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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Angel surveys his team. They’ve all gathered in his office to discuss the latest turn in events. Mrs. Reilly has long since succumbed to nervous exhaustion and fallen asleep in the upper floor guest suite. Perhaps that’s for the best. She’d never agree with the current plan and he doesn’t like it himself. But Connor needs to know what he’s in for.
“So you’re saying this Cyvus Vail sent these demons after Connor and his family in order to force Connor to kill this Sahjahn? Why? And how do we know Mr. McDonald isn’t involved?” Wesley asks.
“Wes, let it go!” Angel rumbles, a warning note in his voice.
“No, Angel. Look at the facts! He’s been feeding you visions secretly all this time. Regardless of his facile excuse, it seems like that was just a cunning attempt to get you to trust him. Now he’s here just when the attacks on this boy start? It doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me. It’s just another plot like the ones we’ve always faced from Wolfram & Hart in the past.”
Connor shakes his head, exasperated by Wesley’s continuing paranoia. “Wes, you didn’t see—”
Lindsey’s eyes flash. “Connor.” Angel becomes alerted by Lindsey’s warning tone and Connor’s sudden embarrassed, furtive expression.
“Didn’t see what? What is it Wesley didn’t see?” The vampire’s penetrating eyes fasten unwaveringly on Connor and the boy shuffles his feet a little.
“Wesley didn’t see the way Lindsey kicked demon ass, that’s all,” Connor mumbles. “He was really something, Wes. There’s no way a bad guy would fight like that.”
Wesley is continuing his rant. “Forgive me for saying this, Connor. But you’re a little naïve about the way people like Mr. McDonald think. He was a lawyer who worked for this place back when they were scheduling to bring about an apocalypse. He is devious with a mind like a twisted staircase. He cannot be reliably depended on.”
Lindsey is swept with shame, a rare emotion for him. Wesley is right; he really can’t be trusted. Angel hasn’t mentioned that Cyvus is a demon and he wonders why that crucial detail was omitted. But the Orlon Window Lindsey saw in his vision gives him a hint at the answer. He knows what the Window is and what its destruction means. Angel doesn’t want the others to know that and for the moment Lindsey decides to keep it to himself. That makes him no better than Angel but, unlike the vampire, he owes no loyalty to the team. The rationalization doesn’t make him feel much better about lying to Connor.
Connor wants so badly to tell Wesley about the vision attack he’d witnessed in the sparring room, what he’s overheard in the hallway. Lindsey cared about that Darla. Human or vampire, his feelings for her hadn’t wavered. Connor could tell just from the way he talked about her. Lindsey thinks he is Connor’s father and cares about him; Connor is certain of that, too. If he finds out Connor wasn’t human, his feelings for him won’t change either. And why would he get visions that were giving him nosebleeds and migraines just to trick Angel? How can that whole thing be just an act?
Lindsey can see Connor’s inner struggle to tell all and knows he has to distract him fast. “So when does Connor have to face off against this Sahjahn?”
“Tonight. Now. Evidently, something’s happened to make this Vail character nervous. He wouldn’t tell me what. He just says that urns have a habit of breaking and Sahjahn is a loose end he wants tied up.”
“That is odd,” Wesley muses, his antagonism towards Lindsey momentarily distracted by the change of subject. “According to what you say, Sahjahn has been safely locked away in a jar like a genie in a bottle. Suddenly this man gets nervous about it and decides he must be dealt with? Why?”
Angel replies, “He only acquired the urn recently at auction. Until it was safely in his possession, where he could keep an eye on it, he saw no need to call in an expert to get rid of the demon.”
Wesley grunts. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Then Connor’s going to fight Sahjahn. And I’ll be going with him,” Angel adds.
“Uh, hey,” Connor interjects.
“Now that doesn’t make sense, Angel. Why should we do what this Vail says? If he sincerely wanted our help, why send demons after Connor? Why not just solicit the services of Wolfram & Hart? He was a valuable aid to them in the past. Why not simply ask us to help?” Wesley demands.
Connor again tries to interrupt. “Guys.”
Angel shrugs. He’s lying—to everyone in the room now, not just his team. But there’s no way he can come clean with the truth, not after all this time and with Cyvus’s threat hanging over his head. His voice is smooth and impassive, almost light, as he continues spinning the elaborate web of deceit he’s created for himself. “Maybe he thought that since Wolfram & Hart was under new management—our management—we wouldn’t be so quick to help him the way they might have in the past,” he ventures.
Again Lindsey gets the sense that Angel’s hiding something. But maybe he doesn’t want Wesley to know about the whole Lindsey/Darla parental issue. Is that what Vail is holding over Angel’s head? “So we’re going along with you and Connor—just in case Vail tries a double cross.”
Angel objects to that new plan. “He won’t do that. He’s got no personal grudge against us; he just wants this Sahjahn dead—”
Connor sticks his fingers in his mouth and lets out a shrill whistle. When the others turn to him, he glares. “Uh, hello? Junior champion in the room? This Vail guy wants me to go up against this Sahjahn alone, right? I’m thinking that means no backup or the deal’s off.”
Angel shakes his head. “Sorry, Connor. Facing Sahjahn alone is not a good idea.”
“This Vail guy said I had to fly this one solo, right? So what makes you think he’ll even let you tag along?” Connor isn’t so certain he can do this, not after only a couple of short hours of sword practice with Lindsey. But his family is in danger so backing out is not an option.
“He will if he wants to be sure Sahjahn is dead and won’t come after him again.”
“But if there’s this whole prophecy that says I’m the only one that can kill this Sahjahn dude, then I don’t see what help you can do.”
“Angel has fought more demons than you’ve had hot dinners,” Wesley points out.
“But if it’s a destiny thing—” Connor begins.
Fred snaps, “You know what? Forget that. We make our own destiny. Oh sure, the chaos theory means the universe is going to throw in a certain percentage of random probability into the otherwise precise workings of quantum mechanics. But visions can be misinterpreted, prophecies misread and destiny is just another word for not bothering to think things out or doing things for yourself. So screw destiny!”
The others are staring at her as if she’s grown another head. “Um, well said,” Wesley murmurs.
“Then it looks like the two of us are going to kick some demon butt,” Connor smirks.
“Three of us,” Lindsey adds.
“Four,” Wesley states decisively. Fred frowns and wonders if he’s including her; there are five involved by her count.
“We really don’t need the extra help. When I went to see Cyvus Vail, I killed most of his demon guards. He’s probably sent the rest home.” Angel grins and his face shifts back and forth between his human and demonic facades as if thrilled at the memory of tearing through a small army of demon henchmen.
“Angel, we’re your team. Part of it anyway,” Wesley adds, thinking of absent members. “Fred and I would be far more at ease if you had us watching your back.” He doesn’t look at Lindsey as he speaks but the implication is clear. He’s still wary of the former Wolfram & Hart lawyer and prefers for Angel to have known allies on his team.
“Wesley, this isn’t up for debate,” Angel growls.
“Fine. Then the discussion is over.” Wesley pulls open his jacket and reaches for the handgun in his holster. He checks to see that it’s fully loaded and replaces it. Fred crosses to the weapons cabinet and pulls out a crossbow. Lindsey is looking over his trank gun while the vampire stands there fuming.
“Did I miss something? I’m the boss here. Since when does everybody just ignore me and do what he wants?” Angel yells.
“Since we’ve decided not to follow one of your hair-brained schemes. It’s suicidal to go in with just you and Connor when this Cyvus Vail is probably expecting such a ploy on your part,” Wesley tells him. Lindsey shows no reaction at not being included among the group; guess all his attempts to sway Wesley are doomed to failure.
“We’re helping you, Angel, whether you like it or not,” Fred adds.
“Looks like you’ve been outvoted, dude,” Connor says and follows this by slapping Angel on the back.
The vampire glares at the roomful of people and then huffs in exasperation. He crosses to the wall and lifts off his favorite broadsword. Connor eyes the weapon enviously. “Can I get one of those?”
Angel makes an idle swing with the sword, causing it to sing in the air before answering his son. “I don’t know, Connor. It’s a bit advanced. Lindsey, how’d he do with his sparring lessons?”
Lindsey grimaces. “He’s a fast learner, Angel. I’m not sure whether he’s good enough to take on this Sahjahn, though. What does he fight like?”
Angel hesitates. This was literally the moment of truth. Sahjahn is another uncertain element in the altered memories. The demon brought Holtz into the future. But he hadn’t become an active danger or presence to the A.I. team until Angel had inadvertently made him solid in attempting to get Connor back from the Quortoth. If Connor never existed in their memories as part of their lives, then that foolish attempt to retrieve the innocent babe never occurred and Sahjahn remained a distant unknown threat. Just what does his team remember of him?
Wesley quickly solves the mystery. “Angel encountered him when an old enemy named Holtz was brought to this current time. He struck a deal with this Sahjahn—no one knows what kind of a bargain—and Sahjahn brought Holtz to this century in order to destroy Angelus.”
“Angelus? That’s your inner demon, right?” Angel looks at Connor, his face settling into grim lines and Connor grins feebly. “Uh, me and Lindsey, we had a talk.”
“Oh, did you?” Angel’s voice is low and he stares at Lindsey, anger simmering in his dark eyes.
Connor senses the tension and scrambles for a way to get out of it. “So, uh, who’s this Holtz guy? Do we have to worry about him or is he out of the picture?”
Fred is the next one to speak up. “Oh, Holtz is gone. He and his group of demon hunters made a last-ditch attack on Angel and the rest of us. Angel chased him in order to keep him from coming back and harassing us again. But he escaped into some demon dimension Sahjahn opened for him.”
Wesley continues, picking up the thread. “Sahjahn became corporeal after Holtz’s escape. He’d been an insubstantial wraith before then. Somehow his bargain with Holtz made him flesh and he was able to attack Angel on his own.”
Connor frowns, trying to follow this story. It doesn’t sound right, like a script written by a student hack film writer buzzed on caffeine and skipping the details that would link everything together into a sensible story. “Riiiiight. So how’d that happen, why’d he attack Angel and how’d he get trapped in that urn?”
Wesley shrugs, as helpless to explain the details as he is to understand them. “Sahjahn claimed to have some ancient grudge against Angelus; that’s why he recruited Holtz in the first place—to do his dirty work for him. But when he became solid again, he just decided to go after Angel on his own.”
Fred hurries to finish the story. “Then one of Holtz’s fellow fanatics who got left behind when her boss took off got an urn and trapped Sahjahn in it. That’s all we knew up until now.”
Connor shakes his head. “And all this is somehow tied up with some ancient prophecy that’s got me killing this Sahjahn dude. Whatever. Guess the details don’t really matter. Hand we a sword and let’s vamoose.”
Angel sighs and pulls another sword out of the cabinet. The group gives one last weapons check before exiting the office. “Now, Connor, I’ve fought Sahjahn before. He’s tough but he relies more on brute strength than any real fighting technique. You don’t need any fancy moves with the sword. Just wait for an opening and go for it.”
“No problem.” Connor thinks there might be a problem though. He’s only been in one demon brawl and the guy standing next to him bailed him out of it.
Angel continues to talk, his glance lingering on Connor’s face. “Sahjahn’s thing, though, is to talk to you, get under your skin. He’ll try to trick you with lies. Just ignore him and don’t answer him or listen to him no matter what he says.”
“Got it.” Connor walks alongside him, nervously patting the sword. It’s stuck in a scabbard Angel had cinched to his waist. It’s solidly secured enough but the way it bangs against his leg when he walks is distracting.
“He’s strong but you’re fast, a lot faster than he is.” Connor looks at him, his eyebrows raised in silent query. “I, um, saw that when you hit that demon,” Angel states hurriedly. “You’ve got speed on your side. Use that; dart in and out with fast, hard jabs. Keep him off balance.”
“Sure, sure, whatever.”
“Remember what I said about his talking to you. Don’t let him get to you. And try to get under his swings. Don’t let him get his hands on you. You’re tough but this guy uses his fists to crush people’s skulls.”
Connor rolls his eyes. “Dude!”
“What?”
“Cut it out, will you? You’re seriously freaking me out here.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just—you need to know these things,” Angel mutters.
Wesley smiles at hearing Angel talk although the vampire’s tone is puzzling. He sounds like a coach giving last minute instructions before a game. Yet there’s an undercurrent of tender solicitude towards the young lad that sounds a trifle out of place given Angel’s determination to avoid this case to begin with.
He thinks back to his earlier conversation with Fred about Angel’s apparent determination to ignore the visions and signs surrounding this Connor. What was it Fred had said? That Angel must have a good reason for turning his back on the Reillys’s dilemma and that he knew something about Connor the rest of them didn’t?
He sneaks a look at Fred. She has changed out of the slinky skirt she’d worn earlier to a more convenient and battle worthy pair of pants after Angel had left to see this Cyvus Vail. There hadn’t been any mention of fighting then but previous experience with A.I. and her own tenure as a runaway slave have taught Fred to be ready for trouble at a moment’s notice.
The pants are revealing, though, accentuating the curves of her bum marvelously like the tight but not too binding top she is wearing. Realizing the inappropriateness of his thoughts, he tries to drag his mind back to more relevant matters.
Lindsey stalks to the elevator slightly behind the others, his mind working furiously. He’s got his own plan but it’s going to require some finesse to pull it off. When the elevator arrives, he waits for Fred and Wesley to board. Then he hesitates, saying, “You know what? Maybe I should get a sword, too. You two go on ahead and I’ll get one out of the office.”
Wesley’s look sharpens but Angel waves him and the brunette Texan woman onward. When the elevator doors slide shut, Lindsey waits until the moving lights indicate it is between floors. Then he reaches out and pulls the elevator panel off the wall. The lights stop moving, stuck between two floors.
Angel stares at him. “Lindsey? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Keeping your team out of danger, Angel,” the Oklahoman replies, smirking. Then he sighs. “We don’t need them if you’ve gotten rid of most of Vail’s bodyguards. Let’s just keep it to the three of us. We can deal with Vail by ourselves. Fred and Wesley will be just fine where they are until we come back for them.”
The vampire looks unconvinced by his argument but finally nods in agreement. He has his own reasons for keeping Fred and Wesley out of things; this has just made it a lot simpler.
Connor gapes at the ruined mess of the elevator panel. “Aren’t the two of them going to be mad when they get out of there?”
“I don’t think so. I got the feeling Wesley and Fred need time together to go over some things,” Lindsey replies smugly.
Connor grins. “Oh, you got that, too, huh? I knew I smelled something when they were together. I was just wondering why he wasn’t making a move.”
Lindsey stares back at him, uncertain whether to be fascinated or repulsed. “You smelled that?”
Angel beams, pride at Connor’s accomplishments welling up in him. “Connor’s got a keen sense of smell. It’s all part of the package.”
Another elevator arrives and all three board it to the ground floor, Connor in front with the vampire and Oklahoman bringing up the rear. The Oklahoman’s look is measuring. “You don’t seem particularly surprised. And what package are we talking here?”
“Listen to this. I’m standing in an elevator with two gay guys who are discussing my package. Boy, what would mom and dad think?” He grins when both men stare at him, Angel embarrassed and Lindsey amused. “Oh yeah. Can smell that too.”
“Still impressed with his package, Angel?” Lindsey murmurs. The vampire glares at him as the elevator arrives at the underground garage.
__________
“Wesley! What’s happened? Why has the elevator stopped?”
“I have no idea, Fred,” Wesley mutters. He’s pressed the emergency button but he has no idea how long it will take for an ambulance to arrive. Or should he expect the police?
Angel and Connor are in danger, although he’s not concerned so much for the vampire’s sake. Still, Lindsey McDonald is involved and that makes the situation doubly dangerous for the vampire and the Reilly kid. He thinks Angel must be crazy if he trusts his old adversary to watch his back. Perhaps this elevator malfunction is part of Lindsey’s elaborate scheme to destroy Angel...
Sod it. He’s not waiting for rescue with his boss and friend in potential danger. “Fred, we’re getting out of here. If you sit on my shoulders, you should be able to reach the panel in the elevator ceiling.”
“Sit on your…okay, I can do that.” Fred is flustered at the suggestion but eager to comply. She and Wesley have worked well together since this whole thing started; this is just another task for them to tackle. Right?
However, getting her up isn’t quite so easy. She places both her legs over Wesley’s shoulders and the Englishman carefully stands up. He grasps her thighs to steady her and feels them trembling under his touch. “Fred?” Wesley is keenly aware of the warmth from her legs pressing against either side of his head and his voice shakes a little. He clears his throat and tries again. “Fred? Are you all right?”
She giggles nervously; the high-pitched sound a throwback to her early days at A.I., when she’d been too agoraphobic to step out of her room. “Never better. I’ve got my legs wrapped around your head like a pro wrestler about to flip his opponent. Why shouldn’t I be just great?” She giggles again.
Wesley’s lips twitch. “Yes, I suppose the situation is rather farcical. However, I, um, suggest we stick to the matter at hand.” He cranes his neck up, trying to focus past her supple breasts in the low-cut blouse. Thankfully he can’t see the tops of them only the curvy underneath. However, that is almost enough to undo his manly resolve. “Can you see the latch to the access panel?”
“Yes! Let me see if I can…reach…it…” She begins panting slightly with her exertions, her fingers scrabbling to find a purchase. The latch resists her efforts at first. Then, with no warning, it slides open and the panel drops down, nearly hitting her in the head.
“Oh!” She ducks and the abrupt motion causes her to lose her balance. Wesley staggers and falls to the floor with Fred sprawled on top of him. Because of her earlier position, their heads and legs are in opposite directions, her head pointed towards his feet, his head between her legs. The position is disturbing and Wesley can feel portions of his anatomy starting to react.
He rolls her off him carefully and shifts his legs, praying his burgeoning erection has gone unnoticed. “Fred? Are you all right?”
“I-I’m not sure. I think so.” She pulls away slightly, blushing furiously. Something hard had been stirring against her boobs just now and she had a pretty good idea what it was judging by the way Wesley was squirming. Fred stares at Wesley, biting her lip and rubbing idly at her leg.
“Fred? Is something wrong? Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself?” He reaches towards her leg only to flush and pull his hand back.
Fred notices the aborted movement. “Wesley, it’s just…” She draws a deep breath. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re trapped in an elevator, that’s—”
“Oh, stop it!” she snaps. “That’s not what I meant and you know it! This is the longest we’ve been alone together in weeks. Whenever I want to talk to you, you change the subject or run out of the room like I’ve got leprosy. I’m sick of it, Wesley, and I want to know why!”
The brunette is glaring at him and Wesley swallows hard. He doesn’t consider himself a timid man by any means, not after everything he’s been through with Angel and his team. But Fred’s aggression is cowing him and he’s having trouble ordering his thoughts. “Well, um, it’s just…” He bends his head. “I don’t know what it is, Fred. First you were infatuated with Angel. Then you were in love with Gunn. Your breakup with him—was not a happy one. In fact, the circumstances were horrific. Even though I aided and abetted you in your plan, I know it couldn’t have been an easy decision to come to.”
Wesley lifts his head. Fred is silent and impassive throughout this recital and he’s not certain what she’s thinking. He continues, sounding her out carefully. “When the professor was killed and things turned—sour between you and Charles, I couldn’t simply rush in and say, ‘Well, now that you two have called it quits, how about taking me instead?’ It would have been the height of crassness to force myself on you when you were in such emotional turmoil and there was a chance you and Gunn might…reconcile.”
“But that was weeks ago, Wes,” she protests. “Charles and I haven’t been together like that for ages. And, anyway, this isn’t about him. I want to know how you feel.”
“Why is it so important to you that you’d want to get into it now of all the times?” Wesley dodges.
“Because I’ve come to care about you, I guess, and every week has us facing near death all the time and I thought, ‘What would happen if something happened to Wes? How’d I feel about myself for never letting him know how I feel?’ “
“And—how is that exactly?”
Fred is getting pretty ticked off at Wesley’s refusal to commit himself. It must be tough on Englishwomen having to deal with typical male emotional distance and the stiff upper lippiness of Englishness on top of that. She sighs. Guess she’s going to have to make the first move.
Fred leans forward and captures his lips. Wesley doesn’t return the embrace at first, too stunned beyond words to react. Then his arms sweep out and pull Fred closer, pressing her body tight against his own. He’d given Cordelia an embrace like that once, and the reaction is the same. Fred gives a squeak against his lips and then molds her body to his.
His grip becomes tighter. Unconsciously the two recline backward until Fred is on the bottom, her lithe smaller body pressed against the elevator floor. Suddenly her hands are running over Wesley, tangling in his short hair, gripping his muscular lean shoulders, stroking slowly down his back to cup his butt. He’s not bulky in stature like Gunn but he possesses his own masculine strength, his form corded with muscle and hard in all the right places.
One of those hardnesses is digging into her thigh and she arches her hips slightly to feel it. Wesley responds, pressing more firmly against her, breathing in her scent. She’s flowery and musky at once, with an aroma he knows as honeysuckle although it’s not as powerful as the arousal he can scent just underneath it. Absently he wonders what she would smell like to a vampire with its keener-than-human senses. But he’s doing just fine with his merely human ones.
Suddenly Fred is struggling beneath him, her hands pushing at his shoulders. Wesley breaks the kiss, confused at her sudden resistance. “Fred, what is it? Am I going too fast?” he murmurs worriedly.
“No, silly. I want to be on top.”
The assertion is startling, at odds with the shy, retiring woman he’s known. Then again, time with A.I. has changed Fred a lot, too. He grins and reclines back on the floor, curious to see what she’ll do.
__________
“So how far do you think they’ve gotten?” Connor says.
“Pretty far, guessing by what I saw of her,” Lindsey drawls. “Never underestimate southern women, Connor.” Connor and Angel are in the front seat with Lindsey reclining in the back. It’s been awhile since he’s been in a car as comfy as this one. He’d forgotten the luxury of tooling around in a company car. Just one of the many perks he’d cast aside on his run from Wolfram & Hart.
Connor perks up at that statement. Talking about women was never dull. “Really? Are they different from girls in the north?”
“Well, southern women have had to survive the loss of their men folk in a civil war, slaves, and general all-around genteel living. People think of them as fragile little flowers but they’ve all got backbones of steel and a way of getting what they want out of a man,” Lindsey smirks.
“Lindsey, I don’t think this is appropriate conversation, considering where we’re heading,” Angel growls.
The other two grin at each other as if sharing a secret and Angel grinds his teeth. He’s Connor’s father; he should be discussing things like feminine wiles and the charms of women with him. But he can’t help but focus on the upcoming fight.
The last time Angel had faced Sahjahn, he’d gotten his ass royally kicked. Like a flashbulb snapping, he recalls with vivid clarity being on his back, staring helplessly upwards as the demon raised a shaft of wood over his chest. “Well, we all gotta go sometime,” had been the monster’s words just before being sucked into that urn. Hopefully, the end for that bastard would be tonight.
Angel glances at Connor still chatting animatedly with Lindsey in the back seat and thinks over what Vail told him. Vail had boasted about how he’d created Connor, built him as if the boy were nothing more than a grandiose library, complete with back-story, history files and the memories of a loving, tender family.
None of it was real but up until now Angel had been certain his part in all of it had been true. Now Lindsey comes butting in, putting his own spin on things and Angel wonders if maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as sure as he’s thought them to be.
He looks at them again, Connor’s head leaning back towards Lindsey as the small man regales him with some tale of mischief he’d gotten up to with a girl called Monica. Watching the two of them together, he sees what Fred and Mrs. Reilly saw. The resemblance between the two is uncanny and all at once his assurance falters.
He’s never smelled Lindsey on Darla but that means nothing. Lindsey swore that this Vail could alter the minds of demons; what if scent had been washed out of his memory? What if everything he thought he remembered about that night with Darla, her subsequent return and claim of him as the father was nothing but artfully constructed lies? How would he ever know?
But, no, that didn’t make any sense. He’d signed a contract in blood to join Wolfram & Hart as the head of the company and saving Connor had been the agreed-upon price. Or bribe, if you were going to be technical. So his memory would be the only one to remain intact.
Wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t put it past the Senior Partners to screw around with him, even if he was working under their aegis.
The vampire re-directs his eyes towards the road. The Orlon Window held the key to the mystery. Vail had held it up to him, taunting Angel with his ineffectuality to stop Vail from crushing it if he chose. If that happened, all the false memories would disappear, swamped under the return of the true events surrounding Connor’s birth. Angel would know the truth then. But so would the boy in the car with him.
Connor would remember every ugly, foul detail of his wretched short life: the time spent in the Quortoth, his rabid hatred of Angel, Holtz’s mysterious death, sinking his vampire father to the bottom of the ocean, his sexual manipulation by a demon-possessed Cordelia. Angel is sure not all of that could be fiction. It’s too awful for anyone to make up, even a demon.
His grip tightens on the wheel. No, the lie was better. He didn’t care what anybody said about the truth setting you free. The truths in Angel’s life have never made anybody happier or freer. Connor is better off where he is; even Lindsey’s life can’t be better than what the Reillys have to offer. He parks the car abruptly and growls, “We’re here, if anybody cares.”
Conversation halts as Connor and Lindsey stare out the window. “Whoa,” Connor breathes.
“Ditto,” Lindsey replies. He’d been to some fancy places in his tenure with Wolfram & Hart. The unusual services they provided to their clients meant they took on many very well-heeled patrons. But the mansion he was looking at rivaled anything he could recall seeing.
The place was huge, spanning six floors and stretching out for several hundred yards on either side, with what looked like two separate wings curving around to give the place a cubic “C” shape. Connor steps out of the car, followed by the vampire. “Man, will you look at this place? You could fit Stanford inside here. The rich really do know how to live.”
Angel goes through the opened gate and Connor follows. He stops when he realizes that it’s only the two of them. “Lindsey? Aren’t you coming? I thought you wanted to join the party.”
Lindsey doesn’t move. His gaze sweeps up to the gate and both vampire and teenager follow his look. There’s a security camera there and it swivels to follow the two of them. “I’m here as backup, remember? Maybe we should keep my being here a surprise,” he whispers, his lips barely moving.
“Oh yeah.” Connor turns from the camera. Now that he listens, he can hear the whirring noise it makes whenever it moves.
Angel, however, leaps up, grabs the device and rips it out of the structure. He smirks into the lens before crunching the camera between his hands. “Right. Let’s get this over with.”
They step inside the gates. One of them is hanging from its hinges and Connor is oddly reminded of the bathroom door he’d accidentally punched from its moorings in the W&H bathroom. He glances sideways at Angel. He knew the guy was strong but this display of muscle was kinda scary.
He steps in something slick and skids slightly. His arms flail as he struggles for balance and he looks downwards, lifting up one foot awkwardly. “Shit. What is this stuff?”
“Demon blood,” Angel replies absently. He glances at the faint smear left on the ground. “Guess they didn’t have a chance to clean it up properly since I was here earlier.”
“Ugh. Well, warn me if I’m about to step into any more of your messes,” Connor grimaces, wiping his boot on the ground.
“Too late,” Angel mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Angel can hear Lindsey stalking them from behind. The ex-lawyer is keeping pace with them but staying well behind. Angel isn’t certain what Lindsey thinks he can do from that distance. But as he told Wesley, he’s come to trust his former enemy. And he hopes that he and Lindsey can have a real talk when this is all over.
They reach the door after walking down the longest driveway he’s ever been on. Connor can’t hear Lindsey any longer and wonders where he could be. They step through the opened doors into the grand space before them. Connor pauses, his nose wrinkling, but Angel has no doubts about where they’re headed. He leads the way to Vail’s receiving room while Connor treads in his soundless way beside him.
Connor looks over the expensive furnishings. “This guy has got some fancy stuff, that’s for sure. But, dude, this place smells like a retirement home.”
“Connor…” Angel begins.
“Seriously. It’s got that old man stink.” Connor rubs at his nose; the smell is getting stronger. Then he stops as they step into the receiving room. Cyvus Vail is there, a yellow glowing cube nestled protectively in his hand. Connor is horrified at the sight of him, staring in open-mouthed shock. Whatever he was expecting of this Vail guy, he didn’t think it’d be as bad as this. “Lord, look at this guy. He looks like…”
“Shush.” Angel turns towards Vail. “Well, we’re here.”
Cyvus Vail’s appearance had surprised Angel a little. He hadn’t expected a demon. Then again, Lindsey had told him Vail kept himself hidden away. It wasn’t just that his appearance was definitely unhuman. The demon was ailing, IV tubes running from his body. Clearly decrepit and weakened by age and infirmity, his seclusion and the heavy squadron of armed muscle he kept around for protection made a lot of sense.
The red-faced creature walks with care and sinks gingerly into a chair; it’s obvious movement is difficult for him. “I’ve been expecting you. Thank you for being so quick.” Vail turns towards Connor. He squints a little as if appraising the young man. “You’re a lot smaller in person than I expected.” Vail tilts his head at Angel. “Are you sure he’s y—?”
Angel knows what he’s about to say and cuts him off. “We’re not here for idle chit chat, Vail. Just show us to the urn and let’s get this over with.”
“Such impatience. You’re certainly singing a different tune, I must say. Nice that you appreciate the urgency of the situation.” Vail smirks at him, the colorless eyes glittering with a mild malice.
A frown creases the teenager’s face. “I don’t get it, Angel. Why didn’t you say this guy was a demon? You guys kill demons, right? So why didn’t you just kill this shit after you totaled all his bodyguards? He doesn’t look like so much. I mean, Fred could take this guy.”
Vail doesn’t appear offended by Connor’s contemptuous dismissal. “He’s a feisty one, isn’t he? I can see why you’re so protective of him.” He clutches the cube tighter and Angel tenses. “If Angel or any of his team were to kill me, I have any number of associates who would follow through on my threat to kill you and your family. You have considerable strength, Connor. But your family members are merely human and Angel and his associates can’t protect them forever. Sooner or later, they would all die—and you would get to watch.”
Connor goes absolutely still. His blue eyes have turned to chips of ice. “So if I help you, you’ll leave my family alone?”
“Certainly. I have no interest in them or you—in spite of your obvious deviancy. Deal with Sahjahn and you and your family are safe from me.”
“Good. ‘Cause if you come near my family again or I find any of your demons hanging around, I’m going to take this sword and cut your head off. And it that doesn’t help to kill whatever kind of thing you are, I’m going to cut you into little pieces and see if that stops you.”
Once again, the threat leaves Vail unmoved. Indeed, he appears more amused than anything else. “Yes, he does have a fire to him. That’s good; he’ll need that ferocity of spirit if he’s going to survive going up against Sahjahn.” He strokes the cube as if it were nothing more than a yellow cat.
Connor eyes the object curiously. “What is that supposed to be? Your precious?”
Vail looks blank and then flicks a hooded glance at Angel. “Call it insurance.”
Connor unsheathes the sword, wanting to get away from this guy as soon as possible. “Fine. Let’s do this. Where is this Saget dude anyway?”
Vail gestures to his left. “Through there.” There is an open door leading to another room. Through the doorway, Connor sees a long table under a chandelier. Resting on the table is an assortment of weapons. Shoot, he might as well have left the sword back at the Wolfram & Hart office. There is also an urn, clayey and unremarkable looking, set next to the weapons. Guess that was it. Connor draws a deep breath and is about to step into the room when Angel pulls him back.
“Remember what I told you, Connor,” Angel says urgently.
Connor waves him away impatiently. Now that the moment is at hand, he’s anxious to get it over. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let him distract me.”
“And he’s tricky. Do not take your eyes off him even when he’s on the floor.”
“Dude! You’re creeping me out again. Geez, what are you, my father?”
Vail snorts and then wheezes hoarsely in laughter. Angel glares daggers at him and then straightens Connor’s collar. The kid flinches away from his touch. “Stop that. I don’t like people touching my neck, okay?”
Angel freezes then removes his hand slowly. Connor remembers. He doesn’t know how but somehow the teenager remembers their last fateful encounter. He settles for giving the blue-eyed youngster a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “Go get ‘im, champ.”
Connor walks into the room and eyes the various weapons on the table. Were any of them better for the task at hand than the sword he is wearing? He turns back to ask Angel a question and sees a blank wall where the door had once been. “Right. Guess I’m on my own then.” He picks up the urn and unscrews the lid.
Angel and Vail look on as Connor stares back at them uncertainly. Angel realizes from the unfocused way Connor doesn’t meet his gaze that he can’t see them. He steps forward only to meet with an unyielding surface. Angel runs his hand over the barrier he can feel but not see. “What is this?” he growls.
“We can hear and see him, Angel. But he can’t hear and see us and we can’t get to him. Settle in. He’s there for the duration.”
The vampire is furious. “What’s the point of this?”
“I want to make sure Sahjahn doesn’t get loose if the battle doesn’t go the way I hope,” Vail replies, one hand absently stroking the cube.
“Dammit, let me in there. I can help.”
Vail shrugs. “This isn’t your fight, Angel. There’s a prophecy to consider and that prophecy states only your son can kill Sahjahn.”
“The prophecy doesn’t say that he has to fight alone.” Silvery smoke is wafting out of the opened urn and Angel eyes the emanating vapor, dreading the moment when it will solidify.
If his heart had been beating, it would have thundering in his chest. He has begged for very few things in his existence. Giving up his humanity for Buffy, risking his existence for Darla in that futile trial can be counted among them. This moment would be added to the list.
Cyvus purses his lips in thought. “Hmmm. That’s a point, I suppose. But I don’t want to do anything to upset destiny. These things can be tricky; best not to meddle with it.”
The vampire turns towards him slowly. When he speaks again, all trace of feeling has left his voice. There is only a flat hint of danger that few have heard and lived to talk about afterwards. “Has it occurred to you that you’ve painted yourself into a very narrow corner?”
The demon’s attention wavers from the scene and fixes on Angel. “How so?” he asks placidly.
“If Connor lives, I’ve got no real guarantee that you won’t use this little cube of yours to coerce me in the future.”
“You have my word, Angel. I’ve done good work for the Senior Partners at Wolfram & Hart in the past and I wish that to continue. Just as you wouldn’t want me for an enemy, I’ve no wish to get into their bad graces. My association with them has been very good to me.” He gestures at the opulent wealth around him.
“That was with the old regime. I’ve just met you and I don’t like you.” The words are light, almost playful. If it weren’t for the stony look, it would have sounded as if Angel were talking about Cyvus’s taste in clothes.
The demon waves his hand as if Angel’s dislike isn’t his concern. “That’s of no consequence.”
“Oh, but it is. As the new head of Wolfram & Hart, I could decide to dispense with your services. It was mainly used for aiding and abetting criminals and that doesn’t sit too well with the way I run things now. So I can’t trust you to behave. And if Connor dies in there, then your little threat,” gesturing at the cube, “loses its value. So I’ve no reason to keep you alive either way.”
Cyvus stares at him. He’s very old and has outlived most of his enemies. But he’s heard of Angelus’s reputation and what he’s capable of. A feeling close to fear crawls into those pale eyes. He tries to stand and Angel shoves him back into his chair. Cyvus’s hands tighten reflexively on the cube.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Angel asks silkily. “The show’s just beginning.”

TBC
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- 7
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Choice and Consequences