A/N: This is another fic for the class. It will contain multiple chapters that will be published within the next few days. Once this is done, I'm probably going to move onto other fandoms because I got some ideas rolling around there. That doesn't mean I'm abandoning the WIPs, but I am getting a little tired of "Angel." I'm still working on the other ones, but it's slow going and it will be awhile.

Disclaimer: Except for OCs, characters belong to Joss Whedon, as do plot lines for all five seasons of "Angel." Which leads me to a spoiler warning — this fic covers all five seasons of "Angel." Read at your own discretion.

Summer, 1998, Los Angeles, Thawk! Comics Internet Chat room

dnabbit43: you guys heard about what happened with the Duvall case?

thetruthisoutthere123: yeah! Heard it was demons

Moderator: This is a reminder that the discussion for today's forum is over the age-old question, Batman versus Superman. please stick to facts dealing with comics, not fiction.

thetruthisoutthere123: the Duvall case is hardly fiction. and i have a theory on how Benjamin Duvall was appealed.

trekky91: of course you do

dnabbit43: weren't his lawyers from Wolfram & Hart?

thetruthisoutthere123: exactly! it was his lawyers.

Moderator: Please stop with your conspiracy theories.

dnabbit43: this a chat room, where conspiracy theories soar and blossom.

trekky91: of course his lawyers got him off. that's what lawyers do.

thetruthisoutthere123: uh huh. explain to me how a man who strapped a bomb to a kid in front of 20 eyewitnesses got off clean. no lawyer can be that good, unless…

dnabbit43: unless what?

Moderator: Seriously, Superman versus Batman. I've got a theory George Clooney actually wanted to be Superman, but didn't get the part so that's why his Batman was so bad.

trekky91: now look who's talking conspiracies.

thetruthisoutthere123: Duvall's lawyers are evil. in fact, Wolfram & Hart is evil. like, really evil. not just regular lawyer evil, but Dante's 9th Circle of Hell evil. you all know vampires and demons are real, right?

trekky91: i have a friend who's from Sunnydale. according to him, a vampire went on a serious rampage this past spring and tried to end the world.

thetruthisoutthere123: yeah, i heard about that too. i also heard he's dead. but anyway, my point is that I think W&H caters to evil.

dnabbit43: vampires and demons are real, okay. does that mean demon princesses are real, too? like in Dungeons & Dragons?

trekky91: yes.

Moderator: I give up.

thetruthisoutthere123: give up if you want to, but trust me when i say Los Angeles is screwed as long as Wolfram & Hart is here.

Lindsey McDonald, Evil Lawyer Extraordinaire, knew Don't Stop Believing by Journey hardly was an evil song. In fact, the melody and tone and lyrics suggested it was definitely an uplifting feel good song, and Lindsey had no doubt Journey had intended the song be affiliated with general goodness, or whatever.

But here's the rub — evil people could feel good and uplifted. Just ask any serial killer who gets off on technicalities or, and this is the important one, the lawyer who gets the serial killer off on a technicality.

Like him, for example. The Duvall case was his first at Wolfram & Hart, and damn, did he feel good.

So Lindsey believed he had every right to be singing this acoustic rendition of the classic rock n' roll song at this creepy ass demon karaoke bar.

The humans and demons in attendance seemed to be enjoying his performance, which he took much pride in. Regardless, if his boss, Mr. Manners, ever found him here, he could probably expect to be fired by Ritual Sacrifice.

But it didn't matter. It was worth the risk, this flying high feeling. Each strum of the cord reverberating back through his veins, his blood echoing in his ears in time with the beat. Lindsey didn't believe in much of anything. He worked for an evil law firm, and he could probably argue with some 20-something free-thinking hippie on whether or not that made him inherently evil as well, or just morally ambiguous, but he could honestly care less.

Right now, on this stage, was about him. And he was going to enjoy it. To hell with the child victim whom would inevitably need psychiatric treatments in the future after those few tense minutes with ten blocks of C4 strapped to him. Lindsey didn't sell his soul to the Devil to cry every time an innocent person or child got hurt. From rags to riches, that was Lindsey, and he didn't necessarily care how he got there.

All that mattered was that he was here, finally. In the spotlight, and nothing was going to stop him.

When he finished, the Host of the karaoke bar, a green-skinned, red-horned demon the likes of which Lindsey had never seen before hopped up onto the stage next to him.

"Woo-wee! Wasn't that lovely, folks? Not only does Journey rock, they sing about my favorite motto, don't stop believing! Why don't we give young Mr. McDonald here another round of applause?" The Host slapped Lindsey on the back as the crowd started clapping and hollering again. Lindsey liked the appreciation, but he could do without this guy's enthusiasm.

Oh well. He's here for only one reason anyway.

"While I speak to Lindsey here, Johnny the Haxlar demon is up next, who's going to treat us to some Beach Boys," the Host continued.

Lindsey nodded to the crowd and followed the Host off the stage.

"I know why you're here," the Host began, handing Lindsey a drink from the bar. "Congratulations on the Duvall case. You're first one, I assume? Your energy levels are the through the roof!" The Host was smiling at him, but the smile seemed strained. Lindsey wasn't sure what that meant though, so he nodded.

"Yes, sir," Lindsey said. He may be evil, but he still had manners. "First case, first win. One for one."

"And you want to know if you'll be able to continue the streak, if you should be worried."

Lindsey took a sip of his drink. He tried to hide the wince as the drink, whatever it was, burned down his throat. "My boss says he thinks I can accomplish great things."

"Well then, you have nothing to worry about. Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be fine."

"That's it? I need specifics."

Based on the Host's attitude throughout the night, Lindsey figured he was one of those neutral demons who didn't have an evil bone in its body, but the glare the Host turned on Lindsey at that moment was enough for Lindsey to nervously gulp the rest of his drink down, despite the burning sensation it left in his mouth.

"I can't give you specifics because I don't have any. I read a person's aura, not the future, comprende?"

Lindsey held out his hands in front of him in order to calm the demon. "Alright fine, sorry," he said. "So I'm going to be okay?"

"Short answer, yes," the Host said, although his tone still suggested he thought Lindsey deserved to swallow a bunch of knives. "And that's all you're going to get. I've got a lot customers tonight. Sorting through people's auras in a room full of evil demons is like drinking 20 gin and tonics and then riding Space Mountain. The one at Disneyland, not Disneyworld. It's not fun."

Despite the need to be reassured about the future of his job, Lindsey McDonald considered himself a pretty good lawyer, and being able to read people — demon or otherwise — came with the job title. And there was something about the way the Host was fidgeting slightly and glancing toward the stage, not to mention the demon's attitude, which seemed uncharacteristic for someone who was just doing his job, which told Lindsey the demon was lying. Or at the very least, not telling him everything.

Whatever. He got Duvall off Scott free after the idiot strapped a bomb to a kid in front of 20 people. He didn't need some demon wearing a too bright yellow three-piece suit to reassure him.

He gave a small smirk to the Host to let him know he knew the demon wasn't spilling everything, threw some money onto the bar for the drink and headed out the door.

On his way out, he thought he heard the Host start singing something, but he couldn't make out what it was.

Something about angels, maybe.

He didn't look back.