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serafina20Well, I'm still not completely happy with it, especially not the end, but I've rewritten the Prologue to "Slaying the Giant", which is an Angel fic I wrote .... God. Three years ago? Four? Five? I have no idea. I've been writing Smallville for 3 years, so .... I guess this was four years ago. Wow. No wonder.
I'm still working (slowly) on the rest of the fic. And I'm working on COTW 44, which the first draft might be done. It's not very plot-heavy, and it didn't go the way I intended, but I think the stuff I wanted to put in this fic is best left for another fic. So it'll either be 1 or 2 fics before I get to Visage. I can't wait for that one. *eg*
Prologue
Winter 2000/2001
Lindsey was pressed into the corner of what once had been a wine cellar. Five hours ago, he'd arrived ready for a party with his co-workers. Five hours... a lifetime ago. And what had been a wine cellar now was a prison, and he was one of three prisoners left alive. He knew it wouldn't last much longer; Darla and Drusilla had been slowly killing his co-workers all night, and very soon it would be his turn.
And Lindsey just couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't care about anything anymore: not his career, not his few friends, not anything. Most especially not his live. Lindsey was bored. He was hungry and tired. But he wasn't afraid. Death... life had no meaning to him and all he could do was sit in his corner and wait. Wait for death that hadn't yet come.
It was surprising. Not that he wasn't dead yet; he had figured that Darla would wait to kill him until after everyone else was dead. Lindsey, after all, had been the one who actually loved her. And Darla, being the cold blooded vampire that she was, would want to exploit that love and make his final death all that more painful. So he wasn't surprised he wasn't dead. Lindsey was surprised that he what he wanted more than anything wasn't to be turned and wasn't to be taken as Darla's mate. The surprise was that Lindsey wanted to die.
Death wasn't something that Lindsey had ever really thought about, but now that it was staring him in the face, he realized that he'd been craving it for a long time.
He wanted peace from the world.
Darla stirred. "Drusilla, darling, please shut those two up," she said languidly.
Half asleep, Drusilla rose. "Good night, my dollies," she murmured, snapping the last two lawyer's necks.
There sobs turned to screams before both were silenced.
"Thank you," Darla sighed. She opened her eyes and looked over at Lindsey. "Hello, gorgeous," she purred.
He offered her a small smile.
"You're still not scared, are you?"
"No," he answered honestly.
She frowned. "You're not. And you should be. You have no idea what I'm going to do to you, Lindsey. Or do you think I'm going to turn you." Looking suddenly pleased with herself, Darla rose and began wandering around the room. "What do you think, Drusilla? Does the lovely little lawyer think that I'm going to turn him?"
"No," Drusilla replied sadly. "This bad boy hopes you kill him. He longs for death because he's incomplete. There's a part of him missing."
Darla whirled around, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Drusilla rose and went to Lindsey. Caressing him gently, she said, "There's a light that shines in this one. All pure and pretty. But so lonely. Lost. It can't find what it needs. They were torn apart, and this one feels it. He yearns, so he wants a new start. It wants a new form."
"What does?" Darla's voice was intense now, her entire body tight, eyes bright with interest.
"It glows," Drusilla said again, her eyes sliding close. "Glows with life and ..." Abruptly, Drusilla stiffened. Her eyes went wide, mouth forming into a perfect "o" of surprise before she disintegrated. Her dust scattered around them, falling onto Lindsey.
"Ah," he said, startled, flinched back. His eyes snapped to Darla, looking for an explanation.
She was frowning, looking equally confused. "What the hell?" she demanded, turning around.
And then she let out a startled scream, her body jerking back. Lindsey half-heartedly reached out to her, but it was too late. Darla crumbled to dust before his eyes and was gone.
"What the fuck!" Lindsey leapt to his feet, heart pounding with fear.
There was a ghost standing where Darla had just been. He was short with dark hair, blue-green eyes, and pale, translucent skin. He gazed up at Lindsey seriously, hands in the pockets of his jacket.
"Who are you?" gasped Lindsey.
"My names Doyle. You're Lindsey McDonald, and you are in trouble," the ghost replied.
Confused, Lindsey shook his head. "I'm in trouble. What else is new?"
"The Powers that Be are not happy with you. In fact, they're pretty pissed, and it is never a good idea to get on their bad side. You've ruined everything. It was bad enough when you just worked for the darker forces, but now you've crossed the line. Because of you, the Warrior has been taken off his path. So you're going to get him back."
Lindsey rubbed his forehead. "I'm going to get your Warrior back. Who do you... Oh. Angel." Recognition dawned. "You were Angel's partner."
"Before I died, yes. Now, consider me the ghost of Christmas Past, Present,
and Future." He smiled, looking amused at his own joke. "You are being charged with a duty and that duty is to save Angel's soul before he is lost completely."
"Why should I do that?" he asked scornfully. "I don't give a fuck about Angel, or the Powers that Be,or you."
Doyle stepped closer. "You want to die because you're tired of this life. You want released. I've got news for you, pal, death doesn't equal release. If you were to die right now, you'd go straight to hell, and I don't mean figuratively.
Despite himself, Lindsey shivered. "If I was afraid of that, I'd never have agreed to work for Wolfram and Hart. I knew what I was getting into."
"And now you have a chance to get out of it. Look, you may think you know what hell is, but you don't. It's worse than you can imagine."
"I doubt that."
Doyle reached out and touched Lindsey's arm.
A pain lanced through Lindsey that sent him to his knees. It felt as if he were being ripped apart, one muscle at a time. A thousand bright hot points of pain drove into every nerve. His brain expanded, exploded, contracted; his stomach heaved and twisted. Never before had he even imagined such agony. He couldn't think of anything except the pain, he couldn't breath, couldn't cry, couldn't scream, couldn't escape. He was trapped.
And then it was over. Lindsey fell to the floor, gasping, tears rolling down
his face.
"That's what it's like, over and over," Doyle told him, his voice low and intense. "You are trapped in that moment until the Powers decided otherwise. There is no getting used to it, no dulling from overload, no getting away. You could be there for one day or one century; you could be there until the end of time. And that will be all you will ever know. Nothing else matters, not even what comfort and splendor you lived in on earth. You can't remember it in hell. It's gone. All you know is the pain. So tell me, Lindsey McDonald: is it worth it?"
"No," Lindsey was able to gasp out. "How .... I can't go there. I can't ..." He broke off coughing as he fought not to throw up.
"Then save Angel. Bring him back to his path. Remind him of the reasons he took up the fight in the first place."
His stomach settled, Lindsey pushing himself into a sitting position, looking up at Doyle. "Angel hates me. I don't think there's anything I can do to make him listen to me."
Doyle crouched next to him. "Find him. He's disillusioned and angry, but not lost yet. He needs a reason to believe."
"I won't know what to say."
"When the time comes, the words will come, Prophet." Doyle touched him again, only this time the pain and fear faded, replaced by calm and a sense of duty. "Go in peace."
The doors of the shelter flew open and the ghost disappeared.
"Oh God," Lindsey gasped, calm fleeing and replaced with fear born by the idea
the near impossibility of his task.
* * *
"How do you feel?" Wesley asked, bringing Cordelia a glass of ice water.
"Like I've just had five visions within a half hour," she snapped back. Then
she sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. It just hurts so much." Tears
were in her voice, sliding down her cheeks.
"I know." He lifted her head gently, bringing the glass to her lips.
"It's not just from the visions," she corrected after taking a sip. "It's everything. I thought... I thought we were a family, you know? We were doing
okay. It was hard, but worth it. God, Wes, nothing had ever made me feel so
good about myself than helping people. It mattered. And I thought it mattered
to him too; was I wrong?"
Wesley stroked her hair gently, his heart aching. "No, you weren't. He was simply pushed too far and it broke him."
"Why weren't we enough to save him?" was her anguished reply.
He could think of no answer.
There was a sudden pounding on the door. Cordelia and Wesley exchanged looks.
"Gunn?" she said hopefully.
Gunn had stormed out into the world angrily after being summarily dismissed from Angel's employment the previous evening. He'd been so angry that he was unwilling to even talk to either Wesley or Cordelia. In between her visions, Cordelia had been anxiously watching the phone and the door, hoping for some word from him.
A faint hope filled Wesley's heart as he rose and went to the door. "Perhaps," he said before he opened it.
His face fell, stomach twisting in trepidation when he saw who it was. "Not Gunn," he said stonily.
"Do you have any idea where Angel is?" an extremely disheveled Lindsey asked
breathlessly.
Wesley was attempting to think of an appropriately derogatory reply when there
was a crash from the other room and Cordelia cried out in pain.
Forgetting about the lawyer on the doorstep, Wesley rushed into the apartment. He was peripherally aware that Lindsey was following him, but ignored that fact, intent on helping Cordelia.
"I've got you, I've got you," Wesley soothed, cradling Cordelia in his arms as
she was forced through a vision.
"He's killed a girl! No, he's going to kill her. Oh God, Wes, he's going to ..." she choked out as the vision faded.
"When and where?" demanded Lindsey.
"Tonight at "Rob's Place", a bar on Hollywood Boulevard," Cordelia answered, not noticing to whom she was speaking.
"Any more specific on the time?"
"Around eight."
Wesley grabbed Lindsey around the wrist, fingers digging into the sports coat. "What are you planning to do?" he demanded.
Lindsey gazed unflinchingly at Wesley's accusing eyes. "The Powers That Be want
me to save him. I have to."
"What?"
Cordelia frowned. "What's going on?"
Lindsey took a deep breath, his eyes fastened into Wesley's. "They sent me a messenger. A ghost of Angel's old partner, Doyle. He told me I have to save Angel, and I'm going to. I have to."
"Why should we trust you?" Wesley asked.
He shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. "I don't think you have to. They already do." He looked down at Cordelia, who had closed her eyes against the pain. "What's going on with her?"
"She's been having visions of what Angel has done, is doing, and will do. They
started around noon and have been coming with increasing frequency."
"They hurt?"
"Very much."
Lindsey pulled his arm away and reached into his jacket pocket. "Here, this is my cell phone number. Call me next time she has a vision so I know where to find him. I'm going to stop him, I swear. Just ... just in case."
Wesley took Lindsey's card, their fingers brushing as he did so. A jolt went through him, the type he experienced whenever he performed magic. It made his breath catch in his throat, eyes going wide as he gazed through Lindsey though new, suddenly speculative eyes.
Lindsey was filled with magical power. Clean power, not anything Wolfram and Hart could do. Perhaps he was telling the truth.
"I will be forced to take action should you be lying to me," Wesley said, his voice hard.
Lindsey nodded. "Don't worry; I'm not."
* * *
"Angel."
Angel turned away from the girl he had pinned to the wall. His eyes were wild and unfocused, shirt torn open and untucked, obvious erection pressing against the black leather pants. From where he stood, Lindsey could smell the alcohol Angel had consumed.
When he saw who had addressed him, Angel visible brightened and released the girl. "Lindsey McDonald. It's good to see you, my boy. What are you doing here? Where are the girls?" He glanced around the alley as if expecting them to appear.
"They're dead. Angel, come with me. We need to talk." Lindsey's heart was
pounding in fear as he faced the drunken vampire. He had no idea what he was
doing or what he was supposed to say.
"Hey! He's with me!" the girl protested, stepping away from the wall. She grabbed Angel's arm possessively.
Angel pushed her away hard. "Go 'way." He walked over to Lindsey. "What do you
want?"
Feeling foolish, he said the first thing to come to mind. "To save you."
The vampire started laughing. "Save me? Oh, that's good. I like that one.
Tell me another." He leaned close, trapping Lindsey against the wall.
"No, really. The Powers that-"
"Fuck them," Angel cut him off. "Fuck The Powers That Fucking Be. Fuck them.
Got it? I don't care. They ... they take everything from you. My life, my soul, Buffy, Doyle, Darla. I'm not doing it anymore."
"Angel, you don't mean that. You ..."
"Yes I do." Angel was suddenly completely sober, his eyes cold and dead. The eyes of a demon bore into Lindsey. "Since when do you work for the Powers
anyway, Lindsey? Since when are you concerned with saving anybody? You're
a hot shot lawyer at Wolfram and Hart, the firm created by the darker forces.
Why are you here?" He pressed his body against Lindsey's, rubbing slowly against him.
Heart pounding in his throat, muscles so tight it was physically painful, Lindsey whispered, "I was sent by the ..."
"Shut up! Shut up!" Angel slammed Lindsey into the wall. "Shut. Up." He ran his eyes over Lindsey's body, then reached down, undoing the top button of Lindsey's pants.
He flinched and began to tremble, but pressed his lips together. He couldn't say anthing. He had to save Angel, no matter what the cost. The alternative was unacceptable.
Angel stopped, his hand resting on Lindsey's stomach, fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear. Lindsey forced himself not to look away, instead to meet the dark eyes squarely and with as little fear as possible.
Well, at least meet Angel's eyes.
"Fuck," Angel said after a long moment. He redid Lindsey's pants and swept away in a flurry of movement.
Legs giving out on him, Lindsey slumped to the ground. He was shaking, tears threatening with ever breath.
He'd failed. Now he was damned.
* * *
"You're still here," Wesley said, reluctant relief evident in his tone.
Surprised, Lindsey looked up. "Yeah," he said, dully. "How'd you find me?"
"Cordelia had a vision." Wesley offered his hand to help Lindsey up. "You look
like you could use a drink."
Warily, Lindsey allowed the other man to pull him to his feet. "I failed."
"No, you didn't. The Powers told Delia in her vision that you've made a start,
but you can't give up. They told her that you are working your way towards
redemption just as Angel is."
"After giving me a taste of what damnation will feel like. It wasn't much of a
choice.
"Still, they showed you what would happen. That was kind of them."
"Do you believe me?" Lindsey asked, allowing himself to hope.
Wesley led Lindsey into the bar and ushered him to a seat at the bar. After ordering two drinks, he turned back to Lindsey. "I don't know. I don't
know what to believe or not to believe anymore. Two days ago, Angel was a
partner, a friend. Now, he's fired me from both positions, I assume, and is on this rampage. You, who were my enemy, are suddenly the best shot at getting him
back. I don't know what to believe or even think anymore."
Lindsey sighed and rested his head against his arm. "I know what you mean."
The two men fell silent. After a moment, their drinks were placed in front of them. Lindsey raised his head and downed his in a few quick swallows before gesturing for more.
"You know I wanted him?" he said suddenly. "From the first moment he walked
into my life, I wanted him so badly. He was gorgeous, strong. I used to
fantasize about how it would happen. He'd come to me, I'd go to him. I thought about offering myself to him that time he helped me. After I went back to the firm, I had rape fantasies about him, imagining he'd punish me for betraying him. Then tonight..." Lindsey downed his drink. "I was so fucking scared. He was pressing against me, and he was hard and I know he's stronger then me. Then he, he reached for me and I could see what he wanted, what he planned to do to me and I realized I didn't want it to be like that. I've been... forced before, but it was different. It was Angel." He swallowed hard. "I don't think I would have been able to take it, not from him."
Wesley's eyes bore into the side of his face. Lindsey couldn't look at him, but he was certain he was being judged.
"He has great power over you," Wesley finally said, voice calm.
"Yes."
Wesley sighed. "He didn't do it, though."
"No."
"Then he may still be saved."
Lindsey nodded, then glanced at his companion. "Do you love him?"
There as a guarded pause, as if Wesley were considering the intent of the question.
"I just ... I've always wondered about you two," Lindsey added awkwardly. "You ... sometimes look at him. And you're so devoted. It's none of my business; I just wondered."
Wesley licked his bottom lip in a gesture Lindsey found charming, and exhaled slowly. "Yes," he answered quietly. "I do."
Lindsey looked away, strangely disappointed. Still, he needed Wesley to trust him, so he said, "I swear I'll save him." He turned back, gazing at Wesley earnestly.
"Why? Is it simply because of being damned otherwise?"
"No. I thought I wanted death, but all I want is to be clean, for once in my
life, just to be clean. Angel is part of that, I've always known. You want
something for so long, even when you pretend you don't, so when suddenly your
salvation is staring you in the face, you know what it is. I was scared. It
scares me because it's the harder choice; it means never resting, always
fighting and struggling. But it's what I want, they showed me that. I need to
save Angel because he's so bound up in it all. We all need him, you know, even
The Powers That Be."
"Yes, we all do."
* * *
Wesley had just pulled the covers over Cordelia when he stomach knotted. "Ah," he gasped, falling to his knees.
Cordelia forced herself up. "Wes? What is it?"
He panted as his insides twisted. His heart began to pound, and was ... overwhelmed.
"Wesley? Wesley!"
He couldn't answer as he sank to the floor. Pain and anguish overwhelmed him. His forehead pressed into the hardwood beneath him, and darkness rushed over him,
"No, Wes, don't do this to me," Cordelia begged. She was next to him now, arms around him, holding him tightly. "Please, Wesley, don't."
The pain receded minutely, enough to give Wesley some control. "Sorry," he grunted, forcing his concentration inward. It'd been a long time since he'd felt assaulted by magic, and he was out of his element. However, years of training eventually kicked in, and Wesley ^opened^ his mind. Inhaling deeply, he titled his head back and allowed the elements to enter him. He felt his blood vessels expand, his heart slow, and the twisting pain fade away.
And then he knew what was going on.
He opened his eyes. "Lindsey."
Cordelia was looking at him, mouth hanging open. "Wes," she said, voice steady for the first time in days. "You're glowing. And your eyes ..."
He avoided her eyes as he answered, "Cordelia, you're tired, I ..."
"No, I'm not tired. Not anymore." She put her hand to her head. "I feel fine." She said the last wonderingly, eyes bright for the first time in days.
Fear twisted Wesley's stomach, but he pushed it away. He couldn't think about it now, wouldn't examine what he'd done. He couldn't ...
"I need to .... Lindsey's in trouble." Frightened, he left the room and went to find Lindsey.
He was in the elevator, slumped and half-conscious. There was a bite mark on his neck, and blood oozed from it slowly.
"Lindsey," Wesley gasped. He fell to his knees in front of him. "What happened?" He touched Lindsey's sweat-slicked forehead.
Foggy blue eyes opened, and Lindsey's lips curved. "Hey, gorgeous. I didn't know you could glow."
Ignoring him, Wesley said, "He bit you?" He felt shock. Yes, Angel had been acting strangely since this began, but to bite a human. To bite Lindsey ....
"I feel good," Lindsey said, head lolling to the side.
"Is he high?" Cordelia asked, coming up from behind.
Wesley nodded. "A little. The loss of blood, combined with whatever he drank, and the stress levels." He slid his arm under Lindsey's shoulder, shuddering at the sheer amount of energy pulsating inside Lindsey. Once the euphoria faded, he would be nearly impossible to deal with. "Help me?"
Cordelia knelt on the other side of Lindsey. "Count of three."
"One, two." They lifted Lindsey and, stumbling, led him back to Cordy's apartment.
"Hey, you're up," Lindsey slurred, laying his head on Cordelia's shoulder.
She smiled tightly. "It's a miracle. Apparently Wes had been holding out on us." She twisted as they maneuvered him through the door and into the living room. "Denis? First-aid kit?"
Lindsey fell onto the couch, eyes closed. "I feel sick," he whispered.
"No, no, and no, you are not getting sick on my couch!" Cordelia snapped.
"Cordy," Wesley murmured. He knelt at Lindsey's side and caressed his feverish face once more. "Lindsey, look at me."
"I'm tired."
"How much did he take? Angel?"
Blue eyes peered through eyelashes at Wesley. "Pretty," he sighed.
"He's useless," Cordelia said flatly.
Wesley nodded. "I concur. Ah, thank you, Denis." He took the first aid kit from the invisible hands and opened it. Inside was one of the most complex and complete box of supplies outside of a hospital or Giles' office back in Sunnydale. "Lindsey? I'm going to clean the wound now."
"Okay." He titled his head to the side to give Wesley access.
The wound cleaned easily enough and seemed to have stopped bleeding. It also didn't appear to be very deep, so Wesley decided most of Lindsey's befuddlement was due to something besides blood loss.
He placed a bandage over the wound and put his hands on Lindsey's face. "Look at me, Lindsey." When he didn't do anything, Wesley squeezed him gently and said, "Open your eyes."
It was a struggle, but eventually, Lindsey got his eyes open. He gazed into Wesley's with an unfocused attention, seeming more to drink him in than really see him.
Wesley inhaled deeply, feeling self-conscious. "Did you drink anything?"
"Angel wanted to drink. So we drinked. A lot."
"And then he bit you."
Lindsey nodded. "Said I was bothering him. How can he go about his business with a lawyer-whore-boy on his tail every night? 'specially if I'm not putting out?"
"Oh, Lindsey," Wesley sighed.
"We got into a fight. I was trying to get him to see reason, but he said that you and Cordy and Gunn would be better without him. That you could carry on the fight alone. Better." He struggled to sit up, weaving slightly as he did.
"Lindsey ..."
"I need to shower."
Wesley exchanged glances with Cordelia, a flush heating his cheeks.
"Don't look at me. I don't help lawyers shower."
"I .... Can you wait? Until morning?"
Lindsey looked at Wesley a moment, eyes becoming more and more unfocused. "I don't feel good."
Wesley closed his eyes briefly and concentrated. Lindsey was ... shaking internally. Quivering.
"Help us up," Wesley said. "Maybe a shower would help."
"I'm not ..."
"Relax, Cordelia, I'll be careful of your virtue." Wesley slung his arm underneath Lindsey's arm and eased him off the couch. "How are you doing, Lindsey?"
"I hate this."
"I don't blame you."
They struggled to the bathroom, Wesley's insides tied in knots. He was completely out of his depth with this. Magic was coursing through him, swirling around both of them, and he was heady with it. And Lindsey ... it was all him. It permeated him, clung to every pore. Wesley could only imagine it was the PTB's influence, that they'd somehow pumped Lindsey full of magic or power or something. Wesley could only hope that Lindsey wasn't showing up on any of Wolfram and Harts radars.
"Turn on the shower, Cordy?" Wesley asked, easing Lindsey onto the toilet. He began unbuttoning Lindsey's shirt, fingers trembling.
"Ewe, wait until I'm gone?" Cordelia asked as she ran the water in the shower.
Wesley shot her a look and slid Lindsey's shirt off him. Lindsey seemed only half conscious, and Wesley was terrified that there was something really wrong with him, more than simply the blood loss and alcohol.
"Did you see your drink being made?" Wesley asked suddenly. He unbuckled Lindsey's trousers.
He blinked. "It was ... yeah. Angel made sure to watch it all the time. It was never ... in anyone's hands." He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Wesley's shoulder.
"It's ready." Cordelia stepped behind Wesley. "Look, the PTB have been really good about telling us stuff, right? So why would they let something happen to him, and not tell me?"
Wesley nodded and rose, hauling Lindsey with him. "Good point." He eased Lindsey's trousers over his hips, then froze. "Perhaps you wish to give us some privacy?"
"Oh. Right." Cordelia opened the door. "Call if you need anything."
"I will. Do me a favor and go somewhere soft, in case you get another vision?"
"I will." She left.
Wesley allowed Lindsey's trousers to fall off, and then eased his legs off. "Come on. Let's get into the shower.
Still leaning heavily against Wesley, Lindsey moved to the shower. "I'm such a fuck up," he said.
"No, you aren't," Wesley said. He stepped into the shower gingerly, and then pulled Lindsey in after him. "This isn't fair. Not to any of us. Cordelia has been comatose since Angel left, you're running around after him nonstop, I'm exhausted." He put his arms around Lindsey and leaned against the wall so Lindsey was being hit by the water. "No, he whispered, stroking Lindsey's naked back. "It's not you."
Lindsey turned his head so his breath caressed Wesley's neck. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"Because you are trying so hard," Wesley said after a moment. "And I can feel how much you want to succeed in your task." He turned his head and gazed into Lindsey's eyes. "It's not just to save your soul."
Lindsey swallowed hard and shook his head. "I don't know what I want."
"You're tired," Wesley said, knowing that Lindsey spoke the truth. That was one of his new virtues, apparently: he wasn't lying. And, really, at this point, it didn't matter *why* Lindsey was trying so desperately to bring Angel back to them. It just mattered that he was doing it.
But he was tired and discouraged. No one could be expected to keep hope with the success rate and pace Lindsey was going. They all needed rest.
And, apparently, it was Wesley's job to give his friends, to give Lindsey, the rest and relief they so desperately needed.
"Hush," he soothed, fingers stroking the hairs at the base of Lindsey's neck. He moved forward slightly until they were both under the spray, not caring that he was still fully closed. "Just relax."
Then, Wesley closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. It'd been so long since he'd done anything like this, and he was frightened. Frightened that he'd already done it once tonight, and frightened of the implications if he was able to do it again. But he had to try. So, he held Lindsey safely in his arms, breathed slowly and steadily, and tried to relax.
The image of a an empty glass formed in Wesley's mind. He focused on it, using his senses to develop it further. It was hard and tall. Thin. The rim was scratched just a little on one said, but otherwise it was perfect. Strong. Cylindrical. And empty.
Wesley began to fill it with water. He poured it in, watching as the water inched slowly up the sides of the glass, spreading out to fill the confines, splashing as a new drop was added every second.
As he imagined the glass being filled, his toes began to tingle. They burned cold, then warm and the warmth spread up to his ankles and calves. His breath quickened and body bloomed. His senses opened until he could feel each drop of water from the showerhead hit his skin, leaving trails of red warmth spreading through him. It crept up his calves, then his thighs, stirred in his crotch. Then his stomach softened, his breathing grew deep and regular and, suddenly, he was full.
He exhaled slowly though his mouth and concentrated on the man in his arms. His own skin seemed to melt and grow fluid, sticking to Lindsey. He imagined Lindsey as an empty glass and focused on filling him.
"Oh," Lindsey gasped, body surging.
Wesley fell back against the shower wall, cradling Lindsey against him. He could feel the magic pulsing around him, filling them both. His head spun and he felt drunk and powerful. He felt like he could fly.
Lindsey's fingers dug into his skin, kneading his arms and back. He was rocking into Wesley, not sexually, not really, but with great need. Soft exhales puffed against Wesley's neck with increasing regularity as their hearts raced.
Suddenly, Lindsey stiffened. A guttural moan escaped his throat, and Wesley ^felt^ the lethargic haze he'd been floating in dissipate. His body was racked with shudders so fierce, Wesley almost dropped him. His arms tightened on Lindsey's slick skin, clinging to him even as his own legs gave out. Wesley fell, taking Lindsey with him. They both hit the shower floor hard.
Moaning loudly, Lindsey jerked once more. Then his body went limp in Wesley's arms.
Heart pounding, Wesley lay back. He was panting for air, trembling in the aftermath. The power was still in him, rushing through his veins until he felt alive. Really alive for the first time in ...
For the first time in years, really.
He had no concept of time, or how long they lay entwined together on the bathroom floor. All Wesley knew was, when he finally came to himself, the shower had been shut off and Lindsey was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the door. A towel was wrapped around him, and his knees were drawn to his chest. He was shivering.
Wesley forced himself to sit up. "How do you feel?" he asked in a rusty voice.
"Okay." Lindsey licked his lips nervously. "What did you do?"
"I tried to make you feel better. By chasing the alcohol out of your system."
"I didn't know you could do that."
He shuddered and offered Lindsey a very weak smile. "Yes, well. Neither did I."
Lindsey's eyes met his, startled and scared. They gazed at each other a moment, silence a heavy question between them. Then Lindsey nodded and lay his head back on his knees.
They didn't speak the rest of the night.
* * *
"Dude, how long was I gone?"
Wesley started awake at the words, jerking slightly. His face connected with something warm and, upon opening his eyes, he found that it was buried in Lindsey's stomach.
He flushed and released the hand that was entwined with his own. Lindsey made a noise of protest, but allowed Wesley to move away.
"Gunn?" Wesley squinted at the blurry figure before him.
"Yeah. What the hell is he doing here?" Gunn asked, sounding both belligerent and curious.
Wesley found his glasses. "He was sent to us by the Powers that Be. Where have you been?"
"With my crew," Gunn answered, frowning. "I figured that after Angel fired us all, that I should go back to them. Because they make sense."
"Then why are you here?"
Gunn shook his head. "I'm not the same; I got used to the way we fight. And I think I can do more good with you. The world isn't so black and white, and my crew is. But not if you're sleeping with the enemy."
Lindsey rose. "I'm not your enemy. Not anymore."
The expression on his face clearly showed the Gunn wasn't buying it. He raised an eyebrow and stared hard at Lindsey, until he squirmed. "I'm not," Lindsey insisted. "I was contacted by the Powers that Be and told to get Angel back." He rubbed his neck, wincing when it brushed against his bandage. "Not that I'm having any luck."
"He is trying." Wesley stood as well. "Cordelia has been having an average of three visions a day. She can hardly get out of bed. All her visions are about Angel, so Lindsey goes to where Angel is while I take care of her."
Gunn looked at Lindsey and frowned. "Did he bite you?"
Wesley glanced at Lindsey, who touched the bandage on his neck self-consciously.
"Yeah," he said softly, sounding ashamed.
With a soft sigh, Wesley reached out and put his hand on the back of Lindsey's neck. He massaged the overly tight muscles there soothingly, trying to will Lindsey back to calmness. His mind ^opened^ automatically, and Wesley allowed the excess power that flowed into him to seep into Lindsey.
"Angel's a little out of control, Gunn," Wesley said, still massaging Lindsey's neck. "And last night wasn't easy for Lindsey. This is the third time Angel has greeted him with physical injury, and yet he goes back."
"So do masochists," Gunn said, but he grimaced when Wesley fixed him with a glare. "Look, I'm sorry, dude, but ... the past few weeks have been a little weird."
Lindsey snorted. "Tell me about it. Look, I'm going to go take a shower," he said to Wesley.
Wesley studied him a moment before closing his eyes. He breathed deeply and concentrated, trying to ^feel^ Lindsey's mood and body through magic. This, again, was something his body was familiar with, even if he felt out of practice. It had been years since he'd used these skills, but instead of being rough or awkward, it was easy. At least, with Lindsey it was easy. It shouldn't have been this way, but it was.
"Very well," he finally said, pushing the memory of the shower they'd taken together the night before away. "But call if you need anything."
"Yeah, okay." Lindsey pulled away, glanced at Gunn, and then left.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Gunn asked as soon as Lindsey was gone.
Wesley took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You were gone and I didn't know when you were coming back. I also didn't have a contact number, and since I've been too afraid to leave Cordelia, I ..."
"No," Gunn interrupted impatiently. "I mean why didn't you tell me you were gay?"
Startled, he opened his eyes and looked at Gunn. "What ... What .... Where did that come from?"
Gunn smiled condescendingly and shook his head. "Dude, it's *so* obvious. You're, like, falling in love with that guy, and I'm just wondering why you never let me know that, well. You know. You're into dudes."
Wesley swallowed. "I'm not .... Well, I am .... Well, I .... Sort of. I like both men and women, but I'm with Virginia. I'm not ... falling in love with him. Lindsey."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not," Wesley said crisply. "If anything, I'm in love with Angel. And as for not telling you, I didn't see how it was any of your business."
Gunn was silent a moment before shrugging. "Okay, you're right. I agree, and if we were just coworkers, yeah, it'd be none of my business." He shrugged again and looked at Wesley calmly. "But I like to think that we're some kind of friends too. And maybe start actually being better friends. Anyway, now that I know, I want you to know I'm cool with it. There's enough crazy shit in the world, and I don't see any reason to be harping on anyone because of who they love."
Wesley was at a loss for words, but he did manage to find, "Thank you," and whisper it.
"It's cool," Gunn responded. He held out his hand to Wesley, who took it.
Gunn did some sort of complicated handshake that Wesley was hard pressed to keep up with; when it was over, Gunn held on and said, "Wes, you've *never* looked at Angel the way you just looked at Lindsey. And you've never, I don't know. Glowed or whatever." He shrugged again. "As long as Lindsey isn't evil, I think it'd be good for you. Better than Angel."
"Well, thank you," Wesley said doubtfully, "but I can assure you that I am *not* in love with him. Nor am I falling in love. That was ... the beginning of a friendship. Building of trust."
Again, Gunn smiled that condescending, amused half-smile of his and said, "Sure, Wes. We'll see."
* * *
The visions reduced to one a day. And even they seemed more out of formality than anything else. Angel had confined himself to the Hyperion, only leaving to knock over blood delivery trucks. For the life of him, Lindsey didn't see why the PTB would be concerned about that ...
Unless they'd already gotten what they wanted, he thought, looking at Wesley speculatively. Unless chasing Angel was only to keep what they'd wanted happy.
"This is stupid," he finally said.
Gunn and Wesley looked up from the game of RISK they were playing.
"What is?" Wesley asked.
"This. Waiting here, holed up, nothing happening. Having Cordelia have vision after useless vision while we fucking do nothing."
"What do you suggest?" Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"I think we should go to Angel."
"I'm there," Gunn said, rising.
Wesley didn't look convinced. "I don't know. Walking into the lion's den like that may not accomplish anything. You've already been hurt."
"And I know he's not going to kill me," he countered. "Look, I've tried everything else. I can't watch Cordelia needlessly suffer, and I can't sit around and not do anything anymore."
Cordelia nodded. "He's right. It's time to stop sitting around like cry-Buffy's and smack some sense into Angel." She rose from her seat. "Let's go."
Lindsey swallowed and shook his head. "I didn't mean .... I'm fine with going alone."
But Wesley shook his head, those beautifully soulful eyes on him. "We're a team, Lindsey." He looked at Cordelia and Gunn for confirmation.
They both nodded. "We're all in this together," Cordelia said. "So don't try to leave us behind.
He looked helplessly from one to the other. They were determined.
"Fine," he finally said, resigned. "We go in together."
* * *
"Get out, all of you."
"No, Angel," Cordelia said firmly. "This needs to stop. You need to get over this."
Angel appeared, leaning on the banister. "This is my home and you are not invited in."
"Fuck you, Angel," said Wesley.
Everyone looked at him in surprise. Angel looked most surprised. For a full minute, he did nothing but look at Wesley, shock etched across his face. Their eyes battled, Wesley's fierce, Angel's confused, and, finally, Angel managed to say, "Excuse me?"
Wesley inhaled deeply, heart pounding. "I said 'fuck you.'" he repeated. His voice barely trembled, but Lindsey could hear it on the edge of his words. "This was our home, too. We were a family before you decided to fire us. Before you betrayed us."
"I only did what I had to do. To protect you from me."
Gunn snorted. "Protect us? Protect yourself, maybe. Act like a selfish moron without us around, yeah. It doesn't have anything to do with us."
"Angel, we were worried about you," Cordelia said. "We still are. Pushing away hurt us more. Protect us? Ok, so you haven't hurt us physically, but we've still suffered. The PTB keeps sending me visions, and you're beating up on Lindsey. Wesley had to take care of both of us alone until Gunn came back. It's not fair."
"I'm sorry about the fucking Powers that Be. I have no control over them. But I still don't get what Lindsey is getting out of all of this." His angry eyes turned. "Why are you here?"
Lindsey stepped up next to Wesley. "I've been charged to save you. And, despite my past, I take that seriously. I want ... I want to help you, the way you tried to help me, once."
"Tried and failed."
"You didn't fail. I did."
The words hung in the air between them. He felt distant from it all, and very, very small.
Then Wesley put his hand on Lindsey's neck. Magic ^breathed^ into him, and when Angel finally laughed mockingly, he was able to withstand it without flinching.
The vampire descended the stairs in a slow, loping gate. "Okay. You failed. And now, you're here why? Because the Powers That Be think I'll listen to you? Why you, Lindsey? Why?" He was at the foot of the stairs now, and he approached Lindsey menacingly, like a lion stalking its prey.
Lindsey forced himself to remain where he was.
"Why should I listen to you? What have the Powers ever done for me, hmm? I tried to do it their way. I was out there. I let the visions guide me, allowed myself to care, and for what? Nothing. I do everything for them, but the moment I want something, it doesn't matter. I don't get my way. And then, the moment I screw up, they turn their back on me." He leaned into Lindsey, allowing his superior height and build to force Lindsey back a step. "So tell me, Lin. Why should I listen to a think they--or you--say?"
Wesley exhaled hard, fingers tightening on Lindsey's neck. Lindsey could tell Angel had noticed, was wondering, but he kept his eyes focused on Lindsey.
Lindsey swallowed and tilted his chin up. "You screwed up, but the Powers haven't turned their back on you." He licked his lips and said, "They sent me."
Angel's eyes hardened and he leered at Lindsey, raking his eyes over his body. "You. A fallen angel. A lawyer no better than a demon." He shook his head. "You're worse than I am, my boy."
Lindsey felt his heart contract with fear and pain. Angel was right; who was he? A lawyer, a good one, with a dirty soul. Why had he been chosen? Why not Wesley? Why not someone who was clean?
"Because none of them can understand him. He wouldn't listen to anyone who hasn't fallen, and Wesley hasn't. You have," Doyle's voice whispered in his ear.
"What can I do?" Lindsey breathed.
"Talk. It's what you do best. I'll give you the words."
Suddenly, a great force entered Lindsey. Opening his mouth, words began pouring out. "Where were you when we laid the/earth's foundations?/Tell me, since you are so well-informed!/" His voice echoed off the walls of the Hyperion.
Angel flinched and backed up. His body coiled in on himself for a moment, as if Lindsey's words hit him painfully. Then he shook them off and frowned.
Next to him, Wesley let go. He seemed to be in pain, or overwhelmed, and Lindsey wanted nothing more than to reach out and help him, but he couldn't. The words kept coming. "Who decided its dimensions, do you/know? Or who stretched the measuring/ line across it? Have you ever in you life given/orders to the morning/or sent the dawn to its post/to grasp the earth by its edges and shake the wicked out of it? Have you an inkling of the extent of/ the earth?/ Tell me about it if you have! Is it your wisdom that ..." Abruptly, Lindsey broke off.
Angel was looking at him as if he'd grown another head. And that head was the head belonging to the village idiot.
"Ok, I can see you're not buying it." Lindsey said, feeling stupid. But, then, those hadn't been his words. They'd been the words of beings who were so out of touch with what was really going on, they expected not to be understood.
But they'd chosen him because he *did* understand.
He took a deep breath, the otherworldly power fading. "Angel, this isn't you," he said, softly, but intensely. "Yes, you were tested and were royally fucked. But this... you can't last like this. You're going to kill yourself and then never get any chance to be with anyone you love ever again. You are only alive when you fight and you care. Even I know that."
"You were never in it for the reward, Angel," Wesley put in.
Angel looked at him.
"You weren't. The Shanshu prophecy .... It gave you hope, it didn't guide your actions. You do what you do because you know it's right. It's what you were born for."
"You're a Warrior," Lindsey added. "Chosen by the Powers that Be, but you're a warrior for the fallen. For the hopeless, the helpless. *They* are your cause. Not the PTB. They can go fuck themselves for all I care. For all *you* care. You still do what's right. Because it's right."
Angel closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's too hard. It's too .... Your lives would all ..."
"Our lives would be the same, even without you," Cordelia interrupted. "Only I'd be dead, Wesley might be dead, Gunn would ... be dead, and Lindsey ..."
"I'd be incomplete," he said, eyes on Wesley.
Angel snorted, bringing Lindsey's attention back to him. "I didn't know you cared."
Lindsey flushed and ducked his head. "I'd be an empty, immoral lawyer with no purpose. Damned for all time. At least with you around, I can imagine a world worth fighting for."
"Besides," Doyle said.
There was a collective gasp and Angel froze, eyes wide.
Lindsey turned to see the ghost standing just behind him. His luminous eyes were on Angel, and he gazed at Angel with something that was more than love. Something that made Lindsey look at Wesley again, throat tight.
"Doyle," Angel managed in a strangled voice.
Doyle's smile softened. "Hey. Miss me?"
Wordless, Angel nodded.
Doyle looked at Cordelia. "Hello, Princess."
Her eyes were wet with tears, and all she could do was offer a wobbly smile.
He turned back to Angel, face serious. "Angel, I died so you could carry on the good fight. And it is a good fight, whether or not you agree with those in charge. I know I never did. But it was worth it." He lowered his eyes and smiled ruefully. "It was all worth it."
"But you're dead," Angel said in a strangled voice.
"And you're not. And the world still needs you, just like your prophet said."
Angel mouthed the word prophet and looked at Lindsey.
His face warmed, and he shrugged.
"Don't play their game, man," Doyle said. "Do it however you think it needs to be done. Fight the fight your way. But fight it."
"Doyle, I..." Angel began, but his voice cracked.
Doyle smiled, eyes so heartbreakingly sad that Lindsey ached. "I know, Angel. I know." Then, he faded, leaving the members of Angel Investigations alone to the fight.
I'm still working (slowly) on the rest of the fic. And I'm working on COTW 44, which the first draft might be done. It's not very plot-heavy, and it didn't go the way I intended, but I think the stuff I wanted to put in this fic is best left for another fic. So it'll either be 1 or 2 fics before I get to Visage. I can't wait for that one. *eg*
Prologue
Winter 2000/2001
Lindsey was pressed into the corner of what once had been a wine cellar. Five hours ago, he'd arrived ready for a party with his co-workers. Five hours... a lifetime ago. And what had been a wine cellar now was a prison, and he was one of three prisoners left alive. He knew it wouldn't last much longer; Darla and Drusilla had been slowly killing his co-workers all night, and very soon it would be his turn.
And Lindsey just couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't care about anything anymore: not his career, not his few friends, not anything. Most especially not his live. Lindsey was bored. He was hungry and tired. But he wasn't afraid. Death... life had no meaning to him and all he could do was sit in his corner and wait. Wait for death that hadn't yet come.
It was surprising. Not that he wasn't dead yet; he had figured that Darla would wait to kill him until after everyone else was dead. Lindsey, after all, had been the one who actually loved her. And Darla, being the cold blooded vampire that she was, would want to exploit that love and make his final death all that more painful. So he wasn't surprised he wasn't dead. Lindsey was surprised that he what he wanted more than anything wasn't to be turned and wasn't to be taken as Darla's mate. The surprise was that Lindsey wanted to die.
Death wasn't something that Lindsey had ever really thought about, but now that it was staring him in the face, he realized that he'd been craving it for a long time.
He wanted peace from the world.
Darla stirred. "Drusilla, darling, please shut those two up," she said languidly.
Half asleep, Drusilla rose. "Good night, my dollies," she murmured, snapping the last two lawyer's necks.
There sobs turned to screams before both were silenced.
"Thank you," Darla sighed. She opened her eyes and looked over at Lindsey. "Hello, gorgeous," she purred.
He offered her a small smile.
"You're still not scared, are you?"
"No," he answered honestly.
She frowned. "You're not. And you should be. You have no idea what I'm going to do to you, Lindsey. Or do you think I'm going to turn you." Looking suddenly pleased with herself, Darla rose and began wandering around the room. "What do you think, Drusilla? Does the lovely little lawyer think that I'm going to turn him?"
"No," Drusilla replied sadly. "This bad boy hopes you kill him. He longs for death because he's incomplete. There's a part of him missing."
Darla whirled around, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Drusilla rose and went to Lindsey. Caressing him gently, she said, "There's a light that shines in this one. All pure and pretty. But so lonely. Lost. It can't find what it needs. They were torn apart, and this one feels it. He yearns, so he wants a new start. It wants a new form."
"What does?" Darla's voice was intense now, her entire body tight, eyes bright with interest.
"It glows," Drusilla said again, her eyes sliding close. "Glows with life and ..." Abruptly, Drusilla stiffened. Her eyes went wide, mouth forming into a perfect "o" of surprise before she disintegrated. Her dust scattered around them, falling onto Lindsey.
"Ah," he said, startled, flinched back. His eyes snapped to Darla, looking for an explanation.
She was frowning, looking equally confused. "What the hell?" she demanded, turning around.
And then she let out a startled scream, her body jerking back. Lindsey half-heartedly reached out to her, but it was too late. Darla crumbled to dust before his eyes and was gone.
"What the fuck!" Lindsey leapt to his feet, heart pounding with fear.
There was a ghost standing where Darla had just been. He was short with dark hair, blue-green eyes, and pale, translucent skin. He gazed up at Lindsey seriously, hands in the pockets of his jacket.
"Who are you?" gasped Lindsey.
"My names Doyle. You're Lindsey McDonald, and you are in trouble," the ghost replied.
Confused, Lindsey shook his head. "I'm in trouble. What else is new?"
"The Powers that Be are not happy with you. In fact, they're pretty pissed, and it is never a good idea to get on their bad side. You've ruined everything. It was bad enough when you just worked for the darker forces, but now you've crossed the line. Because of you, the Warrior has been taken off his path. So you're going to get him back."
Lindsey rubbed his forehead. "I'm going to get your Warrior back. Who do you... Oh. Angel." Recognition dawned. "You were Angel's partner."
"Before I died, yes. Now, consider me the ghost of Christmas Past, Present,
and Future." He smiled, looking amused at his own joke. "You are being charged with a duty and that duty is to save Angel's soul before he is lost completely."
"Why should I do that?" he asked scornfully. "I don't give a fuck about Angel, or the Powers that Be,or you."
Doyle stepped closer. "You want to die because you're tired of this life. You want released. I've got news for you, pal, death doesn't equal release. If you were to die right now, you'd go straight to hell, and I don't mean figuratively.
Despite himself, Lindsey shivered. "If I was afraid of that, I'd never have agreed to work for Wolfram and Hart. I knew what I was getting into."
"And now you have a chance to get out of it. Look, you may think you know what hell is, but you don't. It's worse than you can imagine."
"I doubt that."
Doyle reached out and touched Lindsey's arm.
A pain lanced through Lindsey that sent him to his knees. It felt as if he were being ripped apart, one muscle at a time. A thousand bright hot points of pain drove into every nerve. His brain expanded, exploded, contracted; his stomach heaved and twisted. Never before had he even imagined such agony. He couldn't think of anything except the pain, he couldn't breath, couldn't cry, couldn't scream, couldn't escape. He was trapped.
And then it was over. Lindsey fell to the floor, gasping, tears rolling down
his face.
"That's what it's like, over and over," Doyle told him, his voice low and intense. "You are trapped in that moment until the Powers decided otherwise. There is no getting used to it, no dulling from overload, no getting away. You could be there for one day or one century; you could be there until the end of time. And that will be all you will ever know. Nothing else matters, not even what comfort and splendor you lived in on earth. You can't remember it in hell. It's gone. All you know is the pain. So tell me, Lindsey McDonald: is it worth it?"
"No," Lindsey was able to gasp out. "How .... I can't go there. I can't ..." He broke off coughing as he fought not to throw up.
"Then save Angel. Bring him back to his path. Remind him of the reasons he took up the fight in the first place."
His stomach settled, Lindsey pushing himself into a sitting position, looking up at Doyle. "Angel hates me. I don't think there's anything I can do to make him listen to me."
Doyle crouched next to him. "Find him. He's disillusioned and angry, but not lost yet. He needs a reason to believe."
"I won't know what to say."
"When the time comes, the words will come, Prophet." Doyle touched him again, only this time the pain and fear faded, replaced by calm and a sense of duty. "Go in peace."
The doors of the shelter flew open and the ghost disappeared.
"Oh God," Lindsey gasped, calm fleeing and replaced with fear born by the idea
the near impossibility of his task.
* * *
"How do you feel?" Wesley asked, bringing Cordelia a glass of ice water.
"Like I've just had five visions within a half hour," she snapped back. Then
she sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. It just hurts so much." Tears
were in her voice, sliding down her cheeks.
"I know." He lifted her head gently, bringing the glass to her lips.
"It's not just from the visions," she corrected after taking a sip. "It's everything. I thought... I thought we were a family, you know? We were doing
okay. It was hard, but worth it. God, Wes, nothing had ever made me feel so
good about myself than helping people. It mattered. And I thought it mattered
to him too; was I wrong?"
Wesley stroked her hair gently, his heart aching. "No, you weren't. He was simply pushed too far and it broke him."
"Why weren't we enough to save him?" was her anguished reply.
He could think of no answer.
There was a sudden pounding on the door. Cordelia and Wesley exchanged looks.
"Gunn?" she said hopefully.
Gunn had stormed out into the world angrily after being summarily dismissed from Angel's employment the previous evening. He'd been so angry that he was unwilling to even talk to either Wesley or Cordelia. In between her visions, Cordelia had been anxiously watching the phone and the door, hoping for some word from him.
A faint hope filled Wesley's heart as he rose and went to the door. "Perhaps," he said before he opened it.
His face fell, stomach twisting in trepidation when he saw who it was. "Not Gunn," he said stonily.
"Do you have any idea where Angel is?" an extremely disheveled Lindsey asked
breathlessly.
Wesley was attempting to think of an appropriately derogatory reply when there
was a crash from the other room and Cordelia cried out in pain.
Forgetting about the lawyer on the doorstep, Wesley rushed into the apartment. He was peripherally aware that Lindsey was following him, but ignored that fact, intent on helping Cordelia.
"I've got you, I've got you," Wesley soothed, cradling Cordelia in his arms as
she was forced through a vision.
"He's killed a girl! No, he's going to kill her. Oh God, Wes, he's going to ..." she choked out as the vision faded.
"When and where?" demanded Lindsey.
"Tonight at "Rob's Place", a bar on Hollywood Boulevard," Cordelia answered, not noticing to whom she was speaking.
"Any more specific on the time?"
"Around eight."
Wesley grabbed Lindsey around the wrist, fingers digging into the sports coat. "What are you planning to do?" he demanded.
Lindsey gazed unflinchingly at Wesley's accusing eyes. "The Powers That Be want
me to save him. I have to."
"What?"
Cordelia frowned. "What's going on?"
Lindsey took a deep breath, his eyes fastened into Wesley's. "They sent me a messenger. A ghost of Angel's old partner, Doyle. He told me I have to save Angel, and I'm going to. I have to."
"Why should we trust you?" Wesley asked.
He shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. "I don't think you have to. They already do." He looked down at Cordelia, who had closed her eyes against the pain. "What's going on with her?"
"She's been having visions of what Angel has done, is doing, and will do. They
started around noon and have been coming with increasing frequency."
"They hurt?"
"Very much."
Lindsey pulled his arm away and reached into his jacket pocket. "Here, this is my cell phone number. Call me next time she has a vision so I know where to find him. I'm going to stop him, I swear. Just ... just in case."
Wesley took Lindsey's card, their fingers brushing as he did so. A jolt went through him, the type he experienced whenever he performed magic. It made his breath catch in his throat, eyes going wide as he gazed through Lindsey though new, suddenly speculative eyes.
Lindsey was filled with magical power. Clean power, not anything Wolfram and Hart could do. Perhaps he was telling the truth.
"I will be forced to take action should you be lying to me," Wesley said, his voice hard.
Lindsey nodded. "Don't worry; I'm not."
* * *
"Angel."
Angel turned away from the girl he had pinned to the wall. His eyes were wild and unfocused, shirt torn open and untucked, obvious erection pressing against the black leather pants. From where he stood, Lindsey could smell the alcohol Angel had consumed.
When he saw who had addressed him, Angel visible brightened and released the girl. "Lindsey McDonald. It's good to see you, my boy. What are you doing here? Where are the girls?" He glanced around the alley as if expecting them to appear.
"They're dead. Angel, come with me. We need to talk." Lindsey's heart was
pounding in fear as he faced the drunken vampire. He had no idea what he was
doing or what he was supposed to say.
"Hey! He's with me!" the girl protested, stepping away from the wall. She grabbed Angel's arm possessively.
Angel pushed her away hard. "Go 'way." He walked over to Lindsey. "What do you
want?"
Feeling foolish, he said the first thing to come to mind. "To save you."
The vampire started laughing. "Save me? Oh, that's good. I like that one.
Tell me another." He leaned close, trapping Lindsey against the wall.
"No, really. The Powers that-"
"Fuck them," Angel cut him off. "Fuck The Powers That Fucking Be. Fuck them.
Got it? I don't care. They ... they take everything from you. My life, my soul, Buffy, Doyle, Darla. I'm not doing it anymore."
"Angel, you don't mean that. You ..."
"Yes I do." Angel was suddenly completely sober, his eyes cold and dead. The eyes of a demon bore into Lindsey. "Since when do you work for the Powers
anyway, Lindsey? Since when are you concerned with saving anybody? You're
a hot shot lawyer at Wolfram and Hart, the firm created by the darker forces.
Why are you here?" He pressed his body against Lindsey's, rubbing slowly against him.
Heart pounding in his throat, muscles so tight it was physically painful, Lindsey whispered, "I was sent by the ..."
"Shut up! Shut up!" Angel slammed Lindsey into the wall. "Shut. Up." He ran his eyes over Lindsey's body, then reached down, undoing the top button of Lindsey's pants.
He flinched and began to tremble, but pressed his lips together. He couldn't say anthing. He had to save Angel, no matter what the cost. The alternative was unacceptable.
Angel stopped, his hand resting on Lindsey's stomach, fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear. Lindsey forced himself not to look away, instead to meet the dark eyes squarely and with as little fear as possible.
Well, at least meet Angel's eyes.
"Fuck," Angel said after a long moment. He redid Lindsey's pants and swept away in a flurry of movement.
Legs giving out on him, Lindsey slumped to the ground. He was shaking, tears threatening with ever breath.
He'd failed. Now he was damned.
* * *
"You're still here," Wesley said, reluctant relief evident in his tone.
Surprised, Lindsey looked up. "Yeah," he said, dully. "How'd you find me?"
"Cordelia had a vision." Wesley offered his hand to help Lindsey up. "You look
like you could use a drink."
Warily, Lindsey allowed the other man to pull him to his feet. "I failed."
"No, you didn't. The Powers told Delia in her vision that you've made a start,
but you can't give up. They told her that you are working your way towards
redemption just as Angel is."
"After giving me a taste of what damnation will feel like. It wasn't much of a
choice.
"Still, they showed you what would happen. That was kind of them."
"Do you believe me?" Lindsey asked, allowing himself to hope.
Wesley led Lindsey into the bar and ushered him to a seat at the bar. After ordering two drinks, he turned back to Lindsey. "I don't know. I don't
know what to believe or not to believe anymore. Two days ago, Angel was a
partner, a friend. Now, he's fired me from both positions, I assume, and is on this rampage. You, who were my enemy, are suddenly the best shot at getting him
back. I don't know what to believe or even think anymore."
Lindsey sighed and rested his head against his arm. "I know what you mean."
The two men fell silent. After a moment, their drinks were placed in front of them. Lindsey raised his head and downed his in a few quick swallows before gesturing for more.
"You know I wanted him?" he said suddenly. "From the first moment he walked
into my life, I wanted him so badly. He was gorgeous, strong. I used to
fantasize about how it would happen. He'd come to me, I'd go to him. I thought about offering myself to him that time he helped me. After I went back to the firm, I had rape fantasies about him, imagining he'd punish me for betraying him. Then tonight..." Lindsey downed his drink. "I was so fucking scared. He was pressing against me, and he was hard and I know he's stronger then me. Then he, he reached for me and I could see what he wanted, what he planned to do to me and I realized I didn't want it to be like that. I've been... forced before, but it was different. It was Angel." He swallowed hard. "I don't think I would have been able to take it, not from him."
Wesley's eyes bore into the side of his face. Lindsey couldn't look at him, but he was certain he was being judged.
"He has great power over you," Wesley finally said, voice calm.
"Yes."
Wesley sighed. "He didn't do it, though."
"No."
"Then he may still be saved."
Lindsey nodded, then glanced at his companion. "Do you love him?"
There as a guarded pause, as if Wesley were considering the intent of the question.
"I just ... I've always wondered about you two," Lindsey added awkwardly. "You ... sometimes look at him. And you're so devoted. It's none of my business; I just wondered."
Wesley licked his bottom lip in a gesture Lindsey found charming, and exhaled slowly. "Yes," he answered quietly. "I do."
Lindsey looked away, strangely disappointed. Still, he needed Wesley to trust him, so he said, "I swear I'll save him." He turned back, gazing at Wesley earnestly.
"Why? Is it simply because of being damned otherwise?"
"No. I thought I wanted death, but all I want is to be clean, for once in my
life, just to be clean. Angel is part of that, I've always known. You want
something for so long, even when you pretend you don't, so when suddenly your
salvation is staring you in the face, you know what it is. I was scared. It
scares me because it's the harder choice; it means never resting, always
fighting and struggling. But it's what I want, they showed me that. I need to
save Angel because he's so bound up in it all. We all need him, you know, even
The Powers That Be."
"Yes, we all do."
* * *
Wesley had just pulled the covers over Cordelia when he stomach knotted. "Ah," he gasped, falling to his knees.
Cordelia forced herself up. "Wes? What is it?"
He panted as his insides twisted. His heart began to pound, and was ... overwhelmed.
"Wesley? Wesley!"
He couldn't answer as he sank to the floor. Pain and anguish overwhelmed him. His forehead pressed into the hardwood beneath him, and darkness rushed over him,
"No, Wes, don't do this to me," Cordelia begged. She was next to him now, arms around him, holding him tightly. "Please, Wesley, don't."
The pain receded minutely, enough to give Wesley some control. "Sorry," he grunted, forcing his concentration inward. It'd been a long time since he'd felt assaulted by magic, and he was out of his element. However, years of training eventually kicked in, and Wesley ^opened^ his mind. Inhaling deeply, he titled his head back and allowed the elements to enter him. He felt his blood vessels expand, his heart slow, and the twisting pain fade away.
And then he knew what was going on.
He opened his eyes. "Lindsey."
Cordelia was looking at him, mouth hanging open. "Wes," she said, voice steady for the first time in days. "You're glowing. And your eyes ..."
He avoided her eyes as he answered, "Cordelia, you're tired, I ..."
"No, I'm not tired. Not anymore." She put her hand to her head. "I feel fine." She said the last wonderingly, eyes bright for the first time in days.
Fear twisted Wesley's stomach, but he pushed it away. He couldn't think about it now, wouldn't examine what he'd done. He couldn't ...
"I need to .... Lindsey's in trouble." Frightened, he left the room and went to find Lindsey.
He was in the elevator, slumped and half-conscious. There was a bite mark on his neck, and blood oozed from it slowly.
"Lindsey," Wesley gasped. He fell to his knees in front of him. "What happened?" He touched Lindsey's sweat-slicked forehead.
Foggy blue eyes opened, and Lindsey's lips curved. "Hey, gorgeous. I didn't know you could glow."
Ignoring him, Wesley said, "He bit you?" He felt shock. Yes, Angel had been acting strangely since this began, but to bite a human. To bite Lindsey ....
"I feel good," Lindsey said, head lolling to the side.
"Is he high?" Cordelia asked, coming up from behind.
Wesley nodded. "A little. The loss of blood, combined with whatever he drank, and the stress levels." He slid his arm under Lindsey's shoulder, shuddering at the sheer amount of energy pulsating inside Lindsey. Once the euphoria faded, he would be nearly impossible to deal with. "Help me?"
Cordelia knelt on the other side of Lindsey. "Count of three."
"One, two." They lifted Lindsey and, stumbling, led him back to Cordy's apartment.
"Hey, you're up," Lindsey slurred, laying his head on Cordelia's shoulder.
She smiled tightly. "It's a miracle. Apparently Wes had been holding out on us." She twisted as they maneuvered him through the door and into the living room. "Denis? First-aid kit?"
Lindsey fell onto the couch, eyes closed. "I feel sick," he whispered.
"No, no, and no, you are not getting sick on my couch!" Cordelia snapped.
"Cordy," Wesley murmured. He knelt at Lindsey's side and caressed his feverish face once more. "Lindsey, look at me."
"I'm tired."
"How much did he take? Angel?"
Blue eyes peered through eyelashes at Wesley. "Pretty," he sighed.
"He's useless," Cordelia said flatly.
Wesley nodded. "I concur. Ah, thank you, Denis." He took the first aid kit from the invisible hands and opened it. Inside was one of the most complex and complete box of supplies outside of a hospital or Giles' office back in Sunnydale. "Lindsey? I'm going to clean the wound now."
"Okay." He titled his head to the side to give Wesley access.
The wound cleaned easily enough and seemed to have stopped bleeding. It also didn't appear to be very deep, so Wesley decided most of Lindsey's befuddlement was due to something besides blood loss.
He placed a bandage over the wound and put his hands on Lindsey's face. "Look at me, Lindsey." When he didn't do anything, Wesley squeezed him gently and said, "Open your eyes."
It was a struggle, but eventually, Lindsey got his eyes open. He gazed into Wesley's with an unfocused attention, seeming more to drink him in than really see him.
Wesley inhaled deeply, feeling self-conscious. "Did you drink anything?"
"Angel wanted to drink. So we drinked. A lot."
"And then he bit you."
Lindsey nodded. "Said I was bothering him. How can he go about his business with a lawyer-whore-boy on his tail every night? 'specially if I'm not putting out?"
"Oh, Lindsey," Wesley sighed.
"We got into a fight. I was trying to get him to see reason, but he said that you and Cordy and Gunn would be better without him. That you could carry on the fight alone. Better." He struggled to sit up, weaving slightly as he did.
"Lindsey ..."
"I need to shower."
Wesley exchanged glances with Cordelia, a flush heating his cheeks.
"Don't look at me. I don't help lawyers shower."
"I .... Can you wait? Until morning?"
Lindsey looked at Wesley a moment, eyes becoming more and more unfocused. "I don't feel good."
Wesley closed his eyes briefly and concentrated. Lindsey was ... shaking internally. Quivering.
"Help us up," Wesley said. "Maybe a shower would help."
"I'm not ..."
"Relax, Cordelia, I'll be careful of your virtue." Wesley slung his arm underneath Lindsey's arm and eased him off the couch. "How are you doing, Lindsey?"
"I hate this."
"I don't blame you."
They struggled to the bathroom, Wesley's insides tied in knots. He was completely out of his depth with this. Magic was coursing through him, swirling around both of them, and he was heady with it. And Lindsey ... it was all him. It permeated him, clung to every pore. Wesley could only imagine it was the PTB's influence, that they'd somehow pumped Lindsey full of magic or power or something. Wesley could only hope that Lindsey wasn't showing up on any of Wolfram and Harts radars.
"Turn on the shower, Cordy?" Wesley asked, easing Lindsey onto the toilet. He began unbuttoning Lindsey's shirt, fingers trembling.
"Ewe, wait until I'm gone?" Cordelia asked as she ran the water in the shower.
Wesley shot her a look and slid Lindsey's shirt off him. Lindsey seemed only half conscious, and Wesley was terrified that there was something really wrong with him, more than simply the blood loss and alcohol.
"Did you see your drink being made?" Wesley asked suddenly. He unbuckled Lindsey's trousers.
He blinked. "It was ... yeah. Angel made sure to watch it all the time. It was never ... in anyone's hands." He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Wesley's shoulder.
"It's ready." Cordelia stepped behind Wesley. "Look, the PTB have been really good about telling us stuff, right? So why would they let something happen to him, and not tell me?"
Wesley nodded and rose, hauling Lindsey with him. "Good point." He eased Lindsey's trousers over his hips, then froze. "Perhaps you wish to give us some privacy?"
"Oh. Right." Cordelia opened the door. "Call if you need anything."
"I will. Do me a favor and go somewhere soft, in case you get another vision?"
"I will." She left.
Wesley allowed Lindsey's trousers to fall off, and then eased his legs off. "Come on. Let's get into the shower.
Still leaning heavily against Wesley, Lindsey moved to the shower. "I'm such a fuck up," he said.
"No, you aren't," Wesley said. He stepped into the shower gingerly, and then pulled Lindsey in after him. "This isn't fair. Not to any of us. Cordelia has been comatose since Angel left, you're running around after him nonstop, I'm exhausted." He put his arms around Lindsey and leaned against the wall so Lindsey was being hit by the water. "No, he whispered, stroking Lindsey's naked back. "It's not you."
Lindsey turned his head so his breath caressed Wesley's neck. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"Because you are trying so hard," Wesley said after a moment. "And I can feel how much you want to succeed in your task." He turned his head and gazed into Lindsey's eyes. "It's not just to save your soul."
Lindsey swallowed hard and shook his head. "I don't know what I want."
"You're tired," Wesley said, knowing that Lindsey spoke the truth. That was one of his new virtues, apparently: he wasn't lying. And, really, at this point, it didn't matter *why* Lindsey was trying so desperately to bring Angel back to them. It just mattered that he was doing it.
But he was tired and discouraged. No one could be expected to keep hope with the success rate and pace Lindsey was going. They all needed rest.
And, apparently, it was Wesley's job to give his friends, to give Lindsey, the rest and relief they so desperately needed.
"Hush," he soothed, fingers stroking the hairs at the base of Lindsey's neck. He moved forward slightly until they were both under the spray, not caring that he was still fully closed. "Just relax."
Then, Wesley closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. It'd been so long since he'd done anything like this, and he was frightened. Frightened that he'd already done it once tonight, and frightened of the implications if he was able to do it again. But he had to try. So, he held Lindsey safely in his arms, breathed slowly and steadily, and tried to relax.
The image of a an empty glass formed in Wesley's mind. He focused on it, using his senses to develop it further. It was hard and tall. Thin. The rim was scratched just a little on one said, but otherwise it was perfect. Strong. Cylindrical. And empty.
Wesley began to fill it with water. He poured it in, watching as the water inched slowly up the sides of the glass, spreading out to fill the confines, splashing as a new drop was added every second.
As he imagined the glass being filled, his toes began to tingle. They burned cold, then warm and the warmth spread up to his ankles and calves. His breath quickened and body bloomed. His senses opened until he could feel each drop of water from the showerhead hit his skin, leaving trails of red warmth spreading through him. It crept up his calves, then his thighs, stirred in his crotch. Then his stomach softened, his breathing grew deep and regular and, suddenly, he was full.
He exhaled slowly though his mouth and concentrated on the man in his arms. His own skin seemed to melt and grow fluid, sticking to Lindsey. He imagined Lindsey as an empty glass and focused on filling him.
"Oh," Lindsey gasped, body surging.
Wesley fell back against the shower wall, cradling Lindsey against him. He could feel the magic pulsing around him, filling them both. His head spun and he felt drunk and powerful. He felt like he could fly.
Lindsey's fingers dug into his skin, kneading his arms and back. He was rocking into Wesley, not sexually, not really, but with great need. Soft exhales puffed against Wesley's neck with increasing regularity as their hearts raced.
Suddenly, Lindsey stiffened. A guttural moan escaped his throat, and Wesley ^felt^ the lethargic haze he'd been floating in dissipate. His body was racked with shudders so fierce, Wesley almost dropped him. His arms tightened on Lindsey's slick skin, clinging to him even as his own legs gave out. Wesley fell, taking Lindsey with him. They both hit the shower floor hard.
Moaning loudly, Lindsey jerked once more. Then his body went limp in Wesley's arms.
Heart pounding, Wesley lay back. He was panting for air, trembling in the aftermath. The power was still in him, rushing through his veins until he felt alive. Really alive for the first time in ...
For the first time in years, really.
He had no concept of time, or how long they lay entwined together on the bathroom floor. All Wesley knew was, when he finally came to himself, the shower had been shut off and Lindsey was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the door. A towel was wrapped around him, and his knees were drawn to his chest. He was shivering.
Wesley forced himself to sit up. "How do you feel?" he asked in a rusty voice.
"Okay." Lindsey licked his lips nervously. "What did you do?"
"I tried to make you feel better. By chasing the alcohol out of your system."
"I didn't know you could do that."
He shuddered and offered Lindsey a very weak smile. "Yes, well. Neither did I."
Lindsey's eyes met his, startled and scared. They gazed at each other a moment, silence a heavy question between them. Then Lindsey nodded and lay his head back on his knees.
They didn't speak the rest of the night.
* * *
"Dude, how long was I gone?"
Wesley started awake at the words, jerking slightly. His face connected with something warm and, upon opening his eyes, he found that it was buried in Lindsey's stomach.
He flushed and released the hand that was entwined with his own. Lindsey made a noise of protest, but allowed Wesley to move away.
"Gunn?" Wesley squinted at the blurry figure before him.
"Yeah. What the hell is he doing here?" Gunn asked, sounding both belligerent and curious.
Wesley found his glasses. "He was sent to us by the Powers that Be. Where have you been?"
"With my crew," Gunn answered, frowning. "I figured that after Angel fired us all, that I should go back to them. Because they make sense."
"Then why are you here?"
Gunn shook his head. "I'm not the same; I got used to the way we fight. And I think I can do more good with you. The world isn't so black and white, and my crew is. But not if you're sleeping with the enemy."
Lindsey rose. "I'm not your enemy. Not anymore."
The expression on his face clearly showed the Gunn wasn't buying it. He raised an eyebrow and stared hard at Lindsey, until he squirmed. "I'm not," Lindsey insisted. "I was contacted by the Powers that Be and told to get Angel back." He rubbed his neck, wincing when it brushed against his bandage. "Not that I'm having any luck."
"He is trying." Wesley stood as well. "Cordelia has been having an average of three visions a day. She can hardly get out of bed. All her visions are about Angel, so Lindsey goes to where Angel is while I take care of her."
Gunn looked at Lindsey and frowned. "Did he bite you?"
Wesley glanced at Lindsey, who touched the bandage on his neck self-consciously.
"Yeah," he said softly, sounding ashamed.
With a soft sigh, Wesley reached out and put his hand on the back of Lindsey's neck. He massaged the overly tight muscles there soothingly, trying to will Lindsey back to calmness. His mind ^opened^ automatically, and Wesley allowed the excess power that flowed into him to seep into Lindsey.
"Angel's a little out of control, Gunn," Wesley said, still massaging Lindsey's neck. "And last night wasn't easy for Lindsey. This is the third time Angel has greeted him with physical injury, and yet he goes back."
"So do masochists," Gunn said, but he grimaced when Wesley fixed him with a glare. "Look, I'm sorry, dude, but ... the past few weeks have been a little weird."
Lindsey snorted. "Tell me about it. Look, I'm going to go take a shower," he said to Wesley.
Wesley studied him a moment before closing his eyes. He breathed deeply and concentrated, trying to ^feel^ Lindsey's mood and body through magic. This, again, was something his body was familiar with, even if he felt out of practice. It had been years since he'd used these skills, but instead of being rough or awkward, it was easy. At least, with Lindsey it was easy. It shouldn't have been this way, but it was.
"Very well," he finally said, pushing the memory of the shower they'd taken together the night before away. "But call if you need anything."
"Yeah, okay." Lindsey pulled away, glanced at Gunn, and then left.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Gunn asked as soon as Lindsey was gone.
Wesley took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You were gone and I didn't know when you were coming back. I also didn't have a contact number, and since I've been too afraid to leave Cordelia, I ..."
"No," Gunn interrupted impatiently. "I mean why didn't you tell me you were gay?"
Startled, he opened his eyes and looked at Gunn. "What ... What .... Where did that come from?"
Gunn smiled condescendingly and shook his head. "Dude, it's *so* obvious. You're, like, falling in love with that guy, and I'm just wondering why you never let me know that, well. You know. You're into dudes."
Wesley swallowed. "I'm not .... Well, I am .... Well, I .... Sort of. I like both men and women, but I'm with Virginia. I'm not ... falling in love with him. Lindsey."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not," Wesley said crisply. "If anything, I'm in love with Angel. And as for not telling you, I didn't see how it was any of your business."
Gunn was silent a moment before shrugging. "Okay, you're right. I agree, and if we were just coworkers, yeah, it'd be none of my business." He shrugged again and looked at Wesley calmly. "But I like to think that we're some kind of friends too. And maybe start actually being better friends. Anyway, now that I know, I want you to know I'm cool with it. There's enough crazy shit in the world, and I don't see any reason to be harping on anyone because of who they love."
Wesley was at a loss for words, but he did manage to find, "Thank you," and whisper it.
"It's cool," Gunn responded. He held out his hand to Wesley, who took it.
Gunn did some sort of complicated handshake that Wesley was hard pressed to keep up with; when it was over, Gunn held on and said, "Wes, you've *never* looked at Angel the way you just looked at Lindsey. And you've never, I don't know. Glowed or whatever." He shrugged again. "As long as Lindsey isn't evil, I think it'd be good for you. Better than Angel."
"Well, thank you," Wesley said doubtfully, "but I can assure you that I am *not* in love with him. Nor am I falling in love. That was ... the beginning of a friendship. Building of trust."
Again, Gunn smiled that condescending, amused half-smile of his and said, "Sure, Wes. We'll see."
* * *
The visions reduced to one a day. And even they seemed more out of formality than anything else. Angel had confined himself to the Hyperion, only leaving to knock over blood delivery trucks. For the life of him, Lindsey didn't see why the PTB would be concerned about that ...
Unless they'd already gotten what they wanted, he thought, looking at Wesley speculatively. Unless chasing Angel was only to keep what they'd wanted happy.
"This is stupid," he finally said.
Gunn and Wesley looked up from the game of RISK they were playing.
"What is?" Wesley asked.
"This. Waiting here, holed up, nothing happening. Having Cordelia have vision after useless vision while we fucking do nothing."
"What do you suggest?" Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"I think we should go to Angel."
"I'm there," Gunn said, rising.
Wesley didn't look convinced. "I don't know. Walking into the lion's den like that may not accomplish anything. You've already been hurt."
"And I know he's not going to kill me," he countered. "Look, I've tried everything else. I can't watch Cordelia needlessly suffer, and I can't sit around and not do anything anymore."
Cordelia nodded. "He's right. It's time to stop sitting around like cry-Buffy's and smack some sense into Angel." She rose from her seat. "Let's go."
Lindsey swallowed and shook his head. "I didn't mean .... I'm fine with going alone."
But Wesley shook his head, those beautifully soulful eyes on him. "We're a team, Lindsey." He looked at Cordelia and Gunn for confirmation.
They both nodded. "We're all in this together," Cordelia said. "So don't try to leave us behind.
He looked helplessly from one to the other. They were determined.
"Fine," he finally said, resigned. "We go in together."
* * *
"Get out, all of you."
"No, Angel," Cordelia said firmly. "This needs to stop. You need to get over this."
Angel appeared, leaning on the banister. "This is my home and you are not invited in."
"Fuck you, Angel," said Wesley.
Everyone looked at him in surprise. Angel looked most surprised. For a full minute, he did nothing but look at Wesley, shock etched across his face. Their eyes battled, Wesley's fierce, Angel's confused, and, finally, Angel managed to say, "Excuse me?"
Wesley inhaled deeply, heart pounding. "I said 'fuck you.'" he repeated. His voice barely trembled, but Lindsey could hear it on the edge of his words. "This was our home, too. We were a family before you decided to fire us. Before you betrayed us."
"I only did what I had to do. To protect you from me."
Gunn snorted. "Protect us? Protect yourself, maybe. Act like a selfish moron without us around, yeah. It doesn't have anything to do with us."
"Angel, we were worried about you," Cordelia said. "We still are. Pushing away hurt us more. Protect us? Ok, so you haven't hurt us physically, but we've still suffered. The PTB keeps sending me visions, and you're beating up on Lindsey. Wesley had to take care of both of us alone until Gunn came back. It's not fair."
"I'm sorry about the fucking Powers that Be. I have no control over them. But I still don't get what Lindsey is getting out of all of this." His angry eyes turned. "Why are you here?"
Lindsey stepped up next to Wesley. "I've been charged to save you. And, despite my past, I take that seriously. I want ... I want to help you, the way you tried to help me, once."
"Tried and failed."
"You didn't fail. I did."
The words hung in the air between them. He felt distant from it all, and very, very small.
Then Wesley put his hand on Lindsey's neck. Magic ^breathed^ into him, and when Angel finally laughed mockingly, he was able to withstand it without flinching.
The vampire descended the stairs in a slow, loping gate. "Okay. You failed. And now, you're here why? Because the Powers That Be think I'll listen to you? Why you, Lindsey? Why?" He was at the foot of the stairs now, and he approached Lindsey menacingly, like a lion stalking its prey.
Lindsey forced himself to remain where he was.
"Why should I listen to you? What have the Powers ever done for me, hmm? I tried to do it their way. I was out there. I let the visions guide me, allowed myself to care, and for what? Nothing. I do everything for them, but the moment I want something, it doesn't matter. I don't get my way. And then, the moment I screw up, they turn their back on me." He leaned into Lindsey, allowing his superior height and build to force Lindsey back a step. "So tell me, Lin. Why should I listen to a think they--or you--say?"
Wesley exhaled hard, fingers tightening on Lindsey's neck. Lindsey could tell Angel had noticed, was wondering, but he kept his eyes focused on Lindsey.
Lindsey swallowed and tilted his chin up. "You screwed up, but the Powers haven't turned their back on you." He licked his lips and said, "They sent me."
Angel's eyes hardened and he leered at Lindsey, raking his eyes over his body. "You. A fallen angel. A lawyer no better than a demon." He shook his head. "You're worse than I am, my boy."
Lindsey felt his heart contract with fear and pain. Angel was right; who was he? A lawyer, a good one, with a dirty soul. Why had he been chosen? Why not Wesley? Why not someone who was clean?
"Because none of them can understand him. He wouldn't listen to anyone who hasn't fallen, and Wesley hasn't. You have," Doyle's voice whispered in his ear.
"What can I do?" Lindsey breathed.
"Talk. It's what you do best. I'll give you the words."
Suddenly, a great force entered Lindsey. Opening his mouth, words began pouring out. "Where were you when we laid the/earth's foundations?/Tell me, since you are so well-informed!/" His voice echoed off the walls of the Hyperion.
Angel flinched and backed up. His body coiled in on himself for a moment, as if Lindsey's words hit him painfully. Then he shook them off and frowned.
Next to him, Wesley let go. He seemed to be in pain, or overwhelmed, and Lindsey wanted nothing more than to reach out and help him, but he couldn't. The words kept coming. "Who decided its dimensions, do you/know? Or who stretched the measuring/ line across it? Have you ever in you life given/orders to the morning/or sent the dawn to its post/to grasp the earth by its edges and shake the wicked out of it? Have you an inkling of the extent of/ the earth?/ Tell me about it if you have! Is it your wisdom that ..." Abruptly, Lindsey broke off.
Angel was looking at him as if he'd grown another head. And that head was the head belonging to the village idiot.
"Ok, I can see you're not buying it." Lindsey said, feeling stupid. But, then, those hadn't been his words. They'd been the words of beings who were so out of touch with what was really going on, they expected not to be understood.
But they'd chosen him because he *did* understand.
He took a deep breath, the otherworldly power fading. "Angel, this isn't you," he said, softly, but intensely. "Yes, you were tested and were royally fucked. But this... you can't last like this. You're going to kill yourself and then never get any chance to be with anyone you love ever again. You are only alive when you fight and you care. Even I know that."
"You were never in it for the reward, Angel," Wesley put in.
Angel looked at him.
"You weren't. The Shanshu prophecy .... It gave you hope, it didn't guide your actions. You do what you do because you know it's right. It's what you were born for."
"You're a Warrior," Lindsey added. "Chosen by the Powers that Be, but you're a warrior for the fallen. For the hopeless, the helpless. *They* are your cause. Not the PTB. They can go fuck themselves for all I care. For all *you* care. You still do what's right. Because it's right."
Angel closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's too hard. It's too .... Your lives would all ..."
"Our lives would be the same, even without you," Cordelia interrupted. "Only I'd be dead, Wesley might be dead, Gunn would ... be dead, and Lindsey ..."
"I'd be incomplete," he said, eyes on Wesley.
Angel snorted, bringing Lindsey's attention back to him. "I didn't know you cared."
Lindsey flushed and ducked his head. "I'd be an empty, immoral lawyer with no purpose. Damned for all time. At least with you around, I can imagine a world worth fighting for."
"Besides," Doyle said.
There was a collective gasp and Angel froze, eyes wide.
Lindsey turned to see the ghost standing just behind him. His luminous eyes were on Angel, and he gazed at Angel with something that was more than love. Something that made Lindsey look at Wesley again, throat tight.
"Doyle," Angel managed in a strangled voice.
Doyle's smile softened. "Hey. Miss me?"
Wordless, Angel nodded.
Doyle looked at Cordelia. "Hello, Princess."
Her eyes were wet with tears, and all she could do was offer a wobbly smile.
He turned back to Angel, face serious. "Angel, I died so you could carry on the good fight. And it is a good fight, whether or not you agree with those in charge. I know I never did. But it was worth it." He lowered his eyes and smiled ruefully. "It was all worth it."
"But you're dead," Angel said in a strangled voice.
"And you're not. And the world still needs you, just like your prophet said."
Angel mouthed the word prophet and looked at Lindsey.
His face warmed, and he shrugged.
"Don't play their game, man," Doyle said. "Do it however you think it needs to be done. Fight the fight your way. But fight it."
"Doyle, I..." Angel began, but his voice cracked.
Doyle smiled, eyes so heartbreakingly sad that Lindsey ached. "I know, Angel. I know." Then, he faded, leaving the members of Angel Investigations alone to the fight.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 07:07 pm (UTC)"Our lives would be the same, even without you," Cordelia interrupted. "Only I'd be dead, Wesley might be dead, Gunn would ... be dead, and Lindsey ..."
"I'd be incomplete," he said, eyes on Wesley.
Heee!!! I love that part. I totally love it.
*snoogles* I want more. :0)
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 09:28 pm (UTC)Thank you!!
Heee!!! I love that part. I totally love it.
That's one of the new parts. I quite like it, too. :)
I don't know when I'll get more up. I'm completley changing the frame story, but haven't started that. I'm working on all the flashbacks right now to make them more readable. Then I'll do the frame and then, hopefully, it'llb e done.
But I've got COTW to work on, too, so ... :)