The fight was furious, blood drawn from both combatants, until a lull in their battle found them observing each other warily across the small distance of their makeshift arena.
Baron, captain of his priestess' guards, bore a gouge over one eyebrow where the boy had kicked hard enough to split the skin down to the bone. Only speed had saved him from a far greater injury, turning his head away from the blow at the last possible moment. The demon child had grinned at that, cocksure in his abilities to overcome Baron and all his men in a way only one who had yet to taste the bitterness of defeat could be.
Now, the boy smiled no longer, one lip split and puffy when Baron had dealt him a lucky blow with the pommel of his sword. Too, the child's arm was badly bruised where, in his arrogance, he had over extended. Had Baron not used the flat of his blade instead of the blade itself, the boy would almost certainly now be missing a limb.
But Valenza had been quite particular in her instructions. Capture the son of the vampire Angel alive and relatively unharmed. There would be little point if the boy were to be crippled or permanently maimed, yet it made Baron's task all the more difficult. The boy was fast and strong, if rash and contemptuous of his attackers. And Baron was counting on that overconfidence to be the boy's eventual downfall.
"Had enough, old man," the child taunted, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with one grimy sleeve. He looked down then at the wetness and frowned, seemingly taken aback at the evidence of his vulnerability.
In response, Baron raised his sword en guard. As he had known from the very beginning, brute strength would not be enough to subdue the demon offspring. The child was as quick as a striking viper, but there was one more ploy Baron had yet to attempt, a risky venture that he doubted the boy would discover until too late. And if he were ever to gain access to Valenza's inviolate bedchamber, he would have to try.
He could feel his men stirring behind him, ready to engage once more in the fight, but he waved them back, much to the boy's consternation. The belligerent attitude the child held would be a welcome asset for their cause, but here and now it was nothing but a weakness.
Ignoring the boy's provocation, Baron lunged with his sword, point first, secure in the knowledge that his target would easily evade the clumsy manoeuvre. As he swung again, he allowed his attempts to become more ponderous, slower still, making the boy's speed seem all the more quicksilver. He doubled over when his opponent won a strike to his belly, and released his sword when it was kicked from his hand to clatter to the floor.
Falling to his knees, Baron glanced up in time to see a fist swinging towards his face and he closed his eyes, waiting for the devastating blow he knew this demon child could deliver.
It never landed, and slowly, Baron raised his head to look into the stormy blue eyes of the creature that stood over him. The hand that had made for his face was halted mid-strike, though by the tense set of the boy's shoulders, it could fly at any moment. And undoubtedly would after he had performed the final stage of his act.
*****
"A set-up?" Fred echoed the words as Angel strode purposefully towards the car.
"Get in," was all he said, sliding behind the wheel and starting the engine with a roar.
Fred quickly scrambled into the back and was thrown off balance as Angel reversed the car out of the alley with a reckless speed, uncaring of the crates that caught and were smashed beneath the wheels or of the splinters that scraped the dark, metallic paint work. The acrid scent of singed rubber was prevalent as Angel swung the car into a skid and braked with a jolt.
"Hey," Gunn protested.
"Sorry," Angel said, throwing the gears. "But I don't think we have much time."
He stepped on the accelerator, sending an unsuspecting Fred into another tumble of flailing limbs.
"Time for what?" Gunn demanded, bracing himself on the dashboard. "You got a hot date you forgot to tell us about or what?"
"I think someone or something wanted us out of the way," Angel explained, as they sped through the dark streets.
"So they could perform some nefarious deed in our absence?" Fred hazarded from the backseat.
"Exactly."
"Yeah, but what?" Gunn asked. "What could be so important that they had to make up some lame ass story about a vamp party and send us all the way out here just so we wouldn't gatecrash their own?"
"I know it doesn't make sense," Angel agreed. "If they, whoever they are, wanted us out of the way, why not fight us head on?"
"Maybe they think this is more funny," Fred said. "Getting us chasing around on a wild goose chase."
"Yeah, well you don't see me laughing," Gunn replied, grimly. "And if I get my hands on whoever set us up, their wild goose is gonna be pet food."
"Maybe they were after something at the hotel," Fred suggested. "Angel, you never did mention what you did with the Axis of Pythia."
"Yeah, what did you do with that 33 million dollar baby I got dead over?"
Careful not to look either of them in the eye, Angel shrugged as casually as he could manage. "I, uh, I kind of…gave it away."
"You did what?!"
Angel cringed at their twin shouts of disbelief.
"Well, it's not like we needed it anymore," he shot back, defensively. "No Cordy, so no Axis."
"Yeah, and no retirement fund either," Gunn grouched. "So what was it? Orphanage? Animal shelter? No, never mind, I don't wanna know. Just as long as the Lara Croft wannabe who tried to fry me didn't get her sparky little paws back on it."
Wisely, Angel kept silent, knowing the truth would only get him yelled at some more. And Gwen had been grateful. Snippy, but grateful.
"So if it's not the axis," Fred said, getting back on track, "what else do you have that's valuable?"
"Aside from a rundown hotel full of crap, that is," Gunn added.
"Hey, not everything important has monetary value," Angel said, thinking of family, thinking of Cordelia and of Connor..."Oh my god," he gasped out the blasphemy as realisation dawned. "Connor."
"You think little psycho brat was behind this?" Gunn said. "What, he gets us out of the way so he can break into the hotel and get his toy truck back…Ow!"
He rubbed his arm where Fred had hit him, massaging the sore muscle. She might be tiny, but she could sure pack a wallop.
"What he means," Fred said, urgently, "is that Connor might be the one in trouble."
Gunn glanced between the two, seeing Angel focused and furious, Fred's eyes wide and scared. "So they get daddy out of the way…" he began.
"So they can take my kid," Angel finished, and floored the accelerator.
*****
"Why?" Connor demanded again, hoping for a better answer this time now that he had vanquished his adversary. "Why do this? I am not your enemy."
The man at his feet reeled back, then steadied himself, curling a protective hand around his wounded side. "I have no choice," the man said. "My orders were to capture you, child."
"I am no child!" Connor spat back, in a temper.
He had stopped being a child the day Holtz had taken him to a remote mountainside and seemingly abandoned the frightened seven-year-old to the creatures that lurked within the nearby caves. It was at that moment that Connor had left behind the safe cocoon of Holtz's protection and entered a new phase, one in which he was forced to become the hunter, setting aside the luxury of a childhood.
When Holtz had returned for him the following day, eight of the creatures were dead beneath his young hand. Holtz had trained him well, and emerging through the fire, Connor had become as much a weapon as the sword his guardian bore.
"No," the man agreed, shaking Connor from his thoughts. "I did not believe that…until now. You will make a worthy addition to our numbers. My priestess and her sisters will be pleased by their newest acquisition."
Connor grabbed the man by the throat, hard enough to hurt, yet not so tight as to strangle the man. He leaned in close, staring the man down "I am no one's possession," he hissed, in defiance. Not Wolfram and Hart's, not even Holtz's, certainly not Angel's.
The sudden shift of the watching men drew Connor's attention and he glanced up, readying himself for another round of assaults. There came a blur of movement from the man he held and suddenly, something sharp was stabbed into his leg.
Releasing his captive, Connor staggered back, more from surprise than pain, to see a tiny needle driven through the denim cloth covering his thigh. Pulling out the thin blade, Connor stared at it, a minuscule droplet of his own blood beading the tip. A memory came to him then, of the girl, Sunny, lying slumped over the bathtub, a needle such as the one he held protruding from her arm. Dead.
Baring his teeth, Connor tossed the metal sliver aside and started for his supposedly defeated enemy. The poison might be swift, but his unnatural healing powers would slow its progress long enough for him to accomplish what he had remained for, then seek out help for an antidote. Perhaps from one of the centres that catered to the street dwellers. Or, and he shied away from the suggestion, from his father.
Features contorted in childlike fury, Connor grabbed the treacherous human by his collar and jerked him forward. He raised his fist, only to be halted by the next words.
"No point, child," the man murmured, softly. "It is done."
Even as Connor heard the words, the chill of the poison raced through his bloodstream, unfurling frozen wings within his body to wrap tightly, suffocatingly around his heart.
Air failed as the beat of Connor's lungs grew lethargic, stuttered, and a sweeping sense of vertigo overcame him, the ground spinning a dizzying space below. His senses swam and his eyesight narrowed to a tunnel as the poison swiftly did its dark work. His lifeless hand was plucked from where it grasped the man's shirt and his balance left him in a rush.
It is not possible, Connor thought, as, from a far off place, he felt his limbs fold gracefully beneath him, the cold embrace of the concrete seeping through the bare skin of his cheek as he was laid down. In Quor-Toth, he had been immune to such dark magicks.
A shadow loomed over him, blotting out what little light came from the moon above, the sound of many booted feet drawing closer. Then, with a sigh, Connor lost the fight and succumbed to the beckoning darkness.