THE LABOUR & THE WOUNDS
By Allegra

See Part One for all notes & disclaimers.

Thank you to all the lovely, fantastic people who have reviewed for me. It means so much & it really keeps me in writing mode. And especially for Ivorycat, I've tried to incorporate some more Gunn. I'm keeping things a bit ensemble/Connor focused at the moment, but I promise he'll get a decent look-in.

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CHAPTER 5

"This place is as dead as ditch water," Fred whispered. The lack of demon activity still did nothing for her confidence though, and she clung to Gunn's arm with one hand while the other gripped her crossbow with whitened knuckles. She had grown used to the violence and frights that living in Angel's world threw up but having a big, strong boyfriend always made her feel that bit safer.

Gunn's eyes darted around the darkened space ahead of them. "Would you mind not holding my arm so tight? It's cutting off my circulation."

Fred quickly released him. "Sorry, you're just like a really big comfort blanket, not to mention a very cushy shield."

Gunn gave her a sloping smile. "You saying you want me to get hurt for you?"

Fred giggled, "Well, you know I like a guy with big, manly scars."

Angel's voice hissed, "Can you guys leave the foreplay until you get back to the hotel?" The chastised couple looked at each other sheepishly and moved on. Angel let his vampire senses kick in, his nostrils inhaling the pungent smells of the underground. There was a lingering scent of cigarette ash and the putrid stench of unwashed bodies. Angel halted. "There were definitely people here. I can smell them."

Gunn dropped his guard. "You know, the whole brooding vampire thing might seduce some women, but I think you'd better keep your sniffer dog skills to yourself, man." He made a cursive glance around. "So, people were here. Don't you think it's much more likely they'd be bums and drug dealers than demons?"

Fred backed him up, "It does look pretty...normal, well, for the back streets of LA anyway. No strange ritual symbols carved into the floors and walls, no traces of human entrails. I'd say we've come up with nada."

Angel had to reluctantly agree. He desperately wanted to have a reason to be out on the streets, to have something to pummel. He was getting restless and staying at the hotel was getting harder by the moment. With the old Cordelia back, their relationship had become even more strained. Before, there had been a strange sexual tension lingering, but now she had had the widescreen, technicolour version of his life...not just the Angel part either. She had watched and felt everything he had done as Angelus. Angel could still remember the torture of reliving those memories when his soul had been returned. How could he possibly expect her to want him after seeing the demon inside him? No matter what sort of man he was now, that dark creature was still curled up inside him, waiting for pure love to unleash it. He couldn't ask her to commit to that. Once again, the parameters of their relationship had changed and, before their love could even begin, it had been snatched away and replaced with uncertainty and distance.

"Fine. Let's go home. There's nothing here." He sheathed the sword he had been carrying and headed back the way they had come, leaving Fred and Gunn to follow.

**********

His second night at the ring had not gone so well for Connor. Fax had conjured up a strange demon he had never seen before, not in Quor'toth and not in any book. It had possessed a strength completely beyond the average demon and, despite his agility, without weapons Connor had to fight with all his might to stave the creature off.

Every muscle in his body ached, he could still feel the damp stickiness of blood congealing under his shirt. His head pounded like a thousand soldiers were marching through his head. It hurt to think and feel. The teenager began to use a tactic he had learned in the darkness of Quor'toth, drawing his thoughts inwards upon themselves. Like a black hole, his subconscious folded matter over and over until there was nothing left to make coherent thought with. His mind recoiled from any urge to count his earnings or even consider which dark alley he might have strayed into. Connor's ever alert senses grew sluggish and tired. It was all he could do to make the climb back to the loft.

He leaned heavily against the door frame, surveying the small space. Some of Cordelia's belongings still lay where she had left them, scarves as makeshift table cloths and items of clothing. What he would give to have her there with him once more, to soothe the pain and ease his troubled sleeps.

Sitting down on a cargo box, he unlaced his shoes and tossed them haphazardly into the corner of the room. As he did so, Connor caught sight of something moving in the shadows. Gathering all his remaining strength and awakening his dulled senses, he called out, "Who's there?" At first there was no answer and the teenager slid a small knife from the nearest shelf.

"It's just me."

Connor looked more startled than relieved to see his father emerge from the darkness. "What do you want?" he rallied, defensively. Normally it would be a small relief to see Angel rather than some demon to battle, but not tonight. Tonight, the questions would be worse.

Angel was about to answer his son but his words caught in his throat when Connor shifted into the beam of moonlight shafting through the window. His face bore an array of mottled bruises and cuts, some of which were already healing rapidly. Nevertheless, they shouldn't have existed at all. "My God, Connor, what happened?" He strode towards his son, forcing his chin up hard into the light.

Connor deflected, ashamed to let his invincible elder see the marks of defeat on his skin. It was bad enough that the wretched demon had almost done him out of a night's pay but the humiliation of having to face his sometime family as well was more than he could handle right now. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

Angel dropped his hand reluctantly from Connor's neck. He hated how he always reacted, like an abusive father. He never waited for the explanation, his reflex was to use force. From the moment Connor had arrived in Los Angeles, almost every meeting had been opened with him slamming the boy against a wall or grabbing him. It was instinct, but unlike the ferocity of Angelus or his vampire guise, his actions towards Connor were always well intentioned. He had just had trouble adjusting to fatherhood. His son had been raised so differently to how he would have liked and once aggression was instilled in a person's heart it was virtually impossible to dislodge. Connor reacted to any situation as violently as Angel did. How could he set another example in the world he inhabited? Holtz had taught him well.

Adopting a gentler but firm tone, he countered, "It's not nothing, Connor. What happened to you?"

Connor moved backwards out of the moonlight beam and sat gingerly on the corner of the bed. He didn't want to let on how the bruising at the base of his spine pained him. "A fight, that's all."

Angel pushed, "What was it? I mean, it was something pretty big, right?" He knew how independent Connor was and pushing only made matters worse but it worried him how beaten up his son appeared. Never before had he looked so punished.

Connor eyed him, spitefully. "I don't know. It was dark. I wasn't ready."

"You weren't ready?" Angel repeated, unconvinced. Connor was always ready. If someone so much as opened his bedroom door when he was asleep, the boy was halfway out of bed with a knife in his hand. Connor shot his father a dogged look as if daring Angel to doubt him which the vampire picked up on instantly. "Fine, okay. You're okay though?"

Connor nodded and began to pull off his socks. When was he going to leave? "Did you want something or were you just here to spy on me?"

Angel dug his hands into his pockets, unhappy with the sudden conversation turn. He just couldn't get close to the kid. As soon as he made a gesture of fatherly affection, Connor recoiled from it like a mouse from a deadly snake. And once Connor closed the door, there was no turning the handle again. Admitting defeat, he sighed, "A friend of mine, well, more of an acquaintance really, was killed recently. He was a demon. Anyway, the point is, I wanted to ask you if you'd look out for any strange activity. I'm trying to get a lead."

Connor nodded, balling up the socks and kicking them under the bed. "Sure." He grabbed a magazine from the floor and lay back on the bed, signalling that he was done with their little talk. Angel mumbled, "So if you could just give me the heads up if you see anything, that'd be...great. I'll, uh, I'll just be going then." Connor made no move to say goodbye so Angel slipped back out the way he had come.

**********

"Jeez, kid, you scared the hell out of me!" Cole exclaimed, clasping one hand to his heart and catching his breath.

"Sorry," Connor mumbled. He might be their prize fighter but it was a mutual arrangement. He had to polite. "Fax here?"

Cole examined the youth before him. He hadn't had much opportunity to really look their latest attraction over properly. The kid made him feel a bit uncomfortable, like hearing footsteps behind you that take your stride, stopping and starting in synchronisation with you. There was nothing to latch onto to confirm the fear, just a gut feeling that something was amiss, that there was something evil lurking in the darkness. "No. He won't be back until tonight. Something I can do you for?" Connor shook his head and looked around the room as if searching for answers to his questions. Cole put down the pool cue he had been chalking up. "Listen, whatever it is, I can pass it on for you."

"It's not that important. I just wanted another fight."

Cole surveyed the child's passive face. "When for? I could probably find a space in the next week. I'm sure Fax would be thrilled. The more fights you do, the more money we can all make. You're our number one attraction."

"I wanted one for tonight," Connor said, bluntly.

The older man let out a mirthless chuckle. Was this kid for real? His face was still showing faint marks of the previous night's battle and Cole was pretty sure that wound in his side was still giving twinges. He might have miraculous fighting and healing abilities, but there was no way this kid was in a state to get back in the ring so soon. "Listen, kid. I admire your enthusiasm, truly I do, but you're taking things way too fast. I mean, there's a ton of demons out there willing to take you on. You don't have to fight them all at once. Give yourself a break. You earned it." He patted the youngster on the shoulder and steered him towards the pool table. "Why don't you have a game with me? Maybe a drink or two, if your dad doesn't mind, and then..."

Connor shrugged the man's arm off him. "My dad? What do you know about my dad?"

Cole raised his hands in surrender. "Woah there, kid! I don't know nothing 'bout your dad. I was just saying, you're underage and every kid's got a father...no matter what kind of demon he is. Unless of course you're poor old Floyd who was born to a muddy bog in Botswana." He gauged Connor's reaction. The youngster had prickled at the very mention of his father. It was always good to know what floated a contender's boat - loves, hates - anything that would get them in the mood for the kill. Maybe this was a good way in. Cole just had to play it nice and easy for a bit.

"Heads I start," he said, tossing a coin into the air. The penny spun in the air for a moment before Connor's hand shot out with lightning speed to catch it. He gripped it in his fist for a moment, savouring the expression of amazement on his companion's face. Unfurling his fingers carefully so that Cole could see, he smiled, "Guess I start then."

Cole watched in disbelief as Connor wiped the floor with him, potting every shot like a skilled hustler. "Sheesh, I guess it's just good for me we're not playing for money, huh?! Where did you learn to play like that?"

Connor shrugged. "This is my first time."

The older man made a concerted effort to keep his jaw from dropping. "First time? Wow, you've got a pretty charmed life, kid. You could make money any way you like. Fighting, playing pool. If I were a good enough player, I'd hit the road in an instant, travel the world, playing for money when I needed it. That's a dream you could live any day you want, kid. You could live my dream life!"

Connor's eyes darkened like a pipette of ink had been drawn over the lenses. "You wouldn't think my life was so great if you knew me, knew the people...things I have around me."

"Things? You mean demons? Like me?" Cole's step back from the table was almost imperceptible to the human eye but Connor had seen that look of fear before. It was fear of what he was capable of. He liked it, but not today. Today he just wanted to talk to someone without it having massive repercussions on his life tomorrow. That was the problem with living at the Hyperion, every chat became an anguished outpouring of sorrow and torment. Everyone wanted to help Angel's son, to look after him, to heal the psychological wounds he didn't even know he bore. They were waiting for him to have a meltdown and to let it all out. If only they knew that there was nothing to pour out. The darkness inside him was congealed to every organ. It wasn't viscous liquid ready to ooze out of him. It was still as much a part of him as it had ever been.

He was wary of Cole but he didn't want to send him running for cover. "No, not like you. A vampire. Evil inside waiting to come out. I hate him."

"Why don't you just kill him?" Cole asked, anxiously. He wasn't really asking the question seriously. He wanted to know what this youth was capable of, where he drew the line of justice. For future reference.

Connor's eyes lifted suddenly from the corner of felt on the table he had been fiddling with. They lighted on Cole and penetrated his core. The blackness that had overcome them deepened into hollow pits of hatred. "I tried. I sent him to the bottom of the ocean in a metal box...until someone set him free." His unflinching gaze rested on his companion's face, measuring its response to such horror. The act had seemed justified at the time but now even he recoiled a little at the memory. It wasn't shame that he had been duped into believing Angel responsible for killing his foster father, nor was it regret that the deed was not completed effectively. Rather, it was the way Angel had treated him upon his return - the fact that he hadn't killed Connor still confounded him. It proved the one thing that the teenager withdrew from, that Angel loved him.

To hate his father had been easy, it required no thought, no emotion. He was nothing more than a target to be eliminated by a process of premeditated steps. That he was loved despite the wounds he had inflicted was beyond Connor's comprehension.

Cole was still staring back at him, his face a mask of apprehension. Swallowing hard, he ventured, "What happened? Why didn't he hunt you down?"

"Because Angel is my father."

Cole froze and felt the prickle of sweat starting to break out on his forehead. Angel. There was a name he had heard one too many times for comfort. Clearing his throat uncertainly, hoping it didn't quaver too much, he joked, "Guess that sets up a whole new set of family values in your home, huh? So, uh, how come you're his kid? I thought vampires couldn't, you know, get it up anymore?" He moved away from the table, putting the pool cues back in their holders. This was going to be the kid's exit whether he liked it or not. Cole was starting to get a case of the willies and it wasn't anything to do with the shadows in the dimly lit room.

Connor looked around the hall, suddenly aware that he was giving too much away. It was one thing to find a non-judgemental voice for once but another to let his guard down completely. Heading towards the door, he mumbled, "I should go." Without another word, he practically bolted out of the door back into the alley.

Cole breathed a heavy sigh and ran sweaty hands through his hair. Fax wasn't going to like this new bit of news, not at all.

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END OF PART 5

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