Disclaimer: oh please, as if I even want to own them these days
Category: Angst/Drama
Pairing: B/A, mention of C/A, D/A, B/R
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), ffnet, several lists including BA_Fluff, if you have any of my stuff, just take it, anybody else please tell me where it goes
Spoilers: the whole Buffy-Angel-Saga, I have, however, not seen the latest episodes (I didn't want to be spoiled for another story I was writing), but it doesn't really matter for the story (I've heard rumours though), and you should read the first stories in the series called "Empty", "Frozen", and "Dawn".
Summary: Cordy comes to work at morning and finds something, she did (not) expect.
Timeline: a month after Connor disappeared
Feedback: oh yes, please!!!
Dedication: This is for the great ladies at Ducks babbleboard. I wouldn't make it through this without you!
Author's Note: I am a B/A-shipper, and in my book there's only one person who could help Angel in a situation like this. So if you are C/A or B/S, then just turn away now. You've been warned. And if you still want to send flames - send them on - I will forward them directly to Marti Noxon, David Greenwalt, and Joss Wheadon for what they're taking us through with this season.
Author's Note 2: I won't go into detail, but you still might get spoiled for season 6/3
Author's Note 3: For this story, Connor has disappeared and although the fang-gang has tried finding a way to get him back, all has been in vain.
And once more with the author's notes: Don't worry, I will continue all the other stories I'm currently writing. I promise. But I have the sudden urge to write this. I can't help it. It just pours out of me and so all I can do is go with the flow. < g >
Author's Note 5: I have neither seen the episode, nor read the transcript of the last Angel-episodes. I know Connor has been abducted, but I haven't read the details. And I only heard rumors about Cordy's vacation with Groo. Any faults because of it are mine, but as this story is mine, too, well … you get the point. I hope you'll enjoy nevertheless.

I hear their voices, but they seem far away, like whispers of ghosts, not real. The words that are spoken don't mean anything, they are like the wind blowing through leaves during autumn, touching them, still merely passing by. As soon as it's gone, it doesn't mean anything, unless the leaves are falling down, meeting the ground and their end.

I'm completely aware that these are morbid thoughts going through my head while my friends talk near by, but I don't care. Death is my second nature, is part of my being, and for over hundred years it was part of me, and although I'm not part of the active-killing vampire population anymore, it still sticks to me.

Rationally I know that I earned whatever happens to me. I killed, maimed, tortured, raped - with a smile on my lips. I once told Buffy I did it with a song in my heart, but it was wrong. There were no songs, and there was certainly no heart. The one once beating in my chest was dead, its left my body with my soul.

The door opens and I hear heavy footsteps. Gunn. He's talking loudly, no doubt carrying a bag of donuts for everyone. I suddenly become aware of the warm body stirring next to me. The warm body I tried my best to ignore ever since I woke up an hour ago, but couldn't quite manage. My own body reacted instantly, trying to get closer, trying to surround itself with warmth, love, life.

I used to wake up that way. At least sometimes. I remember waking up next to her, a couple of days before her prom, her hair mussed from sleep, her eyes sleepy, her cheeks flushed. Never before I had seen her more beautiful, and never before I was more afraid. I think that moment I came the closest to losing my soul again. And today I'm sure it triggered the nightmare, and with it the decision to leave Sunnydale. Then, I thought it was the right decision. The only one I could make. Today, I'm not sure anymore.

Buffy used to be the essence of my being, she used to be my reason. My everything. But then I left and my new found heart stayed behind. Friends came and went, some of them stayed, and yes, we were becoming a family, people were important for me, people I cared for. I even convinced myself of being in love with Cordelia, almost felt like a human being. I was a father, wasn't I? Wasn't that proof of my humanity? If I could father a child, it meant I wouldn't really die. My name, my essence would live on. In him. In Connor.

I almost groan out loud at the sudden pain the mere thought causes me, and at the same time I feel Buffy moving away and getting up, and it's all I can do not to reach out and pull her against me. But the voices are still there and I don't want them to know I'm awake. I don't want to talk. I don't want to see their pity, don't want to hear their compassion. I know they mean well, and I'm probably behaving unfair, but does it really matter?

Does anything matter?

When I held him for the first time, he was so small, so fragile, so precious, I was barely able to believe he belonged to me. How could someone who lived on a permanent line between light and darkness, between good and bad, produce something so perfect? Even more so as his mother was an evil vampire who had done her best to get rid of the thing that was growing inside of her. But he still lived, he still existed, and I still fell in love with him.

It was a lot like falling in love with Buffy. It was instant, deep, pure, and irrevocable. Loving Connor seemed so natural, and for the first time I actually considered that my father had loved me, too. How could any father not love his own flesh and blood? I was so proud holding him, felt so complete, so blessed. The way I felt when Buffy looked up to me with love in her eyes. She was pure and good, too. She loved me unconditionally, showed me that I was more than a monster, more than I let myself believe I was. She made me feel ten feet tall, and Connor did, too. When his eyes rested on my face, this steady, knowing look in them, I knew he loved me the same way.

It made me feel invincible. And at the same time I became arrogant.

When I was a little boy my mother used to say that arrogance was a deadly sin. But she also said lying was a sin, and she and my father lied to each other every day. So I guessed that if the one was allowed the other wasn't forbidden either. I was a cocky SOB when I grew up, good looking, trying to get under any skirt available. Only when I became a vampire I realised that I was only trying to compensate for the lack of love in my family. I would've killed to see my father looking at me with pride, and in the end I did. Kill, that is. I killed him, and felt great. I still remember the way his blood ran down my throat and how sweet it tasted. And when Darla told me that it wasn't a solution I merely laughed and shrugged it off.

Today I understand. I wish I had a chance to talk to my old man. Wish I could see Kathie again and tell her I'm sorry. It isn't much, and compared to her young life I took, it's nothing, but I still would like to say it. Not because I expect absolution - there is not absolution for what I've done - but to let them know that I didn't stay that monster who didn't care for anyone and anybody. I do care, although right now, I wish I wouldn't.

I so wanted to see him grow up. I wanted to hear his voice, wanted to hear him calling me 'Dad'. I wanted to see him walk, run, to go to school, to college, wanted to see him fall in love, and doing a lot better than his old man. I wanted so much … and maybe that's why I got nothing in the end. Yes, I deserve everything that's thrown at me, but Connor didn't. His only mistake was to be born off two vampires, but besides that he was completely innocent. He was human, a baby, he never hurt anyone, but that didn't keep Holtz from using him against me. I know I killed Holtz's family. I know I hurt him in the worst way. But Connor didn't.

He hasn't earned to pay for the sins of his father.

I draw in a startled breath when I feel a soft, warm hand settling on my cheek, familiar fingers stroking my skin. "I know you're awake," I hear her say. "You don't fool me, Angel."

My eyes open slowly, and I have to blink against the bright light coming from the ceiling. "Hey," I say, my voice a bit rough.

"You don't want to talk to them, huh?" she says and I'm surprised by her insight. But then I remember her old and sad eyes and know that there's a lot in Buffy's life I don't know. I stopped making it my business to know. Now I suddenly wish I had. I cannot deny the warmth spreading through me at her touch, and for the first time since Connor disappeared, I let myself feel more than skin deep.

"No, I don't want them to know."

She smiles knowingly, although it's incredibly sad, but her hand stays on my cheek, "I'm sorry, Angel. So sorry about your son. I wish I could've met him."

The lump that rises in my throat is gigantic and I have to swallow twice, before I manage to croak, "I wish you'd've met him, too."

"They're concerned about you," she then tells me, removing her hand. I almost shiver at the loss of warmth. I'm used to feeling cold. I haven't felt warm for a long time. I can hardly remember how it felt to be with her - or I didn't let myself. But now, with her so close, all the memory comes rushing back, and I want to beg her to never leave again, to stay, to let me bathe in her warmth, in her light, in her love.

"Yeah, I know."

"But you don't care."

Again this insight that makes me realise how much she's changed. She's grown so much, she's become an adult, not just her body. I suppose I could be dead, and I realise how strange this sounds in my case, and would still be aware of her body. But there's more. It shows in her face, in her eyes. Even her lips look different. Or maybe not. I can't remember and it makes me want to weep. I thought Buffy and I would last forever. Before I lost my soul, when I still thought miracles were possible. When I came back from Hell, I understood that our relationship was doomed. I left, and I knew that her life and my life would move on differently from now on. But never, not in my worst nightmares, I thought it would come to this. That we'd be strangers, that we stopped caring about each other.

Stopped thinking about each other.

But at the same moment I realise it's a lie. I never stopped caring about her. How could I, when she's so much a part of me that being deprived of her touch makes me ache in places I didn't even know existed. When her heart is part of mine. I thought it died when Holtz took Connor, but being close to Buffy shows me that it's not true. And I'm not sure if I should love or hate it.

"No," I admit, hating it. Because deep inside, a part of me does care. But I won't let myself.

"Liar," she whispers, chuckling slightly at my incredulous look. "I've been there, Angel," she explains. "I tried to block them all out. But it only works that far."

I don't want to think about what that means, but I can't help it. Buffy did block her friends out? Why? They have always been her anchor to the real world. She depended on them.

Only when she quickly looks away I realise I've spoken the questions out loud. "It's … a long story," she says, her eyes cast at her lap, where her fingers are entwined tightly, her knuckles white. "Maybe I'm going to tell you - one day."

"Giles, too?" I ask, realising with sudden awareness that I've become interested in another one's problems again. No, not another one's, Buffy's. It's at the same time disturbing and soothing to know that her mere presence is enough to bring my walls tumbling down. Although it hurts it's good to feel that way, but it's also scary. What am I going to do when she's leaving?

"He left," she replies, blinking once - twice. Her head comes up, and she looks at me again, a sad smile playing around her lips, "He went back to England. He said I was relying on him all the time. That I needed to learn to trust myself, to rely on my own strength."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "He … left you? After you came back?" I haven't even realised that I'm sitting up now, that my voice is rising, or that the three people at the counter turn their heads and look at us. "But that's … I don't understand." And I really don't. Giles has always been the father figure for Buffy. He's always been her rock in a rough sea. He's always been there, backing her up, even going against the watcher's council to help her. And he just left?

A laugh comes from her mouth, but it's not a happy sound. "Tell me about it." She shrugs, "He told me - and left. I wasn't even given a choice." She shrugs again, "Story of my life."

I feel the pang - sharp, quick, painful - down to my toes. She doesn't have to say it. I understand. I left her, too. Not listening to her side, never trying to understand. I just told her and went. Period. Like her father did. Her mom - although Joyce didn't have a say in it. Riley left her, too. She told me about it, when I came to her mother's funeral. A part of me was glad, the possessive part that always dreaded to lose her. Not to lose her body. I know she has given it to others, but being what I am, having lived though the things I have, and not to forget the little episode with Darla, I know that it doesn't have to mean anything. But what I really dreaded was to lose her, to see her falling in love with another.

The other part, however, wanted her to. Wanted her to be happy again, to love again. To live. But whatever I wanted, I didn't want her to live through the kind of betrayal she experienced with Riley. Especially not after what happened after our first night together, or the way that scum treated her, the one Spike told me about. It kind of helps to know that I, at least, didn't have a chance, that I couldn't help it. I didn't know I would lose my soul after being with her. I don't know what would've happened if I could've kept it, at least not in the long run, but I sure as hell would've been there, waking up beside her, telling her how amazing, how incredibly beautiful her gift was to me.

She trusted me when nobody did. She loved me when everybody else was looking at me with disgust, with fear, or at least with wariness. She accepted me. I still can't believe she kissed me that one night at the ice rink, game face and all. She didn't hesitate for a moment. I was a vampire, and she didn't care. In the end it was part of the long list of reasons why I left.

"Did you hear from him?" I ask, not quite knowing why. I still have problems understanding that Giles really left her.

"Yeah," she nods, again chuckling sadly, "he calls." Suddenly she straightens, "But you know what. I lived through it. I'm still there."

Not contemplating my next move, I put a hand on her entwined ones, before I can talk myself out of it. "Don't," I say softly, but firmly. "Don't try to tell me you've pulled through. Because I can see it's a lie. I wish I could give you some very smart advice, but I can't. I've parted with a lot of people in my life, but it never gets easier." When she looks at me, I squeeze her hands. I want to give her a smile, but I don't quite manage. It seems as if my face has lost its ability to smile.

"Never, huh?" She swallows - hard. "Well, that's - really encouraging. But thanks for the truth." A tear slips from her eyes, but despite of it, she smiles and this time it's neither forced nor sad. It's just a smile. And it warms my heart.

"You're welcome," I tell her, and this time I feel my lips twitch. The smile isn't coming, but somehow it feels good.

Good.

Guilt returns with lightning speed. I am not supposed to feel good. Holtz took my son, and I let myself feel good. I want to pull my hand away but she doesn't let me. She holds onto it, and when I look at her, her eyes are locked onto mine, "I didn't let myself feel either," she says, "After mom died, I thought laughing was a deadly sin."

"He isn't dead."

"I know." Her voice is soft, and her hands are firm around mine. "But it's still a loss. Maybe it's even worse the way you experience it. To know he is somewhere out there. To know he is alive, that he's maybe laughing right now, but that you can't get to him. That he's lost to you despite the fact that he's still alive."

Lost.

Lost. Lost.

Lost. Lost. Lost.

The word keeps repeating in my head, and I can't get myself to see ahead of it. I shake my head, but I'm only partially aware of it.

No.

I want to deny it, but I can't.

Lost.

"No."

Startled I realise I've spoken out loud.

"Angel."

I hear Cordelia's voice from the counter, see from the corner of my eye that she's starting to walk over to us, and I try to escape, try to pull away, but Buffy won't let me. She holds on to me with all her Slayer strength. I've never been more aware that she's so strong.

"Angel?" Gunn's voice, and another one, whispering my name. Fred.

"No," I repeat, again trying to pull away. Again, she holds on to me. "Let me go," I demand, pulling harder.

"Stay away," Buffy orders, and I see them stop. "I can handle this."

"Maybe, but-," Cordelia starts, but Gunn pulls her away. "Let them deal with this," he says. "Don't interfere."

If I was sane right now, I would register how wise he is. But I'm not sane, I'm a raging madman, who wants nothing more than to escape. It hurts. It hurts so badly, I want to scream. I want to rage. I want to -

My free fist is in her face before I can stop myself. I hear the shocked gasps, see the surprise in Buffy's eyes, and realise that my other hand is free as well. I want to tell her I'm sorry, but I can't. Not now.

I have to leave. I have to be on my own. I can't do this.

I struggle on my feet, race up the stairs to my room, and when I close the door I make sure it's locked. I sink down to the ground, my whole body starting to shake. I feel the sobs coming from deep inside, fighting their way up my throat, breaking free, bringing all the pain to the surface. I curl into a tight ball, trying to hold onto my emotions, hoping that making myself as small as possible they will stay where they are. But when my cheek touches the cold floor I cannot ignore the wetness on it.

I don't want to. But I feel.

Thanks for reading. What do you think? Liked it? Hated it? Tell me. Send feedback to Connemara.Scarlets@t-online.de

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