Angel paced in his room, feeling restless. He hated waiting. Sitting in his room, alone, in the dark, reflecting over his life, that he could do. He had practiced until he had made it an art. Waiting for the right time to attack was different. Angel could feel anticipation crawling over him goading him to do something, while he knew all he could do was sit back and wait.

From down the hall, the rich, full sound of a flute sounded. Angel stopped for a moment, listening. Wesley's playing was beautiful. He'd been practicing the spell for over an hour now. The vampire held his proverbial breath as the former watcher neared the most complex part of the piece; once again, the sure rhythm faltered and discordant notes were played.

Angel growled. How long was this going to take?

"You always struck me as the patient type before. Now look at you." The voice tsked.

Startled, Angel whirled. Perched atop the dresser, leaning forward and swinging his translucent legs was Doyle.

"Doyle?"

"Very good. I was afraid you might have forgotten me."

"Doyle," repeated Angel. His mind was whirling as long faded memories and emotions swirled in him.

Doyle cocked his head to the side and slid off the dresser. "You already said that. You might want to move on to, 'It's good to see you, I've missed you, what are you doing here?'" Doyle walked past the vampire, smiling flirtatiously, and stopped next to the bed.

Angel cleared his throat. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. They don't let me watch you much. Funny, I was sure I had read in the brochure that there would be unlimited mortal gazing once I got to the other side, but it's not true. I'm their errand boy; whenever I get a chance, I can sneak a peek, but it's not as often as I'd like."

"Errand boy?"

"Oh yeah, no rest for those who died heroically. They gave me a choice: oblivion or help with the fight. Apparently, those were my only two choices, unlike some who get eternal paradise and all that. I think they kinda cornered me. Still, I get to see you. I get to be here, so I'm doing okay."

The vampire walked closer to the ghost. "You're more solid than you were a moment ago." He touched Doyle; his skin was cool and otherworldly, but not like a vampire's skin. It was unlike Angel had ever felt.

Doyle looked up at Angel though luminous eyes. "I've come to deliver some advice. I don't know how long I get to stay, and they certainly didn't say anything about me turning solid."

"Has it ever happened before?"

"Only when I have to stay with the person I'm with a long time, over the course of several days. But I usually know beforehand if that happens."

Angel ran his hand through Doyle's soft hair then down his face, caressing him. "I want you to stay."

"Somehow I don't think it's up to you."

"What's your message?" Angel stepped closer, his hands resting on Doyle's collar. The shirt, now that it was getting color, was a garish shade. Dead five years and his taste in fashion was still questionable.

"Protect that Watcher."

"No kidding."

"Seriously; he's the key to destroying Wolfram and Hart."

"Why are the Powers that Be suddenly so keen on destroying them?"

Doyle let out a sound that might have been a laugh. "They finally realized that some of their exiled demons have disappeared from both their sights and their records, so to speak. One or all of them set up Wolfram and Hart to gather power. It's bad news that they've completely vanished; it means that they've grown a bit too powerful. So, we need you to destroy the power source."

"But that won't destroy whoever is behind this, right? That's what Oz was saying."

"Probably not."

Angel sighed and sat on the bed, pulling Doyle towards him. "Is something going to happen to Wesley?"

Doyle shrugged. "I'd keep an eye on him. He's powerful, Angel, very powerful. Didn't you know that?"

"He hides it. I couldn't tell. I still wouldn't know if he wasn't so sure he could destroy this thing." Another discordant note floated down the hall. Angel winced. "That is, if he can learn the play that damn song."

"Do you love him?"

Angel looked at Doyle in surprise, then nodded. "Yes; I do."

"Then why is he in the room with the Prophet and not here with you? I know you were together. Please don't tell me you're living your unlife in mourning for those you can't have."

Angel leaned forward and kissed Doyle. His lips melded with the familiar ones, long missed and always longed for. Reluctantly, he pulled away. "No," he said. "It wasn't right with Wesley. I need... Someone else. I want you, but you're dead." Angel shook his head at the irony of the situation. "I'm not hiding or mourning; I think I'm waiting."

Doyle kissed Angel's forehead. "Don't wait forever." He smiled. "It's funny, though; the Watcher and the Prophet: eyes and mouth. They fit. Make sure when you get into the temple, the Prophet stays close to Wesley."

"I was planning on keeping them apart so they don't distract one another."

Doyle shook his head. "They're connected somehow. Being near the Prophet will enhance Wesley's power. The spell has a greater chance at being more successful if they're together. 'Sides, there is the spoken part. The Prophet can put his mouth to use and do the chant."

Angel shook his head tying to sort out the information. "What do you mean, they're connected? They didn't tell me."

"They may not know. It's a subtle thing."

"Oh." Angel paused. "You're completely solid."

"That I am."

"Do you think you're going anywhere?"

Doyle shook his head. "You're pretty horny for a dead guy. Come to think of it, so am I."

Angle pulled his departed friend to him, turned around, and pinned Doyle to the bed beneath him. "Good. Then it works out, doesn't it?" He pressed his lips against the ghosts eager ones, losing himself in the sensations of pleasure.

*****
Part 7:

Oz put the book he was reading down and began to massage his temples. His eyes were screwed tight as if with pain and he was breathing heavily.

"Are you all right?"

The Oracle looked up into Graham's concerned eyes. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just a bit of a headache; the PTB are very vocal today."

Graham sat down across from Oz. Tentatively, he reached out. Oz slid his hand across the table and intertwined his fingers with his lovers.

"What's it like?"

Oz blinked. They had been together for a few months and Graham had never asked much about Oz's duties. He seemed more content and eager to learn about the man Instead. Either that, or the fact that Oz was a partially supernatural being bothered him.

"Well," he answered slowly, trying to word his answer right, "it's like hearing a lot of people talk all at once, only they're in another room and they're talking softly and quickly. You know they are there, but you can't quite make it allout unless once calls to you directly. Only now, it's like there are a lot of people fighting or just really upset. Even if you're little or whatever, you can hear the distress and it bothers you, but you can't catch the words. It's kind of like listening to Devon's parents; they fought all the time."

There was no need to explain who Devon had been and what he had meant to Oz. The two men had discussed that long before.

"Then, they manipulate me sometimes. Talk through me. Earlier, when I kept interrupting and making declarative statements, that's not really me. I've always been content to listen and follow orders in battle-type situations. Talking this much? Not really my style, and yet I do it."

"So, it's them taking control, giving orders and not you?"

Oz shook his head. "No, it's me. They send the information, along with the urgency. I kind of just react strongly, I guess. I never used to be so pushy."

"I wouldn't call it pushy, just confident. A born leader. Who knows? You may have been able to make it in the military."

"Naw, guys like you would have eaten me for lunch." He grinned, then his face grew more serious as his eyes turned inward, listening. "I wish they'd either shut up or tell me more. I feel all their frustration and know they know more than they're telling us, but I can't do anything about it."

Graham's hand tightened on Oz's hand. Keeping both his face and voice neutral, he asked Oz, "Can you die?"

Oz considered the question before answering. "The Oracles for this area who proceeded me were born into it. They were chosen before birth to give advice and vague warnings. As near I can tell, they were born Immortal, but they were killed. I think any of the messengers and servants can be killed; some just can't die from sickness or old age. I don't know what they did to me. I guess I can be killed, but I don't know about the other thing." He winced again as pain flashed through his head.

"Is this really better than being a wolf?"

Oz opened his eyes and looked seriously into Graham's. "Yes. I don't like the idea that three times a month I may lose control, that inside me lives a killer. Except for vampires and demons, I don't like to fight. I'd rather hang back and talk my way out of things. The pain and inconvenience of this is better than the wolf." Oz looked away. "Listen, I know it's not easy, never knowing if I'll be able to stay for a day, much less a weekend. I know the last few times we tried to do anything normal I was called away and that sucks. If you want..."

"No," interrupted Graham. "I'm not going to leave you. I'm too much a part of all this and you're too much a part of me. I- I love you."

It was the first time either one of them had said it.

Oz felt a smile growing across his face. "Yeah, me too." He stood up and walked close to Graham. Slipping his arm around the larger man, Oz leaned in. kissing him, trying to push all his feelings into the one kiss, pressing his body against that of his lovers.

"Boy, what is this, the Love Boat? Things were never this cosy back at the old place," an unfamiliar voice with an Irish lilt remarked.

Graham and Oz pulled apart. Angel had just walked in with a stranger, although he did look vaguely familiar to the Oracle. Oz gazed seriously at him. "You're Doyle, right?"

"That's right. Nice to know you remember me."

"You're going to get them into the temple."

Doyle blinked in surprise. "Really? No one told me that."

Oz nodded. "That's why you're still here. You get to help."

Doyle grinned up at Angel. "I think I can live with that."

"Why him?" Angel asked.

"He's not alive. He won't set off any of the alarms or traps. He can get in, destroy whatever protection they have in there, then let Wesley and Lindsey in."

"When we find the entrance."

"Right."

"Angel!" Cordelia's terrified scream came suddenly from upstairs.

Angel and Graham charged out of the kitchen, heading for the lobby stairs. Cordelia was running down towards them, breathing heavily.

"Four of them, demons," she gasped.

"Fuck. Wesley," Angel growled. He sprinted up the stairs towards Wesley's room.

Gunn was trying to distract the demons, Lindsey beside him. As Angel approached, one of the demons threw Lindsey aside, tossing him against the wall as if he weighed nothing. Lindsey crashed hard and slid to the ground, gasping for air.

Angel called back to the people behind him, "Get weapons," before joining the fray.

The demons were small and compact, but very strong. They were about five foot three, blue, with smooth, slick skin. They were also very fast. Angel managed to grab hold of one and break his neck before it noticed him. Another demon grabbed him and threw the vampire on his back. They fought, neither on gaining the advantage, being about the same strength.

Lindsey appeared over him, an axe in his hand. Before he could swing it down, the demon turned and launched himself at the lawyer. Lindsey fell, losing his grip; the axe slid across the floor.

Wesley picked it up. Angel, who was struggling to pull the demon off Lindsey, shouted, "Wesley, get out of here!"

The Watcher ignored him. "Gunn!" he called.

Gunn spun from the demon he was fighting. Wesley tossed the axe, which the younger man caught easily. He pivoted on his heel, neatly slicing the demon in half.

"Two down. Fuck, look out, Wesley!"

Wesley tried to dodge, but one of the demons caught him. It began pulling him into the bedroom. Graham leapt from behind, a dagger clutched in each hand. He landed on the demon's back, daggers buried up to the hilts, then jumped back off. Blood oozed from around the daggers.

The demon screamed and turned on his attacker. Wesley took the demons distraction to slip into the room. He emerged with an ornate sword.

"Graham, down."

Graham ducked. Wesley swung the sword. It lodged itself in the neck of the demon. Screaming again, it turned back to the watcher. Graham pulled the sword out then rammed it through the demon. It fell, blood flowing in waves.

Angel managed to pull the creature off Lindsey. He vamped out, spun the demon so it faced him, then tore it's throat out. Blood sprayed over his face before he dropped it.

Lindsey rose and went over to Wesley. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course."

Doyle walked up and pushed one of the demons with his toe. "These things aren't pretty."

Wesley, Cordelia, and Lindsey looked at him in amazement. Doyle grinned. "Hey all. Surprised to see me?"

"What are you doing here?" Cordelia asked, her voice shaky.

"I'm here to help, Princess. Since I'm dead, I can get you into the temple."

"Okay. Now that's just weird. Dead guys all over the place," Gunn remarked. He glanced down at the demons. "What were these?"

"Assassins," replied Wesley. "Highly trained, extremely diligent. Very intelligent, but only in combat and tracking. They never do anything independently; they must be summoned and bound to another being, usually a stronger demon or warlock."

"Xavier." Lindsey looked up at the group. " Xavier sent them. He knows about you."

"What about me?"

Oz stepped closer to the group. "He knows you're the key to destroying the power source, the only one powerful enough. How long has he been with the firm?"

"Since the beginning. He's not quite human anymore."

"We need to find the temple, get in and destroy it before anything else happens," Angel said. He wiped the demon blood off of his face. "Any luck yet?" he asked Cordelia.

She nodded. "Actually, found it. It's located two levels below the office building. There are two ways in: one is through a passage that leads from upstairs, except you can only get in through there if someone lets you in. The other entrance begins two buildings over. There's a charm that only allows one person a day to enter through that way. What we need is someone to get in through there, then open the other door to let everyone else in. Both have sensors, gadgets, and wards to keep unwanted people out."

"How did you find all that out?" Wesley asked.

"Some of it is in the company records for employees; I pretended I was Lindsey. I called Willow and she helped break into the mainframe computer where the rest of the info was."

"Ok, here's the plan," said Angel. "Doyle will enter, disarm whatever he can. Kill the shamans, if you have to. Then you'll signal Lindsey, Wesley, Graham, and Oz to enter and take them into the temple. Gunn and Cordelia will remain outside the building, guarding the entrance and handling communication."

"What about you?"

Angel smiled, a feral expression in his eyes. "I think it's time Xavier and I had a little talk," he answered. "Wes, can you do the spell?"

"I'm ready."

"All right; get the weapons and supplies; we leave in an hour."

*****
Part 8:

Doyle finished slitting the last shaman's throat. He turned to the surveillance monitors and waved his hand over it. Immediately, the entire board short circuited, removing security for the entire building. He turned and grinned at Oz. "Tell them to come in."

The Oracle raised the small blue walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Cordy, the building is clear. Send them in."

"They're on their way."

Doyle and Oz turned and walked back down to the service entrance, taking the stairs to lowest level. Just before the team had left, it was discovered that Doyle couldn't operate any type of machinery without it short-circuiting. Oz managed to transport himself inside the building - when he tried to get into the temple directly, he had bounced off some sort of force field unlike he'd ever experienced.

Wesley, Lindsey, and Graham were at the entrance of the tunnel leading into the temple. Doyle had propped the door open so they could get in, but they agreed to wait until their entire group was convened.

"Any problems?" Oz asked.

Lindsey shook his head. "There're not many people here at this hour and those that are don't seem to find my presence unusual. I'm betting Xavier hasn't informed the firm at large of my new status."

Oz nodded. "Doyle leads, Wesley and Lindsey next; Graham and I will take the rear."

"I think I should be in back with Graham. I've more experience fighting, I think," protested Lindsey.

"No. You have to stay close to Wesley. Whatever happens, don't leave his side. Understand?" Oz's eyes were clear and firm, leaving no room for argument.

"Fine. Let's go."

Wesley reached out and took Lindsey's hand in his, leading him down into the dimly lit passage.

"Are you all right?" Lindsey asked.

"Oh, yes, but only in the fate of the world is resting on my shoulders and disaster may occur if I fuck up kind of way." Wesley took a deep breath and exhaled shakily.

Lindsey squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You are not going to fuck this up. Do you know why?"

"Because I'm talented enough to pull this off?"

"No. Because we haven't even had one full, uninterrupted night together. I've waited three years to tell you I love you and I will not lose you now. You do not want to know what I will do to you if you fuck up, so don't. Got it?"

"I'd listen to him if I were you," Doyle's amused voice floated back.

"Thank you, but I think I figured that out for myself." Wesley flashed his lover a lopsided grin, which the lawyer returned.

"We're here."

The two men entered the temple slowly. Wesley could feel the power wrap itself around him, enticing, pulsating, and a bit frightening.

The temple walls were made of a solid black stone, most likely volcanic. The floor was red marble, evidence that some sort of ceremonial circle had been made before was in the centre of the room. There was an alter, also black rock with gold trimming. The room was very impressive, or would have been, except the effect was entirely secondary to the enormous orb that was suspended over the alter.

It floated above it, looking light and fragile. Inside, a storm of light and color fought for dominance. Power crackled over the glossy skin, which pulsed to it's own rhythm. The air around the orb was darker than in the rest of the room.

"Wow. Impressive," remarked Doyle.

A shudder ran through Wesley. Next to him, Lindsey also reacted.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, his voice a shade frightened and awed.

Wesley dropped his hand. "Is that better?"

"Yes. What was that?"

"It was calling to me. It wants... it wants my power."

"Lindsey, stay close to Wesley," Oz reminded the lawyer as Lindsey took an unintentional step away from his lover.

"Sorry."

Wesley kneeled and pulled the flute out of its case. Assembling it quickly, he looked up at Oz. "Draw the circle, saying the words I told you earlier. I want to start."

Oz nodded.

Wesley rose. "Hold onto me, Lin, but don't touch my skin."

Lindsey complied, hooking his finger through Wesley's belt loop.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Wesley began circling the room. One hand trailed along the wall, the other held on tightly to the flute. He felt a force tugging inside him, as if something was attempting to draw part of him out, but he held firm. He concentrated on the feeling of the room, the stone beneath his hand, the every quickening breath of the man behind him, the beat of his own heart. As he began to reach a calm state of being, a centred place, he felt an unfamiliar sensation take hold inside. It was power of his own making, pure and light, but stronger than anything he'd ever felt. For a moment, he felt fear and panic building in the back of his throat; the tug of the orb grew stronger, more enticing. Wesley took a deep breath and forced the panic away, finding the calm again; the tugging left, the power grew.

He completed his circuit of the room. Opening his eyes, he faced Oz. "I am ready." Oz bowed slightly and stepped aside.

Wesley stepped into the circle and knelt on the floor. "Vessel of power, thief of spirit, hear my power, feel my essence, release that which you have taken, which you have stored into the air, into the world, back to where it belongs," he chanted, his voice strong and resonant.

Then he lifted the flute to his lips, took a breath and blew the first sweet, pure note.

"Look out! He's coming!" Cordelia's voice screamed from the passage. Her body suddenly appeared, thrown through the air. She crashed against the far wall, her head banging against it with a sharp crack.

The air darkened once again, noticeably. There was a large flash of light, followed by a loud crash and Xavier appeared from the passage, flying. Lighting bolts crackled at his finger tips, his hair standing on end, and his green eyes murderous.

"Fuck," Lindsey whispered. He glanced at Wesley; the young sorcerer was still playing, his focus inward.

"Hello, Mr. McDonald." Xavier's voice, as ever, was cool and amused, only now, the danger which had always been in the background, pervaded it's tone.

"Get in the circle, Lindsey," Oz ordered, stepping forward, a small sword in his hand.

"But..."

"Get in the circle!"

Xavier caught the Prophet with his eyes. "Don't move."

Lindsey felt frozen to the spot, his gaze firmly in Xavier's.

The warlock floated over Oz, pulling out a broadsword. "You disgust me, Mr. McDonald, you always have. I never understood what Holland saw in you; oh, you're smart enough, but you were born filthy. It clings to your soul, to your aura, darkening everything you touch, have touched, and will touch. I understand that your fondest wish is to be clean and be worthy of that being," he pointed at Wesley, still playing, with the sword. "You never will." Xavier was hovering just over Lindsey now who was still frozen. "You die here and your soul will be trapped. Yours will fit in quite well with those who have died here before you. Good-bye."

"No!" Cordelia, bleeding from her forehead, swaying dizzily, launched herself to her feet. She managed to stumble across the room to Lindsey, throwing her entire weight against him.

Lindsey lost his balance and fell over into the circle. Without breaking his concentration or the rhythm of the song, Wesley gestured in a circle with the flute. A protective bubble surrounded them, keeping them safe within the circle.

Xavier roared in frustration and brought the hilt of the sword down on Cordelia. She ducked, but he caught her on the back of the skull. She fell to the ground, unconscious.

Graham charged, leaping into the air. He crashed into Xavier and pulled the warlock to the ground.

"Doyle, find Angel and Gunn. Now!" Oz ordered, rushing Graham and Xavier.

Lindsey rose, shaking off the spell Xavier had woven with his words and eyes. With shaky hands, he pulled a paper out of his pocket. On it were the Sumerian words he was supposed to say. He glanced down at Wesley.

His lover had opened his eyes, looking at Lindsey. The eyes smiled, glowing silver with power and confidence. Lindsey noticed that Wesley skin shone as well, power radiating from his every pore.

Lindsey grinned back, then looked at the paper, softly beginning the chant.

*****
Part 9:

Doyle fled up the passage and came into the lower levels of the office building. He could hear alarms sounding as he entered the front lobby. People were leaving with their arms full of papers and files.

Angel and Gunn were running across to him.

"Angel!" Doyle called. He noticed both men were covered in blue ooze. "More demons?"

"God damn warlock was expecting us. I was lucky Gunn ran in to warn me he'd lost contact with your group." Angel wiped a glop of blue goo from his ear. "Do you know where Xavier is?"

"In the temple, come on. He almost killed Lindsey, and Princess has been hurt. Hurry."

Angel and Gunn ran ahead, Doyle left behind. He could feel himself beginning to lose form, very slowly, but noticeable to him. "Please, at least let me say good-bye, please," the ghost prayed, running after his lover.

Angel skidded to a halt just inside the temple, glancing around at the situation. Wesley and Lindsey were safe in their protective bubble, working on the spell. Cordelia had just regained consciousness and was looking around, confused. Graham and Oz were both bloody, trying to fend off attacks from Xavier's sword.

Gunn snuck behind Xavier with his battle-axe. With a cry, he swung. Xavier spun and blocked the blow, then slashed the sword at Gunn's stomach. The young street fighter leapt nimbly back, swung again and managed to knock the warlock against the wall.

The vampire leapt on him, vamped out, fangs bared. Xavier pulled a cross out from his cloak and shoved it in Angel's face.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" Angel growled, unable to keep from flinching.

"Actually, it's supposed to hurt you."

Angel grabbed the man's wrist and squeezed. He managed to force Xavier to drop the cross. The warlock drew his legs up, pressed them against the Warrior's stomach, and shoved, shouting a word Angel didn't understand.

Angel flew across the room, feeling as if an elephant had kicked him. He bounced into Wesley's protective bubble, then hit the floor.

Graham attacked next, pulling some impressive judo moves. He managed to disarm the warlock before Xavier performed yet another spell. Graham fell to the floor, his legs locked together. He turned to Gunn next.

"Gunn!" Oz called.

Gunn looked. The Oracle tossed his sword to Gunn, who caught it and thrust quickly. His blow hit home and the sword was buried to the hilt in Xavier's stomach.

Blood seeped around the wound and, when Xavier coughed, a drop of blood appeared on his lips. But it was the wrong color; instead of being red, the blood was deep purple.

"But you're human," Angel protested.

"Not quite, not anymore," corrected Xavier. He pulled the sword out and shoved it into Gunn's leg. Then he turned.

The room fell silent as Lindsey stopped talking. One note hung in the air, sweet and high. It echoed off the wall, resonating within everyone hearts and minds.

The sorcerer put the flute down. His cool blue eyes, which were glowing an otherworldy silver, met Xavier's.

"Let the vessel be broken," Wesley said into the stillness.

Xavier's eyes widened as Wesley convulsed suddenly, his head and arms thrown back, chest thrust out. Light poured out of him, making him glow. The bright light flowed over everyone, wrapping itself around the orb. For a moment, the two powers competed with each other, but the light engulfed the orb completely. There was a powerful explosion, completely silent, but strong. Everyone in the room flinched as the light first fell into itself, then exploded outwards, power washing over all the occupants before escaping the room.

When it was gone, everyone, even Angel, gasped as the oppressive force left.

"No, dammit, no!" Xavier screamed. His form blinked once. "You aren't rid of me this easily. My master and I will return and-" He disappeared completely.

For a long time everyone was silent, staring at the place the warlock had been.

"What happened?" Doyle asked.

"His presence was tied to the power of the orb. Once it was gone, there was nothing tying him to this dimension."

"But he was human," Angel protested again, facing Oz.

Oz nodded. "Once upon a time, he was. But he fed the demon and the orb so much power - so much of himself - that he became something else, something not able to survive without either his master's presence or the orb. He may be back, but not for awhile."

Angel nodded and turned. He froze.

Wesley was unconscious. His heart beat faintly, blood collecting at his mouth, nose, and around his eyes. His breathing was shallow and too fast. Lindsey had him cradled in his arms, his face buried in Wesley's neck, rocking.

"Lindsey?" Angel knelt next to the lawyer.

Lindsey raised his head, tears streaming down his face. "I don't want to lose him, Angel."

Angel gathered Wesley in his arms and rose. "Let's go. Now."

Doyle shook his head, listening intently to something. "Wait a moment." He darted up the passage, then back down. "The building's collapsed on us. We got to go the other way."

"Can we get out there?" Graham asked, holding Oz next to him.

Doyle nodded. "Follow me."

The ghost led the procession, with Angel carrying Wesley coming next, Lindsey with a half conscious Cordelia in his arms, Gunn limping behind, then Graham and Oz bringing up the rear, both bleeding and cut. They left the temple for the car, driving to the hospital to tend to their wounded.

Angel pulled the car outside of the hospital. He leaned over to grab Wesley, when Graham reached out and stopped him, eyes locked on Doyle.

Angel turned. Doyle's form, the last day so reassuringly solid, had faded noticeably.

The ghost gave him a tremulous smile. "This is where I get off," he said, voice full of tears.

"What?"

Graham got out of the car, lifting Wesley. Lindsey followed with Cordelia, Gunn and Oz trailing behind. The group disappeared into the hospital, giving Doyle and Angel their privacy.

Doyle watched them go. "Take care of the Princess, okay? Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't wait until she woke, but The Powers That Be are an insistent bunch."

Angel shook his head and grabbed Doyle. The ghost was losing his solidness more quickly than the Warrior would have liked. "No. It's too soon. I want... I want you to stay."

"I know, but I can't. Keeping me around... It'd just be wrong. Somewhere in the world is the one you're supposed to be with; it's not me, no matter how much I may have wanted it. We had our day."

"Fuck that. What is it with this one day crap? One day with Buffy, one day with you. It's never enough."

Doyle shook his head and stood on his toes. "No, man, you're right. It isn't enough, but it's what we get." He pressed his lips against Angel's. "Good-bye and I love you."

Angel wrapped his arms around Doyle, kissing him fiercely, trying to devour him with his lips, with his touch. He could feel Doyle leaving, his form getting more and more insubstantial as he turned back into a ghost. Tears poured down his face as he poured his feelings into his kiss until, finally, he was holding nothing and kissing air.

Angel pulled back. Doyle, white and ghostly looking, transparent but always with luminescent eyes, smiled, his seductive and mischievous smile tinged with sadness, then disappeared from Angel's arms forever.

*****
Part 10:

"'After the multi-million dollar firm's building was destroyed, it was discovered that not only did they not have enough money to replace their building, but their insurance had expired. The company is now facing bankruptcy and is under investigation for fraud.' Wow, that power thing must have been pretty powerful to cover up all that," Cordelia remarked. She continued reading. "Several of the top placed people in the firm are either missing or dead, and others are in jail for reasons including blah, blah, blah, whatever." She put the paper down and looked at Lindsey. "Aren't you glad you're out of that mess?"

"Yes, I guess." He was seated on the couch, next to a pale Wesley. Lindsey reached out and touched his lover's hair gently.

"You guess?" the seer replied incredulously.

"I had almost three million dollars, did you know that? Now half of that has disappeared and half of that half is tied up in investments. I'm poor and jobless now."

Cordelia snorted. "I wish I had your problems."

Wesley leaned against Lindsey. "You are hardly poor. If you were, I would have to leave you and I haven't yet, have I?"

"I forgot you only loved me for my money." Lindsey let out a sigh of mock relief. "Thank God I still have enough to keep you." He laid his head on top of Wesley's. "There's still the problem of no job. I need a job or I might go crazy."

Wesley and Cordelia looked at each other before Wesley said, "You could start your own firm."

"Oh?" Lindsey caught the look between them. "What have you two come up with?"

"A small, perhaps not-for-profit thing specializing in children, abused women, and the occasional demon. There's a shelter near-by that would love a generous person to volunteer their services occasionally." Cordelia smiled sweetly.

"Not for profit?" the lawyer repeated faintly.

"David Nabbit has agreed to help, if you decided to do this. You wouldn't have to fund it all on your own." Her eyes were large and pleading, standing out against the whiteness of the bandage on her face. "Please? Just talk to him?"

"I don't know. Maybe," he mused.

Cordelia grinned. "Great! And Graham can be your legal secretary or paralegal or whatever. He needs a better job that what he's doing now. And when I graduate, we can be some sort of social worker, lawyer team or something."

"You've got this all planned out already, haven't you?"

"She's got notes and everything. Even knows of an available office space," Wesley told him, amusement evident in his voice.

Lindsey sighed in defeat. "I suppose I need to face the inevitable: I'm a full fledged, out in the open white hat, subject to the whims of the team."

Wesley kissed him. "That's right. Welcome to the life."

Oz stepped into Angel's office. "Angel?

The vampire looked up from his book. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry about Doyle."

"It wasn't your fault."

"No, but I should have known. Maybe if I'd been listening more closely, I'd have heard it coming."

"I'll live."

"Yeah. You always do."

Angel gazed thoughtfully at Oz for a moment, before rising and walking to the door. Leaning against the frame, he gazed out at Wesley, Lindsey, and Cordelia. Graham and Gunn had joined their group, still looking battered from the battle.

"What's going to happen now?" he asked.

Oz took a position beside Angel. "Wesley used up a lot of the power he's been storing. I doubt he's going to be using much magic at all for a year or two. Still, he's got the potential to be the most powerful sorcerer I've ever seen." Oz shook his head. "The Powers have seen, not me. Sorry."

"Minor slip."

"Anyway, being untrained in how to harness his powers, he wasn't able to hold anything back, and whatever his source is will be too exhausted to start learning how to harness energy from the earth and Powers that Be for awhile."

"When will he be ready? When will we know?"

Oz shrugged. "We'll have a sign, some sort of indication. Until then, I don't know."

"Xavier?"

"The Powers lost him. He's either with his master or in another dimension."

"Still no clue as to who the master is?" Angel asked, looking down at Oz.

"They've narrowed it down, but haven't told me who. We're just going to have to wait."

"Wait for what?"

Oz's eyes glowed slightly and his voice took on the resonate quality it did when the Powers that Be spoke through him. "Wait for the war."

Angel nodded and looked back out at his family. "We'll be ready."

~fin~