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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
- 8
- 9
Lindsey is floundering in the darkness. He’s sinking into a thick velvet shroud, one that laps over his legs, his thighs, and his belly all the way up to his throat. He opens his mouth to speak and protest against the inky flood lapping against his body. The sensation is akin to drowning and primal instinct causes Lindsey to flail against it, fighting his way back towards the light.
Lindsey takes a breath and grimaces, moaning a little in pain. His throat hurts and he can’t remember why. He tries to swallow but that only increases the pain. He groans softly and then opens his eyes. The room is dark but that’s no real surprise. He’d turned off the light, after all. No, someone else had turned off the light. Who…?
“Lindsey?” That voice comes to him out of the shadows as it had so many times in the past and, for a moment, Lindsey wonders if he’s dreaming again. His name is repeated and so he turns his head and squints into the dim recesses of the room. In the faint light from the window, it is difficult to make out details and he doesn’t feel quite up to par for some reason. Then the body in the chair shifts and his vision snaps into clarity.
The vampire is there in a chair by the side of the bed, his legs crossed and his hands folded together. He is facing Lindsey and watching him intently and the mortal’s heart begins pounding in his chest. The memories of the sex they’ve just shared come sweeping over him. God, it was hot, better than he could have imagined, and tendrils of desire stir faintly. Best of all, Angel is still here. The vampire hasn’t left him this time.
But where is he? The rest of the room is bare but not his hotel room. The demon speaks to him again and he drags his attention back. Sorting out the mystery can wait. Having Angel close is all that matters.
“Lindsey. How do you feel? Are you okay?” The concern in Angel’s voice is touching but rather confusing. Why is he whispering? Is someone there, listening to them? Are they in danger from some unseen enemy?
Lindsey croaks, “Angel, where…?” He stops, surprised at how hoarse his voice is.
“You’re in the hospital, Lindsey. I had to bring you here. You lost a lot of blood.”
“I-I did?” He reaches up to brush the scar on his throat. It had been throbbing again, its usual response to Angel’s presence. But he winces as he touches it. The wound hurts from the pressure in a way it never has before and he whimpers before he can stop himself.
Angel reaches forward and clasps Lindsey’s hand. Lindsey sucks in a breath at feeling his own hand clasped in the vampire’s larger palm. It is a sweet touch, intimate and, at the same time, platonic like that of old friends grown comfortable with each other. “Angel. What happened? I remember we were making… I mean, fucking each other senseless. How’d I wind up here?” Damn, Lindsey didn’t mean to talk about making love. That’s what it felt like to him. But he’s not so far gone that he can admit that to Angel when he has no real assurance the vampire feels the same about him.
The brunette has heard Lindsey’s confession earlier but doesn’t call him on it now. He lifts the man’s hand and kisses the back gently. He can hear Lindsey’s heart beat just a little faster and runs it against his cheek before continuing to whisper. “I bit you and I took things a little too far. Don’t worry; I got you to the hospital in time and they gave you a transfusion. You should be fine and able to leave in a day or two.”
“T-that’s not like you, is it?” Lindsey probes.
“No. I haven’t bitten anyone in months. Not since you.”
Lindsey rasps, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His throat is so painful; it hurts to talk. Angel understands and pours a glass of water from a jug near the bed. Lindsey laps at the liquid gratefully before handing the glass back to Angel. “So what happened this time? Why’d you get so carried away?”
When Angel speaks again, he’s clearly amused. “You’d drunk a lot of tequila, Lindsey. It wound up in your bloodstream. Maybe it was the booze.”
“Yeah, right,” Lindsey retorts. “Seriously…”
Angel drops his hand and presses his fingers to his lips, cutting off his words. Lindsey’s mouth trembles against the pressure. It is too arousing to have any part of Angel touching him like this. Angel rubs his thumb over Lindsey’s mouth as if luxuriating in the feel of the plump lip. “Seriously, Lindsey. You need to regain your strength.” He waves his hand towards the closet. “I had your things brought here.”
“Did you bring my guitar?”
The vampire grins, white teeth flashing in the dimness. “Yeah. I’m kinda surprised you brought it with you. I thought this wasn’t a social call.”
Lindsey flushes. “Well, I was hoping to treat you to a song or two.”
“What, like a serenade? Or are we talking a recital?” Angel chuckles at his obvious embarrassment. “Who knows? You might get a second chance. As soon as you’re better, you can call me at Wolfram & Hart. Or better yet, come to see me. There may be a few surprises in store when you do.”
“Surprises? I don’t know if I can deal with any more surprises, Angel.” Lindsey presses on the thick pad he can feel on his throat.
He can just make out the patented Angel smirk. “Why not? I’ve had to and it’s never wise to surprise a vampire, Lindsey.” Before Lindsey can reply, the demon leans forward and kisses him softly. This embrace is oh so delicate, like Lindsey is a fragile piece of china that might break under pressure. Angel kisses him as if afraid of losing something infinitely precious. There is that odd sting behind his closed eyes again and Lindsey draws up one hand to stroke along the cool cheekbone near his to distract himself from tears.
Those sweet lips part from his; once again, it’s all Lindsey can do not to draw him back. The vampire stands and moves to the door. He turns towards Lindsey and smiles. Then he opens the door, the tall burly frame momentarily silhouetted by the hall lights. The door swings quietly shut and he disappears.
__________
Angel sits at the big table and impatiently waits for his team to join him. So far Spike is the only one to make it and he’s being his typically irritating self. The peroxided vampire leans back and props his booted feet on the long table. Popping open a brew, he guzzles it between a running commentary designed to drive Angel crazy.
“This girl was wild for me, all right. I don’t usually prefer blonds. Brunettes used to be more my thing. But I guess, since Buffy, my tastes have changed a bit.” There’s no reaction from Angel and Spike rattles on, digging deeper. “But this bent was really crazed. A real demon in the sack. You should have seen the mess we made. Turns out she had a liking for the kink, too. My kind of gal. Nothing like a Slayer, though. If I’d known that those Watcher birds were like that, I would have had me a bit of fun with the Chinese and New York birds before I killed them.”
Angel still isn’t answering. His grandsire has been distracted all morning. Or rather concentrated on something other than himself. Spike sniffs loudly. There is a weak smell on Peaches but nothing he can put his finger on. He smells of cheap booze and cheaper hotel room. But that’s just not Angel’s style. The poof likes his comfort, he does, and sleazing around in hotels isn’t his thing.
“Yeah, there’s nothing like sex to loosen out the knots. Too bad you can’t get that sort of action. Honestly, I don’t know how you stand it. Drive me crazy, it would. Although I hear that Lindsey is back in town. Maybe you could give him another go. I remember what a swell ride he was. Virgin ass all tight around my cock, moaning like a bint while I rogered him over that car. Hey, did the company ever get the dings out?”
He peers at Angel. Really, it was frustrating not being able to rile the bloke and Spike is running out of things to say in order to provoke him. If Buffy and Lindsey produce no response, then he’s fresh out of ideas. Bored and annoyed with Angel’s lack of response, Spike shifts to another topic. “So I hear there’s been a bit of excitement since I’ve been gone. Demon fighting and all that. Sounded like my kind of party.”
Angel still pays him no attention. He’d scrubbed himself repeatedly in order to get rid of any lingering scent of Lindsey. He’s not ashamed of what’s done, no sir. He wants to close his eyes and think of Lindsey. It’s the perfect way to shut out the demon running off at the lip behind him. But then Spike would just make some snarky comment about the lust-filled hormones filling the room and he can do without the distraction.
Spike’s jaw flexes in irritation and he starts to whine. “You know, I’m part of the team now, like it or not. Something goes down here, I deserve to know about it,” Spike protests. “I mean, I’m on the bloody payroll! Let me earn my keep around here.”
“We didn’t need you, Spike. As things turned out, we could handle things just fine without you.” Angel doesn’t care if Spike thought he was a contender for the gift of the Shanshu; Angel wishes to make it clear he is the boss, the one in charge, and Spike is strictly expendable.
“Who the hell are you to judge that?”
“The boss, that’s who,” Angel snaps.
Spike snorts. “Some bloody boss you are. I’m thinking this place could probably go on spinning without you, Peaches.”
“Well, it went on spinning without you last night… Hey, Wes. I’ve been waiting for you.” Angel squints at the sunlight playing on the courtyard. “You’re late. It’s past ten. Where have you been?”
Wesley flushes a little. He’s dressed with unusual care and he’s wearing a tie for the first time Angel can remember. “Well, hmmm, I got a bit of a late start this morning. Guess I forgot to set my alarm clock last night.”
Angel’s nose tells him differently but he decides not to call Wesley on his little fib. Spike is not so discreet. But, then, when is he ever? He sniffs in Wesley’s direction. “Really? Thought you and Twiggy were getting cozy with each other. ‘Bout time, too. Figured you were gonna wait until another apocalypse before you got around to shagging each other.” Wesley glares at him and Spike grins back, utterly unrepentant. “What? Like I couldn’t smell it? Plus you’ve got that ‘cat that ate the canary’ look plastered all over your mug so don’t deny it.”
Wesley pointedly ignores him as he turns to Angel. “So what is the news today? Did we get another case since last night? Speaking of which, how are the Reillys?”
“They were fine. The husband insisted on leaving; I guess being cooped up made him a little antsy.”
“That, or being worked over by our unique, ahem, surgeons,” Wesley murmurs.
Spike’s brow wrinkles. “Who are the Reillys?”
Fred bounces in then. “Oh, hi guys! Is everybody here?” Wesley moves to pull out a chair for her and then stops and ostentatiously sits in a chair a few feet away.
“Not yet, Fred,” Angel answers. “We’re still waiting for Lorne and Gunn.”
“Oh, right. So how did the Reillys make out?”
“They’re fine. They headed back home early this morning. Connor was a little banged up from fighting Sahjahn. But he recovered completely. There isn’t so much as a scratch on him.”
“That’s great. That’s really great.”
There is an awkward pause and the English vampire frowns, sensing something going on other than an interoffice sexual affair between Giles 2 and Twiggy. Angel spoke with an unwarranted pride about that Connor boy, whoever he is, and Spike noted it, wondering what the hell is up with his grandsire. “What’s all this then? Who are the Reillys?” he demands again.
Gunn comes striding in, humming the opening chorus from The Pirates of Penzance. He lifts his briefcase and sets it carefully on the table. “Yo, Wes. Fred. Angel. Heard we had a little excitement last night.”
“Well, Angel had the excitement. We got locked in an elevator,” Fred begins.
Spike laughs out loud. “You two did it in an elevator? Damn, didn’t think you had it in you, Weaselly.”
Gunn’s eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead. “In an elevator? Kinky.”
Fred eyes him uncertainly. “Y-you’re not upset? I mean, you’re okay with this?”
“Sure. Why not?” He turns back towards Angel. “So what’s this about excitement? Unless the Glenn Close/Michael Douglas re-enactment was it?”
“I’d rather wait until Lorne gets here,” Angel remarks with a touch of asperity. “I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”
“Yeah, his tales do get a bit long-winded. Best we only hear it the once. Spare us all the boredom of a repeat performance,” Spike comments with an exaggerated yawn.
Angel doesn’t bother to look at Spike. He’s too anxious about how his team will take the story he has to tell them to concern himself much about the other vampire. The rest of his team seat themselves and converse in low voices as they all wait for Lorne.
The Pylean demon strolls in moments later, clad in an iridescent jacket and pants set of lemon yellow with a cerise shirt and purple tie. He waves at the room. “Hello, guys and dolls! I had a fabulous time last night. I was at this new club that opened. Gorgeous place, the kind you don’t see any more. It had this Art Deco look and feel with a piano on the stage and this guy tinkling the ivories who really knew what he was doing. It reminded me of the good old days.” He sighs in reminiscence and seats himself at the table, loosening his jacket. “Sooo. What’s on the agenda today?”
“Nothing really important. I-I just had to tell you all something about the Reillys.”
“Who the fuck are the Reillys?” Spike barks, out of patience now.
“That’s what I’d like to know. Are they new clients?” Lorne chimes in, reddened eyes fastened on the vampire.
Angel struggles for a moment and then grins. Spike has been annoying him all morning although he’s hidden it very well. Now it’s his turn to take a swipe at him. He opens his mouth and begins to sing “Copacabana.”
At the first few rounds, the others start gaping at him before pained grimaces fly on to Wesley and Gunn’s faces. Fred blinks and then begins giggling hysterically. She’s no great singer herself but she’s never heard Angel sing before and his efforts strike her as absolutely hilarious.
Spike’s reaction is completely different. He claps his hands over his ears, bangs his head on the table and then leaps up in exaggerated anguish. “Bloody hell! That’s what he got us all here for?! A bloody Manilow recital? That’s it. He’s gone starkers. I’m getting out of here and getting myself a blood cappuccino. I don’t have to listen to this.”
He snatches up his beer and runs out of the room like his boots are on fire. Gunn and Wesley look after him with wistful glances as if they’d like nothing better than to follow him.
Lorne gets a glazed look in his eyes as if his ears are bleeding. Then the red eyes widen and he stares at Angel in shock as he picks up the vampire’s hidden thoughts. “Oh, my stars and garters! Angel, you’ve been a bad little vamp, haven’t you?”
Fred claps with girlish glee when Angel finishes. “What? It wasn’t so bad. I’m not a Manilow fan but I’ve heard worse.”
Angel shakes his head. “That’s not what he’s talking about, Fred. I did something when I joined Wolfram & Hart. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. Now I’m not so sure. In any case, I swore to myself last night that I’d tell you all at the first opportunity.”
He takes an unnecessary breath. “It started when Darla came back to L.A…”
__________
Lindsey pauses as he leans against the elevator paneling. Angel isn’t expecting him for another day or so. But the doctors were pleased with Lindsey’s recovery if a little buffaloed by it. A man who’d been down almost four quarts of blood shouldn’t have been able to get out of bed the next morning. But he had and walked up and down the corridor twice in order to convince them he was well enough to leave. Thank God for demon strength.
However, it’s clear once he comes into the lower garage that it’s mainly adrenalin and the thought of seeing Angel again that are fueling him. Once the excitement fades, fatigue claims the ex-lawyer and he worries he’ll pass out before seeing the vampire again. He leans back against the elevator and closes his eyes, rallying his strength.
Once the doors open at the designated floor, Lindsey steps out shakily. But his scar has come alive once more, the throbbing pulling him unerringly in the direction he needs to go. He pauses outside the meeting room door. Wolfram & Hart understand the value of maintaining privacy; it’s solidly built and he can’t make out a single word. He can detect—just barely—the rising and falling cadence of Angel’s voice and the shocked outcries from the others. What can Angel be telling them that’s got them so fired up?
He rests his hand on the doorknob and pauses. Should he just walk in? Angel had invited him to come see him. Yeah, but that was in a day or two. He’s not certain the others would be so pleased to see him. Gunn, like Wesley, would have no fond memories of the former lawyer and he’s not certain Angel has enlightened him.
He lets his hand fall away, assailed by all the old doubts. Angel had nearly killed him last night and confessed that being around Lindsey was enough to make him lose control. But that’s hardly the same as an avowal of love or even affection. Any vampire might have made the same mistake. Still—Angel is hardly any vampire and most bloodsuckers would have drained him dry.
None of this tells him whether his status has changed. Has Angel come clean about him to his people? Or is he still the vampire’s slutty little secret?
Without warning, the door is yanked open. The vampire stands in the opened doorway, wearing his customary black, the sunlight once more outlining his husky form. “Lindsey. Are you coming in or are you going to stand there listening at the door all day?”
Fred starts up. “Mr. McDonald?”
Wesley peers narrowly at the two men in the doorway. Lindsey’s appearance has interrupted them at a crucial juncture in the fantastic story Angel’s revealed to them but now the ex-Watcher isn’t so sorry to see him. In spite of Angel’s revelation about Connor’s true status as his son, he thinks the young man staring up at the vampire could add a thing or two to the tale. “Mr. McDonald, Angel has told us a startling story.”
Lindsey smiles faintly. “Is this the one about two Mexicans walking into a bar? Because I’ve heard that one.”
Gunn lets out a snort while Lorne chuckles out loud. “Oh, it’s good to hear a great joke. That’s what we really need around here, kiddies! It gets far too solemn and tense in this place sometimes.” The red-eyed Pylean perhaps is the only one who truly appreciated what a great singer Lindsey was; he’d missed him at Caritas when the man’s right hand had been cut off and reveled in his return to the stage. Other than Angel, he’s the only one truly delighted to see him now.
Lindsey pulls back slightly. “Angel, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just going.”
Angel’s face falls. “You were? But I was just about to tell them about your hospital stay.”
The Texan woman sits upright, alarmed at this news. “Mr. McDonald was in the hospital? Why? I thought you told me over the phone that he wasn’t hurt. Did something happen after I talked to you?”
Something happened, all right. Lindsey just doesn’t think he can mention it in mixed company. He shrugs off her concern. “It’s not all that riveting a story. I wasn’t even there for long.”
“I can see that. Are you sure you should be out so early? Come in and sit down. Let me order you something to eat.” Angel flips open his cell and makes a series of low-voiced commands.
“Yo, Angel? What’s this about this guy being in the hospital?” Gunn demands.
“And why should we care?” Wesley adds.
Angel rests his hand on Lindsey’s elbow. The man is ashen under his tan and he hates that he’s responsible for it. He speaks over his shoulder to Wesley, “We should care because it’s my fault.”
Lindsey glances at him sharply. “Angel, give it a rest, will ya? All this guilt-tripping of yours gets old.”
Lorne throws up his hands. “I say that all the time! The man needs to lighten up. But does he ever listen to me?”
The vampire rubs his hand in slow circles around Lindsey’s back. The touch is soothing and stirring. But Lindsey can see the surprise in Angel’s crew. However, the dark-haired demon maintains contact with him as he speaks. “I bit him last night. While we were together.”
The shock sweeping through the room is immediate, although it has different effects. “You bit him?” Wesley exclaims.
“Together?” Fred squeaks. “As in together together?”
Lorne shrugs. “What’s the big deal? It’s about time. I figured he should get a little fun in his unlife. Again, does he ever listen to me? By the way, congratulations, you two.”
Gunn is more concerned with the more practical aspects. “Angel, I don’t want to get too personal or nothing. But I thought you couldn’t get frisky with nobody without, you know, the soul losing.” He pauses, studying the vampire through narrowed eyes. “You didn’t lose it, did you?”
“Obviously not. I’ve read about what Angelus is capable of. Trust me. If you were in the room with him, you’d all be dead by now.” Glad that everything is in the open, Lindsey lets himself be pulled in to the room. Truth be told, he is starving. It was stupid to come straight from the hospital to the offices without getting something to eat first. But now that Angel’s mentioned food, his stomach starts to rumble and he sits down at the table. “It’s all right with the others, I’d like to get a little chow. I kinda skipped breakfast.”
“Of course it is!” Fred exclaims. She leans towards Lindsey, watching him avidly. “Angel has been telling us about you and the visions.”
Gunn interrupts her. “Gotta tell ya. I found it hard to believe. I can’t imagine anyone deciding to buy psychic visions. I remember how much they hurt Cordelia.”
Lindsey starts to speak and then pauses as someone comes in with the breakfast tray. He loads bagels, croissants, hot coffee, cream cheese and orange juice on the tray and waits until the server leaves before speaking to the room at large. “Believe it. The visions are real. Given what I paid for them, they’d have to be.”
Fred looks at him with sympathy. “But isn’t it really dangerous?”
Lindsey takes a bite of a croissant and chews slowly, weighing his answer. He’s gone over this with Angel; he really doesn’t want to get into it with the others. But the vampire is gracing him with one of those loving looks and that cool hand is still pressing firmly against his back. “I’ve learned to cope. And it’s really no—”
The vision strikes and takes them all completely by surprise. He hisses and presses his hand against his forehead before gesticulating at Wesley. “Wesley! The pad!”
For one stunned moment, Wesley doesn’t move. When the instructions are barked out again, the ex-Watcher scrambles for pen and paper as instructions are gritted out between clenched teeth. “There’s a family of Trisk demons in an underground sewer system in Bel Aire. The gas company is going to send some men to investigate a power outage. They disturb the nest and they start to swarm.” He shakes his head, rubbing at his temples. “Shit! That really hurts!”
Lindsey stares in horror at Angel as the vampire slumps in a nearby chair, resting his wide forehead in his hands. “Angel? What did you do?”
Angel lifts his head to smile wanly at his lover. “What I had to.”
“You’ve got my visions,” Lindsey whispers.
“He did WHAT?!” Fred yells.
Angel winces. “Keep it down, will you, Fred? Vampire hearing more than a little sensitive right now. Does anybody have an aspirin?”
“Angel, how could this happen?” That demand comes from Wesley before he rounds on Lindsey. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Lindsey shakes his head in negation as he shoves aside his food. He shifts his chair closer to the vampire and wraps his arm around one sturdy shoulder. “God, Angel. What—how…?”
Angel lays one broad hand over the warmer one stroking his arm. “You told me yourself, Lindsey. You got these visions for me, because of me. And they were killing you just as they were killing Cordelia. I know this for a fact, so don’t deny it.”
“The visions were killing him?” Wesley eyes the two men. The concern and tenderness they feel for each other is palpable; it’s as if there is no one else in the room. He hasn’t seen Angel this wrapped up in anyone since the demon left Sunnydale.
“They were. And Lindsey told me he couldn’t get rid of them unless he was dead or dying.”
Lindsey freezes, his hand arrested in its movement on Angel’s arm. “That’s why you bit me. You wanted to push me close to death so you could steal my visions,” he realizes.
Angel nods and reaches for the Lindsey only to have the southerner swat away his hands. “Lindsey, please. You have to understand! You were bleeding last night, for goodness sakes! And without a demon inside you to withstand the visions, you would have eventually died.”
Lindsey is barely listening. The blue eyes are snapping in fury; Angel starts babbling in order to forestall his rage. “That’s what was happening to Cordelia, Lindsey. She was dying from her visions. So she agreed to take an aspect of a demon inside her. But it went wrong, somehow, it changed her, made her ripe for corruption. She left us and, when she came back, she wasn’t Cordelia any longer. There was a monster inside her, using her to deceive my people, seduce my son and destroy the world. I couldn’t let that happen to you and I couldn’t let you die. My options were extremely limited. So, yes, I took your visions. I’m a demon. I can bear them; you can’t.”
Lindsey stands at the window, his jaw working. “Why didn’t you ask me first?”
“That’s not Angel’s way, Lindsey,” Wesley remarks in bitter, dry tones. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? He does whatever the hell he likes and we’re expected to fall into line; everyone else’s opinions be damned.”
“I wouldn’t point fingers if I were you, Wesley,” Angel growls. “You saw Holtz twice behind my back, lied to your people, attacked Lorne and stole my son. You didn’t exactly consult with anyone else when you did all that, did you?” Wesley flushes with guilt and his eyes drop away from Angel’s.
Then the demon sighs needlessly, still rubbing his forehead. “What, am I going to have to get those damn pills myself?!” he growls.
Lindsey belatedly reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little bottle that is always with him. He tosses it to Angel. “Better get used to them,” he sighs. “They hurt like a sonuvabitch.”
“I can deal,” Angel mutters as he screws off the lid. “I’ve had to handle worse than a few headaches.” The thoughts of the trial he undertook to save Darla whisper across his mind. He hasn’t told the others the ordeal he went through to save her. It is too raw, painful and private to share even with Lindsey.
Lindsey considers the turn things have taken. “So what happens now?” he asks. “What am I supposed to do without my visions to help you?”
Angel regards him anxiously. “I know we didn’t have a chance to discuss it last night…”
“No, not with the blood draining and all that,” Lindsey drawls.
“But I was hoping you could stay. Here in Los Angeles. With us. You can always continue your singing career here. And you still have demon strength.”
Hope swells in Lindsey’s eyes, so bright and desperate it almost hurts to look into them. “You want me to stay?
“Really? That’s great! We could always use another fighter. Any help is welcome for those who help the helpless,” Fred chirps happily.
Angel turns to Wesley and Lorne. “How about it? I know things have been rough between us and Lindsey in the past. But I was hoping we could start afresh.”
“You’re actually asking us? That’s a switch,” Gunn points out.
“Why don’t we put it to a vote?” Wesley demands. “All in favor say ‘Aye’ and raise your hands.” Angel, Lorne and Fred all lift their hands, the demon with an obvious eagerness. “All those against say ‘Nay’ and raise your hands.” Gunn and he lift their hands.
“Shouldn’t we call in Spike on this? He’s a member of the team, ain’t he?” Gunn demands.
Angel scowls. “Spike would vote no just to tick me off. He can’t be trusted.”
“I think he’s more than proved his trustworthiness,” Wesley states.
“And so has Lindsey,” Angel retorts stubbornly.
Fred waves her hands in a peacemaking gesture. “Wait a minute! Why don’t we have Lindsey sing? If Lorne says he’s okay, will that convince you, Wes? I mean, Angel may be biased. But you trust Lorne, don’t you?”
Wesley locks gazes with Fred. She’s made it clear where she stands on the Lindsey issue. She’s anxious for him to be on board with her. She’s obviously giving him a chance to revise his opinion without looking like he’s copping out. He nods shortly. “Very well. I suppose that counts as a fair test.”
Lindsey hesitates. He’d wanted to sing for Angel eventually. But he’d hoped it would be someplace more private. Damn, he should have done it last night somewhere between Angel’s confession and the steamy sex. He tries to evade the situation. “Well, I left my guitar in the rental car and my singing really sounds better with it.”
Lorne flicks a hand in dismissal. “It’s all right, sugarlips. This isn’t a job audition.”
“Actually, it kinda is,” Gunn points out.
“Well, we can make allowances, can’t we? Go ahead. Hit us with your best shot,” the green-skinned demon says. He tilts back in his chair, avid crimson eyes trained on the southern singer leaning against the window.
Lindsey closes his eyes, mentally skimming through his repertoire. He latches on a song, one that captures all his feelings of the last few days. Before he can change his mind, he begins crooning softly, his rich tenor filling the room.
“I guess I oughta tell you what’s been going on
Well I’ve been chasing dreams for everyone but me
When your heart is filled with misery
It’s hard to find the energy.
To remember just how much he means to me.
Well I keep everything inside so long till it burns
Everybody stokes the fire and the walls get a little higher.
I light the candle at both ends
And I hit the gas, the wheels start to spin
But he’s always there to catch me when I fall
‘Cause I’ve been hell on wheels for days now
There ain’t a shade of red I can’t paint
When the lights go down, he always helps me to see.
In the darkness a day will come
Another light for you to lean upon
But until then maybe your heart
Can rest in mine.
I just can’t get the hang of hanging on
Every time I try to grab it, the will is gone.
When he looks into my eyes
He sees a man he used to recognize
And not the stranger trying to go it all alone.
Maybe someday I’ll see exactly what he sees in me.
Maybe someday I’ll be exactly who he wants me to be.
Maybe someday I’ll have the strength to run into the man that I once was
But right now I think I’ll walk into a crawl.
‘Cause I’ve been hell on wheels for days now
There ain’t a shade of red I can’t paint
When the lights go down, he always helps me to see.
In the darkness a day will come
Another light for you to lean upon
But until then maybe your heart
Can rest in mine.”
The song fades into the air and is met with silence. Lindsey opens his eyes to see the rest of the room staring at him with varying degrees of awe and surprise. Fred is the first to break the quiet.
“Wow! This is what he sings like? Geez, no wonder you fell for him, Angel,” she exclaims, her voice filled with the kind of girlish glee he’s used to getting from his adoring fans.
If a vampire could blush, he’s sure Angel would be as red as a stoplight. “Actually, I didn’t think much of him the first time I heard it. Country music’s not my thing.”
“No, I suppose not, what with you being a fan of the power ballads,” Lorne muses. “Lindsey, you already know what I think of your singing. It used to be the highlight of karaoke night having that golden throat of yours warbling away in Caritas. Seriously, if you’ll let old Lorne here help, I can get you an audience with Travis Tritt. I think we’ve got him on our client file list somewhere.”
“That’s all fascinating. But we’re not here to assess Lindsey’s singing abilities. This isn’t ‘American Idol’,” Wesley cuts in. He’s heard Lindsey sing before and he was suitably impressed at the time, in spite of the fact that Lindsey’s involvement with Wolfram & Hart had put the Englishman in the hospital. So he pushes down that admiration as he frowns in Lorne’s direction. “Well? What does our resident soul reader have to say?”
“Oh, he’s definitely batting for our team now. Which is a relief. I used to wonder why it was that all the good singers were firmly on the dark side while the folks on the side of the angels sang like cats being beaten to death in a sack. No pun intended, Angelface.”
Lindsey smirks. “Angelface?”
Angel blusters on. “So we’re all in agreement now? Lindsey can stay?”
Gunn shrugs. “Hell, yeah. If Lorne says he’s okay, then I’m down with him.”
Wesley adds, “In the interest of fairness, I’m willing to change my previous vote.”
Angel grins, the expression so different from his usual somber exterior the others stare at him. He pays them no mind as he walks to where Lindsey leans against the necro-tempered pane. “You hear that, Lindsey? You’re one of the team. Welcome aboard.”
Lindsey looks up into that handsome face staring keenly into his and unconsciously leans his body closer to Angel’s. “You’re sure about this? I mean, I’m not exactly sorry to be leaving Oklahoma again; it hasn’t felt like home for a long time. But I can’t keep shuttling back and forth, in and out of your life.”
“I’m sure, Lindsey.” The voice has lowered ‘til Lindsey is sure he is the only one who can hear it and Angel has drifted closer as well. He’s close enough to kiss and Lindsey is certain only the throat-clearing from Wesley prevents an embarrassing display.
“Well, since that seems to be all sorted out, shall we get someone on this latest vision? I know it’s not until tomorrow but perhaps we can make the appropriate calls and forestall the presence of those workers from the area until we’ve flushed out those pesky Trisks.”
Angel moves away from Lindsey, his face impassive once more. If not for the recent attentions, Lindsey would think the demon has put him out of his mind. However, he understands Angel’s mood shifts now. The vampire isn’t forgetting him; he’s simply turning his concentration to the business at hand. Lindsey is sure that when things settle down again, the vampire will give him his undivided attention.
At the thought of what form those attentions will likely take, Lindsey smiles secretly to himself. Catching a flash from Angel’s eyes, he sees awareness of his thought flaring in the other’s gaze. Then he turns back to the table as Lindsey leans beside him, the voices of Angel’s team rising in low murmurs as they discuss the vision.
Lindsey’s right hand (evil hand!) snakes quietly behind Angel’s back and he breathes in the vampire’s unique scent. He thinks about this new place in Angel’s life. It won’t be easy; some of the clients might have a problem. And there’s still his music career to consider… Then again, he can sense a new song in the offing as he presses his hand harder upon the demon’s back.

Finis
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Choice and Consequences