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Chapter 15

They were barely out of earshot when Connor turned and took a shot at the vampire.   

Spike had been expecting it ever since capturing the kid.  And since he was still pumped from his recent torture session of the doctor, Spike actually allowed the blow to land.  The kid had an arm to him, and his punch rocked him back a full step.  He grinned and fingered his jaw, causing the boy to eye him a bit warily. 

“Nice shot, puppy.  Got a bit o’ strength to you.  But, don’t think that because you’re Angel’s boy that I’m gonna keep the kid gloves on if you wanna do this.  That was a freebee because I’m in a right charitable mood.” 

“You don’t scare me,” Connor yelled. 

“No…” he agreed, his voice calm.  “I reckon I don’t.” 

The boy came at him again and Spike easily sidestepped out of the way this time.  He watched as the kid ground to a halt, turned, and raced towards him again.  Spike could see that his anger was getting the best of him, which accounted for the series of sloppily thrown punches and kicks Connor executed, which he easily blocked.   

“Had enough yet, puppy?” he goaded, adding insult to injury by smacking the boy upside the head. 

“I’m not a puppy!” Connor screamed.  His chest was heaving, and his eyes narrowed at the vampire in front of him with deadly intent.  Only problem was, Connor knew that he couldn’t best him. And there was nothing he could, no feeling he could exploit, to gain the upper hand.  This creature, this demon wasn’t his father to be taken advantage of so easily. 

“Ah… I see you’re starting to come to your senses.  Good… Now we can talk.” 

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Connor snapped, and he turned and stalked off, determined to ignore his tormentor. 

The next instant he found himself grabbed by the shoulders and shoved up against the wall so that he was face-to-face with the snarling vampire.  His breath left him in a harsh whoosh the impact engendered, and Connor struggled to hide the fear he felt at being caught completely off guard, having neither seen nor heard the other’s rapid approach. 

“Good.” Spike struggled to contain the growl rumbling at the back of his throat, as if the little shite hadn’t tried to dismiss him out of hand.  Trying to keep his tone conversational instead.  “Because I’ll be the one doing the talkin’.  You just get to listen.” 

Spike stared down at the kid, his forearm digging into his throat, hard enough to get his attention without doing any real harm. 

“Not rightly sure what’s goin’ on, but I’ll tell you this… your Da’s got a lot on his mind right now, and he doesn’t need you drivin’ a knife into his back… figuratively or otherwise.  You’ve got the ability to hurt him, whether you realize it or not… only… I’m not gonna let you.  You want someone to take your anger out on, you come find me.”  Spike leaned in close.  “I promise… I’ll give ya the fight you’re looking for.  Now… get outta my sight.  Us grown-ups have work to do and we don’t need some ill-tempered child getting in our way.” 

Spike shoved the kid towards the stairs and walked off without a backward glance. 

His mate was next on the list for one-on-one discussions.  She had a nasty habit of blocking him out that he had to remedy.  And, she was a fool to think that he didn’t notice the healed cuts and bruises that hadn’t been there when he’d left.   

While he was at it, he was going to have words with his grandsire; he distinctly remembered him saying to keep an eye on the Slayer. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel watched Spike walk back into the office and couldn’t prevent his relieved sigh.  He’d heard Connor’s raised voice and distinct sounds of fighting coming from the lobby, and was set to race after the pair and intervene, but a staying hand from Buffy, as well as Willow’s prophetic words, kept him from playing the enraged father and sire. 

Still, he frowned at seeing his grandchilde’s cheerful, downright smug expression upon returning, right before Spike noticed his regard.  The smile left his childe’s face, and Angel was on the receiving end of his cool stare.  Refusing to be cowed – though Spike did have reason to be upset – Angel quirked a brow and smiled. 

The smile did it. 

Spike’s fierce look dissipated and he frowned in almost an exact image of Angel’s typical broody countenance.   

It was their complete role reversal that caused Angel’s bark of laughter, earning him disapproving looks from the others in the room who were busily reading.  He managed to quell his mirth, barely – the sight of the others’ pinched faces striking him as rather funny.   

Coughing, he turned away from Spike to address Giles. 

“Anything yet?” 

“No,” the watcher answered, not bothering to look up from the text he was skimming. “Now… if you don’t mind…” 

Buffy heard the exasperation in Giles’ tone and took it as her cue to leave. 

“I think I’ll leave the research to the experts,” she told no one in particular.  “I’m gonna go lay down for a while, if that’s alright?” 

She skirted the table to the group’s murmurs of assent, pausing only long enough to give her mate a quick kiss before she escaped the room.  She didn’t miss Spike’s “we’ll talk later” face before she felt his arms wrap around her, drawing her close for a much-needed hug, and she rolled her eyes as she laid her head against his chest.   

Honestly, she was the Slayer.  Well, sort of.  They’d needed more information on Illyria – and recovering the stones from the sarcophagus definitely counted as such – and she’d made a command decision to get it… end of story. 

And no one had gotten hurt.  Much.  So, she counted her going back to Wolfram & Hart as a win-win situation in her book. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“You never told me you had a son.”   

After receiving put-upon looks from the small group researching, Spike and Angel wisely retreated to the courtyard.  Neither had said anything for the longest time, content to stare up at the sky and quietly share the bottle of whiskey situated between them. 

Angel sighed, unsure how to proceed.   

“It’s complicated…” 

Spike stifled the twinge of hurt he felt at not having known about the boy.  And how, even now, his sire was still hesitant to talk about him. 

“Ya know… never mind.  Not my business.” 

“Spike—” 

“It’s ok.  Need to get back to Buffy anyway.” 

Spike stood and made to walk back inside, but a firm grip wrapped about his wrist, keeping him from leaving. 

“Sit, childe.  I said it was complicated… I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you about him.” 

Spike sat and listened with amazement as Angel told him how Wolfram & Hart had tried to bring back Angelus by resurrecting Darla.  How the two had eventually slept together. 

“Wasn’t exactly a proud moment in my life.  I’d just discovered that everything I do will never be enough.  That there will always be evil in the world.  I slept with Darla thinking that if I could at least save her… no… that’s not true.  I slept with her because I didn’t want to be Angel anymore.  I thought—” 

“That she could give you a moment’s happiness?” 

“Yeah. I was tired of fighting a losing battle and figured as Angelus I wouldn’t have to care anymore.” 

“Darla was a bloody bitch, sire.  No way would she ever make you happy.” 

Angel snorted. 

“Too bad you weren’t around to tell me that at the time.  Anyway… she disappeared.  Told her I’d kill her if I caught her around L.A.  It was a lie, but she didn’t know it.”  At Spike’s inquiring look, Angel elaborated.  “I’d already killed her once.  I don’t think I could have handled doing it again.” 

Spike nodded his understanding.  Hell, Buffy had let two of Angel’s childer – deadly, evil vampires – go not long ago, so he couldn’t blame him for his reticence.  

“Darla’s the boy’s mother,” Spike announced in a moment of clarity. 

“Yes.” 

“How—?” 

“I’ll get to that… for now, I’ll tell you it had to do with some prophecy.” 

“Doesn’t it always?” 

Angel chuckled. 

“Seems that way, yeah,” he agreed ruefully. 

Angel continued his story, telling Spike of Darla’s eventual return to Los Angeles and how the soul of her unborn child had allowed her to sacrifice herself to save him. 

“One minute, she’s laying there, her stomach clenching constantly with her contractions, the next she was dust and Connor was there.  The prophecy allowed her to carry the child, it didn’t make concessions for her to actually deliver it.” 

He went on to explain how his team had fallen instantly in love with the child, especially Cordelia. 

“It was Wes’ love for the boy that made him betray me.  He thought I was going to kill Connor.  He… he stole him, and was then betrayed by an old enemy of mine.  A man by the name of Holtz.” 

“That the blighter that was tracking you and Darla way back when?  The demon hunter?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thought he was human.” 

“He was… only… he found some way to be brought forward into our time.  He stole Connor and escaped into an alternate dimension.  I tried… I tried to stop him.”  Angel whispered the last. 

“I know.” 

Angel looked up at Spike. 

“You’d move heaven and hell to protect your own, Sire.  It’s in your nature.” 

“Thanks, Will.”  Covering the rush of warmth he felt at Spike’s words, he took a healthy swig from the bottle lying next to him before he continued with his story.  “They spent about a month in Quar’toth.  But, you know how demon dimensions are.  He came back grown, a boy on the verge of becoming a man… his mind poisoned by my enemy.  The sick bastard raised him as his own.” 

Seeing the understanding on Spike’s face made it easier for Angel to get through the rest of it – which he did quickly.  Explaining Holtz’s death, and how Connor blamed him for it.  Cordelia and the prophecy, and the role his son played.  Jasmine and her desire to take over the world.  Connor’s breakdown.  Cordelia’s coma.  The amulet and his deal with Wolfram & Hart. 

“I didn’t know about the amulet… what it would do.  Hell, I figured I’d be the one wearing it.” 

“Don’t worry about it… what’s done is done.” 

Angel nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced.  Like it was his fault that it was Spike that ended up sacrificing himself. 

“I really thought it would be better this way.  Connor would get the family he deserved, and no one would remember him.  No one except me.” 

“What made you change your mind?” 

“Willow.” 

“She was a smart one, our Red.” 

“I’m sorry I left Buffy here,” Angel added, changing the subject.  “If I’d thought—” 

“Don’t worry about it, Sire.  Slayer’s a bit headstrong.  Probably woulda’ gone even if you were here.” 

“Yes, but…” 

“It’s fine, Peaches.” 

Angel frowned at the moniker and turned to see Spike grinning unrepentantly. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, William.  You know that?” 

“Don’t think Buffy would appreciate it if I was… the cheerleader either, for that matter.” 

It took a minute for the innuendo to sink in, but when it did, Angel couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Go!” 

“You’ll be alright here?” 

“Yeah.  I’ll probably try and catch a few hours sleep soon. You should too. Not sure how long Wes and the others will be at it, and we’ll need to be fresh to deal with Illyria.” 

Spike nodded solemnly.  He reached the door then turned back and silently regarded his sire.  “I’m glad you told me… about Connor… about all of it.” 

Angel inclined his head, unable to get any words out for the lump in his throat.  He watched as Spike slipped inside and disappeared from sight. 

If someone had told him, back when his grandchilde had first reappeared in his office, that he would one day have the type of relationship that he had now with the vampire, he would have checked them for fever if they were human, and run a sword through them if they were demon.  As much as he regretted certain things in his past, he wouldn’t change things – especially if having what he had now was the result. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy didn’t go straight to her room. Having heard Cordelia moving about in hers as she walked down the hallway, she stopped and knocked on the door.  At the slightly raised “come in,” turned the knob and let herself in. 

Cordelia was standing at the window, staring down at the street below.  The room was dark but for a bedside lamp, its setting on the lowest one possible so that the soft glow only illuminated a tiny portion of the room.  Since awakening from her coma, the former cheerleader hadn’t quite gotten used to bright lights, oftentimes wearing sunglasses even indoors – as if the sensors controlling her pupils were slow to function. 

Too, with her sorta boyfriend a vampire and possessing a slight sun allergy, she’d been keeping more nocturnal hours, and spent most of the day sleeping. 

“I figured you’d come looking for me,” Cordelia commented, eyes fixated on something outside the hotel. 

Buffy opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out.  She stared at her friend helplessly.  Watched as the girl sighed heavily and finally turned around.  

“You’re gonna make me tell you, aren’t you?”  One delicate, recently waxed brow arched in inquiry. 

“Yes.  I need to know— I know you won’t lie to me.” 

“Bullshit.  Buffy, did you ever think that maybe it’s a good thing you don’t remember?” 

“Cordy…” 

“Fine.” Her tone was impatient, and she barely refrained from putting her hands on her hips to glower at her friend.  Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, one delicate brow arching. “You want a blow-by-blow?  Or will a body count suffice?” 

“Just… just tell me what happened.” 

“You’re a masochist, Buffy.  It wasn’t your fault.  Angel said—” 

“Cordy…” 

“Alright.  Sheesh.  Dawn died.  You collapsed… fainted… whatever.” She waved her hand vaguely – the move so reminiscent of the former cheerleader’s standoffish attitude as the reigning queen of Sunnydale High that Buffy cracked a smile.  “Lab boy showed up and escaped with Illyria.  I think I was knocked into a wall near the door.  The details are a little vague… I might have passed out.  When I came to you were all ‘grrr arggh’…”  Cordelia made a face, adding clawing hand gestures for good measure – hoping to lighten the mood. “Anyway… you tore out of the hospital room killing anything that stepped into your path.  I’m not sure why you left me alone, since I was right there… but my neck thanks you.” 

“You probably smelled like him,” she mumbled under her breath. 

“What’s that?” 

“Angel… you uh…” Buffy shrugged her shoulders, waving her hand in the girl’s general direction.  “You smell like him.” 

“Ok… can I just say… ewwww?” Cordelia’s nose crinkled in distaste, much like Buffy’s used to do when she was being subject to Angel’s or Spike’s nose treatment. 

“Tell me about it,” the Slayer grumbled.  “I used to say the same thing.  But, truthfully, you smelling like Angel was probably what made me leave you alone.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s ok then.  Just… don’t do it anymore.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes.   

“It’s not like I can turn it off, Cordy.” 

“Try.” 

Buffy watched Cordelia cross her arms over her chest and give her a look that screamed “you will stop smelling me this instant.”  Any second now, she was expecting her friend to start tapping her foot. 

“Yeah… ok…” Buffy’s tone implied her friend had clearly lost it.  She pointed her thumb towards the door.  “I’m gonna get going.  See if I can get a few hours sleep.” 

The Slayer was nearly to the door when Cordelia’s words stopped her in her tracks. 

“Let it go, Buffy.  It wasn’t your fault.  No one blames you for what happened.” 

“I can’t,” she whispered.  Then she was gone, leaving Cordelia wondering if she’d done the right thing in telling Buffy what happened.

tbc...

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