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Entry tags:	fic, jossverse fic

Lindsey Ficathon!
All the Lost Angels
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Lindsey/Connor
Warning: mild slash
Spoilers: Home, none for season 5
Additional Requests: Romance, Angst
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Mutant Enemy.
Description: Lindsey returns to LA, post Home, and his hope for an Angel-free life doesn't work out quite as planned.
This is for doyle_sb4, I hope you like it.



Lindsey still has the mind of a lawyer. It tallies facts, weighs the odds, and it doesn't like unnecessary risks. Right now it's telling him to grab his shit and get the hell out of town, but Lindsey has always had more passion than brains.

Steve, Connor, whoever he is now, hasn't left the bedroom in nine days; Angel has phoned twelve times, and Lindsey thinks of leaving every thirty-four minutes or so. The logic that keeps him here is the same that convinced him falling in love with a resurrected ex-vampire wouldn't end badly. Lindsey knows this. Ever since he met Angel his life has been one pathetic failure after another, and there's little chance that this situation will break the cycle. If anything, it'll perpetuate it.

No question. Lindsey should leave, and soon. But he doesn't grab his bags, and he doesn't tell Connor that things are too complicated; he's too old and too tired to do this. Instead he paces the living room and tries to figure out how he's managed to, once again, get himself involved with a certain sanctimonious vampire.

It began with Darla. Of that he's sure. He'd been involved with Angel before her, but she cemented things. Angel and Darla have done little but rip his life to shreds, but that doesn't stop the pang in his chest when he remembers her. Yeah, that part's obvious. What isn't as clear is why Lindsey's eyes sting and his hands, not just the evil one, clench at the thought of anyone hurting Connor. Squirming himself into Lindsey's bed is one thing, but invading his affections is another.

*************

Lindsey hated Oklahoma. Everything was exactly as he remembered, if not worse. The town he grew up in consisted of little more than trailer parks, dirt, and too cheap girls in their K-Mart cutoffs. Wolfram & Hart started sounding less evil and more enticing the longer he stayed. Which, ultimately, was only four months.

Long enough to visit with family and have a brief affair with Mark, a recently-outed high school buddy. He knew Mark cared for him, might have even loved him. Not that it mattered. Lindsey needed someone who wouldn't remind him of Darla, who would look up to him and care for him even when he deserved neither. Evil didn't have a twelve-step program of recovery, and Lindsey reassured himself that his actions were little more than selfish and callous. Those things he would live with.

The feeling of relief he felt seeing the sign, 'Leaving Oklahoma', didn't last. Control and structure, no matter how ephemeral, had been a constant since college, and aimlessness didn't seem romantic. When he left LA, Lindsey hadn't understood that he was trading in limos, expensive hookers, and a beautiful penthouse for Rolling Rock beer and Motel 6. The elation of knowing there was still a part of himself that wasn't perverted by Wolfram & Hart was fading fast. And though he loved his music, it couldn't replace everything he'd given up.

New Orleans had come first, but he was only there a month before humidity and disgustingly large cockroaches made it intolerable. Miami had lasted a little longer. The availability of drugs, sunshine, and attractive women, which originally drew him to the city, was also what drove him away. New York had its appeal until he took a man home only to discover he wasn't exactly human, or alive. No matter where he went, there were always reasons to leave, some of which Lindsey knew were flimsy, and gradually he worked his way back west.

His first night back in California he spent holed up in a cheap hotel with orange shag carpet and a bedspread that couldn't have been made of any material but burlap. That night he laid on his mattress, springs digging into his spinal cord, and remembered a story he read in high school. The book didn't have much meaning when he was seventeen, but there was a lifetime of distance between who he had been and who he was. In it, every character was drawn to this one city in Africa, and it changed all of their lives; some of them it broke and some of them it saved. Los Angeles had become Lindsey's Johannesburg. Whatever he was meant to be, he was sure it would be found there.

He was in town for four days when he heard that Wolfram & Hart had been rebuilt. Lindsey didn't bother to hide his smile when he heard who the new boss was. Angel the proud, Angel the faultless, had finally fallen. In life, David could only stand up to Goliath for so long. Either join him, or get the hell out of his way. It had been Lindsey's experience that seldom, if ever, did the meek and righteous triumph; one of the many reasons he was an atheist.

Talented and determined, it didn't take him long to find steady work, and Lindsey was enjoying himself. He kept out of trouble and avoided everything Wolfram & Hart. Angel had to know he was back, but he seemed content to leave Lindsey to his own devices. Must have been busy trying to run an evil law firm and maintain the 'pure as the driven snow' image. Life had become simple and surprisingly easy. Things didn't get complicated 'til he met Connor.

**********

Lindsey woke up and immediately took stock of his situation. His head was throbbing, his stomach burning, and there was someone warm pressed against his back. Okay, that was different. Fucking strangers had become rather common, but drunk or sober, he always kicked them out.

Quietly rolling over, he stared at the face next to him. Male, womanish haircut, and-Lindsey thought as he peeked under the sheet-not bad in other areas. He'd screwed less attractive people while drunk. Hell, he'd had sex with boys not in this kid's league while sober. It was this that he hated. Telling the guy to leave was much easier when he was drunk; not something Lindsey liked to deal with early in the morning. Maybe he'll be nice and make the kid a cup of coffee first.

He rinsed out the coffee maker, and decided that this called for a strong cup. He leaned against the counter and focused on the previous night. The set had gone well, and Lindsey remembered sitting at the bar thinking he'd never be Neil Young, but the praise was giving him hope that he might one day be Jeff Buckley's more attractive, if less talented cousin. Drinking. That was what he'd done all night.

"Hello." Lindsey heard the wobbly voice call from the next room.

"In here."

The boy walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a sheet. That wasn't what caught Lindsey's attention. Not the hands clutching a little too tight, not the wide eyes, not the mussed hair, and not even the pouty lips. No, it was the way the boy moved, with the grace of a predator rather than a dancer. Lindsey couldn't remember the last time he was this hard.

"Hi. I, um, couldn't find my clothes." The slight nervous grin made him look so young. Lindsey didn't think he'd ever had that smile.

"I made us some coffee," Lindsey said gesturing towards the living room. "I think your clothes are in there. So, are you going to give me your name, or should I just call you kid?"

"I'm not a kid, I'm nineteen, and my name is Steve. I told you all this last night." Steve's expression didn't change, but his shoulders tightened and his voice seemed older, more mature. Got to respect a man that knew to hide his weaknesses.

"Slipped my mind." Lindsey flashed the lawyer smile that always worked with his female clients, all teeth and dirty thoughts. "I won't let it happen again."

Steve just stared at him for a moment, and then Lindsey was covered in strong boy-flesh. Lindsey opened his mouth and grabbed Steve's hair, pulling him closer. Maybe having overnight guests wasn't such a bad idea.

Lindsey maneuvered them around. Steve's back was pressed against the sink, his hips moving rhythmically against Lindsey. The sunlight was coming through the window highlighting the strangely feminine features, but other things captured Lindsey's attention. One, Stevie knew what he was doing, and two, thank fucking God he's human.

*************

"No."

"You said-"

"You can't prove anything." The mock serious look on Lindsey's face was nearly washed away with laughter every time he looked at Steve.

Lindsey had been sleeping with him for three months, and life was good. Yeah, the kid was naïve and too young for him, but they enjoyed each other. Had fun together without needing to dig too deeply into the other's past. Not that a kid of nineteen was likely to have one, at least not one that compared with his own.

Tonight they were on their way to a bar to listen to a new country singer Lindsey was particularly fond of. Steve's fake ID would get him in, but he didn't like the cowboy hat at all.

"Sorry," A deep voice said as it brushed by Lindsey, pushing him into Steven.

"Don't worry about it," Lindsey said realizing who it was. He thought Angel was going to say something, but whatever it was froze in his throat the second he saw Steve. "Dark alley. No surprise finding you here."

The moment Angel's gaze returned to him, Lindsey wished he could recant his statement. Which was the last thought he had before he was slammed into the brick wall.

"What the fuck are you doing with my son?" Angel's face was only inches away from his own, and his hand was covering Lindsey's throat. Nothing like a reunion to bring out Angel's homicidal tendencies, but Lindsey was more than a little confused. Had Angel lost the last few brain cells left floating in that very large head of his?

"You're aware that you're a vampire, right?" Lindsey knew the superior tone was ineffective when wheezing followed it. Good to know Angel hadn't lost his strength or penchant for making people gasp.

"Connor, you can't trust him. He-" Angel stopped and looked at Lindsey, his face twisted with confusion. "You really don't know?"

The hand was gone, and Angel backed away. Whatever was wrong with him, it had just gotten worse. That didn't bother Lindsey as much as the look on Steve's face.

"What did you call me?" Steven was advancing on Angel, his expression ugly and feral in a way Lindsey had never seen before.

"I… nothing. I was confused. You look like someone I used to know."

Steve's eyes were filled with tears as he looked up. "What did you do? What did you do to me, you dead thing?"

*************

There were signs. Now that Lindsey knows the truth he can see them. Connor's strength and arrogance so much like his father's; his fragile bone structure and beauty, a darker masculine version of Darla. It was there the entire time.

Some things are inevitable. Connor will go back to Angel, and he'll be left alone again. Left for a vampire that doesn't treasure his things half as much as Lindsey would.

"Lindsey."

The voice is so small. Not the same boy who insisted movies can only be watched with extra buttery popcorn, not the wild creature that came home and shattered every breakable object in the apartment. No, this isn't Steven or Connor. This is what's left after Angel breaks his toys, and it hurts Lindsey to see it. Angel can explain his decision any way he likes, but it won't fix the boy in the next room.

Lindsey walks into the room without turning on the lights. He knows life can be too hard if things are allowed to focus. For the first time in days he lies next to Connor and wraps his arms around the familiar body. "I'm not leaving."

"I don't want to see him. I don't want to look at him. He…they're not real. My family. He made them so he wouldn't have to deal with me anymore."

Lindsey knows there are things he could say here. Ways to make Steven understand, but all he can think of is the smell of Angel that clung to Darla, old, sensual, musky.

"We'll leave. Just the two of us, and you'll never have to see him again. You're mine now." He isn't going to lose another one to Angel.