Hello readers! This story can sorta segue with my other story "Mother's Heart", although they are not the same story. This is written as a stand alone but also, hopefully to be part of a larger story arc later on. I was dissatisfied with how little the "other side" is portrayed in the Buffyverse, or given kindof a bad rap. For every yin, there is yang and there was little to no yang in the original Buffyverse. So I'm creating my own.

I don't own'em, I just play with'em. And review if you think I should play some more or leave'em the *# alone.

London 1880

Tess stood in the outer edge of the crowd, unseen and unheard, but watching. She cast her eyes to and fro searching until she found. Ahhh…

"There he is."

"Which one," the tall warrior at her side asked.

"The one sitting in the corner, writing." She pointed to where a somewhat unassuming man sat in the corner of the salon, ignoring the party going on around him as he wrote feverishly upon the paper in his hand.

"That is your assignment," Tess began to move through the crowd as the man followed behind her.

They stopped when they came to his side and stood observing him again. He chewed on the end of a fountain pen, locks of sandy brown hair continually falling into his face, which he would absently push back.

Tess sighed and looked at the figure beside her. He looked like what he was, a warrior, one who fought constantly against the encroaching evils of Hell and its minions, both in this dimension and others. She did not know why he had been chosen for such a task, but it was not her job to question the will of the Almighty. She hoped he would be equal to the task.

"Azarael," she said, turning to him, "this mission will be unlike any you have ever undertaken before. I don't know why this task has been assigned to you, but I fear it will test you in ways you have yet to know."

He frowned and turned his gaze from the young man to the angel beside him. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know everything, but I do know your task is to watch. I also know that the trials that are to come for this one are necessary. You are to be with him, walk with him, wherever he goes, even through the valley of the shadow of death. But you are not to interfere."

Tess looked at the young man and then back to him sadly, "You are going to be tried, Azarael. You will be forced to see things that will be abhorrent to you, but you cannot intervene. You will want to fight, but you cannot. Your task is to remain unseen and unheard, to him and to everything around him, even the dark ones, should they come. Comfort and succor him as you may, remind him of that which is good when, and if, you can. You are his Watcher. There will come a time when all you have experienced by his side will aide you to battle for him. He has a special destiny."

"You are to be his remembrance, when darkness comes. So that he can hold onto the light. You will be the keeper of his soul."

"Keeper of his soul? How am I to do this? I do not understand"

"When the darkness touches him, covers him over until he's lost in the night, you must help him hold onto that which makes him what he is. I wish I could tell you more than that, but that is all I know," Tess sighed again unhappily and turned to watch with Azarael as the young man moved through the crowd.

Azarael frowned, "What is it that is to become of him? Can u tell me what is going to happen to him?"

"I do not know the extent of his story, only the Author does. All I can tell you is that he will need you." Tess replied firmly.

"Then I accept. I am the servant of the Most High, His will is my command." He let his eyes follow the human as he moved and, as he spoke his agreement, felt the binding take hold of him.

"You are now his Guardian, Azarael. You will feel what he feels, and May the Grace of God be with you." Tess smiled at the angel beside her.

And so they watched as he was humiliated by guests, and spurned by the woman he loved. This was difficult for him, as Tess had known it would be, as he had never, in his aeons of existence, served as a Guardian in this capacity. She watched him anxiously to see if he would be able to bear up under the burden.

"You may cease to worry about me, you know. I will bear this burden," Azarael said with a wry smile to the concerned looking angel at his side.

Tess grinned back. "I know you will. It was why you were chosen," she began to walk away, "Be well, Azarael. You and your human will be in my prayers."

He watched her disappear and turned back to see his soul stricken charge hurry out into the night. He thought himself to his side and moved with him, weeping in companion with him at the pain that was now in both their hearts.

Azarael had much experience in dealing with humans, but not in feeling their emotions. The sensations of hurt and worthlessness that assailed him now were somewhat disconcerting. He sat down beside his charge as he collapsed in an alleyway, sobbing out his pain. He reached out, placing his hand upon the shoulder of his charge as the young man ripped up the papers he had been labouring over so studiously only a short time ago.

It was then that he sensed it.

He turned and noticed the dark shadow that moved steadily closer. A Lost One.

He moved closer to his charge and concentrated on remaining undetected. He knew, if he so wished, they would not be able to sense his presence, although he was always aware of theirs'. It was then he noticed that it was one of the ones they had encountered earlier in the street.

He prayed for his charge to move, to get away from the unclean thing but he did not. It was a strain beyond anything he had ever known not to try and intervene. To simply watch as it worked its wiles up the vulnerable soul he was linked to. To feel the hurt and desperate desire to be wanted and needed that lured him into the foul one's net as surely as the creature's smile.

To watch, in impotent horror, as he gave in to the creature's deadly embrace.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out a hand and touched his soul, attempting to save some part of him from being sucked away by the creature. He saw the lifeforce fading away, like a sunset sliding below the horizon and hung his head in sorrow at his failure, both to save his charge and at being unable to follow his mandate and not interfere. However, as the foul one moved off and away and he looked upon the face of his charge, he noticed something, a faint glow. Too faint to be seen by any but angelic eyes but there nonetheless. Like the pale shadow of the brightness of the soul that had been previously there.

How can this be? Never had he encountered a Lost One with such a thing. Their souls flew fast away, leaving their shell inhabitable for the demon that overtook them. Memories, minds, emotions, the demon absorbed them all, becoming a caricature of the person that once was.

But here…

Azarael was filled with horror. What had he done? Had the strength of his touch somehow fractured the soul before it could leave?

He fell to his knees, crying out in agony at the thought of what he had done.

And then he felt it, like a balm poured over his own spirit.

And out of the darkness, a still, small voice spoke to him, "Be at peace, Azarael. You have not failed Me, nor the one to whom you are bound. You have done exactly what was needed. Now your task begins in earnest. Do not fear, I will always be with you."

Azarael calmed and, as he looked at the form of his charge sprawled upon the ground, he knew that he would need to remember this moment for a long time to come.