Fred puts a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him." She says the words so often that he thinks they've lost their meaning and turned into a chant or a prayer for her. "Somehow."

He sometimes worries that they will. If Justine talks to someone and word gets to Fred or Gunn, Angel could be freed, and his father's death will once more be unavenged. Connor can't let that happen. He turns and captures Fred's arms, looks in her eyes before pressing his mouth against hers. She tastes like milk and sugar, and their tongues touch before she breaks away, hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"Connor..." Eyes wide with shock, she backs away.

"I'm sorry." He's not. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"Are you going to tell Gunn?"

She shakes her head. "Connor, you've got to promise me you'll never do something like that again. It's wrong."

"It won't happen again, I promise."

Fred nods and goes back into the hotel. Connor sits on a stone bench and listens to the sounds of night insects and passing cars. It won't happen again because he doesn't need it to. Once is enough to keep Fred nervous and on edge, enough to keep Gunn wondering what it is she's not telling him. Once is enough to distract them both while Connor cleans up loose ends and keeps his promise to his father from becoming just another lie.

(fin)

Ah, renewed my loathing of Connor. Brrrrr.

Thanks for posting that. Good stuff.

LJ, your Anya stories were really good, I enjoyed them.

Plei, oh how I do love your vision of Connor. I can see the wheels turning behind VK's eyes, and that sly little half-smile, the wide, fake-innocent eyes. Thanks for this.

Zipping in and out, because Deb needs her interferon shortly.

There was more, but Aud was mesmerized by the idea that something as small as this plant could create something as vast as justice.

Honey, that line is magic by itself. It's the basis of magic, especially cooking magic. I just love that.

Her head swum with the calls of dozens of wronged women.

I think swam?

I lovelovelove that last one. Xander instead of Anya...

Plei, you got Connor's little manipulabrainiac thing down, there. And I love the line about her tasting like milk and sugar.

I only just got home, and now me needs me meds, me does. Yarrgh.

Plei, I liked your portraits of Fred and Connor in the story. It's very right for the time and place.

Lyra, those were quite nice. I especially liked the Aud and the Willow-retrieves-the-amulet-for-her stories.

Frank and Angelus in the Box- AKA Your Tax Dollars at Work. Not finished, because it's difficult.
"Mr. Angelus," Frank said."Forgive me for saying this, but you don't look like what I expected. You look like you should have a role on a soap opera, or be on the cover of those books, you know the ones...with the women's breasts spilling out of their dresses? My wife calls them her guilty pleasure. I tell her she shouldn't bother with them. But you know how women are, messing around with things that aren't good for them."

"Will this make things more comfortable for you, Detective?" His face changed, grew ridges, and his eyes turned yellow. For the first time, Frank felt relief at the cage separating himself and the dangerous suspect. He was shocked at the transformation, but contained his surprise.
The cage limited his pacing route, but he still made a small circuit. These bastards hated a moving target. He passed his pen from hand to hand and pretended to make notes. Suspects always wanted your undivided attention. It was better if you pretended not to give it to them. "It's not my comfort I'm concerned with. I just like to keep my cards on the table, that's all. I would suggest keeping a human face on when my partner comes in here. He's kind of a nervous sort."

Angelus laughed, a short bark that Frank hated the sound of. "Does that ever work? That was an old bit when I got thrown in jail the first time, two hundred years ago."

"You'd be surprised. Most people that come in here aren't as experienced as you. You do know the point is not to get caught, though, right? You don't strike me as the brain-dead type. And I'm not saying Timmy would hurt you on purpose. But accidents do happen, especially when feelings are running high like they are now.Mostly, he's the kind of guy who would take bugs out rather than stomping them, but once in a while he takes things personally, makes it a mission. You and me, we're not like that. You know, I envy you."-more-

"I imagine you do. Do you think I could feed now? That last meal your department gave me didn't stick with me. Too many donuts."
"In a minute. We've got all night. Or at least I do. Sunrise comes pretty fast this time of year. But really, I ought to thank you. I've been hamstrung by my conscience. With the Hellmouth behind me, I could make minions of everyone in here, instead of being a civil servant with a broken desk chair and no AC till August. You made me a Hellmouth believer. I want to thank you."

"I don't suppose they had Miranda when you were arrested last."

"When I was human last they didn't have flush toilets. Or chainsaws."

"Are you threatening me? Cause I'd hate to use this pencil for anything but writing. But we're just talking. People talk about all kinds of things. Revenge fantasies, the shrinks call 'em, but that psychology is Tim's department. Let's get this Miranda formality over with."

He reads the now famous warning, and Angelus just looks past him, probably thinking of the blood in his veins. Frank understands what women talk about when they feel like objects. Suddenly, he feels like a bag of blood and internal organs, an animal's chew toy.Finally, the indifference gets on his nerves. From a more catlike relaxed pose, he taps on the bars of the cage. "Hello, in there! Am I boring you? It's fine with me if you don't answer, no skin off my back. It's there to protect you, not me.He takes the bars in his hand and pulls. They kind of rattle hollowly, like the expression. Back to pacing, trying to stroll like there's noplace he would rather be.

Ten minutes later, Bayliss comes in. Human suspects sometimes wait twenty, but nobody wants to leave this one alone too long.

They read Angelus Miranda rights.

Omigod.

Only in Sunnydale....