Lancelot was uh, injured, so he left and was soon followed by the king."

"Injured?" Lindsey repeated, smiling at the uncertain tone in Wesley's voice.

"Well, that's what I was told. In retrospect, I think that the king and he may have been lovers and had a quarrel."

"Wow," Willow said, "the things they don't tell you in lit class. So, where did you go first?"

"I suppose the hall of the Fisher King. That's what he told us. The Fisher King was supposed to tell us of the Grail, I suppose.

"Do you remember what it was he said?" asked Lindsey.

"No, I don't. I do, however, have a vague knowledge of where the castle was. I think, I think I can get there again, even thought it is now on another plane. It's in England."

"Damn; I really was looking forward to wearing the hat and whip."

Wesley rested his head on his partner's shoulder. "I was looking forward to you just wearing the hat and whip." Then, realizing what he'd just said, he turned a deep red, feeling mortified. "I'm sorry, Willow."

She raised her eyebrow. "It's ok."

"I don't think it's ok," Xander said, standing in the doorway. "I mean, I already know too much about your sex life as it is. Yelch." He shuddered.

"Hello, Xander," Lindsey said.

"Hey. So, the doctor is making scary faces about how he wants the library out and you to get some rest. He also needs to check and see how you're healing. You, Wesley, need to leave because you've been here all day. I've got all my supplies to stay in the waiting room again, although, I swear, tomorrow I want Willow's job."

Lindsey shook his head. "You don't need to stay tonight, Xander. I'm fine. Go with Wesley, make sure he has some fun tonight."

"You know, I really resent everyone treating me like a child."

Lindsey kissed him. "If we didn't, you would lock yourself in the room all night, researching or staring into space. This is our honeymoon and even if I'm stuck here, you should be having some fun."

"Actually, our honeymoon ended three days ago. Can't I just stay here?" He kissed Lindsey's neck, doing his best to bury himself in Lindsey's embrace.

"No, baby. You need food and a long soak in the pool; you look tired from the trance. It'll make you feel better. I want pictures of you in a bathing suit, drinking something with a little umbrella in it, looking like you, Xander, and Willow are having fun. Got it?" His voice was stern, eyes loving.

Wesley sighed as if Lindsey was asking him to do the most impossible thing in the world. "Yes, I understand. Have fun." He kissed him again. "You are a very demanding husband."

"Yes, I know."

*****