This is the product of an idea that read on tumblr and just couldn't help but want to write. I don't own Angel or Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning, I just play with the characters is all, haha.

All Carson wanted was to get out of Clover. Go to college and make something of himself and be more than anything that usually came from the one horse town that he begrudgingly called his home. His ticket out had been Northwestern. If he could get in, he could go on to do all that he dreamed of and more. He could be the great writer that he knew he was and could make other people see that.

Maybe blackmail was a little extreme. But he was sure that if anyone else had been put into his position then they would have done the exact same thing. When it was your life, and your career and your dreams on the line…well, you tended to be willing to do things that some would think is morally wrong. It was like that saying: The ends justify the means. No one was getting hurt, it was just their reputations on the line…okay and maybe a job or two but really, It wasn't like they wouldn't be able to bounce back if it had come down to it. And, lucky for them though, it didn't.

But even with his successful blackmail, even with the amazing lit. magazine he had made with the help of these students…he still didn't get into Northwestern…still didn't get to accomplish his dream.

It's amazing what fate can have in store for a person, isn't it? How things can be going on one path, a clear path that you think you can map out with perfect clarity…and then completely turn around and bite you in the ass. And, it was amazing also, how one well-placed bolt of lightning could just change a person's entire life.

Some would think that being stuck by lighting would be the end of their time on Earth. But tell that to Carson Philips.

Carson wasn't sure how he had ended up in L.A or in this very nice apartment, sitting at the kitchen table with a very beautiful woman across from him when the last cognitive thought he had had was when he had been in Clover, being struck down by lightning. He didn't know why it was that when he looked down at himself, instead of the hoodie and t-shirt and jeans he had been wearing, instead was a pair of well-tailored slacks and a white tank top. At first he had thought that there was no sign that he had ever been struck by lightning…then he noticed it. Poking out just a tad above the neckline of his tank top. He pulled up the shirt and there it was; a Licthenberg figure that intricately ran from just below his collar bone to just above the waistband of his pants on the right side of his body.

He had been so busy looking over himself and wondering what was going on that he had nearly forgotten about the woman that was sitting across from him at the kitchen table until she spoke.
"Not too bad of a body for a boy your age…especially one that's a writer" she stated with a nod, smiling a little as she took a bottle of wine in her hands and poured out two glasses, gently pushing one over to Carson before setting back with her own.
"Petrus Pomerol, 1998. It's one of the world's more expensive wines. I figured a well-versed man like yourself would appreciate something with a little more...body."

She gave him a good-natured smile as she raised her glass to her lips and let the liquid flow into her mouth. Carson, on the other hand, didn't touch his glass of the expensive alcohol. He simply watched her silently as she enjoyed her drink, her eyes never leaving his either as he lowered his shirt. Either she was one of the bests hosts their ever was, or she was buttering him up for something…he figured he would assume the latter and get it over with.

"Who are you and what do you want with me?"
She took one more sip from her glass before placing it down and crossing her legs, head tilted slightly to the side as she took him in.
"You're very calm for a young man that has just come back from the dead." She stated, ignoring his questions for the time being. He didn't know what it was, but even as she stated that he had died he didn't feel any need to panic. Maybe it was the fact that he was just always so calm (maybe some of the meds his mother had slipped him as a child were still doing their job) or maybe it was due to having already died. Whatever the cause, Carson continued to sit there and stare at this woman with a poker face that would make anyone sweat. Anyone that wasn't this woman, because she just continued to smile at him, taking up her glass of wine and sipping from it casually.

"You kind of remind me of tall, dark and broody. Only less muscle and more brains from what I heard." The silence continued from Carson since the young man didn't know what to say. He had no idea who she was referring to; he had no idea who she was for that matter or where he was or what she was going to do with him.
"I work for a law firm known as Wolfram and Hart. You may or may not have heard of us. Though, considering where you're from, I'm willing to bet you haven't. We have branches all over and I happen to represent the Los Angeles branch."

Wolfram and Hart. No, Carson couldn't say that he had ever heard of him but the fact that someone representing a law firm was talking to him was something odd. For a small second he wondered if any of the people he blackmailed where trying to sue him for what he had done. But if that were the case, why was she being so casual? Why did she offer him a glass of wine and speak to him as if this were some light-hearted conversation, especially after having mentioned that he had been dead. None of this was making much sense to him and he figured now was as good a time as any to start speaking up.

"What does a law firm want with me? I'm just a writer, nothing special." He told her with a nod and slight confusion on his face.
"Well, the senior partners seem to think different. They seem to think that you have some qualities that would make a good addition to our company, so they had you resurrected so that you could be offered a job."

Okay, wow. That wasn't at all anything he had expected to hear as an explanation. It was…did she say that they had resurrected him?

"That bolt of lightning really didn't do you so good. You were dead before you even hit the ground. Fortunately Wolfram and Hart has the best technology, and warlocks that you could ever ask for. They were able to bring you back before your body even started to get cold."

This was all so strange. To think that he had been dead and then the people of a law firm brought him back just so that they could get him to work for them. A small part of him liked the sound of this though; they were impressed with him so much, that they had brought him back from the dead. Another, albeit much smaller, part of him was still confused and didn't know what to think about all of this. But the more he thought about it.

"Why me? Why would you want to have me work for you when there are so many other people that I'm sure are better qualified?"
"The way you blackmailed your peers…it was cunning, it was inventive. And we've been watching you for quite some time. We like your attitude. You don't take bull, and you give it just as well. You get things done when you set your mind to it and that's something that we like. So, if you're interested then, we'd love to have you as a part of our team…well, not ours…Angel's."
"Angel?" Carson cocked an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he contemplated this decision.
"Tall, dark and broody. Champion of good, defender of the innocent and CEO of the L.A branch of our lovely little firm. You'll meet him and the others that make up his marry crew soon enough should you take this offer." She picked up the bottle again, poured another drink and leaned back slightly in her chair as she sipped absently.
"And, might I add that, as an employee or ours, you'll be given access to…basically anything that you could ever need or want. Like…maybe a little side job for the New York Times?"

The New York Times? This woman knew about his dream of writing for The Times? Of course, considering everything else this woman seemed to know, it actually wasn't all that surprising when he really thought about it. Carson listened to this woman, took in all that she had to say then weighed the pros and cons of this work. It was law, but the way this woman made them sound…to be able to hold the power to give him his dream job if he said yes. There had to be something else going on…something darker was at work here.

"…..I never got your name." The woman chuckled softly at this.
"Lilah." Carson was quiet for a moment before finally reaching out and taking the wine glass that had been sitting in front of him for almost the entire conversation. Slowly he rolled his wrist, the liquid in the glass swirling as he brought it up, breathing deep the scent of it before taking a sip, the faint taste of berries, vanilla…and spice maybe, ran over his tongue. He let it sit there for a moment before swallowing and placing the glass back down, cocking his head to the side and giving a very small smile.
"When do I start, Lilah?"

"What the hell is this, Lilah? I don't need some young hotshot punk around here."
"Well, The Senior Partners disagree. And besides, with you always leaving to go play hero, everyone is going to need someone that can handle the day-to-day operations. So you're getting a C.O.O"
"A Coo? What the bloody hell is a Coo?" Spike stated from here he stood, leaning against the front desk, reaching into his duster to pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, slipping one into his mouth before then grabbing his zippo and flicking it open and bringing the flame up to light the end of the cigarette.
"Chief Operating Officer. He'll be the one that makes most of the decisions around here from now on. Though, any decisions can, of course be overturned by Angel but I'm very sure that you'll be happy with him." Lilah gave a curt nod at them all, smirking a bit as well.
"And who is this guy that's going to be running Wolfram and Hart with me now?"

At that moment the elevator a foot or so away from them dinged and the doors opened slowly. Standing in the middle of it was a young man clad in a tailor made grey suit, no tie, and first three buttons of his dress shirt were undone. He took his right hand from his jacket pocket and reached up, pulling off his sunglasses as he stepped out into the lobby, standing beside Lilah and giving a slightly smirk.

"Gentlemen, meet Chief Operating Officer Carson Philips."