An hour later, Lindsey exited the café with a single sheet of paper
in his hand. Faith was waiting for him in the truck.
"Find anything?" she asked.
"Lucky for us, Angel Investigations is listed." He tossed a piece of yellow phone book paper in her lap and stared straight ahead, his eyes locked on the road. She ignored the paper for a moment to stare at him.
"Do you have that thing patented?" she asked.
"What thing?"
"The Lindsey McDonald death glare." She did a perfect imitation of his glare, and he caught himself grinning despite himself. He put the key in the ignition and started the engine.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"The LA office of Wolfram & Hart."
* * *
The members of Angel Investigations listened quietly as Faith told her story. It was 9 p.m., and they were the only people left in the building, with the exception of the janitorial staff. With the news, Angel had had to explain to the others who Connor was. Faith noted that they seemed surprised, but not exactly knocked out of their shoes. She supposed that Fred, Wes, Gunn and Lorne, having seen even more strange shit than she had, were made of sterner stuff than that.
"What does the scroll say?" Angel asked.
"I don't know," Faith answered. "Lindsey was a bit vague on that. Only that your kid has quite a future ahead of him, and that the Senior Partners appear to be out to squash that future."
"Where's born-again lawyer now?" Gunn asked.
"He's waiting outside in his truck."
"Why didn't he come in here and tell us this face-to-face?"
"Because he'd never get back out alive," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"How do we know this isn't a game?" Wesley asked.
"I think he's on the level. I practically had to drag him here to give you the information."
Angel stood from his folded-arm perch on the couch. "He's dangerous, Faith."
"So was I. Maybe he's changed."
"Yeah, like we haven't heard that before," muttered Gunn.
Faith felt a surge of impatience.
"Fine, believe he's the devil or not, but right now he holds some very important information about your kid. If you don't want it, just let me know."
Angel turned inward, appearing to weigh his options, and then nodded. He moved toward the door and opened it to find Lindsey standing there.
"I thought you weren't coming in," Angel said.
"I decided to take my chances."
He walked past Angel and ignored the dirty looks directed his way.
Angel stepped up to him, his arms still folded. "What do you know about my son?"
Lindsey matched Angel's body language. "Hey, Angel, don't get mad at me just because your son is a screwup just like his old ma-"
A solid punch sent Lindsey flying across the room, and he landed with a thud near a solid oak desk. Angel moved in for a second strike, but Faith stepped between them.
"Enough!" she shouted, her impatience boiling over. "I like a good fight as much as anyone, but I didn't come here for a pissing contest. Angel, do you want the info or not?"
He was silent for a moment, and then he nodded and stepped back.
"What do you have?"
Lindsey pulled himself to his feet and made a point of not rubbing his face where Angel had hit him. He pulled off his left shoe, scratched open a piece of material and pulled out a microchip.
"I thought you said it was a scroll," Faith said with surprise.
"It used to be a scroll. Now it's a microchip. Welcome to the 21st century."
Angel took it and passed it onto Fred.
"See what you can get from this," he ordered her. She took it and placed it carefully in a box.
"I'll get right on it."
Angel turned back to Lindsey. "Don't leave town."
"Funny," Lindsey replied, replacing his shoe. "The last time we spoke you told me not to come back."
"Things change."
"Yeah, like you sleeping with the enemy."
Faith noticed Angel's muscles tense. She didn't know why was suddenly working for Wolfram & Hart, but she trusted him.
Lindsey was halfway to the door when Faith stopped him.
"Hey," she said. "Wait for me by the truck." He paused, almost as if he hadn't comprehended the words. Then he nodded and continued out the door. She locked eyes with Angel but spoke to the others. "Can I have a moment with your boss?"
The others left, and she was alone with him.
"So, is that a new cologne you're wearing? Eau du asshole?"
Angel grinned tightly. "It's complicated between me and Lindsey. He tried to kill people I care about."
"And I didn't?"
"It's different with him, OK? He's never going to change. Why are you suddenly on his side?"
Faith's eyes lowered, and she bit her lower lip.
"Oh, God," Angel said. "Please don't tell me you're in love with---"
"No, of course not," interrupted Faith. "Maybe I just see a lot of myself in him. It's not pleasant to watch."
Angel looked unswayed. "If he is for real, I promise I'll refrain from killing him."
Faith turned and walked out, wondering when Angel had gotten so hard. She trotted down the stairs and into the parking lot and was surprised to see that Lindsey had, in fact, waited for her.
"So, did he threaten to tear me limb from limb?"
"Not exactly," she said evasively. "So, where to now?"
"What?"
"Where are you spending the night? I was going to go look for a motel."
"Aren't you sleeping with Angel?" he asked. The moment the words left his lips he knew they came out all wrong, but, fortunately, she chose to interpret them as they were intended.
"I'd kill for Angel. Even die for him. But I'm not sure I want to be in the same room with him right now."
Lindsey graced her with his second smile of the evening. "The Holiday Inn. Wanna ride there?"
"Can I drive this time? You drive like Dawn Summers on a sugar high."
She knew he had no idea what she was talking about, but he dropped the keys into her open palm, and they drove away.
"Find anything?" she asked.
"Lucky for us, Angel Investigations is listed." He tossed a piece of yellow phone book paper in her lap and stared straight ahead, his eyes locked on the road. She ignored the paper for a moment to stare at him.
"Do you have that thing patented?" she asked.
"What thing?"
"The Lindsey McDonald death glare." She did a perfect imitation of his glare, and he caught himself grinning despite himself. He put the key in the ignition and started the engine.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"The LA office of Wolfram & Hart."
* * *
The members of Angel Investigations listened quietly as Faith told her story. It was 9 p.m., and they were the only people left in the building, with the exception of the janitorial staff. With the news, Angel had had to explain to the others who Connor was. Faith noted that they seemed surprised, but not exactly knocked out of their shoes. She supposed that Fred, Wes, Gunn and Lorne, having seen even more strange shit than she had, were made of sterner stuff than that.
"What does the scroll say?" Angel asked.
"I don't know," Faith answered. "Lindsey was a bit vague on that. Only that your kid has quite a future ahead of him, and that the Senior Partners appear to be out to squash that future."
"Where's born-again lawyer now?" Gunn asked.
"He's waiting outside in his truck."
"Why didn't he come in here and tell us this face-to-face?"
"Because he'd never get back out alive," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"How do we know this isn't a game?" Wesley asked.
"I think he's on the level. I practically had to drag him here to give you the information."
Angel stood from his folded-arm perch on the couch. "He's dangerous, Faith."
"So was I. Maybe he's changed."
"Yeah, like we haven't heard that before," muttered Gunn.
Faith felt a surge of impatience.
"Fine, believe he's the devil or not, but right now he holds some very important information about your kid. If you don't want it, just let me know."
Angel turned inward, appearing to weigh his options, and then nodded. He moved toward the door and opened it to find Lindsey standing there.
"I thought you weren't coming in," Angel said.
"I decided to take my chances."
He walked past Angel and ignored the dirty looks directed his way.
Angel stepped up to him, his arms still folded. "What do you know about my son?"
Lindsey matched Angel's body language. "Hey, Angel, don't get mad at me just because your son is a screwup just like his old ma-"
A solid punch sent Lindsey flying across the room, and he landed with a thud near a solid oak desk. Angel moved in for a second strike, but Faith stepped between them.
"Enough!" she shouted, her impatience boiling over. "I like a good fight as much as anyone, but I didn't come here for a pissing contest. Angel, do you want the info or not?"
He was silent for a moment, and then he nodded and stepped back.
"What do you have?"
Lindsey pulled himself to his feet and made a point of not rubbing his face where Angel had hit him. He pulled off his left shoe, scratched open a piece of material and pulled out a microchip.
"I thought you said it was a scroll," Faith said with surprise.
"It used to be a scroll. Now it's a microchip. Welcome to the 21st century."
Angel took it and passed it onto Fred.
"See what you can get from this," he ordered her. She took it and placed it carefully in a box.
"I'll get right on it."
Angel turned back to Lindsey. "Don't leave town."
"Funny," Lindsey replied, replacing his shoe. "The last time we spoke you told me not to come back."
"Things change."
"Yeah, like you sleeping with the enemy."
Faith noticed Angel's muscles tense. She didn't know why was suddenly working for Wolfram & Hart, but she trusted him.
Lindsey was halfway to the door when Faith stopped him.
"Hey," she said. "Wait for me by the truck." He paused, almost as if he hadn't comprehended the words. Then he nodded and continued out the door. She locked eyes with Angel but spoke to the others. "Can I have a moment with your boss?"
The others left, and she was alone with him.
"So, is that a new cologne you're wearing? Eau du asshole?"
Angel grinned tightly. "It's complicated between me and Lindsey. He tried to kill people I care about."
"And I didn't?"
"It's different with him, OK? He's never going to change. Why are you suddenly on his side?"
Faith's eyes lowered, and she bit her lower lip.
"Oh, God," Angel said. "Please don't tell me you're in love with---"
"No, of course not," interrupted Faith. "Maybe I just see a lot of myself in him. It's not pleasant to watch."
Angel looked unswayed. "If he is for real, I promise I'll refrain from killing him."
Faith turned and walked out, wondering when Angel had gotten so hard. She trotted down the stairs and into the parking lot and was surprised to see that Lindsey had, in fact, waited for her.
"So, did he threaten to tear me limb from limb?"
"Not exactly," she said evasively. "So, where to now?"
"What?"
"Where are you spending the night? I was going to go look for a motel."
"Aren't you sleeping with Angel?" he asked. The moment the words left his lips he knew they came out all wrong, but, fortunately, she chose to interpret them as they were intended.
"I'd kill for Angel. Even die for him. But I'm not sure I want to be in the same room with him right now."
Lindsey graced her with his second smile of the evening. "The Holiday Inn. Wanna ride there?"
"Can I drive this time? You drive like Dawn Summers on a sugar high."
She knew he had no idea what she was talking about, but he dropped the keys into her open palm, and they drove away.