Title: A Slight Change of Plan, an Angel/Lindsey story
Author: Brenda Antrim
Email: bren@bantrim.net
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers: For To Shansu in L.A. with significant alternate universe elements (no paw lopping, people die, choose your own ending). Caveat lector - Reader beware!
Author's Notes: Direct sequel to His Place in the World. With thanks to Kevin R., the direct inspiration for Plan B.

[Plan A]


Angel made certain he was gone by the time Lindsey woke up. They were getting too close; there was a tenderness between them that made him wary. His soul was quite literally at stake, and he didn't dare lose himself in what he was beginning to feel. On the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to turn his back on Lindsey. If this was real, then the man he was reluctantly beginning to care for was in imminent danger.

Another month crawled by, two more nights of passion, two more nights of Angel barely holding on to his soul with his nails. Lindsey was surprisingly vulnerable, and unsurprisingly stubborn about refusing to admit it. He needed Angel, and Angel found himself responding to that need. More files were smuggled out, more demons were killed, more innocents were saved. In the back of his mind, as he was slaying the ungodly and washing off the muck afterward, reassuring Wesley and calming Cordelia, or laying quietly with Lindsey listening to that thrumming human heartbeat, he could hear something else. A clock ticking.

Time was running out. For all of them. For everything.

He tried to confront Lindsey about it, but those steady green eyes stared through him. "Not yet," Lindsey said, the Oklahoma burr underlying his words stronger than usual. "Not just yet." But when Angel tried to pry out of Lindsey just what he was waiting for, the lawyer went cagey on him.

It drove Angel nuts.

Made him nervous. Made him jumpy.

Made him care too much.

Something had to give.

Soon.

In a comfortably dark room, carefully shaded to keep out the bright Los Angeles sunshine and lushly appointed in leather and mahogany, three beings sat in silence.

"Lilah Morgan," one finally said.

"Trustworthy, in her way. Useful, to the limits of her abilities," the second agreed.

"And the boy?" The third brought the burning question to the table.

"Is taking too long," the second one announced. There was an air of finality, of judgement passed and read. Silence descended again.

"The abomination?" The third asked the next important question.

"Kill him. Kill them," the first one decided. "All of them." The others nodded.

It was to be war, then. Let it begin, and be done, and be put behind them.

Immediately.

Lindsey was nearly home when the attack hit. Two black sedans came out of nowhere, forcing his car off the side of Mulholland Drive into the scrub. He scrabbled for his seatbelt and threw himself out of the car before it tumbled down the side of the mountain. Lying there, stunned, his head ringing, he barely had time to bring his hands up in front of his face before the first one hit. Dimly, he was aware of two more coming from the second Lexus, scurrying across the dirt to join the fight.

Or, more likely, the slaughter.

Clawing at the demon's eyes, one hand digging into its windpipe, Lindsey kicked desperately at the second demon, squirming like a fish on a hook to get away from them. From the road behind them came the sound of tires squealing, then a howl that made his skin crawl. The demon pounding on his stomach was abruptly pulled off him and he dragged in a much-needed gulp of air.

Then he watched in dazed horror as the demon's head was ripped completely off its shoulders, the head tossed one way, the body the other as his rescuer lit into the remaining demons.

Angel, in full Angelus mode, went through the Tasker demons as if they were school girls, not the most feared Enforcer demons in Wolfram and Hart's employ. The second demon's face was pulverized; the third had his throat ripped out; the fourth's spine was snapped like a toothpick. It all happened so fast Lindsey hadn't even moved by the time the fourth corpse was dropped into the dirt.

"Angel?" he asked shakily. Angelus turned to him. His face shifted, contorting between Angel's human features and Angelus' demon visage. There was a massive struggle going on, and Lindsey wasn't at all sure he wanted to be around to see who won. One strangled word Angel coughed out before Angelus wrested control back settled the matter.

"Run!"

He did.

He made it to one of the Tasker demons' sedans and nearly set it on its side turning it around. By the time he was back in normal LA traffic, he was driving at a sedate speed, blending in with the SUVs and beemers swarming around him. He didn't consciously make the decision to return to the Firm, but he'd survived this long by following his instincts, and he didn't doubt them now.

This attack could have been the final push from the Firm to nudge Angel over the edge into Angelus, force him to protect Lindsey, force-bloom a deeper connection between them. If it hadn't been love that had launched Angel into a rumpus to save his ass, then he didn't know what it had been. The near-ascendancy of Angelus had to be a good sign.

Didn't it?

A decade and a half as a rising star at Wolfram and Hart had taught him many things, including a hell of a poker face, a truly black sense of humor, and an unparalleled instinct for survival. The last made him move very carefully as he entered the firm. He went in the executive entrance, timing it so that he followed another associate in and didn't have to use his card. He knew as well as he knew his own name that if they really wanted him dead, he had very little time to find out what the hell was going on and get out. Even if he did escape, he didn't have much hope of staying alive for long. He hung on hard to the thought that this was another ploy, that Wolfram and Hart was still behind him, that Holland would let him play out his hand. That he would win.

That particular delusion came crashing down around him a few minutes later. Standing, or more aptly lurking, in the hall outside his office, he heard Lilah's voice, and Holland's answering. He crept up against the hall and pressed his ear to the door, concentrating hard.

"- a promotion, my dear. With a six figure salary, and ungodly benefits."

"I thought this was Lindsey's office," Lilah countered, a hint of archness in her voice. Lindsey winced, then shuddered when he heard the reply.

"Lindsey's ... retired. Are you interested?"

He didn't wait to hear any more. He didn't need the confirmation. His last chance was gone.

Less than six minutes passed from the time he'd breached the outer foyer until he was once again in the Lexus and back on the streets. He headed directly for Angel Investigations. The fiction that had begun his last assignment for Wolfram and Hart had just become reality. Slight change in plan, number two.

As he rounded the corner of the street, he pulled up, nearly sending the car over the curb in the process. Hell was breaking loose, and Angel was right in the middle of it. The offices were on fire, Tasker demon corpses were piled in crumpled heaps on the street, and Angel was fighting like a madman in the middle of the chaos.

Sliding from the Lexus, he ran around to the back and pulled razor-edged wood and metal stakes from the trunk. Coming in low, he skewered two Taskers and dodged a third. Slamming his back against Angel's, he screamed, "Where the fuck's Wesley?"

"Don't know," Angel growled, breaking a Tasker over his knee like plywood and sending the pieces back into the mob. Three Taskers were knocked over, one dying as the horn on the forehead of its dead comrade struck it through the throat.

Lindsey ducked a stone pike aimed at his head and feinted up, spearing the oncoming Tasker under the breastbone with his stake then kicking the corpse off into the attackers. "We need help!"

"Really?" Angel asked coolly, slamming a Tasker under the jaw with the butt of his hand, breaking its neck, then using its horn to impale another. "You think?"

As if responding to a cue, a hybrid humvee trundled around the corner, klieg light bringing brilliant clarity to the carnage. Stakes flew through the air, catching the Taskers by surprise, and the battle was joined. Caught between Angel and Lindsey on one side, and Gunn's forces on the other, the Taskers were eventually slaughtered to the last demon. Covered with blood, his own and the dead demons', Lindsey found himself being helped to his feet by Gunn. The youth's expression was priceless.

"You fight pretty good for a skinny white shark," Gunn complimented him. Lindsey scowled up at him and started to make a smart ass reply when he felt more than saw Angel stiffen beside him. Forgetting the challenge, he turned to Angel. The vampire was staring at the doorway to the burning remains of his building.

Two of Gunn's soldiers were bringing out Wesley, suspended, unconscious and bleeding, between them. At first Lindsey thought that was what had caught Angel's attention, until they moved aside and he saw the third gang member.

Carrying Cordelia.

More to the point, Cordelia's body. There was a gaping, bloody hole in her chest. Her eyes were wide open, but they weren't seeing anything. They never would again.

The next hour was a blur. He followed Angel to the hospital, stood outside the door quietly as Cordelia was carried away to the morgue, listened while the doctor pronounced Wesley's injuries grave but not life-threatening. He stood in the background, blood drying on his clothes, waving off doctors who wanted to patch him up, nurses who wanted to clean him up, and watched Angel.

Gunn came up to him, making very little noise. Angel didn't notice.

"How's the man?" he asked quietly, gesturing at Angel.

Lindsey shrugged one shoulder, trying not to move very much. He was stiff and sore, tired and confused. "I don't know." He could feel Gunn watching him.

"Whose side you on?"

"Mine," Lindsey answered honestly. "And his." Perhaps more honesty than he'd like to admit in that one.

"They the same?" Gunn was staring at him, cold suspicion on his face.

"Yeah," Lindsey returned just as coldly. For some reason, the answer seemed to satisfy Gunn.

"Can't go back home," he pointed out.

"Either of us," Lindsey agreed.

"Come back with me," Gunn offered. Lindsey looked up at him. Gunn was looking at Angel.

"Okay," Lindsey said quietly. Shoving himself away from the wall, he approached Angel cautiously. "Angel?"

The vampire didn't move.

"It'll be dawn soon." Still no movement. "They know where you are. They won't stop until we're both dead." Slight movement, a shiver, maybe the beginning of a shrug. Lindsey took a deep breath. "You can't take on all the Firm single-handedly. Especially when you're in shock and grieving. If you do, and they kill you, who'll protect Wesley? Gunn?" He paused. "Me?" he finished very quietly.

Angel's head turned very slowly to look at him. He moved as if he could feel every one of his two hundred and fifty years. "Didn't do much good protecting Cordelia," he said, his voice low and thready.

"D'you honestly think she'd want you to commit suicide? 'Cause that's what it'd be. We'll stop them, Angel. But we have to have a plan."

"C'mon, man." Gunn stepped up beside Lindsey. He spared a thought for the oddness of the alliance before Gunn spoke up again. "We gotta get out of here. Like the shark says. Make a plan. Take 'em down."

Angel rose stiffly, glancing once at Wesley before turning back to Lindsey and Gunn. "Can your men protect him while he's in here?"

"We on it," Gunn told him. Angel nodded. Took a step. Stumbled.

Lindsey was at his side, an arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him before he could fall. Angel and Gunn looked at him with the same expression of vague surprise. He ignored them both.

At the exit door, a certain blonde detective was waiting for them. She started in on Angel before any of them could say a word. Barely half a dozen words were out of her mouth, and Angel had only managed a tired, "Kate," before Lindsey went into action.

"Do you have a warrant, detective?" he rapped out. She stared at him, her mouth still slightly open. He plowed on. "Because if you don't, then get out of his face. My client has had a harrowing experience tonight, and suffered grievous losses, both personal and property. So unless you have material evidence linking him to a crime or a warrant made out for his arrest, then get out of the way." By the time he finished the standard warning, his voice was nearly a bellow. Gunn looked like he was about to laugh. Angel looked shocked. Kate looked stunned. Nobody said a word. "Fine," he snapped. "Move."

She did. So did they. He didn't look back. He knew what expression she'd have when she got over the shock. Pure disgust. He'd just made another enemy for Angel that night. By the time they were settled in Angel's car, Gunn was laughing helplessly. Angel just looked at him.

"Your client?"

Lindsey refused to look at him. "Worked, didn't it?"

"Your client?" Angel repeated.

"Christ on a crutch," Lindsey spat. "Sounds better than my butt buddy, don't it?" Pure Oklahoma farm boy showed through his hard-won veneer. He was extremely stressed and it was showing.

Gunn choked. Angel started to laugh. "What?" Gunn wheezed from the back seat.

"Nothin'," Lindsey roared, accent overtaking him completely. "Everybody just shut the fuck up and ... and ... " Realizing he hadn't the faintest idea where he was going, he took a calming breath asked Gunn in a perfectly normal tone of voice, "Where to?"

Gunn broke up again. Dawn was lighting the sky before they finally made it to shelter.

Thankfully, Lindsey and Angel had a small room in the rabbit warren the homeless kids lived in that afforded them some privacy. It was a good thing, because Lindsey was starting to shake. Two brushes with death, two apocalyptic battles, a grieving vampire, an irate detective, and his entire life blowing up in his face had finally caught up with him.

Angel pulled Lindsey down to sit beside him, curling an arm over his shoulders and holding him protectively. "How much time do we have?"

Lindsey found himself snuggling into Angel's side, something he hadn't done since he was a kid. Thinking that he really should do something about that weakness, when he wasn't so damned tired, he gave into temptation and stayed right where he was. "They threw everything they had at you."

"Us," Angel corrected him.

"Us," he agreed. "They failed. They don't like failure." He had the fleeting thought that Holland wasn't going to like the results of this night's work, then dismissed it. Holland had washed his hands of him. Lindsey couldn't afford to be worried about his ex-mentor. Ever again. "They'll take some time to regroup. Can't afford to be too visible, and your Kate could make them pretty near naked on this one. We've got some breathing room." He was silent for a little while, gradually turning until he was holding Angel as Angel was holding him. "I'm sorry about Cordelia," he offered very quietly.

Angel's arm tightened around him. "Yeah." He didn't say anything for another long moment, then took a deep breath. "One more they'll pay for."

Lindsey nodded. He wouldn't have chosen this fight, because he had the gut feeling that they were on the losing side of the battle, but it hadn't been his choice to make. Now that it was made for him, he was going to do his damnedest to make sure they won. Holding that thought close, he finally allowed himself to relax and fall asleep.

It took a little persuading, but the next night after visiting Wesley and getting an update on his progress, Angel drove them over to Cordelia's apartment. On the way, Lindsey found out about Dennis, Cordy's live-in ghost.

"It might be difficult, when we tell him," Angel said softly, staring straight ahead.

Difficult for all of them, Lindsey thought, most especially you. Opening the door, Angel hesitated on the threshold, and Lindsey looked up at him. "Need an invitation?"

"No," Angel replied, a strained look around his eyes and mouth. It took a second for Lindsey to understand.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. Angel glanced at him.

"Not your fault." Squaring his shoulders, Angel forced himself to step inside. Lindsey watched him carefully as he walked through the apartment, touching things briefly, saying goodbye.

"Would you like me to do this?" he found himself offering. Angel gave him a half-smile, then shook his head.

"Dennis?" Angel asked. There was a stirring in the air. As if the ghost could read Angel's mind, the sound of keening whirled around them. Angel clenched his jaw. Lindsey looked down at his feet. It went on for several moments before the grief-stricken sound died away. "I'm sorry," Angel offered, the grief echoed in his own voice. The breeze touched Angel's face, ruffled his hair, then disappeared.

Looking around the apartment, Lindsey had an idea. "Where's Wesley live?" he asked. Angel looked at him.

"Around the corner from the office," he answered. "Why?"

Lindsey looked around again, pointedly. "Do you think Cordelia would mind?"

Angel looked around as well. He bit his lip. "No. I don't think so."

Suddenly the wind kicked up madly, and Lindsey was spun around, Angel beside him. On the large mirror in the hall, a mist had appeared on the glass, and writing was forming on the surface of the mirror.

of course i don't mind he lives in a flea pit

this place is rent controlled! don't you DARE lose it!

Below the mist, a face appeared. Then a second. One was familiar, the other wasn't.

The boy in the mirror grinned, and leaned forward to kiss Cordelia's cheek. Lindsey saw her lips move. It looked like she said phantom Dennis. He glanced over at Angel's face. The vampire was smiling. His whole face was glowing.

He reached out and laid his hand on Angel's sleeve, and those deep brown eyes stared down at him, a measure of peace in their depths. He smiled back, and was about to ask Angel about the nickname, when the world slid sideways.

His brain pulsed. Somebody was screaming. If he'd ever taken LSD he'd've thought he was having a flashback. The walls melted in psychedelic colors. He tasted blood and tears. The screamer wouldn't shut the hell up. A sidewalk floated in front of his face, then numbers painted on a curb. He saw a condo, vertical blinds clattering at the open windows, blood spattering the walls. His hands were at his temples, fighting to keep the screams on the inside where they belonged, and he was gasping words, but he couldn't hear them.

When the world thudded back into place, he found himself held tightly in Angel's right arm, left hand holding what looked like three aspirin out to him.

"What the hell was that?" he rasped out. Angel handed him the aspirin and he swallowed them dry, not waiting for the glass of water that followed.

"A vision," Angel said simply. "Looks like the Powers that Be have chosen a new messenger."

He stared up at the bemused vampire, his jaw hanging open in stone stupid shock. Angel leaned over and kissed his mouth closed.

"Welcome to the fight."

Lindsey stared up at him and made yet another slight change of plans.


Want to try Plan B? (follows the end of Plan, not this ending)