THE LABOUR & THE WOUNDS
By Allegra
See Part One for all notes & disclaimers.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry this part has been such a long time coming. I have some other stories in the pipeline as well & have been writing the chapters in rotation.
A big, big thank you to all the fantastic people who reviewed my last chapter. I hope this meets expectations.
**********
"Hey, kid. We need to talk." Fax adopted his most paternal and assuring tone to melt Connor's icy heart. The teenager had arrived ten minutes earlier, only fifteen minutes before the fight. Most demons, regardless of their breed, liked to take some time to psych themselves up before getting in the cage. Not this one. Despite being nothing more than a child, Connor never came to the club any earlier than was absolutely necessary.
Connor was busy discarding the weapons he always wore when he left home. It might be against the rules to use them in the ring but in the back streets of Los Angeles, he was fighting the good fight. "Sure. What's up?" He caught the apprehensive light in Fax's eye and quickly asked, "The fight's still on, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, kid." Fax hit the teenager playfully on the shoulder and sat down beside Connor. "Why didn't you tell me that you're Angel's son?"
Connor tensed. "You spoke to Cole."
Fax nodded. "Now, don't go getting your boxers in a twist, kid. He's an employee of mine and it's his job to report anything important. And this is pretty important. Why didn't you tell me?"
Connor shrugged, insubordinately. "You never asked. Besides, what does it matter?" He hated talking about Angel but at least the discussion was making him angry enough to pull out a good fight later.
"It matters because Angel and his people have enough fire power to bring this place down if they felt inclined. It's taken me a long time to build this business.... Does he know you're working here?"
Connor did not want to lose his job. Recently, it had become the only part of his life that was private. He knew the times when Angel would come and watch him battle the undead in the alleys, how the only reason no one knocked on his door was because they already knew what he was up to. Working in The Cage was the final sanctuary. He could spend half an hour getting there, just dodging around enough to avoid being followed. To anyone else, it might seem absurd, but to Connor it meant everything. He was sick and tired of being told who he was, what he should do, where he should go.
There were other reasons, too. The money he earned here kept the teenager clothed and fed, giving him the kind of comfort and security no amount of stealing and foraging could afford. He was damned if the name 'Angel' was going to stop him from staying here. Connor straightened himself and said, defiantly, "No, he doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way."
Fax nodded in comprehension. "Yeah, it must be tough being that bastard's son. I hear he's become the epitome of self-righteousness what with that soul and everything. Plus, setting up an investigation service to kill your own kind? Sounds like he's started forgetting what he really is."
A wry smile crossed Connor's face, "Oh no, he hasn't forgotten that he's an asshole. He's doing a good job at that."
Fax laughed. This was just the attitude he was hoping to find in the young scrap. "Okay, well how's about we make a deal? You and I both know that he's going to find you sooner or later, given the kind of establishment this is. So, you promise to fight for me as long as I want and I'll keep the vampire off your back. What do you say?"
Connor eyed the older man suspiciously. There was always a catch when someone wanted to draw up a verbal contract and it invariably led to danger. Besides, it wasn't like the deal was anything special. "I can take care of Angel myself. I don't need to strike a deal with you to do it."
Fax grinned a gold-toothed smile. "Yeah, well I might not be able to keep you in but I can sure as hell keep you out. I could kick you out of this joint and see that you don't fight anywhere else again. Believe me, when it comes to clubs like this, I'm at the top of the game, kid. You don't want to mess with me."
The teenager weighed this up for a moment, only too aware of the demonic gleam in the man's eye. That was a pretty convincing argument. Connor knew the dangers would arise eventually with such a bargain but, at present, all he wanted was to stay here, make money, piss Angel off and get a high from the thrill of the fight. "Fine."
Fax grabbed the youngster's hand and shook it firmly. "Thatta boy. We got a deal then. I'll leave you to get ready."
**********
The club was pumping that night, fluorescent lights strobing around the sweaty, confined space. Like a Hammer horror film, it illuminated the hideous, deformed demon faces squashed together, most pushing towards the cage in the centre of the room, currently devoid of spectacle. Music blared from every corner, songs ranging from dance to jazz classics, whatever pleased the diverse range of punters. A few human faces could be glimpsed in the throng but even those could easily be demons concealing their true form.
Standing at the rear, near the end of the bar was a man who was no devil in human disguise. Wesley Wyndham-Price drew the labels of his long coat up around his chin, feeling the cold of the night air blowing in from the back door. He needed to keep a low profile. This was an establishment he had never visited before and the clientele were an unknown quantity to him, for now at least. At this point, it was the time to watch and wait. His fingers moved lightly to touch the sharpened knife stowed beneath his coat. Preparation was of the essence.
Offering a deterring stare to anyone who dared so much as glance in his direction, Wesley began to feel in his element once more. He was a fearless rogue demon hunter again and damn good at it, too. That was if nobody interfered. The ex-Watcher contemplated the prospect of Angel and his team turning up here tonight. For the first time since he had been forced into exile, Wesley had found himself testing moves and planning sequences of action should a fight break out. It wasn't that he wanted to show off. It was just that Wesley wanted to prove that he was capable of handling such matters on his own. Angel might have been the leader once but those times were over and the Englishman could be a formidable foe. It was a matter of honour and Wesley was prepared for anything tonight.
Buying a drink from the bar, he settled back in his corner, searching for suspicious lurkers who might give him a lead. The description could apply to almost anyone present in The Cage that night, including Wes himself, but then blending in was half the point.
Half an hour passed before an insipid, nervous looking demon entered the cage with a microphone. The whine of feedback instantly drew silence from the crowd and the demon began his roll up routine for the first fight of the night. The mass of bodies was soon whipped up into a suitable frenzy and Wesley couldn't help but be partially impressed by the sheer energy and enthusiasm the guy put into his words. He listened, rapt, as the first contender was talked up. The demon in question had adopted the nickname 'Fang' which Wesley stifled a smile over. It sounded more appropriate for a dog than an apparently seven foot demon.
Wesley began to consider whether this night was going to be of any business use at all. True, there were hundreds of demons congregated in many different varieties but none of them appeared to be there for anything other than good 'wholesome' fun. It was hard to imagine any of them turning away from the fight in search of getting their names in the papers. This was exactly the kind of place which was frequented by the most harmless of the netherworld. It was the local joint for those who, despite their gruff exteriors, were genuinely afraid of rearing their heads in human company. No, the real dangers were the ones who never set foot in places like The Cage but got their thrills from roaming the streets and dismembering hapless victims of their own. Then again, perhaps it was the thrill of the fight which ultimately led to brawls here, maybe more. It was worth sticking around for.
Wesley knocked back the last of his whiskey when the demon challenger made his way through the jeering crowds into the cage. Wesley recognised it as Ishtul demon, although beneath the customary and distinctive orange and dark green markings, there were clear signs of mutation or interbreeding. Wesley produced his glasses and squinted to get a closer look at the creature turning round in the cage, displaying his formidable attributes. If his research and past encounters were anything to go by, Ishtul demons did not have poisonous, forked tongues, neither did they have an eye in the back of their head. In fact, the slightly milky, electric blue colour of the iris was indicative of a Kirliun Froth monster. Those were very rare, especially in built-up areas. In fact, they lived out most of their hundred years or so deep within desert sand dunes.
Finally, there was something noteworthy about this dive and Wesley elbowed his way further into the depths of the crowd who were pushing harder towards the central arena. The single man was no longer an object of interest to the demons and he was able to get fairly close to the cage without incident. He wondered what the next offering might be as the compeer gave a swelling introduction to the mysterious second contender. From the sounds of it, whatever it was wouldn't stand a chance against the monstrosity parading the ring.
From his vantage point, Wesley noticed the sea of beings part to make way for a small, lithe figure which made its way to the cage without ceremony or boastfulness. At first, there was an audible hush which slowly escalated into cheers and rallies of support. Hands reached out to touch the bare, almost human-like skin. Wesley cleaned his glasses again as they were jolted out of place by a particularly enthusiastic Domnok demon beside him. The contestant stepped casually into the cage beside the compeer.
His sight blurred, Wesley could have sworn the opponent looked quite human. The blob striding round the small space was definitely flesh-coloured and it was dwarfed by the hulking Ishtul demon limbering up in the far corner. As the neutral demon with the microphone made his exit from the ring, reminding the mass of the non-existent rules, Wesley felt his glasses knocked fiercely from his hands by a sudden jostling surge as the fight began.
The ex-Watcher cursed under his breath and gingerly crouched to the floor, rummaging in the filth and stickiness of spilt drinks and cigarette butts for his precious spectacles. He had been meaning to get contact lenses years ago. Glasses just never fitted the occasion when it came to his line of work. Finally, after having his fingers painfully trapped beneath shoes and hooves alike, Wesley caught the frames just before they were trampled beneath some rather smelly webbed feet. He emerged after several punches had already been thrown and the crowd was already starting to choose their winner.
Wesley rubbed impatiently at the lenses one last time and quickly placed them back on his head before anything else could befall them. The two fighters had their back to him in the opposite corner, tangled together in a vicious brawl of punches and scratches. It was hard to tell from the spectacle alone but the crowd indicated that contender number two was faring better. How could that be? If only he'd step a bit closer to this side of the cage, then the Englishman could get a better look.
Wesley didn't have to wait long before he was obliged. The young creature was hurled viciously across the cage and landed mere feet from where Wes was standing. For a moment, the contender just lay there and the Ishtul demon seemed to be enjoying a moment of respite as he rallied the crowd into action. Wesley watched what appeared to be a young man slowly raise himself onto all fours, spitting up blood in a foul glob of phlegm onto the floor of the cage. His face turned momentarily towards the crowd so close to him and Wesley's eyes met with his in a moment of mutual shock.
Wesley's jaw dropped. He had come prepared for everything...except this. Connor. For a second, he could do nothing more than stare in disbelief, unable to process the thoughts flooding his brain. Sweat and blood poured off the teenager's thin frame and his slender fingers gripped the floor as he fought to regain his composure. Getting hold of his mixed emotions, Wesley reached for his knife and moved it discreetly into view. His eyes pleaded with Connor to understand that he'd get him out, no matter what it took.
As if the shock of seeing Angel's son there wasn't enough, the way Connor shook his head in grim determination told Wesley what his heart didn't want to believe. Connor wasn't here by force - he had volunteered. The question was, should he leave him to it or break him out anyway? If there was one thing the ex-Watcher hadn't banked on it was getting in that cage with nothing more than a knife in his pocket and a wooden stake up his sleeve. Maybe a good lecture afterwards would be enough.
A moment later it hit him, as he watched Connor fling the Ishtul demon from one wall to another. Angel would be here soon. That made the decision final. Connor had to get out of that cage now or there would be more than just a lecture at the end of it. Now, Wesley just had to get the boy's attention.
In Connor's mind, the fight seemed to be getting tougher. After seeing Wesley, he had been on a winning streak, perhaps because he wanted the ex-Watcher to see what a good fighter he had become. But the shock of seeing a familiar face there was putting him off his game. His mind was racing with thoughts where there should only be feral instinct. The Ishtul demon had got in a few good licks which, on any other day, Connor would have been insulted to miss.
Gradually, the blows seemed to rain down on him more rapidly and the teenager was finding it harder to avoid the lashing tongue and the third eye catching his every move. Even as calculations, manoeuvres and fears raced through his head, Connor knew one thing for certain. He couldn't lose this fight. Not because he couldn't play the hero in Wesley's eyes. Not to prove that the ex-Watcher's responsibility for sending him to a hell dimension had paid off in gold. It was because this was a fight to the death and if he didn't win, he wouldn't make it out alive.
Still the blows kept raining on him and Connor's movements blurred even in his own eyes as he tried to match punch for punch.
**********
"This is the place," Angel glanced once more at the directions Lorne had scribbled down. There were no neon signs or arrows pointing them to the right spot but the shouts were ample proof that they had followed the map correctly.
Gunn raised a disgusted eyebrow. "Boy, am I glad you made Cordy stay at home for this. If I've got to hold my nose to get past the door, I dread to think the complaints she'd have."
Angel chose to ignore that image. Fred and Cordy wouldn't have lasted five minutes in this dive, not to mention the no women policy. "Are you packing?"
Gunn nodded, "Like Rambo."
"Good." Angel took a deep breath and pushed open the grimy door and stepped into the sweat pit, grimacing at the heavy odours and swell of creatures leaning in towards the display at the centre of the club.
"Jesus, this place could do with some serious airing and I don't think Febreze is going to do it." Gunn flapped one hand in front of his nose, only succeeding in moving the pungent air around him rather than dispelling it. He glanced at his brooding companion for a reaction but Angel wasn't listening. He was frozen.
Gunn tracked the man's dark gaze to the centre of the ring. "What is it?"
"Connor." Without further explanation, Angel strode towards the throng of demons and began to push hard against the packed bodies as he tried to get closer. Evidently, Wesley had made his move at the optimum time because, even with his vampire strength, Angel found it hard to get past the first three rows of viewers.
Gunn, with natural human sight, was slower on the uptake and narrowed his eyes into the glaring lights around the cage, trying to get a handle on the two bodies grappling on the floor there. Then, like a bullet through the brain, he understood. "Jesus Christ!" Following suit, he pushed towards the ring with Angel. Vampire or no vampire, he was going to need back-up. Gunn only hoped that Lorne had been right about Wesley turning up. It would probably be the only time that guy might actually be a help rather than a hindrance.
When the crowd finally forced even Angel to stop several haphazard rows short of the cage, Angel took a moment to survey the situation. Gunn finally reached him, amidst many jeers and complaints from the demons he passed. He leaned in towards Angel's ear and shouted, "What's the plan?"
"I leap to the top of the cage, smash the roof in and get Connor out."
Gunn suppressed a smile. This was absurd. "Are you nuts?"
Angel's eyes flickered to Gunn's face momentarily before returning to his son in the ring. "What's wrong with that plan?"
"It would be quicker to tell you what's right about it, and that's nothing. Angel, I know you're high on your vampiness and all, but there's several of every kind of demon I can name in this joint and they're baying for a fight. Unless Connor wants out, he's going to be pretty pissed and so are these good folks. You don't stand a chance against all of them. You're completely outnumbered and did I mention surrounded?" Angel's gaze remained on Connor and Gunn shouted a little louder, "Are you even listening to me?"
The sight was mesmerizing. Angel rarely had the opportunity to see what his son was truly capable of. Often, they fought side by side with little time for spectating. Even on the nights Angel followed Connor and watched him from the shadows, he couldn't get close enough to see the precision and sheer power that child possessed. Because to Angel, he still was a child, even if he controlled strength beyond most men in their prime.
Angel was torn between a desperate urge to release Connor from the cage and a more primal pride in how well his son was kicking that demon's ass. His movements were agile, swift and drenched with sheer power. Yet, even before his own eyes, Angel saw a change come over the teenager. Where a moment ago Connor had seemed perfectly in control, the Ishtal demon seemed to be getting the upper hand. The teenager missed a punch and was sent flying across the cage where he landed hard, denting the tough metal frame with the sheer velocity. At first, Angel had disregarded the red sheen staining his son's skin as a result of small scrapes from the demon, but they were gradually increasing in number.
Angel watched in tense silence as Connor sluggishly warded off another blow. Staggering to his feet, the teenager began to regain his ground as he deftly flicked the demon's feet out from under it and sent it thundering to the floor. The kid didn't have it in him to flip himself up into fighting stance and Angel watched his knuckles whiten as he levered his body up using the netting for support.
The demon was beginning to regain its momentarily addled senses and Connor aimed a sharp kick to its head, forcing a violent growl from deep within the Ishtal's throat. Connor knew he had to finish the fight, but he needed a moment's respite. Wiping beads of sweat from his upper lip, he turned away from Angel's side of the cage where the vampire and Gunn were trying to get his attention.
"Damn!" Angel cursed. "He didn't see us. We've got to get closer." In those last few moments, all pride and interest in watching Connor fight had left Angel and now he just wanted to see his son safe again. He used unnatural force to carve another path deeper into the fray until he was only a few feet from the cage.
Gunn gestured to a door in the metal mesh. "There!" Together, the two men began to edge towards one corner of the cage. Then, something caught Angel's eye. Connor was no longer taking a well-earned breather, he was making eye contact with someone in the crowd. It was clear from the expression in his eyes that he was trying to communicate something to someone out there. Angel's keen vampire sight homed in on the area his son was staring at. "Wesley."
Gunn put one hand up to cup his ear, "What?"
"Wesley's here."
Gunn followed the older man's gaze, catching sight of a light reflected in the ex-Watcher's glasses. "What's he doing?"
"Not helping, that's for sure," Angel growled. Lorne had mentioned Wesley's expected presence at The Cage that night but the vampire was no longer sure he could count the Englishman as an ally any longer. Of course, Wesley had worked with Angel Investigations since his betrayal – sometimes for mutual benefit and sometimes out of the goodness of his heart. That notwithstanding, there was no denying that Wesley had his own agenda now and Angel had come to learn that unknown quantities only ever brought danger in the long run.
As if sealing his evaluation of Wesley as bad news, while Connor's back was turned, the Ishtal demon rolled slowly to the side and, with lightning speed, flicked a black, forked tongue in Connor's direction. It uncoiled and stretched into disgusting proportions and caught the bare skin of the teenager's foot before whipping back into the creature's gaping mouth.
Angel watched in amazement as Connor whirled on the demon with such rapidity, even the vampire wasn't sure what he had done. Then, in a flurry of muscular limbs, the demon's head was severed from his body and the sickening crunch of flesh and bone designated Connor the winner of the match.
A man appeared at the cage door which Angel and Gunn had been heading for and swung it open. Once inside, he held Connor's bruised arm aloft in a hero's stance and quelled the cries of the crowd with eulogies about 'The Kid'. Angel and Gunn watched in vague contempt as the rustle of money exchanging hands replaced the shouts and hollers.
Without further word, Connor was hustled down the steps from the cage and steered towards a back room. Angel was gradually being pushed further away from his son by the hordes who were trying to secure their evening's winnings. Reviled, he watched as Wesley managed to attach himself to the burly bodyguards jostling Connor out of the bar. "Come on," he instructed Gunn. Angel knew only too well that he could wait for Connor to come out of the back door once he was cleaned up, but he needed to see his son now. There were words to be said and he was damned if Wesley would be the one to say them.
**********
The rear rooms of The Cage were about as rancid as the main club but it didn't bother Connor. Perhaps it was because Quor'toth had shown him its fair share of disgusting abodes but perhaps his indifference had more to do with the fact that he was shattered beyond belief. Every inch of his body bore the tale of his night's activities. Even as he sat down on the wooden crates stacked in front of the mirror, he winced as he tried to find a comfortable position. Returning the bitter gaze of his reflection, he clinically surveyed the damage inflicted on him. Blood mingled with his sweat and ran in crimson rivulets down his bruised torso. Some cuts he had received in the early rounds were already beginning to heal but the more recent ones gaped open.
He hesitantly stuck a finger in his mouth, feeling for loose teeth. Content that the swelling on his jaw was the only damage, he grabbed a towel and began to rub away the red tell-tale stains of war from his body.
"That was quite a show."
Connor was too tired to care whether his visitor was friend or foe and he continued rubbing himself down without turning round. "Thanks."
"I just hope Angel was as impressed as I was." That caught the boy's attention.
Connor turned to face the man he now knew to be responsible for sending him to a hell dimension for his formative years. "Well, I guess I've got you to thank for my demon-fighting practice." Wesley's face cringed momentarily as if he had slapped and Connor momentarily regretted his harsh words. Cordelia had filled him on the details long ago, but it was still difficult to imagine that this man whom Connor had barely met could have held him in his arms only a few months ago.
Given the circumstances of his life, Connor knew he should hate Wesley for what he had taken from him. But he didn't. He was relieved. The teenager preferred his life as it stood, the one where he had enjoyed a human as a father and spent his time killing the demons. Holtz might not have been his father by blood but he had been more than Angel could ever hope to be. Wesley had given him a gift, had saved him from a reprehensible childhood.
Connor slowly digested Wesley's words about his father. "Angel was here? Watching?"
Wesley stepped forward into the room. "Yes, and I don't think he was best pleased." He waited for Connor to make some move but the boy simply smirked and searched in the floor debris for his socks and shoes. Wesley knew he wouldn't have to wait long before Angel and Gunn burst in and he desperately wanted Connor on his side. "Connor, I know all this might seem a good idea right now…"
Connor looked up at him, slyly. "Oh, it is a great idea."
Wesley drew a breath. "Why? Because it will make Angel angry? Show him that you can take care of yourself?"
Connor busied himself with tying his shoelaces. "Maybe."
"Look at yourself. You're a wreck. Is this really the best way? Connor, this is madness. Sooner or later you are going to get yourself killed."
The defiance in the young man's eyes was frightening. "So? What do you care? Last I heard, you weren't exactly looking out for everyone's best interests."
"I was trying to preserve your life…and Angel's." Wesley stopped himself. Now was neither the time or place to get into the particulars of what he had done to, and for the sake of, his friends. Connor was simply trying to get a rise out of him. "Connor…"
Wesley was cut short as a commotion outside the door interrupted him and Angel burst into the room, karate-chopping the last bodyguard to the floor. Connor seemed unruffled by the dramatic and somewhat violent entrance but the Englishman couldn't help noticing how pale the boy had grown over the course of their conversation. He had not been given the opportunity to study his miraculous healing abilities at close quarters, but Wesley momentarily wondered if those shallow scrapes were still supposed to be glistening with blood ten minutes after the fight was over.
Angel waited until Gunn was safely in behind him before slamming the door. "I don't want anyone in here until I'm done." Gunn nodded.
Connor just smiled like a typical teenager, amazed at yet another show of ridiculous moody bravado from his embarrassing father. Wesley had intended to keep quiet but suddenly found himself defending Connor when he saw the fury etched across Angel's face. "Angel, hasn't he had enough of a beating for one night…?"
Angel pointed a finger at him. "Shut up, Wesley. I'm only just getting over the fact that you were standing there doing nothing while my son got the life thrashed out of him."
Connor's head snapped up. "Hey, I was doing just fine. I won, didn't I?!"
Wesley crossed his arms defensively. "Well, I hadn't exactly come armed for battle in the very focal point of the club. And what was it that you were doing to help, Angel?" He spoke the vampire's name pointedly, a subtle but vicious reminder that he was the demon amongst them – the only one on a level with any of the goons in that room.
Gunn leaned hard against the door. He could see Wesley's point only too well, in fact he'd been thinking it himself, but he was damned if he'd admit it. In truth, he enjoyed watching the Englishman being pounded on. "Looks like you've outstayed your usefulness, Wes. So why don't you just hit the road?"
Much to Gunn's annoyance, Wesley completely ignored his fellow human's comment and turned his attention back to Connor. "Connor, where are you going to stay tonight?"
Angel put a hand to Wesley's chest, preventing him from taking a step closer to his son. "Hey, Connor's not going anywhere with you."
Connor stood up, angrily. "I'll go wherever I want. You're not my keeper."
Angel checked himself, aware of how irrational he was being. "I know, Connor, it's just…. You're my son and you've been through a lot. You need to be with people who care about you." In the last sentence, his dark eyes travelled pointedly to Wesley's face.
"Oh yeah, I forgot what a nurturing environment the Hyperion is. All those tasers and…" Connor stopped suddenly and groped for the table edge with trembling hands. He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the whirls of colour behind his eyelids to abate. It felt like the whole room was being spun round like a top. He felt a strong, cold hand on his shoulder. "Connor? Are you okay? What's the matter?"
With all his remaining strength, Connor shoved Angel away, stumbling as he did so. Wesley's hands caught him and helped him back to the crate he had been sitting on. The teenager put his head between his knees and focused on a bit of dirt stuck to the floor. Wesley's face appeared in front of his. "Connor, is there a bitter taste in your mouth? Slightly acidic?" Connor nodded.
Angel's concerned voice chimed in. "Why? What's wrong with him?"
Wesley frowned as he ran one hand across Connor's forehead, checking for signs of fever. He glanced up, suddenly in education mode. "That demon was some kind of half-breed, a fusion of two different demons. If I'm correct about one part of that being a Kirlium Froth monster, then the its forked tongue is poisonous."
Angel desperately wanted to reach out to Connor but, even in his frail state, the boy's eyes still darted warily towards him, making it quite clear he didn't want his father present. "We've got to get him out of here. Is there an antidote?"
Wesley gently pressed two fingers to Connor's wrist, registering his erratic pulse. "I'd have to consult my books."
"We've got a bigger selection at the hotel. Why don't you meet us there?"
Gunn cleared his throat uncertainly, peering through the door he had opened. "We've got to make it out of here first. Connor's got a real fan club. There's got to be about fifty demons waiting for him."
Angel cracked his knuckles, disconcertingly. "Fine. We just push him through, tell them he's not signing autographs tonight."
Gunn cocked his head and returned Angel's stare. "I don't think these guys are looking for a signature. I think they're after something a bit more…substantial."
Wesley's anxious voice cut in. "He's burning up. The symptoms are coming on thick and fast. We need to get him out of here sooner rather than later."
Connor was starting to shiver and Angel was certain the bruises mottling his son's torso were blossoming rather than healing. Each cut and slice stood out in sharp relief against his pale skin. The kid had stopped protesting against the unwanted attention now and Angel had to wonder if he was even listening to anything they were saying. Taking his chances, the vampire knelt before the teenager and placed a placating hand on his cheek. "Connor, can you walk? Can you make it out back?"
Connor braced himself and shakily brought himself to a standing position. Angel and Wesley supported him under his arms until they were certain he could hold himself upright. "Okay, let's go. Gunn, you and I take the lead with the weapons we've got. Wesley, you go defensive. Don't let them get close to him."
Taking a deep breath, Angel checked his team were ready and he plunged out of the door, fists swinging.
**********
"Fred, you really can't mix those two things. It's like, well, it's just wrong." Cordelia looked objectionably at the apparently edible concoction the Texan twig had placed in front of her.
"But I thought crab paste and peanut butter were both savoury. I mean, as long as I'm not mixing, it's okay, right?"
Cordelia felt nauseous just looking at the plate but the earnest expression in Fred's wide hazel eyes melted her heart. "Well, that's debatable, hon, but whatever lights your fire…"
Fred grinned and shovelled a piece of toast into her mouth as if were the best caviar in the world. "Mmmm, it's really good," she mumbled.
Cordelia raised her hands in protest. "Just don't do it near me, I'm feeling sick just imagining the taste sensation." She paused suddenly and frowned, "Oh, no, wait. That's not the food it's a…" Then the vision took hold, propelling flashes of images through her mind like a horror film she didn't rent. The sensation lasted only a minute, of being forced into horrific scenarios as a bystander then plucked back out before she'd barely grasped a useful bit of data.
"Cordy, are you all right? What was it?" Fred's concerned gaze greeted Cordelia back into reality.
"It's Angel and Gunn. It's that club, Wesley's there…and I think someone's hurt." She didn't mention that flashes of Connor had been in the vision, too. She just knew they had to do something and fast.
Fred wiped the crumbs absently from her mouth. "Oh my god! What should we do?"
Cordelia calmed herself and took a moment to think. "We've got to be the cavalry. They're outnumbered. Get the truck and I'll meet you round front."
**********
"Angel, I don't think these are the demons from the club!" Gunn shouted over the grunts and roars of battle as he swung his axe at the closest aggressor, lopping its head off in one neat scythe action.
"I think you're right. Why are they so aggressive?" Angel hollered back as he concisely dealt with two opponents with one double ended knife. "How's Connor?"
Wesley was bringing up the rear like a road sweeper from hell, swinging his sword from side to side while shielding an ever-weakening Connor behind him with his free arm. "He's holding up but we've got to get out of this soon!"
"There's too many of them. Anyone got any bright ideas?" Angel yelled.
"Ask them nicely?" Gunn offered, wryly.
As if in answer to their prayers, the sound of a car horn blasted over the incidental noise from the melee. Then, before any of the demons could register where the sound came from, Gunn's truck rammed backwards into the group. Some were caught under the wheels and others were pinned to the narrow alley walls by the monstrous hulk of metal. Angel and Gunn dealt with the remaining problem demons barring Wesley's way to truck.
The ex-Watcher half supported, half carried Connor to the rear of the vehicle and tossed him unceremoniously onto the tarpaulin. Angel and Gunn leaped after him. "Go! Go!" Gunn yelled, delivering a kick to a demon's face as it clamoured for the edge of the truck.
In a squeal of burning rubber, the truck barrelled out of the alley and it was with great relief that Angel noticed the demons did not choose to follow. Finally, he could direct his attention solely on his son's welfare. Wesley was holding the teenager with his head resting on the Englishman's lap. The grim expression on the man's lips was enough answer to the question burning in Angel's mind.
Wesley caught his gaze and said, "We should go to my apartment. I have several books on demon poison. I'm pretty sure they'll give us what we need. Plus, there is an apothecary nearby. I know the owners and they'll open up for me at any hour."
Angel nodded and tapped on the rear glass of the truck's cab, giving Cordelia the new instructions. Though he didn't feel the cold much, Angel drew his jacket tighter around him and gazed down on his ailing son. Connor's sweat-soaked hair lay in damp clumps against his forehead and Angel gently brushed them away from his face. The teenager was shivering with the cold wind but his skin was burning as if it were on fire. He prayed they got to Wesley's in time. The vampire hated to consider the possibility that they might be too late.
**********
END OF PART 7
Please, please review for me! I'd love to know what you made of that part. Or else, I might just leave Connor to die…(he,he)!!
By Allegra
See Part One for all notes & disclaimers.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry this part has been such a long time coming. I have some other stories in the pipeline as well & have been writing the chapters in rotation.
A big, big thank you to all the fantastic people who reviewed my last chapter. I hope this meets expectations.
**********
"Hey, kid. We need to talk." Fax adopted his most paternal and assuring tone to melt Connor's icy heart. The teenager had arrived ten minutes earlier, only fifteen minutes before the fight. Most demons, regardless of their breed, liked to take some time to psych themselves up before getting in the cage. Not this one. Despite being nothing more than a child, Connor never came to the club any earlier than was absolutely necessary.
Connor was busy discarding the weapons he always wore when he left home. It might be against the rules to use them in the ring but in the back streets of Los Angeles, he was fighting the good fight. "Sure. What's up?" He caught the apprehensive light in Fax's eye and quickly asked, "The fight's still on, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, kid." Fax hit the teenager playfully on the shoulder and sat down beside Connor. "Why didn't you tell me that you're Angel's son?"
Connor tensed. "You spoke to Cole."
Fax nodded. "Now, don't go getting your boxers in a twist, kid. He's an employee of mine and it's his job to report anything important. And this is pretty important. Why didn't you tell me?"
Connor shrugged, insubordinately. "You never asked. Besides, what does it matter?" He hated talking about Angel but at least the discussion was making him angry enough to pull out a good fight later.
"It matters because Angel and his people have enough fire power to bring this place down if they felt inclined. It's taken me a long time to build this business.... Does he know you're working here?"
Connor did not want to lose his job. Recently, it had become the only part of his life that was private. He knew the times when Angel would come and watch him battle the undead in the alleys, how the only reason no one knocked on his door was because they already knew what he was up to. Working in The Cage was the final sanctuary. He could spend half an hour getting there, just dodging around enough to avoid being followed. To anyone else, it might seem absurd, but to Connor it meant everything. He was sick and tired of being told who he was, what he should do, where he should go.
There were other reasons, too. The money he earned here kept the teenager clothed and fed, giving him the kind of comfort and security no amount of stealing and foraging could afford. He was damned if the name 'Angel' was going to stop him from staying here. Connor straightened himself and said, defiantly, "No, he doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way."
Fax nodded in comprehension. "Yeah, it must be tough being that bastard's son. I hear he's become the epitome of self-righteousness what with that soul and everything. Plus, setting up an investigation service to kill your own kind? Sounds like he's started forgetting what he really is."
A wry smile crossed Connor's face, "Oh no, he hasn't forgotten that he's an asshole. He's doing a good job at that."
Fax laughed. This was just the attitude he was hoping to find in the young scrap. "Okay, well how's about we make a deal? You and I both know that he's going to find you sooner or later, given the kind of establishment this is. So, you promise to fight for me as long as I want and I'll keep the vampire off your back. What do you say?"
Connor eyed the older man suspiciously. There was always a catch when someone wanted to draw up a verbal contract and it invariably led to danger. Besides, it wasn't like the deal was anything special. "I can take care of Angel myself. I don't need to strike a deal with you to do it."
Fax grinned a gold-toothed smile. "Yeah, well I might not be able to keep you in but I can sure as hell keep you out. I could kick you out of this joint and see that you don't fight anywhere else again. Believe me, when it comes to clubs like this, I'm at the top of the game, kid. You don't want to mess with me."
The teenager weighed this up for a moment, only too aware of the demonic gleam in the man's eye. That was a pretty convincing argument. Connor knew the dangers would arise eventually with such a bargain but, at present, all he wanted was to stay here, make money, piss Angel off and get a high from the thrill of the fight. "Fine."
Fax grabbed the youngster's hand and shook it firmly. "Thatta boy. We got a deal then. I'll leave you to get ready."
**********
The club was pumping that night, fluorescent lights strobing around the sweaty, confined space. Like a Hammer horror film, it illuminated the hideous, deformed demon faces squashed together, most pushing towards the cage in the centre of the room, currently devoid of spectacle. Music blared from every corner, songs ranging from dance to jazz classics, whatever pleased the diverse range of punters. A few human faces could be glimpsed in the throng but even those could easily be demons concealing their true form.
Standing at the rear, near the end of the bar was a man who was no devil in human disguise. Wesley Wyndham-Price drew the labels of his long coat up around his chin, feeling the cold of the night air blowing in from the back door. He needed to keep a low profile. This was an establishment he had never visited before and the clientele were an unknown quantity to him, for now at least. At this point, it was the time to watch and wait. His fingers moved lightly to touch the sharpened knife stowed beneath his coat. Preparation was of the essence.
Offering a deterring stare to anyone who dared so much as glance in his direction, Wesley began to feel in his element once more. He was a fearless rogue demon hunter again and damn good at it, too. That was if nobody interfered. The ex-Watcher contemplated the prospect of Angel and his team turning up here tonight. For the first time since he had been forced into exile, Wesley had found himself testing moves and planning sequences of action should a fight break out. It wasn't that he wanted to show off. It was just that Wesley wanted to prove that he was capable of handling such matters on his own. Angel might have been the leader once but those times were over and the Englishman could be a formidable foe. It was a matter of honour and Wesley was prepared for anything tonight.
Buying a drink from the bar, he settled back in his corner, searching for suspicious lurkers who might give him a lead. The description could apply to almost anyone present in The Cage that night, including Wes himself, but then blending in was half the point.
Half an hour passed before an insipid, nervous looking demon entered the cage with a microphone. The whine of feedback instantly drew silence from the crowd and the demon began his roll up routine for the first fight of the night. The mass of bodies was soon whipped up into a suitable frenzy and Wesley couldn't help but be partially impressed by the sheer energy and enthusiasm the guy put into his words. He listened, rapt, as the first contender was talked up. The demon in question had adopted the nickname 'Fang' which Wesley stifled a smile over. It sounded more appropriate for a dog than an apparently seven foot demon.
Wesley began to consider whether this night was going to be of any business use at all. True, there were hundreds of demons congregated in many different varieties but none of them appeared to be there for anything other than good 'wholesome' fun. It was hard to imagine any of them turning away from the fight in search of getting their names in the papers. This was exactly the kind of place which was frequented by the most harmless of the netherworld. It was the local joint for those who, despite their gruff exteriors, were genuinely afraid of rearing their heads in human company. No, the real dangers were the ones who never set foot in places like The Cage but got their thrills from roaming the streets and dismembering hapless victims of their own. Then again, perhaps it was the thrill of the fight which ultimately led to brawls here, maybe more. It was worth sticking around for.
Wesley knocked back the last of his whiskey when the demon challenger made his way through the jeering crowds into the cage. Wesley recognised it as Ishtul demon, although beneath the customary and distinctive orange and dark green markings, there were clear signs of mutation or interbreeding. Wesley produced his glasses and squinted to get a closer look at the creature turning round in the cage, displaying his formidable attributes. If his research and past encounters were anything to go by, Ishtul demons did not have poisonous, forked tongues, neither did they have an eye in the back of their head. In fact, the slightly milky, electric blue colour of the iris was indicative of a Kirliun Froth monster. Those were very rare, especially in built-up areas. In fact, they lived out most of their hundred years or so deep within desert sand dunes.
Finally, there was something noteworthy about this dive and Wesley elbowed his way further into the depths of the crowd who were pushing harder towards the central arena. The single man was no longer an object of interest to the demons and he was able to get fairly close to the cage without incident. He wondered what the next offering might be as the compeer gave a swelling introduction to the mysterious second contender. From the sounds of it, whatever it was wouldn't stand a chance against the monstrosity parading the ring.
From his vantage point, Wesley noticed the sea of beings part to make way for a small, lithe figure which made its way to the cage without ceremony or boastfulness. At first, there was an audible hush which slowly escalated into cheers and rallies of support. Hands reached out to touch the bare, almost human-like skin. Wesley cleaned his glasses again as they were jolted out of place by a particularly enthusiastic Domnok demon beside him. The contestant stepped casually into the cage beside the compeer.
His sight blurred, Wesley could have sworn the opponent looked quite human. The blob striding round the small space was definitely flesh-coloured and it was dwarfed by the hulking Ishtul demon limbering up in the far corner. As the neutral demon with the microphone made his exit from the ring, reminding the mass of the non-existent rules, Wesley felt his glasses knocked fiercely from his hands by a sudden jostling surge as the fight began.
The ex-Watcher cursed under his breath and gingerly crouched to the floor, rummaging in the filth and stickiness of spilt drinks and cigarette butts for his precious spectacles. He had been meaning to get contact lenses years ago. Glasses just never fitted the occasion when it came to his line of work. Finally, after having his fingers painfully trapped beneath shoes and hooves alike, Wesley caught the frames just before they were trampled beneath some rather smelly webbed feet. He emerged after several punches had already been thrown and the crowd was already starting to choose their winner.
Wesley rubbed impatiently at the lenses one last time and quickly placed them back on his head before anything else could befall them. The two fighters had their back to him in the opposite corner, tangled together in a vicious brawl of punches and scratches. It was hard to tell from the spectacle alone but the crowd indicated that contender number two was faring better. How could that be? If only he'd step a bit closer to this side of the cage, then the Englishman could get a better look.
Wesley didn't have to wait long before he was obliged. The young creature was hurled viciously across the cage and landed mere feet from where Wes was standing. For a moment, the contender just lay there and the Ishtul demon seemed to be enjoying a moment of respite as he rallied the crowd into action. Wesley watched what appeared to be a young man slowly raise himself onto all fours, spitting up blood in a foul glob of phlegm onto the floor of the cage. His face turned momentarily towards the crowd so close to him and Wesley's eyes met with his in a moment of mutual shock.
Wesley's jaw dropped. He had come prepared for everything...except this. Connor. For a second, he could do nothing more than stare in disbelief, unable to process the thoughts flooding his brain. Sweat and blood poured off the teenager's thin frame and his slender fingers gripped the floor as he fought to regain his composure. Getting hold of his mixed emotions, Wesley reached for his knife and moved it discreetly into view. His eyes pleaded with Connor to understand that he'd get him out, no matter what it took.
As if the shock of seeing Angel's son there wasn't enough, the way Connor shook his head in grim determination told Wesley what his heart didn't want to believe. Connor wasn't here by force - he had volunteered. The question was, should he leave him to it or break him out anyway? If there was one thing the ex-Watcher hadn't banked on it was getting in that cage with nothing more than a knife in his pocket and a wooden stake up his sleeve. Maybe a good lecture afterwards would be enough.
A moment later it hit him, as he watched Connor fling the Ishtul demon from one wall to another. Angel would be here soon. That made the decision final. Connor had to get out of that cage now or there would be more than just a lecture at the end of it. Now, Wesley just had to get the boy's attention.
In Connor's mind, the fight seemed to be getting tougher. After seeing Wesley, he had been on a winning streak, perhaps because he wanted the ex-Watcher to see what a good fighter he had become. But the shock of seeing a familiar face there was putting him off his game. His mind was racing with thoughts where there should only be feral instinct. The Ishtul demon had got in a few good licks which, on any other day, Connor would have been insulted to miss.
Gradually, the blows seemed to rain down on him more rapidly and the teenager was finding it harder to avoid the lashing tongue and the third eye catching his every move. Even as calculations, manoeuvres and fears raced through his head, Connor knew one thing for certain. He couldn't lose this fight. Not because he couldn't play the hero in Wesley's eyes. Not to prove that the ex-Watcher's responsibility for sending him to a hell dimension had paid off in gold. It was because this was a fight to the death and if he didn't win, he wouldn't make it out alive.
Still the blows kept raining on him and Connor's movements blurred even in his own eyes as he tried to match punch for punch.
**********
"This is the place," Angel glanced once more at the directions Lorne had scribbled down. There were no neon signs or arrows pointing them to the right spot but the shouts were ample proof that they had followed the map correctly.
Gunn raised a disgusted eyebrow. "Boy, am I glad you made Cordy stay at home for this. If I've got to hold my nose to get past the door, I dread to think the complaints she'd have."
Angel chose to ignore that image. Fred and Cordy wouldn't have lasted five minutes in this dive, not to mention the no women policy. "Are you packing?"
Gunn nodded, "Like Rambo."
"Good." Angel took a deep breath and pushed open the grimy door and stepped into the sweat pit, grimacing at the heavy odours and swell of creatures leaning in towards the display at the centre of the club.
"Jesus, this place could do with some serious airing and I don't think Febreze is going to do it." Gunn flapped one hand in front of his nose, only succeeding in moving the pungent air around him rather than dispelling it. He glanced at his brooding companion for a reaction but Angel wasn't listening. He was frozen.
Gunn tracked the man's dark gaze to the centre of the ring. "What is it?"
"Connor." Without further explanation, Angel strode towards the throng of demons and began to push hard against the packed bodies as he tried to get closer. Evidently, Wesley had made his move at the optimum time because, even with his vampire strength, Angel found it hard to get past the first three rows of viewers.
Gunn, with natural human sight, was slower on the uptake and narrowed his eyes into the glaring lights around the cage, trying to get a handle on the two bodies grappling on the floor there. Then, like a bullet through the brain, he understood. "Jesus Christ!" Following suit, he pushed towards the ring with Angel. Vampire or no vampire, he was going to need back-up. Gunn only hoped that Lorne had been right about Wesley turning up. It would probably be the only time that guy might actually be a help rather than a hindrance.
When the crowd finally forced even Angel to stop several haphazard rows short of the cage, Angel took a moment to survey the situation. Gunn finally reached him, amidst many jeers and complaints from the demons he passed. He leaned in towards Angel's ear and shouted, "What's the plan?"
"I leap to the top of the cage, smash the roof in and get Connor out."
Gunn suppressed a smile. This was absurd. "Are you nuts?"
Angel's eyes flickered to Gunn's face momentarily before returning to his son in the ring. "What's wrong with that plan?"
"It would be quicker to tell you what's right about it, and that's nothing. Angel, I know you're high on your vampiness and all, but there's several of every kind of demon I can name in this joint and they're baying for a fight. Unless Connor wants out, he's going to be pretty pissed and so are these good folks. You don't stand a chance against all of them. You're completely outnumbered and did I mention surrounded?" Angel's gaze remained on Connor and Gunn shouted a little louder, "Are you even listening to me?"
The sight was mesmerizing. Angel rarely had the opportunity to see what his son was truly capable of. Often, they fought side by side with little time for spectating. Even on the nights Angel followed Connor and watched him from the shadows, he couldn't get close enough to see the precision and sheer power that child possessed. Because to Angel, he still was a child, even if he controlled strength beyond most men in their prime.
Angel was torn between a desperate urge to release Connor from the cage and a more primal pride in how well his son was kicking that demon's ass. His movements were agile, swift and drenched with sheer power. Yet, even before his own eyes, Angel saw a change come over the teenager. Where a moment ago Connor had seemed perfectly in control, the Ishtal demon seemed to be getting the upper hand. The teenager missed a punch and was sent flying across the cage where he landed hard, denting the tough metal frame with the sheer velocity. At first, Angel had disregarded the red sheen staining his son's skin as a result of small scrapes from the demon, but they were gradually increasing in number.
Angel watched in tense silence as Connor sluggishly warded off another blow. Staggering to his feet, the teenager began to regain his ground as he deftly flicked the demon's feet out from under it and sent it thundering to the floor. The kid didn't have it in him to flip himself up into fighting stance and Angel watched his knuckles whiten as he levered his body up using the netting for support.
The demon was beginning to regain its momentarily addled senses and Connor aimed a sharp kick to its head, forcing a violent growl from deep within the Ishtal's throat. Connor knew he had to finish the fight, but he needed a moment's respite. Wiping beads of sweat from his upper lip, he turned away from Angel's side of the cage where the vampire and Gunn were trying to get his attention.
"Damn!" Angel cursed. "He didn't see us. We've got to get closer." In those last few moments, all pride and interest in watching Connor fight had left Angel and now he just wanted to see his son safe again. He used unnatural force to carve another path deeper into the fray until he was only a few feet from the cage.
Gunn gestured to a door in the metal mesh. "There!" Together, the two men began to edge towards one corner of the cage. Then, something caught Angel's eye. Connor was no longer taking a well-earned breather, he was making eye contact with someone in the crowd. It was clear from the expression in his eyes that he was trying to communicate something to someone out there. Angel's keen vampire sight homed in on the area his son was staring at. "Wesley."
Gunn put one hand up to cup his ear, "What?"
"Wesley's here."
Gunn followed the older man's gaze, catching sight of a light reflected in the ex-Watcher's glasses. "What's he doing?"
"Not helping, that's for sure," Angel growled. Lorne had mentioned Wesley's expected presence at The Cage that night but the vampire was no longer sure he could count the Englishman as an ally any longer. Of course, Wesley had worked with Angel Investigations since his betrayal – sometimes for mutual benefit and sometimes out of the goodness of his heart. That notwithstanding, there was no denying that Wesley had his own agenda now and Angel had come to learn that unknown quantities only ever brought danger in the long run.
As if sealing his evaluation of Wesley as bad news, while Connor's back was turned, the Ishtal demon rolled slowly to the side and, with lightning speed, flicked a black, forked tongue in Connor's direction. It uncoiled and stretched into disgusting proportions and caught the bare skin of the teenager's foot before whipping back into the creature's gaping mouth.
Angel watched in amazement as Connor whirled on the demon with such rapidity, even the vampire wasn't sure what he had done. Then, in a flurry of muscular limbs, the demon's head was severed from his body and the sickening crunch of flesh and bone designated Connor the winner of the match.
A man appeared at the cage door which Angel and Gunn had been heading for and swung it open. Once inside, he held Connor's bruised arm aloft in a hero's stance and quelled the cries of the crowd with eulogies about 'The Kid'. Angel and Gunn watched in vague contempt as the rustle of money exchanging hands replaced the shouts and hollers.
Without further word, Connor was hustled down the steps from the cage and steered towards a back room. Angel was gradually being pushed further away from his son by the hordes who were trying to secure their evening's winnings. Reviled, he watched as Wesley managed to attach himself to the burly bodyguards jostling Connor out of the bar. "Come on," he instructed Gunn. Angel knew only too well that he could wait for Connor to come out of the back door once he was cleaned up, but he needed to see his son now. There were words to be said and he was damned if Wesley would be the one to say them.
**********
The rear rooms of The Cage were about as rancid as the main club but it didn't bother Connor. Perhaps it was because Quor'toth had shown him its fair share of disgusting abodes but perhaps his indifference had more to do with the fact that he was shattered beyond belief. Every inch of his body bore the tale of his night's activities. Even as he sat down on the wooden crates stacked in front of the mirror, he winced as he tried to find a comfortable position. Returning the bitter gaze of his reflection, he clinically surveyed the damage inflicted on him. Blood mingled with his sweat and ran in crimson rivulets down his bruised torso. Some cuts he had received in the early rounds were already beginning to heal but the more recent ones gaped open.
He hesitantly stuck a finger in his mouth, feeling for loose teeth. Content that the swelling on his jaw was the only damage, he grabbed a towel and began to rub away the red tell-tale stains of war from his body.
"That was quite a show."
Connor was too tired to care whether his visitor was friend or foe and he continued rubbing himself down without turning round. "Thanks."
"I just hope Angel was as impressed as I was." That caught the boy's attention.
Connor turned to face the man he now knew to be responsible for sending him to a hell dimension for his formative years. "Well, I guess I've got you to thank for my demon-fighting practice." Wesley's face cringed momentarily as if he had slapped and Connor momentarily regretted his harsh words. Cordelia had filled him on the details long ago, but it was still difficult to imagine that this man whom Connor had barely met could have held him in his arms only a few months ago.
Given the circumstances of his life, Connor knew he should hate Wesley for what he had taken from him. But he didn't. He was relieved. The teenager preferred his life as it stood, the one where he had enjoyed a human as a father and spent his time killing the demons. Holtz might not have been his father by blood but he had been more than Angel could ever hope to be. Wesley had given him a gift, had saved him from a reprehensible childhood.
Connor slowly digested Wesley's words about his father. "Angel was here? Watching?"
Wesley stepped forward into the room. "Yes, and I don't think he was best pleased." He waited for Connor to make some move but the boy simply smirked and searched in the floor debris for his socks and shoes. Wesley knew he wouldn't have to wait long before Angel and Gunn burst in and he desperately wanted Connor on his side. "Connor, I know all this might seem a good idea right now…"
Connor looked up at him, slyly. "Oh, it is a great idea."
Wesley drew a breath. "Why? Because it will make Angel angry? Show him that you can take care of yourself?"
Connor busied himself with tying his shoelaces. "Maybe."
"Look at yourself. You're a wreck. Is this really the best way? Connor, this is madness. Sooner or later you are going to get yourself killed."
The defiance in the young man's eyes was frightening. "So? What do you care? Last I heard, you weren't exactly looking out for everyone's best interests."
"I was trying to preserve your life…and Angel's." Wesley stopped himself. Now was neither the time or place to get into the particulars of what he had done to, and for the sake of, his friends. Connor was simply trying to get a rise out of him. "Connor…"
Wesley was cut short as a commotion outside the door interrupted him and Angel burst into the room, karate-chopping the last bodyguard to the floor. Connor seemed unruffled by the dramatic and somewhat violent entrance but the Englishman couldn't help noticing how pale the boy had grown over the course of their conversation. He had not been given the opportunity to study his miraculous healing abilities at close quarters, but Wesley momentarily wondered if those shallow scrapes were still supposed to be glistening with blood ten minutes after the fight was over.
Angel waited until Gunn was safely in behind him before slamming the door. "I don't want anyone in here until I'm done." Gunn nodded.
Connor just smiled like a typical teenager, amazed at yet another show of ridiculous moody bravado from his embarrassing father. Wesley had intended to keep quiet but suddenly found himself defending Connor when he saw the fury etched across Angel's face. "Angel, hasn't he had enough of a beating for one night…?"
Angel pointed a finger at him. "Shut up, Wesley. I'm only just getting over the fact that you were standing there doing nothing while my son got the life thrashed out of him."
Connor's head snapped up. "Hey, I was doing just fine. I won, didn't I?!"
Wesley crossed his arms defensively. "Well, I hadn't exactly come armed for battle in the very focal point of the club. And what was it that you were doing to help, Angel?" He spoke the vampire's name pointedly, a subtle but vicious reminder that he was the demon amongst them – the only one on a level with any of the goons in that room.
Gunn leaned hard against the door. He could see Wesley's point only too well, in fact he'd been thinking it himself, but he was damned if he'd admit it. In truth, he enjoyed watching the Englishman being pounded on. "Looks like you've outstayed your usefulness, Wes. So why don't you just hit the road?"
Much to Gunn's annoyance, Wesley completely ignored his fellow human's comment and turned his attention back to Connor. "Connor, where are you going to stay tonight?"
Angel put a hand to Wesley's chest, preventing him from taking a step closer to his son. "Hey, Connor's not going anywhere with you."
Connor stood up, angrily. "I'll go wherever I want. You're not my keeper."
Angel checked himself, aware of how irrational he was being. "I know, Connor, it's just…. You're my son and you've been through a lot. You need to be with people who care about you." In the last sentence, his dark eyes travelled pointedly to Wesley's face.
"Oh yeah, I forgot what a nurturing environment the Hyperion is. All those tasers and…" Connor stopped suddenly and groped for the table edge with trembling hands. He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the whirls of colour behind his eyelids to abate. It felt like the whole room was being spun round like a top. He felt a strong, cold hand on his shoulder. "Connor? Are you okay? What's the matter?"
With all his remaining strength, Connor shoved Angel away, stumbling as he did so. Wesley's hands caught him and helped him back to the crate he had been sitting on. The teenager put his head between his knees and focused on a bit of dirt stuck to the floor. Wesley's face appeared in front of his. "Connor, is there a bitter taste in your mouth? Slightly acidic?" Connor nodded.
Angel's concerned voice chimed in. "Why? What's wrong with him?"
Wesley frowned as he ran one hand across Connor's forehead, checking for signs of fever. He glanced up, suddenly in education mode. "That demon was some kind of half-breed, a fusion of two different demons. If I'm correct about one part of that being a Kirlium Froth monster, then the its forked tongue is poisonous."
Angel desperately wanted to reach out to Connor but, even in his frail state, the boy's eyes still darted warily towards him, making it quite clear he didn't want his father present. "We've got to get him out of here. Is there an antidote?"
Wesley gently pressed two fingers to Connor's wrist, registering his erratic pulse. "I'd have to consult my books."
"We've got a bigger selection at the hotel. Why don't you meet us there?"
Gunn cleared his throat uncertainly, peering through the door he had opened. "We've got to make it out of here first. Connor's got a real fan club. There's got to be about fifty demons waiting for him."
Angel cracked his knuckles, disconcertingly. "Fine. We just push him through, tell them he's not signing autographs tonight."
Gunn cocked his head and returned Angel's stare. "I don't think these guys are looking for a signature. I think they're after something a bit more…substantial."
Wesley's anxious voice cut in. "He's burning up. The symptoms are coming on thick and fast. We need to get him out of here sooner rather than later."
Connor was starting to shiver and Angel was certain the bruises mottling his son's torso were blossoming rather than healing. Each cut and slice stood out in sharp relief against his pale skin. The kid had stopped protesting against the unwanted attention now and Angel had to wonder if he was even listening to anything they were saying. Taking his chances, the vampire knelt before the teenager and placed a placating hand on his cheek. "Connor, can you walk? Can you make it out back?"
Connor braced himself and shakily brought himself to a standing position. Angel and Wesley supported him under his arms until they were certain he could hold himself upright. "Okay, let's go. Gunn, you and I take the lead with the weapons we've got. Wesley, you go defensive. Don't let them get close to him."
Taking a deep breath, Angel checked his team were ready and he plunged out of the door, fists swinging.
**********
"Fred, you really can't mix those two things. It's like, well, it's just wrong." Cordelia looked objectionably at the apparently edible concoction the Texan twig had placed in front of her.
"But I thought crab paste and peanut butter were both savoury. I mean, as long as I'm not mixing, it's okay, right?"
Cordelia felt nauseous just looking at the plate but the earnest expression in Fred's wide hazel eyes melted her heart. "Well, that's debatable, hon, but whatever lights your fire…"
Fred grinned and shovelled a piece of toast into her mouth as if were the best caviar in the world. "Mmmm, it's really good," she mumbled.
Cordelia raised her hands in protest. "Just don't do it near me, I'm feeling sick just imagining the taste sensation." She paused suddenly and frowned, "Oh, no, wait. That's not the food it's a…" Then the vision took hold, propelling flashes of images through her mind like a horror film she didn't rent. The sensation lasted only a minute, of being forced into horrific scenarios as a bystander then plucked back out before she'd barely grasped a useful bit of data.
"Cordy, are you all right? What was it?" Fred's concerned gaze greeted Cordelia back into reality.
"It's Angel and Gunn. It's that club, Wesley's there…and I think someone's hurt." She didn't mention that flashes of Connor had been in the vision, too. She just knew they had to do something and fast.
Fred wiped the crumbs absently from her mouth. "Oh my god! What should we do?"
Cordelia calmed herself and took a moment to think. "We've got to be the cavalry. They're outnumbered. Get the truck and I'll meet you round front."
**********
"Angel, I don't think these are the demons from the club!" Gunn shouted over the grunts and roars of battle as he swung his axe at the closest aggressor, lopping its head off in one neat scythe action.
"I think you're right. Why are they so aggressive?" Angel hollered back as he concisely dealt with two opponents with one double ended knife. "How's Connor?"
Wesley was bringing up the rear like a road sweeper from hell, swinging his sword from side to side while shielding an ever-weakening Connor behind him with his free arm. "He's holding up but we've got to get out of this soon!"
"There's too many of them. Anyone got any bright ideas?" Angel yelled.
"Ask them nicely?" Gunn offered, wryly.
As if in answer to their prayers, the sound of a car horn blasted over the incidental noise from the melee. Then, before any of the demons could register where the sound came from, Gunn's truck rammed backwards into the group. Some were caught under the wheels and others were pinned to the narrow alley walls by the monstrous hulk of metal. Angel and Gunn dealt with the remaining problem demons barring Wesley's way to truck.
The ex-Watcher half supported, half carried Connor to the rear of the vehicle and tossed him unceremoniously onto the tarpaulin. Angel and Gunn leaped after him. "Go! Go!" Gunn yelled, delivering a kick to a demon's face as it clamoured for the edge of the truck.
In a squeal of burning rubber, the truck barrelled out of the alley and it was with great relief that Angel noticed the demons did not choose to follow. Finally, he could direct his attention solely on his son's welfare. Wesley was holding the teenager with his head resting on the Englishman's lap. The grim expression on the man's lips was enough answer to the question burning in Angel's mind.
Wesley caught his gaze and said, "We should go to my apartment. I have several books on demon poison. I'm pretty sure they'll give us what we need. Plus, there is an apothecary nearby. I know the owners and they'll open up for me at any hour."
Angel nodded and tapped on the rear glass of the truck's cab, giving Cordelia the new instructions. Though he didn't feel the cold much, Angel drew his jacket tighter around him and gazed down on his ailing son. Connor's sweat-soaked hair lay in damp clumps against his forehead and Angel gently brushed them away from his face. The teenager was shivering with the cold wind but his skin was burning as if it were on fire. He prayed they got to Wesley's in time. The vampire hated to consider the possibility that they might be too late.
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END OF PART 7
Please, please review for me! I'd love to know what you made of that part. Or else, I might just leave Connor to die…(he,he)!!
