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Choice and Consequences	By : QueenB Category: Angel the Series > Slash - Male/Male > Angel(us)/Lindsey > Angel(us)/Lindsey Views: 2642 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Connor edges away, down the hallway, down from the worst thing he’s ever heard in his life.
His parents aren’t his parents. His whole life is one meaningless lie. But it’s too crazy to believe. He knows his mom and dad, has spent his whole life with them. He can’t recall a time when he never knew them.
He paces back to the lab, sifting frantically through his memories. When could the change have occurred? Before he went to school? Before he met Linda Balfour, his new girlfriend and somebody he was more and more thinking could be The One? Before he fell down the stairs when he was five? When had it happened? Or had he never been with these people he thought of as his family? And if his memories of being with them are fake, what about their memories of him? Do they really love him or only think they do?
He had given in to some unnamable impulse, telling his mom that he wanted to check on his father again. Instead he followed the vampire and that Lindsey guy down the hallway. He’s not even sure how he knew which way they were going; it was as if he could smell them somehow. The thought is a scary one though not much more so than anything else that has been happening to him to recently.
It’s as if, with this whole new world opening to him, certain things that have always troubled him have been rushing to the forefront of his mind, demanding acknowledgement, seeking attention like his whiny sister used to do when she was only two.
He can smell what somebody ate for lunch—hours after they had it. He can pick out the color of someone’s eyes from across the room. He can hear people whispering from a room away, even with the door shut. He has just heard two men discuss a sorcerer who can alter memories and twist minds. One of those men has also sworn Connor is a vampire’s son.
Connor leans against the lab door, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. The vampire Angel has left and part of him wants to go with him and demand answers. Another part is terrified at what he will hear. He’s sure this Angel dude knows more than he’s telling, more than he’s told that man who is horny for him.
Yeah, Connor is pretty sure he can smell that, too. At school, he has always known before word got through the rumor mill who’s sleeping with who just from passing by them in the hallway although sexual orientation isn’t as big a deal for him as it is for his parents. He knows three gay guys at school (and had figured out one was gay before he came out simply because Brian always got THAT smell whenever he was around Connor).
But, if he leaves now, he’ll be abandoning his mom and dad, leaving them in this place that no longer seems like a haven but a magnet for demon assassins and powerful sorcerers who can literally change people’s minds from a distance. He glances back sharply and then opens the lab door.
Lindsey rounds the corner in time to observe the lab door close softly. Has someone entered or left the room before he got back? He opens it to see Mrs. Reilly talking avidly with Fred while Wesley eyes Connor uncertainly. The ex-Watcher looks up as he enters and the familiar hostility re-surfaces in his eyes. Lindsey holds up his hands in a “calm down” gesture. “Before you chew me a new one, Wesley, let me tell you that taking off solo was Angel’s idea. I had nothing to do with that decision.”
Wesley’s voice is cold and unyielding. “But I’m sure it was influenced by something you told him. Do you mind sharing with the class?”
“Actually I do. This is Angel’s baby and, if he didn’t tell you, then I don’t see why I should do so. Besides,” Lindsey shrugs, “shouldn’t you know better than I what he’s up to? I mean, he’s your boss.”
A muscle in Wesley’s jaw bunches and Connor viciously hopes he’ll take a swing at this guy. This Lindsey is an asshole who’s just brought his entire world tumbling down. But if what he said back there was true then he’s Connor’s real father.
Connor can’t stand the thought. He knows Lindsey fought alongside Angel to save his family. But now it looks as the guy might have had another agenda. What if Lindsey’s trying to get Connor away from them?
All at once the blue-eyed teenager just wants to get away from this place. Connor steps forward and tries to be casual. “Hey, if he’s not here, can we go now? I mean, dad seems like he’s in good hands and he can always come home later.”
“No, that’s not a good idea, so—Connor. You’ve been attacked twice now, the second time with your family nearby. You and your folks are safe here. But if you go home, then you’ll probably be assaulted again. It’s best you stay here.”
“Where? This is an office building not a hotel. There aren’t any rooms for us to stay,” Connor’s mom protests.
“Actually, we have a few guest suites, places we set aside for visiting clients who need a safe place to stay while we ready them for their trials,” Wesley replies.
“So we’re not the first ones in this fix, huh?” Connor mumbles. “So are we talking fold-out couches next to the toilets or what?”
“Oh no. The guest suites are real comfortable. The sofas do fold out into beds. But they’re large and comfy and built for two.” Fred’s eyes flick over to Wesley before fixing themselves hurriedly on Connor again. “And there are bathrooms with black and green tiles, fluffy towels and scented soap, shampoo and these robes that are like clouds; they’re so soft.” She pauses when she catches the others staring at her. “Well, I’ve never been. I prefer to sleep in the lab. But I’ve heard some of the CEOs talking about it when they worked late and had to spend the night.”
“I’ll bet it’s really great for those interoffice romances the newspapers are always warning us about.” Connor hasn’t missed the subtle looks Wesley and Fred give each other when they think the other isn’t looking. They’ve also got the subtle smell of turned-on that he got from Lindsey.
Mrs. Reilly frowns. “Connor, shush. That’s none of our business.” She turns to Wesley and Fred. “If you’re sure we won’t be imposing…” She pauses and blanches in shock. “Oh my god! I nearly forgot!”
“Mom?” Connor had thought the worst of the night was over. What could be bothering his mother now?
“What about your sister? She doesn’t know what’s happened tonight! In all the excitement, we forgot to tell her and she doesn’t know where we are! I have to call her.”
Wesley places a hand on her shoulder when she fumbled for her cell phone again. “You don’t need to worry yourself, Mrs. Reilly. The matter is well in hand. The moment Angel came back here with his story, I dispatched several of our agents to the place where Josie is staying. They are careful, well equipped and extremely discreet. Your daughter will be perfectly safe. She won’t even know they’re there. Hopefully, this whole issue will be resolved shortly and you’ll be home tomorrow morning with your daughter none the wiser.”
“I’m thinking she’ll guess something’s up when she sees Dad’s bruises and those cuts on Mom’s face,” Connor says dryly.
Fred shrugs it off. “We’ll tell her you were mugged. That usually does the trick.”
Mrs. Reilly peers at Wesley uncertainly. “H-how do you know Josie’s name? And how do you know where she’s staying?”
Before Wesley can answer, Lindsey replies, “We’re Wolfram & Hart, ma’am. It’s what we do.” The slight scariness of the statement is defused when Lindsey gives Mrs. Reilly another of his sunny smiles which she gratefully returns. He deliberately ignores Wesley’s anger at the word “we.”
Connor notes how casual his mother is around this man and his hatred gets stronger. His dad had better get well soon; otherwise his mother might just jump into bed with this jerk. Well, that would make sense, wouldn’t it? If this guy is his real dad, then why shouldn’t he sleep with his mother?
Choking down the urge to gag, Connor lags behind his mother as they follow Wesley, Lindsey and Fred to the elevator.
__________
Sure enough, the guest suites are as cozy as they have been described. Connor’s mother exclaims over the interior, much nicer than some of the hotels she and her husband have been in. Connor has little or no comment to make, merely plopping down heavily on one of the overstuffed couches.
Lindsey wonders what’s troubling the kid. Earlier he had been full of enthusiasm as Angel talked to him about demons and combating evil. The fact that he might be one met with little true concern on his part. But now the teenager is sullen and withdrawn, evincing no interest in his surroundings, and Lindsey is puzzled at the change.
Eerily familiar blue eyes snap up to his. “Quit staring at me, dude. It’s creeping me out,” Connor growls.
Lindsey starts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was staring.”
“Well, you were. So stop it, alright?” Connor gets up and begins to pace. Lindsey watches his lean, lithe form striding through the space and remembers Angel’s last request.
“Connor, would you like to come to the sparring room with me?” Spike had told him of the number of hours he’d spent there, taking on some demon client or other who thought going a few rounds with a vampire might be amusing. He had boasted of his conquests although Lindsey was certain there were a number of times when Spike had gotten his ass solidly kicked. Hadn’t that Slayer girl managed to cut off his hands?
Connor’s eyes light up, a hostile gleam flickering within them that Lindsey doesn’t catch. “Sure. Just let me tell mom where I’m going.” He knocks on the door and peeps around the edge when she calls for him to come in. His mother is taking a shower and he has to squint to make out her form behind the plastic curtain. “Mom? Mr. McDonald is taking me on a little tour. Is it alright if I go with him?”
She peers out from behind the shower curtain, wiping suds from her eyes. This Lindsey had fought alongside that vampire to protect her and her family and, unlike Mr. Angel, he is reassuringly human. She smiles at Connor. “All right, dear. But don’t be gone too long.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Connor follows Lindsey and eyes the slight ex-lawyer. This shouldn’t take long at all.
__________
For Connor, this place seems to hold endless surprises. It had been dark when they drove into the underground garage and he hadn’t been able to get a clear idea of the space. But so far he’s been in a lab the size of a study hall in Stanford, a bedroom suite like the Ritz complete with two sofa beds and now a gymnasium that he could have sworn was the length of a football field.
There were racks of various weapons lined up neatly against the walls and Connor rushes to seize an enormous two-handled sword. Lindsey smirks as the teenager tries to heft it. “Uh, that’s a little advanced for you, Connor. Let’s try the wooden training ones, all right?”
Connor glares at him. “I can deal with it, dude.”
“Lindsey.” When Connor’s expression doesn’t change, the former lawyer elaborates. “You know, instead of ‘dude’.”
Connor shrugs, irritated. “Whatever. Let’s do this.” He lifts the sword. He manages to bring it up easily in spite of its obvious weight. But his handling of it is clumsy and Lindsey sighs.
“Put it down, Connor. We need to practice stance and defense and that sword isn’t going to work. This is like any other sport. If you don’t go through the proper steps, you might as well forget it.”
The teenager hangs up the sword as he grumbles, “I think you’re just scared I’ll kick your ass, dude.”
Lindsey gives him a measuring look. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first to try.”
__________
Lindsey brings up the practice sword, panting a bit. He’s got demon strength but that doesn’t necessarily translate into skill with weapons. Fortunately, Connor is clueless about swordplay so that gives him a slight advantage. Not much, however.
Lindsey had decided after leaving Los Angeles that first time that learning more about weapons might be a good idea—just in case he and Angel ever got together permanently. (It seemed as if a lot of his choices that first year unconsciously stemmed from the notion that he and the souled vampire might have a future.) The money had to be scraped together for those lessons and his dwindling finances had forced him to abandon them after six months. He’d thought he’d picked up enough to make him fairly competent with a sword.
However, those lessons barely enable him to hold his own against his younger opponent. Connor learns quickly and never makes the same mistake twice. He often gives way to impatience, however, and that gives Lindsey an edge. Connor makes a lightning-fast swing, one that comes perilously close to Lindsey’s head. The former attorney ducks underneath the wild blow and comes under Connor’s guard. He slams the kid into the mat hanging on the wall, the blade at his throat.
“Always keep your guard up, Connor.” Lindsey smirks only to have his smile die away. This close to Connor he can see the hostility clearly in the teenager’s eyes. “Connor?”
“Stop touching me, fag boy.” The insult is deliberately cruel, meant to throw Lindsey off balance, and it works. The southerner’s stance falters and Connor follows up by bashing his forehead into Lindsey’s nose.
At least he tries. But Lindsey has anticipated that move, having done it himself on a lot of larger opponents. Being shorter than other guys sometimes has its advantages. He ducks out of harm’s way, clutching his weapon. Connor charges with his sword swinging out wildly and Lindsey manages to parry it, but only just. The weapon sweeps back and Lindsey drops in a crouch. His legs swing out, connecting with Connor’s, and the young man crashes forward to the mat, his weapon spinning out of reach. Before he can reach for it again, the Oklahoman is on him, twisting one of his assailant’s arms up and behind his back.
Lindsey doesn’t weigh much more than Connor but the angle is enough to keep the teenager pinned and helpless beneath him. Connor twists and swears futilely for several moments before giving up in defeat. For several moments, nothing is heard but the loud panting from both combatants.
“Dammit, Connor! What the hell is going on? I didn’t risk my neck protecting you against demons just to get into a fight with you now!”
Connor twists his head around to glare at the man atop him. “I didn’t ask you to protect me, jerk, so don’t expect any gratitude from me! And I want you off me. I don’t sleep with guys so I’m not taking it up the ass from you.”
Lindsey tightens his grip on the boy’s wrist, shoving them up farther along his back. “That’s not going to fool me twice, Connor. You’re no more homophobic than I am.”
Connor snarls, “Go screw your boyfriend then. Oh, wait, maybe he’s gone off to screw this Cyvus Vail guy.”
Lindsey is stunned by this statement although he still doesn’t let it rattle him enough to let go. “You heard that?” Angel had listened for eavesdroppers and hadn’t detected anyone. Wait, Angel had sworn that he heard something earlier but then dismissed it. Apparently the boy had been too far away for even the vampire to sense.
“I heard the two of you, alright. Must be one of those enhanced abilities he was mouthing off about earlier.”
Lindsey hears the bitterness and hysteria lurking just beneath the surface. “Okay, so you heard a few things. We don’t know what’s true and what isn’t at this point, so you shouldn’t pay any attention to what I said.” He grins to alleviate the tension. Pinned as he is to the floor, Connor can’t see it.
“Just let me up,” he hisses.
“If I do, you have to promise not to fight me again, Connor. I promised Angel I’d take care of you.”
“Why? Because he’s your boyfriend?” Connor sneers.
Lindsey doesn’t rise to the bait. “Because I care about you. And because I cared about Darla.” He can sense how intrigued the boy is about that and Lindsey decides it’s safe to let him go.
Connor rolls on to his butt and resists rubbing at his arm. “Darla? That vampire the two of you were talking about? I don’t get that. You cared about her. And you’ve got the hots for that Angel dude. I could smell it, guy, so don’t deny it. Do you have a thing for vampires or what?”
Lindsey manages to keep his face impassive. He only flushes uncontrollably around Angel. “I don’t have a ‘thing’ for vampires, Connor. I used to work with them; I know how dangerous they are. I was just lucky none of our clients got a yen for small southern boys.” Lindsey isn’t about to enlighten Connor about being locked in with Darla and her mad Sire. Some secrets are better left unspoken.
Lindsey eyes him again. This close, the resemblance to Darla is uncanny. Lindsey hadn’t loved her. He’d merely been greedily obsessed with her, something he’d been able to admit to only after time and distance. But he had felt a tender pity for her that might have grown into something else if the circumstances had been different.
He is certain Angel had known a kind of love for Darla. Once she’d lost her humanity again, she’d taunted Lindsey with the tale of Angel’s valor in the trials the souled vampire had undergone for her. She’d made it clear she thought Lindsey incapable of that kind of bravery or strength.
But Connor represents so much more than vanished dreams with Darla. What would it mean to have a son, a boy of his very own?
That same boy is scowling at him again. “I told you about the staring, dude.”
He averts his eyes. “Sorry. And please—call me Lindsey.”
“As long as you don’t ask me to call you dad.” The kid is certainly blunt. That’s definitely not a Darla trait. She was never upfront about anything unless it fell into her plans of the moment.
“Deal.” There is a moment of tense silence following the brief exchange. Lindsey almost wishes they were fighting again.
“Well? Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to go to that Wesley guy? I’m pretty sure he’ll come clean. He really doesn’t like you. He was pretty harsh back there in the lab. What’s up with that?”
Lindsey sighs. “There’s a lot of history there, Connor, most of it really bad. If you’re going to hear it, you might as well get comfortable.” Lindsey stands and walks over to one of the workout benches. Draping a towel around his neck, he extends another to Connor. The boy shakes his head, mutely rejecting it. Lindsey can see why. He’s dripping wet but the teenager hasn’t even broken into a sweat.
Connor sits beside him and Lindsey is relieved to see that he doesn’t shy away. So he was right; Connor isn’t homophobic. He wonders just how accepting the adolescent is about alternative lifestyles. Well, that’s a question for another time.
“Many years ago, before Angel became head of Wolfram & Hart, he came to Los Angeles to fight the demons and protect the innocent. The law firm wasn’t—really on board with that. We helped demons with lawsuits or defended satanic creatures from being convicted of crimes they’d committed against humanity and Angel was definitely the fly in the ointment. You see, we were the bad guys.” Lindsey manages to say the trite phrase with a wry smile. Connor doesn’t return it.
“So what happened? How’d Angel wind as the head honcho of this place and you wind up working with him?”
Lindsey takes in a deep breath before continuing. “Angel has a dark alter ego, his inner demon, a real badass that goes by the name of Angelus…”
It’s a lengthy tale and Lindsey doesn’t flinch from reciting the worst of it. He includes his defense of clients like the blind assassin and Russell Winters, the vampire predator of helpless, desperate young girls; his teaming with a psychotic Slayer (and the mention of super powered women really piques Connor’s interest); the resurrection of the human Darla, complete with the original syphilis that would kill her slowly, forcing the return of Angelus. There is more, much more, and Lindsey doesn’t hesitate in telling any of it.
Connor is stunned. “Wow. Man, that’s just—wow.”
“You’re telling me, kid.”
“And you turned this Darla back into a vampire.” Connor makes a face. “Lindsey, that’s sick. I thought you loved her. How could you do that?”
“I wanted to save her from dying and, the way I was thinking, it seemed the only way at the time.” Lindsey sighs. “Sometimes it seems unreal, you know? Like it was a whole other life, a whole other me. I’m not making excuses. I was doing what I had to do to survive and my job meant doing things I’m not proud of. I just wish I could have been there for Darla when she had you.” Lindsey hasn’t really thought of what Darla must have suffered to have a baby. He only hopes she didn’t go through it alone.
“D-do I look a lot like her? That’s why you keep staring, isn’t it?” Connor stares defiantly at Lindsey, as if daring him to deny it.
“Sometimes. It’s in the eyes and the chin mostly. And you’re a bit on the small side, like her,” Lindsey replies.
Connor rocks back and forth, his arms wound around his body. The posture is curiously defenseless, making him look more like a child than a teenager and Lindsey has to resist the urge to pull him into his arms. “So she’s a vampire and the two of you—” Connor swallows. “I can’t believe it, that I could be the child of a vampire. That’s just crazy like Angel said. Vampires can’t have kids. They’re just dead flesh, aren’t they? I know how babies get made and vampires don’t have anything alive in them to create children. I mean, how could they?”
Lindsey shrugs helplessly. “There’s a lot we don’t understand about otherworldly creatures like the undead. How can vampires think if their brains are dead? How can they speak or enunciate words if breath isn’t going in and out of their lungs? It’s a mystical thing; perhaps humans aren’t meant to quantify it in scientific terms. As for children, well, in Serbia they have myths of dhampirs.”
Connor blinks at the unfamiliar word. “Dam whats?”
“Dhampirs. They’re supposedly sons sired by vampires. According to myth, they have superhuman strength and the ability to see and fight the undead.”
“Then that’s what I am? A, a…” Rage passes over Connor’s face, with the abrupt shift of emotion experienced by most teenagers. “No! That’s just bullshit! I’m not buying any of it!”
“I know it sounds incredible,” Lindsey replies. “But it’s the only thing that would explain your greater than human strength and keen senses. These things just aren’t normal in…” Lindsey falters
Connor’s fists clench. He looks on the verge of attacking Lindsey again. “They’re not normal in human beings. So you’re saying I’m not really human.”
“The tests show otherwise,” Lindsey replies, trying to soften the blow. Now that he’s witnessing Connor’s distress, he perversely hopes that it isn’t true and scrambles to assure him. “Blood work, X-rays, MRI scans all say ‘Grade A human.’”
“What about those DNA tests you’re running? Won’t they show if I’m, you know, all demonic deep down?”
“It wouldn’t make any difference to me, Connor,” Lindsey says in a low voice.
“But’ll make a helluva difference to me!” Connor pulls away from him, his jaw working. “And what about mom and dad? They’re my real parents. Everything I know and feel tells me they’re mine. But what’ll they think if they find out I’m some kind of genetic mutant, that I’m not their son? They were freaking tonight just because I didn’t have a scratch on me from that van that crashed into me. They’ll totally flip out if they hear I’m not human!”
Connor gets up from the bench and paces back and forth in a tight line. “And how can I be her kid? According to you, this whole thing went down only a couple of years ago. I’m kinda tall for a toddler, don’t ya think?”
Lindsey shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, Connor. We’re probably dealing with really powerful magic here. I just don’t know how much of reality has been altered to create your life.”
Reality had been altered? It wasn’t just his memories, then, that might be flaky.
Connor stops and glares at Lindsey as if this whole mess is his fault. Lindsey supposes it is. He looks down and sighs, not wanting to meet that accusing gaze. “I-I’m sorry, Connor. I guess I was so thrilled at the idea you could be my son, I-I didn’t stop to think about all the consequences.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should have.” The boy isn’t in the mood to be forgiving. Well, the young are like that. Lindsey remembers how hostile he was when his father joked with the repo men who took away their furniture. He’d hated those guys carting away bits and pieces of his life. But he’d hated his dad more for his feeble compliance and cringing that had him posing as a good sport. Why the hell didn’t the old man get pissed off? These guys were no better than thieves and his father had clowned around with them like they were beer buddies! He’d despised the old man for that.
But Connor has even more reason to hate Lindsey and the Oklahoman feels a devastating sense of loss even though he’s not losing anything he ever had. Connor doesn’t see himself as Lindsey’s son and who can blame him? He has less to offer the kid than his own father had.
Connor doesn’t get it. Lindsey has gone eerily mute and doesn’t seem to know he’s there any more. The teenager isn’t sure he likes the quiet; it’s too creepy and makes the sparring room a lot less comfortable. He casts around for a change in subject. “And about those visions. How do they work?” Connor probes.
“Painfully.” He chuckles a little only to notice that Connor isn’t joining in. Geez, the kid is as serious as Angel sometimes. “Kid, don’t worry yourself about it. I don’t and it’s really not that—GAAAAHH!” The vision knocks him off the bench, his body spasming as the images begin rolling.
The demon has white eyes, stringy hair that could use a shampoo and a face that looks as if it has been set on fire several times. It’s not quite natural and Lindsey is sure this is a kind of disfigurement, the result of an injury or a particularly vicious battle. Most demons could be said to be unattractive to human eyes but their faces usual hold a queer symmetry and a rightness that stated that this was the demon’s correct appearance, this was how nature had fashioned it to look in order to function best in the world. But this demon’s face is just wrong.
He is engaging in a battle with Connor and it’s obvious from the boy’s stumbling, unsure movements that he’s getting the worst of it. Angel is standing nearby; he can see him looking helplessly into the room where the boy is.
Lindsey’s point of view shifts abruptly. Now he is standing beside Angel. Seated next to the anxious vampire is a shriveled husk of a demon with various tubes running from his body to a machine stationed nearby. Lindsey isn’t sure how he knows but he’s certain this withered shell is Cyvus Vail.
Angel’s eyes dart angrily between the combat in the other room and the red-skinned creature by his side. It’s clear he’d like to rip out Vail’s throat; Lindsey wonders what’s stopping him.
The decrepit creature is watching the fight as well. His gaze is intent but impassive. The outcome of the battle seems to hold a particular fascination for him but he’s manifestly unconcerned with Connor’s well being as the boy struggles to defeat the burnt demon pummeling him without letup.
Lindsey shifts closer, around Angel, and now he can see Vail more clearly. The creature has to be one of the frailest and most helpless thing he’s ever seen. But such a thing wouldn’t necessarily stop Angel from killing him. Then he sees what Vail is holding. The demon has what seems to be a shining star held in one hand, his fingers curled loosely over it. Lindsey squints and the image sharpens. It is not a star but a yellow cube he recognizes as an Orlon Window.
There is a crash from the other room and Lindsey turns. He sees the burnt demon throw Connor hard across the inner chamber and winces in sympathy. For some reason, Angel is making no attempt to help the boy’s clearly pathetic efforts to defend himself. The next moment, Lindsey sees why when the brunette vampire flings himself forward and caroms off an invisible barrier. Angel’s mouth moves silently but Lindsey can read the anguish in his eyes.
“Dude, what is it? What’s wrong?” Connor was shocked to see the man fall or rather plunge off the bench beside him. Then he began to twitch like he’d been shot. Now Connor crouches next to him, uncertain what to do to help the man who is so visibly in agony. Finally, he settles for lying on top of Lindsey, using his own body to keep him from flailing around and hurting himself further.
Gradually, the convulsions subside and the man lies still. His face is slack with the eyes clenched shut and his body is dripping with sweat again. He stinks of pain and an acrid scent Connor is sure is fear. “L-Lindsey? Are you okay? Say something; you’re really freaking me out here.”
The man opens his eyes. Connor’s concerned gaze is met with a glazed stare that seems to go right through him. Then Lindsey focuses on the boy and licks dry lips. “Water,” he croaks.
“Water? Yeah, sure, sure. No problem. Just stay put, okay?” Connor gets up and runs to the water coolers. When he returns with a paper cup filled with water, he sees Lindsey trying to pull himself on to the bench. “Hey! What did I say about staying put?”
Lindsey grimaces and only renews his efforts. Connor rolls his eyes. “Fine. If you’re going to be that way…” He sits and yanks the man on to the bench with one hand. Lindsey is pulled on to the bench so quickly he wobbles and nearly falls off the other side. Connor steadies him with one hand and holds up the cup to his lips.
Lindsey doesn’t like being babied like this but he’s silently grateful for the help. He’s barely able to remove the bottle of aspirins from his pocket; getting off the child-proof cap proves impossible for his shaking hands. Connor takes it from him and twists off the cap, handing him back the bottle without a word.
Lindsey shakes out four tablets and takes them one by one with hard gulps of water. This vision was truly awful both in content and intensity. And he’s going to have to explain to the young man staring at him so intently.
“Lindsey, was that a vision? I mean, shit, that looked awful. I thought you said they weren’t that bad?”
“They aren’t. Usually,” Lindsey lies. He doesn’t want the boy worrying about him. His visions are his own fault and his responsibility; no use bitching about them to someone who can’t help. He sighs and wipes his hand over his face before sipping more of the water.
Connor’s eyes widen. “Lindsey? Is that normal?”
“Is what normal?” The kid is staring at his face and Lindsey frowns. Then he feels a slow trickle from his nose and wipes at it again. He freezes, staring at his hand. There is a smear of blood on his fingers and, as he looks down, he can see more drops falling into the cup of water in his other hand.
“That’s not a good sign, is it?”
“No, it’s okay.” Lindsey wads up the towel and presses it to his nose. He speaks again, his voice slightly muffled by the threads. “I must have gotten hit by one of those demons in the fight.”
The teenager looks pissed. “Bullshit. You weren’t bleeding before unless one of them clipped you in the head and this is some sort of delayed reaction. None of those things laid a claw on you. Angel saw to that.” Connor lifts his hand to Lindsey’s face and then drops it without touching him. “You gonna tell him about this?”
“No!” Lindsey snaps. “And neither are you.” Lindsey presses harder on his face and trots to the men’s bathrooms. Even though he can’t hear the boy’s quiet movements, he knows Connor is following him.
“Why not? I thought you always told Angel your visions.”
“Not always,” Lindsey mutters. “And there’s no point in letting him know about this.” He gestures at his face.
“Why not?” Connor repeats as they enter the men’s room.
Lindsey stands in front of the bathroom mirror and turns on the water faucet. “Because there’s nothing he can do to help. Nobody can help. That’s why you can’t tell him about this. He’ll only worry and—” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I don’t want that.”
When the water is warm enough, Lindsey washes his face furiously. He tries not to glance in the mirror as he does so. He remembers his wasted appearance the last time he was struck with an omen; no need to take another look now.
A few drops have dripped on to the T-shirt he stripped down to in order to spar with Connor. He peels it off and chucks it into the garbage can before putting on his shirt again. He only hopes he’s scrubbed away all of the blood so Angel doesn’t smell it. He remembers how the vampire had detected bloody residue from his final sexual bout with Spike even though he’d washed himself thoroughly in the shower first.
Connor watches all this mutely before speaking again. “Look, if you’re not going to tell Angel about this, can you at least tell me? M-my mom and dad weren’t it, were they?”
Lindsey’s lips twitch in an attempt at a reassuring smile. “No. I think they’re okay, Connor.” He touches his nose gingerly. He should probably put ice on it to prevent more bleeding. But it seems okay for now.
The teenager senses his evasion. “Then what about me? Am I in it? What’s going to happen?”
Lindsey shakes his head and then regrets it when pain blooms again behind his closed eyelids in rosy red bursts. He breathes through the pain, letting the feeling ebb away, before speaking again. “I’m not sure. My visions are fairly accurate. But that doesn’t mean the futures I see can’t be changed.”
“You’re bullshitting me again. That means it’s about me and it’s bad otherwise you’d tell me.” Connor leans against one of the stall doors, his body one stressed arch from his shoulders to his splayed-out feet. “Are there more demons involved?” When Lindsey doesn’t answer, he bangs a nearby metal door with his fist. “Answer me, you shit!”
The door falls off its hinges and crashes to the floor. Connor stares at the damage, absolutely shocked, and Lindsey flicks a smirk at him. Guess the kid doesn’t know his own strength yet. “Don’t worry about it. Just tell Angel it was like that when you got here. That’s what I always told my dad if he caught me standing over a broken dish. Didn’t always save my ass from getting tanned but it’s worth a shot.”
For Connor, the ugliness of the statement is not eased by Lindsey’s apparent indifference. “Your dad beat you? Lindsey, that is messed up. Seriously.”
Lindsey shrugs slightly. “That’s kinda the way they did things back home. Lots of kids in a certain social class got the same treatment so it’s no big deal.”
“Social class?” Connor’s voice is uncertain and a thousand questions struggle for expression behind those blue eyes. Lindsey is touched by his worry for him. From antagonism to concern in a few short hours—and all it took was a skull-crushing vision. Maybe he should fake another one just to have the boy’s hands on him again…
From the need of being touched by human hands, the thought of Angel rises unbidden to his mind. He wonders how the vampire is faring. Angel has been gone for a while. It’s not so long given the isolation of Cyvus’s residence; the man suffered from the trite desire of the very rich to segregate themselves from the common masses and his mansion is typically rather remote. Still, he’s beginning to worry. From all the rumors, Cyvus Vail is a powerful creature and not to be trifled with; Angel may have bitten off more than he can chew.
Connor watches various emotions play out on the other guy’s face. He smells different now, the pain scent that was so disturbing fading to be replaced by something else. What’s bothering Lindsey now? “Anything I should know?”
“Huh? No, just worried about Angel. He’s still tracking down that lead and I’m hoping he’s okay.”
“That Cyvus Vail guy? The one who alters memories?” Lindsey doesn’t say anything. He can anticipate what the teenager will ask him next. Sure enough, Connor doesn’t disappoint him. “You really think that? That you could be my...my father?”
Lindsey raises his eyes to meet Connor’s. “I don’t know. Not for sure.”
“Betting those DNA tests will clear it up, though.” His voice is flat without particular emotion although Lindsey reads the terror behind those blue eyes. Connor hasn’t had centuries to become skilled at hiding his feelings like Angel and Darla.
“Actually, those tests aren’t always 100% accurate. Even Wolfram & Hart’s sophisticated technology doesn’t always get it right.”
“But it’ll be close enough so you’ll know. One way or the other.” Connor begins to pace again. His agile body is flickering from all the gleaming surfaces as he flashes back and forth in the space. The room is very large compared to what passes for bathrooms in most public venues. But it’s beginning to feel rather cramped with the teenager’s agitated movements.
“Close enough isn’t good enough. It’ll put it in the realm of possibility. But that’s all.”
Connor looks up, so miserable Lindsey again wants to take him in his arms. He suspects the kid might punch him if he tries it. “What about my folks? I-I love ‘em, dude. And they love me. You can’t fake that. I don’t care if there is a spell involved. You can’t call up love like it’s a dating service.”
It sounds like defiance and query, both at once. The boy wants reassurance that his life is real, that it all means something. But he doesn’t want to be lied to, a stubborn clinging to truth that is touching and heart-wrenching at once. Connor’s turned out to be an unflinchingly honest, upright person. If Lindsey and Darla are his true parents, then this decency must come from nurture rather than nature; the Southerner doesn’t see how the two of them with their twisted, broken psyches and ugly pasts could have imparted such fine qualities to him.
In any case, Lindsey is too tired to carry on this conversation further. He has no reassurances to give that won’t sound like lies. So he hangs his aching head and says nothing.
Connor shifts from one foot to the other. He hasn’t gotten any clear answers, only one weird story and more questions. But he believes that Lindsey has come clean to him for the most part. The silence between them stretches out again and then Lindsey sighs.
Raising his head, he smiles faintly at the fidgety teenager. “I think we’ve spent enough time down here and I’m not up to showing you any more fighting moves. What say we go back upstairs and see if Angel has come back?” Even as he speaks, he is hurrying towards the elevator. He turns towards Connor. “Do you see any blood on me anywhere, Connor?”
The blue eyes, almost identical to his own, flick over his body. “Naw. You’re clean.”
Lindsey reaches out to grasp his arm, the first intimate touch he’s allowed himself. “Connor, you won’t tell Angel or the others about the vision, won’t you?”
“No. If it’s not important or about me and my folks then—no.”
Lindsey smiles gratefully at him, absurdly pleased that they’re sharing a secret. “Thanks, Connor.” Lindsey would like to ask him whether he smells any hint of blood but he doesn’t want to disturb the kid any further than he has. The elevator arrives and the two step on to it without another word.

TBC
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Choice and Consequences