Title: Hand of Glory Author: Penemuel Posted: 9/5/01 Archive: Sure, just let me know where if other than list archive Part: 8/? (Work in Progress) [Sorry about the confusing numbering -- this is part 8 of the posted parts, but the part number below means it's part 7 of what's been posted after the "prologue"] Pairing: Angel/Lindsey Rating: R [this segment] Warnings: language, references to same-sex relationships Notes: I try to be consistent -- I might slip up, though. *words* are emphasised, _words_ are thoughts. The lyrics to "Vulture Culture" are used without permission. Alan Parsons Project is an incredible group and probably the only one where I'll buy an album without ever having heard a note of what's on it... Summary: Angel/Buffy crossover alternate universe. The first part was written in February, but I figure I'd better start posting *before* they aired Dead End, before someone says I stole ideas... Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I'm just playing with them for a while and will give them back when done. They might be a little sticky, though. Hand of Glory by Penemuel Part 7 Lindsey, Cordelia and Wesley joined Angel and his group outside Caritas; they all tromped down the stairs and entered the bar together, Angel and Giles in the lead. Angel sensed it as they walked in, heads turning, attention suddenly riveted to them. "Angel-cakes! I'm so glad you came!" Lorne enthused, heading straight for the vampire until he saw Giles standing next to him and Ethan and Spike trying to look around the two of them. "Oh, you brought guests, too -- how wonderful!" And then his red eyes fixed on Ethan and he blinked in surprise. "Ethan?" "Lorne," Ethan said with a smirk. "It's good to see you..." "Glad to see you're finally taking my advice..." Lorne said with a wink, looking from Ethan to Giles and Spike for a moment. Then as Spike blinked and shot a curious look first at Lorne and then back at Ethan, a voice came from behind the first four as Lindsey said, "Not just them, Lorne..." "Cowboy, is that *you*?" Lorne asked, his eyes going even rounder. Lindsey stepped forward, and smiled. "Yeah, it's me..." Suddenly it was everyone else's turn to be surprised as the green-skinned demon wrapped Lindsey in a bear-hug, picking him up off the floor and giving him a big smooch on the lips. When he put Lindsey back down, the lawyer was blushing furiously, but smiling broadly. Then Lorne leaned in and asked, "They're not abusing you, are they?" "Not unless I ask 'em to..." Lindsey murmured, knowing Angel's and Spike's vampiric hearing would pick it up despite the hideous wailing coming from the stage. From the words of the song, it was supposed to be 'Wicked Game', but the singer sounded more like a scalded alley cat than Chris Isaak. "You silver-tongued devil, you," Lorne said, winking at Lindsey and then looking over at Angel. "You two are going to *have* to tell me everything about it..." "Actually, that's sort of why we're here," Wesley spoke up when Angel failed to. One look at his vampiric employer's face told him he would have to be the brains of the operation for the meantime. He couldn't help wondering exactly what Lindsey had told the Host about Angel, and how much the demon already knew about the situation. "Yeah," Cordelia added, trying not to stick her fingers in her ears. "Lindsey needs help -- but not as much help as my eardrums do..." "He's nearly done, Sweetie," Lorne said, looking over at the singer and wincing himself. "And it won't take long to tell him what he needs to know. After that, I'm *all ears*!" "Good thing you aren't now, or you'd keel over," Spike muttered uncomfortably. "D'you know what that sounds like to vampire ears?" "Are you sure it's not just causing feedback in the chip and melting what little there is of your brain?" Ethan asked, leaning close enough to mutter in his ear. "Bugger off..." "Boys, behave yourselves, or I won't let anyone spank you," Lorne said as he walked past, winking at Giles. He then stopped at Angel's side and added, "I'll be back soon. It's good to see you've gotten at least one foot back on your path." Before Angel could do more than look at him, he was off to the bar for a moment's breather before the singer made its way to him. After another moment of confusion, Angel looked back at the others and asked, "So, should we get a table?" "That's usually the best way to sit and drink," Spike muttered. "Right..." Angel sighed, leading them over to one of the bigger round tables. Once they were all seated, he looked at Lindsey and asked, "What did you *tell* him?" "I didn't have to *tell* him much, Angel. It's hard to hide things from him, y'know?" Lindsey smiled slightly, then nodded as the bartender looked his way. He continued, "*He's* the one who told *me* a few things, including some I just didn't want to listen to for a while..." "He's good at that," Angel responded. He turned to watch, as unobtrusively as he could, as Lorne brought the singer over to the bar and sat with him, talking quickly and quietly as he answered his questions. After a short while, the singer smiled and shook his hand, and practically skipped out of the bar. Lorne smiled and shook his head, spoke to the bartender and took the drink he had just finished making, then headed over to their table. "Here you go, Cowboy," he said softly as he placed the drink down in front of Lindsey. "So, what's everyone else having?" As they listed their drinks, Lorne nodded and glanced towards the bartender, making sure he got all of the orders correct. When everyone had ordered except for Angel, he said, "And an O-pos, 98.6 Fahrenheit, right?" "Uh... Actually, I'll take a Guinness," Angel said, suddenly convinced he was blushing despite his vampiric nature. Lorne tsked at him and looked over at Lindsey, then said, "I thought it was the *lighting* in here making you look so pale, Sweetness..." Lindsey blushed again and Lorne chuckled softly, then said, "I'll get Carlos started on your drinks, then I'll be back." While Lorne was away from the table, Wesley looked around the bar and said, "Well, that's good -- at least none of your coworkers are here." "Ex-coworkers," Lindsey corrected quietly, also making a quick scan of the patrons. "And luckily not even any demons I know..." "Well, that's a relief," Cordelia said, grimacing. "I mean, just how embarrassing would *that* be..." "Cordy," Angel warned, before she could continue. Then he looked over at Spike, who was whispering something into Giles' ear. "Spike, we'll have to keep an eye out for unfriendlies -- nothing's going to happen while we're in here, but they may try to jump us once we leave." "Yeah, yeah, I know," Spike answered irritatedly. "I'll keep an eye out, but I don't need to do it right now, since no one new's come in." Ethan smirked and said, "That's okay, Spike, you can play lookout, and I'll take care of Rupert..." "Boys, boys, what did I tell you?" Lorne chided as he returned with a tray full of drinks. Once he handed them out, he picked up his own Seabreeze and fixed Lindsey with a crimson stare. "Okay, Cowboy, what's -- if you'll pardon the expression -- up? You can skip the part about your latest client -- I warned you you were in for a prickly time..." "You coulda been a *bit* less figurative," Lindsey said quietly, feeling most of them staring at him again. "I ran out before a meeting the next day -- just couldn't take it any more. I called Angel for help." "And our big bite of hero sandwich came to save the day," Lorne said with his eyes twinkling. "I always knew he had it in him!" Lindsey chuckled, knowing all too well how much Lorne wanted to eat the afore-mentioned 'hero sandwich' -- Angel could be *so* dense sometimes. "Yeah," Lindsey nodded, and then his mood changed. Unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he said, "And then we discovered something about this wonderful hand they gave me." He held up the prosthetic, eyeing it darkly. "It's got some kind of curse, or it's possessed, or *something* bad. It drains people, and it's sucking up energy for something..." "Well, that's not good..." "Last night, Ethan and Giles tried to read it, and it knocked Giles right out -- if he'd been in contact with it longer it could have killed him..." "Sweetie, I might not be able to read what kind of curse it is," Lorne warned, his tone low and quiet, and carrying quite a bit of concern. "We're hoping you might be able to see something that will point us in the right direction," Giles said quietly. "There are just too many spells and curses having to do with hands..." "Yeah," Lindsey said uncomfortably. "I know you may not be able to see it, but I gotta try..." "Well, we're certainly not gonna kick you off the stage, Cowboy -- we've missed you!" Lorne said, gently touching Lindsey's cheek. "You want a disk, or some live accompaniment?" "Think I'll go with a disk," Lindsey said, downing the rest of his drink and standing up. The trio of female demons on stage were just wrapping up a rather flat Donna Summer medley, and Lorne said, "I was going to go on next, but you go right ahead. I'll get my Seabreeze topped off, and I'm all yours." "You wish," Lindsey said with a sly smile. He walked over to the stage and spent a moment or two picking out a disk. Angel was still trying to decipher exactly what the end of the conversation meant and realizing he felt slightly jealous at Lorne's obvious familiarity with his lover. _This is ridiculous -- it's not like you've been with him for years...There are going to be people he's known well and actually *likes* as well as enemies!_ he chided himself. Then he noticed a sudden change in the audience as Lindsey picked up the microphone and pushed play. The patrons were all looking right at Lindsey, all conversations ceased. He couldn't remember ever having received this much attention from *anyone* at Caritas... A bass guitar began plucking out a beat, with cymbals keeping time underneath. For a moment, no one recognized the song, until a saxophone wail joined the bass guitar. Then Giles and Spike looked at each other, and Spike murmured, "Boy's got a good sense of humour..." Angel and the others looked over at them, wondering if they recognized the song, when Lindsey began to sing: "Somehow you made it in the big wide world And you're absolutely home and dry You got away from a one horse town And the only way out was to fly You heard a lot about an easy street And it seems like the place to be You heard some talk about a slippery slope But you think 'it can't happen to me' Vulture culture Use it or you lose it Vulture culture Choose it or refuse it Hollywood is calling won't you join the dance Moving onto Wall Street why not take a chance It's a vulture culture Never lend a loser a hand Just a vulture culture Living off the fat of the land..." Angel stared, amazed by Lindsey's talent -- the slight twang of his accent made the song sound even more true: the story of a young man from a small town who was sucked into something much bigger than he ever expected; the coldness Lindsey had been forced to learn in order to survive, doing the job he did... He realized the words of the song told the story of Lindsey's life in painful clarity -- even he could feel the bitterness pouring off his lover from the stage. What on earth was Lorne picking up from this? "Nowhere to turn around and catch your breath It's all relatively trouble free No need to bother with the bottom line Or a money back guarantee You sign a deal that's been etched in stone It's absolutely cut and dry That's when they got you in the danger zone And the only way out is to die Vulture culture Use it or you lose it Vulture culture Choose it or refuse it Hollywood is waiting striking up the band Everyone on Wall Street shakes you by the hand Such a vulture culture Never lend a loser a hand Just a vulture culture Living off the fat of the land," Lindsey sang, pouring his heart and soul and all of his anger into the words. He didn't need to read the words scrolling on the screen -- he knew this song all too well. He had worked long and hard to be the best that he could be; he was a damned good lawyer, and he'd earned the right to have the good money, the good life. His former employers at Wolfram & Hart had taken that chance from him, and he would be damned if he let them get away with it without a fight. He had been upset before, but he was *angry* now... "Use it or you lose it Choose it or refuse it Hollywood's a no go not a second chance Nobody on Wall Street gives a second glance It's a vulture culture Moving to the beat of the band It's a vulture culture Never lend a loser a hand It's just a vulture culture Living off the fat of the land." As Lindsey finished, the audience burst into enthusiastic applause. Lindsey bowed and stepped down from the stage, heading back to their table although he had to stop at a couple of tables on the way to accept more personal accolades. Angel looked at the others at their table, seeing the awe in Cordelia's face and the enjoyment in Giles' and Spike's faces -- and the sappy grin on Lorne's green face... "That was -- uh-- pretty good," Angel murmured, smiling up at Lindsey as he returned and took his seat. "Alan Parsons Project," Giles said, obviously impressed, "I'm a bit surprised you knew the song, but it's very fitting..." "Yeah, ain't it, though," Lindsey said with a humourless grin. "So, Lorne, did you get anything?" "Oh, Babycakes, I got a *lot* off that, but mainly about how you feel about your august former employers. Don't worry, you'll get the money back -- some sweet little redhead Amazon'll work her magic and solve *that* problem with ease. It's the rest of it that might get a little ugly... Oh -- and you should have bought that black shirt..." "See, I *told* you!" Cordelia jumped in, then put a hand over her mouth and whispered, "Sorry..." "That's okay, Princess," Lorne said gently. Then he turned serious and took Lindsey's left hand. "Honey, I couldn't get anything about what kind of curse or spell it is, but I got a flash of something pretty bad. I could see the whole lot of you lying around the lobby of the Hyperion, either asleep or unconscious, and something big, black, and bad coalescing out of smoke and shadows over by the staircase. Not that bit of unpleasantness that used to live there, but something different. Unholy -- powerful..." "You say we were all asleep?" Giles asked, frowning at a vague memory. "Sure looked that way -- out cold. Either drugged, or spelled..." Giles looked at Ethan, who frowned and said, "I hadn't even thought of that -- it's a prosthetic, not a--" "What?" Lindsey demanded, looking first at Ethan, then back at his hand. A moment later, his eyes widened as he remembered something he had read in one of the many files at Wolfram & Heart. "Oh, gross. No *way* -- there is *no way* that this is something like that -- it's fake -- it's *plastic*!" "That doesn't mean they haven't charmed it somehow to act like one," Ethan suggested. "Uh...Can someone enlighten those of us who *don't* speak 'dusty old book'?" Cordelia requested peevishly. "A spell cast using the severed hand of a hanged criminal -- it was supposed to put everyone in a house to sleep so that thieves could rob the house uninterrupted," Giles explained quickly, oversimplifying in an attempt to keep from having to put up with too many disgusted comments from Cordelia. "It was called the 'Hand of Glory' and was a very powerful necromantic spell." "This *thing* is *not* a Hand of Glory," Lindsey protested, trying to keep the look of disgust from his face. "No, it isn't," Ethan agreed. "For one thing, you're right, it really is plastic. For another, the Hand of Glory spell was English, and nowhere near as old as whatever Giles got part of last night." "True," Giles said, eyeing the hand with even more suspicion now. "Oh? Do tell," Lorne requested, following his gaze and then looking sympathetically at Lindsey. "I got an impression of desert -- dry, hot, windy... and very old," Giles explained uncomfortably. It was something I *almost* recognized, but it evaded me -- and when I tried to look deeper it sucked me in." "That sounds like it matches the thing I saw rising out of the darkness," Lorne said with a grimace. "Sweetcheeks, much as I hate to say this, maybe you ought to melt that thing down into an ashtray while you still can..." Lindsey shook his head and said, "No. Whatever it is has been set in motion now -- I'm gonna see it through, and I'm gonna *stop* them." "Honey, if you see it through and things go the wrong way, you won't be *able* to stop them..." Lorne warned uncomfortably. He saw the determination in Lindsey's eyes, then looked up to meet Angel's gaze. "You keep him safe, or I'll never forgive you..." he threatened, his tone suddenly deadly serious. "What aren't you telling us?" Angel asked, knowing there had to be more to it than Lorne had said so far -- he had to know more, or he wouldn't be so concerned for Lindsey's safety. "I wasn't kidding around when I said I wanted to talk to the two of you privately -- later..." He stood up and said, "I'll be back later -- I've got to work now, Kiddies." Lorne headed off to the stage, where he took up the microphone and schmoozed the audience for a while before starting into Madonna's "Vogue". They spent an enjoyable evening in the bar, Giles eventually taking the stage and singing 'Major Tom' to a rapt audience. Later, after a couple more drinks a slightly unsteady Lindsey headed back to the stage and began singing another Alan Parsons Project song, 'Limelight'. Again, everyone had to admit it was painfully appropriate considering Lindsey's current situation. As Lorne started clearing the other patrons out, they ordered a large pot of coffee, well aware that most of them were not in any shape to drive at the moment. When Lorne brought the tray of mugs, Lindsey tilted his head back into him and asked, "Need any help cleaning up?" "No, Sweetcheeks, that's what I hire people for. You and Angel ready?" he asked, smiling down at Lindsey and gently stroking his cheek. "Where are we going?" Angel asked, frowning at the liberties Lorne was taking with Lindsey -- exactly how well *did* they know each other, anyway? "Upstairs," Lindsey said, smiling broadly at Angel, then standing up and stumbling slightly. "Oh boy..." "Now you see why you're not going to be helping clean up," Lorne chuckled, catching him before he could fall and steadying him until Angel also stood. "Angel, be a darling and help him up the stairs -- I don't want him falling and hurting something else." "That's a good idea," Angel said, sweeping Lindsey up into his arms before he could protest. "Lead the way." "Put me down, Angel!" Lindsey protested, trying not to laugh. "You like doin' this, don't you." "Like you don't," Angel growled in his ear as they followed Lorne. "Okay, here we are, Kiddies," Lorne announced, leading them into a well-furnished living room where the style and colour scheme practically screamed that it was his. Angel looked around in amazement before finally gently setting Lindsey down on the leopard-spotted couch. "It's... you," Angel said, unable to think of anything else to say. "Thank you," Lorne answered with a large grin. Then he sobered and motioned to Angel. "Sit down, Angelito, we need to talk about you two." He pulled up a metallic red vinyl and chrome chair and seated himself in front of them, smiling as Angel settled on the couch and let Lindsey lean against him. "It's about time you two got together -- do you realize that you've been driving me *crazy* over the past year?" "What do you mean?" Angel asked, reaching up to run his fingers through Lindsey's soft hair. He knew he shouldn't be so possessive, but he couldn't help it... Lorne sighed and frowned slightly at Angel, then said, "Every time I told you not to go after them, it wasn't just because the whole revenge thing isn't your path... Lindsey, sweetie, how much *have* you told him, anyway?" "I -- uh..." Lindsey hedged. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Go ahead," nodding to Lorne. Lorne turned to fix Angel with his crimson stare, then said, "After Lindsey's promotion, he came to me desperate for advice. He had *thought* he found a way out of the whole mess, but you'd been so cruel to him that he felt he had nowhere left to turn. He spent the night here, crying in my arms because he felt trapped. Because the one person I'd told him *could* help him wouldn't..." "You told--?" Angel looked up, shocked. There was genuine anger in Lorne's tone, and he felt a sudden need to defend himself. "You know, we've already been through this ourselves, and I *did* offer to help -- he made the wrong choice at that time." "Oh Angel, Angel, *Angel* -- he didn't tell me what you did or said, I *saw* it. You mocked him -- he basically reached his hand out and you slapped it away. It was as hard for him to come crawling back to you now as it is for that bleached-blond beauty downstairs to admit he's in love with Giles..." Angel choked on that one and stared at him in amazement. "Spike, in *love*? He's got an inhibitor chip in his head, not a *soul* -- he's a *demon*!" "And your point is...?" Lorne asked, offended. "Uh... sorry. But it's not the same thing -- he's a vampire..." "And as a human he was a rather sweet, romantic sort," Lorne said, still miffed about the generalization Angel had made. "You know probably better than I do that 'Spike' is as much a mask as 'Mr. Giles the mild-mannered librarian' is... *But*, we're not talking about them, Angel-cakes. We're talking about the two of you, aren't we..." "Yes. And as I said, we already talked about this -- I was wrong to treat Lindsey the way I did -- I admit it," Angel said quietly. "Very good. And you'll keep him safe now, right?" "I can take care of myself," Lindsey protested. "Why are you askin' him that -- what the hell is gonna happen that you couldn't say in front of the rest of 'em?" "That's the problem, Sweetness, I'm not entirely sure. We all know Angel's going to play a big part in the upcoming Apocalypse, whichever one that really is -- but I'm also getting the impression that you've got a major part in it, too. Or, to put it more precisely, *you* figure prominently into *Wolfram & Hart's* plans for the upcoming Apocalypse..." To be continued...