Title: Hand of Glory Author: Penemuel Posted: 4/20/01 Archive: Sure, just let me know where if other than list archive Part: 2/? (Work in Progress) Pairing: Angel/Lindsey Rating: NC-17 Warnings: none this time Notes: I try to be consistent -- I might slip up, though. *words* are emphasised, _words_ are thoughts. Summary: Angel/Buffy crossover alternate universe. The first part was written in February, but I figure I'd better start posting *before* they air the episode next week, 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 1 "Jesus, Lindsey, you look like shit," Lilah remarked archly as he stepped into the elevator and turned to stand next to her. "Fuck you," he whispered, unwilling to trust his abused vocal cords to speak out loud. He stared straight ahead as she looked him up and down. "I don't think you *could* right now," she said with a knowing smile. "Meeting with a client last night?" She noticed that he reached over to rub his arm where the prosthetic was attached, something she recognized as a nervous habit. "Sorry, Lindsey -- are you okay?" "I'm fine, just leave me alone," he rasped, looking over at her and glaring daggers. Then the elevator stopped and the door slid open. Lilah stepped out and stopped short, realizing that he hadn't moved. "You coming? We'll be late for the meeting..." He heaved a sigh and followed her out of the elevator, reluctantly joining her on the way to the meeting room. A few steps later, she stopped to let him catch up, realizing he was moving very gingerly. "Go on, I'll be there when I get there," he growled, realizing she was waiting and unwilling to accept any assistance from her. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, seeing sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "I'm *fine* -- why don't you go in before someone sees you being nice to me," he hissed, batting her hand away before she could touch his shoulder. "Fine. You be a macho jerk, and handle it yourself. I wouldn't want you to drag me down, anyway," she answered testily, stalking off to the meeting and leaving him in the corridor. Once she was gone, he leaned back against the wall and tried to catch his breath, fighting back waves of nausea. _Oh god, I'm going to die..._ he thought, feeling himself starting to slide down the wall and realizing that he was unable to stop himself. When he reached the floor he struggled to his hands and knees, and began to crawl back down the hall towards the elevator; knowing that there was no way he could go into that meeting and face Holland. He reached the elevator and clawed his way up the corner of the wall until he could reach the button, pressing it desperately and praying he could remain conscious until the elevator arrived. The elevator door slid open, and he heaved a sigh of relief as he realized it was empty. Carefully, he let go the wall and stepped into the elevator, falling back against the side wall as the door slid closed. He reached out and pressed the button for the parking level his space was on, then leaned back and struggled against the nausea again. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, then dialed a number he thought he had called for the last time during the whole Darla debacle. "Angel Investigations," a man answered. The voice was soft and accented -- he recognized it as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, the ex-Watcher. "Is Angel there? I need to talk to him..." he rasped, swallowing hard to try and soothe his raw throat. "May I tell him who's calling?" Wesley asked, concern beginning to tinge his voice. "I really need to talk to him -- I need his help..." "Is it an emergency? He doesn't usually work at--" "At this time of day, yeah, I know. Can you have him come to the underground parking at Wolfram and Hart? He knows the parking space -- please, just tell him... I need his help..." Lindsey hung up and tried to steel himself for the walk out to his car. Fortunately, the elevator did not stop on the trip to the garage, and once he staggered out into the dark underground garage he knew it would be unlikely anyone would be walking around. Now all he needed to do was hide out from Holland, Lilah, or anyone else who might come looking for him after they realized he wasn't going to make the meeting, and pray that Angel arrived soon... "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right here, Lindsey," the quiet voice growled right into his ear. He startled awake with a soft gasp and turned to find himself face to face with Angel, his face already half-twisted into his vampire features. Lindsey gulped uncomfortably and whispered, "I need your help, Angel -- I can't do this any more..." "You've got the stink of a Guaricana demon all over you," Angel observed, his nose wrinkling even more. "What the hell have you been doing?" "Can we discuss this somewhere a little safer?" Lindsey asked, anxiety sharpening his tone. Between the discomfort from his experience the night before and his body's attempt to react to Angel's closeness now, he felt his chest tighten and his breathing start to quicken. "This isn't exactly the safest place for either of us, you know..." "You want to get your car out, too?" Angel asked, sitting back slightly and studying the young lawyer. "Yeah, I'd like to -- I don't think I'm in any shape to crawl out of here through the sewers... There's a blanket in the back, it could hide you from the sunlight," Lindsey said, drawing in a deeper, shuddering breath. Angel nodded and squeezed between the two front seats, climbing into the back and pulling the blanket up to hide beneath. "You look bad, Lindsey -- can you drive?" Lindsey nodded silently, surprised to see genuine concern in the dark eyes. The vampire's features had softened again and were showing far more emotion than Lindsey was accustomed to seeing. "I have to -- it's too sunny out there for you to drive, and we don't dare wait here until dark. I blew off a meeting, and sooner or later, someone's going to come looking for me..." "Okay -- you know the way to the old Hyperion Hotel?" "Yeah. Thanks..." "When we get there, you're going to tell me what's going on, THEN we'll see whether or not I'm going to help you," Angel said, his expression turning hard again. Lindsey nodded, then started the car and pulled out of his space. "Fair enough." "Do they all have to be here?" Lindsey asked uncomfortably, seating himself gingerly on a couch in the hotel's lobby and looking up at Cordelia and Wesley as they seated themselves on either side of Angel facing him. "One would think you're trying to hide things from us -- not that you'd *ever* do that," Cordelia said, frowning and leaning back in her seat. "I'm not--" Lindsey stopped himself and swallowed hard, looking at the three distrustful faces waiting for him to speak. "I'm not trying to *hide* things, it's just... it's--" He could feel the colour rising in his cheeks and his throat going dry again. "Can I have some water, please?" "Yes, of course," Wesley said softly before anyone else could react. He stood and took a step towards the kitchen. "No, he can't," Cordelia said sharply, "Story first, then comfort." "Cordelia!" Wesley looked down at her and shook his head, "The man is obviously in distress and he has come to us for help. Surely you couldn't deny him water..." "Wes, get him the water," Angel instructed, giving Cordelia a warning glance. "And yes, Lindsey, they have to be here. You're a special case -- we're going to all have to decide if we help you, after your past record with us..." "You tried to kill us!" Cordelia accused indignantly, shaking her finger at him. "No, I didn't -- they just tried to drive you insane so that you wouldn't be able to aid Angel -- and that was actually the Vocah, *not* anything I did," Lindsey said defensively. "Oh, well, I suppose that makes all the difference then." "Besides, Angel cut my *hand* off!" "That was your fault, Lindsey," Angel said softly, "You could have simply handed me the scroll..." "No, I couldn't -- you just don't understand what I was dealing with..." "So help us understand, Lindsey -- what happened to you? Why did you call me for help?" Angel urged, leaning forward and staring Lindsey right in the eyes. Just then, Wesley returned with a pitcher of water and a stack of glasses, distracting Lindsey from Angel's gaze long enough to break the spell. "Here," Wesley said, pouring him a glass of water and holding it out to him. The lawyer accepted the glass gratefully and drained half of it, then sat back again. "Thank you," he whispered, then cleared his throat painfully. "As I said, I'm not trying to hide things from you, it's just *embarrassing*. I'd rather not have all of you knowing the whole thing..." "Too bad," Cordelia said coldly, "You burned us -- now we get to hear your story and decide what we're going to do with you." "Cordelia," Angel warned softly, then he looked back at Lindsey. "Go ahead, Lindsey -- tell us what happened. Cordelia will remain quiet until you're finished, won't you, Cordy?" She frowned and folded her arms, but reluctantly nodded. "Okay," Lindsey said, "You know I took a promotion to junior partner after that whole thing with the kids. I... I grew up poor, and I promised myself I'd never be poor again. I also wanted to get out of some of the less pleasant duties of someone in my old position..." "What kind of duties?" Wesley asked, seeing Lindsey's lips twist in disgust as he mentioned that. "You know the kinds of clients we handle," Lindsey said with a shrug; "Some of them have less than savoury tastes... lower level staff are expected to do -- *whatever it takes* to keep the clients happy..." Wesley grimaced and said, "You don't mean--" Lindsey nodded and looked from face to face to see if they were judging him yet. Wesley actually seemed sympathetic, Angel maintained his neutral mask, and Cordelia looked confused. "Among other things," he explained further, "Once we had a Xa-Mul as a client. They *fed* one of the junior staffers to him to keep him happy..." "Eugh!" Cordelia exclaimed with a grimace and a shudder, ignoring Angel's warning glance. "Why did you keep working for them?!" "They recruited me out of school; they paid me well -- I talked myself into accepting the rest of it as just a necessary duty I had to do to keep my job, even if I hated it." "But you're here, so obviously they never fed you to anyone -- unless the demon just coughed you up again as indigestable..." Cordelia rambled on halfway through his explanation, "So I can't figure what you-- oh!" She stopped short, her eyes going round as she studied his face. "Eww!" "Yeah, it was pretty unpleasant sometimes..." Lindsey said, "So I thought a promotion to junior partner was a move out of that kind of duty..." "And it wasn't," Angel said softly. "It was more of the same -- if not worse, wasn't it?" "Yeah, no more risk of being eaten..." Lindsey murmured, "At least not fatally..." "So why come to us now?" Angel asked, thinking about what he had smelled on Lindsey in the car. "If you've been putting out for demons all along, why now?" "Angel!" Wesley gasped, shocked at his bluntness. He turned back to Lindsey and tried to explain, "He didn't mean--" "Yes, he did," Lindsey said, looking down to find he was rubbing his arm where the prosthetic attached. "He's a vampire; he's got a better sense of smell than the rest of you put together," he paused, locking gazes with Angel. "You want to totally humiliate me, Angel, that's fine... Why don't you tell them what happened to me last night?" "No, I think it's better if you tell it..." "What is this, a test to see if I'm serious about this?" Lindsey asked accusingly. "Fine. Whatever..." He took a drink of water, then sat back again and drew in a deep breath. "Last night, Holland summoned a Guaricana demon -- one of our clients -- he liked me. A lot..." "A Guaricana? My *god*, Lindsey, are you all right?" Wesley asked, suddenly jolting upright. When Angel and Cordelia both looked at him accusingly, he explained, "They've got venomous spines -- they inject their prey and-- oh my..." "Do I want to know what 'oh my' is?" Cordelia asked, glancing from Lindsey to Wesley and back. "I never thought -- from what I'd read, I assumed it was fatal," Wesley explained. Lindsey blushed crimson and murmured, "Apparently it isn't, but I certainly wished it was in the morning..." "So, what made you decide you wanted to leave what you were doing?" Angel asked sharply, "Tired of the money suddenly?" "Christ, Angel, don't you think it might actually be that this isn't what I wanted to do with my life? I've heard all of the lawyer jokes, and I really didn't intend to *actually* be a prostitute to the clients!" Lindsey snapped. "Well, I hear you saying it, but it wouldn't be the first time you've lied to me about something like that..." "Fuck you, Angel," Lindsey growled, standing and trying to storm away. Angel stood and blocked his path, stopping him easily as his adrenaline burst abruptly gave out and weakness washed over him again. "What do you want from me, Lindsey? You want us to make your troubles go away so you can just go back to being one of the movers and shakers? Is that it? Just get all of the nasty people out of your way so you can take over Wolfram and Hart?" "No -- that's not it at all," Lindsey answered quietly. "I need your help -- I do..." And suddenly his eyes rolled up and his knees buckled. Angel caught him before he fell and scooped him up in his arms without effort. "Is he--" Wesley asked nervously. They didn't need someone keeling over dead in their place of business... "No, he's unconscious," Angel said softly, leaning close and sniffing carefully at Lindsey's neck. "That venom's still in his system -- he needs time to recover." "Is he going to be okay?" Cordelia asked, frowning as she did so. "Not that I care if *he's* okay, of course -- it's just that we don't need dead lawyers." "I'll sit with him, make sure his vitals don't slip any lower than they already are," Angel answered softly, shifting his grip on his burden so that Lindsey was cradled against his chest. "Once he's over whatever the demon did to him, we'll find out what he's really after." "You don't think this is a trap, do you?" Wesley asked, looking from Cordelia to Angel, then back. "No," Angel answered, glancing down at Lindsey's pale face, "He's not faking this at all -- and he'd never volunteer to let someone do this to him just to get to me..." He shrugged, then added, "I'll be in my room if you guys need me," and then he turned and strode out. The first thing that registered when Lindsey returned to consciousness was the thick down comforter wrapped around him. He snuggled into it and pulled it up to cover his ear and most of his face. Once he was surrounded by the warmth, he took a deep breath -- and realized he was not in his own bed. There was a strong, masculine scent in the comforter, but also the scent of something not human -- something dangerous. A hunter... When something settled on the edge of the bed next to him, he murmured, "Angel?" "I'm kind of surprised, Lindsey," Angel said very softly. Lindsey had to strain to hear the low voice over the rustle of the comforter in his ear. "Surprised?" Lindsey asked, rolling over and pulling the comforter down slightly. He looked up at Angel and drew in a soft gasp when he saw the handsome face already partially twisted into his vampire features. "Yeah -- I thought you were tired of servicing the clients..." He reached out, running fingertips gently down Lindsey's cheek, then down to stroke along the throbbing vein in his throat. Lindsey could see his nostrils flare as he took a deep breath, and then he laughed quietly. "And yet, here you are in my bed, getting hot for me even as you're scared out of your mind..." Lindsey shook his head, and Angel's fingers closed gently around his throat, tightening just enough to let him know Angel *could* hurt him if he wanted to. "What part of it are you denying, Lindsey? I can smell your lust *and* your fear..." "It's not-- I'm not--" Lindsey protested, unable to continue as he found himself drowning in Angel's dark eyes. "Oh god..." "So how long have you been wanting me, anyway?" Angel whispered, leaning close enough to nuzzle at Lindsey's throat; sighing when Lindsey arched his neck, exposing that lovely throat to him in unspoken invitation. He darted out his tongue, tasting Lindsey's suddenly-sweaty skin and savouring the shiver that ran through the young man. "You realize this is a pretty sick obsession, don't you? I cut your hand off and you want to get revenge, but here you are offering yourself up to me in bed..." "I wanted revenge," Lindsey whispered, "but I wanted this longer... If you're going to kill me, please don't make it hurt..." "You want me to kill you?" Angel asked, gently nibbling on the exposed throat, letting Lindsey feel the sharp teeth as they dug ever so lightly into his skin. "No--" Lindsey panted, realizing he had been stripped before being tucked into Angel's bed -- he was completely naked, and getting quite hard. "Then what do you want? Do you want me to fuck you? Or do you want me to bite you?" Again, the light nip, just enough to break the skin and draw forth two ruby beads of blood. He lapped them up with the very tip of his tongue, savouring the shudder that ran through his prey. "Tell me, Lindsey -- or I'll take what *I* want..." Lindsey tried to bring up his good hand to stroke Angel's back, to guide his mouth to where he really wanted it -- instead a strong hand fastened on his wrist and pinned him down, while Angel licked his throat again and worked his way down to Lindsey's nipples. "Oh god!" Lindsey moaned, helplessness sending a shiver of arousal through him. Angel detoured away from the taut nipples for a moment, burying his nose in Lindsey's armpit and inhaling deeply. He let out a growl that was far from anything a human throat could produce, and nuzzled hard -- especially when Lindsey moaned and arched up into him. When he lifted his head again, he was fully vamped and panting himself. "Damn, you smell good, you little whore..." Lindsey's eyes snapped open and he looked up at Angel with fear starting to overtake the lust in his eyes. He struggled against Angel's strength, raising his other arm to try to aid him. When Angel grabbed that one, he closed his hand around the place where flesh ended and plastic began -- and Lindsey screamed and arched into him in sudden, unexpected orgasm. The abrupt response startled Angel out of the bloodlust that had begun to overtake him. He released Lindsey as if burned, and stared down at him in shock. "What the hell was that -- tell me it doesn't turn you--" "No! It doesn't--" Lindsey protested, gasping for breath and pulling his arm in to cradle it against his chest. "I don't..." His eyes went wide in fear and he murmured, "Oh god -- I wasn't imagining it..." "What?" There was a sudden commotion outside the room, and then the door burst open. Wesley skidded to a stop just inside the room saying, "We heard a scream -- is everything-- oh." Cordelia crashed into him from behind, then peered over his shoulder and wrinkled her nose. "Okay, I don't want to know -- tell me you weren't--" "What are you two doing here?" Angel asked softly, choosing to neither deny nor confirm their suspicions. "We heard him scream -- we thought you were killing him..." Wesley explained, blushing as his gaze met Lindsey's. "I'm sorry -- we wanted to stop you before you... murdered... I'm sorry." "Something's wrong here," Angel explained. "Wes, come here; touch his prosthetic," he ordered, grabbing Lindsey's arm by the elbow and pulling it away from his chest. "No, please," Lindsey whispered, struggling futilely against Angel's strength. "Must I?" Wesley asked, looking down at Lindsey and seeing that yes, he was indeed naked under that comforter. "I'm not--" "Do it, Wes -- there's something not right here." Wesley reached out, first poking at the prosthetic hand with a fingertip, as if he were afraid it would bite him. When nothing happened, he let out the breath he was holding and gently stroked it with his whole hand. Lindsey gasped, shocked, as a spark of arousal shot through him. When Wesley frowned and stroked his hand again, he moaned helplessly and arched back in the bed. Wesley pulled his hand away and murmured, "Oh dear..." Angel frowned, then looked past Wesley to Cordelia, who shook her head and said, "Oh no, I'm *not* touching that thing -- I don't know where it's been!" "Cordy, touch it," Angel instructed. "I need to see what happens." "Angel, you're embarrassing him," Wesley protested, seeing Lindsey turn away as his cheeks burned with shame. "Cordy, just touch it. You don't have to date him, just touch his damned hand!" "I think that's about the size of it," Wesley said softly, stepping out of the way and letting Cordelia step closer. She wrinkled her nose again and reached out hesitantly, poking at the prosthetic exactly the same way Wesley had done. When there was no reaction, she smiled and said, "See, no problem." She nearly jumped back, but Angel grabbed her hand with his free one, and pulled her closer. "Just stroke it once, Cordy," he ordered, pulling her hand close to the prosthetic, ignoring the fact that Lindsey whimpered in discomfort. "You're hurting him," Wesley observed, wishing this whole thing was over with. He had a very uncomfortable feeling that he knew what was going on, and the sooner they had it figured out and had Lindsey out of their home, the better. Cordelia saw the pain in Lindsey's face, the flush of embarrassment and shame that was still bright on his cheeks -- and the fear in his eyes. The hand was strapped to his body -- if there was something wrong with it, he was the first one who would be hurt. Part of her wanted to see him hurt; the part that was still angry about what he had done to all of them. But part of her couldn't let her be responsible for being the one to hurt him. She reached out and gently stroked the prosthetic, jumping back as he gasped and shuddered again. "Yuck!" "I was afraid of that..." Angel said softly. He released Lindsey's arm, aware that the young man pulled it back under the comforter the second he did so. "Lindsey, Wolfram and Hart gave you that hand, didn't they?" "Yeah -- the firm has its own medical offices -- they don't go through any HMO or any other company because of the odd injuries people get sometimes... There would be too many questions, the police would get involved..." "Makes sense," Angel said. Then he frowned and added, "I think it's cursed." To be continued...