Title: Let the Punishment Fit the Crime (1/?)
Author: Adoxerella
Questions, comments, cheap shots and suggestions:
anwalkingoxymoron@yahoo.com
Rating: hard R
Pairings: A/S but will contain references to all canon pairings
Spoilers: through the final episodes of both shows. Takes place
after 'Not Fade Away'
Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only, and no profit
was gained by this venture. All characters are property of Joss, ME
and Fox.
Authors Note: This is in response to FGF challenge #87. Thanks to
Ghostforge for the beta, any remaining errors are my own. Finally,
this is my first attempt at slash, so any constructive critiques
would be most welcome.

Over the few weeks of hunting, Angel learned a great deal of
information, but most of it was only vaguely linked to the remnants
of his crew. He picked up the most surprising, and frustrating bit
of information the first night, following upon it almost every
night. Apparently a large group of Slayers were operating in L.A.,
and besides patrol, their main job seemed to be keeping tabs on him.
The surprising thing was how well they had kept their presence
hidden, keeping well under the radar of Wolfram & Hart, even after
it's reported collapse.

The frustration came from the fact they knew about the major events
of the year, but had chosen to stay away to keep their cover. The
thought of the difference an army of elite Slayers could have made,
caused Angel to regret the rift between the two groups. However, he
wasn't willing to forgive the indifference of the Council. Angel had
shouted unheard diatribes for both Giles, who orchestrated
everything, and their leader, a rather bossy and unpleasant brunette
whose name he had yet to catch. The colorful language didn't solve
much, but it made him feel somewhat better.

The one plus of the Slayers' presence, and the reason he kept
checking back with them, was the young girls' propensity for gossip.
So far, besides garnering the basics of the L.A. Slayer group and
the depth of their organization, he had learned how the fight behind
the Hyperion had ended. It had broken up midmorning as the sun
finally battled its way through the storm clouds. The remnants of
the army had broken into smaller groups. The Slayers had finally
felt compelled to intervene, pursuing and taking out some of the
fiends. The general consensus was that Angel had perished along with
the rest of his group, but no one was sure why the army had struck
at them in the first place. Angel's ruse had even fooled the
Slayers, and without the benefit of his side, they were left with
the theory that the Black Thorn had turned on itself.

Angel's favorite piece of information was Giles' pet theory that
Angelus had tried to take out the competition only to have it bite
him in the ass. Angel wished he could tell Giles that while he was
that cocky, Angelus wasn't suicidal. That particular tendency
belonged to the soul.

The variety of half truths permeating the Slayer camp made it easier
for Angel to refuse to give credence to the idea that his entire
group had perished. He may have known of Wesley's demise, and
witnessed Gunn's, but he couldn't believe Spike and Illyria had both
died as well. So between games of follow the Slayer Angel took to
hanging among demons, hoping the demon grapevine would yield more
promising news. As he slogged through the city trying to root out
the bars, brothels, hangouts and haunts Angel wished he hadn't
allowed so many of his connections grow stale. He also wished he
hadn't leaned so heavily on Lorne and his connections. Even before
taking on the corporate mantel, Angel had begun to lose touch with
his roots. Letting Lorne manage the demonic connections had left
Angel with more time to play among the humans. That idea would
usually send him down another trail of thoughts he didn't want to
follow.

Angel tried to shy away from his natural introspection. Thoughts of
the drastic turns his life had taken over the past eight years were
almost more disturbing than his present state. However since that
state didn't seem to necessitate rest, brooding seemed to sneak up
whenever he hit a lull in his information gathering.

Every loss Angel had suffered weighed upon his shoulders. Every
member of his core group, his original L.A. family, was now dead.
The fact that all those deaths had occurred because of his friends'
connections to him did not escape him. He had grown practical enough
to acknowledge that all of them had freely chosen to follow him and
befriend him. The knowledge didn't really help. The solace of free
will was hollow.

So instead Angel tried to concentrate on the current situation, and
the facts he was gleaning. The demon grapevine provided a
surprisingly accurate view of the battle and it's prelude. It was
well know that Angel and his group had double crossed the Black
Thorn. Amidst the typical rigmarole about traitors there was a bit
of admiration at Angel's plot. This was mainly because the leftover
members of the Senior Partners' army were drawing Slayers to the
various hideouts and forcing some out of their lairs. Also the
general consensus was anyone who could cause the furor Angel had was
deserving of respect.

Demons lacked additional information about his companions. The
demons were not as quick to assume Angel's demise, but they were
also unwilling to speculate on any other options. He may have won a
grudging respect from them, but no demon wanted to be his herald.

There was one final avenue he pursued, despite knowing in advance it
was futile. Angel had visited Stanford, intent on making sure Conner
had made it out of Wolfram & Hart safely. A part of him had been
afraid his stubborn boy would have tried to help out with the fight
and been slaughtered. When Angel had found Conner slogging through
his finals it had brought the first smile to Angel's face since
waking up in the alley.

Angel hadn't entertained any real notions of Conner being able to
see or sense him. Despite his fierce love for his son, Angel knew
he'd signed away any chance for truly connecting with his boy when
he'd traded his life to build a new one for Conner. The new happier
version of Conner may have been willing to have coffee with him or
join him in a fight, but the very fact he was sweating through exams
while Angel  hovered unseen and incorporeal a few feet away was a
final testimony to how separate they had come to be. It was a
blessing to see Conner alive and living the life Angel had given
almost everything to procure for him. Like every blessing in Angel's
life, this one came tainted. By giving Conner a happy balanced life
where he was actually willing to get to know Angel, the vampire had
eliminated every common thread they could use to connect.

After a day of watching his son. Angel was confident Conner was
safe, without any knowledge of the battle with the Senior Partners'
army in the alley. The next night Angel made his round of following
the Slayers on patrol, but a ruckus at a bar he knew was favored by
demons made him slip away as the Slayers moved past. He made his way
into the bar, meandering through the crowd to the focus of the melee.

A burly demon had a smaller one tied to a stool. The captor looked
like an odd mix of a polar bear and a jackrabbit, with white shaggy
fur, enormous paws and long twitching ears. It was attempting to
shake the smaller reptilian demon down for information. The lizard
like demon was resisting, but showing signs of strain. The crowd had
gathered around to hear what the captive had to say.

"Know you there last night," the goon said, while it poked the
captive demon with its claws. "Saw you run 'way from there. What you
run from."

"I didn't see nothing'," the lizard demon said. "I only know
whatever it was, was killing demons. I ran before it killed me too."

"You too close to not see. Why you not tell? You work for it?"

"No! I didn't see it. I can't tell you anything."

"I can smell your fear!" a vampire in the crowd shouted out. "If you
didn't see it, why are you more afraid of it then you are of us."

"Because it's going to kill us all!" the demon shouted, then clamped
its mouth shut, refusing to say more.

"Who? One of those army demons who came in?" another voice sounded
from the crowd.

"Fool," a third crowd member, a tall lanky gray-skinned demon,
scoffed. "The real threat is all the damn Slayers in town."

"You both wrong!" the interrogator said. "Real problem worse."

"If you know what it is, why waste our time? Why don't we go after
it and kill it?" the vampire asked.

"You can't kill it!" the captive demon wailed. "It took on the whole
army of the Black Thorn and survived. You think a bunch of demons
means anything to an Old One?"

"The Old One survived?" the gray demon asked, shocked.

The bound demon just nodded weakly.

"Where?" the grizzly demon asked, jabbing it with a claw.

"Down by the docks, but you won't be able to stop it."

"I don't care how strong it is. All of us together-," the rest of
the vampire's statement was cut of by a crossbow bolt to its chest.

"Will die," a smug female voce completed the sentence.

The crowd swiveled almost as one to see a group of Slayers fanned
out in front of the exits.

"And after we're done with you we'll go see if your little
storyteller was telling the truth, and take care of that problem
too. Let's go Slayers."

As the bar exploded into chaos around him Angel headed purposefully
for the outside. He paused in front of the brunette Slayer who was
taking on the grizzly rabbit demon.

"I'd drop the cocky if I were you, girl," he said, watching her
fight. "One thing I've learned is no matter how bad you think you
are, there's always something worse out there. And that worse is
usually ready to kill you."

Angel turned and continued through the combatants and the walls
until he reached the street. He finally had a solid lead on
survivors. He only hoped the demon informant was right, and that the
Slayers wouldn't be able to take out what may be the only connection
to the world he had left.