Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

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By Elina Shadowheart
For Lar

It was funny how the days seemed to run into each other. Out in the wastes of Oklahoma, one day was so like the next that it didn't seem worthwhile to keep track of time. Friday was payday, Saturday was for working around the house and drinking at the bar, Sunday was for recovering from Saturday night. Other than that, it could've been Tuesday or Monday or Thursday. Lindsay sure didn't know what day it was when Angel walked into his shop just after sunset, but he looked it up on the calendar later. It was a Wednesday.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he came out of the garage, wiping his hands on an oil-stained rag. "The merry band of do-gooders opening up a satellite office?"

Angel took in the dingy waiting area before he answered. "No, actually I was thinking of relocating. Los Angeles is so boring, with all the fast pace and the communication with the rest of the world. And, hey, no reservation casinos."

"Uh-huh." Lindsay fought the urge to take unnecessary insult at the dig, but failed. As usual. "Well, city slicker, what can I do for you? You kneed me to oil up the Angelmobile? Maybe shuck some corn? Or, I know: I could walk around with a piece of straw hanging out of my mouth and say 'y'all' a lot. Would that amuse you?" He flushed as Angel flicked a sardonic smile at him.

"A little defensive, are we? Not that I don't see why, considering all," he nodded at the sad-looking shop, "this."

"Yeah, well," Lindsay ground his teeth, "I know it doesn't look like much for the former Wolfram & Hart golden boy, but it's a living, one I don't have to sell my soul for." He considered a moment, and returned to his original question. "What are you doing here, though? Surely you didn't come all this way just to condescend to the hicks. You could have done that in Barstow."

"Actually, yes I did. I mean, not the condescending part, although I'm enjoying that just fine, but you. I came out here to see you."

Lindsay wasn't sure, but he almost thought he saw the elusive Vampire Blush spread across Angel's cheeks. "Well, Angel, I never knew you felt that way."

"What? No, I-" Angel started, but Lindsay cut him off.

"I think I should tell you, though, human/vampire relations are frowned on in this part of the world. Bible Belt and everything, you know." He was enjoying this more than anything since he left Los Angeles.

Angel shifted his feet. "It's not like that, Lindsay. There's a prophecy. Because, you know. There's always a prophecy." He looked up at Lindsay from under his furrowed brow. "This one, um. This one seems to refer to you."

Lindsay cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Go on."

Angel studied the wall, the floor, the chairs. Anything but Lindsay. "It says that the prodigal son of the evildoers' advocates must be present at a ceremony and, uh." He picked a spot on the ceiling and focused on that. "He, he has to be in a certain condition."

"What condition, and why am I suddenly nervous?"

"He has to. Has to have recently been penetrated-"


"Penetrated. Anally. We're not really sure if it has to be by a male, actually - the prophecy doesn't really specify - but, you know, one assumes."

Lindsay nodded dazedly. "Of course. What else?"

Angel swallowed and continued. "The prodigal son has to be penetrated, have his skin cut in a very specific patter, and brought near the point of death by a vampire. At that point the ceremony will bring a strong spirit of good into the world, using the body of the prodigal son as an entry point."

"Sounds painful, and not just the anal-violation-and-skin-mutilation part." Lindsay braced himself with his hands in his pockets. "Why should I go along with this? I've never been a white hat, whether or not I left the firm behind. Why should I put myself through something that sounds not only dangerous, but really stupidly dangerous? And did I mention dangerous? And painful."

Angel nodded. "I know. It's asking a lot. All I can tell you is, we're getting the message that we're going to need as many allies as possible, really damn fast. Also, we took a lot of damage to get a copy of this prophecy - this is something Wolfram & Hart does not want us to have."

A gleam entered Lindsay's eyes. "So what you're saying is, it would really piss off the big boys if this prophecy was fulfilled?"

Angel smirked. "Yeah, you could say that. I haven't seen them in such a swivet since...well, ever."

"Swivet? Angel, you've been talking to that British guy too much."

"Yeah, probably. But, Lindsay, will you do it? Will you help us? I know it's a lot to ask-"

"But a lot seems to be riding on it." Lindsay sighed. "Well, never say I gave up the chance to be in the middle of a major cosmic shitstorm." He moved around the office, shutting off lights and powering down his computer. "Let me take care of a few things, and I'll come with you tonight."


Three hours later, Lindsay packed his suitcase into Angel's trunk. A day and a night after that, he pulled into Los Angeles, taking directions from Angel, huddled under a blanket in the back floorboard. The skyline of Los Angeles filled him with apprehension and, strangely, a tingling sense of mission. When he woke up the evening after they arrived at the Hyperion, he bristled with nerves and determination.

Angel kept him sequestered from the other members of his team while they prepared for the ceremony, muttering something about "vessel purity" that Lindsay wasn't too sure he liked. Purity had never been one of his strong suits. He was pretty damn contaminated, actually.

He paced in his room for hours, alternating the nervous activity with flicking through a few out-of-date magazines and fiddling with an ancient radio, trying to get some kind of signal. He jumped when the knock on his door finally came, and swallowed hard when he opened it to find Angel clad in a somber black robe.

"Last chance, Lindsay. You sure you want to go through with this? Once the ceremony begins, you can't back out without doing major damage to yourself and us."

Lindsay met Angel's solemn gaze. "Angel, I mentioned the part about wanting to piss off Wolfram & Hart, right? Plus, I really hated working in that fucking garage."

Angel smiled crookedly. "All right, then. Don't let me stop you from making a career change. This way, prodigal son." Lindsay followed him down the hall to another hotel room. Angel had briefed him on the basics of the ceremoney, but he had the uncomfortable feeling there was more he didn't know - or worse, more that Angel didn't know.

As they entered the specially-prepared room, Lindsay heard low chanting, and turned to see Fred standing behind a lectern in the corner, concentration writ large on her face. The center of the room held two large tubs, surrounded by various smaller bowls and pitchers, and the rest of the team. Wesley approached him.

"Prodigal son, thou hast returned," he intoned solemnly. "Put off thy old ways and be cleansed for the spirit Arshana. For the spirit Arshana, be prepared in thy body and thy mind. For the aid of the good and the true, make thyself a vessel for the spirit Arshana, and battle the forces of evil with her strength and might." When Lindsay made no motion, Wesley leaned closer and hissed, "Your clothes, take off your clothes and put them outside the door." Lindsay obeyed as quickly as he could.

When he turned back to the room, he was painfully aware that he was naked in front of a room full of former enemies. Paranoia whispered in his ear that this was all a trick, that any minute they were going to burst out laughing and start pointing at him. He shifted uncomfortably and covered as much of himself as he could, but had to give up some of his protection when Angel approached and held out a hand. He took it, and allowed himself to be led to the tubs.

"Prodigal son, be cleansed in preparation for thy sacrifice."

Lindsay wanted to snicker at the stilted tones of Angel's recitation, but he suspected he wouldn't make things any easier for himself if he gave in to the urge. He stepped into the tub of scaldingly hot water, and Angel released his hand to move across the room to his own tub.

>From the sides of the proceedings, Cordelia and Lorne stepped up to help Lindsay bathe, both fully covered in black robes, he noted with some asperity. As they sluiced him down wiht warm water and scrubbed his body with herbs and lotions, he became aware of a prickling aliveness just below his skin, one that rose and fell in time with the quiet chanting of his handlers.

They washed every part of him, including areas that had him blushing hotly and swearing never to look either of them in the eye again. He felt a little better, though, when he glanced at Angel and realized he wasn't faring any better at Wesley and Gunn's hands. Finally, he was rinsed down one last time and helped out of the tub to be dried with squares of white linen. He gratefully accepted his black robe when it was offered to him, and followed the entourage down the hall to another room.

Fred entered first and resumed her chanting, in a language Lindsay wasn't sure he had ever heard. Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia, and Lorne processed in next, leaving Angel to show Lindsay into the room. Lindsay tried not to gape at the curtain-draped bed in the center of the room, but he lost all hope of staying calm when the other four arranged themselves around the bed, one on each side.

"Angel," he hissed, "Angel, you didn't say anything about them having to watch!"

Angel smiled. "Not an exhibitionist, Lindsay?" At Lindsay's glare he relented, and whispered, "No, they're not going to watch, they just have to help us get ready. Not," he went on before Lindsay could interrupt him, "in a touching way, just in a ceremonial way. They'll leave the room, and even though Fred has to stay she'll face the wall and put in ear plugs. See?" He pointed, and Lindsay turned to see Fred grin and put her ear plugs in place. He turned back to Angel.

"Well, okay. I guess. Let's get this show on the road."

At his words, the four handlers moved in and helped Lindsay and Angel out of their robes. Wesley smeared each of their foreheads with a waxy substance, saying to Lindsay, "Prodigal son, allow thyself to be opened for the coming of the spirit Arshana," and to Angel, "Be thou considerate, so as not to damage the vessel of the spirit Arshana." When they finally left and Fred turned her back to the room, Lindsay and Angel stood staring at each other.

"So. Come here often?"

Angel relaxed a little, and moved closer to Lindsay. "Listen, here's what you need to know about this part of the ceremony. The rubric doesn't specify that either participant has to, uh, find fulfillment...just that the vessel must be opened and penetrated as fully and gently as possible." He took a breath, then added, "And just so you know, I've done this before, although it's been a while. Even longer with a human."

Lindsay smirked. "So've I. Hasn't been that long, either." Angel raised an eyebrow at that, but decided to let it pass.

"Okay, let's get started. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can move on to the next part of the ceremony."

"Oh, right, the part where I have designs cut into my flesh. Yeah, I'm really looking forward to that." Lindsay let himself be led to the bed, though, and willed his mind away from the fact that, after this, his night was going to consist almost entirely of pain.


An hour later, Lindsay lay on his stomach on the bed, a linen sheet across his lower body. From where his head rested on the pillows, he could see Fred, still chanting, facing back into the room now, and Cordelia standing by to take over her role. Wesley, Angel, and Gunn were on the other side of the bed with a thick book and a distressingly long knife, while Lorne stood by his head with a bowl of water and an armful of towels.

The first cut came without warning, and he would have flinched and ruined the design if Gunn and Angel hadn't each grabbed an arm and held him down.

On and on the cuts went, each design seeming to take longer. They covered his back, his legs, his chest, and his arms, with a small marking on his face that brought him close to vomiting from the pain.


Finally, they let him off the bed, and five sets of arms reached out to hold him as he stumbled to the door. He let himself be led to the lobby of the Hyperion stark naked - he knew there was no way he could tolerate the black robe.

The floor of the lobby was laid out with arcane symbols and drawings. He stood in the center of them, all six Angel Investigations team members around him, and prepared for the next stage of the ceremony.

Angel stepped up to him and said, "Prodigal son, prepary thyself to be drained of thy life's blood, in order to welcome the spirit Arshana into thy body." In a quieter voice, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

"As much as I trust any vampire, and that includes my former co-workers."

Angel morphed into vampface, took Lindsay in his arms, and said, "Good, because this is going to hurt."


Lindsay's body lay quiet and still on the floor. Wesley had confirmed he still had a heartbeat, but it was faint, and they knew they had to act quickly.

"Arshana," Angel called, "thy presence is needed in the world. Great is the suffering in this land, and greater still will it be if we have not thy aid. See, Arshana, we have prepared for you a vessel, using the old ways that thou has ever preferred. Find him worthy, great Arshana, and use him to take form in this world, to right the wrongs and cure the ills caused by evil. Arshana, in thee is our hope; hear us, great spirit!"

There was silence, then a deafening roar as a great wind swirled through the hotel. It found its focus in Lindsay's body, and entered him through all the openings prepared for it. He gasped and flailed on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Finally, the turmoil stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and Lindsay's eyes blinked open.

"Wow, I'm still here," he croaked. "Only...yeah. She's here, too." He smiled, sat up, and looked around the circle of anxious faces. "Hey, check this out." He glanced down at his chest, and a collective gasp rose as the wounds on his body healed, leaving only a network of silver scars. "Pretty nifty, huh? Here, help me up." He put out a hand, and Angel hauled him to his feet.

"Hey, Angel, Arshana thinks you're pretty cute. She says you could use some work on your technique, though. She'd be happy to give you some pointers." He clapped Angel on the shoulder and wandered upstairs, leaving behind six bemused people and talking softly to himself.

"Yeah, I came all the way from Oklahoma to be with you. I thought they were crazy at first, but here you are. Or maybe I'm crazy, but who knows, right? Oh, yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing those guys. What did you have in mind?"