A/N: Insert the standard "I don't claim the rights to these characters" spiel here. Beware, this story contains adult themes (i.e., big chunks o' lemon) and gets VERY explicit at times. Read at your own risk. Also, this story only covers the exploits of Lina and Xellos. Gourry, Amelia, and Zelgadis' adventures during the time frame that "Penance" takes place are detailed in a fic called "Pursuit of Merit", which is about halfway written but probably won't be done until '05. "Penance" is followed up by "Reckoning" and then "Absolution" series, all of which are available here on fanfiction.net.

You can view this story in its un-chaptered form at my website, also. I went back and broke it up into chapters because I was getting complaints that it was too long. Sorry if the chapter divisions seem awkward in places, or if some chapters seem too short or too long. That's what happens when you write a story without chapter divisions, and then later chop it up.

Reviews are welcome!!

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Xellos opened his eyes, his pupils adjusting to the light in the room. He was lying on his side, looking across the other bed at where Lina slept. How could she do it? How could she tolerate knowing that she was wasting away with every second?

He could recall his fascination with her when he was still immortal. She was so full of fire, and he was drawn to it as a moth to a flame. Which, of course, had been his undoing. How ironic that he would find himself on an equal level with the person who had caused his fall. How awful that he was now condemned to the same fate as she. Even as he lay still he could feel the decay creeping through his body, growing with every moment that passed. Someday, years and years into the future, the decay would encompass all of him and he would die. He would not die with glory, as a Monster of his status should have, but as an old human man. If he even made it that far. He was newly susceptible to diseases and physical ailments. Swords could kill him, or even a well-thrown rock. It was absurd that the general-priest of Xellas Metallium should be condemned to such a fate.

He tried for the millionth time to gather his energy and fade onto the astral plane, and was disappointed once again. A silent sob wracked his body and he ground his teeth together, desperately trying again. Why, why did it have to be this way? Where was the comfort of the astral void he had always known? He imagined he could feel the part of him that had been cut away just beyond his reach, hovering at the fringes of the astral plane, but he could not draw upon it. In fact, he barely had an astral body at all. It was only the size of Lina's. Well, perhaps a littler larger than hers, but not much. All that untapped power, just out of his reach. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pull back into himself, but he could not. The pain of his wounds kept him awake, and nothing he had ever experienced before was comparable to the agony he was in at present. Even having half of his body sliced away by Gaav hadn't hurt so badly. That was one difference he had noticed immediately upon waking by the side of the road near the ocean, across the water from Wolfpack Island. Physical sensation was multiplied a thousandfold. His mortal senses were far more dull, but the feeling of the air on his newly-mortal skin had nearly sent him into a screaming fit. It was if his nerve endings were on fire, although he was slowly becoming used to the heightened state of physical feeling. If he hadn't felt death slowly crawling through his mortal body it might have been actually pleasant to be so aware of his flesh, but as things stood it was agony. His wounds throbbed and burned in some parts, or ached and were icy in others. He could hardly move, so stiff were his muscles, and he was certain several of his ribs were broken. He, Xellos, had been broken. He took a deep breath for a sob, which threw him into a fit of spasms. The pain made him cry out softly and he was dimly aware of Lina stirring in her sleep. He contorted in anguish, unable to make a sound because of the convulsing of his ribcage, and desperately gasped for air.

He shouldn't have been in this state. No mortal should have been able to wound him. Actually, he thought he had taken the change quite well at first. After waking up on the road and realizing what had been done to him, he had resolutely ignored it in a state of shock. So he was newly mortal, so what? He would return to normal again someday, he just had to. There was no way his mistress would just leave him like this, was there? He had brushed the dust off of his clothing and immediately set out, managing to convince himself that the punishment was only temporary. His body adopted a traveling stride and he made good time across the countryside, steadfastly refusing to truly examine his situation. He would simply move forward and everything would be all right.

He had managed several days of that denial, making his way slowly inland. The knowledge that no one would help him crept into his brain, and it became harder and harder to deny his new reality. Sure, he could feel his body dying day by day, but it was only for a while, of that he was certain. He could bear it because he knew that it would someday be reversed. It was with difficulty that he kept from testing the limits of his power to see what had been taken from him. After all, how would he know that he was actually mortal? He knew that spells had been cast on Monsters before to trap them in their physical bodies. Look at Gaav, for example. He still had all his Monsterly powers even while trapped in a physical body. Most likely his mistress had done something similar to him. After all, there was no way that he, of all people, could be an actual, bona fide mortal. It was simply impossible.

Then the bandits had attacked him. He had immediately pushed away the panic that had been rising within him over the past week and had found it within him to be amused. Imagine, a pack of humans attacking someone as powerful as he was! He actually smiled, he could remember feeling the smirk cross his face, and raised his staff. The men rushed towards him, eyes full of greed and blades drawn, and he had called the spell. Nothing happened. He was shocked to the very core of his being. Where power should have flowed into him freely there was only emptiness. He could no longer tap into the power of the astral void. Raw astonishment broke over him as he stared at the men coming at him, dropping to his knees before they even reached him. It didn't matter to him as they cut him and battered his body, kicking him long after he had been knocked down. They took his money, rolled him into a ditch to die, ran off, and he didn't care. All his power, all his amazing might, was gone, like a candle flame extinguished. He couldn't even bring himself to cast a human spell, so acute was the loss of his demonic energy. It was then that he realized that he truly was a mortal, that he would live and die on the crust of the lowly mortal planet, forever separated from his power and his people. He did not want to live, and mercifully slipped into the unconsciousness brought on by unbearable pain.

The next thing he knew Lina had found him. He didn't know what to think. Of all the people wandering the earth, she discovered him. Now, because of her, he would most likely live. His native curiosity warred with his intense desire to leave the disgusting, painful mortal plane behind. He could do that, now that he was human. He was capable of just up and dying, an option he had never really had before. Oh, how satisfying it would be to just slip away. He wagered that it wasn't hot in death; he had visited Hellmaster's realm enough to know exactly what awaited the dead. Yes, eternal oblivion for his awareness sounded perfectly suited to his needs. He wanted to leave his weak, dying body behind and have his essence free to roam whatever plane it would, just as it did when he was a Monster. Then his skin wouldn't burn so, his head wouldn't spin, and he could finally rest. . .

a voice said, calling him back from whatever edge he had been skirting. He blinked, the light in the room drilling into his brain as the attempted to focus his eyes.

he moaned weakly, in too much pain to even move. It felt as if his limbs were on fire, as if his skin was actually being seared away by flames. Let me go.

Oh god, you're burning up! the voice said, and he shut his eyes. It was no good. He couldn't focus on anything, it hurt too badly. He felt something inside of him slip, and fear gripped his heart. This was it, he was really dying. The decay of his body suddenly began to increase, making him feel as if he was riding in a runaway cart. The pain intensified bit by bit, and he realized that soon it would all be over. Why, even as he heard the thud of footfalls across the wooden floor he could sense the void stretching before him. He was going to die, he was so close. It was just death, however, not the total obliteration of life and spirit that the Monster race desired. Death, he was finding, was not synonymous with destruction. Oh, if the Monsters had only known that, things would have gone much differently! Was that the reason his mistress had never really gone along with the other Monster Lords' plans? Was she aware that the humans were doing a much better job of destroying themselves than Monsters ever could? Did she know that just killing them wouldn't do a lick of good?

A bitter laugh barely managed to pass his parched, cracked lips, and the burning ran the length of his body. Then, suddenly, hands were upon his chest, cool and soothing through the fabric. He was dimly aware of words being spoken, words that seemed set in a familiar cadence. Then, slowly at first, the death raging through his body began to subside. Fight it, a voice whispered. Come on, this isn't like you.

It's not me, he managed to croak. I'm not me.

Of course you are! the speaker replied. It doesn't matter what powers you have, or what your race is, your soul is still the same.

he mouthed, unable to find the strength to speak.

the voice screamed, hurting his head. Someone get a doctor!

he tried to repeat, wanting to get the hands off his chest but unable to move. He wanted to die, he wanted to escape from his newly-cursed existence. Had Amelia felt like this when he cursed her from the astral plane? Had she felt such agony?

I can't fight infection with a healing spell, the voice growled. You have to fight this, do you understand me?

He couldn't find the strength to try and reply. A tear leaked out from underneath his closed eyelid and he slowly closed his lips. He would try to die with dignity, although he had learned, through thousands of years of ending life, that there never could be any dignity in death.

Just look at me, the voice said angrily. Open your eyes, god dammit!

He let his eyelids flutter open slightly, the only movement he felt capable of. His limbs were slowly turning to stone, and he could feel his reluctant grip on life loosening further. There was Lina, standing over him, her hands glowing with magic. He could see the soft curve of her collarbone where the neck of her pajamas hung loosely, sweat beading on her pale, flawless skin. His gaze met hers and he wished he had the strength to smile at her, so fiercely were her ruby-colored eyes looking at him. Oh, even when she had almost no chance of succeeding she was so determined. That, of course, was one of the reasons he had always been drawn to her. The fire of her life was just too strong to be snuffed out easily. If one wanted to kill her, they would have to completely obliterate everything that she was. He gathered his energy to him and prepared to speak to her for the last time. Why try to save me? he said, voice barely even a whisper.

She stared directly into his eyes, lips pursed and white at the edges. Her brow was furrowed in a scowl and perspiration rolled down her cheeks, which were flushed with effort. I don't know, she replied, voice strained. All I know is that I must.

He closed his eyes, wondering if he would lose consciousness before he died, or if the end would come while he was still aware. He wished he could tell her goodbye, but his strength was completely gone.

It took you long enough! Lina screamed above him, and suddenly there were several sets of hands upon him.

Sorry, miss, an unfamiliar voice said, and the hands fumbled at his clothing. He opened an eye a crack and gazed at the newcomers. Priests, Lina had managed to conjure up priests from somewhere. He let out a sigh. There was probably no hope that he could die now.

This man's wounds are badly infected, another person said.

That's pretty damn obvious, isn't it? Lina snapped. I found him in a ditch, after all. Now what's taking you so long? Hurry up and heal him!

We're trying, miss. You might want to leave the room.

I'm not going anywh-oh,she said, clamming up as he felt the priests begin to cut away his clothing. Let me know when you're finished. He heard her footsteps move rapidly out of the room and the door slammed.

You're lucky your friend called us, one of the priests murmured.

You're also lucky that she's wealthy enough to pay for the fast horses that brought us here through the night, another added.

Yes, lucky me, Xellos wheezed. The priests glanced at one another, and the man nearest to him opened his mouth and poured in a liquid. He felt his head go all fuzzy, and in a few moments he knew nothing at all.