Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's notes: Real Life really got in the way of writing recently, hence the huge long delay in posting this part. I hope to be a little quicker in getting the next chapter up.
"Hi," Connor said, returning Lindsey McDonald's gaze equally. "I'm Angel's son. You must be the guy who's been trying to kill me."
Lindsey McDonald flicked his look to Angel, who was smiling a little. "Got him well trained, Angel." He turned back to Connor. "I wasn't trying to kill you. I just wanted to see you."
"You must've forgotten to tell the demons that," Connor said, suddenly not liking the cold blueness of McDonald's eyes at all. "Because they seemed like they really wanted to kill me."
"And I guess you had to call him in to rescue you, eh?" McDonald said, gesturing at Angel.
"He killed them himself," Angel said quietly. "If you wanted to see him, Lindsey, all you had to do was call me. You think he's yours - why put him in danger? And why wait until now?"
Lindsey McDonald sat down, but Connor and Angel both remained standing. "I didn't want his adopted parents worried. You don't matter. I hoped it would be easier in LA."
"But why not write to me?" Connor demanded. "Why get me kidnapped? You could have sent a letter. That's what Dad did. Left a letter with the adoption agency."
McDonald waved his glass. "Seemed too simple. I worked for Wolfram and Hart too long. Nothing's ever simple with them, except death."
"Death," said Angel, still softly, "is always simple."
Connor felt a shiver run down his back at his father's voice. Angel took a step forward.
"So you slept with Darla, did you, Lindsey? When she was still human, or afterwards? Must have been afterwards, surely, when you thought you were looking after her?"
"When I was nursing her back to health after you set her on fire," Lindsey McDonald returned. "Yeah. I wasn't kidding myself. I knew what she was, what she had been."
"You never knew Darla," Angel said, scornfully. "Nobody really knew Darla, not even me. What was her real name? Where did she come from? She never told me."
"I cared for her," Lindsey insisted. "She meant something."
"She made me," Angel said. "She didn't do that for you, Lindsey. She didn't choose you, drain you, feed you, she wasn't there for you when you awoke, she didn't spend a century and a half with you. She was part of me, I was part of her. I killed her."
"I helped bring her back to life," McDonald returned, his voice showing some anger. "And then I helped her when she needed someone, when she was close to dying, again."
Angel shook his head. "No. She would have recovered without your help. She was too strong, I knew that. So she slept with you. But she slept with me, too, and she told me that Connor was my son. My son, Lindsey." Connor said nothing, and watched. "Did she ever tell you she was pregnant?"
Lindsey McDonald swallowed his whisky. "No. But I'd left town by then. Evil hand and all." He waved his right hand at Angel. "Remember?"
"All too well," the vampire said. "How's that going?"
McDonald shrugged. "Fine. Thanks for asking."
"So Lilah told you? You kept in touch with her, didn't you, Lindsey?"
"Yeah. And? You have a problem with that, Angel?"
Angel folded his arms. "Not my business, is it - until you make it my business. Connor is my son. You wanted to see him, you've seen him, that's it. No more demons. No more vampires. No more Wolfram and Hart. Stay here, play your guitar, stay away from me and mine."
Lindsey McDonald lay back in his chair, nonchalant. "Fine. Have it your way. What does Connor say about that? You're what, eighteen? Mind having him tell you what to do?"
Connor glanced sideways at Angel, whose glare had got even more dark, and then looked back at Lindsey McDonald. "The way I see it," he said, "is that when you're Dad's age," he accentuated the 'Dad' purposefully, "everyone's just a kid to you. And anyway, my adopted parents treat me the same. So no, I reckon I don't mind."
He met his father's eyes, and smiled, gaining a brief glimmer of a smile in return.
"Then you're a fool," Lindsey said, cutting in on the moment. "Both of you. You just accepted it when he told you what he is, Connor? Did you tell your other parents - Brigitte and Roger, aren't they? You didn't think for a moment he might be spinning you a yarn? The Irish used to be known for telling tales."
Angel laughed, shortly. "Come now, Lindsey. You've forgotten something. Lying was something I could never do, with my soul or without it. I never had the touch for blarney."
The ex-lawyer looked past Angel. "Well?"
"I guess I just knew," Connor said. "My adopted parents took it calmly enough."
"So I guess that's it," Lindsey said. "No going back." He reached for the whisky bottle and poured another generous shot. "While you're here, though," he added, swirling the liquid in his glass, and studying it, "will you do one thing?"
Looking sideways at his father, who was still glaring with folded arms, Connor said guardedly, "what?"
"Come and have brunch with me. Tomorrow. In a diner, broad daylight."
"Why?" Angel said.
"Because whoever his father is, we know Darla was his mother," Lindsey returned. "Maybe it was stupid of me, but I did love her. He's all that's left."
There was a heavy silence in the room. Then Angel took the last few steps separating him and the former lawyer, and looked down at Lindsey McDonald. "Brunch."
"Just brunch." McDonald spread his hands. "No strings."
"It does sound . safe," Connor volunteered.
"He meets you there, ten o'clock," Angel said. "He calls me. If he's not back in our motel by noon, I'll make damned sure I find you, Lindsey. Daylight or no daylight. If my son isn't safe, it'll be more than your hand at stake."
"No strings," Lindsey repeated. "Red Sun Diner, corner of Seventh and Lincoln. Ten am."
Connor nodded. "Okay."
His father stood staring down at Lindsey McDonald for a moment, and then turned away. "Come on, Connor."
Neither of them said anything until they had found a motel with a vacant room and had checked in. Angel locked the door and closed the curtain, and took a plastic bag of blood from the coolbox and swallowed it straight down without shifting into his vampiric face.
"So that was Lindsey McDonald," Connor said, once the bag had been thrown into the trashcan.
His father sat down on a bed and closed his eyes. "Yeah."
"You can tell he was a lawyer."
"He's a heartless bastard," Angel said with some heat.
"Coming from you," Connor said, joining his father on the bed, "that's saying something. I guess you want me to take a weapon tomorrow?"
"I think you had better," Angel said. "I don't think you should be going, really. Be careful."
"I will," Connor said, and he meant it.
Author's notes: Real Life really got in the way of writing recently, hence the huge long delay in posting this part. I hope to be a little quicker in getting the next chapter up.
"Hi," Connor said, returning Lindsey McDonald's gaze equally. "I'm Angel's son. You must be the guy who's been trying to kill me."
Lindsey McDonald flicked his look to Angel, who was smiling a little. "Got him well trained, Angel." He turned back to Connor. "I wasn't trying to kill you. I just wanted to see you."
"You must've forgotten to tell the demons that," Connor said, suddenly not liking the cold blueness of McDonald's eyes at all. "Because they seemed like they really wanted to kill me."
"And I guess you had to call him in to rescue you, eh?" McDonald said, gesturing at Angel.
"He killed them himself," Angel said quietly. "If you wanted to see him, Lindsey, all you had to do was call me. You think he's yours - why put him in danger? And why wait until now?"
Lindsey McDonald sat down, but Connor and Angel both remained standing. "I didn't want his adopted parents worried. You don't matter. I hoped it would be easier in LA."
"But why not write to me?" Connor demanded. "Why get me kidnapped? You could have sent a letter. That's what Dad did. Left a letter with the adoption agency."
McDonald waved his glass. "Seemed too simple. I worked for Wolfram and Hart too long. Nothing's ever simple with them, except death."
"Death," said Angel, still softly, "is always simple."
Connor felt a shiver run down his back at his father's voice. Angel took a step forward.
"So you slept with Darla, did you, Lindsey? When she was still human, or afterwards? Must have been afterwards, surely, when you thought you were looking after her?"
"When I was nursing her back to health after you set her on fire," Lindsey McDonald returned. "Yeah. I wasn't kidding myself. I knew what she was, what she had been."
"You never knew Darla," Angel said, scornfully. "Nobody really knew Darla, not even me. What was her real name? Where did she come from? She never told me."
"I cared for her," Lindsey insisted. "She meant something."
"She made me," Angel said. "She didn't do that for you, Lindsey. She didn't choose you, drain you, feed you, she wasn't there for you when you awoke, she didn't spend a century and a half with you. She was part of me, I was part of her. I killed her."
"I helped bring her back to life," McDonald returned, his voice showing some anger. "And then I helped her when she needed someone, when she was close to dying, again."
Angel shook his head. "No. She would have recovered without your help. She was too strong, I knew that. So she slept with you. But she slept with me, too, and she told me that Connor was my son. My son, Lindsey." Connor said nothing, and watched. "Did she ever tell you she was pregnant?"
Lindsey McDonald swallowed his whisky. "No. But I'd left town by then. Evil hand and all." He waved his right hand at Angel. "Remember?"
"All too well," the vampire said. "How's that going?"
McDonald shrugged. "Fine. Thanks for asking."
"So Lilah told you? You kept in touch with her, didn't you, Lindsey?"
"Yeah. And? You have a problem with that, Angel?"
Angel folded his arms. "Not my business, is it - until you make it my business. Connor is my son. You wanted to see him, you've seen him, that's it. No more demons. No more vampires. No more Wolfram and Hart. Stay here, play your guitar, stay away from me and mine."
Lindsey McDonald lay back in his chair, nonchalant. "Fine. Have it your way. What does Connor say about that? You're what, eighteen? Mind having him tell you what to do?"
Connor glanced sideways at Angel, whose glare had got even more dark, and then looked back at Lindsey McDonald. "The way I see it," he said, "is that when you're Dad's age," he accentuated the 'Dad' purposefully, "everyone's just a kid to you. And anyway, my adopted parents treat me the same. So no, I reckon I don't mind."
He met his father's eyes, and smiled, gaining a brief glimmer of a smile in return.
"Then you're a fool," Lindsey said, cutting in on the moment. "Both of you. You just accepted it when he told you what he is, Connor? Did you tell your other parents - Brigitte and Roger, aren't they? You didn't think for a moment he might be spinning you a yarn? The Irish used to be known for telling tales."
Angel laughed, shortly. "Come now, Lindsey. You've forgotten something. Lying was something I could never do, with my soul or without it. I never had the touch for blarney."
The ex-lawyer looked past Angel. "Well?"
"I guess I just knew," Connor said. "My adopted parents took it calmly enough."
"So I guess that's it," Lindsey said. "No going back." He reached for the whisky bottle and poured another generous shot. "While you're here, though," he added, swirling the liquid in his glass, and studying it, "will you do one thing?"
Looking sideways at his father, who was still glaring with folded arms, Connor said guardedly, "what?"
"Come and have brunch with me. Tomorrow. In a diner, broad daylight."
"Why?" Angel said.
"Because whoever his father is, we know Darla was his mother," Lindsey returned. "Maybe it was stupid of me, but I did love her. He's all that's left."
There was a heavy silence in the room. Then Angel took the last few steps separating him and the former lawyer, and looked down at Lindsey McDonald. "Brunch."
"Just brunch." McDonald spread his hands. "No strings."
"It does sound . safe," Connor volunteered.
"He meets you there, ten o'clock," Angel said. "He calls me. If he's not back in our motel by noon, I'll make damned sure I find you, Lindsey. Daylight or no daylight. If my son isn't safe, it'll be more than your hand at stake."
"No strings," Lindsey repeated. "Red Sun Diner, corner of Seventh and Lincoln. Ten am."
Connor nodded. "Okay."
His father stood staring down at Lindsey McDonald for a moment, and then turned away. "Come on, Connor."
Neither of them said anything until they had found a motel with a vacant room and had checked in. Angel locked the door and closed the curtain, and took a plastic bag of blood from the coolbox and swallowed it straight down without shifting into his vampiric face.
"So that was Lindsey McDonald," Connor said, once the bag had been thrown into the trashcan.
His father sat down on a bed and closed his eyes. "Yeah."
"You can tell he was a lawyer."
"He's a heartless bastard," Angel said with some heat.
"Coming from you," Connor said, joining his father on the bed, "that's saying something. I guess you want me to take a weapon tomorrow?"
"I think you had better," Angel said. "I don't think you should be going, really. Be careful."
"I will," Connor said, and he meant it.