Lindsey

Lindsey, a slashfic in five short parts

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: Raymond Kowalski/Lindsey McDonald, Benton Fraser/Renfield Turnbull, Angel/Wesley Wyndham-Pryce

Disclaimer: "Angel" and "due South," with their related characters and themes, do not belong to me. I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor. Also for Callum Keith Rennie and Christian Kane, my light and inspiration. Also for Chelle, who wrote "Lines," a Lindsey/Krycek piece that spawned this idea.

Wherein Ray meets Angel, demons, and...mmm...Lindsey...

Notice: "Angel" season one except the season finale, "To Shanshu in L.A." So they're still in the original offices, and Lindsey still has his hand. No Darla, thank you very much. Does it strike anyone else how similar Angel and Fraser are in certain respects? Probably not.

"Lindsey" Part One: A Few Explanations Are in Order

Ray Kowalski scratched the back of his head and waited. Waited. Waited. Like he wanted to stand here on some slimy dark street in the ugly part of L.A. like a mugger's treat. Fraser and Turnbull finally stopped talking with the cabbie about dentistry and stepped onto the curb with Ray, saying a polite good-bye to the driver as Diefenbaker joined them. The taxi sped off, probably in a hurry to get out of there and away from this part of town - - or just away from Canadians.

"Shall we go, then?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah, Fraser, we shall," Ray said. "Come on." He was pretty sure Fraser had picked up that line from Turnbull. Like he really needed the two of them rubbing off on each other - - okay, thanks for the mental image that came with that thought. They did enough of that stuff as it was. No, he just didn't need them...enacting, exacting, exercising...hell...exacerbating? "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray." Fraser was at his side in an instant, listening carefully.

God. It had already happened. Fraser was going to be dusting and dropping things any second now. "Never mind."

"All righty then."

He stopped short and looked into Fraser's eyes, narrowing his own. Fraser offered a polite, expectant smile. "You're doing it on purpose. You stupid Mountie, you're doing that on purpose!"

"Doing what, Ray?" Fraser asked, pleasant and blank.

"Don't make me smack you, Fraser. Stop it!"

"Stop what, Ray? Really, I'm sure that physical altercations-"

He cut off Fraser with an "rrgh" type of noise and turned to Turnbull. He poked Turnbull's chest with one finger and ordered, "Make him stop that! I am not running around L.A. with two of you! And you pull it off better than he does."

Turnbull smiled at him, politely removed his finger from Turnbull's chest, and said, "Shall we go, then?"

Ray quickly debated with himself the merits and drawbacks of committing double homicide. He was in L.A., and only the cab driver had seen them here. He could kill the Mounties, dump their bodies, and go back to Chicago claiming to have lost them in the airport. But what about Dief?

Dief was growling. Looking down the street, growling. Ray looked but saw nothing. Fraser knelt down by Dief and put a hand on the wolf; Dief toned it down a little and Fraser listened. Ray started down the sidewalk - - and found Dief in front of him suddenly, growling at him.

"Hey. If something's going on down there, I gotta go check it out," Ray said.

"You have no jurisdiction in this city, Ray," Fraser said quietly, coming up behind him.

Quietly, right, because whoever was upsetting Dief might hear them. "Tell me you're not about to go check it out yourself."

"I'm afraid that Diefenbaker would rather we didn't."

"Too bad." That, that was a crashing sound. Other sounds of violence.

"You're unarmed, Ray."

"Never stopped you." He stepped forward; Dief tried to keep him back, snarling. He was well aware that Dief might, for his own good, attack him to keep him safe. Maybe Dief was smarter than he was.

The noise was coming from that alleyway. Right on the far side of the building.

Fraser was kneeling down again, speaking to Dief carefully, exhibiting non-threatening behavior. Ray snatched the chance and ran for it, skidding to a stop right before the alley, then peering around the building.

A fight. A very violent, physical fight. About seven people. That one was female.

Dief was in front of him, growling at him to stay back or else. Fraser and Turnbull had come up behind him.

Okay, so now what? Run in there and yell "LAPD" and see what happened? Was this a gang thing or just insane violent people? They had weapons, it looked like, something in their hands, but-

-holy shit mother of all motherfuckers!

"Did you see that?" he asked, reaching back and twisting his fingers in Fraser's shirt, wide-eyed.

"Well, Ray, if you are referring-"

"I'm referring to the incredible exploding man, Fraser!"

Pause. "Yes, Ray, I'm afraid that I did see...that."

"Shit!" There went another one. What were those things? Little scifi particle zappers? Ray vowed never to return to L.A.

Oh, speaking of shit, Ray was neck-deep in it. They'd been too loud, probably, because one of those guys was coming for them, headed this way, and Ray had forgotten how to run for his life. Dief was all ready to attack - - good wolf, save the stupid humans - - but Ray didn't want Dief to get hurt or particled or whatever.

The female person was running up behind the guy coming for them. And it was dark, but the guy looked weird, Halloween mask weird, and the girl had one of those things in her hand, and she put on a last-minute burst of speed, and then the guy was just...gone. Vaporized. Dust.

She stared. "Wow."

Pretty much stole the word from Ray's mouth.

"It's about time!" she exclaimed. "I am sick of saving pretty blonde women!" She gave Ray the once-over. "Pretty blond men - - now that I can do!"

Over her shoulder, Ray saw that the violence was finished. One man helped up another, and then the two of them spotted her. They started in Ray's direction slowly.

Dief planted himself at the mouth of the alley and made it very clear that those two men were not coming any closer.

"Hey, Cujo," the woman said. She was young, and beautiful. Too young for Ray. He tried to see what she was holding. It looked like a hunk of wood. What?

"His name is Diefenbaker," Fraser said.

Ray took the hunk of wood from her hand, held it up, turned it over, peered at it.

"Can I have that back please?" she asked. "I'm sick of losing them and having to make new ones all of the time."

"It's wood," he told her.

"No kidding. There goes the dumb blond theory. Could you call off your dog?"

"He's a wolf," Ray told her. He handed the stake to Fraser as one of the two men approached. The other one was backing away slowly, and seemed to be the one Dief didn't like. When it became clear that the one hanging back respected Dief's objections, Dief's fury abated a little.

"Good evening," the approaching man said. Tall, slender, broad-shouldered, a little worse for the wear thanks to the fight; short hair darker than Fraser's, glasses, blue eyes? Cute. And...English?

"What's this do?" Ray asked, gesturing to the stake that Fraser was *not* licking.

"Not from around here, are you?" the young woman asked.

"Why doesn't Dief like your friend?" Ray asked.

"Ray," Fraser said. "Are you aware of any common lore wherein a man is stabbed through the chest with a wooden stake which, in effect, turns him into dust?"

"Stabbed through the heart, sure," Ray said, "but we're not talking Count Dracula here, Fraser."

"I've never actually met up with him," the man said. Definitely English.

"Right," the young woman said.

"Oh, I assure you, he's quite real," the man said.

"Did you happen to note the visage of the man who was on the verge of attacking us?" Fraser asked.

"Deformed and bumpy," Ray said.

"Inhuman, one might say. Demonic."

"You got a point there, Fraser?"

"Perhaps our friend from Oxford could explain it to us."

"So you're the strong silent type, you're the brains of the bunch, and you, hi, my name's Cordelia, I'm an actress," the young woman said, shaking Ray's hand with a brilliant, wide smile. She was beautiful.

"Ray," Ray said. "Fraser, Turnbull, Dief. What's with the turning people to dust?"

"They're not people," the man said. "They're vampires."

"Wesley," Cordelia said, and then gestured over her shoulder without taking her eyes from Ray. "That's Angel. If you want, we could go out for coffee, and I could tell you everything I know about vampires and demons. I-"

"Angel?" Ray repeated. "Angel. Fraser, where's that-"

Fraser held forth a white business card. "Would this be he?"

"You have our card!" Cordelia exclaimed, pleased. "That's us, Angel Investigations, we help the helpless. Can we help you? Our rates are very affordable."

"Fraser, get Dief to let me by." He could feel Fraser getting ready to protest; he turned quickly and said, "Fraser!" Fraser gave him a quick frown but went to speak with Dief. As soon as he could, Ray slipped down the alley. Turnbull was right behind him. That was probably a good thing. He went right up to the Angel guy, faster and faster, until he was right up in the guy's face. "Where the fuck is Maurice Delorando?!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm someone who came thousands of miles to get answers from you, and I'm not leaving until I get some!"

"I don't know who you are and I'm not going to tell you anything." His eyes flickered past Ray. "Hey. Watch where you're pointing that thing."

Ray looked over his shoulder to see Turnbull holding the piece of wood he'd handed Fraser. Turnbull's hand was raised, pointy end of wood towards them. "Perhaps you'd like to answer Ray's questions now, Angel," Turnbull said.

Ray wanted to ask where in hell this guy'd gotten the name "Angel," but he really wasn't one to criticize anyone else's name. "That scares you? It's a piece of wood."

"He's a vampire, Ray."

"Right."

"He is," said the English guy...Wesley?...coming up behind them. "I'll take that, thank you," and he pulled the piece of wood from Turnbull's hand. "Maurice Delorando? You knew him?"

Ray took a step back. Two. "Knew?" Past tense. Oh shit.

"He's...was...a friend of a friend," Turnbull said. "We were asked to find him."

"What happened?" Ray asked. "What happened? I know you had something to do with it. You killed him? You made him disappear into dust like these guys? You want me to turn you into dust, too?!"

"Ray." Fraser's hand on his back. "Is there somewhere that we could go to talk? A few explanations are in order. I believe that your office is nearby."

"Let's go," Angel said.

Angel led the way, Fraser and Wesley already exchanging information, Cordelia smiling at Ray, Turnbull convincing Dief that everything was okay. Ray was far from convinced that everything was okay. He was definitely, definitely, definitely never coming back to L.A. In fact, he wouldn't mind being on his way home right now.

He followed everyone into Angel Investigations and back into Angel's private office. They all stood grouped around the desk. "It's a little crowded," Angel said. "Cordelia, could you...?"

"Oh, I'm the expendable one?" she asked. "Why can't Wesley go? Oh, right, fine." She turned to Ray. "If you ever need help, you just call." She handed him a business card with her number on the back, glared at Angel, and left.

"Why don't you tell me what you're doing here first?" Angel asked.

"Friend of ours is...was...a friend of Delorando. He got a call from Del, real shaken up, not making much sense. Couple of days later, your business card shows up in the mail, no explanation, from Del. Our friend, Welsh, he can't get away. The three of us were heading out for a little trip, and Welsh asked us to stop in here on our way home."

Cordelia reappeared. "Angel, the evil troll's here." She ducked out again, taking a wide berth around the man who came to the doorway.

In an unprecedented display of trust, affection, and subservience, Dief dropped and rolled to his back, showing his stomach, practically begging to be petted.

Ray felt like doing the same thing.

Younger than Ray, and shorter. Thick, shaggy light brown hair in need of a haircut. Blue eyes, thick lashes, small nose, soft soft mouth. Well-tailored suit in the rumpled, just-got-off-of-work look. Gorgeous, gorgeous man, sending off all sorts of signals - - expensive, dangerous, touchable, harmless. Beneath the strong aura of extreme fuckability was a thin, hard edge of don't-fuck-with-me. Someone who overestimated himself but found himself underestimated.

"Lindsey," Angel said.

Immediately Ray's favorite name.

"You broke our deal," Lindsey said. "Do you want to explain to me what you were doing in that factory tonight?"

"Sight-seeing," Angel said. "We thought that it was an aglet plant. Imagine my surprise when I noticed the Jerwhal demons preparing their monthly sacrifice."

"We had a deal. I make you happy, you make me happy. I'm not happy, Angel. Neither are the senior partners."

"I'm very happy," Angel said. "Thank you, Lindsey."

"You think we can't touch you. Maybe you're right," Lindsey said. His eyes went to Wesley. "But you do have vulnerabilities."

Angel stepped between Wesley and Lindsey's gaze. "Get out."

"Should have kept your deal, Angel." Lindsey turned and left.

"Call Cordelia," Angel told Wesley.

"I'm sure she's fine," Wesley said, but lifted the receiver.

"Dief," Fraser said. The wolf was following Lindsey.

"He's deaf, Fraser. I'll get him." Ray found himself trotting after Lindsey, too, into the hallway.

Lindsey stopped and turned. "Your wolf?"

"Belongs to them," he said gesturing toward the office. "I'm Ray."

"Lindsey."

Ray found himself shaking Lindsey's hand. He forced himself to let go. "What's the deal with these people? Is this whole city nuts or just all of you?"

"How do you know Angel?"

"Someone disappeared. Turns out he's dead. Last person we know saw him was Angel. I just came to ask a few questions."

"Are you in law enforcement?"

"I'm a detective. Chicago PD." Lindsey's voice hinted at a Southern accent but never quite made it. It made Ray want to hear more. "How do you know Angel?" Might as well ask the guy his own questions.

"My firm has had a few run-ins with him."

A lawyer. "Sounds like you and Angel don't like each other. Is that an Angel Investigations v. your firm thing, or a personal thing?"

"A little of both. As long as you're interrogating me, am I allowed to put you on the stand?"

"Sorry. Just trying to get a handle on the situation."

"Occupational hazard. You'd better get back in there before Angel decides that I've done something nefarious. Nice to meet you, Ray."

"You too." He watched Lindsey go. Damn. Okay, okay, back to work. Angel, Del, Welsh. Right. "Come on, Dief."

Dief looked after Lindsey and whined.

"I know." Did he ever. "But we got work to do." He and Dief took lingering glances in Lindsey's direction, made small noises of intense disappointment, and turned with reluctance back to Angel's office.

"What did he say to you?" Angel asked when Ray returned.

"Said he's a lawyer. Said his firm's had 'a few run-ins' with you." Ray dropped into a chair. "What's that mean? Who is he? What's this deal you two have?"

"Lindsey McDonald works for Wolfram and Hart. They defend demons and other forms of evil. A few times Wolfram and Hart has gotten in my way, and I've gotten in theirs. Lindsey showed up here one night and asked for my help. I helped him. I offered him a way out, his firm offered him a promotion, and he took the promotion. The deal is none of your business."

"Someone needs to explain to me this stuff with demons and vampires and turning people to dust and ritual sacrifice."

"Wesley?" Angel asked.

Wesley explained. Ray went into detective interrogation mode. Wesley didn't so much as falter.

Eventually, Ray realized that everyone was staring, the two of them standing in the middle of the room. "What?"

Three smiles.

"Look. It's late," Ray said, then glanced at the clock. "Okay, it's early. We have hotel reservations. We'll come back later - - after sunset - - and you can explain what happened to Del."

Angel nodded.

"Okay. Taxis come around here?"

"I'll call one for you," Wesley offered.

Ray had a lot to think about now. For once, Fraser and Turnbull were quiet. When they reached the hotel, and left the elevator to go to their rooms, Fraser said, "Ray."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure that this is a lot to absorb. If you'd like to talk-"

"It's okay, Fraser." He smiled. "You just enjoy your honeymoon." He winked at Turnbull and let himself into his room.

First he made sure that his door and windows were locked up tightly. He did not need some weird demon coming in to eat him. Then he took a long, hot shower. Then he brushed his teeth and went to bed and ruined his shower by spilling semen all over himself, jerking off, thinking about Lindsey McDonald.

"Lindsey" Part Two: I'm the Bait

Ray wakened to a sunfilled room. He took another shower, still feeling L.A.-demon-icky, and while he was in there he jerked off again. Then he dressed and went to knock on the door next to his.

He waited.

The door opened. "Ray. Good afternoon to you."

"Hey, Turnbull. I'm going to go out, get something to eat, see what L.A. looks like in the daytime. You want to meet up back here at seven, head over to Angel's?"

"If you'd like-"

"You're on your honeymoon, Turnbull. Stay here and be good to Fraser. Hey, let me borrow Dief?"

"Well, thank you kindly, Ray. Dief, would you like to go out with Ray? All right then." Dief stepped into the hallway. "See you at seven, Ray."

"Hey, tell Fraser to tone down the love bites, or we'll think the vampires got to you." He flashed a grin and headed for the elevator.

First Ray took Dief off for a bathroom break. Then they stopped off at a hotdog vendor and ate. Then Ray walked from phone booth to phone booth looking for an intact phone book.

There. Wolfram and Hart.

And there. City map.

Damn.

Okay. Cabs were expensive, and he'd done that plenty already. Dief was always good for a walk. And he'd spent a few years running around with Fraser, not to mention trekking all over the Northwest Territories. He could do this.

"Hey, Dief. You want to go see Lindsey?"

That was a yes.

Wolfram and Hart didn't look like the lair of evil. It looked like any other business building. Ray considered asking Dief to stay outside, but if they let demons in, why not wolves? He entered.

And was stopped by a security guard. "You are?"

"Ray."

Clipboard. "You're not registered."

"I'm here to see Lindsey McDonald."

"Mr. McDonald is in court today."

"I'll wait."

"You'll wait outside."

"Angel told me you guys were-"

"You're from Angel?"

"He doesn't know I'm here."

"Wait right there." Security guy reached for a phone, dialed, waited. "There's a man here who claims to know Angel. Yes, sir." Glance at the wolf. "Yes, sir." Eyes flickering over Ray. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir." He hung up and motioned to another guard. "Take him up to Mr. McDonald's office."

Ray tossed the first guard a non-smile. "Thank you kindly. Come on, Dief, let's go see Lindsey."

The elevator ride was uneventful. This firm had a lot of money, obviously. Defending demons must be lucrative. Who'd've figured? Down the hallway, knock on the door. Lindsey's voice, "Come in." The guard opened the door for Ray, who walked in with Dief.

Lindsey, seated behind his desk, smiled, rising. "Ray."

Ray reached over the desk and shook Lindsey's offered hand while Dief trotted behind the desk and sat by Lindsey's feet. "Lindsey. Nice place."

"Thanks. Have a seat."

"That promotion really paid off," Ray said as he sat.

"Angel told you." Lindsey sat, too, behind his desk.

Ray glanced over his shoulder at the security guard. "Can I help you?"

Lindsey made an "it's okay" motion; the guard nodded and left, closing the door. "Did you want something?"

"A few answers."

"To which questions?"

"Why you're here. Why this firm does what it does. What deal you and Angel have."

"I'm very good at what I do. It comes naturally to me, and it pays well. I could have real influence someday. The firm..." Lindsey smiled. "The senior partners are interested in protection. For themselves. In the meantime, they can make money defending others."

"It's all about power and money."

"What isn't?"

"I'm not."

"Some might say that's admirable."

"You wouldn't?"

"I have an errand to run. Walk me to my car."

Ray narrowed his eyes, but followed. When they got to Lindsey's car in the parking lot, Lindsey said, "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

"Yeah," Ray said, and Lindsey let Dief into the backseat. So he got in the passenger seat, and Lindsey got in beside him. Lindsey was close now, very close, in the confines of the Mercedes. Ray had no idea where they were going. They drove for about half an hour, the only sounds coming from the Benny Goodman CD Lindsey started. They were moving west, and Lindsey parked near the ocean. Lindsey got out and let out Dief, so Ray got out, too, and walked beside Lindsey down along the boardwalk.

Lindsey stopped walking and looked down to the beach. "I know that my office is bugged. The car is, too."

"By Wolfram and Hart?"

"Yes. For all I know, my shoes are bugged. I know that the phone line in my apartment is, and they read my e-mail. They monitor my every move. If there's surveillance equipment in my apartment, I haven't found it, but I'm sure that it's there. If it wasn't there before my promotion, it's there now."

"The higher up you go, the more power you gain, the more information you have," Ray guessed.

Lindsey nodded, not looking at him, still watching the beach. "You know that Angel's a vampire."

"Not standard-issue. Wesley said Angel has a soul. He was cursed."

"They didn't tell you anything else?"

"No."

"His soul wasn't permanent. If he ever gained a moment of pure, true happiness, he would lose it. That's the curse; that he has a soul so he can feel the torment and anguish of a million regrets, but he'll never be happy."

"Pretty much sucks. Why hasn't he lost his soul? How does he avoid being happy?"

"He did lose it, once. It's a long story, and it was before he came to L.A. He got his soul back again, but he learned that making love with the love of his life, or the love of his unlife, makes him too happy."

"So no sex."

"No sex with someone he loves. True happiness isn't reached by orgasm alone."

"Yeah." He'd had a time or two when sex actually made him feel worse.

"Wolfram and Hart, due to our unique clientele, has a lot of information on demonology and sorcery and spellcasting. I did a little research and found a way to anchor Angel's soul permanently, so that even a moment of true happiness can't dislodge it."

"And in return?"

"He had to leave us alone. The firm's tired of his nuisance. They want him gone, and they'll do what they need to do. I hoped that if we could make a deal, he'd back off and stop being a threat."

"Why? Why do you care?"

"L.A. needs him. He can save as many souls as he wants in this city, just not the ones that Wolfram and Hart needs."

"So you'll be evil, and he'll be good, and you'll stay out of each other's way."

"I gave him the spell, and now he can be as happy as he wants, and he's still fucking us over."

"Did he hook up with the love of his life?"

Lindsey's lips quirked. "I believe you've met Wesley."

Ray laughed. He couldn't help it. "You're kidding!" He remembered something. "That's why you were threatening him last night."

"We'll hit Cordelia first. Then Wesley. If Angel still doesn't back down - - and he won't - - we'll kill him."

"Can't you do something?!"

"I tried. It's up to Angel. He knows what he's doing, he knows what he's risking, and he won't stop."

"Stop being good? Stop trying to save people?"

"You never give up, do you?" Lindsey turned, looked at him. "You're out there every day in Chicago, just like Angel. Fighting and fighting."

"I'm not a quitter."

"It's called pragmatism."

"It's called pessimism and giving up and being a coward."

Lindsey took a step back in the direction of the car. "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

"Wait." Lindsey stopped, looked up at him. "Have you heard of Maurice Delorando?"

Lindsey's brow furrowed. "Maurice Delorando."

"Everybody called him Del."

Lindsey's face cleared; he started off again. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Ray asked, catching up to him.

"Give me a dollar."

"Why?"

"Retainer."

"I don't need a lawyer."

"You want me to help you or not?"

"I'm not paying you for it."

Lindsey let Dief into the car. "If you want my help, I know whom we can ask, but you'll need my legal services."

Ray pulled out his wallet, fished out a dollar, got in the car and handed over his money.

"Thanks." Lindsey put it in his pocket and pulled on his seatbelt. "I know, most cops don't like lawyers, but try to put up with me. Unless you don't have a professional hatred of lawyers?"

"I married one."

Lindsey laughed and started the car. "Tell me everything you know about Maurice Delorando."

"Everything?"

"I'm trying to help you, Ray. Do you have a last name?"

"Kowalski. Stanley Raymond Kowalski."

"Have you forgiven your parents?"

"Almost."

When Lindsey parked the car, Ray got out and frowned. "Police station?"

"He'll stay out here?" Lindsey asked Ray at the front doors.

Ray met Dief's eyes. "Stay here. I mean it. I'll give you doughnuts later." Dief sat. "Thanks."

"Follow my lead," Lindsey told Ray, and entered. Ray followed Lindsey, who seemed to know just where they were headed. They stopped in front of a blonde woman's desk. "Detective Lockley."

She looked up at them. "Mr. McDonald." She didn't like Lindsey. Her eyes skipped over to Ray. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Detective Ray Kowalski, Chicago PD. His lieutenant's asked him to come investigate the disappearance of one Maurice Delorando."

"Delorando," she repeated. They had her attention now. "Chicago PD. Which department?"

"Twenty-seventh," Lindsey said.

"Have a seat," she offered, rising slowly. "I'll go see what I can do for you." She left them standing there.

"She's going to have you in an interrogation room in another minute," Lindsey told Ray softly. "I'll get you out, but while you're in there, I'll get all of the information you'll ever need."

"I'm the bait. The distraction."

"She's good. But you're better."

"You don't know that."

"I know a lot about you."

Before Ray could ask about that claim, Detective Lockley returned. And Ray found himself in an interrogation room.
Half an hour later he was back in the parking lot, Lindsey at his side, and he could feel Kate Lockley's eyes burning hatred at him through brick. Lindsey's hand came to his back, and Lindsey was warm and soft and smelled good, and he wanted...wanted...wanted badly.

"You were great," Lindsey said, steering him towards the car, Dief following. "And I got everything they have on Delorando."

"Who are you?"

"We've covered that," Lindsey said, walking around to the driver's side, letting in Dief.

Ray looked across the hood. "I can't figure out which side you're on."

"My side. The only side there is. Are you going to get in before they notice what's missing?"

He got in, and locked the door, and pulled on his seatbelt. And Lindsey got in beside him and drove them away from the station. And they'd just stolen official police records, an open case.

Let's see.

First, he was going with his best friend to be best man at a wedding.

Then, he was supposed to stop off for a day on the way home from the wedding to check up on his boss's friend.

Then he was meeting vampires and running around town with a demon defender and he just knew that Lockley was calling Welsh right this very second and-

"Where are we?"

"My place."

-and he was at Lindsey's place.

Lindsey. Lindsey, who made him want to roll over like an obedient pet for a belly scratch. Lindsey was a bad evil man, and he wanted to slide his hands through that thick hair and kiss those soft-soft lips. He wanted to do things with Lindsey, to Lindsey, that...that he... God this was so, so wrong.

Lindsey had a nice apartment. Wide and clean and expensive. Lindsey put Ray on the soft leather sofa with Delorando's case file and took Dief into the kitchen. Then Lindsey was back, offering him a beer and a Chinese carry-out container of cold pork fried rice. Delicious. They read over the file, both of them.

"Lots of reading between the lines to be done," Ray said.

"He knew he was in danger, if he called your lieutenant. He must have gone to Angel for help. Or knew that Angel could help him and wanted your lieutenant to alert Angel - - he was afraid to ask himself."

"Why would he be afraid?"

"He might have been in hiding. Angel's high-profile now, in the right circles."

"Angel knew about him. Did they meet, or did Angel hear about him?"

Lindsey shook his head, not sure yet. "Whatever was after him, it was a demon, not a vampire. This autopsy report, that's not human. But Delorando was."

"Demons were after Del? Why?"

"Look at this. Unidentified substance around some of the wounds. I can find out what this is."

"How?"

"Records at the firm. See, the coroner did a breakdown of it. I can find out which demons secrete a similar substance."

"So demon goop isn't standard?"

"Different demons, different goop," Lindsey told him.

Ray glanced at Lindsey's watch. "Shit. I have to go. I'm meeting Fraser and Turnbull back at the hotel at seven. We're going to see Angel - - and I'm going to find out what he knows about Delorando."

"I'll give you a ride."

"Are you keeping this?" he asked as he put the file back together.

"For now. Tampering with an ongoing investigation bothers you? Ray, whoever killed Delorando wasn't human. Lockley's never going to solve this case. You might. Or you could just ask Angel, and he'll probably have the entire story for you, and you'll find out that you've wasted this entire day."

Not wasted. Time spent with Lindsey was not wasted. Too short, confusing, frustrating, not wasted. He dragged Dief away from Lindsey's danishes and left the apartment.

Lindsey stopped before the hotel, and the three of them got out of the car. Something in the back of his brain registered Fraser and Turnbull standing by the hotel entrance. He came around to the driver's side, and he looked at Lindsey. Looked hard.

"When are you going back to Chicago?"

"Plane leaves tomorrow afternoon. Three."

Lindsey smiled. It was Lindsey's pleased, calculating, my-plan-is-working-perfectly smile. It was a wicked smile. It made Ray want to...to...

Soft, soft mouth.

"I thought you were married," Lindsey said, ducking away from him after the first instant.

"Divorced. Years ago."

"It's seven o'clock. You have an appointment to keep." Lindsey got into his black Mercedes and drove away, away from the hotel, away from Ray.

"Ray."

"I don't wanna hear it, Fraser." There went the car. Bye-bye, car. Bye-bye, Lindsey.

"Ray, you're crying." Fraser sounded alarmed.

"Allergies. L.A. smog. C'mon, Fraser. Can't keep the vampire unlicensed private investigator waiting."

"Ray, that was Lindsey McDonald."

"Who?"

"Lindsey McDonald."

Exactly. Who was Lindsey McDonald? A demon defender who gave an Angel a soul. Someone who didn't know Ray at all but spent all day getting close to him, let him in from the start, then drove away without so much as a good-bye.

And how close would they have gotten if Lindsey hadn't thought that he was married?

Ray felt Fraser's disapproval all through the cab ride. They took the cab because they didn't feel safe walking around this strange demon-infested city at night. Fraser liked Angel, trusted Angel, and believed that Lindsey was a bad, evil, manipulative man. Ray couldn't disagree.

Looks were deceiving. And Lindsey looked beautiful, beautiful but harmless. Charming without being threatening. Gorgeous and sexy without any unpleasant edges. Lindsey must be a killer in the courtroom. How could a jury resist? Ray couldn't, and he'd been warned beforehand.

When they got to Angel Investigations, there was a note for them on the door. Angel and his faithful assistants were off saving the world or something, and they were supposed to wait. While they waited, Fraser tried to ask Ray about Lindsey, so Ray asked Fraser how Fraser's day had been. He managed to get Fraser flustered enough to stop talking. Then Angel and Co. returned, and everyone trooped into the office. Cordelia cleaned up a scrape on Wesley's shoulder, while Angel hovered.

"He's all right, Angel," Cordelia said. "We've all had worse."

"Maybe you should go to a hospital."

"He's not going to the hospital."

"You should get stitches."

"He doesn't need stitches."

"It might scar."

"It won't scar."

"It might."

"Can't have any little imperfections on your favorite sex toy, can we? Angel, it won't scar. Wesley is fine. Sit down and entertain your guests." She patted the bandage. "All better."

"Thank you, Cordelia," Wesley said, rising from his seat on the edge of her desk. He reached for his shirt.

"Here, let me help," Angel said.

"Wesley can put on his own clothes, Angel," Cordelia said. "Your job is to take them off again. Speaking of clothes, I have demon gunk all over my skirt. I'll call you if I get a vision. Get them coffee or something." She gathered up her purse and things and left. Wesley finished easing himself into his shirt.

"Coffee," Angel said. "I'll get coffee."

"What's with him?" Ray asked Wesley.

"Angel has varying moods. They're all obsessive." Wesley pushed a button on the answering machine.

"Angel. It's Kate. Lindsey McDonald showed up today and now the Delorando case file is missing. He had an accomplice, a detective named Ray Kowalski from Chicago. I'm calling his precinct to find out what's going on."

Everyone was staring at Ray.

"I knew she'd call Welsh," Ray said.

"What were you doing with him?" Angel asked.

"Not what I wanted to be doing with him," Ray said. "Look, he's working for the black hats. I can take care of myself. He helped me out. I don't trust him. Why don't you tell me what you know about Delorando, and why Lockley's calling you."

"Two and a half weeks ago. Cordelia had a vision of a dead man. I went to help him, but on the way I ran across two Halmer demons. By the time I made it there, he was dead. Just the way she'd seen him. Obviously attacked by a demon. I called Kate."

"You two work together."

"We cooperate when pushed. What were you doing with Lindsey?"

"You don't have any idea what happened to Delorando?"

"No."

"You think those two demons had anything to do with it?"

"They're dead now, so we can't ask. I think it was coincidence. The way he was killed, that's not their style. What were you doing with Lindsey?"

"I got you and Wesley's side of the story of L.A. and demons. I wanted a second perspective."

"He's a manipulative bastard."

"You're not?"

"I may be a vampire, but he is evil."

"You both have a soul, don't you?"

"I know I have one."

"He gave it to you."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "He told you."

"Why didn't you? Ashamed?"

"That's private."

"He gave you the whole world on a fucking platter. You're upset about it because you owe him."

"I don't owe him."

"You owe him everything. Including your soul. You're going to get yourself killed, and you're going to get Wesley killed, and you're going to get Cordelia killed. You all know it. You're living on borrowed time right now, all of you."

"What would you have him do instead?" Wesley asked. "Give up? Turn tail and run?"

"No. I'd do the same thing. You can't stop. You're fighting to save other people's souls, to help the hopeless, all of that. If you won't stop, you have to stop Wolfram and Hart."

"That's harder than it looks," Angel said.

"We have until tomorrow afternoon," Ray said. "Better get busy. You call Cordelia, ask her to come back here. I'll be right back." He walked out of the office and over two blocks to a pay phone. If the firm was monitoring Lindsey's calls, it wouldn't do to call directly from Angel's office. Although this was probably still too close. After some run-around with the receptionist, he got through to Lindsey's office.

"Lindsey McDonald."

"It's Ray."

"How are you, Detective?"

"Remember that guy I was going to go see tonight?"

"Yes. How is Gabriel?"

Gabriel. Oh. Right. "We're planning a surprise party. Can you stop by his place?"

"I might be persuaded."

"Give me a minute alone with you in person and I'll be real persuading."

Lindsey hung up on him. Shit. He went back to Angel Investigations. Four tall, earnest men were grouped around blueprints spread over Angel's desk. He could do the tall thing and the earnest thing, too. "Wolfram and Hart?"

"I broke in once, I can do it again," Angel said.

"You had Lindsey's help last time," Wesley said.

"This part of that thing when he came to you for help but went for the promotion?" Ray asked.

"Yes," Angel said shortly.

"I was there earlier today," Ray said. "And they've never seen Fraser or Turnbull. Think we could get in? And what are we doing once we're in?"

"Attacking the building itself is a good idea, but won't necessarily bring down the firm," Wesley said. "We need to go for...Wolfram and Hart."

"The actual people? The senior partners?" Ray asked.

"Are they people?" Fraser asked.

"I doubt it," Angel said.

"Would Lindsey know?" Fraser asked.

"I think so," Ray said. "Sounds like he's pretty much into knowing everything, whether he's supposed to or not."

"Knowledge is power," Wesley said. "Lindsey likes power."

"Why?" Ray asked.

"Power is money, position, status. He thinks that those will bring him security."

"Lindsey has a poor-me sob story," Angel said. "You left here to call him, didn't you?"

"I don't know if he's coming," Ray said.

"You can't trust him. Even if he does come-"

"I don't trust him," Ray said. He was lying. Or was he? He trusted Lindsey, but he knew that he shouldn't. Didn't that knowledge mean that he didn't trust Lindsey?

The five of them sat around and discussed vague plans. Cordelia arrived. Ray really would have liked to get to know these people better. They were brave and interesting and strong, very strong. They had that inner strength that Ray always admired, that the people in Ray's life had.

Dief trotted to the door expectantly. Lindsey came to the doorway. "You called?"

"We're going to take down Wolfram and Hart. Want to help?" Ray asked.

"You can't take down the firm."

"We're starting at the top and working our way down. We're a little pushed for time, since we're leaving at three. We could use your help. We don't even know who or what Wolfram and Hart are."

"Can I see you alone for a minute?"

"Sure." Ray stood easily and followed Lindsey outside, to the sidewalk. Dief followed, so they weren't exactly alone. He faced Lindsey and waited.

"You want me to help complete strangers and my immortal enemy to bring down the people who've given me everything I have."

"Yes."

"It won't work. You'll all fail and I'll be tortured and killed."

"I know."

"Not one of us will make it out alive. If someone does, he'll wish that he hadn't."

"I know."

"And you want me to help you."

"Yes."

"And in return?"

"You can come with me to Chicago and give me my perfect happiness."

Lindsey walked into the building again. Ray and Dief followed.

Lindsey, Ray, Angel, and Fraser standing together. Turnbull, Wesley, Cordelia, and Dief standing around them. Lindsey's tie was loose, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair just starting to fall into his face. He told them everything that he knew. Ray the detective, Wesley the scholar, and Fraser the both questioned him thoroughly. Then the seven of them began to plan.

Ray. Fraser, Turnbull, Dief. Lindsey. Angel, Wesley, Cordelia, Kate Lockley, and a young black guy named Gunn leading his own troops. Against demons, lawyers, and one hell of a good security system.

"We're not going to make our flight," Ray muttered. "Welsh is going to kick my ass."

"Perhaps if you explained the situation to him, Ray," Fraser suggested.

"We still don't know what happened to Del," Ray said.

"The substance around his wounds was secreted from his body," Lindsey said. "He was at least half Kowal'a demon."

"What?" Ray asked.

"What makes you say so?" Fraser asked.

"Wesley can probably explain it better," Lindsey said.

"Kowal'a," Wesley said. "Was it green and gritty?"

"According to the autopsy reports," Lindsey said.

"Then that would be native to the body, to Maurice Delorando."

"You're saying that Welsh's friend was a demon? And Welsh just never noticed?"

"Kowal'a often pass for human," Wesley said. "Of course. There was a Kowal'a hunter in town recently."

"There was?" Angel asked.

"Demon or human?" Ray asked.

"Human. Quite infamous. He targeted the Kowal'a because it offended him that a demon could walk around as a person."

"Where can I find him?"

"The morgue."

"So he kills Del, and someone or something kills him, and I have to go back and tell Welsh? How do I explain to him that his friend's a demon? And if I keep that part a secret, how do I explain the rest?"

"We'll find a way to break the news," Fraser said gently. "He'll understand, Ray."

First, they had to take down Wolfram & Hart without dying and make it back to Chicago.

"Lindsey" Part Three: The Circumstances of Our Trip

Ray was as good a shot with a crossbow as he was with a gun. Some lawyers really were demons in disguise. Dief was one of the bravest creatures Ray'd ever known. All of the charms and protective spells in the world were great, but nothing compared to the guardianship of a fiercely protective lover. The last few sexist thoughts in Ray's head had been banished. The claws of a Beribekan demon could do serious damage to human flesh.

"Fraser?"

"I'm here, Ray."

"Missed our flight."

"Yes, Ray. We have tickets for tomorrow night instead. You have time to rest."

"Gotta call Welsh."

"I've spoken with him, Ray. I did my best to explain to him the circumstances of our trip and what happened to his friend."

"How's Dief?"

"He'll be fine."

"Cordelia?"

"She's resting. You should rest too, Ray."

"Turnbull?"

"He's fine, Ray. Everyone's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"It hurts."

"The poison should work itself out of your system soon."

"Hate hospitals."

"I know."

"Smells."

"I know."

"I miss Lindsey."

"I know."

"He's not coming back, is he?"

"I don't know, Ray."

"You go back to Turnbull's room. I'm okay here."

"Ray-"

"Go ahead, Fraser. You should be with him. I'll just sleep."

"All right, Ray."

The door closed. Ray closed his eyes.

"Lindsey" Part Four: Playing with His Pen

They had a little reunion good-bye party there in the airport lounge. Ray hugged Cordelia gingerly, mindful of her injuries, and shook Kate's hand firmly, one cop to another. He said good-bye to Gunn, still sorry about the deaths of two of Gunn's friends. He shook hands with a vampire for the first time in his life, wondering if it would be the last time. He hugged Wesley. He liked Wesley.

Since he was hurt, to put it mildly, Ray was travelling first class for the first time in his life. It had been Fraser's idea, not that he minded. And for some mysterious reason, their tickets were cheaper than standard first-class fare, just because he was injured. Medical something-or-other. Fraser's fault, no doubt.

Everyone promised to visit. Ray liked these people, their strength, their beauty that went far beyond the surface - - although their surfaces were, um, not bad. He wanted to come back, see them again, learn more about them and their fight. And he wanted to show them around Chicago - - not that there was much to show in Chicago.

Their flight was called. Passengers began to board. One final round of good-byes.

Ray had a window seat, the seat to his right vacant, Fraser and Turnbull directly in front of him. Fraser'd gotten him two seats so that he could relax and rest and stretch out or something like that. Ray was just grateful that he wouldn't have to sit beside some stranger - - at this point, he was looking at everyone suspiciously, wondering, "Demon? Half-demon? Vampire with sunblock?" He still thought that their pilot looked a little inhuman, but Fraser said that he was being ridiculous.

Back in Chicago, he and Welsh had a little talk. Whether he was put on desk duty because of his injuried or because Welsh thought that he was psycho, he wasn't sure.

But he hated desk duty. Paperwork? He wanted to be out there doing something. He felt itchy and restless. He knew that he was being irritable, knew that everybody was avoiding him, but he didn't want to sit there at his desk playing with his pen and thinking about Lindsey. Especially when he spent every night playing with his dick and thinking about Lindsey.

Fraser visited him, stopped by during the day to see how bad his attitude had gotten. Fraser knew that he missed Lindsey, and that was a little comforting, anyway. It wasn't like he could tell Dewey that he was being short-tempered not just because his stitches itched but because he'd fallen hard for an arrogant evil short lawyer.

Welsh finally let him get off of his ass and onto the streets again. He grabbed Fraser and headed out for his car, off to go round up some family members for questioning. In the parking lot, he stopped short, one hand closing on Fraser's forearm. He needed his glasses. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray."

"You see what I see?"

"I see Lindsey McDonald, Ray, if that's what you-"

"Hell yes." He started forward, eyes wide, knowing that he was grinning like a complete idiot. Lindsey was standing by the GTO, looking relaxed.

"Ray." Lindsey offered a hand, so he shook it. "It's good to see you again."

"Good to see you," he returned, not letting go.

"Constable Fraser."

"Mr. McDonald."

"What are you doing here?" Ray asked.

"I've come to fulfill my part of the deal."

"Deal?" Fraser asked.

"I helped you to take down Wolfram & Hart. In return, I'm to come to Chicago and make Ray happy."

"This deal sounds rather one-sided," Fraser said.

"I think that Ray will make it up to me. He's destroyed my former place of employment, so he'll help me to get a new job. And since I'm in Chicago for his sake, he can provide me with a place to live."

"That sounds reasonable," Fraser said.

"You're staying?" Ray asked.

"I'm staying with you," Lindsey said.

"Lindsey" Part Five: Sex!

Lindsey. In his home. Ray didn't know what to do.

Well, first off, he'd need to get a bigger place. His clutter was now overcluttered by Lindsey's belongings, which seemed mostly to be boxes of books.

He had questions. He wanted to know where Lindsey had been. Why Lindsey was here. How long Lindsey would stay. What to ask first?

"You're all right?"

Heat rushed him at the sensation of Lindsey's fingertips on his skin. "Yeah. Got out the poison. Now it's just regular old cuts. It'll be okay."

"Having second thoughts?"

"You know I'm not."

Lindsey smiled. "I know."

Soft, soft mouth. Oh. Soft, soft, tongue. Yes. Unknot the tie, drop it. Buttons, too many buttons.

"Slow down," Lindsey murmured, stroking up his spine through the cotton of his shirt. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not?"

"Only if you kick me out."

"I won't."

"I know."

"Do we need condoms?"

"I have some. But I don't have anything."

"Neither do I. Do we have to use them?"

"Not if you don't want to." Slow kiss, tasting Lindsey, tasting Lindsey tasting him. "You do have lube."

"Yeah."

"You've never been with a man, have you?"

He actually blushed, and hated himself for it. "No."

Lindsey smiled. "You can fuck me first, then."

Oh. God. Ray half-pushed, half-dragged Lindsey to the bedroom. He heard a wicked chuckle and then Lindsey licked his ear. He found Lindsey's mouth again, trying to undress the two of them without breaking the kiss. He succeeded, for the most part, and then they were naked, and Lindsey had the softest skin he'd ever felt, and he wasn't used to all of this muscle, and planes instead of curves, and usually for sex he had the only cock in the room. But Lindsey had sensitive little nipples and the cutest ass he'd ever had the privilege to grope and damn that was one pretty cock.

Lindsey coached him through the lube-and-stretch process, which was pretty simple but, judging from Lindsey's reactions, felt damned good. Felt good to do it, too, that tight ass clamped down and hot on his fingers. He'd never known that guys could do it face-to-face, either. He almost came all over Lindsey and ruined the whole show, just stroking Lindsey from the inside and kissing Lindsey's mouth and having Lindsey in his bed, Lindsey was here with him, and his fantasies had been pretty wild but they'd never gotten him here.

When he could drag his eyes away from Lindsey's face, and away from the explicit image of his wet fingers disappearing up inside Lindsey's body, he kept staring at Lindsey's cock. So smooth, with that even thick shaft and that flared head. Ray had never given a blow job in his life, but he wanted to taste Lindsey, to see what that would feel like throbbing in his mouth. And that made him think about Lindsey giving him a blow job. Getting his cock in that hot soft mouth? Oh yeah...

His pre-cum was pouring out like the main event. He needed to focus or he'd never make it. Lindsey's fingers stroked down his stomach while Lindsey's knees propped up on his shoulders. Damn, he hoped that he was that flexible when their roles were reversed. And their roles would be reversed. He wanted Lindsey to make him make those hot, happy, aching sounds Lindsey had made when he'd - - stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, he couldn't come yet.

He rested his cockhead against that slick little hole. Lindsey was breathing way too carefully for that calm to be normal. "You okay?"

"I've wanted this since I first saw you."

His hips bucked forward in semi-automatic response to that admission, a silent "me too." That first meeting, that first moment, seeing Lindsey walk in, maybe it wasn't love at first sight, but it was desire at first sight, lust at first sight, wanting Lindsey, wanting to know Lindsey, wanting more and more and more and oh hell yeah.

Tight, way too tight, and hot, so good, why didn't people tell him these things? If he'd known how this would feel he would've found himself a boyfriend decades ago. Boyfriend. Was Lindsey his boyfriend? Lover? Live-in person? The guy he was in love with who just might stay?

It was going to be over too soon, he wanted more, no, it had to last. He gritted his teeth and kept going, forcing himself through it, not willing to give in just yet. Lindsey was moving beneath him, a delicious, rhythmic undulation, ever-so-quietly moaning his name. His name. Lindsey was here with him, being made love to by him, in his bed and his home and his city, his his his.

Balancing himself on one hand, he stroked down Lindsey's chest, down, to Lindsey's cock. It jumped in his hand, hard and hot and alive, and as he kept pumping his hips he pumped Lindsey's cock. Lindsey's moans were a little louder now, and not quite his name anymore. And then Lindsey was coming, hot white spurts, and he watched, the pulses of semen, the shudder of Lindsey's body, the arch of Lindsey's throat. He came too, then, had to come, let himself, deep inside Lindsey.

There were a few minutes of catching their breath, separating, slipping off to the bathroom to get cleaned up a little. Then they were back together, and Lindsey's kisses were full and deep, Lindsey's body something to be treasured and explored. He tucked Lindsey's hair behind one ear and said, softly, "I love you, Lindsey." He wasn't afraid to say it. He wanted to say it.

Smile. Pretty blue eyes. "I know."

"You love me?"

Lindsey kissed him. Kissed him. Stroked his cock with fingers, then tongue. Enveloped his need in soft, wet heat, not a hint of teeth, and he'd never - - oh god - - oh - - had anybody - - yes - - give it to him quite like this and - - oohhh - - either that was natural talent or Lindsey was a whore, and Ray suspected both. Jesus.

And then he had his turn, rolling Lindsey over and slithering down and looking close up at beautiful Lindsey's beautiful cock. And maybe that was the most amateur blow job in the world, but it felt good to him, and at least Lindsey came.

They curled up together. Lindsey was a snuggler, too. Unexpected but definitely a bonus. He pet Lindsey, cherishing the smooth skin under his fingers, waiting to fall asleep.

"Yeah, Ray. I love you."

matthew@matthewtime.com
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