Feedback: Pretty please? Just.be gentle if it sucks
Spoilers: "The Prodigal"
Disclaimer: The song is "The Last Song" by Elton John.oh..and I own nothing.zip..zero.

Yesterday, you came to lift me up
This light is strong and brittle as a bird

It was over. He'd received the news hours ago. Thankfully, there was no one around to hear his grief stricken roar.

She was dead. The reason he had been able to come back to life, to lift himself above the dirt and sludge of Manhattan. The reason he'd been able to carry on after Sunnydale, despite the depths to which he had missed her.

What was left of him now?

Today I weigh less then a shadow on the wall
Just one more whisper, of a voice unheard

She'd asked for him, at the end. Despite everything she'd said to the contrary, everything that had passed between them. She had still loved him. That should have made him at least a little bit grateful, a little bit happy, knowing that she had wanted him, had called out for him.

But he couldn't be, because her voice was silenced for all eternity.

Tomorrow, leave the windows open
As fear grows, please hold me in your arms

A soothing night air blew in from the window, but he barely felt it. For the first time in a long while, he felt the loss of his family. Like a child with a scraped knee, he wanted to run to them for comfort. But he couldn't, because their voices were also silenced, and he had been the one to silence them.

Won't you help me, if you can
To shake this anger
I need your gentle hand, to keep me calm

He could remember a time, long before he'd reached manhood, when his father had still been loving. Long before the disappointment in his son had started to manifest itself. Yes, at one time his father had been a gentle man.

Cause I never thought I'd lose
I only thought I'd win
I never dreamed I'd feel
This fire beneath my skin

Then something changed, and he became the son his father hadn't wished for. And a hard hand, a condescending look, replaced that gentleness. An often-expressed belief that he would amount to no good. If only he had known the accuracy of his predictions.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself doubting his purpose in the world, here in L.A. Was there ever a point to his existence, or was it all just some cruel trick of fate?

"Liam.." The tone was familiar, and faintly disapproving. And one that left him feeling even more nostalgic, wanting to believe that he'd really heard it. He sighed deeply as he moved to leave his office and return to his apartment down below, stopping short at the sight that met his eyes.

I can't believe you love me,
I never thought you'd come
I guess I misjudged love
Between a father and his son

There was no condemnation in his eyes, only pain and compassion. Angel swallowed hard, not sure if he was truly going insane or witnessing a miracle.

"Liam..."

There it was again, the name that he hadn't answered to for centuries, preferring to keep the name his sister had unknowingly chosen for him. The spirit just smiled sadly at his son, somehow understanding the source of his pain.

"Angel, then. Isn't that what they call you now?"

"How are you here? I killed you." A brief look of anger crossed the old spirit's face.

"You of all people should know that death isn't an ending, my son." The anger had vanished, replaced by a deep sorrow. "And no, you didn't, not really."

Things we never said, come together
The hidden truth, no longer haunting me

There was no familiar look of contempt, no promise of retribution. Instead, there was a look of forgiveness that was somehow all the more painful for it's gentleness.

"I'm sorry, father." He no longer cared that this might just be a dream, something cooked up by a grief stricken mind.

The specter made a vague tsking noise, waving one hand. "What for?"

Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he wiped them away furiously. And he was suddenly angry with his father for not understanding, for not hating him enough.

"Because I couldn't be the son you wanted, the son you deserved. You died because of me."

Tonight we touched, on things that were never spoken
That kind of understanding, sets me free

The old man nodded. "Oh, I'll not deny that you were a disappointment to me. But not for the reason you think." Angel just stared at him, dumbfounded. "It wasn't that you didn't achieve anything. It was that you didn't try."

"I don't understand."

"You never did, and I could never explain. There was such potential in you, yet you chose to waste your life. That was the disappointment."

Cause I never thought I'd lose,
I only thought I'd win

"I took the easy way out."

"And it has been harder then you thought, hasn't it?" There was no sympathy on his father's face, because it had, after all, been his own choice to take that route. But there was understanding.

I never dreamed I'd feel
This fire beneath my skin

"So much pain. I wish I'd died that day, wish she had killed me."

"I don't." He looked up in disbelief. After all the misery that he had caused. "Oh, I am sorry you had to suffer so much, and even more sorry for all that your foolish decision caused. But there is one thing I'm not sorry for."

"What?" The question was uttered softly, so afraid of the answer was he.

"Everything you've given up, so that others may live, and you still don't understand." The ghost sighed deeply. "I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For believing you wouldn't amount to anything. You have, Angel. More then you'll ever realize. You've become someone." Angel felt his eyes fill up for a second time as a centuries long ache suddenly vanished, just as his father was starting to.

"And Liam?" For once, hearing himself called to in that way didn't fill him with shame, but something resembling pride.

"She's a lovely girl, I'd say you picked well."

"Buffy." He raised grief-stricken eyes to gaze at his father's sympathetic face. "I never got to say goodbye."

"You're not supposed to. She'll be alright, until you're done. I'll make sure of it."

And with that promise, he left.

I can't believe you love me,
I never thought you'd come
I guess I misjudged love
Between a father and his son.

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