God damnit. Damn. Fuck. Crap. This case was so… noble. He was doing it pro bono. As if he could afford charity since he’d left LA. His former employers had made sure of that, cleaning out everything save his basic savings account insuring he had enough to leave the state, but not enough to give him the easy life he’d joined them to acquire in the first place. He’d been doing well, exactly according to plan until him, LA’s very own dark avenger: Angel. Bastard.

 

From the moment he’d laid eyes on him in that boardroom the countdown had begun to the end of life, as the young lawyer had known it. He had been doomed. OK, so point of fact he had been doomed from the moment he had met Holland Manners, but at least that had been a damning of his own choosing. Always under a steely self-control, he had handled his affairs efficiently, steadily climbing the corporate ladder at Wolfram and Hart, until the dramatic appearance of the powers’ new champion. Angel had simultaneously boosted and torpedoed his career from that point on.

 

Then of course there was the Darla factor. Best not to think about her. Best forget her creamy skin and silken hair, and that little inane laugh she had used to bestow upon him when he said or did something so asinine that she would become amused despite her best intentions. That laugh was gone now, replaced by a sneer and a snort more befitting the creature she had become once again. She was his dark goddess, but cared only for his mortal enemy. She cared only to torture Angel. She wanted to mold his back into the perfect lover she had once created in her own image. The firm had seen to it that she had help, a lot of help.

 

In recompense she and her grandchilde turned sire had turned the wine tasting in Holland’s cellar into a bloodbath. His hand reached unconsciously for the set of small twin scars on his throat just bellow his jugular. I can’t seem to care. Angel’s words echoed through his mind. He remembered the empty look on Angel’s face. The vampire had looked right through him, through them all. They were insignificant to him sub-human.

 

After spending hours watching his co-workers die one gruesome death followed bye one yet worse; Lindsey Mac Donald had left with a sense of trilled jubilation. She had spared him. She had drunk from him yes, but he had still lived. His love, his obsession had spared him. His lady had still had plans for him. The next morning the world came crashing down as Lila Morgan had sauntered into his office. Darla’s cruel words and mocking laughter still dug at him.

 

Angel was sorry! Sorry he didn’t try harder to help him. The slightest bit would have been harder. He hated that stupid spoiled drunken Irish bastard. He’d never had to work a day in his life. He had been given eternal youth and power, and the devotion of the woman the young lawyer desired above all others. Lindsey had bent over backwards to win her love. He’d restored her immortality, when soul-boy jealously hoarded it away prepared to sit back and watch her die. All Liam had done to win her love was stumble out into a dark alley three sheets to the wind. She had mocked Lindsey’s love for her, yet when she came to him he still took her in. His Darla had still gone to Angel. After her former childe had cruelly rebuffed her, Lindsey had defended her honor. What had it gotten him? A beating, a broken truck and an empty apartment, that had been his consolation prize. I’m sorry that she’ll never love you.

 

If looks could kill Lorne would have been incinerated when he told Angel and Lindsey that they would need to work together. Lindsey had had an Ally McBeal moment slicing the green singing demon’s head off with an imaginary saber. 48 Hours his hick ass. Of course one had to make certain concessions when one had an evil hand. It didn’t act out so much anymore. It hadn’t since Lindsey had pulled the plug on it’s previous owner, putting an end to the mailroom worker’s suffering. He was pretty sure the distance he’d put between himself and the firm had not been detrimental either.

 

He had been giddy at first from the sudden new freedom. He’d walked on air for the first couple of months after leaving LA, Angel’s juvenile little goodbye note not withstanding. Cops suck. Lindsey found himself having to suppress a chuckle. Angel was an immature prick, but even the 150$ speeding ticket Lindsey had gotten had not put a downer on his spirits. That had come upon discovering that he was basically tapped out. Reality had come crashing back down around him.

 

He had his truck, some clothing mainly jeans and casual wear, his guitar and just enough cash for a down payment on a decent apartment and living expenses for a year maybe two if he was very careful. He had no job and no prospects. It certainly was not as if he could ask his previous employers for a reference or a letter of recommendation. He had nowhere near enough money to start up his own practice. He did not want to go back to singing to drunken losers who either didn’t care he was there or wished he had tits. He did not even want to think about the other things he had done just to get by while he was in college, but he knew he would never go back to that. He’d wash dishes or deliver pizzas if he had to.

 

Luckily he had not had to. He’d met Randall a few weeks later on his way out of a dismal interview with another potential firm. Wolfram and Hart’s reach extended far beyond their LA offices. Lindsey of course could not explain why he had left his old job so suddenly. He had been bound in the firm’s web since he was in pre-law. He had quickly been realizing that he’d given them not only his soul, but his future as well. He’d dejectedly walked out of the tastefully appointed lobby into the overly silent elevator. Slumping against the side of the car he had not even looked up as an elderly man had reached out halting the doors mid close. As the doors slid back open the stately gentleman had strode into the elevator carrying a worn leather briefcase. He had glanced over to Lindsey arching an eyebrow.

 

“That bad son?”

 

Lindsey had just grunted. He has been in no mood to entertain some probably senile old coot.

 

“Is you lawyering better than your attitude?” the old fossil and asked casually.” Or is it just the arrogant piss off personality that’s stopping you from getting work?” he’d went on when Lindsey had not deigned answer him.

 

“What?” Lindsey had demanded. The last thing he had needed at that moment was some total stranger insulting him.

 

“Do you have any aptitude as a lawyer? Is it just the fact that you’re an arrogant little nincompoop with an overblown opinion of himself that’s keeping you from being hired or are you incompetent too?” the old man had asked as the doors slid open. “Well? I don’t have all day?” he had demanded has he walked out into the parking garage.

 

“I’m a good lawyer,” Lindsey had whispered.

 

“Thought so. You have trial experience?” the older man had asked. Lindsey had just nodded dumbly. “Criminal or Litigation?”

 

“Both, sir” he had answered a little bewildered.

 

“Hum. Alright be at this address at 9 AM sharp, and bring breakfast,” the man had said handing the bewildered lawyer his card and walking briskly away without further comment. Lindsey could remember staring down at the neat gold embossed lettering on the card.

 

Randall Thorton-James III, barrister and solicitor

Thorton James and Associates Attorneys at law

 

That’s how he’d found himself standing in front of an old three story office building holding a bag of muffins and two coffees the next morning. He had walked into the building and made his way to the receptionist, a rather spindly African American woman wearing an outdated, but impeccably pressed blue Pokka-dot dress.

 

“May I help you son?” she had asked in a raspy voice.

 

“I have an appointment with Mister Thorton-James,” Lindsey had answered.

 

“Ma’am,” She had added frowning.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“When I was young you called your elders sir or ma’am as the case may be,” she instructed crisply in the manner of an old fashion schoolteacher.

 

“Yes ma’am,” he had forced himself to reply. This place is demented, this is a bad idea, he had thought. He had watched her pick up the phone and dial an extension.”

 

“Mister Thorton-James there’s a rude young person here to see you,” she had announced, not a foot away said person. He had just stood there mouth agape. She had paused listening to the reply. “Yes sir, he appears to have some coffee and a white paper bag,” she had confirmed glancing at Lindsey with disapproval. “Yes sir, your most welcome sir,” she had finished before placing the receiver back on its cradle.

 

“Mister Thorton-James will see you now. Second floor; last door on the right. Please knock and go in,” she had instructed, looking as though she doubted his competency to do so.

 

“Um… thanks… Ma’am,” Lindsey had replied making his way up the stairs to the sound of a disapproving sniff. He had walked down the waxed but worn wood flooring towards his destination. Awkwardly holding his briefcase and breakfast in his left hand, he had raised his evil hand to the glass and rapped.

 

“Come in son,” the voice from the previous day had beckoned. Randall Thorton-James had been sitting behind a rather large mahogany desk and a white china plate.

 

“Please, do sit down son,” he had said, pointing a chubby finger at one of the overstuffed leather chairs in front of his desk. “What did you bring?” Randall had asked as Lindsey sat down. There was also a plate in front of Lindsey’s chair.

 

“Um… Muffins and um… coffee, sir,” Lindsey had answered berating himself as he handed over a coffee and the muffins. Way to go Lindsey, you’re trying to get a job, as an attorney, by proving you can’t speak in coherent sentences. He had not been able to help it; this place was just weird. He couldn’t believe he could still think that after W&H.

 

“Bless you son, Miss Elmira is a Fine office manager, but her coffee tastes like stale motor oil on its best days. Eat up. I never make decisions on an empty stomach. What did you do to set Miss Elli off like that anyway? I’d hoped you’d grown some sense since yesterday afternoon,” Randall had asked.

 

“Um… I didn’t call her Ma’am, Mister Thorton-James,” the young lawyer had replied, feeling like he was sitting before his grade school principal.

 

“That’ll do it,” he had replied taking a bite out of a bran-raisin muffin. “Why did you become a lawyer?” the senior lawyer had asked between bites.

 

“It seemed like a challenging career and I’ve always been fascinated by the inner workings of our judicial system…” he had begun, pontificating the usual law school fraudulent answer. Why did anyone become a lawyer? Was it to achieve world peace?

 

“Please no fecal matter. I’m eating. Why did you become a lawyer,” Randall had asked his gray eyes boring through Lindsey. The young man’s skin had crawled with the contempt he felt in that gaze.

 

All right, Lindsey had thought, honesty. Fine. “Money. I became a lawyer for the money. It’s a lucrative profession and I’m not quite intelligent enough for brain surgery.” Lindsey had cringed as he heard his long suppressed accent work it’s way into the conversation. What had it mattered anyway? He had been in the middle of nowhere.

 

“Why not just rob banks?” Randall had asked.

 

“I did worse at my old firm,” Lindsey had answered levelly.

 

“I see is that why you were let go?” Randall had asked thought Lindsey had been and was still convinced he had already known the answer.

 

“No that’s why I left,” Lindsey had stated calmly.

 

“Good” Randall had replied. “I’m guessing I can’t offer you anything near your old salary, but I’m thinking if that was your only consideration you’d still be at your old firm. I’m sure we can work something out. By the way, I never got your name.”

 

“What do you mean? I thought you’d gotten it from someone at Wice, Preston and Manning,” Lindsey exclaimed. “How did you even know I was a lawyer? How did you know I was looking for work? How did you know I wasn’t just taking a deposition or meeting with opposing counsel? I should have known. You work for them don’t you? Just leave me the fuck alone. I won’t say anything to anyone. It’s not like anyone would believe me anyhow. I talk and I end up in jail or a padded room, I’m well aware of that.”

 

“If I had all this secret knowledge about you I wouldn’t have had to ask for your name now would I? Whomever you were working for sound pretty awful. I can understand why you would give it all up,” the older man soothed.

 

“How did you now why I was at Wice, Preston and Manning then?” the nervous young man asked running his right hand through his sworn hair.

 

“Your suit,” Thorton-James had responded candidly.

 

“My suit?” Lindsey asked incredulous.

 

“Looked like an interview suit, neat, well made, but not too flashy. It was conservative like their firm and it looked like you had just put it on, rather than had worn it all day. You obviously hadn’t had lunch in it or sat down for a prolonged period of time,” Randall had commented.

 

“You asked me to come to your office based on my suit?” Lindsey had asked disbelieving.

 

“No I deduced you were a lawyer looking for work from your suit. I asked you here because I could use someone and you looked like you needed a change.”

 

“What if I’m not any good?” the young man had asked.

 

“You told me you were,” Randall had replied unflinching.

 

“You’d trust the word of a lawyer?” Lindsey had smirked.

 

“I know, it’s a novel approach,” Randall had answered strait faced. And so Lindsey McDonald formerly of the Law firm of Wolfram and Hart in Los Angeles had found himself in the employ of one Randall Thorton-James III do-gooder and rescuer of lost souls.

 

Miss Elmira had been deeply chagrined at the news. Every morning as Lindsey would pass in front of Miss Ellie’s desk on his way to his cramped second floor office she would scowl at his retreating back.  Lately though he had been wearing her down. She had almost cracked a smile at him this morning before she’d thought better of it. Case by case he was winning her over a little more.

 

He’d helped parents get their children back, he had written wills, he had made sales agreements for clients, and he had even arranged an adoption among other things. It had all been remarkably run of the mill. His new firm was un-supernatural, ordinary. Despite his reservations Lindsey was starting to believe in the future again, in his future.

 

The Angelesque qualities of his new case not withstanding, he was beginning to enjoy coming to work in the morning. As he worked on this new case trying to prevent a large multinational conglomerate from finishing a land deal, which would put several families out of their homes, something particular had started to happen, something that he had not experienced since law school, he had started enjoying the law again. He had found new nuances and instead of loopholes he’d started arguing his cases using points of law, albeit sometimes skewed ones. When he shaved in the morning he found that he could actually stand the image he saw in the mirror.

 

“Lindsey, my boy what are you still doing here at this ungodly hour?” Randall asked, popping his head through the open doorway of his newest associate’s office, breaking the young man’s pensive recollections.

 

“I was just going over some depositions for the Junor case, sir,” Lindsey smiled tiredly. His stomach chose this most inopportune moment to grumble.

 

“It’s late, seems to me that’s something you could do at home in the company of a good pizza, or whatever iron stomach requiring concoction is popular with you young people these days,” his boss smiled. “Beside if Miss Ellie sees you with eyes all bloodshot tomorrow, she’ll presume you’re just off a drunk and you are so close to being off her shit list. The flowers were a nice touch, boy.”

 

“Why such language Mister Randall! She told me she wouldn’t accept bribes, ”Lindsey smirked, throwing the files he had been working on into his briefcase knowing his employer would not stop until he was out the door.

 

“Yes, but she put them in water. You’re breaking her down,” Randall smiled, walking Lindsey out of his office.

 

“So by next Christmas I might actually have a shot?” he joked.

 

“You may even get her special homemade fruitcake.” Seeing the look on Lindsey’s face, he quickly added, “Hey boy, don’t mock, you haven’t tried her fruitcake, it’s sinful.”

 

“Goodnight, sir,” Lindsey waved as he walked down the back stairs.

 

“See you tomorrow, son,” Randall had shot back.

 

He walked out of the building carefully locking the deadbolt behind him, he didn’t like the idea of Randall being there alone at night and he always made sure the place was secure when he left. He knew of too many things that went bump in the night. He may be trying to put LA behind him, but that didn’t mean he had selective amnesia. He still wore a crucifix around his neck and carried a vile of holly water in his pocket.

 

 

He made his way to the well-lit parking lot behind the building and slipped into his truck. His heart had almost given out one morning when Mr. Thorton-James had complemented the vehicle, commenting how it was the first model year with rap around windshields. Lindsey had almost gagged on the iced-mocha he’d been sipping. Yes an iced-mocha. He had not gotten into whole overly hip drink obsession in LA, but he didn’t have a company car with AC anymore and he needed his morning caffeine fix. Besides it gave him an excuse to avoid the office coffee.  In retrospect motor oil had been a generous characterization. Lindsey found himself drinking more and more specialty coffees, surprised that he was going to such lengths to appease Miss Elmira. At his old job he had basically ignored his support staff, only bothering with his secretary to yell some abuse at her or threaten termination, though he rarely resorted to that, hating it himself. She in turn did nothing to help him with his job, back stabbing every chance she got, hoping to fall in favor with someone more prominent at the Firm. He had trusted her with nothing. Now he was doing everything he could think of, just not to tell the lady at the front desk that he hated her coffee, and still manage to get his daily caffeine fix.

 

At the grumbling in his belly, Lindsey picked up his cell and dialed his favorite pizza place. His dinner would arrive just after he got home. His hunger found him at his doorstep ten minutes before he should have been. Yawning as he opened his front door, he inwardly thanked Randall for sending him home. He was far more tired than he had thought. He walked into his apartment throwing his keys onto the chest in his foyer and flicking the lights on in one smooth motion. Bending he picked up his mail quickly sorting out the junk mail from the real correspondence. Craning his neck to the side, he decided to watch some primetime TV before getting on with his allocated work for the night.

 

The brief case he had still been holding dropped from nerveless fingers as he walked into his living room.

 

“Hello Lindsey,” Lilah greeted from her position on his living room sofa. “Nice place you have here, very every man.”

 

“What the Hell are you doing in my home, Li?” Lindsey demanded trying to remain calm.

 

“I’m here on business, at the behest of a client,” Lilah responded crisply, uncrossing her legs in a manner that would have made a man who did not know her so well explode in his pants, it just made him tremble.

 

“As far as I now Wolfram and Hart is not listed as counsel in any action my firm is involved in. Trust me it wouldn’t have slipped my mind,” he responded sarcastically.

 

“No we’re not. You see this client sent me here to acquire something of value to it. Believe me Lindsey I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be. I was quite happy to see you go for obvious reasons. Though you should see the joker I’m up against now. You’d be ashamed.” Lilah scoffed.

 

“What exactly is it you want or rather your client wants? I left everything at the firm.” Lindsey demanded the ball in his chest getting bigger by the second. He was fairly certain the something involved his head on a stick or at the very least some sort of platter. He had a weapon in his bedroom; just no way he could get to it. He’d stopped carrying it a couple of months ago, when he’s started feeling more secure in his new life. Now he cursed himself a fool. He knew damned well that Miss Morgan was not sitting in his apartment all by herself. He sensed more than heard the man behind him. Lunging, he grabbed Lilah using her as a human shield.

 

“Hold your fire,” she instructed crossly. “Lindsey there is a full team here. Please make things easier on all of us and just come with us voluntarily. You won’t be harmed if you cooperate with us, fully,” she soothed as his arm pressed around her neck making it difficult to breathe.

 

“As tempting as that offer sounds, No. I think I’ll decline,” answered dragging her towards his bedroom, maybe if he could get his hands on the handgun in his bedside table he’d be able to use Lilah to force his way out of this. Right now he knew the firm’s goons were more afraid of hitting her than any threat he posed to her safety. He knew he did not stand a chance against a full Wolfram and Hart assault team.

 

He had almost made it to the threshold of his room when they made their move. As one they moved, freeing his captive and wrestling him to the ground in one fluid motion. He fought like a wild animal garnering a few punches and kicks before Lilah’s far off voice ordered them to stop before he was damaged. He heard the sound of compressed air being released practically at the same time he felt the sting in his left buttock. He continued to struggle briefly hearing the beep of the power button on a mobile followed by Lilah’s distant voice confirming the extraction teams success. Just then the world went dark.

 

* * *

 

“He still hold up in there man,” Charles Gunn asked walking into the lobby of the Hyperion hotel with his girlfriend in tow. Cordelia just nodded numbly.

 

“How is the General?” Groo asked from her side.

 

“Who cares,” Lorne shot back from behind him. The emphatic demon had still not forgiven the former watcher his betrayal.

 

“Lorne, we’ve talked about this. You know Wes thought he was doing the right thing. He was trying to protect Connor,” Gunn replied calmly.

 

“Tell that to sourdough upstairs,” Lorne replied acidly, pointing towards Angel’s rooms.

 

“He thought Angel was going to kill the kid, he panicked,” Gunn staunchly defended his friend.

 

“So why didn’t he tell someone? Why keep this to himself if he’s so sure,” Lorne accused.

 

“He wasn’t sure. That’s the point. He was hoping he’d made a mistake in his translations. The way Angel was acting, you got to admit he had reason to be afraid. I was scared for Connor. Even Angel was,” Gunn protested. He had come to respect the Englishman and felt guilty about the way things had turned out, if not for the whole Fred situation maybe Wesley would have felt able to confide in someone. Gunn mused their defacto leader must have felt incredibly alone watching everyone else pair up. Even Angel the supposed eunuch had done better than him, managing to bag both Darla and Lilah, the fact that he was not in his body during the Lilah fiasco not withstanding. Wes had had no one since the disintegration of his romance with that Virginia chick.

 

“Gross,” Cordelia suddenly cried out. “Connor! Oh my God get Angel now.”

 

***

 

The vampire sat immobile in his dark sanctuary, a shrine to his missing infant son. After finally managing to pick himself up off the ground were he had been left alone to wallow in his misery, he had dragged himself back to the hotel and started furiously gathering up all of Connor’s things. He had snarled at Lorne when he had asked what had happened, told him that his son was lost trapped in a hell dimension with Holtz and to leave him the fuck alone like he belonged. He’d forbidden the Pylean from helping him with his task. Having herded all of the baby’s things into one of the second floor suites he locked the door forbidding anyone from disturbing his morning. Alone he sank down onto the faded beige carpeting tears down his face surrounded by Connor’s scent, it’s purity disturbed only by the lingering presence of the traitor’s smell in the background. His demon howled deep inside him that he had ever been foolish enough to let the man near his offspring. This man who had insisted Connor was evil before he had even been born. He was a watcher devoted to killing his kind. How could he have forgotten that?

 

He had so wanted to believe in Wesley’s friendship after losing Doyle. He loved Cordelia, but he had needed someone else with them, someone to offset Cordy’s often abrasive and over-enthusiastic demeanor. The shy quiet Englishman had been an asset to them. Little by little the nervous young man had grown in confidence and assurance. Angel had been so proud of the way he had handled himself when Angelus had temporarily reemerged during that debacle with that stupid actress and again during their visit to Pylea. The young man he’d known in Sunnydale would never have been capable of those things, but the grown up version he’d helped mature into a valuable fighter and leader was capable of these things and more. So how could he have killed his son?

 

He ignored the pounding on the door, but it only intensified. He could hear Gunn and Fred’s voices calling to him. He stayed were he was. He only ever allowed Lorne in every couple of weeks to deliver blood. The demon would wordlessly hand it to him, knowing that if he dared speak his offering would not even be accepted. Angel ate only enough to keep himself alive. The sound of the door breaking of its hinges startled the sedate vampire briefly. Cordy and her boy-toy were back. He would probably have to hurt mini-him.

 

“Angel, my princess must see you at once, she has had a vision about your child,” Groo announced. Immediately Angel focused on him. He moved so quickly that Gunn and Fred’s human eyes could only catch a faint blur in the hallway.

 

“What about my son. What did she see?” the desperate man demanded shaking his one time rival.

 

“Perhaps you should come downstairs and speak to the princess in order to find out. Only she can answer all your questions. She is waiting for you in the… lobby, next to the weapons. Angel released him not even glancing at his friends as he made his way to the seer. Please let this be good news. He took back every negative thing he had ever said or thought about the powers that be if they would only give him his precious boy back. He loved the child so much. Enough to send him to live with Holtz forever. He would have gladly let the man take him away forever rather than face the alternative, a world without Connor.

 

He found Cordelia by the weapons cabinet pulling out axes and swords. He heard the sounds of pages turning and half expected to find Wes looking for their prey in some dusty old tome, instead he found Caritas’ former host busily comparing a sketch Cordy must have drawn with the demons in a bunch of open books. Cordelia handed him his favorite broad sword ignoring how emaciated he looked. Craning her neck and seeing Gunn hurry over she handed him his axe, giving Groo and Fred each a sword and a crossbow respectively. Taking a slim blade for herself she grabbed Angel’s sleeve and started dragging him towards the door.

 

“What is this? Groo said you had a vision about Connor. Where are we going?” Angel demanded. His son was in a hell dimension, they suddenly had news and they were hauling him out the door without a word.

 

“Where going to fight some demon from my vision about Connor,” the former cheerleader replied slowly as if speaking to someone simpleminded.

 

“Groo said your vision was about Connor,” Angel accused. He was not feeling particularly trusting these days.

 

“Two parter, first part is a big scary demon,” she replied exasperated.

 

“Like I care about some demon. All fighting demons has ever done is cost me everyone that I’ve ever loved,” Angel boomed frightening Fred half out of her wits with the sudden unexpected sound. None of them were used to them being that vocal since the loss of the baby.

 

“Well, did it ever occur to you that if this demon came along with a vision of the baby, that we need to fight it to get the baby back?” Queen C retorted with years of valley girl sarcasm.

 

“Right,” he conceded, “So tell me about Connor,” he asked more calmly.

 

“I’ll fill you in on the way. If you been down here instead of brooding alone in the dark you’d already know,” she replied a little harshly. If she needed to guilt him out of that room that’s what she would do. She would not leave her dearest friend slowly killing himself in a derelict hotel room.

 

The Angel mobile, as the owner’s favorite de-fanged childe had dubbed it, sped its way across town to an abandoned mansion of all things. Cordelia and Angel shared a silent cringe remembering another mansion in another California town, then both did a double take. The Powers had sent them to what was formerly Winters estate, which had been allowed to fall into a sorry state of disrepair since Angel had incinerated the owner. It actually looked like it had been rundown on purpose.

 

“This makes sense, if that little creep is involved, Wolfram and Hart must own this place,” Angel fumed. He decided he really would kill the little cretin this time. He should never have believed that BS about his leaving LA. He had to admit that the law firm from Hell had done quite a job hiding the bastard. He could not swallow that he had bought the slick lawyer’s act again. I’m not doing this because I’ve learned some lesson or something to that effect. The lawyer’s snarky voice reverberated in Angel’s head.

 

He had been furious when Cordelia, whom he still could not believe he was allowing to drive his beloved convertible, had filled him in on the second part of her vision. Lindsey McDonald, a man he no longer thought would be the bane of his existence, holding his child, screaming at Angel. Actually Cordy had said they had been fighting and then she’d smelled blood she had recounted. This time Angel would make sure it belonged to McDonald. He would not be taken in again.

 

“If those lawyers are involved we need to be extra careful. This may be a trap,” Gunn pointed out, looking at Groo who they all knew was prone to rash action.

 

“I will follow your lead,” Groo answered solemnly; he had no interest in repeating the fiasco with the tree demon, not with his beloved present and at risk. He had never been a leader, but a champion. He had gone were ordered and battled the beasts he had been instructed. He was a weapon to be aimed, though he hoped someday by emulating the example of the warriors at Angel Investigations he would be more.

 

One by one, trying to keep the clatter of weaponry to a minimum, they made their way over the walls and unto the grounds that surrounded the estate. Angel’s enhanced supernatural vision picked up several black clad guards deployed around the compound’s lawns and gardens. The same sort of guards he’d become so familiar with a couple of month’s prior. If any doubts had lingered before, they were now put to rest. Whatever the senior partners had planned it was obviously of some importance. Quietly, he motioned to Groo and Gunn. He was impressed at how easily they moved together. They had been forced to learn in his absence he mused. Life, he was beginning to realize, had not stopped for the two months he had locked himself away. He tried to quell his meandering thoughts and efficiently took down a guard. Gunn and Groo had each dispatched one as well, the Groosalugg using an effective sleeper hold and the vampire hunter the flat of his axe.

 

Despite his initial resentment over the Pylean’s arrival and the demise of his romantic chances with Cordelia, he had to admit the man was an asset. He seemed to have curbed his earlier over-over-zealousness as well. Angel was impressed; the boy apparently did not need to be taught a lesson more than once. The events under the park seemed to have given him new reserves of patience and caution, which he had apparently set aside earlier when he had broken down Angel’s door. Of course sometimes the direct approach is the best; the vampire thought felling his opponent.

 

***

Lindsey shuddered as a massive hand caressed his naked thigh. Blood trickled down his arm as he struggled ineffectually, the thorny vines that bound his extremities holding him fast.  He was fairly certain they were toxic. He felt lightheaded and he had trouble focusing. Of course that could also be attributed to the sedative they had shot him with earlier. He tried to focus on the large demon currently fondling him. It was huge, but looked relatively human except for its scarlet glowing eyes and rather flat forehead complete with large horns. It would have dwarfed any man in professional sports.

 

He heard Lilah say something to it in some sort of demon language he didn’t recognize. Since when did she speak whatever the Hell it was? It shrieked at her, petting him absently when he stiffened involuntarily at the sound. Lilah apparently conceded waving in the captive’s general direction. The large demon grunted its consent. Smiling coolly she turned to look at her former rival for the first time since he had awoken in this embarrassing position.

 

“Just try and relax Lindsey. It’ll make things so much easier on you,” she advised, turning to leave, washing her hands of the whole thing.

 

“Please Lilah, I made sure you were taken care of before I left. I deserve to die with more dignity than this,” he begged knowing his pleas would fall on deaf ears, but he was past pride now.

 

“Sweetie you’re not going to die tonight. As a matter of fact Ket’Char here has gone to considerable expense to bring you here, he’ll treat you like a precious possession for the rest of your life. If you give it a chance I’m sure you’ll be very happy together,” she laughed.

 

“Fuck you, you bitch,” he spat.

 

“Not me, but you have the general idea, I have to be going now,” sneered, turning back to Ket’Char she spoke to him briefly before exiting the room. The demon, looking down at him, smiled not at reassuringly as it removed its scant clothing. The monster’s reproductive organs were as massive as the rest of him and were covered with softened bristles. Ket’Char was, and had apparently been for quite some time, very erect. The demon grumbled something wistfully to Lindsey.

 

Lindsey’s breath hitched as he felt the creature’s massive hands parting his cheeks. Internally he tried to heed Lilah’s advice. He knew from bitter experience that she was right, but it had been such a long time and he had promised himself he would never allow himself to be in such a vulnerable position again. He gasped as he felt its mammoth digit breach his tight passage, silently thanking the worst parts of his life that he was no longer a virgin. He could not help bitter tears from falling as he felt it stretch him roughly. He supposed he should be grateful Ket’Char was even bothering. His memories failed to prepare him for the agonizing pain. He screamed as it removed its fingers and entered him. Not even having his hand sliced off had hurt this badly.

 

***

 

As Angel and the others made their way into the house, the resistance they encountered actually became lighter. The night air was rife with agonized screams. Someone was in a great deal of pain. Since screams usually equaled nasties, they made their way downstairs to the basement. By the time they reached the heavy oak door that led to what was presumably originally intended to be the wine cellar, the screams had toned down to low whimpers only and the Pylean's could hear. It took both the champions to break down the door, though Angel in his weakened state was little help.

 

The room beyond's stone walls were bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. It danced on the walls, flickering the breeze from the now open doorway fanning the tiny flames. Angel would have made some witty comment about cheesy B horror movie lighting if not for the scene before him. An enormous horned demon, it stood over 8 feet in height, was brutally raping a young man. His victim was bound, hands above his head, legs bent and spread apart. Angel could see and smell the thin sheen of blood on the man’s limbs. The young man wailed in agony just as the demon through his head back in ecstasy. Mercifully his victim seemed to have passed out. The vampire could smell the sadly familiar mix of human blood and demon semen. For weeks the distraught father had been helpless, with nothing to channel his anger to except a human who had betrayed him. Now before him stood something he could fight and kill. Without another thought Angel swung him broadsword cleaving the creature’s head of his body in one powerful blow. The vampire ripped the body away before it could collapse on the human.

 

“Fuck,” he heard Gunn exclaim as they got their first look at the captive.

 

“Born again boy,” Cordelia gasped in surprise, gazing down at Lindsey McDonald’s bruised and battered form.

 

***

 

Angel could not believe he was cradling the lawyer’s unconscious body to him as they drove back towards the hotel. They had bitterly argued about what to do with him. Fred, who of course didn’t know the man, wanted to bring him to a hospital, Angel wanted to throttle the truth out of him right then and there, Gunn voted to leave him where they found him, surprisingly the voice of reason was Cordelia. She reminded them all that the Powers That Be had sent them all to help the man so that is what they would do, she also reminded them that if the demon somehow affected Lindsey a hospital would be able to do nothing, besides he seemed to be bleeding less. Angel confirmed that the bleeding was slowing and the lawyer’s heartbeat seemed to be stabilizing. Until they knew exactly what kind of demon the thing had been there was no telling how his victim would be affected. Angel admitted he smelled something wrong, it was possible the thing’s semen was venomous. The best thing to do they decided, would be to bring McDonald back with them and try to determine the nature of the demon attacker.  So they had carefully freed the senseless man, cringing at what the thorny bonds had done to the flesh of his wrists and ankles. Angel had reluctantly scooped him into his arms, refusing to let the man out of his sight even for a moment. Lindsey McDonald was going to pay finally, even if Angel had to keep him alive to make it so. He categorically refused Groo’s offer to carry his burden. He did however accept the blanket from the car Fred offered him. It was much easier to nurse his hatred of Lindsey if he didn’t have to see the livid bruises that were beginning to form on the mortal. Lindsey had begun mewling softly as the vampire cradled his wounded body to him. Angel could hear his charge’s heartbeat and feel the growing heat radiating of his skin. The mortal did not smell quite right, it was not the usual rank smell of sickness one associated with ill humans, but it definitely wasn’t the mortals usual sent. He had smelt it enough times on his sire to recognize that at once.

 

***

 

Angel watched the young man struggle back to consciousness. He trashed about weakly on the bed, his bandaged wrists a stark contrast to the maroon sheets. The vampire had to restrain himself from brushing the sweaty bangs off of the injured man’s forehead. The lawyer looked deceptively small and innocent lying there. Angel had to remind himself whom it was he was looking at exactly, and why he was there.

 

He should be slapping the little bastard awake and demanding answers, but he doubted that the best way to get the information he wanted was to further injure the man who was his only clue to getting his son back. So he watched and waited for his foe to awaken. Lindsey had begun slowly begging in his sleep. Angel’s protective instincts took over, without thinking he laid a soothing hand on the other man’s brow and shushed him softly. The wounded man calmed almost immediately under his comforting touch.

 

Downstairs the others were furiously searching through books trying to identify the nature of the demon, which had attacked their former nemesis. He could smell that the other man was no longer bleeding. Considering how much blood he had smelt earlier, Angel did not believe the man’s healing was entirely natural. The heat being generated by the unconscious indicated to the vampire that the mortal was running a fairly high fever, but that could be explained by infections caused by injuries sustained during the rape. Somehow though Angel knew that was not the case. He could almost taste the web of magic surrounding the man on the bed.

 

Angel’s eyes shot open, he had not realized how tired he had been. He really had not slept during the weeks following Connor’s disappearance just stayed up until exhaustion had made him pass out temporarily. His sleep was always short and left him little refreshed. He had dozed off without realizing it, only to be awakened by the dry croak of his name. Strangely he couldn’t seem to muster the old hatred as he stared into Lindsey’s terrified eyes blue eyes. Had the other man not said his name he would not have thought that he had recognized him. The lawyer just stared blankly in front of him, scooting back on the bed and bringing his knees to his chest. His entire body was wracked with tremors.

 

“Lindsey, it’s okay you’re safe now. It’s over,” Angel tried to soothe.

 

All that came out when the other tried to respond was a dry croak. The boy’s throat was probably raw from all the screaming he’s done during his assault. Well if he wanted the boy to talk he should fix that. It had absolutely nothing to do with Lindsey huddled on the corner of the bed looking like a broken doll with his glassy blue eyes. The vampire shook his head clearing his thoughts. Lindsey even further his back hitting the wall behind him as Angel stood up.

 

“It’s alright Lindsey. I’m just going to get you a glass of water okay?” Angel said trying to keep his voice calm and even. He was grateful the glass was plastic as he crouched down to hand it to the shuddering young man. For a moment he was convinced the boy would not be able to hold it on his own, but he took a deep breath and managed to hold it steady two handed and brought it tentatively to his lips. His eyes never left Angel as he drank. He coughed briefly spilling part of the glass’ contents all over himself and the linens. But then seemed to get himself under control and sipped carefully managing to swallow most of his drink.

 

“Better?” the vampire inquired, attempting to quell his animosity for the man and sound non- threatening. He must not have succeeded since Lindsey looked about ready to bolt at any moment.

 

“Do you know where you are?” Angel asked. Negative shake of the head, though the part of Lindsey that was not paralyzed with fear must have it’s own ideas.

 

“You’re at my hotel safe,” Angel reassured. It was strange seeing Lindsey MacDonald so visibly afraid. He’d smelled fear on the boy before, but even as he’d lain at Angel feet clutching the bloody stump of his arm to himself in obvious agony the lawyer had still looked up at him with defiance and disdain. Now he just seemed broken. The thought surprisingly angered Angel.

 

Lindsey had always been a survivor, cocky and sure of himself, confident in his ability to deal with whatever situation life threw at him. The young man had not allowed the amputation of his right had to handicap him, he had in fact taken all his anger, pain and bitterness and directed it squarely at his antagonist re-launching his campaign to destroy the souled vamp in earnest. Angel if he was truthful to himself had to admit a certain amount of admiration for his attitude; he’d known many others who would have used the mutilation as an excuse to give up. Lindsey MacDonald had only fought harder, seeing the man like this made Angel wish the demon had not died so quickly.

 

“That… thing?” Lindsey whispered hoarsely. Angel doubted that without his enhanced hearing he would have been able to hear him.

 

“It’s dead. I killed it, cleaved its head right off. It can never harm you again,” Angel answered. The boy just nodded numbly. “I saved you, brought you back here,” Angel continued.

 

“LA,” the boy gasped softly as if realizing where he was for the first time. He got a far of look on his face, looking mutely into the distance at monsters only he could see.

 

“At the Hyperion. I’ll protect you Lindsey, keep you safe, but I need you to tell me the truth,” Angel coached. He’d even do it. Wolfram and Hart had obviously realized they couldn’t trust Lindsey and decided to dispose of him by turning him into some sort of signing bonus for that large horned demon. Angel was more than willing to see that the boy was kept out of demon hands. No matter how much he disliked the young man he had never wanted to see the scene he’d walked into earlier that night. It was like watching a wild beast being hunted down and caged and tormented for sport or entertainment. It wasn’t that you particularly held any love for the lion or bear, it was just that it was so far against the laws of nature that you could not help but take offence. It was the reason the vampire had freed dozens of demons back into the LA night two years ago. Though he would kill most of them if he ever crossed paths with them again, having them kept prisoners to play gladiators for the spoilt gentry of LA’s underground had been… un-natural. This cowering creature sitting on his bed was not Lindsey MacDonald. Even his scent was wrong, not the confident assurance he always picked up along with his fear.

 

“The truth?” Lindsey asked in seeming confusion. How dare he put on this innocent act? The evil lawyer was obviously faking this whole thing. It was a setup. But…he had smelled the fear. It was a setup.

 

“Don’t play with me Lin. Wolfram and Hart have obviously turned on you. You don’t owe them anything anymore. Now tell what they know about my son, before I lose patience and decide it’s not worth my time keeping you from being some demon’s whore,” Angel threatened. How dare the little shyster try to deceive him? He knew he had information. He’d saved him, when it was obvious no one else cared what happened to the ungrateful little asshole.

 

“Angel,” Lindsey began in a panicky voice that almost gave out. He’s lying. “I haven’t been at the firm for months. I don’t even live in California anymore. How could I now about…” the lawyer paused mid sentence. He looked at the vampire as if he thought he’d joined his star conversing childe at club mad. “Um… Penn’s dead Angel. Lockley dusted him remember.”

 

“My son Connor, you little worm,” the vampire raged, shifting into game face, as he grabbed the other man by the throat and lifted him off the bed. “If you think what Wolfram and Hart supposedly did to you was bad imagine what a man with the knowledge of Angelus could do to you? I could torture you for days,” the irate father promised. Lindsey just clawed at his hand in blind terror, his breath coming ragged and quick. The vampire slapped him hard letting him drop to the bed.

 

“What do you know about Connor?” Angel demanded again. The younger man just shook his head hyperventilating.

 

“I know you know something boy, Cordelia had a vision,” the dark haired vampire glowered.

 

“I don’t know what the Hell you’re talking about Angel,” the hurt mortal pleaded in exasperation.

 

“I want to know what your bosses know, about my baby boy,” the souled creature repeated. He would find out. He was tired of the boy’s lies.

 

“Your baby… Angel you’re a vampire, that’s impossible,” Lindsey said slowly, as though speaking to someone he thought not quite in his right mind.

 

“Tell me what the firm…” Angel began, ready to torture the information out of the lawyer.

 

“I DON’T WORK FOR WOLFRAM AND HART! Do you get that or do I need to say it again with words with smaller syllables,” the young man groused angrily, his earlier hysteria apparently conquered by his annoyance or his arrogance.

 

“Then how do you explain the vision?” the other snarled.

 

“How the fuck should I know? Maybe Cordelia’s cable wires are crossed. Maybe it’s an early April Fools joke from the Powers that Be. I work in a tiny law office in Oklahoma City Angel. I have nothing to do with Wolfram and Hart any longer,” the man tried to convince his enemy.

 

“Then what were you doing here in LA with Lilah and her special boys?” Angel growled.

 

“She showed up at my place with an extraction team. They were there when I finished work. Did it look to you like I was a willing participant? You’re being totally irrational,” the young man hissed, closing his eyes exhausted by the outburst.

 

“Why?” the vampire wanted to know. Lindsey was making sense to his tired mind. No, he’s lying. He lies.  You know what he is.

 

“She said… she said a client had sent them to acquire something of value. They drugged me. When I came to I was… in there,” the lawyer insisted. He lies. He knows about Connor. He pretends to be the innocent victim. He plays you for a fool.

 

“She went all the way to Oklahoma with a team to get some demon a piece of fluff? Frankly Linds, you’re a nice piece, but not that nice. You must have acquired quite a reputation working for the senior partners,” the former scourge of Europe hissed viciously. Mind games had always been Angelus’ specialty. He had a special ability to sniff out what would damage his victim the most. The stricken look on his adversary’s face almost made him relent. He’s guilty. He has to pay.

 

“You’re such a hypocrite Angel, Mr. Dark avenger defender of the downtrodden my ass. You’re a bully, just like your un-souled self. Does it make you feel all big and strong making me feel like crap?” The mortal seethed. The little whore! How dare he! He’s always wanted it from her, from a demon. He was asking for it.

 

“I’m sorry Lin. I’m sure you must be upset loosing your boyfriend like that. Mid coitus I mean,” the vampire snarled ignoring the stricken look on Lindsey’s face. He’s trying to trick you again. He’s always wanted demons. Darla, You. Why not that demon? That demon who’d tied the boy down and torn him apart inside. It was a set up. A classic one. Are you going you going to be a sucker and just fall into it? Call the little whore’s bluff. Give him exactly what he’s always wanted. What? Give it to him. He’s asking for it.

 

“You fucking bastard how dare you? That thing, that creature raped me. I’d guess you could understand that, having been an expert at it yourself. You know why I’ve always hated you Angel?” the lawyer asked furiously.

 

“Because you’re a evil little shyster?” The big man mocked.

 

“Because I’ve never met a being before that is so completely and totally full of shit. I always knew this hero routine of yours was all an act. You’re in this for yourself and no one else. The second you don’t get what you want, then we see the real you don’t we Angelus,” the wounded mortal sniped.

 

He's asking for it. He’s offering it. Take it. Take it.

 

“ You wanna see the real expert me. Lindsey. That can be arranged you little shit,” the angered vampire growled, ripping the overpriced sheet of the young man’s battered body.  Take, Take, Take.

 

* * * *

 

Charles Gunn turned suddenly at the crocking sound coming from his best friend. English hadn’t been able to say a word since he’d awoken in the hospital. With the damage to his throat the doctor’s had been unsure he’d ever speak again. The demon hunter found himself actually missing the former watcher’s sometimes long-winded explanations.

 

“Wes?” He asked his momentary fury at the man’s absolute refusal to event consider helping them identify the demon that had um attacked lawyer-boy. He pleaded with Wes, explaining that they were at their wits end trying to identify the creature, but the Englishman refused to budge on the issue. He would just turn is head and refuse to even look at the demon hunter. Finally disgusted by the other man’s stubborn refusal to help his friends, Gunn had turned to leave muttering under his breath about big demon rapists who tied there victims up with freaky thorny vines.

 

The wounded Englishman motioned for a pen. Looking around the room, the younger man grabbed the dry-erase board that Wes had pitched across the room in a fit of anger earlier and handed it to his friend. The other man quickly scribbled something down.

 

-Quills on genitalia?-

 

“If you mean did it have a really funky looking… I didn’t look that close, but yeah. Why?” Gunn asked realizing that English knew exactly what they were dealing with. Wes quickly erased the board, turning the side of his hand black.

 

-Keep demons away-

 

“Um we just took him from a demon Wes,” the demon hunter reminded his friend. Maybe Wes wasn’t has recovered has he thought.

 

-ANGEL, CORDY, LORNE, GROO = Demon-

 

“Shit Angel is with law-boy right now,” Gunn realized.

 

-Get him away from him. NOW-

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Maybe someone should check on them?”  Fred suggested timidly. The angry screaming had stopped, but the frail brunette wasn’t entirely sure that was a good sign. She’d never have believed that Angel would hurt someone who was obviously helpless, but the look on his face when he’s realized who it was he was rescuing had terrified Fred. The others weren’t acting much better. Only Lorne seemed remotely concerned about the state that they’d found the young man in. Lindsey she reminded herself. It was hard to remember, since no one at AI actually seemed to want to use his actual name.

 

Of course, if there was one thing her time in Pylea had taught her it was that was the first step to truly dehumanizing someone. Of course, maybe dehumanizing wasn’t the best choice of words since the ruling class had all been demons. No one had ever claimed she wasn’t human, just that human’s weren’t really people, which was just semantics really. The Point was she understood that the first step to allowing yourself to abuse someone was stripping away their identity. It was far easier to beat or kill a “cow” than it would have been Winifred Burkle, a person.

 

Fred was sure her friends would have been scandalized to know what she was thinking, but she couldn’t help but find herself increasingly disturbed by the others attitude. Although from what Charles had told her, Lindsey had been no saint.

 

Still no matter what he’d done in the past, it didn’t justify talk of dumping the victim of a vicious rape onto the side of the road. They were supposed to be the good guys. Didn’t that mean that they should show some compassion? Maybe even a little forgiveness? Fred thought so. Unfortunately she seemed to be alone in her opinion.

 

“Normally I’d agree with you Freddy-kins, but I don’t think Angel Cake will let us anywhere near the room, much less inside it. Believe me I don’t like the idea of those two alone together anymore than you do,” the former host of Caritas agreed.

 

“I could accompany you if you wish, Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan,” the Groosalugg enthusiastically offered. The man reminded Fred of an overeager puppy. Try as she might she couldn’t quite seem to shake the unease that she felt around the creature, well man really. Even though part of her pitied Groo, who would never be accepted fully either the humans or the demons of his home dimension, his very presence reminded a larger part of her of a time she just simply wished to forget.

 

Strangely enough Lorne, green skin and all, didn’t have that effect on her. Maybe it’s that he was so far removed from all things Pylea. Even after spending years amongst the hosts kind Fred sometimes had a hard time remembering that he was from another dimension. All Groo had to do was open his mouth and it was painfully clear that he wasn’t from around these parts. Hmmm, maybe they should start telling people that he’s from overseas?  

 

“Lorne, sugar beet, just Lorne. I suppose we really should. I have to warn you though if Mr. Grumpy Pants starts in on us you’ll be championing all on your own. This suit is Versace you know,” the red eyed demon conceded.