THE LABOUR & THE WOUNDS

By Allegra

See Part One for all notes & disclaimers.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm flinging this up moments after I've finished it because I know it's been ages since I posted a new chapter. Therefore, I apologise profusely for any spelling errors or typos you find. Oh, and please, please, please review – just a tiny, weeny one will do!

**********

CHAPTER 8

By the time Cordelia pulled the truck into the parking space beneath Wesley's apartment building, the clouds had already darkened and spots of rain stained the cracked tarmac. It had the feel of a summer storm, refreshing yet ominously telling of the hurricane which would follow.

Gunn leapt off the back and dropped the metal guard as Angel helped Connor down. His face was ashen and a thin sheen of sweat crossed his brow but, even in his weakness, Connor was defiant. "I can do it." He shrugged Angel's hand away but made no move to do the same with Wesley who was supporting his left side. Angel resented the cold snub of his aid but knew better than to raise the issue now. Connor might fight the knowledge that his father loved him with all his might but Angel's sole concern was for the safety of his son, even if it garnered no thanks.

The boy leaned heavily on Wesley as the group made their way to the elevator and the older man gestured to Fred, who was standing closest to him. "Fred, my keys are in my back pocket." His mind could not have been further from thoughts of wooing but the horrified expression on Gunn's face reminded him of the bad feeling lying between them. He refrained from saying anything; Fred's partner might not be able to see past petty arguments to the larger picture but Wesley was bigger than that.

At the door, Fred fumbled with the set of keys, trying one after another in spite of Wesley's instructions. Cordelia piped up, "Got enough keys there, Wes? What do you need them all for?" He shot her an unappreciated look and she raised her hands in defence. "Forget I asked. I don't think I want to know."

Once inside, Wesley helped Connor to the sofa and quickly headed for the bookshelves, followed closely by Fred and Gunn. "We should start with Volume 2 of Shanks 'Demon Mutation'."

Fred nodded, donning her glasses. "I'll check the 'Interdimensional Apothecary', see what provisions we might need."

Gunn felt his gut tying itself into knots. Just watching the pair together made him feel sick. He told himself it was just the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head, that he should trust his girl more, but it wasn't here that was the problem. Ever since Wesley had been thrown out into the cold, he had changed into a man with a heart of steel. Where once there had been purpose, now there was determination, a ruthless capacity to chase down what he wanted and use any means necessary to achieve it. No, Fred was not the danger. She was merely the victim of his predatory advances. But there was more. It didn't take a genius to see the pair of bookworms together to see where the chemistry lay. It was as if they could read each other's thoughts. Gunn had trouble even guessing what Fred wanted for breakfast.

"Can I give you a hand, baby?" He slipped his hands protectively around Fred's waist. She turned to face him, her nose already buried in one of Wesley's leather-bound volumes. He withdrew his arms, noting the serious no-nonsense expression on her face.

"Uh, you could..." She stopped short, glancing along the shelf for inspiration. Much to Gunn's annoyance, Wesley chimed in, "Gunn got a better look at most of those demons than the rest of us. Perhaps he could see if he could identify any for us. There are several demon species texts on the bottom shelf."

Something snapped inside Gunn's head and he whirled on the Englishman. "Hey, I don't remember asking for an order from you, English!"

Wesley looked up in surprise but appeared unruffled. "I'm sorry, perhaps I misunderstood what you were doing here. You know your own way out."

Gunn felt uncomfortable off his own turf, especially when the new ground happened to be his enemy's apartment. "You could at least talk to me like I'm here!"

"Fine." Wesley stepped closer. "Why don't you identify the demons we saw in those books right there? Excuse me while I try to find a way to save Connor's life." He pointed to the dusty corner of the room and went directly back to reading his books.

From his vantage point on the sofa, the teenager had been taking in the whole situation perfectly clearly. At this final statement, he retorted, "I'm not dying. In fact, I feel much better."

Cordelia appeared at the hatch to the kitchen, her face taking on matronly properties. "Connor, you look like death."

"Yeah, well I feel better." To prove the point, he stood up and headed towards the kitchen where Angel's bulky figure blocked him. The older man's face bore the same expression it had the night he had returned from the watery depths of the Atlantic. The hooded brow only served to blacken his eyes further, hardening them like onyx as he stared down his son.

Connor swallowed tersely. He could guess what was coming; he only hoped the blows weren't too hard. He might be feeling better but that was just from the demon poison, not the half healed bruises all over his body.

"You're feeling better? Physically?" Angel inquired, his voice devoid of emotion.

Connor shrugged, warily. "I guess."

"But you must be feeling pretty sick in your mind, right? I mean, nobody functioning on all cylinders would purposely throw themselves into a cage full of demons just for fun. Would they? I mean, that just sounds insane to my ears." He took a step forward, forcing Connor to move backwards towards the sofa. The menacing presence was not lost on the others in the room and awkward silence descended. All but Connor stood meekly, as if being chastised by a school master. Yet, Angel's son was defiant.

"I don't know what kind of game you think this is, Connor, but I've had enough. You sink me to the bottom of the ocean and I forgive you, you take one liberty after another in my house and I let it pass. But times are changing, Connor, because whatever you want to believe, I am still your father. You are still my son." He said the last sentence slowly, every syllable dripping with deliberate menace. "You can never change that...just like you can never change how much I love you - with every fibre of my being. Hell, if someone had told me that by enduring eternity in a metal box underwater, I would have bought the boat myself but this..." He waved a finger at the bruises decorating Connor's skin, "...this has got to stop." The boy opened his mouth to speak but Angel cut him off. "I don't want to hear your excuses, I don't want to hear all the reasons why this world sucks, that I suck and that you can do whatever you want because you can't."

Connor crossed his arms, refusing to back down. "You going to stop me?"

"No, and that's just it. Look around you, Connor. It's time to wake up and smell reality. Do you think anyone in this room has the kind of life they asked for? Yet here they are. I can't stop you, son, but I can't keep being here to pick up the pieces. It's not fair."

Connor narrowed his eyes, sardonically. "You said it yourself, life sucks. I never asked you to help me. I can look after myself."

"You mean like you are now?" Angel rallied.

"I was doing just fine! I won that fight, no thanks to any of you."

Cordelia added, "What about the poison?"

Connor's eyes blazed. "You too? Thanks, Cordelia."

Cordelia came up beside Angel, trying to calm the situation. "Connor, I'm just worried about you."

"Well don't." His angry gaze returned to his father. "I guess I should be thanking you for making me a freak. It looks like your genes just saved me from a horrible death."

Angel began to speak but Cordelia didn't need a vision to see where this little 'discussion' was leading. They couldn't afford to let Connor run off in such a state. He might be right about his demonic healing powers saving him from a grisly fate or they might just be delaying the effects. She quietly placed a hand on Angel's arm and looked earnestly at the bitter teenager in front of them. "Connor, can't you see that we are all concerned for your safety? We're not trying to spoil your fun or stop you working things out for yourself but..." She sighed, willing herself to go on. "...Angel's right about one thing. Even if we wanted to, we won't always be here to help you, to pick up the pieces."

Connor sneered, "Pick up the pieces?" His eyes were the colour of a storm cloud about to burst but Angel refused to back down as his son plunged in the knife. "Isn't breaking me how you get your kicks?"

The boy had been unprepared for the onslaught of emotions this argument was digging out of him. Not even in the worst fight had he felt so out of control. He could not hold back the hateful words tumbling out of his mouth and a big part of him didn't care. It was like a release. Maybe he'd be better off without a father at all, to make Angel hate him so much that the world would become simple again. He could tear down the fabric of this complicated world Holtz had returned him to and destroy the greyness which had mixed his colours from black and white. He felt tears pricking his eyes and his voice beginning to tremble but still the words kept coming. "Why should I care what you think? Why should I respect you? You mean nothing to me, you've done nothing for me!"

Angel could see the dam of emotions ready to burst but he was lost for words. The teenager was right, wasn't he? How often had a hug only been followed by violence. He was an abusive father and he hated himself for it. Holtz had been sly. With nothing more than insinuations in that impressionable boy's head, he had brought out the monster in Angel time and time again. Those moments could never be put back, only made up for. "Connor, if you'd only let me get close..."

He reached out to touch his son but Connor flinched away. "I don't want anything from you." A single tear traced a path down his drawn cheek and he began to back towards the door. He wasn't going to give Angel the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

Cordelia had anticipated the action and was already barring the way. "Connor, you can't leave. What if the poison takes effect?"

"I don't care!" Connor shoved her aside with unnatural force and tore away down the corridor with Gunn in pursuit.

Fred and Wesley rushed to Cordelia's side and helped her to her feet. She looked over at Angel, "Aren't you going to go after him? Gunn will never catch up."

Angel's blank stare slowly rose to meet hers. "I'd only drive him further away." Momentarily, his eyes wandered back to the spot where Connor had been standing only seconds ago as if still expecting to see him, then he turned away hopelessly.

Fred whispered to Wesley and Cordelia, "How are we going to find Connor without Angel?"

"We won't, unless he wants to be found," Wesley noted, grimly.

**********

Connor's feet pounded the tarmac as he willed himself forward. Occasionally, he spared a glance backwards to make sure no one had followed and was rewarded with nothing more than shadows. Finally, his pace slowed and the teenager allowed his breath to even out and his head cleared enough to give him a moment's recollection of events.

As much as he hated to admit that he might be at fault, he had to wonder whether running away from Angel and the others had been the best of ideas. If his body was telling the truth, Connor may have been a little hasty in dismissing the poison as no match for his demonic make-up. Then again, he couldn't bring himself to go back. It would only entail another lecture, maybe worse, and Connor would give anything to avoid seeing Angel for, well, at least the rest of his life. The vampire had looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

The teenager shivered against the cold wind left in the wind's wake. It was only now that he realised he had left his jacket back at Wesley's apartment, including all his earnings. Connor cursed under his breath. He was starving but he had quickly learned that stealing was not the way to feed himself while lying low. Following the scent of food to the nearest diner, he began searching the trash can perimeter. People were always dumping half-eaten burgers and bags of fries. Maybe he'd get lucky.

Plunging his hand into the bin, Connor grimaced as it hit something squelchy and wet. Withdrawing his fingers from the offending article, he wiped the pink milkshake muck onto his jeans. He was hungry, true, but this was ridiculous; he was a resourceful guy so there must be other options. Most stores were shut for the night, Wesley's apartment was out, so what about returning to the Hyperion? No, too risky. Given the fragile relations between Wesley and his former crew, Angel and co wouldn't stay at his place long. They'd probably head straight back to the hotel to think up more ways to make Connor's life a living hell. That did not leave him a whole lot of options...except The Cage. Fax was probably wondering where the hell he had got to and, now that everything had quietened down, Connor's mind turned to claiming his share of the winnings for tonight's fight. God knows he had earned it this time. If his time playing for Angel's team had taught him anything, it was that someone always enforced a cautious approach. He probably had at least a couple of hours before the hot-headed Gunn suggested they return to the club and ask a few questions or tear off a few limbs.

**********

"I say we take some time to regroup. We were grossly outnumbered tonight," Cordelia noted, firmly.

"Yes, and the quicker we get back to the club and take them out, the less time they have to outnumber us any worse. They could be pooling demon resources as we speak." Angel looked grim, his mind still with Connor and the hurtful things he had said. The whole situation was compounded by the knowledge that his own son could be dying on the streets somewhere when their last words together were spoken in anger.

Wesley had barely spoken a word since Connor had run off, but now his voice of reason and surprising humanity piped up. "Don't you think Connor is the highest priority here? We still haven't found an antidote for the poison."

Fred asked, "But he's immune."

Wesley sighed, "He appears to be... but we can't be sure until we see him. It might just need more of a gestation period in his body. His immune system will be fighting it but a demon of that species would have enough venom in one touch to bring down a foe ten times his own size. The outcome would be the same but the symptoms would take longer to come into effect."

Gunn, ever ready to contradict his rival-in-love, pointed out, "But you said the demon was some kind of hybrid. What's to say the poison isn't a hybrid as well? We could spend hours cooking up stinky herbs and frogs' legs only to discover it wouldn't make the damned bit of difference."

Angel wanted to be out in the field. He couldn't stand all this waiting around and inaction. The mutual volley of insults thrown between him and Connor simply tumbled through his head, repeating itself over and over again in agonising detail. The course of action was clear to him. "We need to get back to the crime scene, get some of the poison or identify the corpse properly. Gunn, you ready?"

Gunn was already reaching for his weapons when Cordelia stood up. "Oh yeah, because they're just gonna fling the doors open when they see their two favourite trouble makers strolling up armed to the hilt."

Gunn opened his arms in a gesture of defeat. "So what are you suggesting we do?"

"Yeah, Cordy, we don't have any other options." Angel did not want to back down. He wanted to get out of that door and quit all this talking in circles.

Cordelia stared them both down. "I know you guys are itching for a fight, but it would be much better if Fred or I went there. We could turn on the charm while still actually achieving the goal. Meanwhile, Wesley could be getting the ingredients needed for the cure he's already found."

Wesley nodded, "Chances are, even if this poison has been mutated, the essential ingredients will be the same."

Cordelia felt a swell of pride that she was finally making herself useful again. "Right. You see? That's what I call a plan."

Angel gritted his teeth in annoyance. "And where exactly do I fit into your plan, Cordy?"

Oblivious to the obvious chill in her employer's voice, she sighed. "Well, I know you don't think this is a great idea, I suggest you look for Connor. After all, this whole mission is no use without the patient."

"Didn't I already give a perfectly legitimate reason for not going after him?"

Cordelia stood her ground. "What? That feeble excuse about only chasing him further? Angel, admit it - he cut you to the bone and I think the effect was mutual. You might be angry, upset, hurt..."

"I can think of a few other words to describe..." Angel murmured.

"Put it away, Angel! Look at the bigger picture! Your son is out there alone, possibly in great pain, and you aren't even interested in tracking him down? I don't believe that. Besides, you're the only one of us who could cover the same kind of ground as Connor. Beat him into submission if you have to, but get him back here. If Gunn takes all the regular haunts, then the pair of you should have the city more or less covered." Cordelia clapped her hands together in contentment. "So, what are you all waiting for? Get your butts moving!"

Like soldiers responding to their drill sergeant, the group leapt into action, grabbing coats, weapons, car keys, books and heading out of the door.

**********

Meanwhile, across town, Connor had stumbled into The Cage, sweating dripping from his brow. He could barely believe any of this was happening to him. He had never felt so sick in all his life, in fact he had never even run a headache before. Another spasm squeezed his stomach tight forcing him to double over, clinging to the wall beside the back door. His reason for pushing on, desperate for food, had completely left him now. It took all his energy just to stand up straight and he couldn't let Fax see him so sick. He might not let him fight again. Then again, if he was dead, there wouldn't be much chance of making any more money in the ring anyway.

Pushing off from the wall, Connor took a steadying breath and stepped through the door of the club. The acrid smell of stale cigarette smoke and spilt drinks permeated everything, only serving to make the boy feel even more nauseous. He focused through bleary eyes on Fax's office door which was standing ajar a few feet away. "Fax?"

The rough man was sitting behind his desk reading the sports section of a national newspaper and looked up in surprise at the thin voice so nearby. "Kid! Where did you skip off to? I was starting to think you did a runner on me...then I remembered you still didn't have the green stuff! Here." He opened his drawer and passed across a wad of high denomination dollar bills. Connor accepted them with a trembling hand, managing a small smile of appreciation. Fax frowned, "Hey, kid, are you okay? You're looking a bit peaky there."

Connor nodded, regretting the sharp pain the sudden movement had created in his head. "I'm fine."

Fax nodded, knowing better than to ask more questions. This was one business where everyone was as shady as their neighbour. Too much information only led to painful torture or suspicious clients. Changing tact, he asked, "Listen, kid, I've got a proposition for you."

Connor leaned heavily on the edge of the desk. "A proposition?"

"You're happy here, right? Working for me?"

Connor started to nod then thought better of it. "Why?"

Fax grinned. "You're a canny one, kid! You think this is the big shot? Well, it's not. I'm just a feeder club. You ever heard of the Necrodome?"

"The what?" Connor managed, blood surging through his head and thundering through his airs until he could barely hear.

Fax carried on, regardless of the rapidly paling face of his companion. "The Necrodome. It's the biggest fighting club you've ever seen. I mean, clients of the highest order pay out literally millions of dollars and dimensional currency a night on the fights there! Can you imagine how much money you'd make in a place like that? The only difference is that you have to sign a contract."

Connor breathed a sigh of relief as the world stopped spinning once more and he could feel his heartbeat gradually evening out once more. "Contract? Contract to fight? What's the catch?"

Fax laughed, heartily. "You a lawyer in your last life?! Kid, I swear the rules are no different to what we've got here. Simple stuff, standard protocol - basic rules of the game, you know."

"I thought there weren't any rules."

"Hah! Exactly. It's just for the punters sake really, stuff about not throwing the fights, so there can't be any underhand dealings. It's got to be fair play. I mean, imagine losing millions because a fighter was playing for the dark side. Hey, I've got one here for you, if you'd just sign it."

"How long is the contract for?" Connor asked.

"Oh, it has to be renewed every year, but of course, if you don't like what you see, you can get out sooner. It's just got to be negotiated." Fax was practically drooling at the prospect of getting Angel's son on his side. It was no secret how much the vampire hated his son being involved in this, but once the kid signed a contract, nothing stood between Fax and pure, unadulterated revenge.

Connor began to read the small print on the paper in front of him, but he could feel a second onslaught of nausea returning and he just stared blankly at the words, letting his own guidance be his judge. Angel had made it pretty clear how he felt and Connor wanted nothing more than to spite him in every way possible. He had never asked his father to watch his back or give him support. He had simply wanted the vampire out of his life once and for all. This was his 'get out of jail free' card. Taking the pen proffered to him, he shakily signed his name at the foot of the page, just as a severe pain plundered his abdomen. Letting out a cry of pain, Connor fell to his hands and knees, breathing heavily, his eyes closed.

Fax was by his side in an instant. "Kid, you okay? What's the matter?"

Connor's breath came in short, ragged gasps. "The demon...tongue..."

"Jesus! Tonight at the fight? Why didn't you say something? This contract won't be worth shit if you're dead."

Connor desperately wanted to away from Los Angeles, to have this chance. He would get the antidote, no matter what hardship it took. "I know where to get it...just take me there. Please..." His eyes were begging and Fax really wanted to give Angel what he deserved in its glorious entirety. He needed the kid alive.

"Sure thing, kiddo." Supporting the teenager, he helped him out to the van and back towards Wesley's apartment. Neither of them saw a car draw up a few parking spaces away from them and Cordelia get out, heading for the main door of the club.

***********

END OF CHAPTER 8