Strategy, Part Thirteen
Jul. 22nd, 2003 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenOkay gang, I did it!
PART THIRTEEN
Somebody Lorne's never met before holds up a crossbow. Does the friend or foe challenge. Lorne holds up his hands, glad Angel's little death warrant hasn't gotten out to the ears of the troops yet.
"I'm here to see Fred," the demon says, having read his own future on this one. At least as best as he's able. He knows Fred'll get him in. Beyond that he has no idea.
There's debate. Lorne's patted down for weapons. He makes the obligatory joke about one of the patters at least buying him dinner.
He's weaponless - which was a stupid chance to take but Angel's not the only one who knows a few secret shortcuts around town. He got there without being seen.
Finally he's brought into a room. He sits in a chair. Waits. An hour or so later there's a burst of Fred into the room.
"Lorne!" she cries. Dives into his arms. Holds him tight, like a little kid seeing her dad come home after work. "God, I thought I - " jumps back, still holds him by the shirtsleeves. Eyes wide, like those freaky paintings of kids you can get at the same places you can buy pictures of clowns crying. "It's not true, right? It *can't* be true. Angel said - "
"Yeah, I'm sure he said a lot of stuff," Lorne tells her. Tries to pat her arms, bring her freak-out down from eleven if he can. "Which is why I need to talk to him."
Fred's mouth twists. "That might not be such a good idea right now. Angel's been a little... well I don't want to exaggerate but the word 'death' was involved and you know how cranky he gets...."
Lorne smiles at her. Tries to show his appreciation for her efforts to gloss over things. "I know, sugarplum. But still. I need to see him."
***
Later still -
Angel, without any emotion: "I'm having a hard time thinking of anything *stupider* you could ask me for right now."
Lorne, nonplussed: "Yeah, yeah. Look, if you don't like what I have to say you can cut my head off, all right?"
Angel: "Fine. For a start."
"Great." Lorne brushes past him, goes into what is obviously Angel's quarters. "Alone."
Angel follows, shuts the door.
Lorne starts talking.
***
The vampire is quiet. If Lorne had been there at the time, he would recognize Angel's expression as the same one he had after he was ripped out of Jasmine's thrall. Instead all he sees is quiet. Angel's aura is so shuttered it could blend into the wall.
"Keep going," Angel says.
Lorne clears his throat. "Um - I don't know if you really want to hear *all* the details of - "
Dark eyes look at him. Lorne suddenly has no doubt how this creature made an entire continent wet its pants whenever he came to town.
"I don't know," Angel says, the voice of death itself, "why you think you get to make *any* decisions right now. Keep. Talking."
Lorne sighs. Continues.
Angel listens. Interrupts every so often with questions. Usually they're only one word like: "Color?" or "Angle?" and Lorne slowly realizes that Angel's acting as his own forensics team. Figuring out exactly what happened when all Lorne knows about is a bruise or a mark he saw.
Lorne's not a vampire. He doesn't have photo recall. But he does his best.
Finally he winds down. He's told the tale as best he knows it. Shrugs in defeat. "I got nothing else."
Angel's not looking at him. His eyes are focused on something Lorne can't see. Lorne doesn't interrupt.
Finally a question: "When did Connor stop beating him?"
Lorne, unaware of the attack Wes suffered after he left, says "Sometime after the night he was supposed to meet you. Not sure when. They locked me up in my room. I got out when Wes came to get me. It could've been then. I didn't see any damage but - " shrugs " - he got good at hiding it too."
"But you think it was then."
"If you're holding a gun to my head, yes."
Angel takes this in.
"I don't know why," Lorne offers.
Angel, almost too soft to hear, "I do."
Lorne waits, but the vampire doesn't share.
"When did it start?" Angel asks.
Lorne bites his tongue. He's already told this bit. Isn't sure he wants to fan the fire by repeating it. Doesn't think Angel would've forgotten it so soon, but then figures just in case: "At the high school."
"When he took him," Angel says.
"Right."
Another pause, then Angel's in motion. Lorne finds he has to jog to keep up with him as he leaves the room.
Faces appear. Lorne recognizes some of them, wonders why others are looking at him like they know him.
Gunn: "What's up?"
Angel points to him and Fred. "You and you. Get the Hell out of my sight. Now. I don't care where you go but it's not gonna be here."
Fred, shocked, "Angel, what - "
Gunn, pissed, "The Hell - "
Angel, taking absolutely no shit, "Out of my sight *now*."
Someone Lorne doesn't know but he later finds out is Xander says "Angel, you can't just come in here and cop attitude - "
Angel turns on him. "You want attitude? Attitude is I *kill* them now. Me being Mr. Nice Guy is I'm giving advance warning. They do *not* stay here. If they're here when I get back then you get to watch the disemboweling. We clear?"
But then there's no more discussion because Angel's gone. Vanishes too quick for even Spike to follow close on his tracks.
Shock controls the room. Finally all sets of eyes turn back to Lorne.
"The *Hell*?" Gunn repeats.
Lorne makes a sympathetic face. "Sorry, kids. Wish I could tell you."
There's arguments, curses and bickering, but in the end Lorne convinces them to at least stay out of Angel's way.
***
It's night when Angel pulls himself up topside.
He grabs the first human being he sees and snaps their neck.
This draws a little attention. Which is good. He vamps out, starts fighting.
The term "inhuman strength" has never meant so much. He's in a residential zone. It's ridiculous how little anyone, even in a group, can withstand him. He kills more than he can count before they finally learn to back away from him, evade his grasp, wait for the cops to come.
He thinks about waiting himself, but he's bored with fighting.
Back into the sewers. Back up topside in another area.
He hits a hotel next. No messy invitations necessary. Starts on the top floor and works his way down, revisiting some of his favorite tortures from centuries past. Then, at about the ninth floor, starts inventing new ones.
Again at some point he's let enough of them scream that he's attracted attention. Another fight. Another slipping away into the sewers.
He goes on like this for hours until he eventually ends up by the Hollywood sign. He stands in front of it, looking out over the city. Watches the lights of planes line up in the sky, get ready for landing at LAX. Feels blood and gore get dry and sticky on his skin.
Younger vampire appears. "You done yet?" Spike asks.
Angel checks. Finds that he still doesn't feel any better. "Nope."
Spike wanders over, hands in his coat pockets. "Be daylight soon."
"Yep."
"Planning on continuing the rampage from underground then?" Spike asks. Ponders. "Or maybe under a menacing baby blue blanket?"
Faint growl. Angel's so past the point of finding anything funny he can't even define it.
"Your boy's tearing up the town looking for you," Spike says. "Got the radio all a-buzz. Military and coppers and just about anyone who can man a toothpick and remember what you look like."
Angel doesn't comment.
Spike continues, "If you *wanted* to piss the lad off why didn't you just knock on his front door?"
"Why are you here?"
Spike meets his eyes for a second. "'cause I *like* this sodding planet. The way it *was*. The way it *used* to be. And I've got soul enough to want to help get it *back*."
"Go nuts. What's stopping you?"
"Not my bloody job description, is it?" Spike asks, bitter. "Soul doesn't make you a champion. Just ask Harris."
Angel thinks about that. The thought chases around and around in his head, dancing a pas de deux with the memory of a flinch.
Spike is still talking. "You're gonna bring your boy down on us with *nukes* if you're not more fucking careful. And Jasmine's lot is blissed out enough that they'd probably laugh at the radiation. Say it was a goddess suntan or some rubbish."
"What's your point?"
"Don't make me have to bash your brains in to stop you ending the world as we know it *again*," Spike says. Fishes for a cigarette. "We've done that bit. Time we moved on."
Angel thinks about it some more. "You're right."
***
Back down to the bunker. A meeting is called. Angel doesn't bring up the fact that Fred and Gunn are still there, they don't bring up the fact that he actually looks like a serial killer.
"Call Willow back," Angel says.
Xander: "What's the plan?"
Angel, not elaborating further: "We're doing a summoning."
***
Communication plus teleportation takes time. It's a day and a half before Willow shows up. By herself, because anything else would be too dangerous.
Angel takes her into his quarters. Shuts the door. Outlines the plan.
Willow frowns. Shakes her head. Tries to appease. "Angel, this is some pretty dark stuff - "
"I'm a pretty dark guy."
"True, but - "
"Pretty dark situation too."
"I don't *like* dark magic," Willow tells him. "Not anymore. Asking me to do this - it's too dangerous."
"Do it," Angel says, "and the world gets saved and you only have to do it once."
Willow's still not certain. "I don't think Buffy would like this."
"I'm 250 years old," Angel tells her. "I don't have to give a flying shit about what she would like."
"Angel - "
"Do it, or I'm finding another witch who will."
Willow glares at him. Doesn't like being challenged.
On the other hand, doesn't like thinking of this in somebody else's hands either.
She does the spell.
***
"Not that I'm surprised, because I think we all knew you would come to this point eventually, but I've got to know: what made you so confident that this would *work*?"
Angel's topside again. Looking out onto an empty street. Out onto a world that's about to change.
Replies: "Jasmine's evil in this dimension."
"True."
Angel turns. Looks Lilah in the eye. "You're evil in *every* dimension."
"Flattering of you to say so," Lilah says, "but I think you mean Wolfram & Hart. I checked the books. Apparently in some dimensions I'm actually - " she mock shudders " - good. Happily married, even."
Angel doesn't ask her who the husband is.
"Still, I can't say you're wrong," Lilah admits. "Of course, why it took you so long to - "
"He can free himself, right?"
"And he zeros in on the fine print," Lilah observes.
Angel doesn't put up with her bull. Gives her a look that says he's happy to test out the strength of that scarf that's helping to hold her head up. "He can free himself, *right*?"
Plucked eyebrows quirk upward, the picture of innocence. "You of all people need to ask me this?"
"I of all people *especially* need to ask you this."
Lilah smiles. It's not friendly. "He has as much chance of getting free as anyone else does."
"If he earns it?"
"That's one theory."
Angel sighs. Knows he can't get anything better than this. *No* world works that way.
"Fine. It's a deal."
"I knew you'd come around," Lilah tells him. "Now all we need to do is the traditional seal the deal in blood."
"You'll get it," Angel tells her, "when you give me what I asked for."
Another catlike smile. "Of course. I'd hate for you to think you couldn't take us at our word."
***
It comes in phases.
Phase one is information. Lilah gives them a dossier on everything Jasmine. She's there for the meetings where they study it, form a plan of action.
She doesn't resist pointing out the part about ending world peace. They all tell her to shut the fuck up.
For reasons known only to herself, however, she never mentions the fact that all of this could have ended months ago, if Angel had both had a better control of his temper, and if he hadn't been secretly crushing on Wesley.
They find out about the other dimension - the one Jasmine left. Willow opens a portal to it. Angel and Spike go through. Together they fight what needs fighting. Come back with the demon's head.
Phase two involves hacking into one of Jasmine's nightly world-wide broadcasts. This proves easy to do with Fred's skills, Willow's magic, and Wolfram & Hart's technology.
Jasmine's real name is broadcast. Pandemonium reigns.
Phase three is sending out the troops - Willow, Spike, a transported in tag team of Faith and Buffy - to take care of the comparatively mundane detail of destroying Jasmine herself. They coat their weapons with the leftovers of Connor's blood. The battle won't prove easy for them, but it's doable.
This leaves Angel free for phase four.
***
Connor's waiting for him. Expecting him. Without guards now, which means Angel can walk right up to him and hit him across the face.
Connor hits back, and the fight begins in earnest.
He's his father's son. He puts up a good battle. They destroy the hotel as they literally crash through floors. Drop down to the hard marble floor of the lobby. Keep going, keep fighting.
Connor is fueled by fury. He spits at his father. Rages against him for ruining everything. For being such a failure at even trying to be a good dad.
Angel starts out just as angry, then realizes he's gone to a place past it now. One that's even tinged with regret.
Doesn't blame Connor for accusing him. In the end he thinks it's his fault too.
"I'm sorry," he says, at a point when they've broken apart, forced upon each other a second to regroup and, in Connor's case, catch a breath.
Connor wipes blood from his mouth. With abstract pride Angel thinks he almost looks like a vampire. "For what?"
"For everything," Angel says. "For Holtz. For Quor-toth. For not being the human dad you deserved. The Hell of it is - I love you, Connor. Even after all this. You're still my son."
Connor stands up. He wavers between the urge to listen or fight.
Angel stands as well. "I'm also sorry for this."
An instinct a father could be proud of kicks in. Connor moves to run, but Angel's faster.
He holds his son by the throat. Looks into his boy's eyes as he struggles for air.
"To save the world I had to sell a soul," Angel tells him. "The soul of a champion."
The knife comes out. The cut across the throat is clean, painless. It's the kind of cut only an experienced torturer could do.
Angel drops his son, watches the blood pour out which seals the deal.
Says the last words Connor hears before going into Hell: "I picked yours."
***
From his position downstairs, Wesley hears the chaos.
He's sitting in the back of the cage, looking out upon nothing in particular. He's been left alone for days. Too worthless at first for anyone to even bother coming to taunt him then, at a time perhaps halfway through, too minor on the scale of more important things to worry about.
Wesley thinks to himself that based on the noise, the world must be ending. In a way he's glad. Cuts down on the wait.
"I want to make something clear. For the record."
Wesley looks up. Sees Lilah standing on the other side of the bars. "You're not real."
She taps the metal. It echoes back. "Real enough."
Wesley still doesn't believe her. He's had these conversations before.
"For the record," Lilah repeats, arms folded, "I wouldn't have done it like this. Well - not *all* of it."
Wesley thinks about his current position. Finds it hard to think of Lilah ever being so outmatched that she would fall this far.
"Then again," Lilah says, "I never had anyone who was that important to me."
Wesley considers the words. Isn't aware of time passing, Lilah leaving, or the opening of the cage.
Instead it becomes like a dream world. He blinks, and Angel appears.
"Come on," Angel says, lifting him gently. "Let's get you out of here."
***
PART THIRTEEN
Somebody Lorne's never met before holds up a crossbow. Does the friend or foe challenge. Lorne holds up his hands, glad Angel's little death warrant hasn't gotten out to the ears of the troops yet.
"I'm here to see Fred," the demon says, having read his own future on this one. At least as best as he's able. He knows Fred'll get him in. Beyond that he has no idea.
There's debate. Lorne's patted down for weapons. He makes the obligatory joke about one of the patters at least buying him dinner.
He's weaponless - which was a stupid chance to take but Angel's not the only one who knows a few secret shortcuts around town. He got there without being seen.
Finally he's brought into a room. He sits in a chair. Waits. An hour or so later there's a burst of Fred into the room.
"Lorne!" she cries. Dives into his arms. Holds him tight, like a little kid seeing her dad come home after work. "God, I thought I - " jumps back, still holds him by the shirtsleeves. Eyes wide, like those freaky paintings of kids you can get at the same places you can buy pictures of clowns crying. "It's not true, right? It *can't* be true. Angel said - "
"Yeah, I'm sure he said a lot of stuff," Lorne tells her. Tries to pat her arms, bring her freak-out down from eleven if he can. "Which is why I need to talk to him."
Fred's mouth twists. "That might not be such a good idea right now. Angel's been a little... well I don't want to exaggerate but the word 'death' was involved and you know how cranky he gets...."
Lorne smiles at her. Tries to show his appreciation for her efforts to gloss over things. "I know, sugarplum. But still. I need to see him."
***
Later still -
Angel, without any emotion: "I'm having a hard time thinking of anything *stupider* you could ask me for right now."
Lorne, nonplussed: "Yeah, yeah. Look, if you don't like what I have to say you can cut my head off, all right?"
Angel: "Fine. For a start."
"Great." Lorne brushes past him, goes into what is obviously Angel's quarters. "Alone."
Angel follows, shuts the door.
Lorne starts talking.
***
The vampire is quiet. If Lorne had been there at the time, he would recognize Angel's expression as the same one he had after he was ripped out of Jasmine's thrall. Instead all he sees is quiet. Angel's aura is so shuttered it could blend into the wall.
"Keep going," Angel says.
Lorne clears his throat. "Um - I don't know if you really want to hear *all* the details of - "
Dark eyes look at him. Lorne suddenly has no doubt how this creature made an entire continent wet its pants whenever he came to town.
"I don't know," Angel says, the voice of death itself, "why you think you get to make *any* decisions right now. Keep. Talking."
Lorne sighs. Continues.
Angel listens. Interrupts every so often with questions. Usually they're only one word like: "Color?" or "Angle?" and Lorne slowly realizes that Angel's acting as his own forensics team. Figuring out exactly what happened when all Lorne knows about is a bruise or a mark he saw.
Lorne's not a vampire. He doesn't have photo recall. But he does his best.
Finally he winds down. He's told the tale as best he knows it. Shrugs in defeat. "I got nothing else."
Angel's not looking at him. His eyes are focused on something Lorne can't see. Lorne doesn't interrupt.
Finally a question: "When did Connor stop beating him?"
Lorne, unaware of the attack Wes suffered after he left, says "Sometime after the night he was supposed to meet you. Not sure when. They locked me up in my room. I got out when Wes came to get me. It could've been then. I didn't see any damage but - " shrugs " - he got good at hiding it too."
"But you think it was then."
"If you're holding a gun to my head, yes."
Angel takes this in.
"I don't know why," Lorne offers.
Angel, almost too soft to hear, "I do."
Lorne waits, but the vampire doesn't share.
"When did it start?" Angel asks.
Lorne bites his tongue. He's already told this bit. Isn't sure he wants to fan the fire by repeating it. Doesn't think Angel would've forgotten it so soon, but then figures just in case: "At the high school."
"When he took him," Angel says.
"Right."
Another pause, then Angel's in motion. Lorne finds he has to jog to keep up with him as he leaves the room.
Faces appear. Lorne recognizes some of them, wonders why others are looking at him like they know him.
Gunn: "What's up?"
Angel points to him and Fred. "You and you. Get the Hell out of my sight. Now. I don't care where you go but it's not gonna be here."
Fred, shocked, "Angel, what - "
Gunn, pissed, "The Hell - "
Angel, taking absolutely no shit, "Out of my sight *now*."
Someone Lorne doesn't know but he later finds out is Xander says "Angel, you can't just come in here and cop attitude - "
Angel turns on him. "You want attitude? Attitude is I *kill* them now. Me being Mr. Nice Guy is I'm giving advance warning. They do *not* stay here. If they're here when I get back then you get to watch the disemboweling. We clear?"
But then there's no more discussion because Angel's gone. Vanishes too quick for even Spike to follow close on his tracks.
Shock controls the room. Finally all sets of eyes turn back to Lorne.
"The *Hell*?" Gunn repeats.
Lorne makes a sympathetic face. "Sorry, kids. Wish I could tell you."
There's arguments, curses and bickering, but in the end Lorne convinces them to at least stay out of Angel's way.
***
It's night when Angel pulls himself up topside.
He grabs the first human being he sees and snaps their neck.
This draws a little attention. Which is good. He vamps out, starts fighting.
The term "inhuman strength" has never meant so much. He's in a residential zone. It's ridiculous how little anyone, even in a group, can withstand him. He kills more than he can count before they finally learn to back away from him, evade his grasp, wait for the cops to come.
He thinks about waiting himself, but he's bored with fighting.
Back into the sewers. Back up topside in another area.
He hits a hotel next. No messy invitations necessary. Starts on the top floor and works his way down, revisiting some of his favorite tortures from centuries past. Then, at about the ninth floor, starts inventing new ones.
Again at some point he's let enough of them scream that he's attracted attention. Another fight. Another slipping away into the sewers.
He goes on like this for hours until he eventually ends up by the Hollywood sign. He stands in front of it, looking out over the city. Watches the lights of planes line up in the sky, get ready for landing at LAX. Feels blood and gore get dry and sticky on his skin.
Younger vampire appears. "You done yet?" Spike asks.
Angel checks. Finds that he still doesn't feel any better. "Nope."
Spike wanders over, hands in his coat pockets. "Be daylight soon."
"Yep."
"Planning on continuing the rampage from underground then?" Spike asks. Ponders. "Or maybe under a menacing baby blue blanket?"
Faint growl. Angel's so past the point of finding anything funny he can't even define it.
"Your boy's tearing up the town looking for you," Spike says. "Got the radio all a-buzz. Military and coppers and just about anyone who can man a toothpick and remember what you look like."
Angel doesn't comment.
Spike continues, "If you *wanted* to piss the lad off why didn't you just knock on his front door?"
"Why are you here?"
Spike meets his eyes for a second. "'cause I *like* this sodding planet. The way it *was*. The way it *used* to be. And I've got soul enough to want to help get it *back*."
"Go nuts. What's stopping you?"
"Not my bloody job description, is it?" Spike asks, bitter. "Soul doesn't make you a champion. Just ask Harris."
Angel thinks about that. The thought chases around and around in his head, dancing a pas de deux with the memory of a flinch.
Spike is still talking. "You're gonna bring your boy down on us with *nukes* if you're not more fucking careful. And Jasmine's lot is blissed out enough that they'd probably laugh at the radiation. Say it was a goddess suntan or some rubbish."
"What's your point?"
"Don't make me have to bash your brains in to stop you ending the world as we know it *again*," Spike says. Fishes for a cigarette. "We've done that bit. Time we moved on."
Angel thinks about it some more. "You're right."
***
Back down to the bunker. A meeting is called. Angel doesn't bring up the fact that Fred and Gunn are still there, they don't bring up the fact that he actually looks like a serial killer.
"Call Willow back," Angel says.
Xander: "What's the plan?"
Angel, not elaborating further: "We're doing a summoning."
***
Communication plus teleportation takes time. It's a day and a half before Willow shows up. By herself, because anything else would be too dangerous.
Angel takes her into his quarters. Shuts the door. Outlines the plan.
Willow frowns. Shakes her head. Tries to appease. "Angel, this is some pretty dark stuff - "
"I'm a pretty dark guy."
"True, but - "
"Pretty dark situation too."
"I don't *like* dark magic," Willow tells him. "Not anymore. Asking me to do this - it's too dangerous."
"Do it," Angel says, "and the world gets saved and you only have to do it once."
Willow's still not certain. "I don't think Buffy would like this."
"I'm 250 years old," Angel tells her. "I don't have to give a flying shit about what she would like."
"Angel - "
"Do it, or I'm finding another witch who will."
Willow glares at him. Doesn't like being challenged.
On the other hand, doesn't like thinking of this in somebody else's hands either.
She does the spell.
***
"Not that I'm surprised, because I think we all knew you would come to this point eventually, but I've got to know: what made you so confident that this would *work*?"
Angel's topside again. Looking out onto an empty street. Out onto a world that's about to change.
Replies: "Jasmine's evil in this dimension."
"True."
Angel turns. Looks Lilah in the eye. "You're evil in *every* dimension."
"Flattering of you to say so," Lilah says, "but I think you mean Wolfram & Hart. I checked the books. Apparently in some dimensions I'm actually - " she mock shudders " - good. Happily married, even."
Angel doesn't ask her who the husband is.
"Still, I can't say you're wrong," Lilah admits. "Of course, why it took you so long to - "
"He can free himself, right?"
"And he zeros in on the fine print," Lilah observes.
Angel doesn't put up with her bull. Gives her a look that says he's happy to test out the strength of that scarf that's helping to hold her head up. "He can free himself, *right*?"
Plucked eyebrows quirk upward, the picture of innocence. "You of all people need to ask me this?"
"I of all people *especially* need to ask you this."
Lilah smiles. It's not friendly. "He has as much chance of getting free as anyone else does."
"If he earns it?"
"That's one theory."
Angel sighs. Knows he can't get anything better than this. *No* world works that way.
"Fine. It's a deal."
"I knew you'd come around," Lilah tells him. "Now all we need to do is the traditional seal the deal in blood."
"You'll get it," Angel tells her, "when you give me what I asked for."
Another catlike smile. "Of course. I'd hate for you to think you couldn't take us at our word."
***
It comes in phases.
Phase one is information. Lilah gives them a dossier on everything Jasmine. She's there for the meetings where they study it, form a plan of action.
She doesn't resist pointing out the part about ending world peace. They all tell her to shut the fuck up.
For reasons known only to herself, however, she never mentions the fact that all of this could have ended months ago, if Angel had both had a better control of his temper, and if he hadn't been secretly crushing on Wesley.
They find out about the other dimension - the one Jasmine left. Willow opens a portal to it. Angel and Spike go through. Together they fight what needs fighting. Come back with the demon's head.
Phase two involves hacking into one of Jasmine's nightly world-wide broadcasts. This proves easy to do with Fred's skills, Willow's magic, and Wolfram & Hart's technology.
Jasmine's real name is broadcast. Pandemonium reigns.
Phase three is sending out the troops - Willow, Spike, a transported in tag team of Faith and Buffy - to take care of the comparatively mundane detail of destroying Jasmine herself. They coat their weapons with the leftovers of Connor's blood. The battle won't prove easy for them, but it's doable.
This leaves Angel free for phase four.
***
Connor's waiting for him. Expecting him. Without guards now, which means Angel can walk right up to him and hit him across the face.
Connor hits back, and the fight begins in earnest.
He's his father's son. He puts up a good battle. They destroy the hotel as they literally crash through floors. Drop down to the hard marble floor of the lobby. Keep going, keep fighting.
Connor is fueled by fury. He spits at his father. Rages against him for ruining everything. For being such a failure at even trying to be a good dad.
Angel starts out just as angry, then realizes he's gone to a place past it now. One that's even tinged with regret.
Doesn't blame Connor for accusing him. In the end he thinks it's his fault too.
"I'm sorry," he says, at a point when they've broken apart, forced upon each other a second to regroup and, in Connor's case, catch a breath.
Connor wipes blood from his mouth. With abstract pride Angel thinks he almost looks like a vampire. "For what?"
"For everything," Angel says. "For Holtz. For Quor-toth. For not being the human dad you deserved. The Hell of it is - I love you, Connor. Even after all this. You're still my son."
Connor stands up. He wavers between the urge to listen or fight.
Angel stands as well. "I'm also sorry for this."
An instinct a father could be proud of kicks in. Connor moves to run, but Angel's faster.
He holds his son by the throat. Looks into his boy's eyes as he struggles for air.
"To save the world I had to sell a soul," Angel tells him. "The soul of a champion."
The knife comes out. The cut across the throat is clean, painless. It's the kind of cut only an experienced torturer could do.
Angel drops his son, watches the blood pour out which seals the deal.
Says the last words Connor hears before going into Hell: "I picked yours."
***
From his position downstairs, Wesley hears the chaos.
He's sitting in the back of the cage, looking out upon nothing in particular. He's been left alone for days. Too worthless at first for anyone to even bother coming to taunt him then, at a time perhaps halfway through, too minor on the scale of more important things to worry about.
Wesley thinks to himself that based on the noise, the world must be ending. In a way he's glad. Cuts down on the wait.
"I want to make something clear. For the record."
Wesley looks up. Sees Lilah standing on the other side of the bars. "You're not real."
She taps the metal. It echoes back. "Real enough."
Wesley still doesn't believe her. He's had these conversations before.
"For the record," Lilah repeats, arms folded, "I wouldn't have done it like this. Well - not *all* of it."
Wesley thinks about his current position. Finds it hard to think of Lilah ever being so outmatched that she would fall this far.
"Then again," Lilah says, "I never had anyone who was that important to me."
Wesley considers the words. Isn't aware of time passing, Lilah leaving, or the opening of the cage.
Instead it becomes like a dream world. He blinks, and Angel appears.
"Come on," Angel says, lifting him gently. "Let's get you out of here."
***
