Lindsay stood on the upper deck of the cargo ship and turned a slow circle, scrutinizing every inch of the harbor through night vision binoculars.  Payton sat beside him in a deck chair, upending a cold bottle of beer.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're paranoid," he said to Lindsay between swigs.

"Just a healthy sense of caution," Lindsay replied.  "Something you'd better develop in a hurry if you expect to survive in this business."

"But there's no sign of him, right?  And there won't be.  It's a beautiful night.  Why don't you pull up a chair, grab a beer, and enjoy it?"

"Because I know better than to quit before the job's done."  Finishing a full sweep, Lindsay put down the binoculars to rest his eyes for a minute.  It was only an hour past sunset, the world lit by the deceptive light of dusk before true darkness fell.  If Payton wasn't taking the job seriously, did he dare trust him to a watch?  If not, it was going to be a long night.

He stared out reflectively at the unimaginably vast ocean, imagining the unearthly sea dragon he had glimpsed briefly when this job began, winding its way through the dark water.  The earth was full of amazing things, all the more amazing because someone who knew how to play the game could control them, harness that vast power, add it to his own.

His eye was caught by a tiny speck moving slowly across the water.  What would a small boat be doing out past the breakwater at this time of night?  He searched through the binoculars, curious.  Finally he found it, bobbing gently among the waves.

"Oh, shit," he said softly.

"What is it?"

He didn't answer, and finally Payton got out of his chair and joined him at the railing.  "What are they doing?" Lindsay wondered aloud.

"What are you talking about?" Payton asked.  He sounded gratifyingly worried.

"So much for your sure-fire magic amulet.  He's out there with the other two in a boat.  It looks like they're performing some kind of spell."  He put down the binoculars and strode to the ladder.  "Whatever it is, we've got to put a stop to it right now."

Angel sprinkled the last of the powdered fish eyes into the water as Wesley finished the Latin incantation.  His accent seemed to be improving over the last time Cordelia had heard it.  They drifted in silence.

"What happens now?" she whispered.

"Now we find out if the spell is going to work," Wesley said.

They waited.  The sea was calm, the gray darkness of the sky unrevealing.  The only sound was the sloshing of the waves and the hum of a motorboat in the distance.

Then suddenly all around them the sea began to boil.  Huge bubbles came belching from the water, rocking the boat and making the air stink of rotten eggs and dead seaweed, which was even more unpleasant than the powdered fish eyes.

"Is this supposed to be happening?" Angel asked Wesley.

"I don't think so . . ." Wesley trailed off.  He was staring out at the water.  The sound of the motor boat grew loud enough to be heard over the bubbling of the sea.  Cordelia looked up and realized it was headed in their direction.  "Great," she muttered.  "This is going to be a little tough to explain to the harbor patrol."

Suddenly she jumped as a deep, unfamiliar voice arose right beside her.  "My gold . . . all my beautiful gold . . . they're taking away my lovely gold . . ."  She stared at Wesley, from whose mouth the sounds were coming, but it certainly wasn't him speaking.  She shifted instinctively away from him as shivers ran up and down her back.

"Wesley!" Angel said sharply, shaking him.  "Snap out of it!"  Wesley didn't respond, but slowly the sea stopped boiling.  The slight breeze began to take the edge off of the sulfurous odor.  Without warning Wesley slumped forward – Angel caught him before he fell into the water.

The motor boat was nearly on top of them.  It didn't seem to be slowing down and for a moment Cordelia was afraid it was going to smash right into them.  Then it veered around them and shots rang out as it passed by.  She dove for the scant safety of the bottom of the boat.  Angel joined her, pulling Wesley down beside him.

"Just a guess but I don't think that was the harbor patrol," she said tightly.

"It's got to be Wolfram and Hart," Angel replied.  "They must have noticed that we're trying to uncage their pet sea monster."  He peeked briefly over the gunwale.  "They're coming back.  Stay here and keep an eye on Wesley.  I'll deal with them."

At any other time Cordelia would have accepted this without question, but all at once she found herself horribly uncertain whether Angel was up to it.  But there was no time to argue.  As the other boat stopped along side them, Angel leaped up and jumped across the gap.

Cordelia kept her eyes glued to the other boat but it was hard to see what was happening, even silhouetted against the city lights.  She heard the sounds of flesh hitting flesh interspersed with grunts of pain and hoped not too many of them were coming from Angel.  As long as the sounds of conflict continued, she supposed he must still be all right.  She shook Wesley's shoulder, but he didn't respond.  She started to reach for the crossbow he had brought, but realized that she didn't dare use it for fear of hitting Angel.

The two boats were beginning to drift apart.  She grabbed an oar and tried to narrow the gap, but the boat kept going sideways.  She redoubled her effort when she saw two men pin Angel against the side of the boat.  Did they mean to stake him?

She nearly dropped the oar when suddenly an enormous shape pushed its way out of the water only a few yards away.  It took her a moment to recognize it as a huge coil of sea dragon, just like the picture in Angel's book.  She stared as it moved diagonally through the water like an undulating snake until the loop curled around the front end of the motorboat.

The sea dragon's sudden appearance gave Angel the distraction he needed to break free.  Shots rang out as the occupants of the boat tried to ward off the monster, but they didn't seem to have much effect.  The coil tightened and began to flip the boat sideways.  Angel stumbled toward the back of the boat and started to heave himself overboard.  Just as it was about to overturn, Cordelia heard a final shot followed by a sharp cry of pain and saw Angel fall backwards into the water.  Then the boat flipped, dumping the remaining occupants into the sea.  The sea dragon uncoiled itself and disappeared.

"Angel!" Cordelia cried out as loudly as she dared.  There was no answer.  The sea was dark and terrifyingly deep and wide.  A bullet wouldn't kill him and Angel couldn't drown, but if he were too weak to swim, how would they ever find him?

Wesley stirred, finally coming to his senses.  It was about time.  Cordelia shoved an oar into his hands and started rowing in the direction of the capsized boat.  "Come on," she said.  "Angel's out there and we have to find him."

With both of them rowing, at least the boat went straight.  It was really too dark to see, and she couldn't hear anything over the muted sound of the waves.  Then a few yards from the overturned boat her oar hit something solid underwater.  Then something nearly yanked it out of her hand.  Praying that it was Angel, she tightened her grip and pulled.  Finally she saw a white hand reaching out of the deep, clamped to the end of the oar.

Wesley reached out and grabbed Angel's wrist and dragged him over the gunwale.  He lay sprawled across the bottom of the boat, coughing up seawater.

"I'm OK," he gasped.  He pulled himself up onto one of the slats, then suddenly doubled over in pain and nearly fell overboard again.  They both grabbed him.  "Well, sort of OK," he amended.  They didn't let go, even when he tried to sit up.

Cordelia eyed the hand he held pressed against his side.  Blood was leaking through his fingers.  "You're shot," she said.

"Yeah.  Parting gift."  He looked up Wesley.  "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I believe so," Wesley answered.  "Though it was a unique experience to catch a glimpse into the heart of a sea dragon."  He glanced over at the two lawyers clinging to the side of their boat.  "But I think we'd better go now, before the port authorities really do show up."

"No argument here," Cordelia said.  She and Wesley propped Angel against the side of the boat and took up the oars.

"Just remind me again why spells have to be done out of row boats."

Angel gritted his teeth and tried not to scream as Wesley probed with a pair of tweezers for the bullet lodged in his side.  No doubt Wes was trying to be as gentle as possible, but it felt like being stabbed with hot pincers.  He flinched at a particularly sharp spasm of pain.

"I think I've found it," Wesley said finally.  "It's buried pretty deep – are you quite certain  you want me to try to remove it?"

Angel nodded tightly.  "I've tried the alternative.  It'd work itself out in a week or so, but that's a long time to wait."

He heard Wesley take a deep breath.  "All right then.  Brace yourself – and try not to move."

Angel gripped the table more tightly and tucked his head against his arm. "OK."

Pain shot through him like a red hot needle.  The edge of the table broke off in his hand, but he managed to hold himself still until he heard Wesley exclaim, "Got it!"  Shortly thereafter he felt gauze taped over the wound.  Cordelia set down the flashlight and draped a dry towel around his shoulders.

He straightened carefully and looked at Wesley.  "What happened out there?"

"I'm not quite sure," he responded slowly.  "I think we performed the spell correctly.  But it certainly didn't work the way I expected.  Perhaps I was mistaken about how Wolfram and Hart brought the sea dragon here."

"Well, what was all that putrid bubbling, then?" Cordelia asked.

"That's what happens when a sea dragon breathes fire underwater," Wesley replied.

"Well, the spell certainly did something," Angel observed.  "The sea dragon made some kind of connection with you."

"Yes."  Wesley nodded thoughtfully.  "For a moment it seemed as if I were in its mind.  The deep, dark ocean felt like home.  And I felt even older than you are."

"Could you tell what it was thinking?" Cordelia asked.

"Not exactly," Wesley replied.  "But I could definitely sense some strong emotions.  It's confused and hungry and very angry.  I wouldn't want to be around when it finally gives vent to those feelings."

"But it knew which boat to overturn," Angel said.  "We've attacked it twice, but it sided with us again Wolfram and Hart."

"We were trying to free it.  Perhaps it understood that we were trying to help," Wesley suggested.

"Well, I could go a long time without hearing you talk like that again," Cordelia commented.  "What did you say, exactly?"

"Something about gold, I think."  Wesley smacked himself on the forehead.  "Of course!  We've been thinking too much about it just being a sea monster.  What do dragons always hoard?"

"Treasure?" Cordelia suggested eagerly.

"Gold in particular.  They're taking away my lovely gold, it said.  Think of all the ships that have gone down at sea carrying gold.  Pirate ships, Spanish galleons, all that those golden artifacts that were stolen from the Aztecs and the Incas!  A sea dragon could amass quite a collection."

"And now Wolfram and Hart is trying to steal it back," Angel finished.

"That sounds like them," Cordelia noted.  "So why is it just hanging out in the harbor, eating passersby?  Why isn't it attacking the evil lawyers?"

"That's the spell!" Wesley cried in triumph.  "They haven't conjured it from the deep.  They've located its gold, and they are using some spell to keep it at bay so they can snatch its treasure like eggs from a hen."

"How do we stop them?" Angel asked.

"With any luck we can locate an appropriate counterspell.  Once we set it free, no doubt it can take care of Wolfram and Hart without our help."

Angel nodded.  "OK.  Get to work on it."

Cordelia turned to him.  "Wait a minute.  I don't care how much gold they're snatching – you are not going back out there.  We almost lost you.  Again."

Angel opened his mouth to protest, then closed it.  Maybe Cordelia was right.  He had taken quite a beating before the sea dragon had intervened, and it was sheer luck that Cordelia had hit him with her oar as he drifted nearly unconscious beneath the surface of the water.

He stared hard at the amulet, sitting on the table in front of him.  He couldn't just leave Wolfram and Hart and their sea dragon to their own devices.  But neither could he turn his back on the path the Powers That Be had set in front of him.  If only he could be certain that this was their doing . . .

He nodded decisively and looked up at them.  "I have to know.  I'm going to go talk to the Oracles."

Gateway for Lost Souls.

Angel stared at the words inscribed across the top of the smooth white marble archway and sighed.  They seemed singularly appropriate.

He sprinkled herbs into the ash-filled urn just as Doyle had done days before his death, all the while mumbling warnings about how finicky and unpredictable the Oracles were.  Angel wished Doyle were here now.

"I beseech access to the knowing ones."  He tossed in a match and flames roared up.  Solid light shone through the marble archway.  Angel shielded his eyes, gathered up his resolve, and stepped through.

The Oracles stood idly together like a pair of Greek statues, eternally poised and knowing in their ethereal white temple.  They stepped toward him, changing from one pose to another.  "Come before us."

He stepped closer and held out a delicately sculpted unicorn.  "I bring a gift."

The man raised his hand and the sculpture flew to him as if called.  "It is acceptable," he said.  "Why have you called us forth?"

Angel pulled the amulet from his pocket, but before he could speak the woman took a step closer.  "Have you brought us another gift?  Such a lovely thing, and old, if age gives value.  You are becoming wise."

Angel went cold.  How could they not know?  He gripped the amulet tightly, lest it fly from his hand.  "No."  Afraid to offend them, he hastened to add, "Forgive me.  But this is the reason I've come to ask for your help."

The woman cocked her head impatiently.  "We do not exist to fight your battles for you."

"Do not trouble us with every trifle that disturbs your existence," the man added.

This was not going well.  Why couldn't Doyle have shown him some less exasperating channel to the Powers?  "Look, I need to know . . ."

They waited expectantly.  He struggled to devise a question which would give him an unambiguous answer.  "Did the Powers That Be send this?  Was I meant to suffer these nightmares?"

"If it has come to you, you are meant to have it," the man said.

Well, that jibed with was Doyle had said, as far as it went.  "What about the sea dragon?"

"It must be released.  The evil forces that have brought it here must be stopped before they can achieve their plans."

"But how can I do both?  Right now I'm no match for this thing, or even the humans that brought it here."

"You must choose your battles wisely."

He nodded wearily.  No doubt that was the best answer he was going to get.  The bright light was making his head pound, which was making it even more difficult to think.  Any minute now he was going to start falling asleep on his feet.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back outside the darkened portal.

"Well?" Cordelia asked as he climbed stiffly out of the sewer tunnel.

"I'm meant to have it," he said, clutching the amulet.  "But we've also got to stop Wolfram and Hart."  He pulled out a chair from the table and sank into it, feeling weariness settle deep in his bones.  He looked tiredly up at Wesley.  "See if you can find a counterspell.  Then we'll figure out what to do with it."

Wesley nodded.  Angel laid the amulet on the table rested his face in his hands.

When he looked up again Wesley and Cordelia were gone, but someone else was standing over him.  It was a vampire, dressed all in black, with the amulet hanging across his chest.  The eyes smoldered with thinly veiled hatred.  Angel pushed himself slowly to his feet.

"Angel."  The vampire's smile was terribly condescending.  He picked up a small table by the wall and smashed it across the pillar.  Casually he scattered the pieces with his foot, then stooped and picked up a broken piece of a leg and hefted it experimentally.  Angel backed away.

"Everyone else has had their fun.  Now it's my turn."

He knew that voice.  He didn't know the face, but he knew that voice.  It was his own.  Angel slid slowly backwards along the wall, away from the apparition.  "Angelus."

"It's about time we met, don't you think?"  The mocking, confident voice echoed out of memory.

Angel swallowed the dryness in his throat.  "You're not real."

"Not real?"  Angelus laughed.  "Of course I'm real.  I'm inside you every day.  At any moment you might lose control, experience a split second of perfect happiness.  And then I'm free."

Angel ran out of wall.  Angelus tossed the stake into the air and caught it.  "We're not really as different as you'd like to think.  Except that now I get to kill you."

Angel saw the blow coming and didn't move to block it.  The table leg pierced his heart.  As he dissolved into dust, he saw Angelus smile.