ethrosdemon & Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Damnation III - The Devil You Know
by ethrosdemon & Lar

EMAIL: naturallycalm@yahoo.com and HERE
DISTRIBUTION: List archives, people who beg, you know the routine.
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Mutant Enemy own the boys, we just pretend that we do. We have nothing of value, do not sue us.
PAIRING: Xander/Lindsey
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Shanshu
SUMMARY: Xander travels and confronts.
DEDICATION: TO Katie for the beta. And the hand holding.

============

A week goes by, then ten days and finally Xander has had enough.

Enough of thinking about the dream, and not just the part where he was almost killed. He's had enough of hearing Lindsey tell him he didn't have the heart. He's in sheer dread that Dream Lindsey might have had the right idea about him, or that it was some weird Slayer-special future vision vibe, that Lin had gone home and slit his wrists. Too witless to call him, just to hear his voice, because what if the answering machine was gone? What if the secretary at the office refused to let his call through or told him that Mr. McDonald was no longer with the firm?

Guilt doesn't let the sickness from before remanifest, so he's not walking around like a skeleton. Instead he's jumpy, wired to his teeth and no one can stand to be near him except Dawn. Even Anya is a little weirded out by him, and she skips two nights. Says she has her period. He doesn't remember that ever stopping her before. Too wrapped up in his own battle to figure out what to do with himself, and too afraid of making the wrong choice again //three strikes and you are so out//; he doesn't sleep well or peacefully, although there are no more dreams like the last one, *the* dream that he suspects is trying to tell him that it's time to get his ass in gear. Grow up. Make a choice and live with it.

Three notes, then, as identical as if he'd photocopied them. Wills, Anya, Dawn and Buffy (one note doing double duty, even though he only adds Buffy's name as an afterthought):

"I have to go away for a while. I'll call when I can. Please don't worry or be angry. I'm sorry.
- Xander"

Leaves the notes on his bed, and it's back to the bus station, and Xander is going to see if things work well in reverse.

=====

Polite knocking on the door of the apartment jars Lindsey from his reverie. He's been staring out the floor to ceiling window in his living room, looking at the city. It's smoggy and grey, dirt hanging in the atmosphere, filling the lungs of the population and recycling back out filthier than before. He used to think it was a nice view. The painkillers dull most of his senses, but he seems to have his own personal adverse reaction to them: his vision is so clear that it scares him. When he can work up the energy to feel anything, that is.

Walks over to the door, and opens it. Never bothers to wonder who the hell it is that got in without a buzz from the doorman, unless it's the apartment manager or maybe the super. Takes in tender brown eyes, tangle of black curls and look of extreme nervousness that gives him a painful jolt of deja vu to the first time Xander ever appeared at his door, before he swings it shut, hard.

Doesn't make it all the way closed. The drugs slow him down and Xander is prepared for just about any reaction he might receive. His boot in the doorway to keep the lock from engaging, they have a brief shoving contest with the door before Lindsey just gives up. Turns his back and walks away, heads back to the portal to the world below. Xander stands in the open doorway a minute, tentatively steps in. Drops his duffle bag to the floor. Dries sweating palms on his pant-legs and takes a breath.

"Lin, I know you're mad at me. You have the right to be..." All rehearsed in his head on the bus ride out here, trying to think ahead and offer up any and all reasons why Lin might take him back, damaged goods in more ways that one.

Lindsey's voice comes back to him, cuts him off before he gets rolling. "I have other things on my mind, actually."

"Um, ok, so you're trying to move on with your life..." He's ready for that, ready to ask if they can start afresh, come clean. Beg. Plead. Become another person if that's what it takes.

"No, not really." Lindsey sounds detached and amused. Not angry. And not altogether *there.*

Cue Plan A, Xander just lets everything tumble out. He's walking, closing the physical gap between them. Desperately needing to be close to Lindsey again, see his face. See if he can get a spark of something in those blue eyes that's just for him. "I know you don't want me to be here, or want to hear what I have to say, but I can't stay away. I'm so sorry, please, you don't have to forgive me, just let me back in your life."

"What life? There isn't one." He sees Lindsey's right up on the wall full of glass, left hand pressed to the surface. His words make Xander's heart shatter into even tinier pieces. Despite his resolve to handle anything that Lindsey might put him through on the road back to 'together', the plans are crumbling under the stunning indifference on display. As if they'd been casual acquaintances once a long time ago, instead of what they were, what he was to Xander at any rate.

"Lindsey, you're fucking killing me here. Just tell me what I can do." Catch in his voice and the tears are in Xander's throat, burning behind his eyes.

"Time travel?" Half turned body, and Xander can see his profile clearly, sun shining in the glass behind him. Flashes to the Dream Lindsey in the doorway and feels a chill chase itself up his spine.

"Would you at least look at me?" Xander's voice cracking now, pitched higher because of the crying, and he doesn't care that Lindsey can hear it.

"No." Same tone, cool voice, and it could be any two people in the world having a conversation about the weather, instead of Xander offering himself on any altar of Lindsey's choosing, eager to make any sacrifice that would bring his life back to the place he needs it to be, the place he was willing to give up his whole life, his family, his support network to get to.

He's not leaving here without trying everything, and that includes making Lindsey see him, really *see* him, heart on his sleeve. On his knees, if he has to, and he'll do it all gladly. Xander crosses the room, takes Lindsey by the shoulder and spins him.

Hiss of pain from Lindsey, and Xander is stunned. His eyes drop immediately to the arm that Lindsey cradles to his chest. Heart plummeting to his stomach as he tries to make sense of what he sees there. Actually does stumble, reels with the shock of it and feels the blood in his face drain away. Thinks he might be sick at the realization of what he can barely process.

"Lindsey, did you have an accident...why didn't you call me, goddamn it! What happened to you, was it a car accident? What?" He's almost in shock, the real kind, body going cold, pulse slowing instead of speeding, wants to take Lindsey in his arms but is afraid to touch him again, afraid to hurt him more. Doesn't think he could hold both of them up anyway. Stands there with his arm raising and lowering as he reaches out and pulls himself back over and over.

"It wasn't an accident."

Flush of heat and then icy cold at the stillness about Lindsey, the way he doesn't seem to be reacting to anything, not to what his own mouth is saying, not Xander standing before him. "You mean it was on purpose? You cut your hand off?" Pushes his hair away from his face, attempts to find the centering place, like Giles taught him. "Lin, what's wrong with your voice, are you stoned?"

"It wasn't me, and yeah, a little." Half smile from him that never reaches his eyes. It makes Xander flinch to see Lindsey behaving like this. No emotion, not even anger, and that's not the man he knows at all.

Tries another tactic to get a semblance of a clue as to what's going on in this room. "Alright, someone cut your hand off who wasn't you, and it was on purpose?"

"Yup." Lindsey still cradles the injured limb to his chest.

"Could we have a little more detail?" Babying him, soft questions with no sarcasm in word or intent. Xander just needs to know what the hell happened. How could someone cut off Lindsey's hand on purpose? This wasn't the goddamn Middle Ages, eye for an eye and one handed thieves, and ...oh holy fuck. Darkness creeping into his vision as he makes a sickening connection.

"Lin...did this happen because of me? Did they find out about me and do this to you?"

Confusion on Lindsey's face for a minute as he puzzles out the definition of 'they.' "They? What? No. It had nothing to do with you."

"But, it was work, right? Did they catch you for stealing those things? Was this your punishment?" Thought after thought, none of them formed fully from the push of the next to get in, guilt riding high as the main theme threatens to drown Xander where he stands, because Lindsey was leaving for *him,* stole the things he stole for *him*, because Lindsey thought Xander wanted him to leave, and this he could never live with, not in a million years...

"No, I got a promotion." Feral grin, and he lets his arm slowly drop to his side.

The beginning of a blinding headache is throbbing at Xander's temples, and he wonders if he's lost track of something somewhere. Feels like the puzzle pieces aren't coming together at all. "I'm having trouble following you...you got promoted because you stole from your firm."

"Yes."

"And that has nothing to do with the fucking fact your hand is missing?" Exasperation starting to win the war of which emotion to choose, and it's showing. Xander steadies himself, deep breath, since it's obvious that Lindsey is not all together himself. Residue maybe from the injury, and if he would just *tell* Xander what the hell happened, it might begin to make sense to him.

"They are related." Statement of fact, and this is like playing twenty questions in the Twilight Zone.

Xander rubs a hand over his eyes. "You're reminding me of Mr. Cryptic himself, here."

If he'd still been watching Lindsey instead of trying to get a grip on his temper and his whirling thoughts, he might have picked up the change in tone. Indifference has fallen away from Lindsey in crisp pieces, leaving him sharp and edgey. "What did you say? Who?"

Hand dropping, Xander says, "Angel. You're acting..."

Blur of movement and a painful thud of his head meeting the floor, Lindsey's sitting on top of him. Eyes bright and aware in a way that is limited to drug-users and lunatics. Xander's heart trips over at the look of chaos that dances behind eyes midnight at the center and azure further out.

"Don't ever fucking compare me to him." Growled out, and if he hadn't seen Lindsey's mouth move, he would never have recognized his voice. There's something brand-new in that tone, and it has lots of sharp teeth.

"Ok, nerve strike." Xander pauses. Eyes the other man carefully. Lindsey shows no signs of moving from his position, and despite the situation, Xander is in no hurry to break off the contact. He can't read anything behind the wall of anger in those eyes, eyes that are boring into his own, but his body recognizes the weight and contour pressed against it.

Lindsey watches Xander lick his lips and think how best to phrase what is probably one of a million questions running rampant through his mind. //welcome to the party, xan, baby// He's not ready to move yet, rather ensconced on his knees, crouching. Although he thought he'd never be face to face with Xander again, his natural instinct is to get close, stay close, anger and resentment be damned, and straddling the boy like this is familiar. The part of him he believed had ceased to be when the boy exposed his infidelity coming to the fore in his mind, and he wants to hate himself for it. Wants to let it bleed away again, but he's too full of the conflicting need to have him here and also make him pay. The day to day fury that's been the driving force of his life since Angel took his hand, the only thing that has actually kept his heart beating, his lungs pulling air receding slightly. But it's a huge living thing inside of him, and it guards the places that are full of the ! hurt that Xander caused him.

"Tell me why the nameless person pisses you off so much if you won't tell me about the hand." Still determined to have his answers. Lindsey notes that this has not changed a bit in the boy. Studies the tearstains on his face and refuses to allow himself to take any kind of comfort or satisfaction at knowing they were shed for him, and not in pity.

"It's the same story." No more growling. Something inside of him that was wound tight and full of stuffing seems to be wide open, triggered by Xander's use of the name, the hated name. Lindsey feels clear again.

"Back up. What? Angel...Angel, not Angelus, did this to you?" Precisely spoken, very clear, Xander is being exceptionally certain to get his question across and receive the correct answer. No room for confusion.

"Yessss." Sigh, and Lindsey wants so very badly to drop his head and rest it on Xander's shoulder. The comfort is so close, but he can't take it. Won't take it.

"Let me up." Polite, but it's not a request. He's not going to fight, or try to flip Lindsey off, but Xander's got something to do, determination and goal evident in his voice.

"Why?" Flutter of panic's wings brushing the inside of Lindsey's head. //he's leaving again.//

"Just do it. Now." Calm but definitely getting ready to move, whether Lindsey lets him up or Xander has to make him do it. Hesitation, and Lindsey rolls off him. Lays on his back and watches Xander get to his feet. He walks to his duffle and unzips it, rummages for something that's apparently buried in the middle of clothes and other possessions. Finds it and slips it unseen into his back pocket, shirt coming down to cover whatever it might be before Lin can sit up and try to make a determination.

Xander walks back over to him, offers a hand and helps him to his feet. "I'll be back. Later. Stay here."

Doesn't wait for an answer, and closes the door behind him with a sound that's close enough to a slam to leave Lindsey wondering what the hell's on the boy's agenda.

==============================

Insistent knocking on the door and Angel rolls groggily off of the couch. Dim room but he knows it's still daytime. Glances at the clock to see it's almost time for Cordelia to get home from her dance class, and it could possibly even be her. He sighs. That girl forgets her keys at least twice a week, he's thinking about getting her a spare set and making sure there's always one in her purse. Shuffles over to the door, still feeling out of sorts and disoriented. Opens the door with the natural ease of someone who has little reason to fear anything that could be standing on the other side.

Familiar face behind a thick wave of rage and hatred, and the instinctive step back is the only thing that prevents the stake from piercing his heart. Xander wields it with a heavy hand, and has the full force of his pent up emotions behind the thrust. Silent fury, and when he sees the stake has missed, he takes a wild swing, fist to face and Angel goes down, head striking the floor.

Cordelia's voice over Xander's shoulder as he stands there, breath ragged, staring at Angel. The shrillness of it doesn't even make him blink.

"Oh my god! Is Angelus back? Did Giles send you here? Where's Buffy?" Too many questions, all tripping over themselves as they fall out of her mouth. She's shuffling and digging through her bag, he knows she's going for her stake.

Xander lifts a hand to silence her. "Cordelia, just turn and walk away."

She steps up closer then, peers past his body and "What? Like hell, I'm not gonna let him hurt you, Xander. Where's Buffy?" Looking down the hall, searching for a swish of movement to denote the Slayer's hiding place.

"She's not here. Go AWAY." Risks a glance away from Angel and fixes his eyes on Cordelia so she can see that he's not playing games here, that Buffy or no Buffy, the situation is not altered, and she should beat a hasty retreat.

"I think we covered that." Hands on her hips, and it's like high school all over again. He hasn't missed the stubborn streak in her and hasn't got the time or the patience to deal with it now.

"Cordeliaaaaaaa....." Angel moans out from the floor. His hands are wrapped around the stake, blood stained and slipping as he tries to determine how well lodged it is. Xander wants to step over, plant his boot on the few inches that are still visible and kick it, grind it in. May even have started to take the step, but Cordelia clutches him, thin fingers and short, sharp little nails digging into his skin. He can smell her sweat and feel her breath on his face.

"What's going on here, Xander? You look off your rocker. Why is Angelus calling out for me?" Worry line in her forehead, her face creased, and he notices absently that she looks older and spent. "How did he go bad again? I just saw him this morning!"

"Cordelia, please. It's not Angelus, and I suggest you leave, *again.*" Puts his hands on her shoulders, exerts just enough pressure to make her waver. She blinks at him, processing that important bit of information he fed her. Xander sees the light click on.

"You staked ANGEL? Are you insane?" She pushes past him, and Angel looks up at Xander. She kneels by Angel, touches the blood-soaked sweater and draws back. Xander hears her whisper "Angel, oh god, Angel" under her breath and wants to smack her when she looks back at him, scared, angry.

Cordelia helps Angel up into a sitting position, and he leans heavily on her. Hands clasped over the stake and Xander *knows* that has to hurt like a bitch. He's panting and sees the way Xander is eyeing the stake. Stops himself from attempting to pull it out right now, won't give the boy the satisfaction of hearing him scream, knows he's going to wail when Wes and Cordelia help him remove it.

Meets Xander's eyes. Gets the unnecessary respiration under control. "This is about the hand, isn't it? I should have killed him, then this would be over for all of us." Pause, and the left corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk, hidden from Cordelia as she kneels behind him and holds him up. All for Xander. "I'm sorry, Xander."

"What hand? The hand of God? What are you two talking about?" Both men ignore her, continue their personal battle that up until today neither of them had even been aware of.

"Fuck you, you self-righteous bastard. Next time, I won't miss the heart." Red spots in his vision, the headache that was threatening before hits him full blown. Turns to walk away. Hears Angel call out to him before he gets to the first step.

"Next time you won't get the chance."

=end part III=

Damnation IV: Devil May Care



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