Faith wiped an errant lock of hair from her eyes. The wind had kicked
up with the setting of the sun, and she and Angel had taken to the streets.
She'd waited for Lindsey to come back to the motel so she could confront him, find out what had inspired the mindfuck he'd laid on her that morning. When he never returned, she broke into his room to find his things gone, and the clerk told her that he'd cleared out earlier that afternoon. It hadn't taken her long to piece together Lindsey's and Connor's disappearing acts.
"I'm gonna kill him," Angel muttered.
"Not if I get to him first," Faith countered. She punched her open hand with her fist. "He's a dead man." She hoped she would get first dibbs on cracking his skull. From what Angel had sniffed through the grapevine, the combined might of Wolfram & Hart was out looking for Connor, as well.
"Is this the place?" she asked, pointing to the entrance of a rundown bar.
"Lorne's contacts said this is our best bet."
"Wanna knock, or should I?"
Angel kicked the door open in one try. The wood shattered, but no one even turned to look in their direction.
"Ladies first," he said, motioning with his arms toward the door.
The inside was like most demon bars -- dark and dank, but surprisingly cavernous. This one smelled like a peculiar mix of rotting flesh and apple martinis. Faith and Angel split up, each looking for the ex- lawyer who would lead them to Connor.
Faith felt him before she saw him. She couldn't say how, only that a tingle spread from the back of her neck down her spine, until she was forced to turn around. He spotted her at the same time she saw him, and he darted through a back entrance. Without alerting Angel, she took off after him.
"Dead man," she muttered to her herself.
She followed him through empty boxes and garbage cans and over a chain-link fence. He was fast and agile, but she was the Slayer, and it wasn't long before she tackled him from behind, flipped him over and pressed a cold blade to his throat.
"Where's Connor?" she asked.
He stared at her silently, his eyes unreadable. Damn him for being so cool.
"Where's Connor?" she repeated, louder. She pressed the blade to his throat until blood started to bead from a tiny wound.
"Kill me and you'll never find that kid." His words were calm, as if he were giving a weather report, but they had the desired effect. She lifted the knife so it broke contact with his skin. He was right: If she ended his life here, they might never find Angel's son.
"I won't kill you, but Angel definitely will. Want me to sic him on you?"
Lindsey was quiet for a moment, playing out his options in his head. He was good at that -- weighing the pros and cons of a situation, finding the twist that best suited him in the time it took most people to figure out what day it was.
"He's safe," he said, finally.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Faith, trust me. Please."
"Trust you? Trust you?!" she screamed. "What kind of idiot do you take me for?" She stood up and dragged him to his feet by his collar.
"I don't think you're an idiot." His voice was still calm, almost soothing. She searched his face for some clue as to the game he was playing. "Why did you kidnap him?" she asked.
"What would have happened if I hadn't?"
She considered it for a moment. "He probably would have been killed by Wolfram and Hart's mercenaries."
Her own words sank in, and her eyes widened. "So, you kidnapped him to keep him safe?" she asked, skeptical. "Then why won't you tell us where he is now?"
Lindsey gave her a look that made her feel as if she were the stupidest creature walking the earth. "You think Wolfram & Hart aren't keeping tabs on you?" he asked.
Faith growled in frustration. He wasn't answering any of her questions. He was only giving her more.
"What do you plan to do with him? Hang out with him until Wolfram & Hart give up? And what about this other kid they're trying to knock off? How do we find out who he is, or rather, will be?" She let go of his shirt and paced across the alley. She wasn't worried about him running. If he tried, she was certain she could catch him again easily.
"Full of questions today, aren't you?"
She glared at him, and he threw up his hands.
"OK, OK. I'll tell you this much," he said. "This other person, whoever it is, isn't high on the lawyerly radar. They won't bother with an unborn child until after they've toasted Junior."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Hello," he said, tapping his head with an open palm. "I used to work for the most evil law firm in 16 dimensions," he reminded her.
"Fine," she replied. She wasn't appreciating the snark. "How do we stop them?"
Lindsey hesitated. He appeared to be debating with himself over something, and his lips pursed. Then he reached into his pocket and took out another microchip.
"Give this to Angel," he instructed her.
"What is it?"
"Don't ask so many questions. Just give it to him."
She took the chip and placed it carefully in her jacket pocket. There was no reason in the world for her to believe him. She knew Angel would never speak to her again if anything happened to his son because she accepted Lindsey's word. But something in his icy eyes begged her to take a chance, and she capitulated. Besides, she wasn't going to get any information out of him unless she tortured him, and the idea made her queasy. Lindsey tried to leave, but her voice stopped him cold.
"Not so fast," she warned. "I have one more question."
"What's that?"
"Was this last week some kind of stupid-ass game for you? See how fast you can get me in the sack?"
"I don't recall forcing my way into your room," he replied.
"Answer my question." Her eyes were dark brown steel. "I'm a big girl. I can take it."
Lindsey was quiet for a long moment, and then, finally, he said, "I'm good at games. And I like to win."
Faith felt the desire to pummel him melt away, leaving behind a numbness that made her hands cold. God, she was such an idiot. Not just for falling in love with him, but for standing there -- even now, after he'd all but admitted she was little more than a toy -- and hoping beyond hope that he would take the words back.
"Fine," she answered. "But for what it's worth, you were never a 'mission,' 'cause I'm not a missionary. I just believed you could be better than the fucked-up loser you are. I'm sorry I was wrong. Now drop dead." With that, she turned and left him in the alley with the rats and the darkness.
She'd waited for Lindsey to come back to the motel so she could confront him, find out what had inspired the mindfuck he'd laid on her that morning. When he never returned, she broke into his room to find his things gone, and the clerk told her that he'd cleared out earlier that afternoon. It hadn't taken her long to piece together Lindsey's and Connor's disappearing acts.
"I'm gonna kill him," Angel muttered.
"Not if I get to him first," Faith countered. She punched her open hand with her fist. "He's a dead man." She hoped she would get first dibbs on cracking his skull. From what Angel had sniffed through the grapevine, the combined might of Wolfram & Hart was out looking for Connor, as well.
"Is this the place?" she asked, pointing to the entrance of a rundown bar.
"Lorne's contacts said this is our best bet."
"Wanna knock, or should I?"
Angel kicked the door open in one try. The wood shattered, but no one even turned to look in their direction.
"Ladies first," he said, motioning with his arms toward the door.
The inside was like most demon bars -- dark and dank, but surprisingly cavernous. This one smelled like a peculiar mix of rotting flesh and apple martinis. Faith and Angel split up, each looking for the ex- lawyer who would lead them to Connor.
Faith felt him before she saw him. She couldn't say how, only that a tingle spread from the back of her neck down her spine, until she was forced to turn around. He spotted her at the same time she saw him, and he darted through a back entrance. Without alerting Angel, she took off after him.
"Dead man," she muttered to her herself.
She followed him through empty boxes and garbage cans and over a chain-link fence. He was fast and agile, but she was the Slayer, and it wasn't long before she tackled him from behind, flipped him over and pressed a cold blade to his throat.
"Where's Connor?" she asked.
He stared at her silently, his eyes unreadable. Damn him for being so cool.
"Where's Connor?" she repeated, louder. She pressed the blade to his throat until blood started to bead from a tiny wound.
"Kill me and you'll never find that kid." His words were calm, as if he were giving a weather report, but they had the desired effect. She lifted the knife so it broke contact with his skin. He was right: If she ended his life here, they might never find Angel's son.
"I won't kill you, but Angel definitely will. Want me to sic him on you?"
Lindsey was quiet for a moment, playing out his options in his head. He was good at that -- weighing the pros and cons of a situation, finding the twist that best suited him in the time it took most people to figure out what day it was.
"He's safe," he said, finally.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Faith, trust me. Please."
"Trust you? Trust you?!" she screamed. "What kind of idiot do you take me for?" She stood up and dragged him to his feet by his collar.
"I don't think you're an idiot." His voice was still calm, almost soothing. She searched his face for some clue as to the game he was playing. "Why did you kidnap him?" she asked.
"What would have happened if I hadn't?"
She considered it for a moment. "He probably would have been killed by Wolfram and Hart's mercenaries."
Her own words sank in, and her eyes widened. "So, you kidnapped him to keep him safe?" she asked, skeptical. "Then why won't you tell us where he is now?"
Lindsey gave her a look that made her feel as if she were the stupidest creature walking the earth. "You think Wolfram & Hart aren't keeping tabs on you?" he asked.
Faith growled in frustration. He wasn't answering any of her questions. He was only giving her more.
"What do you plan to do with him? Hang out with him until Wolfram & Hart give up? And what about this other kid they're trying to knock off? How do we find out who he is, or rather, will be?" She let go of his shirt and paced across the alley. She wasn't worried about him running. If he tried, she was certain she could catch him again easily.
"Full of questions today, aren't you?"
She glared at him, and he threw up his hands.
"OK, OK. I'll tell you this much," he said. "This other person, whoever it is, isn't high on the lawyerly radar. They won't bother with an unborn child until after they've toasted Junior."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Hello," he said, tapping his head with an open palm. "I used to work for the most evil law firm in 16 dimensions," he reminded her.
"Fine," she replied. She wasn't appreciating the snark. "How do we stop them?"
Lindsey hesitated. He appeared to be debating with himself over something, and his lips pursed. Then he reached into his pocket and took out another microchip.
"Give this to Angel," he instructed her.
"What is it?"
"Don't ask so many questions. Just give it to him."
She took the chip and placed it carefully in her jacket pocket. There was no reason in the world for her to believe him. She knew Angel would never speak to her again if anything happened to his son because she accepted Lindsey's word. But something in his icy eyes begged her to take a chance, and she capitulated. Besides, she wasn't going to get any information out of him unless she tortured him, and the idea made her queasy. Lindsey tried to leave, but her voice stopped him cold.
"Not so fast," she warned. "I have one more question."
"What's that?"
"Was this last week some kind of stupid-ass game for you? See how fast you can get me in the sack?"
"I don't recall forcing my way into your room," he replied.
"Answer my question." Her eyes were dark brown steel. "I'm a big girl. I can take it."
Lindsey was quiet for a long moment, and then, finally, he said, "I'm good at games. And I like to win."
Faith felt the desire to pummel him melt away, leaving behind a numbness that made her hands cold. God, she was such an idiot. Not just for falling in love with him, but for standing there -- even now, after he'd all but admitted she was little more than a toy -- and hoping beyond hope that he would take the words back.
"Fine," she answered. "But for what it's worth, you were never a 'mission,' 'cause I'm not a missionary. I just believed you could be better than the fucked-up loser you are. I'm sorry I was wrong. Now drop dead." With that, she turned and left him in the alley with the rats and the darkness.