*****

Winter 2004

"Good, Mr. McDonald, you are still here."

Lindsey looked up from his desk. His superior, Derek Xavier, was standing in the doorway, looking at Lindsey through cool green eyes.

"Is there something you need, sir?"

"Yes. One of our clients is performing a ritual in an hour. He's fairly new and we want him to feel welcome. Your presence is strongly... suggested." The tone of his voice indicated "suggested" was inserted simply out of politeness.

"Of course, sir. What type of ritual?"

Xavier entered the office, glancing around casually. "Oh, a little chanting, a little fire, perhaps some partial nudity, and a small sacrifice."

A sliver of icy dread shot down the Prophet's backbone. "Sacrifice?" he repeated, fighting to keep his voice casual.

"Yes. Five children, I believe, of different ages. It should prove to be most interesting." His eyes were glued to Lindsey's face, waiting for a reaction.

"Interesting is hardly the proper term, sir."

One black eyebrow raised. "Does this disturb you?"

Lindsey shrugged with exaggerated casualness. "This is a new suit, sir; expensive. But partial nudity... perhaps I'll come out unscathed."

The eyes were sardonic. Xavier walked closer to Lindsey, hovering at the edge of the personal space bubble Lindsey usually tried to maintain. He was far enough away to be pointedly not in the space, but close enough to threaten.

"You know, I've read your files from when Holland Manners was your superior. I know all about the incident when you went to the vampire to help save those children. This won't be a repeat of that experience, will it? I would hate to have to doubt your loyalty."

Fuck, did he know? Panic rose up in Lindsey, but he struggled to maintain his composure. No, he couldn't know; the Powers that Be were protecting Lindsey's thoughts so he could feed Angel and the gang valuable information. If anything, Xavier only suspected something of Lindsey, but suspicion was not proof.

What may have tipped him off? Lindsey wondered.

"No, sir, no problem. It was a mistake I made that I don't intend to repeat. Of course, the last mistake got me a promotion, so..." he trailed off, giving Xavier his trademark 'I'm handsome and sexy, just trust me' smile.

Xavier seemed less than impressed. "Very good. Come." He turned to go.

"I'll be with you in a moment; I need to make a call."

"There is no time; we leave now."

Shit. "Sir, I have a date. I need to call and say I'll probably be late."

His superior turned back. Lindsey shuddered involuntarily. This man was bad news. Holland had been threatening and, frankly, terrifying to Lindsey, something he would never admit to anyone, except perhaps Wesley. His former superior had held both sexual and occupational power over him; occupational always, of course, translating into life with this firm. Xavier held so much more power than Holland ever had. His position in the firm held greater importance and he could move between the human and demon worlds. Even Lindsey could feel the magic radiating off Xavier. He scared Lindsey to death.

"I'm sure your date will understand. If he doesn't, then he's not really worth it; just an inconvenience. Come." Without another word, Xavier strode out of the room.

Lindsey followed, heart pounding. He couldn't let five kids get sacrificed but if he saved them, he'd be exposed. If he could only get word to Angel... but that wasn't an option. He was the only one who could save them.

Lindsey never prayed. He was raised to be a good little Protestant, but had given up any true faith when he lost his house as a child. Nothing in his life had given him reason to believe that there was a deity watching and willing to help one person if he asked for help.

Still, he was the Prophet for The Powers That Be. He had worked faithfully for them three years, slipping up only once. Maybe they wouldn't help him, but he lost nothing in trying.

So, he prayed. He prayed that they would warn his friends of the impending sacrifice. He prayed that Cordelia would forgive him for being the cause of yet another mind numbing vision. He prayed that Angel would get there in time.

And he prayed that Wesley would remain out of harms way so if - when - he got out of this, Lindsey coould finally say the words he'd been holding in for thelast three years.

Late Spring 2001

Lindsey knocked on the door, feeling absurdly nervous. There was no reason to; he was just making a report to one of his white-hatted associates. No reason at all for his heart to be pounding.

The fact that he had gone to Wesley to give his information instead of Angel didn't make any difference. At least, that was what he was trying to convince himself.

The door opened. Wesley looked at him with an air of faint surprise. His hair was tousled, shirt open half-way to his chest, and he was holding a flute. "Lindsey. What are you doing here?"

The hint of mistrust in the former Watcher's voice hurt, but didn't surprise Lindsey. He was the Prophet and dedicated to helping the fight of good, but it didn't completely erase his past. Especially when he did something out of the ordinary, liking showing up on Wesley's doorstep.

"I have some information that I thought you might want to know."

"Why did you come here? You usually go to Angel."

"I only have a vague description of the demon's being hired on this hit, and I thought it might be better to come to you and figure out what the demon is before frustrating Angel." See, he didn't even need to make up an excuse.

"Of course; that makes sense. Won't you come in?" His voice sounded less suspicious.

Lindsey stepped into Wesley's apartment. It was small and ill furnished; apparently either the former Watcher did not have enough money to purchase quality furniture or he spent so much money on weapons and books he didn't have enough left over. On the other hand, it was possible that Lindsey had gotten spoiled.

Wesley walked across the room and carefully placed his flute on its stand.

"I didn't know you played," Lindsey remarked, striving to keep his voice casual.

"Not many people do. In fact, I don't think anyone in L.A. knows."

"Not even Angel?"

"Boggles the mind, doesn't it? He's never asked."

"Well, it's not exactly the type of thing that comes up in conversation. 'I killed that demon Cordy saw, it exploded and got orange goop in my hair that took three hours to get out. By the way, do you play the flute?'"

The former Watcher turned, his eyes smiling. "I didn't expect it to come up like that. He has come here before; I don't exactly hide it."

"I'm sure you don't answer the door with it much either." He paused. "Does it hurt?"

Wesley's face shut down. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

Wesley turned away and walked into the kitchen. He put the tea kettle on the stove. "Tea?"

"Sure. Does it hurt?"

The other man ignored him and set about tidying the area and preparing the tea. Lindsey leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Wesley's every move.

Wesley turned, saw Lindsey, then flushed.

"Does it hurt?

"Of course it hurts," snapped Wesley. "I told him I loved him and he said thank you. That was it: thank you. He didn't know what to do and he's still a bit awkward around me. That's what hurts the most. I told him it didn't matter if he didn't love me back, but it still got him. Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything."

Lindsey shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not, but you can't live your life regretting that you did. I think it was better that you told him; maybe it will keep him more in touch with life and the world. Besides, he'll come around; already he thinks your wonderful." The reply was a short, mirthless bark of laugh.

"No, it's true," the lawyer insisted, moving closer. "He fired you to keep you safe, he worries about you, he respects you and your judgments. He thinks your gorgeous."

"How do you know that?"

"Who wouldn't think it?"

The two men gazed at each other for a moment, before Wesley looked down, cheeks pink. "He worries about me because I'm the danger magnet of the group. You don't even need to point me at danger; it finds me and hurts me. I'm the Xander of the group."

Lindsey blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Oh," the former Watcher said with a lopsided smile. "He's a young man from Sunnydale. He was... he was a bit like me: important in some respects, but not necessary when the fighting starts."

"You do the magic."

"Sometimes." Wesley finished pouring the tea and handed the cup to Lindsey.

Their fingers brushed and Lindsey's mind went blank with sudden desire.

"Is something the matter?" asked Wesley, looking concerned.

"How long have you played?" the Prophet, at loss of words, blurted out.

A puzzled expression crossed his companion's face, but he just answered, "Since I was a child. The Watcher's Council encouraged it for awhile because I displayed talent in both the musical and magical spheres. The thought to make a sorcerer out of me and believe music could help. However, I stopped doing any sort of natural magic when I was ten, so they gave it up. But I kept playing out of sheer love."

"Natural magic? Is that different from what you do now?"

"Yes. Natural magic is magic without conventional spells. A warlock can be very powerful, but usually needs spells to perform almost any type of magic A sorcerer can call upon power without any need for spells. It is some sort of inborn talent, a source within a person. Unlike spell magic, where if you believe and practice enough you can perform almost any spell, only certain people are born with the potential to be sorcerer's."

"Are you one of them?"

Wesley shrugged. "The Council thought so and, for awhile, I did have some form of power, but it's been a very long time since I've tried. I don't know if I could anymore."

"What made you stop?"

The former Watcher went very still. The air around him changed and the light in his eyes dimmed. Lindsey knew he had crossed a line and asked the wrong question, but there was no way to take it back.

After a long pause, Wesley answered, guardedly, "My father abused me for various reasons. He was, I think, uncomfortable with my potential. He couldn't stop me, not directly, at any rate. He was a Watcher, after all, and subject to the whims of the Council. But, the abuse was enough to stop me from... from liking myself. I lost the will to summon the power needed, buried in within myself. You see, when I was practicing, I would do things without meaning to. He knew it, I knew it, but he pretended I did these things deliberately just to have an excuse to punish me. I grew to fear my own power and myself. I hated him but, more than that, I hated me. So, I stopped. It took years before I took up the flute again, and then only because I missed the music."

Lindsey reached out and put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Wes, I'm sorry." He felt foolish and inadequate; the words were not enough.

"It's all in the past. Now, I believe you have a demon to describe to me. Let's get my books." He walked out of the kitchen briskly, posture determined.

Lindsey followed, heart aching and feeling frustrated. He wanted to comfort Wesley and make up for all the things that happened in his past. But he couldn't; Wesley didn't want him. All he wanted was Angel.

*****
Part 2:

Winter 2004

Xavier led Lindsey and two other lawyers into an underground room. It was some sort of temple done in white marble and gold accents. It should have looked comfortable or awe inspiring; instead, the effect managed to be dead and cold.

Or, it could have been the bloodstains on the altar that did it.

Lindsey swallowed hard. "What kind of demon is this again?"

"The real name is long and technical, but popularly, it's called a Freudian demon," Xavier answered, his voice sounding bored.

"Why?"

"Something to do with needing to bathe in the blood of children who fit in Freud's five stages of development. I don't know if Freud was inspired by the demon, or if someone was trying to be clever with the name, but it stuck."

"Where are the children?"

Cool green eyes latched onto the prophet's face. "Why? Are you anxious to get started?"

"Date," Lindsey reminded him, lying through his teeth.

A small smiled played on Xavier's lips. "Of course." He turned away.

Lindsey suppressed a small shudder. No, Xavier wasn't threatening sexually; if anything, he had found claiming Lindsey a few years back distasteful, but necessary. It didn't mean he wasn't threatening in other ways.

A door opened and demon walked in. He was over six feet tall with molten blue skin, tiny horns crowing his head, and yellow eyes. Lindsey could feel magic surrounding him, indicating that he normally paraded around disguised as a human.

Watching the veins pulse under the thin skin, Lindsey wished the demon had stayed disguised.

"I need someone to prepare the children. I had to kill my assistant," the demon said. His voice was rough, but not overly so.

Xavier glanced at his group. "Any volunteers?" His eyes landed on Lindsey.

Shit. "I guess I can do it. What do I need...?" He trailed off as the demon walked over to him, lifted him from the ground, and sniffed Lindsey all over.

"You have been touched."

What the hell did that mean? "What the hell does that mean?" Lindsey asked out loud.

The demon glanced down at his artificial hand. "A Warrior did that?"

"Yes. A vampire named Angel."

The demon dropped him and plunged a claw into his own wrist. Taking Lindsey's hand, he tore the artificial member off and coated the wrist with demon blood.

A painful sensation gripped his wrist. It felt as if whatever was inside his skin was attempting to leap out. Lindsey bit his lip so hard to keep from crying out in pain, he drew blood.

In a matter of seconds, he had grown a new hand.

"Now you can prepare the sacrifice. Take the bowl of blood from the alter and anoint the children. You must remove your shirt and draw a circle and a dot on you chest. Do you understand?"

Gazing at his new hand in awe, Lindsey nodded. The demon pushed him towards the blood, then pointed at a door.

Obediently, Lindsey walked through.

Once inside, he paused a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Once they were, he glanced around. The room was small, cold, and damp. There were no doors, no windows, which he had figured, being underground. Along the back wall were five children: and infant, a toddler, a six year old, a pre-teen, and a teen-ager. Some of Lindsey's old schooling floated back: oral, anal, phallic, latency, and genital. All five stages present and accounted for.

They all looked at him through wide, scared eyes; except the teen-ager. He looked scared and pissed.

Then Lindsey saw the good news. There was a grate in the floor: a way out.

Lindsey put the bowl of blood on the floor and examined the grate; it was easy to remove. He stuck his head down; there was a tunnel.

"You can escape through here," he said.

The younger kids looked at him through teary eyes. Lindsey felt his heart contract, first with anger, then with fear.

They were small enough to fit through. He was not. He would be trapped.

"Fuck."

Fall 2002

Wesley walked into the lobby of the Hyperion, his shoulder's slumped and his eyes distant. Angel and Cordelia glanced at each other.

"Hey, Wes. How are you?" Cordelia called.

The former Watcher smiled faintly at her as we walked over. "As well as can be expected, than you."

"She's gone?"

"Yes, she is." He looked up at Angel as if daring him to say something.

The vampire didn't.

Cordelia caught the look, but only said, "Tell me again why you and Virginia decided against a long distance thing? I mean, all in all, you guys seemed happy.Now you look miserable."

Still looking at Angel, Wesley answered, "She thought it would be too hard and I agreed. Besides, there are aspects of myself I've never been able to explore; now that she's gone, perhaps I will finally have the courage."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm bisexual, Cordelia."

She rolled her eyes. "No kidding."

"You knew?"

"Pretty much. Actually, I though maybe you were gay until Virginia. You don't hide some things very well, Wes." She smiled.

"Yes, I see." He seemed flustered. "What I meant, then, was that while I've been attracted to men before, I've never been with one. Now that I'm not in a relationship, perhaps I'll change that."

"Good for you. I'd set you up with someone, but out of the two men who like other men that I know, one's an idiot and the other's a spy."

"Lindsey is attracted to men?" Wesley said, surprised.

"Didn't you know? He's totally gay, except for when he thought he was in love with Darla. Well, maybe he's bi, but definitely into men. But I don't think that dating an Angel Investigations employees would be all that subtle and, lets face it, we need his information."

"Yes, of course. I didn't mean... I just didn't know, that's all."

"No need to get defensive. So, anyway, I've got a class. Now that you're here, I'm gone. Have a good night, boys; I'll call if the PTB decides to ruin my intellectual activity by sending me a vision." Gathering her things, Cordelia left.

Wesley and Angel stood looking at each other for a long time.

Angel finally turned and began walking up the stairs. Wesley followed.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable in any way, Angel, or to insinuate anything."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

Wesley darted past Angel then stopped in front of him. Angel looked steadily at his friend's shoulder.

"Then why won't you look at me? Why are you running away?"

"I'm not running away."

"I love you, Angel."

"I know, Wes. And I�" he trailed off.

The former watcher snorted. "At least you don't make false declarations. I thank you for that. Please understand I had to try one more time. I won't bother you again." He moved to step around the vampire.

Angel took his arm gently, stopping him. "I do love you, Wesley, I do. But I can't... I can't be for you what I was for Buffy."

"Do you think I want that?" He looked into Angel's eyes. "Your relationship with Buffy was deep and beautiful, but complex and doomed to failure. I'm not a teen-age girl who worships your every move. I love your imperfections and your struggles and� and you. And whatever my feelings are, they are my feelings; you are under no obligation to do anything or feel anything more than you do. Don't mistake my intentions or my desires."

"What do you want from me, Wes?" Angel asked, his voice soft and caressing.

"Something more than friendship, something less than eternal, painful love. Sex."

"Aren't you afraid I'll lose my soul?"

"Angel, I know you've slept with a few people after Buffy. I know you slept with Doyle, but you didn't lose your soul. I know I can't make you that happy and I accept that."

The vampire raised his hand and ran cold fingers through Wesley's hair, down his face, tracing his lips. "You are amazing, you know that?"

Wesley stood perfectly still, feeling caught in a dream. He was afraid if he moved, he would wake up.

Angel leaned forward and pressed his lips to Wesley's. "Yes, for now. We'll see what happens in the future, but for now I am yours."

*****
Part 3:

Winter 2004

"What are you going to do to us?" the teen-age boy asked.

Lindsey glanced up at him. The kid was holding the infant, one arm wrapped around the toddler, staring at the lawyer with a mixture of defiance and fear in his eyes.

There was no choice. "I'm going to get you out of here," he replied. "You need to take the kids into the sewers; I can't go with you. If you walk north, you should get near the park. I think there's a way out that way. If not," he hesitated, "you have to find a way out."

"I can do it."

"Just be careful. There are vampires and demons down there."

"Vampires?" he shot back, voice scornful.

Lindsey pulled a cross he kept in his pocket while at work out and handed it to the kid. "Trust me on this. Don't fight them, just run. And be careful."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Just go."

The kid handed Lindsey the infant, the crawled into the sewer. Lindsey lowered the two youngest in, then helped the pre-teen down. "Go." he said again, and placed the grate back on.

Taking a deep breath, Lindsey pulled off his shirt and painted himself with blood as told.

"They're ready," Lindsey lied, re-entering the room.

"Stand by the altar," the demon ordered.

Lindsey complied as the demon entered the room he'd just vacated. A moment later, the demon reappeared.

"They're gone!" he roared.

Xavier's eyes caught fire and he glared at Lindsey. "You've failed. I'm afraid you're terminated." He turned his back.

The demon ran forward, claws extended. He pressed them against Lindsey's throat. "This will be fun," he growled, teeth bared.

Spring 2003

Lindsey lay on his back, gazing up at the stars. Wesley sat next to him, playing softly on his flute. This flute had been a gift from Lindsey the previous fall; it came with a book on music magic. Wesley had been thrilled.

The lawyer had given Wesley the gift the same day he found out about Angel and the former Watcher. It hurt; a part of Lindsey had wanted to throw the flute into the ocean before Wesley found out about it. But, it had cost almost $2,000 dollars and, in the end, Lindsey decided it was better to let him have it.

The decision felt good.

Wesley finished his song and put down the flute. The last few notes lingered in the spring air before fading.

"That was great."

"Thank you." Wesley slid down so he was lying next to Lindsey.

"Is something the matter?" Wesley's tone was off.

There was no answer. Instead, Wesley lifted the flute to his lips again and began playing. This time the tune was mournful and bitter-sweet; it caused Lindsey's heart to ache.

"Wesley, what is it?" he asked, turning on his side.

Wesley put the instrument down. "Angel and I broke up."

That was not the answer Lindsey had been expecting. "What happened?"

"It wasn't working right. The sex was great, and being together was nice but... I thought I was in love with him and I'm not. It wasn't right."

"Wait, you don't love him?"

"No, I do love him, I'm just not in love with him. A subtle difference, but a real one. I couldn't stay with anyone I was not in love with; in the end it just hurts more."

"You sound like you've had experience."

"My parents weren't in love with each other. Oh, they were strongly attached, good friends, but in love? No. So they were both terribly unhappy. I don't want that."

"Oh. So, who broke up with whom?"

A small smile played on the Watcher's lips. "We both had the same idea at the same time." He sighed. "But just because it was the right thing to do doesn't make it hurt any less."

"I know. I'm sorry," Lindsey told him honestly.

Wesley didn't reply. A moment later, he sat back up and began playing again. The tune wasn't quite as dark as before.

In a moment, a thousand sparkling lights began to surround the two men as Wesley lit the night up with his song.

Winter 2004

"Now, do I bite or tear?" the demon mused, brining his teeth to Lindsey's neck.

For the second time that day, Lindsey prayed, this time his thoughts centred completely on Wesley. He drew his thoughts away from the here and now, away from his eminent death, hoping that would dull the pain.

Distantly, he heard someone scream. It was funny, he couldn't even feel himself screaming.

The demon dropped him and Lindsey stumbled, dropping to the floor.

"I've got him!" he heard Gunn's voice call.

Lindsey looked up. Angel and Gunn were in the room, fighting the demon and the lawyers. Xavier had stepped to the side, ready to leave.

Angel stopped the dark haired man. "Lindsey; is this him?"

For a second Lindsey didn't know what Angel was talking about, then heremembered. "Yes. Don't kill him."

The vampire looked at Lindsey, confusion written plainly across his face. Lindsey had never told Angel about Xavier's claiming of him; Wesley must have told the vampire. Still, it wasn't Angel's job.

He told the vampire that much.

"Fine." Angel settled with throwing Xavier against the wall. Then, he turned back to fighting the demon.

A few minutes later, it was dead.

Lindsey rose, his legs shaky. "How did you know?"

"Delia saw you in a vision. I'm guessing that spy time is over now," said Gunn.

"Pretty much. Where is Cordelia?"

"With the kids, I guess in the sewers. Are you okay?"

Lindsey shook his head, feeling his body begin to tremble. "I want Wesley."

Angel grinned and shook his head. Wrapping his arm around Lindsey for support, he said, "Only one thing to make you feel better, huh?"

"Always."

*****
Part 4:

Fall 2003

"Congratulations on your promotion, Mr. McDonald."

"Thank you, sir," Lindsey answered, his eyes on his new superior Derek Xavier.

Wolfram & Hart was divided into a series of departments that worked on different projects. Each department had a series of teams arranged into a hierarchy. Lindsey had just moved into the highest team of the department. That was good - more money, more benefits, and more information. He was set.

But there was bad as well. For example, the new team leader wasn't all human. He was a powerful warlock who had lived almost two hundred years. Apparently he had an agreement with whatever demon had started Wolfram & Hart that had allowed him to be in employment for almost the entire 100 years of the firms existence. For all Lindsey knew, Xavier had helped found the firm.

Working for a warlock endangered Lindsey's position. It made it easier for him to figure things out. But hopefully, the Powers that Be could still protect their Prophet from Xavier's power.

Then, there was the almost ritual claiming, or assertion of dominance. The leader of each team could, for the purposes of demonstrating their position over someone who may forget, 'claim' a member of the team. Usually the member claimed was the most powerful; it was almost always Lindsey when he joined a team.

"Well," Xavier said briskly. "I want to get this over with. I'm having dinner with an out of town guest tonight and don't want to be late."

Lindsey winced internally. He hadn't been claimed in a long time; no other superior since Holland had found it necessary and he knew Holland had done it mostly out of lust. He wasn't sure about Xavier.

"Yes sir." Lindsey began sinking to his knees.

"No, no, Mr. McDonald. Take off your pants and lean over the chair."

The lawyer froze. He couldn't mean...

Cool green eyes assessed him. "I am waiting, Mr. McDonald."

With shaking hands, Lindsey complied. Holland had always called him Lindsey; he had always been warm and friendly, sinister, but friendly. He reminded Lindsey of a father, a dirty, disgusting, perverted father, but father none the less.

Except for the blowjobs. That was Holland's preferred method; he loved to stick himself in Lindsey's mouth. He said Lindsey's mouth was his greatest asset.

Xavier walked behind Lindsey, opening his briefcase on the desk. He drew out a tube of lubricant; a moment later two slick fingers slid into the lawyer, preparing him. The fingers were quickly replaced by something bigger and more demanding thrusting into him.

Lindsey tried to keep his mind blank; he ran through his multiplication tables, the state capitals, every song Wesley had ever played him, anything to keep his mind off of the man using his body.

It almost worked.

With a grunt, Xavier came. He sagged for a moment, then pulled out. He picked up a towel he had placed on the desk and wiped himself. After pulling his pants up, he handed the towel to Lindsey.

"Very good, thank you, Mr. McDonald. Now, I've arranged for you and the rest of the team to go out tonight. A demon brothel. You'll enjoy it."

"Yes sir."

Xavier looked at Lindsey for a moment. His eyes were dead. "Good night, Mr. Mc Donald." He left.

Lindsey cleaned himself, pulled his pants up, went into his bathroom and threw up. When he was done, he went out with his colleagues.

Two Weeks Later

"I'm going to go to his apartment."

"Wesley, no," Angel said, grabbing his friend's arm.

"Angel, there's something wrong, I know it, you know it. He usually comes at least once a week to report, sometimes more and we haven't seen him in two weeks. I want to know what's wrong."

"I don't want you going to his place alone; it's too dangerous. I'll go."

"To quote Cordelia: 'Over protective much?'"

Angel raised his eyebrow. "Something is wrong, you're right. Cordelia called his office today, he's been going to work like normal. So, either he's turned on us or he's in danger. I'm better equipped to handle it than you. I'll go, then I'll call you. Until then, get some rest; you look horrible."

Wesley thought about insisting, but Angel was right; he was tired. So, he nodded. "Very well. I'm staying here tonight; call as soon as you can."

"I will." Angel left.

The former Watcher sighed and rubbed his head. He felt as if something was blocked in his brain, or he was missing something important; he'd felt like that for two weeks. A very large part of him suspected it had something to do with Lindsey, but having no proof, he kept his silence.

Wesley went upstairs to the room he took when staying at the hotel and laid down. He hadn't been sleeping well; worry for Lindsey and the mysterious sensation of loss had prevented his sleep from being restful. Perhaps Angel was right; he would rest for a few moments, the follow and see if his friend was safe.

"Lindsey?" Angel called. He knocked on the door a second time, striving for politeness and being cautious. If the lawyer really had decided to betray him, he needed to be careful. "I know you're in there. If you don't answer the door, I'm going to let myself in."

There was still no answer. "Okay, I'm coming in." Angel pulled his key out, the door, and entered Lindsey's apartment.

It was dark inside. Angel glanced around to see if anything looked amiss, if there were any signs of struggle.

For Lindsey, the place was a mess. The lawyer was very meticulous in his cleaning habits: a cleaning service sent someone twice a week and he usually dusted and straightened it himself every day. Maybe meticulous wasn't the right word - obsessive was more like it. Now, though, it was messy. Three different jackets were thrown over the furniture, a few empty glasses and dirty dishes were on the coffee table and there was a pile of dirty dishes and empty fast foods wrappers scattered around in the kitchen. The place had even lost it's scent of bleach and dusting wax.

"Lin?"

"Back here," Lindsey answered.

Angel went into the bedroom. Lindsey was slouched in a chair, his hair messed and clothing rumpled. His gaze was unfocused and posture defeated.

Angel sat on the edge of the bed slowly, facing Lindsey. "What happened?"

A bark of mirthless laugh escaped the young lawyer. "What happened?" he repeated, his voice hard. "I fucked up, that's what happened."

"Are you actually brooding?"

"You should know."

Angel tried again. "What did you do?"

"Oh, not much. I got a promotion, then went out with the team to some demon brothel where I was fucked into the mattress by four beautiful demons, did some drugs, had a few drinks, may have helped kill a girl, and won two cases at work. That's all." He took a deep breath, then his eyes focused on the vampire. "Jesus Christ, I really fucked up, Angel." He looked very young and very scared.

Angel was silent for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he decided to start with what he figured was the most important. "Tell me about the girl." He kept his voice neutral and non-accusatory.

Lindsey let out a shaky breath. "I don't remember much. I was really out of it. All I know is one of my co-workers decided he needed to go outside, in the alley. I went with him, 'cause I needed air. So we were out there, right, and this girl was running from something. She bumped into us and asked us to protect her. A vampire was coming after her so I killed it. The other guy decides she needs to reward us. She didn't seem too upset and started kissing and playing with us both. I don't remember anything about what happened. I just woke up in the alley and she was dead and I had blood over me."

"Where was you co-worker?"

"Next to the girl. There was more blood on him."

"What happened next?"

"We called the office and they took care of it. I don't know what they did. Xavier said not to worry about it."

"Xavier?"

Lindsey flinched ever so slightly. Angel took note of it, but didn't press.

"He's my new superior."

"Ah." Angel paused. "Why didn't you tell us?'

"I couldn't let you know. Angel, I fucked up. I may have killed someone, I slept with demons. I- I'm disgusting. I've tried to hard to be better than I am, to be clean. And I thought I was doing okay and now this. I didn't want anyone to find out. I'm... I'm ashamed." The last part of almost a whisper. "I'm never going to be good enough."

"Good enough for what? Salvation?"

The lawyer shook his head. "Yeah, I guess. The worst part was I kind of enjoyed it. Oh, not killing her, if I did. The sex. I just... It's been so long and I needed to be touched or something. It disgusts me, now, that I needed it, that I let them do things to me, touch me, fuck me. I hate it, I hate this feeling that I will never, ever be clean or good or... fuck, this sucks. I suck."

"Lindsey, you can't do this to yourself. There is nothing wrong with you. So, you made a mistake. Who hasn't? I have."

"This is different." Lindsey rose and walked over to his dresser. On top there was a bottle of some strong but unidentified alcohol; Angel could tell he had already consumed much of it. The lawyer poured himself drink.

"It's not all that different"

"You were pushed to what you did. You tired everything to save Darla and we beat you at every turn. Me? I jumped willingly back into a life of crime and degradation." He bolted back the drink and poured another one.

Angel rose and hit the glass out of the lawyers hand. "Stop it. Okay, you fucked up. Deal with it, but don't do this. We need you; you're our spy and our prophet."

"Oh, right, because I've been running around for a long time speaking the fucking words of the fucking Powers That Be. Face it, Angel, you've got Oz to do that, you don't need me. And you've got Cordelia for visions, Gunn and Graham for fighting and Wesley... Wesley for everything else."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Lindsey wouldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing."

The vampire stared down at his friend for a long moment, before backing away, realization dawning. "You love him."

The Prophet said nothing.

"Fuck." Angel turned away and ran his hand over his face. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I couldn't; I still can't. I can't while I still work for the firm, because if they found out, he'd be in danger. And I was waiting, waiting..." he trailed off, face looking defeated.

The vampire finished for him. "And waiting until you think you might deserve him?"

Lindsey nodded.

"When do you think that will be?"

"Never."

"Why not?"

Lindsey opened his mouth to reply when he heard the front door open.

"Lindsey? Angel?" Wesley's called.

Keeping his eyes trained on Lindsey's, Angel called back, "We're back here, Wes."

The lawyer bolted for the bathroom.

*****

Wesley entered the room.

"What are you doing here? I told you to stay home."

"First, I'm not a servant you can just order around. Second, Lindsey needs me, and I couldn't stay away. What happened? What's wrong with him?"

"Lots of things. He thinks he might have killed someone two weeks ago. That's why he hasn't been by."

"Tell me."

Angel told him the whole story. When he was done, Wesley put a hand to his head, thinking. Finally, he said, "Go to my house and get my flute, please. I can do a spell which will draw forth event so we can see what happened. He might still have enough of the event imprinted around him to call it before us."

"You can do that?"

"Yes," the former Watcher told him simply.

"I'll be back soon." He turned to go, the turned back. "How did you know he was upset?"

The former Watcher though for a long moment, then shrugged elegantly. "I'm not sure. I am sorry, but I don't know." He looked very hard at the vampire, willing him to go away.

"Okay, I guess. I'll come back soon."

Wesley watched Angel go, then turned towards the bathroom. Whatever had been blocking his head for the past two weeks was gone. He felt remarkably open and sensitive to everything around him. Lindsey had something to do with it, but what or why Wesley didn't know. So, he didn't tell Angel; it was too difficult to put into words.

"Lindsey?" Wesley said softly, entering the bathroom

Lindsey was sitting, slumped on the floor against the bathtub. He looked up at Wesley through tired eyes. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I was worried. You haven't been by. I couldn't believe that you'd left us."

"Angel tell you what I did?"

"Yes."

The lawyer exhaled softly, pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face.

Wesley sat slowly down next to Lindsey. He reached out and touched the lawyer gently; Lindsey flinched. The former Watcher drew in a sudden angry breath.

"Who touched you?"

There was a hesitation, then Lindsey answered in a guilty tone, "Demons."

"No. Someone has violated you. Who?"

Lindsey looked up in surprise. "What?"

"Who did it?"

"Xavier, my new superior. He... it's part of tradition. The new superior asserts his dominance over the next strongest on the team. Holland did it too."

Wesley shook his head, touching Lindsey again. "It was different with Holland. What happened?"

"How do you know this, Wesley?" The lawyers voice was frightened.

He stroked Lindsey's arm reassuringly. "I don't know, but don't be scared. I can't hurt you."

"Isn't it 'I won't hurt you?'"

They looked at each other for a moment, before Lindsey glanced away. He slumped down, staring straight ahead.

"Yeah, it was different with Holland. With him, it was personal. He wanted me. And it was only blowjobs never... never anything else. He wouldn't have done it if I wasn't cute or soft looking or whatever. But Xavier... he... he..."

"He raped you."

"No. No, he didn't rape me. I didn't say no or anything."

"You felt you couldn't say no. Besides, just because you didn't say no didn't mean you meant yes." Wesley took a deep breath. "Did he hurt you?"

Lindsey shook his head hard. "No. He made sure I was... I was� Shit." He sat up and threw up into the toilet.

Wesley supported Lindsey as he heaved, stroking his back and whispering soothing words. When Lindsey was done, he fell back against the tub, exhausted.

Wesley got him water and wiped down his face before resuming his position next to Lindsey.

"It was like I wasn't even there," the lawyer said softly, slouching down and leaning his head against Wesley's arm. "It didn't matter if I were a man, woman or whatever: he didn't care. But it was me. I was there. It didn't hurt, it didn't feel good. It was like, if he didn't hurt me or give me pleasure, or take pleasure for that matter, it didn't really happen. He made me feel like I didn't matter. Holland never did that."

Wesley was silent for a moment. He slipped his arm around Lindsey, stroking his hair, trying to comfort him. "I wish I could take the experience away from you, turn back time or something, but I can't. You do matter, Lindsey, very much. You're important to the Powers and the gang and- and me."

Without lifting his head, Lindsey looked up. His eyes met Wesley's. "Really?" He was suddenly a little boy again, desperate for approval.

"You're my best friend, Lin. I don't know when that happened, but it's true. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Lindsey smiled and closed his eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, sleep." Wesley touched each of Lindsey's eyelids gently, evoking magic. The lawyer obediently drifted off.

The next morning, Lindsey found a note by his bed. Written in Wesley's hand were the words "You didn't kill her." The Prophet sighed, relief washing over him, feeling complete.

Winter 2004

Angel pulled the car up in front to the Hyperion. As soon as he stopped, Lindsey launched himself out.

"Why don't you slow down, Lindsey? You've got time," the vampire called.

Lindsey didn't even bother with an answer. He ran up the steps and into the lobby. Wesley and Graham were talking. He stopped.

"Right," the Wesley sighed. "I thought I was in love with Angel."

Lindsey's heart contracted in fear for just a moment, but he decided he had to say what he intended to no matter what. "Okay, that's not exactly what I was hoping to here just now."

Wesley's head snapped up. "Lindsey!"

For a moment the two men looked at each other. Wesley walked slowly towards Lindsey, running his eyes over the lawyer.

"Your hand."

Lindsey raised his right hand, looking at it. In all the commotion, he had forgotten what had happened. "The demon did it. Something about being touched by a Warrior of the light; he needed me whole, or something. You know, before he tried to kill me." He grinned, but then his face grew serious. "Listen, Wesley, I know I've never said anything, but-"

Before Lindsey could finish, Wesley had wrapped his arms around him and claimed his lips. No more words were needed.

For a long time Lindsey revelled in the feeling of Wesley's soft lips on his. Tentatively, he slid his tongue along of the former Watcher's mouth, as if seeking permission for more. Wesley responded eagerly, sucking the tongue into his mouth and running his hands down Lindsey's back and pulling him close, hiking up the back of his shirt and stroking Lindsey's skin. Lindsey slid his hands up Wesley's arms, massaging him gently.

"Okay, over a hundred rooms here. You think you two could find one?" Cordelia remarked, passing them.

They pulled apart, but Lindsey didn't let go of the man in his arms. He knew he was grinning inanely, but couldn't bring himself to care. Wesley was smiling back at him. Life was good.

Suddenly, Oz appeared with a flash of light.

"Hey all. We need to destroy Wolfram and Hart, ASAP. Any questions?"

*****
Part 5:

Notes: everything from here on out takes place in Winter 2004

The gang was gathered around the front desk, discussing battle plans. Destroy Wolfram and Hart; not too difficult. Not difficult at all if you were omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, which, last anyone checked, none of them were. So, they had their work cut out for them.

"We need you to tell us everything about the firm, anything you might think is particularly relevant," Wesley said.

Lindsey took a deep breath. "Ok. It was started over 100 years ago by some demon, I don't know his name. Anyway, he devised this thing to collect power. I guess he figured the more power it got, the more powerful the firm would be. The energy was directed in covering up demon activity, influencing juries, that sort of thing."

"How does it collect the power? And from where?" asked Angel.

"When you join the firm, you have to go through this ritual. It's in a temple beneath the building. I know it's there because it's in the files, but they never take anyone down there without blindfolding them, so I don't know where the entrance is. There's a lot of chanting, then they slit your wrist and sprinkle blood on a small glass orb. Then they press that orb to a larger on, really big, I mean, and the little one somehow merges with the large one. Holland said it takes a portion of your life force. Clients have to do the same thing, but they get to negotiate how much. Russell Winters, remember him? He gave about half and would renew each year; some only give a quarter or whatever."

Gunn leaned over. "How many employees and clients are we talking about all together?"

Lindsey met his gaze. "Somewhere over three thousand, I think."

"That's a lot of power."

"It's not all in one place," Oz said suddenly. "If it were, you'd be able to tell. Someone is siphoning off the power and storing it some where else."

"Holland said that all the power was directed into the firm. I don't think he thought he was lying."

Wesley shook his head. "He probably didn't know the truth. Oz is right, though, you can't store that kind of power without even the most oblivious of humans noticing. I'm betting that the firm is simply an excuse to gather the power and the demon has been taking what he needs and storing that."

"What does that mean?" Cordelia responded.

Oz and Wesley looked at each other for a moment. Then Wesley remarked, "If we destroy the power source, Wolfram and Hart will be destroyed. However, the demon who created the firm most likely will not feel the effects. While he may rebuild the firm-"

"He won't," Oz interrupted. "Anything storing that much power for that long won't need much more. Whatever his plans are, it'd take more energy to rebuild than to move on."

"Who's the demon? Do we know?" Angel asked.

"No. He's keeping himself hidden from the PTB."

"How is that possible?"

"The power; he's collected it long enough to be able to hide himself. Before, well, I guess he wasn't important enough to pay attention to."

Graham leaned forward. "So how do we destroy the power source?"

The gang looked at each other, trying to see if anyone had any ideas.

Gunn spoke up first. "We could try that thing where one of us brings a vampire into the building so Angel can sneak in."

"Of course, they pretty much know what you look like now, so it won't work as well," Lindsey replied.

"They ain't going to kill me."

"Most likely not," was the concession.

"Can this orb be crushed?" Angel asked.

Lindsey shook his head. "I doubt it. Not physically at any rate."

Oz shook his head. "No. It has to be magic."

"I may have a spell."

Everyone looked at Wesley.

"It's one of the music spells. It's a fairly complex tune, lots of notes and a complicated rhythm; there's also a chant that goes along with it. Someone else would have to do that, but I can do the song, I think. It would need to be done precisely, or it may not work."

Lindsey leaned towards him. "Do you have enough power to do it?"

Wesley looked at him seriously. "I have to try." He rose. "I'll go to my apartment and get the book and instrument."

"No!" the Oracle, the Seer, and the Prophet suddenly shouted. They looked at each other in confusion, then back at Wesley.

"You're in danger," Oz told him. "Stay here."

"Danger?"

"Fuck. I should have known Xavier would have guessed something. I doubt the PTB's protection extended much after I left." Lindsey reached over and squeezed Wesley's hand.

"Does anyone want to explain to those of us who fight what the hell just happened?" Angel broke in.

Cordelia glanced at her boss. "I think I just had my first painless message, kind of a powerful IM. Sudden knowledge that Wesley is in trouble. All three of us links got it, just to make sure the message got through."

Angel nodded. "Okay, this is what's going to happen. I'll go to Wes's apartment and get the supplies. The rest of you stay here and protect Wesley."

"I'll need more than just the flute and book. Incense, I think, and some herbs to make a power circle. Everything is listed in book."

"Fine. Cordelia, while I'm gone, hop on the computer and see if you can find any records telling us where the entrance is. The rest of you look of the books."

"Graham and I can do it," Oz said. He glanced speculatively over at Lindsey and Wesley.

"Alright. I'll be back soon." Angel left.

Everyone else sat and looking at each other.

"So," Cordelia said. "I think I'll jump in the shower real fast to get the sewer smell off me before I get cracking on the computer."

Gunn reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'll stand over your shoulder and ask if you've found anything."

Cordelia rose. "In the shower or on the computer?" she teased as she left the room.

Her boyfriend just smiled and didn't answer.

Oz and Graham looked at each other. "Books and food?" Oz asked.

Graham smiled. Since discovering that Graham was an excellent cook, whenever they researched, he usually whipped something up to go along with it.

"Books and food," Graham replied.

That left Lindsey and Wesley together. Lindsey cleared his throat. "So, uh, I'm in love with you, and I want to, you know, make love to you, but if you want to take things slow, I understand."

The former watcher leaned over and kissed Lindsey. He gently traced the lawyer's lips with his tongue, hand threading though his hair. After exploring Lindsey's mouth while time stood still for both of them, Wesley pulled back a little.

"Fuck taking things slow. Upstairs, now." He rose and walked away.

Lindsey sat feeling stunned. Then he shrugged and ran after his lover.

*****