DISCLAIMER: All stuff BtVS and A:ts belong to joss and co. I'm not making any money from this so don't bother suing me.
RATING: PG for now, I think.
SPOILERS: Every thing up to the end of both shows, especially 'Not Fade Away' and 'the Girl in Question'.
SUMMARY: Sequel to Blank Canvas. As Buffy and Angel struggle to keep their promises, new arrivals threaten make life even harder.
AN 1: Friends Lovers and Enemies & Blank Canvas Now make up the 'Heart Sick' series. Both those stories can be found at my site http://lost.superihost.com Go to: Fanfiction -> Heart Sick
AN 2: As mentioned in Blank Canvas, for the purposes of this story I have m ade Dawn a College freshman, instead of a high school senior (as she would have been if there was s9 of BtVS.)

Prologue

September 2004

A brown haired boy watched the shadows around him; stake in hand. He was hunting. It was amazing how many vampires crawled around the campus of NYU. He’d only been living there a few months, but his nights were never quiet.

His father had fought vampires and other supernatural elements that preyed on the unsuspecting in the night. The boy wanted to continue that legacy, keeping people safe from becoming the demons hapless victims. He wasn't sure what his father would think of his choice of extracurricular activity; he’d always wanted him to have a life outside the darkness and although he knew it must hurt his father greatly to have such distance between them, he also knew his father had been happy when he knew his son had gotten a life away from it all. But now his father was dead and the boy wanted to honour him by continuing his work, as well as keeping his father's dreams alive by continuing in college. He was student at the university as well has its secret nightly protector.

The boy could clearly remember a time when he and his father had fought bitterly, could remember thinking he hated his father and all he thought his father stood for. It was so painful to know he had been so wrong and now he would never get the chance to apologise, to tell his father he was most amazing man he had ever met.

The crowds around the campus were dissipating and now only a few stragglers remained. ‘Easy Pickings’ the boy thought facetiously to himself. He constantly had to remind himself that not every one knew the dangers that prowled the night.

Scanning the open space around him, he saw them. The girl was tall, brunette and ‘really cute’. The other was male, Blonde, taller than the girl and obviously a vampire; well, obvious to the brown haired boy, obviously not to the girl.

Sprinting from the shadows, the boy headed towards the pair, who looked for all the world to be a bickering couple. They were a fair distance away, so he picked up the pace when the vampire reached out and grabbed the girl fiercely. Realising he wouldn’t get there in time he called out, hoping to distract the blond vampire from its meal of a naïve college freshman. As he’d hoped the vampire pulled away from his victim and twisted to look at him, hardly surprising considering what the boy had yelled. ‘Oi! Fang face!’ was hardly subtle. The boy was closing the distance between them and watched amazed as the girl he had assumed was some clueless victim, used the vampires diverted attention to her advantage and pulled stake from somewhere and plunged into the shocked blond's chest.

Skidding to a halt through the vampires dust, the brown haired boy stared open mouthed for at the girl in front of him, his own stake hanging uselessly in his hand by his side.

"Whoa." He finally managed to say.

"Thank you for uh… shouting out like that." the girl said offering him a shy smile and blushing furiously.

The boy found himself unaccustomedly embarrassed, and he offered his own shy smile in return. "No problem… uh so… uh, you knew he was vampire?"

"Um, well… not until after I agreed to give him directions," the girl responded sheepishly.

"But you carry a stake?"

"What? Oh… yeah, habit… my sister used to get really paranoid about me carrying one and it sorta stuck… didn’t think I’d need it here though."

The boy nodded, tucking his own stake in his pocket. Shooting the girl a shy questioning glance he asked, "So… uh where are you headed?"

"Back to my dorm." The Girl responded not catching his hint.

"Mind if I walk you?"

Now she got it and smiled openly. "I’d like that, By the way I’m Dawn, Dawn Summers."

Part 1

November 2004

Angel brushed his lips close to Buffy’s ear and whispered softly; his warm breath tickling the hairs on her neck, making a shiver run down her spine. A slow smile spread across her face and she swooped down, grabbing the tiles from the rack and placing them triumphantly across the board one at a time using a G from Xander’s Surfing.

"I, G, N, E, O, U, S. Igneous! hah take that! And oooh triple word score!" She crowed, gaining a chuckle from Angel and huff from Xander.

"Since when was it a good idea to let Angel play? He knows more words than should be allowed!" Xander grumbled, scanning his own row of tiles.

"That’s what happens when you read, Xan," Willow sniggered. The friends were divided up into pairs: Robin and Faith, Buffy and Angel, and Willow and Xander. Gunn was spending the evening with his crew, more than likely giving them a stern talking to for recent misadventures. So far in the game, Willow and Xander and Buffy and Angel were neck and neck, so Xander’s whining was more in fun than anything else. Although his competitive streak when it came to Angel hadn’t diminished since high school.

"You know next time the power goes out and you complain you’re bored, I’m gonna use you as vampire bait, cause that would be a hell of a lot more fun than listenin' to you whine, Harris." Faith snapped, a little annoyed that she and her high school principle boyfriend were tailing so far behind. True they spent the majority of the game making out, rather than watching the board, but still, out of all of them Robin was the only one to have finished college, that should count for something.

"Nahh, vampires tend to be fussy eaters." Angel said deadpanned, causing Xander to scowl and the girls to snigger.

"See that has to be wrong, cause hey, they picked you," Xander shot back, outward appearances aside, the banter between the pair tended to be light hearted and all comments said in jest. They would never be friends, but they got by in each other’s presence by letting off steam by verbal sparring. Willow put it down to Alpha male syndrome since day one, way back when in Sunnydale. Angel was Alpha and Xander was Beta, and even though Xander was no longer vying for the attentions of the Alpha female, it didn’t stop him pushing his luck.

"What can I say, Darla wanted a pretty boy," Angel tossed back with a shrug and then his face twisted into the notorious Angelus smirk, "pity she got more that she bargained for."

"Gahhhhhh, do not, do that!" Xander shuddered, "its seriously creepy."

"Maybe he wouldn’t have to do that if you’d shut up and play!" Buffy laughed, leaning back into Angel’s chest. Angel wrapped his arms around her waist and shifted her slightly on his lap, with a grunt. Turning her head so she could look at him, Buffy shot him a concerned look. "You ok?"

"Legs gone to sleep." Angel replied sheepishly. Buffy bit her lip and gave him an apologetic look before sliding off his lap to sit beside him on the couch.

"Some things you can’t do with a circulation huh?" she said softly, snuggling into his side. As the game continued Buffy thought back over the last two weeks since the fight with Tolezar’s minion. They’d talked, quite a bit actually, between Angel’s personal mission to sort and familiarise himself with the book collection, and she and Faith getting back into serious training and patrolling. They’d put up some extra bookcases in the morning room and turned it into a study room, and also cleared out a section of the basement and filled with training equipment. Angel had been helping the two slayers train in a purely observatory and advisory capacity so far; he still wasn’t allowed to do much more than take a short walk or other light exercise, so training was definitely out. He seemed content though, and Buffy had to wonder whether he was as keen to get back into the physical action as everyone thought he was, or maybe he was just enjoying things day by day, which considering his brush with death no less that 6 weeks ago, was hardly surprising.

Angel had taken to his role as ‘book guy’ like a duck to water, but things were less settled in their personal life. With everything going on, the talks they had, had been mostly catching up; major slaying events, demons they’d fought, world in peril stuff. The more personal stuff was yet to be properly explored. She still didn’t know the full story about why he went over to Wolfram and Hart, oh she knew the party line, the ‘belly of the beast’ thing, but she felt there was to it than that. From what she knew, Wolfram and Hart had been a thorn in Angel’s side since his arrival in LA, so his explanation didn’t really cut it.

On the flip side, she hadn’t found the courage to broach the subject of Spike yet. The only real talk they’d had about him had been in the cemetery back in Sunnydale, and that hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Buffy knew she would have to talk to him about it, they’d promised each other no secrets. They had to start with no skeletons in the closet, but she wasn’t totally naïve; she had become an expert at keeping secrets and Angel had so much past, that at some point something was going to jump up and bite them in the ass.

So apart from not really having talked everything through, things were good between them. They cuddled, they kissed and they worked well together; it wasn’t as intense as it once was, but they were both gun shy. To be honest, Buffy was grateful that Angel had put the brakes on anything they did. Older and wiser, she knew they had to go slowly if they had any chance of lasting. They had made a number promises to each other, to be honest, patient and nonjudgmental about anything that happened when they were apart. She intended to keep those promises, and she knew Angel did too, their relationship meant too much to both of them to mess it up.

*********************************************************************************************

Angel watched as Buffy performed a graceful, violent ballet in the guise of ridding Los Angeles of its newly risen fledglings. God, he loved watching her, the way she moved; so small, yet so deadly. No one would believe that it was the same girl who was snuggled into his side, playing Scrabble by candlelight the night before.

Getting up from the gravestone he’d been sat on, Angel moved round and perched himself on another to get a better view. They were in one of the many cemeteries in LA, Faith and Buffy had looked over most of them while working out patrol routes, and this was one of the worst for new risers. Angel could have told them that without them scouting them all out, but he’d felt they would be better off getting used to the differences between Sunnydale and LA on their own. As a result this was the first time he’d been on patrol with Buffy since he’d taken on the role of ‘Book Guy’, along with everything else that title didn’t cover. He wasn’t too bothered, he knew better than anyone his own limitations, less than a month out of hospital he was far from recovered; running to catch the garbage men the week before had left him bed bound the rest of the day and had earned him a stern lecture from all three of his constant mother hens. His argument had been that had they bothered to take out the garbage the night before or got up before midday, he wouldn’t have had to do it.

He wasn’t surprised when he had broached the subject of accompanying Buffy that night, that she laid down a strict set of conditions; he wasn’t to get involved with the slaying, he was to carry a loaded crossbow, a stake and holy water and he was to wrap up warm. He couldn’t forget her incredulous look when he simply chuckled and agreed; most of what she’d said he’s already thought of. He had no intention of dying or getting turned again, and now sat in the crisp November air, he was more than grateful for the extras layers.

He a specific reason for wanting to come along, it would be the first time Buffy had patrolled alone in LA in nearly a decade. Both she and Faith felt they were in less than top form after such a long period of inactivity, so they had resolved to patrol together until they were confident enough to go solo. However, Faith had agreed to attend a school function with Robin and Buffy didn’t what to not patrol.

Shifting uncomfortably on the tombstone as the cold seeped through his coat and started to numb his rear, Angel frowned as he continued to watch his Slayer. She had been pounding the same fledge for well over 10 minutes now, and the newly risen vampire was beginning to resemble puree. Raising his crossbow, he waited for an opening and fired, taking pity on the batted vampire. As the dust settled Buffy straightened and scowled at her sort of boyfriend.

"I was handling it!" She huffed, a deep scowl marring her features.

"A little too well," Angel replied as he loaded another bolt into the bow, without looking up he spoke again. "Something on your mind?"

"No," Buffy snapped back, and then huffed and folder her arms over chest when Angel just raised an eyebrow and looked at her knowingly. Buckling under his intense look, she huffed again and pouted, before moving to sit on the gravestone opposite him.

Angel waited quietly, knowing that Buffy would speak up when she was ready. After another sigh and a hand through her hair, she spoke.

"Dawn has a boyfriend."

Angel blinked, of all the things Buffy could be this worked up about; her sister’s love life was not what he expected to hear about. Regaining his equilibrium he studied her a moment before speaking.

"And this bothers you." It wasn’t a question; the recently dusted fledgling was proof enough of Buffy’s concern.

"YES!"

"Why?" Angel asked, clearly confused.

"Why? WHY?! This is Dawn we’re talking about, do I have to go through the list of fuck ups that is Dawn’s love life?" Even though it was posed as a question, Angel knew he was going to hear about Dawn’s love interests whether he wanted to or not. And not forgetting his new mortal status, he wasn’t in a hurry to interrupt an irate Slayer. "OK, first there’s her not so tiny crush on you. Sure, great taste, but can you say lost cause? Then there’s Xander, then Spike, Spike of all people! Next we have the VAMPIRE I caught her making out with, in a STOLEN car, on Halloween a couple of years ago. And lastly, some high school jock with a magic Jacket! Yeah, my sister has really good taste in men!"

"Feel better?" Angel said after a short pause. He was still trying to digest the content of the rant, but he had the feeling he should be insulted by at least half the content and in hysterics over the other. It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that Dawn shared her sister’s taste in men, but figured that could result in blood shed, so left the subject alone until Buffy was calmer.

After a few deep breaths and a withering look in Angel’s direction, Buffy felt halfway sane again.

"No,"

Angel fought the urge to smile, her pout was adorable; it made her face look years younger, it was such a Buffy expression.

"Buffy…" Angel started in a soothing tone, but Buffy cut him off, leaping from the head stone and pacing furiously.

"Don’t start, I’m worried ok? She’s my Little sister."

"I can understand that." And he really could, more than once he thought that had his own sister Kathy, been born in this day and age, he would have gone insane when she started dating. "But Buffy, Your track record isn’t much better. We all have to make our own mistakes. She’s 18 and at college. you can’t wrap her up in cotton wool. And you never know, this guy, he may be just what Dawn needs. "

I Know, but…"

"She’s your sister, and no matter how old she is, you want to protect her." Angel cut her off. Giving her a sympathetic look he stood, he caught the blonde slayer in his arms. The fight left her as she was enveloped by his familiar embrace.

"Yeah."

**********************************************************************************************

Buffy and Angel decided to call off patrol early, but when they arrived back the house, they found it unusually quiet. Assuming both Willow and Xander had gone to bed, as it was just gone midnight and none of them got much sleep the night before; they crept quietly into the kitchen to raid the fridge for post slayage snacks. Well aware of how bad Buffy’s cooking was and noticing a lack of snack food, Angel shoed Buffy to the table and set about making omelets.

"I forgot you could cook." Buffy said after watching him for a long moment.

"I would have reminded you earlier, if you lot would let me do anything around here." Angel replied not looking up from his task.

"You can’t blame us for worrying, Angel."

"I don’t, I just feel like I’m not pulling my weight sometimes." He sighed.

At the mention of weight, Buffy thought back to how he had been when she first arrived back in the city, so thin he was almost skeletal. The memory made her shudder; having seen him so very ill went a long way to explain why they weren’t letting him pull said weight. Glancing over to where he stood over the stove, she looked him up and down; the month running up the surgery had only bulked him slightly, but the month after had done wonders, he had a healthy build now. He was still nowhere close to the physique he once had and she knew he might never look that muscled again. Truth be told, she couldn’t say it bothered her; he was still the most attractive man she had ever met.

When Angel turned around to pass her a plate, he caught her heated look, and much to his own surprise, felt a blush steal up his cheeks. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Buffy ducked her head. Taking his own plate, he took a seat opposite the blonde, who was now studying her omelet intensely. Toying with his food with his fork, he mulled over how much of a mood killer the question he really wanted to ask was going to be. Deciding it didn’t really matter, as no matter when he brought it up it was going to be difficult, he took a deep breath sat back in his chair.

Sensing a change in Angel’s mood, Buffy abandoned her meal and looked at him curiously. She watched him watching her, until he spoke.

"When you were talking about Dawn you mentioned Spike…"

Buffy nodded and pushed her food away. But before she could speak the back door opened and Faith and Robin entered, obviously trying to be as quiet as possible. When they noticed the pair at the table, they too took seats, and Faith collapsed forward, folding her arms on the tabletop and dropping her head to rest on them, with along drawn out groan.

Knowing that they weren’t going to continue their conversation, Angel smiled at Buffy before speaking.

"Rough night?"

Faith looked up, resting her chin in her hands. "Freshman Music Recital."

"Nasty." Buffy said in sympathy.

"No kidding."

"It wasn’t that bad," Robin chimed in, when Both Buffy and Faith looked at him incredulously he shrugged, "I’ve been to worse."

Angel let out a chuckle as Buffy patted Faith on the head. "This is what happens when you date high school principals."

Faith dropped her head back on the table, this time without the cushioning of her folded arms, with a loud thump.

Part 2

They were evenly matched, neither getting the real upper hand, dodging, weaving, trading blows; this fight could last forever or until one of them tired. Faith ducked one punch only to be suckered by another. She retaliated, catching her opponent with a roundhouse, which bought her some time and space. But her opponent wasn’t out of the game for long and the battle continued.

Punch, punch, kick, dodge, block, punch…

"FREEZE"

Both combatants froze, but didn’t face the speaker; they kept their eyes locked on each other. The speaker moved round, and with one deft, effortless move, knocked Faith off balance and onto the floor.

"Shit!" Faith yelped as she toppled to the training room mats, and then glared up at Angel as he offered her a hand.

"You’re concentrating too much on your Upper body, your feet are all over the place." Turning to the other combatant he frowned. "Don’t look so smug, Buffy, you concentrate so hard on your leg work you leave your head exposed."

"Oh."

"You both need to find the balance between upper and lower body… and stop turning the sparring into a competition." He continued as the girls grabbed towels and water bottles from the table. He enjoyed this, watching the girls train, sharing his knowledge and techniques with them, helping them become better fighters. Or at least he hoped he was helping, most of the time the girls would start sparring and it would turn into a ‘who could knock the other on their ass first’ competition.

"Someone’s grumpy today." Faith mumbled low enough that only Buffy heard. Buffy’s lips twitched at the comment, Faith wasn’t wrong, Angel was the ultimate killjoy this morning. When he’d come down for their training session he’d been short with both of them, but they were used to it. It was all part and parcel of his recovery; he had good days and bad days. Some days he was on top of the world, eager and even playful, others he could be surly and waspish; sometimes, lack of sleep or eating the wrong thing accounted for his mood. Other times there wasn’t any explanation, he simply woke up grumpy. The drastic day-to-day mood swings had lessened over the last month, but every now and then he could be a real pain to live with.

"We done for today?" Faith asked, throwing her towel over her shoulder and tacking a long gulp of water. They’d been training for well over 3 hours and it had been hard graft, Angel had been really pushing them.

Angel merely nodded, placing the quarterstaffs they’d used earlier, back in the weapons locker they now had.

"Cool, I’m gonna hit the shower, Later B,"

Once Faith was out of sight up the stairs, Buffy moved to stand beside Angel, who was now locking up the equipment.

"Sooo, Bad night?"

"What?" Angel had been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard her approach.

"Call me crazy, but I’m thinking your whole drill sergeant routine this morning is more than just a mood." She said resting her hand on his arm.

"I didn’t sleep well," he responded evasively He hadn’t slept because he’d spent the entire night thinking. Two topics in particular; Spike and Connor. Nearly everything that had happened since he left Sunnydale he was happy to tell Buffy about. He knew that some of it would be difficult, explaining his feelings about Cordelia and his relationship with Nina for example. But Connor was another matter; his conception, birth, disappearance and then Wolfram and Hart were extremely painful topics. He would tell her, he just wasn’t sure how. He knew Buffy wasn’t buying the reasons he gave as to why he signed on with Wolfram and Hart, and although she had promised to be nonjudgmental, he couldn’t help but feel that the whole sordid story could bring their relationship to grinding halt, never to be restarted.

And then there was Spike, Spike who his feelings were deeply mixed about, Spike who he had come to admire and respect in secret over the course of that year. If Buffy were to tell him he was the consolation prize because Spike hadn’t made it through the fight, he thought it might kill him. Not to mention he still wasn’t convinced that the Shanshu had only gone to him, because he was the only vampire with a soul left.

"The meds not working?" Buffy’s soft inquiry shook him from his dark and distressing thoughts. Rubbing his hand over his face, he shook his head lightly.

"No, I just had a lot on my mind."

"Well maybe after I shower we can talk?"

Angel nodded.

*******************************************************************************************

When Buffy came back downstairs after her shower, she found Angel sat in the study room. Leaning against the doorframe, she took a moment to just watch him. He was sat in a large armchair, his feet propped up on the table, reading a book. His face was contorted into the most adorable frown, and every so often, he would tilt the book up at an angle and scowl at the page, obviously not quite sure what he was seeing. She fought the urge to giggle as he looked at the same page from every possible angle before raising an eyebrow and shrugging.

Deciding that she couldn’t stand and watch him forever, not matter how much it appealed. Stepping into the room she cleared the throat, drawing his attention away from the book.

"Hey," he said looking up at her.

"Hey," she smiled back, taking seat opposite him, once he’d lowered his feet from the table. "Good book?"

"Mating rituals of pan-dimensional migratory demons," he replied closing the book and reading its cover, "In Ancient Greek. Its one of Wes’."

"Ah, sounds, ummm..."

"Disturbing?"

"Pretty much,"

"You know, if I had known this was the kind of stuff he read in his off time before…" He trailed off with a shake of his head, "Well let's just say I would have sat him down and gone over the virtues of a good wholesome copy of Playboy."

Buffy just nodded and tried to keep a straight face, she as failing miserably. His sense of humour caught her out sometimes, it was dry and subtle and combined with his ability to keep a poker face in any situation, she was never sure if he was joking or not. The mental image of Angel, sharing his ‘gentleman’s magazines’ with Wesley popped into her head, and she shuddered. Looking up she saw that Angel was watching her, his earlier sour expression back full force. She sighed; it was too much to ask that his mood had evaporated while she was in the shower.

"You said before, you had a lot on your mind… wanna talk about it?" She probed gently, and was surprised when he surged from his seat and walked over to the bookcases and the guise of returning his book to its shelf. Buffy watched his tense back from where she sat, waiting for Angel to unload.

"I was thinking… I was thinking about Spike."

"Spike?" She repeated slowly, already knowing where this was headed.

"You and Spike."

"Ah, me and Spike. Wow, now there’s a topic."

"You promised," Angel said quietly, turning around to look at her.

"So did you," She noted frankly and Angel nodded, conceding her point.

"Would you rather I start? Is there…" He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Returning to his seat, he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We need to do this, we can’t live with all the secrets."

"I know," Buffy replied looking down and playing with her hands in her lap. "Its just…"

"Hard?"

"Yeah."

"So we start with what we know: you and Spike, me and Cordelia," he shrugged as he trailed off, putting the ball in her court. If she wanted to ask about him and Cordelia he would tell her, if she wanted to tell him about Spike, he wouldn’t have to ask again later.

Leaning back in her chair Buffy sighed. "I’m not avoiding it, no, actually I am, but could you tell me about Cordelia, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about Spike just yet."

"OK," Angel nodded; the Cordelia saga was something he had already dealt with himself, a long time ago, after she died. "Cordy… she was my best friend. After you died, she was the only one who saw how much I was hurting and she let me grieve, in my own way. Things were happening, I needed someone to just be there, and she was. We got very close, I went through some hard times, and she was my rock."

Buffy had been listening intently as he spoke, dropping her head again; she played with her fingers and bit her lip, before looking up.

"Did you love her?"

"I did," Buffy’s face crumpled and Angel shook his head, "Like a sister. Her memory for me will always be of a little sister. I… at one point I thought maybe… but loneliness and stress will make you think a lot of things."

"Tell me about it." Buffy snorted and then sighed at Angel’s questioning look, "Spike…"

Angel didn’t say anything, just watched her as she took a deep breath and continued.

"When… when Willow brought me back, none of them knew, they didn’t get it, Spike did."

Angel dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It was before the soul." He stated, not sure where to put his eyes.

"You promised not to judge!" Buffy pleaded, not liking his instant reaction.

"And I’m not, really Buffy," he took a deep breath, knowing that she had slept with Spike before his soul went against everything he had always believed, everything he had left her for. Hell, even being with Spike after the soul was a slap in the face. Returning his gaze to hers, he swallowed then motioned with a hand for her to go on. "So you and soulless Spike."

Buffy picked up the inadvertent ice that accompanied ‘soulless Spike’ but chose to carry on regardless. He hadn’t just got up and walked away, so that was a good sign.

"I was… coming back from Heaven, I just… When Giles left I lost it, I couldn’t deal and Spike he offered me a way to feel something, anything and I used him. What we had had was bloody and violent and I let him do things…" By this time her words were whisper soft and her head was so lowered he chin was on her chest.

Angel’s heart broke for her, he knew all to well where she going with this and what that kind of despair felt like. Hadn’t he done almost the same thing with Darla? Siding from his chair to he floor, he shuffled closer to hers and pulled her down with him so they were sat side by side, their backs against her chair. The position was almost identical to one they’d been in under a tree in Sunnydale the night after her mother’s funeral.

He held her as she haltingly continued her story, finding the absolution she had unknowingly sought in his comforting embrace and soft endearments. When she had finished, Angel told her about Darla, everything up to his epiphany, and then she told him of the last months with Riley. By the time they had both finished, there had been shouting, crying and comfort.

Buffy felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her soul; she had no secrets from Angel anymore. Everything major that had relevance to their relationship since his leaving, was out in the open. She’d also learned a lot of what made this new Angel tick, he’d been brutally honest with her, and there were some issues she wasn’t exactly happy about, Darla and Nina for example. She hadn’t missed the fact that Angel had perused the relationship with Nina before his ill-fated visit to Italy. That was something else he told her about, how that visit had broken him. She had seen the end result but to hear him talk about his decline into hopelessness, both with Darla and after Italy, made her heart ache for her kind, gentle Angel.

When they finally left the study, Buffy felt real hope for the future of their relationship. Angel, having neglected to bring up Connor, felt like the biggest fraud alive.

**********************************************************************************************

Buffy watched Angel out of the corner of her eye. It had been two days since their revelatory talk on the Study room floor. That evening things had been fine, but after that things had deteriorated. He was brooding again, something she hadn’t seen him do with such intensity, since she’d moved back to Los Angeles.

But it wasn’t the brooding in itself that had her worried; it was the expressions that would creep over his face as he did. The only words she had for them were disgust, loathing and derision. And it wasn’t just that, every time she was with him, he was tense and occasionally flinched at her touch. In Buffy’s mind it could mean only one thing, he was disgusted, with her.

Something she had told him two days ago must have made him back track on their relationship, yet he hadn’t said anything. At the time he had been so understanding, how could one night bring such a turn around?

She wanted to shout, to scream at him to tell her what she had done so bad, so they could fix it. She was so frustrated; it wasn’t like he hadn’t had his share of not so pleasant things to tell her. So what had she done so that would make him react this way? But the little voice in her heart, her conscience, taunted her, reminded her, and she knew what she had done. Spike.

He was disgusted with her because of Spike, her whirlwind affair with the darker side of sex, those shameful few months where she’d willingly given her body to a soulless demon. It wasn’t just one night of total despair, but months of brutal fucking, where she’d tasted to the true meaning of depravity.

So she watched him, and hoped. She hoped that he could brood it through, that he would find a way to see around how far she’d fallen. Hoped he would see how far she’d come since then, and how much she regretted it. But as the hours turned to days, she began to doubt. To Angel she had always been a bastion of virtue, purity and good; to know about what she had done must have shattered that illusion. Could it be that Angel’s seemingly endless well of forgiveness and understanding, had finally dried up?

**********************************************************************************************

Angel watched her, and knew she was watching him. It was the perfect moment to tell her, the perfect moment to explain the whole story. They were alone in the house, so one around to interrupt; it wouldn’t take much to just go over and talk to her, but he didn’t. He kept his head buried in the book he was pretending to read and he brooded.

This wasn’t the first such opportunity he’d had, but like all the times before he faltered. How did one tell the love of ones life, something as monumental as this? What on earth could he say?

‘Hey Buff, remember when you said, and I agreed, that we now had everything out in the open? You do? Well, I lied, and By the way I have a son and he’s nearly 20, but should only be 3. But don’t worry, I made a pact with the Devil and now no one remembers him. Does he remember me? Sure! But he thinks I’m dead, so he won’t be popping round any time soon.’

Angel snorted mentally in derision of his own train of sarcastic thought. He was such a hypocrite; he’d been the one to insist on honesty, yet he was the one who couldn’t be honest. And in the face of Buffy’s brutal honesty, his self-disgust knew no bounds.

So he continued to watch her, watching him, this sad look on her face. This look of frustration, defeat and regret. It didn’t take genius to work out she knew something was wrong. Every time he saw her, his gut would clench with the weighing guilt of his own dishonesty. His own inability to share this most crucial of personal burdens. Who else was he supposed to share it with, if not her? Hadn’t she just proven her almost limitless capacity for compassion? She had held and comforted him over the tale of his child’s conception; surely she wouldn’t hate him for said child’s existence?

***

Two Days Previous

"You slept with Darla?"

"Yeah."

"But she’s dead." Off Angel’s look, which was part incredulous, part confused, she elaborated. "Dust, she’s dust. I was there, I saw you do it."

"Wolfram and Hart brought her back."

"So what? You said ‘hey Darla, I haven’t got laid in while, fancy a romp?" There was no real accusation in her tone, only incomprehension and curiosity. She didn’t question that Wolfram and Hart could bring her back, she’d heard numerous stories of their capabilities and resurrecting vampires seemed like small fry in comparison.

"No…" Angel took a deep breath and maintained eye contact. This would be a hard story to tell, it was deeply personal and, as a private man by nature, opening up to this degree was difficult. Despite the events happening a long time past, he’d never shared his own hurts on the subject with any of his friends. When he had come back to the fold, none of them would have been very appreciative of his need to talk about the catalyst to his self-destruction. "They brought her back to drive me insane. She haunted me, she was in my dreams, everywhere I went, everywhere I looked, she was there, and she was human. For a long time I thought I was losing my mind."

"What happened?" Buffy asked softly, slipping an arm around his waist and offering gentle comfort. They were still sat at the foot of Buffy’s chair, after her heart rendering confessions about Spike.

So he told her, about Darla’s soul catching up with her, about her illness and about her finally excepting her fate. He buried his head in her shoulder as he told her about how he snapped, lost all sense of reason after he watched her being turned by Drusilla. How he fired all his friends and became a one-man weapon of vengeance, determined to get revenge on Wolfram and Hart for stealing Darla’s second chance.

All the time he spoke, his voice clogging with emotions he thought long ago dealt with; Buffy held him, offered him comfort and gentle reassurance.

When he told her about letting people die, she didn’t bat a lash. But when he haltingly told her of the one night with his sire, she gasped, her face a mask of grief and horror.

"You wanted to lose your soul!"

Angel just hung his head. As terrible things went, trying to lose your soul and become a crazed monster was pretty much the worst thing he could have done.

"Angel, why? You used to say you would rather die than let Angelus run loose!"

"I know, but… I was afraid. I was in so much pain, and I wanted it to end. But I couldn’t go back to Hell. So I tried to make it stop the only other way I knew how."

"God, Angel."

***

Present

That was the point at which he should have told her, but he hadn’t, and had neglected to do so at every opportunity hence. He knew the longer he left it, the worse the repercussions would be. The one thing Buffy hated was lies, and a lie of omission was still a lie. Their fledgling relationship was already suffering, and the longer he left it the less likely it was that Buffy could forgive his neglect.

There was a voice that told he didn’t have to tell her. It wasn’t like Connor was going to show up and expose his treachery. But his conscience plagued him, nagged him night and day. He wanted things to work with Buffy, but so far he was the only one jeopardising that chance. So he wouldn’t chicken out. He would tell her, now; and no matter how angry she was, how hurt, he would find a way to make it up to her.

Rising from his seat, he was about to go over to where she sat, when the doorbell rang. That voice that hadn’t wanted to tell her sighed in relief, but on the whole Angel cursed his misfortune of another opportunity missed. Hopefully it would be salesmen or Jehovah’s witnesses, someone he could take out his frustration on.

"Are you gonna get that?" Buffy asked, not looking up from her magazine.

"Yeah,"

Padding into he hall, he opened the door, ready to growl at whoever had spoiled his moment; but instead of a salesman, he was greeted by a face that made him smile.

"Dawn!"

"Angel! Hi, umm we were in the area and thought we’d stop by, so is that ok?"

"We?"

"Oh right, me and…" She bit her lip and reached out to grab the arm of the person that was just out of Angel’s line of sight. When the boy came into view, Angel felt like he’d been sucker punched. The two gaped at each other for less than a second, before they gasped in unison.

"DAD!"

"Connor!"

Part 3

"DAD"

"Connor!"

Connor stared at his father in disbelief; here he was stood before him in glorious sunlight. He was alive, and although the fact that he was ALIVE was noted, but it didn’t really register, what did however was the man he thought he’d lost was standing there in front of him. Raising his hand, he took a tentative step forward towards a wide-eyed Angel, before months of grief overwhelmed him, and he threw himself into the older man’s arms.

"Oh god," Angel gasped before wrapping his arms around the boy ‘man. He’s a man now, not a boy. My son’ Despite his tendencies towards martyrdom, there hadn’t been a day he hadn’t missed him, longed to know how he was. And now his son was in his arms again. ‘My son, my son, my son’. It was all Angel could do not to burst into sobs, his earlier thoughts and his relationship with Buffy temporarily forgotten, in the overwhelming joy of their reunion.

******************************************************************************************

Buffy frowned to herself, Angel had been at the door a long time, well not long, but most salesmen or religious types usually crumbled under the weight of his still intimidating looks, stuttered and beat a hasty retreat. Even the most desperate and hard-core of the door-to-door nuisances, would only try their pitch for a few seconds before turning tale and fleeing. So what was taking so long? They weren’t expecting anyone and if it had been anyone that they wanted to come in, well, they’d already be in.

Throwing down her magazine, she climbed off the couch and went to investigate. To say she was surprised at what she saw in the hallway was an understatement. Dawn was stood gaping like a fish, and what she was staring at made Buffy blink; there was Angel, hugging another man, and she couldn’t be sure who, but one of them may have been whimpering. She was torn as to what to do next; throw her arms around her sister or try and pry Angel away from, whom she could only assume was, Dawn’s boyfriend. There was something else too, like an inch in the back of her head, a tiny spark of recognition. The young man, Angel was currently… ‘Hugging, molesting, crushing the life out of?’ … Seemed familiar, not in the sense that they’d ever met, but in the sense that she should know who he was.

Realising that Dawn hadn’t even noticed she was in the hall yet, she stepped forward in an attempt to either break the two men apart, or at least understand what was going on. Moving forward she went to lay her hand on Angel’s shoulder, inadvertently brushing the younger man’s arm as she did.

"Angel wha…"

A barrage of images bombarded her at once.

***

Her and Spike in his crypt, naked, on his bed.

"Got a juicy titbit of Info for you slayer,"

"Gee, what now?" Struggling out of his reach, reaching for her clothes.

"About the great soul’ed one, thought you’d be interested… guess not." The stench of cigarette smoke, accompanied by a casual shrug.

"What about Angel?"

"Oh you are interested, well funny thing is, he’s gone and done the impossible, dozy pillock."

"Don’t push me, Spike"

"Poof’s gone and got himself a sprog."

"Huh?"

"A kid, little person, baby... Your precious Angel has a son."

***

Buffy gasped and pulled away as more images assaulted her, images of her chasing down demons at Willie’s searching for verification of Spikes revelation. Images of her crying alone in the shower, when the truth of his statement had been confirmed. The despair and anger at the knowledge that Angel had given someone else, what he had said he could not give her, one of the things he had left her for.

She took a step back and raised her hand to her mouth, her gasp had drawn the attention of the two men and they both faced her. But she couldn’t care about either right now, the knowledge of Angel’s son, rocking her to her core, as it had done three years previous.

"He’s your son" her voice was barely a whisper, laced with pain and betrayal. Pain that Angel had had a child with someone else, but betrayal did not come from this insight. No, the betrayal was more recent; for two days she had walked around in an increasing funk of guilt over her actions with Spike, and how Angel had not been able to move past it. But what Angel had done was worse, so much worse; he hadn’t even told her he had a son. He had even somehow removed the knowledge from her mind. Rage coursed through her veins as the full implications became apparent. Angel had said to her that they couldn’t build a relationship on a foundation of lies, yet he was the prince of lies. He had not only lied, but buried the evidence of his deceit, and it was obvious that he had no intention of ever telling her.

"Buffy…" Angel said quietly, as he pulled away from Connor and turned towards the blonde slayer. His brain caught up with the unfolding events and he hastened to control the damage, reaching out to her.

"Don’t… don’t touch me…" Buffy said hoarsely,’ moving out of his reach, then with one last horrified look, sprinted up the stairs.

**********************************************************************************************

Angel looked back and forth between his son and Buffy’s retreating back. He was torn; he wanted to stay, talk to Connor, and reacquaint himself with his long estranged son. But he also wanted to catch up to Buffy, explain, or at least try some damage limitation. He could see their new relationship crumbling by the second.

Connor faced much the same dilemma; there was so much he wanted to say to his father, so much he needed to tell him; but as he glanced between Angel and his girlfriend, he saw that Dawn seemed to have gone into shock, she was just looking between the two, her mouth hanging open like a guppy. It appeared that both he and Angel had a lot of explaining to do. Their eyes met and held in a brief moment of perfect understanding, and Angel bolted for the stairs. There would time enough for them later, right now they had to deal with their girls.

**********************************************************************************************

Buffy paced up and down her bedroom angrily. No, angry wasn’t right, furious was a better description for the blonde slayer. As she paced, Buffy rattled off a long string of curses, and not just directed at Angel. She was angry with herself; she was a grown up woman, yet here she was, hiding in her room like she was 16 again. Funny how it had been Angel she had been hiding from then too. Back then, he had climbed up to her window so they could talk, but in a moment of blinding clarity she realised she didn’t even know if Angel would follow her. Why should he, when his long lost son was downstairs?

Brutally, she crushed her jealousy; it wasn’t what her internal ranting was about. No, what she was angry about was his lies, his betrayal of her trust. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this betrayed; why hadn’t he told her? Had Connor not shown up on the doorstep would he have ever told her? Why, when she had shared the deepest parts of her self with him, had he not had the faith in her to do the same? In fit of rage, she picked up a figurine from her dresser and hurled it at the wall.

The release gained by the outburst of violence, made her rage deflate. She stared at the remains of what had once been a present from her grandmother, with a strange sense of detachment; she was still pissed as hell, but the need to pummels Angel’s face into a bloody mess had passed, so had the urge to curl up and cry, for which she was extremely grateful. Dropping to her knees, she began the painstaking processes of clearing the porcelain from the carpet.

She had almost finished her task when there was tentative knock on her door. She assumed it must be Dawn; it wouldn’t be Angel, what with Connor now here. With a sigh she lumbered to her feet and opened the door, only to be faced with the person she least wanted to see.

"Go away, Angel." She said, and to her own surprise, said calmly, before moving to shut the door. Angel stuck his hand out and to stop it from closing. She was well aware she had the strength to close it regardless of his hand, but she just glared instead.

"Let me explain."

"Shouldn’t you be with your SON, right now?" She snapped waspishly. ‘Great, way to come off as mature, Buffy.’

"He’s talking to Dawn." Angel replied quietly, his eyes lowered, his whole posture begged forgiveness.

"Let me guess," She said sarcastically tilting her head on one side. "She didn’t know either? What? Is the propensity to lie genetic?"

Angel refrained form asking when Buffy had started using words like propensity, and instead tried to joke in a feeble attempt to win her over.

"Well it sorta comes with the life style, you know what they say, Spies and Super heroes…"

"Of which, you are neither." Buffy’s blunt statement made Angel flinch, but Buffy held no sympathy for him in that moment. "I can’t do this right now."

As she moved to close the door once again, Angel made on last-ditch effort to reach her.

"Please, let me explain."

With a growl of exasperation, she threw open the door and stalked to the middle of the room, her back to the door. Angel followed, shutting the door softly behind him; once she was sure the door was closed, she spun round and locked her uncompromising stare on the ex-vampire.

"So explain. And this better be dammed good, coz you’ve pulled some crap in your time Angel, but this really takes the piss."

"I wanted to tell you… I just…"

"Just what? Tell me… tell me why I had to find out you had a son through third parties, not once, but twice!"

"Twice?" Angel repeated, with a confused shake of his head.

"YES TWICE! I remember Angel, Whatever freaky mojo you used to make me forget, has worn off and I remember! GOD! I feel sick, knowing you did something to my head, you used magic on me or… you know what? Forget it, whatever it is you have to say. I don’t want to hear it. I trusted you! I trusted you and you violated me!"

"Buffy no…" Angel took a step forward. Buffy’s reaction was instantaneous and caught in the heat of rage, she picked up a picture frame, and hurled it at the wall behind his head.

*********************************************************************************************

Dawn bit her lip, as she watched Connor’s worried face, she wasn’t sure how to react, or how he wanted her to. Oh, she had already known he was the child of two vampires, just like he knew she was a former mystical key. She’d lived around the supernatural long enough, to be able to spot preternatural abilities when she saw them, and he’d had to explain. They bonded over debates on the pros and cons of false memories and what it was like living, knowing your past was a lie. But they’d never talked about their families, or how they ended up where they had. She had always assumed that he’d been rescued from his vampiric parents and given his new life to repair damage inflicted by his old one. Well, it turned out she was partly right, only it had been his vampiric father who had given him his new life. His vampiric father who was no longer a vampire. His father was Angel, Angel who had been her sister’s long time love. And his mother was Darla, Darla who tried to kill both her mother and her sister at one time. God, could her life be any more complicated?

"Dawn?" Connor asked as gently as he could, his voice laced with fear. He really liked Dawn, if he was truly honest with himself he would note that he was in fact falling in love with her. They’d only known each other for a couple of months, but their connection had been instant, and he would hate to lose her now.

"What exactly do you want me to say? I’m not mad, a little overwhelmed, but definitely not mad."

"So we’re ok?"

"Connor, I’m not my sister, I don’t run off in hysterics when my personal life throws me a curve ball. If I did, I’d be in a loony bin by now. I mean, it’s a little freaky that I’m dating my sister’s ex-boyfriend’s son, but hey we live in a freaky world."

Connor smiled a smile of pure relief, then frowned as a thought occurred to him, "You’re right that is freaky, I’m dating my Dad’s ex-girlfriend’s little sister." Then he mumbled "Well at least that’s not as bad as screwing someone who changed your diapers."

Dawn heard him and scowled. "Connor, I would really appreciate it, if you never talked about Cordelia and what you two… ewww… it’s too much, just don’t, ever again."

"No objection from me."

The two shared a smile and Dawn threw her arms around his neck giving him a kiss on the cheek. Connor moved his head to capture her lips in a deep kiss, to which Dawn eagerly responded. This kiss was cut short however, when they both heard a thump of something hitting the bottom of the stairs, and soft cursing. Looking through the doorway into the hall, they spotted a duffle bag at the bottom of the stairs and Angel half way down.

When Angel reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the pair, their arms still around each other. Dawn broke free of Connor and walked over, giving Angel a warm Hug.

"I never had the chance to say hello properly earlier."

Angel offered her a small smile. He was a ball of deeply conflicting emotions. It was pretty obvious how upset Buffy was with him, and he’d taken his queue to get the hell out of her sight. Confused, hurt and guilty he’d simply retreated to his room, and packed a bag. He would leave for a while, let Buffy cool down, and if after that, she wouldn’t let him explain, he would respect her wishes, what else could he do?

Having not even a fraction of his previous strength he’d overestimated how much he could carry and had dropped his bag halfway down the stairs. Now he was once again face to face with his son and his turmoil grew.

As Dawn pulled away, Connor looked from Angel, to the bag on the floor and back again. Finally cocking his head to one side, he frowned.

"You leaving?"

"Umm, yeah… but uh…" Fishing into his pocket, Angel withdrew a scrap of paper and held it out to his son. "This is my cell… uh… I don’t know where I’ll be staying… but call me later… and we can meet up, maybe… and talk?"

Connor’s face creased in confusion, not sure what was happening, but he took the paper anyway and nodded.

Angel nodded too and reached for his car keys, but Dawns hand shot out to stop him. When Angel scowled, she back peddled, knowing she had over stepped her bounds with her presumptuousness.

"I’m sorry, it’s just Buffy emailed me and she mentioned…" She trailed of when she saw a flicker of panic in Angel’s eyes, which darted over to Connor and back again. She understood, Connor knew nothing of Angel’s illness and surgery and it wasn’t her place to spill the beans. Licking her lips, she looked over to Connor and back to Angel. "Maybe we can drive you somewhere? You look tired."

"Thanks." Was all that Angel said in reply, and taking that as an affirmative, Connor grabbed one of Angel’s bags and left for the car.

**********************************************************************************************

Connor and Dawn stood outside the office, in the parking lot of a mediocre looking motel, not far from the house. Angel was inside getting a room, so the pair leaned back against he car and waited. Connor had been unusually quiet since they’d left the house, and Dawn knew he and Angel needed to talk. But she wanted to get back to the house and talk to Buffy, she and her sister hadn’t properly made up yet, but she wanted to know why Angel had suddenly packed his things and walked out, especially given what she knew about his health. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with Connor’s arrival, but she needed facts.

"Dawn?" Connor said quietly as he watched Angel come out of the office walk towards them.

"Hmm?"

"Why don’t you head back, talk to your sister, I want to talk to Dad."

"How will you get back?"

"I’ve slept rough in this city, I think I can survive a walk." Dawn shot him a curious look, and he shrugged. "The longer part of a long story, I’ll tell you later."

"You’re sure?"

"Yeah," he cupped her chin in his hand and gave her a soft kiss. Dawn smiled and took the keys from him, moving round to the driver’s side and getting in. By the time Angel reached them, she had the engine running and Angel frowned in confusion.

"Bye Angel!" She called cheerily through the window, before he could say anything, and drove out of the parking lot. Angel shot his son a confused look and Connor shrugged.

"We need to talk."

Part 4

Once Connor had helped him to his room with his bags, Angel collapsed onto the bed and looked up expectantly at his son. Connor was pacing, his earlier elation at seeing Angel alive had given way to other feelings, feelings that tied his head and heart in knots.

"You know, I’d really like to punch you right now," he said out of the blue, startling Angel. "But I won’t, you're human, and my fist would more than likely go right through you."

They both shuddered at the memory of when his fist had done exactly that, only to a being far less fragile than Angel.

"Why?" Angel spoke hoarsely, he hadn’t expected the anger, although he wasn’t sure why.

"I could ask you the same thing?" Connor shot back. "Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?"

"I thought it was for the best." Angel replied quietly.

"The best for who?" Connor faced Angel for the first time, and Angel gasped at the pain in the boys face.

"I…"

"Everything fell apart, and you weren’t there, but I didn’t blame you because I thought you were dead, but you weren’t! You were alive and you didn’t tell me!"

Angel got the strangest sense of déjà vu; for the second time that day, someone was yelling at him for keeping secrets. He hung his head, and for the second time that day, he wanted to find a deep hole and crawl into it.

"It's all gone you know.." Connor continued in a quieter tone. When Angel looked up at him he spoke again, "The Reillys, that life, it's all gone. Oh they’re alive, they just don’t know who I am anymore."

"What…?"

"After I came to see you, when you were fighting that tall guy, the one you bit."

"Hamilton." Angel said quietly and Connor nodded.

"I knew, I knew that the fight was gonna be huge and you weren’t coming back. So I went to my girlfriend's that night, I didn’t want to be alone, and the next morning I wake up because she’s screaming that she doesn’t know who I am. Says she’s going to call the police! Date rape! We’d been a couple since junior year! But it was all fake! And now she doesn’t remember! I went home and they attacked me! They thought I was an intruder! That entire life has gone! My college fund, my academic record, everyone I ever knew! Poof, nothing!" Connor was breathing heavily, the stress and pain of the last few months etched in every feature. Angel’s heart broke for his son, he looked so much like he had after his returned from Quar-toth, only less feral.

"The only people who know who I am are those I met after the spell! The only things on record for me are things that I did since May 2003! The only money I have is in the fund I suddenly found myself able to access after I thought you’d died!"

"I wanted you to be looked after, if I…"

"I didn’t need your money! I needed… I didn’t have a single person who knew me! No one could tell me why this had happened! I had to find all that out by myself!"

"I’m sorry." And he meant it. Angel had truly believed his son was better off thinking him dead. That it would sever the last ties the boy had, to the world that had almost destroyed him. Connor sighed and came to sit next to Angel on the large and reasonably clean motel bed, and buried his head in his hands, his fingers clutching at his still slightly long hair.

Clearing his throat in effort to shift the lump that was clogging it, Angel glanced over at his distressed son.

"What happened after that?"

"I took the money and ran. I needed to start again, so I went to New York and transferred to NYU. I had my transcripts, so they took me."

"You said you’d found out why?"

"I know a little, I went looking for information, and it sorta found me."

"Huh?"

"Lorne."

Angel blinked in surprise; he had no idea Lorne was in New York. That he had helped Connor was a shock. To be honest, the last time he’d spoken to Lorne about the boy, long before the spell, the green demon was more than a little terrified of his renegade son. Seeing Angel’s surprise and confusion, Connor chuckled.

"I’d given up looking, and I went into a bar, a demon bar, it was called Pietas, I thought it was ironic."

Angel snorted, ironic, yeah that was true. Pietas, Compassion, the name of a demon bar. Seeing that Angel had got the translation, Connor continued.

"It was a karaoke bar." He said, knowing this would get a reaction, and Angel didn’t disappoint, his head snapping up with a look of astonishment.

"Lorne started again, he said he would."

"Well he didn’t know me at first, which is what I expected since…"

"Everyone who didn’t know you before had forgotten." Angel finished for him.

"Yeah, so I make to back out of there, when he hits my arm, you know, like Lorne does…" Angel nodded; Lorne was always a very hands on demon. "The next thing I know he’s looking at me and I know he knows who I am. Then he starts muttering about arrogant vampires and evil hell spawn, and well that was all the confirmation I needed." Connor finished with a shrug.

Angel sat in silence for a while working through things in his head, before speaking. "So the trigger is contact?"

"For those who knew me before, yeah." Connor nodded

"So why not Dawn?"

"I thought about it. Either she never knew, or it's because most of her memories are false anyway."

Angel nodded; it made sense. He doubted Dawn hadn’t been aware of Connors existence before he’d changed everyone’s memories, but it was more likely that the false memories were a lot harder to shift because of the nature of her existence. Angel knew all about Dawn, Buffy had told him during brief his visit to Sunnydale after Joyce’s funeral. She had needed to unload her burdens, and he had been more than happy to accept that load while she grieved.

They sat in a strange silence for a while; it was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Neither quite knew what to say to the other, although they imagined conversations time and time again; now that the moment was here and the pressing issues had been covered, they were at a loss for words. Connor got up from the bed with a sigh and started to look around the room. The open curtains reminded him of details he hadn’t asked about.

"So… you’re human."

"Yeah." Angel replied quietly. Right now he didn’t feel like a 26 year old human male, he could almost imagine very year he’d been on the earth pressing down on his shoulders. He was tired, stressed and confused; too much had happened in too short an amount of time. He found himself longing for Wesley’s council; the Englishman had been capable of the kind of objectivity he had never mastered. True, Wesley’s ability to look at the big picture over the people in it had cost him his son the first time, but at various points in their relationship, the man had been his best friend. Angel looked up at Connor, not sure exactly what he wanted him to say; although he half expected the young man to ask why he couldn’t have waited to have him until this miraculous change in mortal status had occurred.

Connor looked Angel over, for the first time taking the time to note the differences between the three other versions of this man he knew. When he thought of Angel, there were three images that sprung to mind: the desperate, concerned face that had met him as he fell back into this world from Quar-toth. The weak and emaciated man who had been pulled from the sea, yet still possessed power and will beyond his comprehension. And finally the empty eyed suit he’d met at Wolfram and Heart. Although he could clearly picture Angelus, the illusion that they were the same man that Holtz had painted for him was shattered as soon as the caged soulless vampire had opened his mouth, or looked in his eyes. Since the spell had broken over the Reilly’s, he’d come to realise that the only real father he’d ever had, was the man that was now looking up at him, at a loss for anything to say. Yet he was the one he knew the least.

So he studied him, and the differences between him and the mental pictures he had. He looked at the still pale, but healthily hued face, the thinner body, the very human way he moved, breathed, and the eyes. The eyes that had looked empty at their last meeting, were now full of life, love and a whole world of other emotions that had been closed off before, even when he’d first come back. But he found no answers to his questions by just looking, so he had to ask.

"How?"

"A prophesy. It was my reward, my redemption." There was something in Angel’s tone, that made Connor quirk an eyebrow; he sounded like someone stating the party line, rather than waxing over his reward.

Angel chuckled, "Think gold watch and a good pension, only sunlight and an expiration date."

"They retired you?"

"Seems like."

" When?"

"After the big fight."

Connor frowned, by what he had seen he expected for Angel to say about a month ago. He didn’t look like someone who had been living a healthy human life for the last eight months. In fact on closer inspection, he looked a little peaky? He knew the story of Darla’s resurrection and how she had been very ill. Now he wondered if the same was true of Angel.

"Are you sick?"

Angel was taken aback by the question, in comparison with how he had looked two months go, he looked the paragon of health. He knew he had to get out in the sun more; he was still very pale for someone who had lived in California for the last decade, but unsurprisingly, he hadn’t thought much about going out and tanning. He was feeling the strain of the last few hours, and having had very little sleep the last couple of days was surely taking its toll. But for him to look bad enough for Connor to notice was unnerving. His fatherly instinct was to shield his son from his problems, but when Angel looked up at the young man, he couldn’t lie. He’d lied to too many people too often of late.

"I was."

"Was?" Connor asked with a scowl.

"My heart didn’t like the change, I needed surgery, I had it a month ago."

"But you're good now?" Angel studied the boy's face, seeing the worry that Connor was trying hide, and felt an odd pang of love and dread. He didn’t want his son to worry, but on the other hand, knowing that his son was worried about him gave him hope for their reconciliation.

"I’m better, it’ll be while before good, but I’m a lot better than before." He responded honestly.

Connor couldn’t hide his relief, no matter how hard he tried.

**********************************************************************************************

Much like their conversations, their goodbyes were strained and awkward. Angel couldn’t help but feel that despite the tension, it had been the most civil and insightful conversation they’d ever shared. To be reunited with his son was something he hadn’t even dared hope for, for a long time. They were still strangers, but they had a chance at rebuilding the relationship they both craved. Angel knew he had a lot o make up for, but Connor seemed more receptive now. His time with the Reilly’s and the memories he still carried of that time seemed to have mellowed him, providing the balance against what Angel was sure were horrific memories of Quar-toth.

It was a reassurance that he had made the right decision, to give up his son to a normal life, but it didn’t alleviate the guilt. Connor hadn’t said it in words, but the knowledge was there all the same; his son had needed him and he hadn’t been there. Well he was here now, and as long as Connor wanted him in his life, he would do anything in his power to remain there.

That might be easier said than done with his son so obviously falling in love with Dawn. Buffy had made her feelings about his deception quite clear, he didn’t think Dawn would let her sister decide who she could date, but if Buffy chose to be difficult, he would back off. He knew better than anyone how it felt to be pulled away from the one you loved because their loved ones didn’t approve. If the only way Buffy would approve was to sweep Connor's paternity under the rug, then so be it.

Angel leapt from the bed and paced. No, since when had he reverted to a whipped puppy? He’d grown out of that a long time ago. He would not kowtow, Connor was his son, he wouldn’t give him up again for the world. Buffy had every right to be angry with him, but he wouldn’t let her control his life and who he saw. Angel’s anger at himself grew at the thought. He’d reverted to old habits, bowed to her wishes with out a second thought.

He was past that, he’d let her have complete control over his life in that last year in Sunnydale. He’d grown totally dependant on her, lived his life through her, and in so doing had got them both into the habit. Truth be told he’d always had a tiny but powerful blonde girl telling him what to do, but he’d lead an independent life for nearly 6 years and he wasn’t about to give it up. Buffy had every right to be mad at him, but he wouldn’t separate himself from his friends, his family.

But he knew why he’d left, why he had fallen back on bad habits. Fear, when she had raised that photo frame he’d been afraid. He saw it in her face, that she’d forgotten his humanity, and she had every intention of causing him physical harm. Not that he would have tolerated her raising her hand to him had he still been a vampire, but a slayer against a human were really bad odds. It was a shocking feeling, to be afraid of the one you love. She’d only ever raised her hand to him once, during that awful visit when she was following Faith. But he’d listened to talk about the violence of her relationship with Spike. He knew all the reasons she had, but there was a part of him that had reared its head when she grabbed the photo frame. as much as his heart rebelled against the thought of Buffy as an abuser, she said it herself that she had been with Spike. Spike had been in her heart, and he hoped he was still there too, so where did that leave him?

He continued to pace, he hadn’t lost sight of the fact that he was in the wrong, or that she hadn’t lashed out in the end. He should have told her about Connor when he had the chance, and she shouldn’t have lost it so badly, not that he blamed her for her feelings.

Despite all his internal musings on the topic, he knew he wouldn’t go back tonight. He needed to clear his head. With Dawn and Connor there, he was sure the place was bedlam. Once the others found out about Connor, which the surely would, he wasn’t sure he’d be welcome there at all, at least not for a while. He would go back and explain his side, but not tonight. The room was too small and his frustration grew; he needed to calm down and think clearly. And being stuck in a tiny motel room wasn’t helping. But where once he would just walk for hours, he knew he couldn’t do that either, pacing for 15 minutes had him worn out.

Glancing out of the window, he stopped. Something his mother said, so very long ago, suddenly sounded in his head and he grabbed his jacket and his room key.

‘Who else better to ask for guidance, than the one who knows everything?’

Part 5

Buffy stood staring at the remnants of the photo frame lying on the floor, her eyes flicked up at the slight dent in the wall which was at exactly the place angel’s head would have been, if he’d been standing only slightly to the left when she’d thrown it. She wasn’t sure how long ago that had been. It could have been mere moments or hours. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the floor in a heap, she felt sick, she felt like she needed to kill something. She was too angry to cry, the rage that had suffused her system had lessened, but she still practically shook with it. What was it with the men in her life betraying her? Did she have gullible tattooed to her forehead or something?

She could hear Angel moving around in his room, but she didn’t regret telling him to leave, she wanted him gone, away from her sight as soon as humanly possible, or else she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions. When, a little while later, she heard the front door open and close, and a car pull out of the driveway, another realisation hit her. The house was empty; Angel, Dawn and Angel’s Hell spawn had left. Not that she cared that his son had left, but that Dawn had taken his side hurt, hurt more than she could imagine. Was this how her father felt when her mother walked out, with her and Dawn in tow?

She blinked at her own thoughts, but it wasn’t such a strange analogy when it came to her and Angel. God, they were twisted. What had she ever done to make Angel use magic on her to cover his secrets? What had she ever done, that made him feel he had the right to that kind of violation?

Her anger returned full force, and she dealt with the only way she knew how. Grabbing a stake from her dresser, she climbed out of her window and out into the early afternoon sun. Maybe she could find a nest somewhere.

**********************************************************************************************

Dawn sat in the study room of the old Summers house, idly flicking through a volume that had been left open on the table. She’d been back over an hour. When she’d arrived back at the house, her repeated attempts to get someone to answer the door were ignored, much to her frustration; so she’d gone around the back, found the kitchen door unlocked and gone in search of her sister.

Finding her sister’s door shut and locked, she’d tried knocking and calling out, but she’d gained no response. Normally she would have persisted, but she and Buffy were too estranged now for her to push her luck, when her sister was obviously very upset. So, she was resolved to wait, either until Connor returned and they could find a place to stay (she had no intension of staying in a house where Connor might not be welcome), or for Willow to come home. Out of everybody who was living in the house that had been her home for the first 9 years of her life, Willow was the only one she could think of that could reach her sister when she was in this kind of mood. Well, there was Angel, but as he was the cause of her rage, she didn’t feel like playing with fire.

Scowling she rotated the book she was looking at, trying to make sense of the image on the page, when that failed she turned it another way and her eyes widened.

"EWWWW." She screwed her face up in disgust, just as she heard someone opening the front door. Flipping the book shut and turning bright red, she called back, after they called out to see if any one was home.

"In here."

A huge smile blossomed on her face and it was reciprocated when the new arrivals stepped into the room.

"Dawnie!" Willow squealed, as Faith just nodded and smirked. Dawn gladly stepped into the hug the redhead offered, and pulled her close in return. She’d missed everyone while she’d been in New York. Willow pulled back and smiled.

"What are you doing here? Not that you’re not welcome. Oh we need to make you up somewhere to sleep, coz I have your old room, you can have it back if you want…"

"Willow! I don’t think I’ll be staying here." Dawn said seriously, snapping Willow out of her babble.

"Coz of B?" Faith chimed in, from her spot leaning against the doorframe.

"Sorta, it’s a long story,"

"What’s a long story?" Came a voice from behind Faith, "And leave a brother out side why don’t you?"

"Shit, sorry Gunn" Faith said spinning round, she had meant to go back out and help Gunn get his chair over the path, the crazy paving made it extremely hard work for him to wheel himself to the front door.

"Nahh, its cool, so you guys gonna introduce the cutie?"

"OH! Right, Gunn this is Dawn, Buffy’s sister. Dawn this is Charles Gunn, he used to work for Angel." Willow made the introductions, while at the same time herding everyone through to the kitchen, she was hungry but she also wanted to chat to Dawn. When they got there, she started to rummage through the fridge, before faith barged her out of the way. "So Dawnie, how come you’re here?"

"My boyfriend needed to pick up some stuff from an old roommate, so we both came down, I wanted to introduce him."

"Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends, squirt?" Faith said around a mouthful of left over pizza, while looking around the room with a frown.

"He’s real," Dawn huffed back, then paused, she didn’t really want to tell the others where he was or why, that was his story to tell, or Angel’s. "He’s ahh…"

Just then the doorbell rang and she sighed with relief, ‘saved by the bell… literally.’

"That’s probably him now." Spinning on her heal she rushed out of the room.

"Is it just me or is she a little twitchy?" Gunn spoke up.

No one replied, as Dawn chose that moment to re-entered the room, dragging a young man behind her.

"Everyone, this is Connor." She stated proudly, Connor just looked mildly stunned at having been grabbed by the shirt, the moment the door opened and dragged inside. Glancing around the room, he swallowed stiffly, all three of what should be new faces in the room, he knew; only they didn’t know him. ‘Oh this is gonna be fun.’

"Hi, I’m Gunn," the black man spoke first, extending his hand in greeting. Connor stepped back from the gesture. He’d had a long afternoon; he wasn’t ready to have more people asking questions just yet. Dawn frowned at him but seeing the look in his eyes, quickly caught on. When they’d spoken earlier, he’d told her about his contact theory, and since Gunn used to work for Angel, it made sense that he would have known who Connor was. Although she was sympathetic, having a boyfriend who appeared to be rude was going to be difficult on its own, but with Buffy knowing who Connor was, it was a little late for damage control.

"Shake his hand!" she hissed as quietly as she could, knowing he would hear her. Connor went to argue, but saw the determination in her face. The whole exchange had taken a fraction of a second and just as Gunn went to lower his hand with a frown, Connor stepped forward and clasped it in his, praying that Dawn knew what she was doing. Gunn jerked back as if the touch had burnt him and then he dropped his head in his hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to ride out the barrage of images.

Dawn looked to Connor panicked, as the others in the room rushed to help Gunn; shooting the young man furious looks.

"Exactly how well did he know you?" Dawn yelped.

"He was there when I was born!" Connor hissed back. Stunned at the man’s reaction to his touch, but not overly so, considering that apart from Angel and Cordelia, Gunn had had the most contact with him.

"What the hell is going on?" Willow growled, but Gunn waved her and others off. Regaining his composure, he looked up at Connor squarely; his Jaw set, his posture threatening, despite his being in a wheelchair. A part of him registered that it was a futile effort; the boy could have kicked his ass 5 ways from Sunday, even before he’d lost his legs. Connor dropped his eyes and toed the floor, not entirely sure what to say. He knew his last meeting with Gunn had been far from pleasant, and he knew now, with the influence of the false memories guiding his moral structure, rather than the values handed to him by an insane demon hunter in hell, that a lot of what he had done to Angel and his family had been beyond treacherous.

"You gonna explain how come I just remembered who you are?" Gunn gritted, he knew that what he had just experienced, was the regaining of true memories and dispelling of false ones. He wasn’t sure how he knew, he just did. Years that he had thought scrambled because of the enhancements he’d received, had come rushing back, and now he found himself facing Angel’s son.

"There was a spell…" Connor mumbled.

"Yeah I got that, what was it, a final gift from Jasmine?" Gunn snapped.

"NO!" Connor yelped, truly shocked by the suggestion.

"Then who?"

The others in the room watched as Connor struggled to answer. They had no idea how hard it was for him to answer this. Part of Connor, the same part that had worried over Angel’s sickly appearance, didn’t want to get his father into any more trouble. Connor felt a hand resting on his arm, and looked up into the concerned, but supportive eyes of his girlfriend. Dawn offered him a reassuring smile that told him all he needed to know. ‘Tell them, they’ll understand, I trust you.’

"Angel did it." He said quietly, gripping Dawn’s hand like a lifeline.

Gunn blinked and gaped. "What?"

"He wanted me to have a new life… he didn’t want me to remember…" Connor trailed off with a shrug. Gunn stared at the boy with dawning understanding. Angel always put his boy first; it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would mess with peoples heads to protect his son. An incident, involving a pentagram they never did mange to get off the floor, sprang to mind, and the last pieces of the puzzle came together.

"Wolfram and Hart, you were the deal… I always thought it was Cordy, but it was you." Connor looked back at Gunn blankly, a look that was mirrored by the other occupants of the room. Gunn whistled through his teeth and shook his head. Glancing up, he caught the looks the others were giving him and shrugged. "I never bought the evil from within story Angel fed us, I figured they made a deal, and it was for Cordy. But it wasn’t, it was for Connor, Angel’s kid gets a new life, Wolfram and Hart get Angel and we followed like sheep."

"Huh?" Faith said succinctly, having gotten lost around the time Gunn started glaring at Dawn’s boyfriend. Willow seemed to fairing little better, she staring at Connor, Dawn and Gunn, like they were talking in riddles, her face a mixture of frustrated curiosity and down right confusion. Dawn looked back at the others in the room when faith spoke, and for the first time realised that they’d been left totally in the dark. The two men followed her look and Connor toed the carpet before speaking.

"Maybe I should…" He trailed off his hand raised as clear indication of intent.

"Whoa!" Faith reared back "No ones doing any freaky mojo on me!"

"Uh huh! What she said!" Willow replied, ignoring the incredulous look Dawn shot her.

"Ladies! Chill, its cool, and there ain’t no way I’m gonna try and explain this all to y’all. Trust me, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but let the boy touch you." Gunn said, turning his chair to face the girls.

Shaking her head ruefully, Faith stepped forwards. "Tell you what Charlie boy, if he turns me into something freaky? I’m so gonna kick your ass."

**********************************************************************************************

Angel stood, looking up at the large doors in front of him. He could feel the differences even from outside. There was no desire to flee, no feeling of his blood trying to crawl from his veins, no weakness, no dizziness. It could be any other building in the world, yet he knew that just 12 months ago, standing where he was, would have taken a considerable amount of effort.

Despite his lack of physical resistance to entering, mentally he was not quite so prepared. He wanted solace, to beg for answers; he knew in his gut that there was no better place for him to find the peace of mind he needed to confront the problems that lay ahead. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, and entered the church.

The moment he stepped over the threshold, he let out the breath he’d been holding in a rush of relief. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him had been expecting to be denied access, to be met with a threshold barrier, the likes of which, had kept him from peoples homes for more than two centuries.

It wasn’t an impressive building, old by LA standards, neo gothic with traditional yet modest interior decoration; but to Angel, it may have been the Sistine chapel, for all the significance it held. As a boy his faith had been the centre of his world, as it had been for most people born when and where he had. Born and raised an Irish Roman Catholic, he had spent many hours in church. Sitting patiently waiting for his mother as she recounted her sins in confessional, Sunday morning mass with the whole family, and daily prayers in the chapel at the church school his father had sent him to, being one of the lucky ones to have a family wealthy enough to have their children educated. It was only in his late teens that he and the church fell out of favour with each other.

Life had already begun its downward slide for the adolescent Liam, and his relationship with his father had already decayed beyond repair, when after a particularly intense drinking session, he and a group of local youths had set out to break into the parish church. Disillusioned with a god that would allow his life to become what it had, he’d scoffed at the others when, after breaking in, they had fled, fearing the repercussions of such blasphemy. So he had gone on alone and had been caught, britches around his ankles, peeing behind the altar. After that he had been publicly dishonoured, barred from the church and had spent a week in the stocks. He’d been lucky his father had intervened on his behalf with the Magistrate, for if the villagers had had their way, he would have faced the gallows. He didn’t step foot inside a church again, with good intent, until after the restoration of his soul. But By then it was too late, and he was forever denied the comfort of his god.

Or so he thought, but now he was human, and so far he had not been cast out of this holy place. The restoration of his soul had also restored his faith, and many a long night had been spent, debating the possibility that his turning his back on the church, had been the reason for his turning, that had he kept true to his faith, he never would have been in that alley to meet Darla. Had god punished him for his blasphemy, by making him a demon? It didn’t sound that trite to a person who was raised in 18th century Ireland.

The true affirmation had come, when whistler had come to him, speaking of the powers that be. Since then, and although he had never voiced it, he had believed them and his god to be one and the same. His god had given him the chance to make amends, and although it was under the guise of another entity, he had faith. It wasn’t such a stretch of the imagination, for one who had seen as much as he. It had been while he was in India, without his soul, that he had come to the realisation that all religions were the same, the people worshipped the same entities, only under different names.

Angel shook himself, he’d become lost in memories, but that wasn’t why he was here. No, he had come to this place of worship to contemplate the future, to find something inside himself that would give him the strength to face the challenges ahead. Steeling himself against the universe waking up and realising he wasn’t welcome, he crossed himself with holy water and took a seat in the last pew.

The familiar rhythms of the first 17 years of his life, returned like an old friend, and he found himself reciting age old Latin prayers. Closing his eyes he let the sense of peace settle over him, he was sat in a church, and he was welcome.

Part 6

Buffy stalked the tunnels below the city like the predator she was. Anger fuelled her, made her fists itch for the feel of flesh on flesh. The slayer in her was screaming for the kill, primal and base, it made her skin feel tight and her jaw clench. She’d been walking for quite awhile, but as yet had not come across a single demon. Well, except one, but even through the red haze of rage, she could tell it was about as harmful as a puppy, and had swiftly moved on, before the temptation to kill it anyway got the better of her.

All the while, as she walked, her mind whirled with the events of the afternoon and their implications. The sense of betrayal seemed to have wrapped itself around her heart like an insidious serpent, squeezing all the charity and compassion from her as the seconds ticked by. Why? Why had he done this thing to her? Why had he lied? Why had he raped her mind? Why was it always like this between them? Once, just once, she wanted things to be easy between her and Angel, was that too much to hope for?

Of course it was, and she couldn’t even blame the Powers, or fate, or destiny or any of the other outside forces she’d blamed in the past. Because it wasn’t them, but HIM. He had done this; he had thrown their love away again. She’d bared her soul to him, and he mocked that ultimate trust by lying to her.

A son, Angel had a son. A child he’d had with another woman, with Darla. Darla of all people! The vapid, vampire whore, who’d tried to kill her, and her loved ones. Who’d terrorised Sunnydale before she arrived, and the rest of the world for four hundred years before she’d been born.

A well-known sensation trickled down her spine, and an evil grin spread across her face. When the vampire turned the corner, it didn’t even get a chance to express its surprise, before it was set upon by a royally pissed off slayer.

**********************************************************************************************

He wouldn’t have called it brooding, but it was certainly deep contemplation. Angel sat quietly at the back of the church, his mind going a mile a minute. His prayers before had had one very clear theme: forgiveness, most notably, Buffy’s forgiveness. Could she forgive this time? ‘You’ve pulled some crap in your time Angel, but this really takes the piss,’ Angel chuckled bitterly at how true that statement really was.

A lot of the pain he’d caused in their relationship, was either beyond his control (Angelus) or done with the best intentions at heart (leaving her). Neither the lack of soul, or his overactive martyr complex could be used as excuses this time. He had wronged her, knowingly, if not deliberately. With every missed opportunity to share this deepest of secrets, he had hammered another nail into the coffin of their fledgling romance. His only hope now was that he could find a way to pry open that coffin, and rescue their love, before it was dead and buried.

The snort of derision that issued forth at that morbid analogy echoed loudly in the cavernous church. Sometimes, he really wondered if he was human at all, when his thoughts could turn so graphically dark so very easily. With a sigh, he turned his thoughts back to the matter at hand, how to salvage his relationship with Buffy. Buffy, gods, he loved her so much, had always loved her, would never stop. But somehow he always seemed to be able to mess it up. Why? Why couldn’t he, just once, do something right? Why hadn’t he trusted her with the knowledge of his son’s existence? Why hadn’t he continued his story when the time had been right? What was he so very afraid of?

Angel lifted his eyes to the large crucifix above the altar. Well, he didn’t fear that now, but now as he stared at it, he found it brought no answers to the questions that plagued him.

"I guess Mother was wrong, you don’t have all the answers." He whispered morosely.

"Maybe you’re asking the wrong questions?" Angel jumped at the voice that came from behind him, and turned in alarm to the speaker. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you."

Angel looked up into a pair on kind blue eyes, set into an even kinder looking face. His eyes flicked to the dog collar and cassock. He dropped his gaze completely, scared that perhaps the priest had come to extricate him from the church, that he was not as welcome as he had assumed. The priest offered him a small smile, and came around to sit beside him in the pew.

"Do you mind?" The father said, indicating the space at Angel’s side. Angel frowned but shook his head, and the priest sat extending a hand. "Father O’Neil."

"Angel," Angel replied quietly, shaking the man’s hand, before facing forward again.

"I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I often find that those who spend five hours sat at the back of the church, are either deeply troubled, or in need of a place to stay out of the cold." There was small pause before the father continued, "And by your earlier statement, I assume it’s the former."

"Hmmm," Angel’s response was noncommittal, he was unsure how to talk to this man, the last priest he’d talked to had called him an abomination after seeing his hands burn when they came in contact with a cross.

"Perhaps I can help you find the right questions to ask?" Angel turned his head to look at the priest once more. He was in his late forties by the look of things, receding white hair, and prominent laughter lines. He spoke with the barest hint of an Irish accent, and Angel found himself compelled to trust him. "Matters of the heart are always tricky in my experience."

Angel jerked back in shock at the astute comment, and the priest chuckled.

"Call it an educated guess, you have that look."

"Oh." Was all Angel could think to say in response.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Angel spoke, as if the man’s presence pulled the words from him against his own will.

"I hid something from my girlfriend, and now she’s found out, I don’t know if she can forgive me."

"I take it she took the news badly."

Angel let out a wry chuckle. "She threw stuff at me."

"Ah," There was pause, "Was she wrong to be upset?"

"No," Angel said quickly, that was an easy question to answer.

"This thing you hid, is that what upset her? Or that you hid it from her?"

"A little of both I should think," Angel let out a long sigh, "I wanted to tell her, I just didn’t know how."

"What were you afraid of?"

"I wasn’t…" Angel trailed off, hearing the lie before it was even completed. "I didn’t want to lose her."

"Yet by hiding it from her, you’ve lost her anyway?"

"I don’t know, maybe, she’s… upset right now."

"As are you."

"It’s… complicated." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the priest nod sagely.

There was another long pause, and once gain, Angel found himself baring his soul before this man he didn’t even know, as if against his conscious will.

"I have a son, his mother… she was a… rival I suppose is the right word… She died… my son… he went to live with another family… I never expected… I didn’t see the need…"

"Which do you think your girlfriend objects to most? The child’s existence, his mother or your deceit?"

"Does it matter?" Angel asked incredulously

"I think it’s rather the crux of it actually. The child is without fault, her own feelings about the boy’s mother are HER issues, but your deceit is yours"

Angel nodded, what the priest had said was true. "Buffy… My girlfriend, and I were together in the past… before I had my son… one of the reasons we parted was because I couldn’t have children…"

"From your tone, I take it that the decision to leave was yours, not hers?" Angel merely nodded. "Hmmm, well that certainly does make things messy."

Angel snorted.

"Sorry, not helpful."

"I don’t know what to do."

"Well the best I can advise, is that you talk to her, when you’re both calmer." Father O’Neil glanced and his watched and let out a surprised ‘hmpf’ "Please excuse me but it's nearly time for mass, I wish you luck with your young lady."

"Mass?" Angel frowned; it must have been nearing midnight if he had really been there for 5 hours.

"Our congregation is very fond of their Sunday mornings. They prefer a midnight mass on a Saturday." The priest chuckled, "I know for a fact that most of what I hear in the confessional, happens after the younger ones leave here to go to the clubs on Saturday nights."

Angel looked at him incredulously, causing the priest to laugh again.

"Please excuse me, I really should go, Mrs. Hernandez will have my head if we start late. But please, feel free to stay for the service."

"Thank you, Father." The priest nodded and patted Angel affectionately on the shoulder. They both knew Angel had been thanking him for more than just the invitation to stay for the service.

Angel didn’t return to his thoughts after the priest disappeared, instead he watched as people began to filter into the church. He watched with interest as they chatted, and greeted each other. He smiled at the sight of young children being dragged reluctantly to their seats, not really understanding why they couldn’t run around with their friends and explore this interesting building; it was reassuring that some things never really changed. He had to do a double take at the outfits some of the older teenagers were wearing; it certainly added credence to the father’s theory about their post mass activities.

Soon enough everyone was in their seats, and the familiar rhythms began again. Angel settled back into the old familiarity and found himself enjoying it. He listened raptly to the sermon, impressed at Father O’Neil command over his audience. Maybe he hadn’t found the answers he was looking for, but he felt a little more confident to approach the questions.

*****************************************************************************************

Punch, Kick, Duck, Kick, Kick, Punch, Block…

There were four of them.

Punch, Thrust, *Whoosh*

Make that three. Not very old, but old enough to not be fledglings anymore. Fat and strong off LA’s homeless. Buffy had heard their celebratory revelling as they ambled through the sewers, long before they sensed her presence. They were just what she was looking for, and she threw herself into the fray. She was playing with them, letting them close then dancing away, leaving painful injuries in her wake.

With each bow she dealt out, she felt her anger release and the red haze that had fogged her mind ease away. It was zen like how her mind could slip away as her body moved in the age old rhythms. It wasn’t exactly habit, more like a deep part of who she was. She could no more change the way she slayed, than Angel could suddenly become ‘Mr hey, here’s what I’m thinking’… Buffy stopped dead as the thought slammed into her mind, along with all its implications. Angel had spent the better part of his souled existence with no one else to trust other than himself. He was taciturn because he didn’t know how to interact. Long exposure to people had started to rid him of his reticence, but he still struggled to communicate his feelings, or expose vulnerable parts of himself. Angel had once told her that the truth was sometimes worse, at the time it had seemed like such a cop out. But she was older now, and now she could hear the implication behind the words. The truth was sometimes worse, not just for the ones hearing it, but for those saying it. It hadn’t been an act of deliberate callous deception, when he neglected to tell her, but one of fearful hesitance.

Her train of thought was abruptly cut short when a fist collided with her jaw. In the mere seconds her mind had been overwhelmed by clarity, the remaining vampires had regrouped and surged in for an attack. The force of the blow sent her reeling, and she collided with the course sewer wall. Her head connected with the brickwork, and her vision swam, but she righted herself with renewed vigour. When the vampires closed in around her, she met them with a steely gaze.

"Can we hurry this up please?"

"Getting tired slayer?" One taunted back causing Buffy to huff.

"Hardly, I just have better things to do right now." ‘Yeah like getting home to Angel, and maybe sorting this mess out.’

"Fighting us is the last thing you’ll ever do, Slayer." Another spouted cockily.

Buffy just rolled her eyes and launched herself at the nearest vampire, mumbling under her breath, "Now where have I heard that before?"

**********************************************************************************************

The silence in the sitting room of the old Summer’s house was oppressive. Willow and Faith sat on one couch, Gunn in his chair off to the side, and all three were facing Connor and Dawn, who were sat on the opposite couch. After Faith had shaken off the effects of Connor’s touch, she’d taken a minute to gape, then hurried Willow forward, unwilling to try and explain things herself, and knowing that Willow would need to see to believe the story anyway.

That had been half an hour ago. Once Willow too had had the effects of Wolfram and Hart’s spell reversed, they moved to the sitting room, and Connor had haltingly told the story as he knew it. He had to acknowledge that the motivations behind the spell, the exact deal Angel had struck, (if there even was one, he didn’t know,) were subjects he was clueless on. Gunn had filled in the bits and pieces he knew from the whole Connor - Angel saga, including the full story (as he knew it) of Connor’s birth and abduction. He refused to touch on the boy’s conception, and they had both acknowledged that some questions only Angel could answer.

Now the group had lapsed into an odd silence, the story coming to an abrupt end with Connor’s depiction of Angel actually killing him to put the spell in effect.

"Whoa," Faith finally broke the silence. "No wonder Angel looked stressed."

Willow nodded in agreement; they had both only seen a small snippet of the life Angel had erased, Faith’s a little longer than Willow’s.

"You… Right the way through…" Gunn mimed punching something very hard, a clear attempt to reenact Connor’s defeat of Jasmine. Connor nodded and Gunn shook his head. "Damn!"

The room elapsed into silence once more, the occupants each deep in thought. Willow frowned, then looked up and around the room, finally settling her gaze on Dawn.

"Where are Buffy and Angel?"

Now it was Dawn’s turn to frown, she hadn’t thought about her sister since her aborted effort to communicate with her earlier that afternoon. At least she knew where Angel was.

"Buffy’s in the process of having a breakdown, I think, and Angel’s at a motel a few block away." Gunn, Willow and Faith all stared at the young brunette, their faces masks of incredulity. Seeing their looks, she quickly tried to explain. "Buffy threw a hissy fit when she found out about Connor and locked herself in her room, Angel decided to give her some space, so he asked us to take him to a motel."

"B… But…" Willow stuttered. Angel wasn’t in her good books right now, it was true that she had plans to have strong words with the ex-vampire about using magic on people’s minds. (Willow had long ago convinced herself that the spell she placed on Tara, had been the beginning of the end for her happiness, and the catalyst for the events that resulted in the death of her lover.) Nevertheless, Angel was far from well enough to be on his own, especially if he was upset. Glancing at her companions, she saw they were in a similar frame of mind, as they all turned angry glares on the young couple in front of them. She was tempted to give the younger Summers sister a good tongue lashing for her thoughtlessness, when her thoughts turned to someone else who should have stopped Angel leaving, Buffy. As she concentrated on the blond slayer, it came as a startling revelation that she could not sense the slayers uniquely powerful aura in the house. Buffy wasn’t there.

Part 7

When Buffy limped back into the old Summers' house late that evening she couldn’t help the frown that settled over her features at the tense atmosphere. Coming in the back door, she spotted Robin, Xander and Willow sitting at the kitchen table, and whilst the men looked concerned but not overly stressed, Willow looked like a pressure cooker of nervous tension as she fiddled distractedly with the cordless phone.

"Hey guys… no please don’t tell there’s an apocalypse, I have enough to deal with right now without one of those." Buffy groaned.

At the sound of her voice, the room’s occupants turned to face her, and Xander stood up so fast his chair crashed to the ground behind him.

"BUFFY! Jeeze scare the hell outta us why don’t ya!" Buffy blinked at Xander’s outburst but was stopped from saying anything when a frantic Willow enveloped her in a hug.

"God, Buffy we were so worried!" Willow’s embrace had only loosened for a second when a second pair of arms, this time Xander’s came round her. Finally extricating herself from the duel embrace, Buffy looked between the pair in confusion. It had been a long time since she’d received such a reaction when coming back from unscheduled slayage, but then again, it had been a long time since she’d actually gone out to slay to let off steam; there just hadn’t been anything that upsetting to cause it recently. She was just about to comment on this, when she was cut off again by Willow grabbing her injured arm. "Oh god, you’re hurt!"

She let herself be lead to a chair, and watched in mute fascination as Willow fussed with the first aid kit. "Umm, Guys… I’m touched that you were worried and all, but really I’m fine. Just a couple of scratches, what’s with the uber stress?"

Willow looked up from the first aid kit with a contrite expression, and then sat down opposite the blond. "Well… Dawn was here earlier, with Connor, and she told us how upset you were when you found out about him, and that’s totally understandable, and well when we realised you weren’t in your room, we figured you’d gone out slaying, which is fine, 'cause you’re the slayer, but not recently, not like you can’t look after yourself, but if you were upset…"

Buffy’s eyebrows had begun to creep towards her hairline as Willow babbled, and had almost merged with it by the time the redhead trailed off with a slightly sheepish expression.

"I think what Wills here is trying to say is… from past experience, you're not always totally focused Buffy after a fight with the not so dead boy." Xander translated. "You were gone an awful long time Buff, we worry."

"Ah," Was all Buffy could think of to say in reply. After a second it sank in that Willow had mentioned Connor and she scowled. "So you know, I mean about Connor?"

"Yeah," Willow replied, offering her best friend a sympathetic look, "Big shock, and trust me, I’ll have few things to say to Angel when he gets back, but mostly we were concerned about you."

Buffy returned the smile the redhead sent her way, but once again it took a second for her brain to process what had been said, and once again a scowl settled on her features. Buffy’s mind began to whirl with panic. Angel had left not long before her; that meant he’d been out for hours. When she’d resolved to come home and hash out the problem, she’d just assumed he’d be there. And when Willow had mentioned that she’d seen both Dawn and Connor, she’d assumed Angel would have come back with them, but he hadn’t, so where in the hell was he?

"Willow, where’s Angel?"

Seeing the look of panic on her friend's face, the redhead was quick to reassure her.

"He’s fine, Dawn said that they dropped him off at a motel, he wanted to give you some space, not that I think it’s a good idea he’s out right now, but apparently he wasn’t feeling very welcome when he left." Now it was Buffy’s turn to look contrite as Willow gave her a stern look. "Faith’s calling him now."

"Good… that’s good, then he’ll come home and we can sort this out…." Buffy trailed off when Faith entered the room, a thoughtful expression etched on her face. Buffy rushed up to the brunette, demanding answers. "Well?"

"What? Oh right… no answer. He must have gone out or something. Left his cell behind, I’ll try again later. I’m sure he’s five by five," Faith said, but it was almost as if she was trying to convince herself of what she’d just said, rather than anyone else.

Buffy bit her lip, she had the sinking suspicion that, knowing her luck, especially when it came to Angel, something was terribly wrong.

**********************************************************************************************

Time was playing tricks on her, warping and distorting to make her world unbearable. Seconds ticked by like days, yet hours flew like minutes. As a new day approached, the tension in the house increased, and it didn’t help that Buffy could feel Faith’s hostile glare from the other side of the room. Hours had passed, yet no one could get in touch with Angel.

When Connor and Dawn had left, shortly before Buffy’s arrival, they’d neglected to mention which motel they’d left the ex vampire at, and all attempts to reach Dawn on her cell had failed. It appeared it wasn’t the finest hour for the virtues of cellular communication. It was frustrating and deeply disturbing. Where was he? Was he all right? Was he hurt? Buffy had a clear mental image of him laying on his motel room floor, having got too upset, yet couldn’t reach his meds in time. She tried to convince herself there was a rational explanation, that he’d left his phone on silent, that he didn’t want to talk to her fearing another vitriolic rant and was therefore ignoring any calls from the house. But a voice in the back of her head told her otherwise; he wouldn’t do that to Faith and Willow. His world didn’t begin and end with her anymore, and so he wouldn’t isolate himself after a fight.

Faith had been quick to point fingers, and Buffy could do little to defend herself.

**

2 Hours earlier

Faith threw the phone against he wall in frustration, as once again the ringing on the other end trailed off into a pre-recorded voice mail message.

"Damn it!!" Faith swung round violently to face the rest of the room. Honing in on Buffy she hissed, her fear for her best friend, manifesting as righteous fury. "YOU! This is your fault! You Knew! You knew he couldn’t handle stress, yet poor little Buffy, had to go off on one and upset him!"

"Faith I…" Buffy gaped at the brunette, not since the rouse to get information about the mayor, had she seen or heard such venom form her sister slayer.

"You what, B? Got all high and mighty coz he dared to have a life other than you? Dared to have secrets? New Flash Blondie! He isn’t your lap dog any more!"

"I know that!" Buffy hissed back, glaring at the brunette. She was trying not to loose her temper, she knew faith was worried, but the accusations cut deep.

Faith got right in Buffy’s face, her fists clenched at her sides, itching to vent her anger in a more physical way. "Really? And you proved that by…? What yelling? Blaming? Maybe you hit? Threw stuff? Not news that you’re not afraid to use your fist when you don’t get your way! Princess Buffy, queen of the hissy fit!"

"Oh this is cheap coming from you! Sorry Faith, but I don’t solve my problems with my fists!"

"Really? You wonna hit me… I can tell… maybe he ran coz he thought you’d hit him… wouldn’t be the first time!"

"At least I’ve never tried to kill him! Then again which of your friends haven’t you tried to kill?!" Buffy hissed, eyes narrowed.

"SEPARATE!" Willow shouted, and the two slayers found themselves pinned to opposite walls, still glaring daggers at each other. "Either you both shut up, or I’m going to mute you. Stop it, now, its not helping!"

Both girls yielded to Willow’s commanding tone, with one final angry look, they both nodded.

***

Now Buffy paced, her mind a mess of confusion and fear. She was well aware she’d overreacted. She was still hurt, but she had an inkling as to why he hadn’t told her. Now all she wanted was to pull him into her arms and make sure he was ok. Fear for his safety overwhelmed any anger she felt.

Turning, she scanned the room’s occupants. Robin sat with Faith I his lap, the brunette still shooting death glares in the blonde’s direction. Buffy understood that Faith needed a focus for her fear; Buffy wished she had one too, but all she had was herself. Willow was the only other person in the room, Gunn had left with Connor and Dawn, and Xander had retreated upstairs, stating that, yes he was worried, but since he had to work, he would rather be worried with his eyes closed in a comfy bed than in a room with a lot of angry people. Buffy could tell from the set of the redhead’s jaw that Willow was far from as calm as she outwardly would appear. She was hunched over her laptop, trying to feel useful, trying to find a trace on where Angel was on the net. Sadly, the credit card records hadn’t come up with anything, so she was vainly searching hotel computers. They all knew it was fruitless, the likely hood being that the motel had computer records, or that if it did the computer they were using was connected to the net, were slim.

The truth of the matter was that they were all waiting for the phone to ring, either Angel or Dawn calling back in response to the numerous voice mails that had been left. All suggestion that they simply go out and look had been vetoed, and Buffy knew they were right; it would be a little pointless. LA was a huge city. She didn’t have the faintest clue where to start looking.

As the hall clock chimed midnight, Buffy’s eyes caught Faith’s and Buffy knew the threat had just gone from bodily harm to death.

**********************************************************************************************

As the service drew to a close, Angel remained in his seat as people filtered past and out into the night. He wasn’t sure why he was reluctant to leave. Maybe it was the peace that the church offered, or maybe he was just desperately clinging to the escape from his problems. Either way soon he was the last one in the church, and feeling a little conspicuous, he stood to leave.

Much like before, the priest was there, yet he hadn’t heard or seen him approach. But this time the man’s face was slightly hard around the edges. He seemed to be contemplating something, and after a moment he spoke.

"Angel right?"

Angel nodded; slightly unnerved by the look the older looking man was giving him. The priest pursed his lips and seemed to study his face in minute detail. Then he delved into his pocket and pulled something out of it, a small rectangle of slightly battered card with a stylised angel on the front. Catching Angel’s eye, he spoke clearly.

"Do you believe in vampires, Angelus?"

**********************************************************************************************

Angel studied the book in front of him, running his fingers over the picture on the page, lightly tracing the features of the people in it. After the priest had almost knocked him off his feet with by using his demon’s name, he’d been lead to the vestry and given a seat, too stunned to protest. Father O’Neil had taken a book and opened it in front of him to the page with the very old photograph.

Now the father watched Angel from his position leaning against the sideboard, a glass of whiskey in hand. He studied him curiously for a minute, before clearing his throat and approaching the table.

"It didn’t click at first, well I recognised your face, I couldn’t place where from. You are him aren’t you?"

Angel didn’t look up, just nodded. He could feel his heart pounding, and he willed himself to calm down, but it wasn’t easy. He felt the priest move away, and heard the chink of glass as he refilled his tumbler. He tensed for the blow, for the priest to start cursing him, screaming at him, he could almost hear the words already, ‘How dare you desecrate this house of god!! DEMON!’ But the words never came; instead the priest continued talking in a mildly curious tone.

"You’re probably wondering how I know about vampires?" When Angel didn’t answer, the priest cocked his head on one side and continued regardless. "When I was training, the seminary was attacked, the leader was a vampire named Penn, I believe you’ve met."

"I’m sorry…" Angel said despite the lump in his throat, he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t understand the priest’s calm attitude. Coming to sit opposite him, the priest gave him a compassionate glance.

"Please, I didn’t ask you here because I wanted to make you feel bad. I heard about your soul, and now it seems you’ve gained humanity. I like to keep my ear to the ground. Churches are often made targets and it never hurts to keep a watchful eye for your congregation. So when I heard about you… I always wondered… A human soul, cut off from God’s grace by the shell it inhabits, where would such a soul turn to for comfort? Direction? And then here you are, in my church… I don’t know if you are man of faith but, I wanted make the offer anyway."

"The offer?" Angel repeated, defensively curious.

"To join our congregation."

"Oh," Angel replied, stunned by the offer. It came as the complete opposite of anything he expected the older looking man to say.

"The only reason I’m making the offer like this is… I wanted you to know that I knew who and what you once were, so if you needed an ear to bend. Or perhaps a priest who wouldn’t run screaming should you feel the need to come to confessional…" Father O’Neil trailed off with a raised eyebrow.

Angel smiled sheepishly, and looked down. But he couldn’t help the feelings that blossomed in his heart. He didn’t need to lie anymore, and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his over burdened soul.

**********************************************************************************************

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

The hall clock seemed to resound in Buffy’s ears as she sat on the couch in the sitting room, her head in her hands. Just a couple of minutes more, and that very clock would chime for 1am and Angel would have been missing for nine hours, nine long, anxious hours since anyone saw him. She felt like crying, she felt like screaming, but mostly she felt like hitting herself around the head with a big stick.

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Willow had long since given up on her computer search, but had been banned from and had returned to alternately calling Angel and calling Dawn, in the hope that at least one would answer. Every time she dialed, Buffy would stare holes in the back of her head, waiting on bated breath for her to say she’d got through. So far she’d had no luck.

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Just audible over the almost deafening sounds of the clock, Buffy could hear Faith pummeling the punch bag in the basement, venting her frustration the only way she knew how. Buffy found herself infinitely jealous of Faith being down there, but she couldn’t be there herself. Partly because putting Faith in the same room as Buffy with weapons at that moment would have lead to bloodshed, but mostly because Buffy didn’t want to stray to far from the phone.

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Buffy was about to throw caution to the wind and run out of the house when the phone rang. Diving from the couch, she failed to reach it before Willow picked up and then stood not two inches from the red head’s shoulder as she spoke.

"Hello?"

"Dawnie! Thank god! Where have you been?"

"FOR ALL THIS TIME?" Willow turned a bright shade of red, then mumbled, "Right vampire stamina…"

Buffy paled, but didn’t move away as Willow interrupted whatever Dawn was saying.

"Dawn, we really need to know where Angel is!" Willow scribbled something down on a bit of paper. And turned to Buffy only to find her already at the door, her coat half on.

A quick good-bye, a yell for Faith, and they were on their way.

**********************************************************************************************

Buffy had to fight back tears as she slammed her fist ineffectually against the door of Angel’s motel room. When they’d arrived, they hammered for ages on his door before Robin had suggested they get the manager to open it for them. Convincing the fat, balding and bio coated man, that they knew the occupant, that he had a heart condition and they were worried when he didn’t answer his phone had taken some time. But eventually he’d given in, only for them to find his room empty.

Now they were truly out of options, except for one, but no one really wanted to be the one to suggest they start calling hospitals to two obviously distressed slayers. Buffy suddenly straightened, sniffed and then silently left the room. Once outside she leant against the wall and tried to regain some composure.

"Buffy?"

Her head snapped up at the sound of her name, said in that special way that only one person could say it.

"Angel," It was barely a whisper. There he was, walking cautiously towards her across the motel parking lot, his coat wrapped around him to fight of the slight chill in the November air, his head cocked on one side as he studied her.

Stopping halfway across the asphalt, he bit his lip. Despite all that had transpired, all the revelations and reassurances, his time inside the church had yielded no answers as to the pressing issues in his life. The most important of which were Buffy and Connor. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, what mood she’d be in, or how to approach her, so he just waited. He didn’t wait long.

"ANGEL!" Buffy yelled in pure relief, after a second of stunned disbelief. Pushing off from the wall she belted across the lot towards him, throwing her arms around is neck and crushing to her when they met, and raining kisses on his face. Instinctually Angel wrapped his arms around her in return, staggering slightly with the force of the impact.

"Whoa."

"Oh god!" Buffy yelped, pulling back. "Where have you been!? I was so worried, you weren’t answering your phone, and we didn’t know where you were! God! You stupid, stupid man!"

Angel pulled further out of her embrace, confused and alarmed at her reaction. The last time they spoke it had been angry bitter words and harsh accusations, but his love looked close to tears of a different kind.

"I… I…" Angel stuttered hanging his head. He was exhausted; it had been a long hard day, filled with turbulent emotions and too many shocks to his weakened system. His plan had been to return to his motel room and sleep. He hadn’t planned to do much of anything until the next day. Glancing over his shoulder, and realising he was embarrassed by what he would say he coughed. "I was at the church."

"The church?" Buffy parroted incredulously, then followed his look to the building opposite. "You went to church… for 9 hours?"

"Seven, but yeah."

Buffy stepped back and ran her hand tiredly across her face. "Angel, come home… we can talk… but not now… GOD! I was so worried, we thought… I thought…"

"Hey…" Angel said, stepping closer and raising her chin so their eyes met. "I didn’t mean to worry you, I just… I thought you’d want some space after…"

"Not now..." Buffy stepped back once again, raising her hand as a clear signal for him to back off, too exhausted to deal with all their issues. When she hadn’t known if he was all right, the issues, the anger, the resentment, had been pushed aside. Now however, they returned full force, and combined with her exhaustion she just couldn’t offer the patience and understanding she’d planned earlier that evening. She wouldn’t shout or yell or repeat her rant from earlier, but they wouldn’t talk either. It was enough for her to know he was safe, for now.

Part 8

Buffy woke feeling nauseous. Since agreeing to wait until morning to talk properly, she and Angel hadn’t said another word to each other all the way home. Their conversation in the parking lot had been broken up when Willow and Faith had rushed from his room and across the lot to where they’d been standing. After berating Angel for not taking his phone, or telling anyone where he was going, they’d all piled into the car and drove home. The tension between the couple was obvious. The ride home and the consequent good nights had been subdued, everyone suffering from a sense of anticlimax after hours of frantic worry.

Buffy groaned and tucked her head under pillow, a leftover from childhood. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten how much angst there was involved with loving Angel. She wasn’t used to it, and after what was probably the most stressful and heart-wrenching weekend she’d had since her resurrection, she felt decidedly out of sorts. It didn’t help that she knew there’d be more tears before the day was out.

With a grown, she threw the pillow to the other side of the room and glanced at the clock. Blinking, it took a second to focus but when she did, she deeply regretted throwing her pillow away; it was past midday. She was prevented from debating whether to retrieve the pillow and go back to bed, or simply get up, by a knock at the door.

"Come in," Buffy grumbled, sitting up against the headboard. Angel poked his head around the door looking unsure and nervous.

"I uh…" His expression changed to that of a frown and chewed his lip before continuing. "Can I come in? I can come back… when you’re dressed if you want…"

Buffy halted his ramble with a sigh, "Come in Angel."

Pushing open the door, Angel crossed the large room as Buffy instinctually made room for him on the end of the bed. Taking the invitation to sit down, Angel perched nervously, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry." He said, then raised his eyes to hers. "I don’t know what else to say to you."

Buffy took a deep breath, and with a jolt she realised that this was one of those make or break moments in their relationship. So far, they’d come through each one that had been thrown at them still in love, though not always happy, and she could only pray they’d she’d be both by the end of their conversation.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Buffy’s voice was deceptively calm.

Angel took a moment to carefully consider how to answer the question, then swallowed thickly before speaking. "I wanted to, I guess… I guess I didn’t know how."

"Can you tell me now? Everything? The whole story?"

Angel bit his lip and nodded. Haltingly at first, he began his tale. From Darla’s arrival through Connor’s birth, life, and kidnapping. As he spoke the dam opened, long held back emotions burst free and tears streaked down his face. It wasn’t long before they’d moved on the bed so that Buffy could cradle him to her side, soothing him through the emotional barrage.

Buffy found herself feeling his anger right along with him as he talked about Wesley’s betrayal. She gasped in horror as he spoke of being dumped into the ocean. She laughed with him as he talked of how wonderful those first months of fatherhood had been and she ached for his loss. Holes in the stories he’d told of the last few years were slowly being filled as he spoke. The story of the Beast, Cordelia, Angelus and Jasmine suddenly made some semblance of sense.

She’d never seen him let go like this, and after a moment of worry and confusion she realised he was finally grieving properly. For Connor’s loss twice, for the victims of Angelus in those few days he’d been loose. For Cordelia, for Wesley, for Fred and for Spike, even for Darla. He was finally shedding the tears he hadn’t let fall in front of his friends, tears he’d held back for three years. Through stuttering hiccupped sobs he came to end of his tale, a tale that was also the end of Wolfram and Hart.

"I’m sorry… I’m sorry… god I killed them, I killed them for my son, and it didn’t help!" Buffy pulled him closer as he howled his grief into her chest, her own tears staining her face and wetting his hair.

"Shhh, it's ok… shhh… you didn’t kill anyone Angel… you did the right thing…shhh honey… I got you… just let go… I’m here." Buffy thought to worry for his heart, but figured that they’d deal if something happened; in the long run it was better to let him cry. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into a pair of compassionate green eyes, Willow. She gave Buffy a nod of approval and shot sympathetic look in Angel’s direction, she knew what grief like this was like.

She placed a couple of bottles and a glass of water on the nightstand and turned to leave the room. Buffy nodded in thanks, returning her attention to the man in her arms. Angel hadn’t even noticed the redhead’s presence as he continued to sob. Long after Willow had left, Buffy was still holding him, rocking him, soothing him with meaningless words and soft caresses.

When Angel finally succumbed to sleep through emotional exhaustion, Buffy still didn’t let go, just tilted her head back against the headboard. Staring at the ceiling, she finally understood why he hadn’t told her, the pain radiating from him was almost tangible. If he’d feared she’d judge him, he’d been sorely mistaken; in fact, in that moment she couldn’t have loved him more.

Slipping from his now lax embrace, she stood from the bed and gazed down at his deceptively peaceful face. Laying a gentle kiss to his forehead, she thought back on all the heart wrenching conversations they’d had in the past, and how all the tears had been hers. Now maybe, they could really get somewhere.

**********************************************************************************************

Entering the kitchen, still in her pajamas, she smiled gratefully when Willow instantly passed her a cup of coffee. Taking a long sip, she sighed in pleasure as the caffeine and sugar boosted her diminished energy.

Sitting down at the kitchen table she noticed for the first time that both Willow and Faith’s eyes were slightly puffy, although Faith was hiding it better than Willow, by letting her hair hang over her face.

"How much did you hear?" Buffy inquired quietly.

"A bit, but we got most of the story from Connor and Gunn yesterday." Willow replied. Buffy nodded and looked down into her cup as if it held all the answers in the universe.

"How is he?" Faith asked just as quietly as Buffy had done. The blonde sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"He’s asleep, he’s been holding onto all that for so long…" Buffy trailed off and the girls nodded.

"How are *you*?" Willow said pointedly eliciting another sigh from the blonde.

"Tired? Yeah, tired works. I’ve never seen him break like that… I thought when he came back from Hell… but in a way this is worse… God, I feel like such a bitch for what I said to him yesterday."

"You had every right to be mad B," Faith said firmly. " and I kinda didn’t… I’m sorry I lost it like that… he’s like my big brother you know… and I don’t do worry well."

"Apology accepted, and to be honest, when it comes to Angel, I’m not so good at keeping in the crazies either." Buffy replied understandingly.

"Well slayer wars aside…" Willow said, pointedly sterringt he converstion back on track. "Faith was right about you having the right to be mad, he had no right to invade our minds like that."

"He knows, that’s why he couldn’t tell us, tell me. I think… in his own time he’ll make his apologies to all of us… but in the meantime, we need to be supportive. He so fragile… Wow, Angel and fragile, not two words I thought I’d out together again"

Once again the two other girls nodded.

**********************************************************************************************

Angel woke to the feeling of someone gently stroking the side of his face. Prying his eyes open, he looked up at Buffy, and she offered him a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hey," Angel shot back groggily, and tried to sit up. Grimacing he slumped, and Buffy reached out to help him. Once he was upright, she passed him the glass from the nightstand, and a couple of pills she’d had out already. Taking the offering he frowned, offering Buffy a curious look.

"Willow reminded me that you’d probably need those," Buffy said sheepishly.

"She keeps better track of when I need these than I do" Angel replied once he’d swallowed. They shared a small smile, but neither managed to be that successful.

"Feel any better?" Buffy asked softly after a second, shifting on the bed so Angel could lean on her again.

"Yeah," Angel replied equally soft. He almost purred as Buffy ran her fingers through his hair.

"Feel up to talking some more?" She didn’t wait for him respond before backtracked slightly. "We don’t have to, but if you feel up to it…"

"It's ok… there’s stuff we need to talk about."

"Connor…" She felt Angel stiffen slightly, and frowned. "Angel? We don’t have to…"

"What about Connor?" Buffy mentally shrugged; if Angel wanted to keep talking she wasn’t going to refuse.

"You guys talked so…?"

There was a pause before Angel replied, then a long sigh. "We’re going to try and work things out." He swallowed stiffly, "The spell, the new life… its all gone… I’m all he has…"

"I’m sure he doesn’t see it like that." Buffy interjected gently.

"I don’t know… but I’m not complaining… he’s my son… giving him up… it was like leaving you all over again."

Buffy held him tighter when he said that, if Angel had felt as she had after he left Sunnydale, then she knew the pain he spoke of. "You did the right thing."

They both frowned, neither sure if she was referring to him leaving her, or giving up Connor. Then Angel snorted. "No I didn’t, but maybe… maybe things will turn out for the best now…"

Now they both knew he was talking about both events. They remained in silnce for a while before Buffy spoke again.

"Angel…"

"Hmmm?"

"What I told you about Spike… do I… Do I disgust you?"

Angel sat up with a jolt and turned to face her, his face a mask of incredulity. "Disgust me?"

Buffy bit her lip and looked down, the insecurity that had almost drowned her a couple of days before returning full force. Angel took her chin in her hand and leant forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Never."

One word, but it meant the world to her. They shifted on the bed again, this time finding their positions reversed so that Buffy was leaning on him. To an outside observer, it would like Buffy was the fragile one, but they would see the way Angel gripped her to him, the way he was drawing strength from her.

"So no more secrets?" Buffy asked. Angel sighed, there was just one left. It had slipped his mind before, but laying on her bed, embraced as they were, the memories returned unbidden. "Angel?"

"There is… I… Do you remember when you came to visit that Thanksgiving?"

"yeah…?" Buffy replied suspiciously, she tried to move out of his embrace to face him, but tightened his hold on her and she gave in.

"It sorta happened twice… Buffy… the first time around… I didn’t kill the Morah, it got away… we tracked it… we split up… I fought it, its blood mixed with mine and made me mortal…" Buffy gasped but he shushed her. "Please… I have to say this… so… I met you on Santa Monica peer… we kissed in the sunlight… you just like I thought you would in sunlight… like an angel."

"What happened?" Buffy asked but she already had an inkling that she knew, a memory or a memory of memory from a time and place she tried hard to forget.

"We went back to my apartment… we talked and then… we made love for hours… it was heaven… or closest I’ve ever been." Buffy felt Angel’s body hitch beside her and she gripped him tighter. The images from that day rose in her mind, and she knew now that she’d known all along.

"You went off to fight Morah… then you gave it back." Buffy stated. Angel did release her then and turn to look at her.

"How?… when?… huh?"

"I saw this… when I was in Heaven… I saw this…" She said more to herself than Angel. "I thought it was just my mind playing tricks… so much I saw there was so unreal once I was back… but this… this happened?"

Angel bit his lip and nodded.

"You gave up humanity for me? I promised I’d never forget… and I did, then when I saw you in April… oh god." Tears rushed to her eyes unbidden and she buried her head in his chest. "I’m so sorry… I promised, and I did… oh god."

Angel gathered her close and buried his nose in her hair, his own tears returning.

"I’m sorry," he whispered.

Buffy pulled back and shook her head furiously "No… don’t be, you did it for me… you gave up your dream… for me… Never be sorry."

Neither could tell who started the kiss, but it was filled with long suppressed passion and longing. Breaking apart to breathe, Buffy looked him straight in the eye, saying something she’d wanted to say for far too long.

"I love you."

The final weight lifted from his ever-heavy heart. She still loved him, after all he’d said and done, she still loved him, not liked, not cared, but loved.

"I love you." The words tripped off his tongue, and they were the easiest and truest three words he’d ever spoken. Their lips came to together again, their passion flaring just as hot and bright as it had done so many years before. In a startling mirror of a dream they’d shared long ago, Buffy found her self straddling him on her knees, their hands roaming under clothing, eager to touch skin that had been so long denied.

Buffy went to pull Angel’s shirt from him, he reached up and grabbed her hands and stopped her. Baffled she scowled at him, but he just offered her a sheepish lopsided smile, and flicked his eyes over to the nightstand. Buffy turned to follow his look and caught a glimpse of the two pills bottles. She understood; once again there was something stopping them from fulfilling their greatest desire.

It bubbled in the throat and burst free before she could stop it. She giggled. Angel sat back stunned, then he too started to laugh. Soon they were both howling, the irony of their situation too funny for either of them to ignore.

Downstairs, Willow and Faith looked up at the ceiling as the sound of laughter drifted down from the upstairs. Sharing incredulous looks Willow sighed.

"Here we go again."

Epilogue

Buffy was tired, she’d just spent the entire day training with Gunn’s kids and she was wiped out. She’d no idea how good they really were. Dragging herself through the back door she had to smile. Well, it was a mixture between a grimace and a smile. At the sink doing dishes, was Angel. The radio was on and he was singing along with what was probably the worst singing voice she had ever heard.

When a man loves a woman

Can't keep his mind on nothing else

He'll trade the world

For the good thing he's found

If she's bad he can't see it

She can do no wrong

Turn his back on his best friend

If he put her down

She watched as his hips swayed to the sedate rhythm of the ballad. She’d always assumed that Angel was clueless about anything relating to pop culture, but much to her own surprise, she found that he’d actually followed it up until around the mid 70’s. He couldn’t tell Duran Duran from Spandow Ballets, or Britney Spears from Christina Aguilera. But he could hum (badly) the tune to any song by Smokey Robinson, and knew Manilow inside out.

When a man loves a woman

Spend his very last dime

Tryin' to hold on to what he needs

He'd give up all his comfort

Sleep out in the rain

If she said that's the way it ought to be

His taste in Music hadn’t been the only thing she’d unearthed about him over the last couple of weeks. It was like walls she’d never known existed had finally been breached, and she was seeing the real Angel for the very first time. She’d had no clue how truly shy he could be, or how easy it was to make him blush. She saw previously suppressed glimpses of the man he’d been before meeting Darla, his eyes occasionally coming alive with mischief.

Well, this man loves a woman

I gave you everything I had

Tryin' to hold on to your precious love

Baby, please don't treat me bad

Here was a man with many loves. The depth and all encompassing nature of his affection was unbelievable. She had always known that it took a tremendous amount to gain his trust and friendship, but she’d never known how deeply he cared for those he called friends. His stoic and uncompromising outward façade masking the depth of emotion he carried inside. She’d always seen the passion behind those dark eyes, but now she realised how much had been caged in an effort to cage the demon. His friends, his faith and his mission all sparking a fire in him that was almost overwhelming. He renewed his role as book guy with new vigour, delving deep into the Watcher’s diaries and pushing them in training like never before. He socialised with the others laughing and chatting in a way that she’d never really experienced, but could see Gunn was almost used to. He went to church, she and Faith walking him there before they patrolled and walking him back after the service ended, before heading out again in a new direction. But behind that she’d seen his desperate need for reassurance and comfort as he mourned his lost loved ones. She knew from experience that true mourning took time, and he’d only just started along that road to moving on.

When a man loves a woman

Down deep in his soul

She can bring him such misery

If she plays him for a fool

He's the last one to know

Lovin' eyes can't ever see

So while during the day, in front of the others, he remained strong, at night he would curl up in her arms and let her be the strong one. They talked for hours, sometimes about the issues between them, and sometimes about nothing really important at all. These talks had been revelatory on both sides. They had trust issues to deal with, there was pain on both sides, but they both knew this. They were getting there, slowly but surely they were returning to the kind of connection they once shared. Angel had even, somewhat hesitantly, admitted that he thought he could feel her again, and not long after, Buffy had felt the same tingle in her spine that heralded his closeness on her way home from patrol. It was a consensus between them, that they’d never been as close as they were now. Amazing how much talking could do for a relationship. The only thing now standing between them and their fondest desire, to become as physically close as they were emotionally, was his heart.

When a man loves a woman

He can do no wrong

He can never own some other girl

Yes when a man loves a woman

I know exactly how he feels

'Cause baby, baby, baby, you're my world

When a man loves…

As the song came to a close, Buffy began to clap and whistle, alerting Angel to her presence. Angel jumped and turned, shooting a glare in Buffy’s direction. He knew he couldn’t sing, she didn’t have to mock him about it.

"You’re funny."

"No really, that was quite impressive, I never knew you could sing," Buffy said with mock seriousness, but couldn’t keep a straight face and started to giggle. Angel just rolled his eyes and threw the dish cloth he was holding in the sink, before moving to pull her into his arms. Bending down he placed a light kiss on her lips.

"Good day?"

"Oh yeah… I managed to come out of there with my slayer pride intact… just. Those kids are tougher than you think… was Gunn like that?" Buffy question, but Angel had other things on his mind as he started to nibble on her earlobe.

"Hmmmm."

"Oohhhhmmmmm," Buffy moaned as he drifted from her ear and started to place kisses on the column of her throat. "Angel, Honey, you need to stop before you end up with an extremely worked up horny slayer on your hands."

"Promise?" Angel said as continued his assault.

"ANGEL! What’s got into you?" Buffy said pulling out of his grip and scowling at him. "It’s not fair to tease!"

"Who said I was teasing?" Angel shot back with a mischievous glint in his eye. Giving her a smirk he turned round went back to the sink. "But if you’re not interested…."

"OK… interested, you know I’m interested, but the doctors…"

"Cleared me for light to medium exercise at my appointment this morning." Angel cut her off.

Buffy blinked then felt like slapping herself, she’d completely forgotten he’d gone to the doctor's that morning. ‘light to medium?’ A slow smirk crept across her face just as she crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.

"So.. light to medium huh? Well I’m a demanding kinda girl, slayer and all…"

"Oh I have no plans to exert myself, I’m gonna let you do all the work"

"That so?" Buffy whispered huskily, running her hands down the front of his pants and stroking him through the denim.

"Oh yeah…" Angel sighed, pressing his hips forward.

Buffy snuck her hand out and grabbed a dishtowel from the side, then stepped away from him. Taking a couple of steps back she grinned and took aim.

Angel yelped as the towel flicked his backside, and spun round to face her. Buffy ran the towel through her hands like a silk scarf and crooked her finger at him, slowly backing out of the room.

Angel played along and stalked after her until she reached the bottom of the stairs. Stopping Buffy dropped the towel.

"Catch me if you can!" Buffy winked and sprinted up the stairs, Angel laughed out loud, and then followed. The laughter soon turned to moans of pleasure. All the while the radio continued to play in the kitchen.

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