Feedback: It makes me happy. Don't you want to make me happy?
Summary:AU. Angel O'Brien is trying his best to live a normal, safe life in L.A. But when his brother Angelus, CEO of Wolfram and Hart, forces him to return to the past he'd thought he'd escaped, Angel will have to deal with both his own inner demons and those of his friends if he wants to survive.
Author's Note: Everybody is human, and while most of the characters will stay in character, they will be different nonetheless. The timeline is obviously completely different from on BTVS and AtS. Most of this will be from Angel's point of view, but not all of it. Italics indicate thought.
A/N 2: I have no idea what the time change would be from L.A. to Michigan, so bear with me if you think it seems wonky.
June 14
12: 13 AM
Capital City Airport, Lansing, Michigan
A small pile of miniature Jack Daniels bottle and an indent in his seat were all Angel left behind as he exited one of the Wolfram and Hart jets. As he descended the ramp leading from the door of the plane to the ground, the detective tried his best not to throw up. The entire way over, Angel had avoided looking out the window of the plane. He hated flying. It wasn't right, being up that high. It also didn't help that on one of the times in the past when Angelus had dragged himfrom one location to another at will, Angel had asked what was keeping their plane up. His brother's response? "Updraft and a prayer." Not at all comforting.
Sitting on the bottom of the stairs for a moment, trying to get his nausea in order, Angel watched as the baggage handlers carried his luggage into the terminal. He wondered why they had to, exactly. There were only his three suitcases, about five other bags that contained things Angelus had thought would be important, and his duffel bag filled with, er, useful things, like machetes and a few handguns. Angel knew by now that no Wolfram and Hart employee would ever get any police trouble for carrying weapons, even onto planes. The firm was good like that. Or evil, depending on the perspective.
Finally feeling as if he wasn't going to vomit Jack Daniels and Saltine crackers all over the tarmac, Angel got up, swung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked up to the doors of the terminal. Private jets, even the Wolfram and Hart private jet, didn't get those cool walkway thingies. Too bad, because Angel really would have preferred it to walking through the business of the tarmac. The shouts of men and the distant roar of the planes, combined with a myriad of other noises that the brunette couldn't identify, made his ears ache and very possibly bleed. That, plus the fact the fact that he was the only person on the entire stretch of black tarmac who wasn't in an airport uniform, made him feel an overwhelming sort of uncomfortable. Damn you, Angelus. Damn you to the fiery depths of Hell, where you will suffer an eternity of flames and sharp things poking you. It had been Angel's mantra over the past few hours,even afterthe older twin had explained the mission.
-"Good, I thought you were going to chicken out for a while there." Angelus smiled as his brother scowled at him. When Angel felt like it, his scowl could peel paint. But Angelus had always been immune to it, and that was sadly the case now.
"You could have sent someone down to help me carry my stuff, you asshole," Angel snapped. He was sure he'd been a very amusing sight as he tried to carry all three of his suitcases and his backpack across the lobby of Wolfram and Hart without dropping anything.
"If you wouldn't pack so much crap every time you traveled, you wouldn't need help," Angelus said dismissively. His arms were crossed across his chest and he was leaning against the desk, as casual as ever.
"Says the guy who once packed all of the clothing he owned to go on vacation," retorted Angel, sitting on the arm of a chair across from his brother.
Angelus rolled his eyes to indicate that Angel was irreversibly stupid. Angel flipped himthe bird. It was common ground for the two brothers.
"So, do you have anything to tell me or are you just going to move the air around all night?" Angel asked, crossing his arms in a mirror image of his brother, until he caught himself. Mimicking his brother was something to be avoided at all costs. It was for that purpose that he'd worn blue jeans and a button-down red shirt. He had known Angelus would probably be wearing a dark suit, because both the twins had a fondness for the dark colors. Sometimes it's worth it to go against your nature, just to surprise your brother.
Angelus smirked at him. "Walk with me, kiddo." The CEO walked through the doors of his office into the hallways. Angel was irritated, but followed his brother anyway. He soon recognized that they were heading towards the roof.
"Why are we going to the roof?"
"Because."
'Oh, look at me, I'm Angelus. I'm cryptic and annoying and think I'm God', Angel mocked in his mind. "Why can't we stay in your office?" the younger twin asked out loud, wanting to be walking side-by-side with his brother. Walking behind Angelus made him feel like a minion or something.
"Because the roof will help me illustrate my point," the CEO answered, sounding annoyed at Angel's question.
"Why can't you use a picture to illustrate your point?"
Angelus spun suddenly, grabbed Angel by the lapels of his shirt, and dragged their faces very close together. He smelled like mint and cinnamon and cologne, and the younger twin wondered briefly if he smelled the same way. Angel didn't struggle, didn't try to get away at, just hung there in his brother's grasp even as his brain screamed at him to move.
"The walls have ears, smart one," Angelus hissed, cold brown eyes boring into Angel with crushing force. Angel nodded gently, understanding. Angelus was worried about listening devices. Whatever the older twin was about to say, he didn't want it to get back to the Senior Partners. For the first time, the detective became curious about what his assignment was.
"And lose the backpack," Angelus advised, releasing Angel and smoothing out his shirt absent-mindedly. "It makes you look stupid."
"No," Angel responded simply, clutching his backpack a little closer to him. This was the backpack with all the important things. The Connor Book. Buffy's class ring. Darla's wedding ring. Pictures of Doyle and Cordy. His signed Barry Manilow CD . These were things he wasn't willing to leave alone, even for a second. Plus, because Angel was a masochist and felt compelled to be a fool, there was a picture of himself and Angelus when they were ten tossed in there. It had been their birthday. Angelus had his arm slung around Angel's shoulders and they'd both been grinning from ear to ear. It had been a good day. Angelus had been nice, sharing his presents and making jokes with Angel, instead of about him. Dad had been smiling and Mom had been alive.
Present day Angelus shook his head and the twins continued on to the stairs in silence. When they did get to the roof, Angel took a deep breath. Up on top of the building, the air seemed clearer.
"You realize you just breathed a big lungful of smog?" Angelus asked. Angel took another deep breath to show he didn't care. The CEO ignored this and walked to the edge of the roof, staring at the buildings beneath and above them.
"Look at this," Angelus gestured at the city sprawled out marvelously beneath them. Angel looked at his brother curiously. He'd had no idea that the older twin noticed how lovely L.A. was at night. They had a goodview of one of the freeways, which looked like a long neon ribbon of yellow and red light. "L.A. The City of Angels. A powerful city. A beautiful city, at night anyway." Angelus clenched his hands into fists. "My city."
"If you're here to tell me 'Someday all this will be yours, my son', I'm gonna push you," Angel warned.
Angelus whirled on him, looking dangerously angry. That scared Angel. Angelus was the master of controlling his emotions, at never letting anyone in on how he was feeling. If Angelus looked angry, he had to be truly pissed off.
"Don't make jokes, you little bastard. This is not the time for jokes." Angelus was backing him slowly towards the edge and Angel wondered if he was about to die.
"Okay, right." The detective stopped moving and held up his hands in a placating gesture. "No more jokes. What's going on?"
Angelus stopped trying to walk his brother off the building and took a deep breath, hands unclenching. "I'm sorry," the CEO muttered, which nearly caused Angel to have heart failure. Angelus was apologizing for something? This was serious.
"What's going on?" Angel repeated.
Angelus had his back to his brother, staring out at the city. When Angel came and stood beside him, he noticed that his brother looked strangely sad. "You're going to Michigan, Angel," Angelus stated emotionlessly.
"What's in Michigan?"
"A town called Redgrass." Angelus grimaced a little around the name.
"Never heard of it."
The CEO took a deep breath, and Angel knew that it was now officially storytime. "You aren't supposed to have. It's one of those tiny little towns that sprung up all along the banks of the Great Lakes. Lake Michigan, to be precise. Seven years ago, a man named Marcus Hamilton moved in and started buying the entire town, piece by piece."
Angel blinked. What did this have to do with anything? "What does this have to do with anything?"
"Angel, if you would just stop asking questions every time your small yet perfectly formed brain becomes confused, you would probably find out the answers much quicker." When Angel glared but remained silent, Angelus continued. "Anyway,Hamilton bought up all the land eventually, forcing a whole bunch of people to move, most of them not exactly willingly."
"How'd he make them move? BBTC?" Angel asked, using their code for 'Blackmail, Bribery, Threats, and Coercion'.
"Yep. Once he had most of the town gone, he started populating it with his own people. Pretty soon, he had a town full of drug runners, arms dealers, and pimps. Thatwas when he started shipping things in through the Great Lakes network."
"What about customs?" Angel asked, sitting down on the ledge.
Angelus looked at the movement for a second, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. After taking a deep drag, he explained, "They're shipping under the name of a legitimate company, which helps keep customs of their backs. Whoever is left behind and still suspicious either gets paid off or found at the bottom of one of the lakes.
"Hamilton has an empire up there. No one else can bring as much as he does and get it circulating as quickly as his people do. Everyday, he gets more guns, or drugs, or people via the St. Lawrence Seaway."
"People?" Angel asked, knowing he probably meant prostitutes but unwilling to think about innocent people being crammed in the bowels of a ship. He'd had to travel unknown in a ship once or twice, and always remembered it as a miserable experience as he crouched in the cold, dark space. It was very cold in the Great Lakes region, and metal was not a great source of warmth in the freezing waters.
"Hookers, mostly, from the Bahamas or Europe. Sometimes Russia. Most of them are there because they're forced to be, and some of them get sold as sex slaves." Angelus took another drag on the cigarette, never taking his eyes off the city below him. "I told you this guy was a scumbag."
"You're no saint yourself, Angelus."
His brother shot him a cold look. "I don't sell people into slavery, Angel."
"Fair enough. But what does that have to do with you or me?"
Angelus looked down, letting the cigarette burn down until it nearly scorched his fingers. He flipped the butt over the roof and pulled out another cigarette. Angel was becoming worried now. Angelus was one of those incredibly irritating people who could smoke all the time but never needed a cigarette. To see him start to chain-smoke was to see him start to panic.
"Hamilton is the guy you go to if you want drugs, guns, or whores for the entire Midwest and Northeast area of the United States. He makes money by the boatload and has an entire town dedicated to his business, with the exception of a few people." The CEO closed his eyes and sighed. "The Senior Partners are very impressed with him. Eve…Eve told me that if he kept on making profits the way he does, they might want to make him a part of the Wolfram and Hart team."
Angel was still confused, but knew his brother well enough to know that Angelus was about to get to the point. Wait, had Angelus just shuddered? That was crazy talk. Angelus didn't shake or shudder or jump with fright.
Another cigarette was lit and another drag was taken before the older twin spoke again. "Eve likes me, you see. Or at least, she likes me more than she likes Hamilton. And that's why she brought word that…that if he was made an employee of Wolfram and Hart, they would want to him to take over operations in a slightly warmer climate."
Angel nearly fell off the roof. He'd thought his heart had frozen before? That had been nothing. That had been a mild frost. It was different now. He felt dread and terror and panic grip him like claws, sink so deep within him that it felt as if they'd always been there. It was like he had ice in his veins and fire in his gut.
"If they hire Hamilton," he said out loud, just needing to hear the words aloud to be able to accept them as true, "they will give him your job. They'll fire you."
"What do you think, little brother? I've served them well and long, do you think they'll make me swim with the fishes, or will I end up in the dog food plant? I'd rather not have my eyes eaten out by little sharks, but at the same time, beingmunched by Paris Hilton's dog doesn't fill me with anticipation either." Angelus laughed, and it sounded like a sob. It was the first time Angel had ever heard that laugh.
The detective might not have had his brother's capacity for evil schemes, but he was no fool. He knew that the only reason he and Connor were still alive was because of Angelus. People didn't leave them employ of Wolfram and Hart except in body bags. If Angelus wasn't around to keep the law firm away from Angel's family, no one would be able to. Also, although he probably wouldn't admit it aloud, he didn't exactly want his brother to die. Stop being evil, maybe, but not die.
"I'm not an idiot. I know I'm going to Hell one day." Angelus turned to face his brother and his eyes were on fire with fear and anger and desperation. And maybe, just maybe, a hint of pleading. "But I'm not ready to go yet. You think I'm a sociopath? Well Marcus Hamilton was crafted by the Prince of Darkness himself, and if he kills me, you are next. You're a loose end, and Hamilton hates loose ends. It won't just be you, either. It'll be Connor and Cordelia and Doyle. It'll be Dad and Kathy and all your little friends in Sunnydale. Definitely Darla, if he finds her."
"I get it," Angel ground out through gritted teeth. "He's a thorough kind of guy. So what are you going to do about it?"
"Very simple." Angelus took one, final drag on his cigarette and tossed if over the side of the building. He was wearing his killer smirk. "The Senior Partners think he looks like a golden boy? We dirty him up. We leave his town in chaos and we bring his company to its knees. We make sure he's a threat to no one. I have a hand-picked team of people who will help you do just that." The smirk grew wider. "And the best part is? The Senior Partners don't know how it happened, because we cover our tracks."
Angel couldn't help but be impressed. "Not bad. But they already know you needed me for something. How do you explain that?"
"Simple. I needed you to do some surveillance on someone somewhere. There are records showing that you did your job and went home. As far as they know, you are officially disassociated with Wolfram and Hart once again."
The detective felt like his world had gone cockeyed. Angelus being desperate, on the verge of being fired? Working to bring down someone more evil than the people he was working for? It was too strange, and if Angel didn't regain his sense of balance, he wouldn't be able to work. "You're still just in it to save your own ass, when it comes right down to it," Angel stated. If he stopped seeing his brother as a person on whom he could focus his blame, then he might start to blame himself. For not having the strength to stand up sooner. For not being strong. And if he went down that path, Angel knew he would be crippling himself.
Fortunately, Angelus gave the right response, the required response. "Of course I am. Now lets get you on a plane."-
The airport was not all that busy. It was still bustling by some standards, but it was early in the morning and there were a lot of people sleeping in seats instead of walking around. Angel sat himself by the baggage carousel to wait for his things to come around, wondering again whythe luggagehad to be put through it. He glanced surreptitiously around the terminal. Angelus was supposed to have someone waiting for him.
-"How will I know he's from Wolfram and Hart?" Angel shouted over the sound of the plane engines.
Angelus was wearing his 'I have a secret that will really piss you off' smirk. "Oh you'll know."-
But there was no sign of anyone familiar. Angel was considering pulling out his CD player and listening to some Mandy to sooth his nerves when a horribly familiar voice spoke behind him. "Bloody hell, I thought I recognized that hair."
Angel whirled so fast that his back nearly went out. Standing there in a long leather coat and ripped black jeans, was William 'Spike' Harrington. The detective was actually unable to form words, but he was fairly certain his jaw was two inches off the floor.
"Wassa matter, Peaches? Cat got your tongue?"
TBC
(Post-Note: If there is actually a Redgrass, Michigan, then I offer my apologies. Unless of course your town really is run by a pimp/drug lord/arms dealer, in which case you should totally e-mail me about it.)