Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. I'm serious.
Distribution: If you're already housing my stuff or have been given permission to, go ahead, otherwise, I'd like to know where.
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: I don't know episode names, but through seasons six and three and Wes's prophecy. If you don't know what I'm talking about, than you will be spoiled.
Summary: Instead of getting his throat slashed by Justine, Wesley gives Connor to Buffy. Years later, Cordelia gets married.

"I'm coming!" Buffy snapped at her door. "God, it's seven in the morning. Go away."

Finally she opened the door, glowering at the person on the other side. "Yes, well, hello Buffy," Wesley greeted quietly. "This is Connor."

"Okay," she mumbled, staring down at the baby in his arms. Bright eyes shined up at her, and other than the fact that he was a boy she could have been staring down at a baby version of herself. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

"I can't go into specifics, but he is the all too human son of supernatural parents," Wesley explained, walking into the house with a diaper bag on his arm. "They cannot raise him and he is in dire need of protection. I was hoping that you would..."

"Adopt him?" Buffy guessed. "Wes, I'm 20. I don't have a steady job, and I'm not in school."

"Don't worry about any of that. I've set up a large bank account for you and I am more than capable of replacing it, should the money run out," he assured her. "As to your age, you have custody of your sister, do you not? And plenty of women your age have had multiple children." Buffy didn’t answer, and her silence plagued Wesley. She couldn't refuse him. "Please. He has no one else."

Buffy sighed, looking down at the baby. He blinked up at her and she held out her finger, which he grasped determinedly. "For awhile," she agreed, "but not forever."

"I would not ask that of you," Wesley assured her. "If you would just take him, I can fetch the rest of his things."

Suddenly the boy was in Buffy’s arms and she stared down at him, moving to sit on the nearest arm chair she never sat on the couch anymore. Connor gurgled in fascination as he stared at his fingers, and Buffy ran a finger of her own over his face. She'd known babies before, of course, but they'd never needed her the way this one did now. They'd never been real to her, and now here was this tiny baby entirely depending on her, and undeniably real.

"Wes?" she asked when he came back in, barely looking away from Connor. "Who would want to hurt him?"

"Unintentionally, his own father," her former Watcher sat beside her, on the arm of her chair, and held out his hand. Connor began to munch on it. "It has been prophesized. I brought him to you for safekeeping while I attempt to uncover more concrete information, perhaps a way to prevent it."

"Why me? I mean, couldn't Angel..."

"Get himself killed trying to protect Connor during the day?" Wesley rose an eyebrow at her and Buffy winced; she'd forgotten about that factor. Wesley meanwhile hoped she'd believe his explanation. "He's a human child, Buffy. He'll have doctors appointments and he'll need clothing, and he'll want to take walks. I can't imagine Angel would be able to provide that stability."

"No," Buffy reluctantly shook her head. But I doubt I can either.

"You on the other hand, have a close circle of friends capable of providing a family life, and a lovely home rather than a haunted hotel," he continued, unknowingly reassuring her. "And you are stronger than Angel."

<< Buffy he reached a hand out to grasp hers, but she was not allowed to take it, not allowed to pull her love from the damnation that was his destiny >>

<< Not to go all schoolyard on you, but you hit me first. >>

"Buffy," Wesley's voice shook her from the memories and she thanked him mentally. "I really have to go. I’m needed in L.A."

"Bye Wesley," she smiled wearily. "I'd hug you, but..."

"You have your hands full," he nodded. "I'll check in shortly."

Part One

Part One

"Mommy!" Connor Summers ran to his mother, leaping into her arms. "Mommy I can count to ten!" he shouted, holding up eight fingers.

"Can you?" Buffy grinned, kissing his forehead and smiling at his teacher. "Did you behave yourself?"

"He did get into one fight," Ms. Canters told her. "I had to put him in time out."

"Connor," Buffy frowned at her adoptive son. She didn't understand where the sudden outbreaks of violence were coming from. If they were still in Sunnydale she would have believed that it was somehow the Hellmouth’s influence, but the Hellmouth had closed before Connor was two years old and they were here in New York. She would just have to accept that he was turning into a five year old boy.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he looked solemnly at her, "but he said something mean to Shelly and she was my girlfriend."

"Was?" Ms. Canters asked, amused.

"We broke up."

"Of course," Buffy smiled. "No more fighting, kay?" Connor bobbed his head in agreement and Buffy sighed. He'd forget his promise by the next day, guaranteed. "Bye, Ms. Canters."

~*~*~*~

"I am a genius," Cordelia Chase announced cheerfully into the phone. Wesley groaned.

"Cordelia, I really don't need to hear about how perfect your wedding location is," he muttered tiredly. "Being English, I’m well aware of the beauties of England."

"Not that", she exclaimed. "That's so old news anyway. I'm all about the dress, which still isn't why I called."

"Then by all means, get to the point," Wesley dragged himself out of bed, sensing Cordelia would not let the subject drop.

"I'm going to get them back together!"

"Who, Cordelia?" Another scheme that would come to nothing; well, best to humor her, he decided, filling his old teapot.

"Duh! Buffy and Angel!" Cordy exclaimed. "Buffy's my maid of honor, and Angel’s David's best man. So perfect!"

"Cordelia, did you just both Buffy and Angel will be at your wedding?" Dammit! Angel had only just accepted that sending Connor away had been the right thing to do. Why couldn't Cordelia let it rest?

"Not at, in," Cordy corrected. "There's a huge difference, but yeah, why?"

"Connor," Wesley snapped. "To have Connor, Buffy and Angel in the same place could prove disastrous."

"You're hiding something," Cordelia whined. "You said that stupid prophecy was false. Connor would bring them together now."

"Or Angel may simply try to take Connor from her," Wesley argued, increasingly nervous that Cordelia would not heed his warnings. "He doesn't know Connor has been in Buffy’s care, nor does she know that Angel is the boy's father."

"No way, Buffy wouldn’t let him get away with that," Cordy disagreed firmly. "Besides, would that be so bad? If she was willing to let him go, I mean."

"Yes," Wesley sighed and explained the truth to her.

~*~*~*~

"Hello?" Angel called into the quiet office. The lights were out, and he was about to leave when a body popped out from behind the desk.

"Mr. Angel?" asked the young agent. "My name is Michael. I thought you might prefer the dark."

"That’s very considerate," Angel said, uncertain it was the right response, but uncertain of what was the right response when faced with such youthful chipperness. "I need..."

"Two tickets to London, roundtrip for two weeks, the night of May eighth," Michael interrupted. "You request a private plane to leave at sunset and you will transfer to an awaiting limousine immediately upon arrival. Ms. Michelle called ahead."

"Yes, um, thank you," Michelle, his assistant since Harmony had been promoted, and his date to Cordelia's wedding, was always on top of this kind of thing, whereas he was always behind. "So is it..."

"All cleared, sir," Michael nodded. "No schedule changes whatsoever. You leave from gate E."

"Thank you," he nodded, leaving the agency Wolfram and Hart preferred. As he walked down the short flight of stairs to the waiting car he thought about his upcoming trip.

Truth was he was incredibly nervous. Since his soul was bound (just before he lost Connor), Cordelia had not found it a betrayal to be close to Buffy, and the two had become best friends. Buffy would, no doubt, be in attendance, and the thought of seeing her again terrified Angel.

Furthermore, Angel doubted Cordelia's love for her fiancée. To be Mrs. Nabbit would give her wealth and power beyond even her own wildest dreams, but would it give her love? Somehow he doubted it. She did genuinely like David, though, and Angel refused to question her motives. To her face.

~*~*~*~

From: Seer917@Supernatural.com
To: SlayerB@supernatural.com
Subject: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Body:

I am begging you to be my maid of honor. You’re my best friend. And I can’t trust my bachelorette party to Harm or Fred. Please.
- Cordy

~*~*~*~

From: SlayerB@supernatural.com
To: Seer917@supernatural.com
Subject: Re: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Body:

Enough with the pressure. I would be offended, if I wasn’t your maid of honor. I'll need to find child care for Connor, but maybe I can bribe Dawn or Giles or someone.

You’re getting married in England, right? That’s so perfect. Do you want me to come early and help you look for the dress? I can get Spike to run the gym (gasp, he might actually have to work) and my Dad adores Connor.

How's David? He's such a sweetie, I'm glad things are working out for you two. It's sort of proof that fairy tales can come true. When Ahn and Xander split, I pretty much gave up on that.

Promise me you love him, Cordy. I can't let you marry for money. You and David both deserve better than that.

XOXO, Buffy

~*~*~*~

From: Seer917@supernatural.com
To: SlayerB@supernatural.com
Subject: Re: Re: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Body:

Bring Spike to London and have him watch Connor during the service. Both are welcome to the reception.

I can handle dress buying, but please, do come early if you can. I love it when you visit.

And of course I love David. He's sweet and funny and admittedly, a total dork, but the kind of dork you just want to squeeze. He's perfect for me. The truth is, I can’t even imagine marrying for money anymore. Financial security is great, of course, but if it doesn't come with love it's not worth it for me. Guess I grew up, huh?

- Cordy

P.S. I hope this doesn't change anything, but Angel is David's best man.

~*~*~*~

Part Two

Buffy dropped her bags on the plush carpet and glanced around the suite Cordy and David had set her up in. The inn where they were getting married was once a castle and as such was gloriously well decorated. And she had one of the nicest suites available.

"Put me down!" Connor hollered at the top of his lungs. "I wanna see the room! Put me down!"

Buffy heard footsteps follow her into the room and wasn't surprised to see her son kicking his uncle Spike. "Alright tike, I'll put you down, but you can't hit me or your mum or anyone else," Buffy had to force herself not to laugh. William the Bloody, tormentor of Europe and occasionally Sunnydale, was telling a six year old not to fight.

"It's not okay, Connor," she managed to scold softly.

"I'm sorry Uncle Spike," Connor apologized in his guilty voice before running and jumping on the bed. "Is this where I sleep?"

"Sorry, squirt, that’s where Mommy and Uncle Spike sleep, you get that one," Buffy pointed to the smaller version of the same bed, a four poster in a golden hued wood.

"Does that make Spike my Daddy?"

Buffy and her friend shared a look, and Spike spoke first. "No, sometimes grownups just share a bed without being somebody's Mommy and Daddy," he answered. "That's what we’re going to do."

"Oh," Connor looked a little deflated as he asked "Do I have a Daddy?"

~*~*~*~

"Angel," Michelle slid next to him in the limo, pressing herself impossibly close to his body. "Have I told you how happy I am that you invited me to be your date?"

This is not how I planned this, he thought to himself. He and Michelle were not supposed to be a couple for this ceremony, just friends. Close, work friends like they were at the office. Not friends with benefits.

"Because I really don't want to forget," she continued. "Maybe I could show you?"

When he felt her tongue on his neck he jumped to the other side of the car. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Angel began. "You're really very attractive, I'm just not interested in that."

"Oh, thank God," Michelle grinned at him. "Me either. I just figured well, you’re the boss, and its a romantic vacation, and it is Wolfram and Hart." Angel stared at his employee for a minute. Could she really have believed he’d invited her for sex? It is Wolfram and Hart.

"No," he assured her firmly. "I just didn't want to go alone. My ex is going to be there, and my friend, the one who's getting married, is always pressuring me to date; I thought if I showed up with someone, even just a friend, they'd get off my back."

"Your ex, huh?" Michelle smirked. "The infamous Buffy Summers? Talk of the office, love of your unlife."

That would be her, Angel shrugged a little and turned to look out the window. The English scenery flew by as the car drove and Angel allowed the thoughts of blond hair and green eyes to seep into his head.

~*~*~*~

"Ice!" Spike yelled into the hallway and Buffy groaned. Cookies for Connor, crackers (preferably Wheetabix) for Spike, and God only knew what he would do with them, chocolate milk, coffee, and something sweet, and now ice. She should have sent Spike to the vending machines.

A door creaked open down the hall and Buffy ignored it, assuming none of Cordelia's guests would have arrived as early as she had. Reaching the machines, Buffy pulled out her wallet, when a cold hand touched her shoulder. "Dammit, Spike, what else do you want... Angel?"

When she turned to see her former love, she could have sworn her heart stopped. "Buffy," he murmured softly. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"Ditto," Buffy shrugged. "Bachelorette party."

Angel smiled. "You seem thrilled," he commented and Buffy laughed. "But how could you not be? I assume there's a stripper involved."

"Actually I'm supposed to find out if David's having one and make plans from there," she explained, "Cordy's way of checking up on him, or something. But I'm not hiring one either way."

"Good, because I was supposed to find out if Cordy wanted one and base my plans on that," Angel admitted. And I wasn't going to hire anyone either.

"Naked women not your thing?" Please, God say no, Buffy begged mentally, wanting to kick herself for asking. She wasn't ready to discuss Angel’s sex life. She wasn't ready for Angel to have a sex life if it wasn't with her.

His eyes darkened, almost imperceptivity, but not in a bad, angry way. "Depends on the woman," he replied, stepping a few steps closer to her. Buffy took a step back until her back touched the machine. Angel was right in front of her and she could easily reach up and grab him.

"A Angel?" She swallowed hard and rose a hand to his face. His lips met hers passionately, and Buffy reached to pull him closer. Their situation never ceased to amaze her; she couldn't even speak to him for five minutes without groping against a vending machine.

"I've wanted to do that for six years," he gasped against her lips.

"Why haven't you?"

"It's not that simple," Angel argued. "You have a son and I'm still a vampire"

"None of that matters," Buffy whispered. "I mean, of course my son matters, but that shouldn't keep you away... would you like to meet him?"

"I'd like that," Angel nodded.

~*~*~*~

Part Three

The boy was sitting in Spike’s lap when Buffy and Angel entered the room, armed with drinks and snacks. Angel had a hard time believing there was no actual relation, as the boy had shining blond hair and a small figure, and something not exactly physical but still supremely Buffy. Dark eyes and a very masculine nose gave his adoption away.

"Connor, baby, I want you to meet a friend of mine," Buffy announced softly. The pride in her eyes and love in her voice was so strong that the name almost slipped past him. "He worked with Uncle Wesley when he brought you to me."

"Why is he so pale Mommy?" Connor asked quietly. Dear God, that was his son. Buffy was raising his son. It was almost his dream come true, except that in his dreams they were all a family and Spike did not exist. Is he a vampire like Uncle Spike?

He calls Spike Uncle? No, no, no this can’t be.

"He's not a bloody thing like me," Spike corrected. "But he is a vampire."

"A good one right?" Connor looked up at Angel's Grand Childe and Angel seethed inwardly. Spike had no role to fulfill in Connors life. He wasn’t necessary. "'Cause Mommy wouldn’t have a bad friend."

"Yes, Connor," Buffy assured her son and Angel was hurt that she had to give an affirmation to his goodness even as he was pleased that she was held with such staunch faith by his (hers now) son. "Angel's very, very good."

~*~*~*~

He was quiet all night, Spike noticed, realizing Angel had figured it out. Spike himself had sensed it from the start; Aurelius blood ran through the boy and even outcast from the order as he was, Spike could sense it. So when Angel excused himself to the balcony, Spike followed.

"Unnerving isn't it?" he asked, leaning against the wall. "He's your bleedin' son and if not for the name you wouldn’t even know."

"You know?"

'Of course; I can smell your blood in his veins," Spike shrugged, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "Thought you would too, but then, you smell your own blood all the time."

"What's the point, Spike?" Angel turned his head to stare at his Childe. Spike met his gaze unflinchingly.

"That woman in there bloody loves the boy. He's her son," through the window Angel could see them playing quietly with one of Connors stuffed animals, Connor tucked safely in bed and Buffy in a chair beside him. "And I love her. I'm all for the bugger knowing his Da, but don't bloody think about taking him away from her or I'll find another Marcus."

~*~*~*~

"Hey," Buffy smiled as her vampires re-entered the room.

"Can we talk somewhere?" Angel asked her in a whisper, noting that Connor was asleep.

"I'll watch the tike," Spike assured Buffy while casting a warning glance at Angel. "Go ahead on the balcony. And pet, take a sweater. This is England."

Angel glowered jealously at the interaction between vampire and Slayer, as she nodded, grabbing a blanket and hugging Spike. "I'll be back," she followed Angel into the night. "What's up?"

"Around six years ago, Darla gave birth to my son," he stared. "She was resurrected by an evil law firm to distract me, cast out my soul, and eventually, I did sleep with her. I kept my soul and threw her out, but she came back, pregnant. After she gave birth, well, in child birth actually, she died, leaving me to raise a human baby. He was attacked a few times before I let Wesley give him up. I haven't seen him since. His name was..."

"Connor," Buffy gasped, touching Angel’s arm. "Oh, God, Angel, you must be so... Darla?! You slept with Darla?" Past remember? Six years ago. And you slept with Spike. You have no right to judge him. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Angel took her small hand in both of his, smiling at her, though his eyes remained sad. "I made a mistake. And he couldn't have asked for a better home. I just... I'd like to know him."

"Of course," Buffy promised. "Why didn't you call sooner?"

"I didn't know," Angel admitted. "Wesley never gave me a name, just said he was safe."

"He is," Buffy urged. I would never hurt him. "He's my... our son. God, we have a son."

Angel thanked God that his soul was bound, because that one sentence would have spelled disaster otherwise.

Part Four

“How could you not tell me?” Angel demanded. The phone shook in his hand. “Wesley, for Christ’s sake, she’s raising my son.”

Michelle watched her boss pacing the suite and felt her heart breaking for him. He’d told her the whole story when he got back from Buffy’s room that night, from his ex shacking up with the being he hated most, to her having sole custody of the son he’d thought lost to him forever, and all Michelle could think was damn.

“A little heads up would have been nice!”

Angel had suffered a hundred years for crimes he didn’t commit. He’d been betrayed by his only friend in like, 50 years, he suffered through animal blood, lived in sewers and pretty much led a sucky life until he met Her.

Michelle had learned the hard way not to ask about Her. He only answered when he was drunk and then he wouldn’t stop answering. At an office party, Michelle had asked Her name, and gotten a romance novel in response.

“You mean Buffy? No one ever talks about my Buffy. Not since she died. She’s not dead anymore now though. Which is good, ‘cause I didn’t like her dead. I couldn’t see her pretty hair when she was dead. Or her eyes. Gods her eyes,” he’d tossed back another beer. “They’re green. Jush like the jealousy demon. She wash jealous too. She saysh I’m jealous jush ‘cause I beat up her boyfriend. He started it… you know Shelley, I think I’m shloshed.”

Michelle got the story from Fred the next day. “His” Buffy was the vampire slayer, operating out of Sunnydale. They met, fell in love and had sex, he lost his soul, and started killing people. She had to kill him, he came back, they couldn’t make it work, he left. All with poetry

Now she had his miracle baby and he’d been left with nothing and no one. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

“I didn’t say that!” Angel argued with Wesley under Michelle’s watchful eye. “I’m not arguing with your decision, I’m arguing with your right to decide…”

This wasn’t going to end, Michelle decided, and she quietly told Angel she was going for a walk.

~*~*~*~

“You knew, didn’t you?” Buffy asked Spike, staring down at her (Angel’s) little boy. “About Connor?”

“Yeah, luv,” Spike sighed, sitting on the bed behind her. “I did.”

“How could you not tell me?”

“Way I figured, Watcher had a reason not to,” he shrugged. “No reason for me to mess that up.”

“He’s… he’s Angel’s,” Buffy mumbled. With Darla, the tiny voice in her head that loved to torment her spoke and she could picture the voice laughing at her.

Shut up.

“Wasn’t bloody talking,” Spike snapped and Buffy turned to him wide eyed.

“Did I say that out loud?” she blushed a little and sat beside him on the bed. He put an arm around her waist and Buffy laid her head on his shoulder. “What did you say to Angel?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” Buffy rolled her eyes, but she didn’t press. She was too distracted. She’d been the mother of Angel’s child practically since the boy was born, and before Angel’d known that he’d seemed open to reconciliation. They could be a family…

Stop it, she warned herself. Stop, don’t get your hopes up. Never let your hopes up when it comes to Angel.

“It’ll be okay pet,” Spike promised her. “You’ll see.”

For a moment, Buffy let herself believe him.

~*~*~*~

“I didn’t simply hand him over to Buffy, Angel. It was a careful process and you said you agreed given the situation at the time,” Wesley snapped into the phone. “It hardly seems right that you change your mind now.”

“I haven’t… that’s not… I just want to know why,” Angel sighed. “I don’t understand.”

“Angel, I understand that this is difficult for you, as well as for Buffy, more so, but I feel I should be having this conversation with her as well,” Wesley told him, moving into the kitchen of his flat and poured water for tea. “Perhaps sometime today, you could bring her here and we might be able to discuss…”

“Twenty minutes,” Angel hung up before Wesley could answer, and the Watcher’s curses met with empty air.

He’d known, of course, that the day would come when he would have to explain to both Buffy and Angel the truth about Connor’s mystical birth and parentage. He’d only hoped Cordy would wait a little longer to marry. He would love for Angel to finally have the long awaited reunion with Buffy and he genuinely hoped she and Connor could provide the family Angel so desperately needed, and that he could do the same for them.

But how could he explain what he’d known for years and never confessed?

~*~*~*~

‘And so the child of the Slayer shall be born of her vampire’s dark hour, birthed by a hated enemy. And the child shall live at his mother’s side until Mother and Father reunite or they should not will never happen and the world shall never recover.’

Buffy felt her eyes watering as she read the passage for the hundredth time. “The actual prophecy goes into more depth than this, but this was what Mr. Giles and I could translate,” Wesley offered quietly. Buffy looked up at him in surprise. “Mr. Giles felt it important to both yourself and to Connor, and therefore important to him.”

“I still don’t… how is this… how?” Angel half asked, half babbled. He was sitting next to Buffy on Wesley’s couch, their legs lightly touching, and seemed as shocked by Wesley’s revelation as she felt. Feeling bold, she took his hand in hers and squeezed.

“I believe he was conceived twice before Darla,” Wesley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The scrolls have all given that explanation, that a ‘preconceived child,’ was placed in Darla’s womb after being ‘twice thwarted by his parents’ fate.’” He frowned into his notes. “It makes no sense.”

“Actually,” Angel looked cautiously at Buffy, testing her memories. She wasn’t supposed to remember at all, but she’d given a startled gasp of recognition at Wesley’s explanation. “It does.”

“That day,” she murmured. “The day you gave back, and my birthday… I got attacked a few weeks later… I thought it was cramps, but I must have miscarried…”

“You remember?” Angel asked, knowing the answer and still wanting more, needing further proof.

“Every second,” with her free hand, Buffy traced the outline of his heart. “When… when I first got Connor, I started having dreams, but I remembered in Heaven, before I had him.”

“We… he…” Angel stammered again. “He’s ours.” He turned to stare at their joined hands, then up into her eyes. “How are you not shocked?”

“I am,” she told him. “But I always felt like he was mine. You told me last night that he’s yours too; he’s been ours ever since.”

“Wes?” Angel looked at the former Watcher and Wesley was relieved to find understanding in his eyes. “I know there’s more we need to talk about, but…”

“Go,” Wesley waved them off. “Let’s not discuss Armageddon at a wedding.”

Part Five

The gown seemed to gleam in the mirrors and Buffy marveled over her friend’s blushing beauty. Cordelia was genuinely happy and Buffy was incredibly jealous of her marriage. Everything had fallen into place for the Prom Queen, and even though she could never begrudge Cordy’s happiness, it wasn’t fair. Cordelia and David had never had to prove their love for one another. They’d never been forbidden and they’d never had to suffer for one another.

She’d killed Angel, and died (or almost died, been willing to die) at his hands, for him. She’d lost him and he’d lost his humanity. They’d fought and made up and she’d raised their son, alone, when he’d wanted more than anything to be a part of Connor’s life. And their only saving grace was that he would no longer become a monster if they made love.

And our son, Buffy reminded herself, Connor. You never even expected that much.

But he was still dead. His skin was still cold, would still burn to ash with just a touch of the sun or a cross. They could still never marry, or have a second baby. They would never have what Cordy and David could expect without question.

Still, the love Buffy and Angel shared was stronger than any other she’d seen and she would never trade their passion for the Nabbits’ (or the couple soon to be the Nabbits’), easy companionship. Her love for Angel was different from everything she had ever known; it had given her the wings to soar above everything in the world. It had given her her son.

“You okay?” Harmony was standing next to her, both in their bridesmaids gowns as Fred pinned Cordy’s hair in place.

Buffy smiled at the blond and nodded. “Just thinking,” she responded softly.

“He loves you too,” Harmony assured her. “Even when he’s grumpy.”

~*~*~*~

He was about to be walking down the aisle at her side. Granted, it wasn’t their aisle – they weren’t even together - but it was an aisle and that was enough for him at that moment. He still hoped for Shanshu and a very different aisle and a honeymoon in the sun, but for now, a possibility was enough.

Fred, with Wesley at her side, and Harmony, with one of David’s friends, stepped through the doors, and it was their turn. Just before they started to move he felt a soft flutter against his cheek, and realized she’d kissed him. They exchanged smiles, secretly thinking to themself that this was maybe all they would have.

~*~*~*~

Cordelia watched from David’s arms as her two friends sat to the side of the dance floor, playing happily with their miracle son, and hoped she would find that happiness soon as well. “Connor’s going to be spoiled rotten,” David muttered in her ear, seeing who she was watching, “Buffy, too, when they get back together.”

“She deserves it,” Cordelia answered, turning to face her husband. Husband, wow, she thought before returning her mind to the subject at hand. “She made him who he is. She made me who I am. As long as I’ve known her she’s been fighting for someone else and she’s never asked for anything but him. They should have each other. She deserves him twenty times more than I do you.”

David kissed her gently, but soundly on the lips, and Cordelia melted into him. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he whispered into her ear. “I happen to think you deserve more than me.”

Cordelia flashed him a blinding grin and murmured “You bet your life I do.”

~*~*~*~

“Are you my Daddy?” Connor asked Angel solemnly. Angel looked down at him in surprise, and the young boy stared back. “Well? Are you?”

“Uh, yes, I am,” Angel nodded dumbly, unsure of what else he should or could say. He couldn’t explain their situation to himself, let alone a five year old.

And of course, Buffy had chosen that minute to go off and speak with her friends.

“Are you gonna take me away from my Mommy?” Connor continued, oblivious to Angel’s dilemma. “’Cause I don’t wanna go ‘way.”

“No, Connor,” Angel promised with certainty. How could he? Buffy was Connor’s mother; even if they never reunited, he would always be in love with her and she had lost too much for him to take Connor. Not to mention the damn prophecy. “I’ll never take you from your mother. But I would like to know you both better.”

“Okay,” Connor shrugged. “I like trucks,” he offered with a smile. “And Mommy likes to cry.”

“I doubt your mother likes to cry,” Angel managed to say; Connor looked doubtful.

“She does it on her birthday every year,” he told his father. “And when it’s raining. Uncle Spike said it’s ‘cause she likes to.”

Angel frowned a little, but he didn’t let Connor see that he was worried. Instead, he continued to ask about his family’s lives. “What else does your Mommy like?”

“Salad,” Connor made a disgusted face. “We always hafta have salad. And raspberry ice cream.”

Cookie dough fudge mint chip…

“Salad is good for you,” Angel told Connor. “You should eat all your vegetables,” he paused in thought, trying to remember what modern medicine had to say about children. In his day, salad hadn’t even been a factor. “And drink lots of milk,” he added, realizing that was what the posters meant. “And an apple a day…”

“You really are a Daddy,” Connor cooed, crawling into his lap. “Are you gonna sleep on Mommy’s couch? And buy her chocolates? And make her dinner?’ The boy was staring up at him seriously. “That’s what Shelley says her Daddy does.”

“Shelley?”

“Ah, the ex-girlfriend,” Buffy smirked as she walked back over, Willow and Fred at her side. “We still have to talk more about that, Connor.”

“Yes, Mommy,” Connor looked down at his hands. “Am I gonna be in trouble?”

Buffy knelt down and took his small hands in hers. “There are some things worth fighting for,” she told him firmly, exchanging a glance with Angel over Connor’s head before looking back to her son. “But words, even mean words, aren’t, baby.”

“How do I know what is?”

“You will when you’re older,” Angel told him firmly. “Right now you shouldn’t fight at all.”

‘Thanks,’ Buffy mouthed as she took the seat beside him; Connor immediately shifted so that he was on both his parents’ laps, staring adoringly up at them.

“Mommy, I like Daddy,” Connor announced, throwing his arms around both their necks and kissing each in turn.

“You guys are so cute,” Fred cooed. “My family’s not that cute.”

“Family,” Angel echoed. “My family.”

“Duh, Daddy,” Connor’s voice was so much like Buffy in that moment that Angel couldn’t doubt his parentage.

~*~*~*~

Part Six

“You’re leaving?” Lydia Michaels was Buffy’s closest friend in New York, and her employee at the gym. “Is Spike?”

“Nope,” Buffy smiled sadly. Glad as she was to be leaving for the city and the man she still considered to be home, she’d grown very close to Spike, and she hated leaving him behind. Still, it was for the best, seeing as Spike and Angel would never get along. “Just me and Connor.”

“So you meet some guy in London and drop everything?” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“We didn’t meet in London,” Buffy corrected. “We met when I was sixteen. He’s Connor’s father.”

Lydia gaped at her. “I thought you adopted Connor?”

“I did, but…” Buffy stopped trying and answered “it’s a long story. But I would be leaving anyway; Dawn’s out of school and she’s staying in L.A. and I grew up there. My Dad is still in Los Angeles and my childhood was in L.A.”

“I’ll miss you, boss,” Lydia grinned, squeezing her close. “Need help packing?”

~*~*~*~

“That’s the last of them,” Spike told the movers, slamming the rear door down. The van took off and Spike turned to Buffy. “Do you have to leave at one in the bleedin’ morning?”

“I wanted you to be able to say goodbye,” she told him, hugging him close to her and kissing his cheek.

“Right then, you’re off?” Spike asked, glancing at Buffy’s watch. “You need to be at the airport in an hour.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?” Buffy whispered, pressing her hand to his cheek, toying with the scar on his eyebrow.

“I like New York,” he answered firmly, shaking his dyed head. “’Sides, seeing you and Peaches all romantic like…”

“I know,” she stepped out of his embrace, a tear trickling down her face. “I’ll miss you.”

“Mommy, are we leaving now?” Connor called from his car seat.

“Yeah, baby,” Buffy called back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “Don’t you dare lose touch.”

“Go, Slayer,” he answered. She walked to her car, and Connor shouted his goodbyes out the window. Spike didn’t stop waving even after the car was gone from view.

~*~*~*~

It was the city of dreams, and movie stars, and hope, Buffy remembered as she held her sleeping son in the cab. And family, she thought, looking at her father, who’d met them at the airport, Dawn and Daddy and Angel…

Her relationship with her father was still tense, but she had to give him credit for trying at least. He adored Connor, and she knew he loved her as well. They were trying to grow as close as they’d been before the divorce; she knew Dawn had chosen to stay to get closer to him herself, as well as because of her fiancé.

Her Dawnie was getting married. And she knew what her mother felt like finding out about Angel, because Buffy just wanted to scoop Dawn up and hide her away from Mr. Older-Husband-To-Be. Tom. What kind of name is Tom anyway?

“He’s worn out,” her father commented, breaking Buffy away from thoughts of chainsaws and Tom, which was probably a good thing.

“Long flight,” Buffy explained, running a hand through her son’s hair. “He didn’t sleep on the plane.”

“You never used to either,” Hank smiled fondly. “Dawn would be out like a light, but you could always go 24 hours without sleep if you were on a plane.”

“I was afraid of them,” Buffy recalled. “And dogs. Not as bad as hospitals, but they still terrified me.”

“Me too,” Hank smiled. “Your mother never was afraid, though.”

“Connor’s not either,” Buffy sighed, thinking about his thrall with the window seat and the movies. “He just takes after his father; he wants to take everything new in.”

“Will you be seeing the, um, his father now that you’re here?” Mr. Summers had been given the bare details of Connor’s story; that Buffy had adopted him through a friend in trouble and later discovered that he was actually her own lost son. Under the circumstances, he was handling everything very well, much better than Mrs. Summers would have.

“He deserves to know his son,” Buffy told her father softly. “I love him.”

“Be careful.”

~*~*~*~

Part Seven

“This was really sweet of you,” Buffy smiled across the kitchen table of her apartment. Angel had come around six with chocolates and flowers for her and a new stuffed animal for Connor. Then he’d made them dinner worthy of a gourmet; even Connor had liked it and it had involved asparagus and swordfish.

They’d put Connor to bed and were sitting together drinking champagne in flutes Cordy had sent as a thank you for being involved in her wedding. Over two weeks, Angel had spent time with his son and with Buffy almost every night. From helping to unpack to a carnival to a movie, he was already having trouble remembering a life without them.

Still, neither he nor Buffy had made a move towards romantic involvement since their kiss in the hallway and he wasn’t sure she would ever be interested again. Once someone told Buffy she had to do something, it became the last thing she wanted.

As if reading his mind, she spoke.

“I know you think I’m being stubborn,” she sighed, crossing and uncrossing her legs, and taking a long sip of champagne. “And I am. But I have to be; it wouldn’t have been fair to Connor to pick things up again right away. I wasn’t even sure it was what I wanted.”

“And now?” Angel took her hand in both of his and thought about the ring that had been in his pocket since she’d announced her move to L.A.

“My life is very unstable right now. I’m not working anymore,” she reminded him. Even though Spike still held co-ownership of the gym and sent half the profits to her account, Buffy, Angel knew, loathed staying still. “I stopped slaying when we left Sunnydale. Connor’s had a lot of people go in and out of his life, and he’s lived a lot of different places.”

“Buffy…” she held up a hand to stop him from speaking.

“But he said that he knew the minute he met you that you were his father,” her eyes melted as she said it and Angel smiled at her. “He said you looked at me differently than everyone else. And he’s right; I know he is because that’s how I look at you.”

“And you’re stable; look at you, you’ve lived in the same city all these years, and you have your friends and your job and Connor needs that stability,” Buffy swallowed hard, reaching the end of her speech. “He needs his father. And I need you.”

They sat in stunned silence as Angel realized she wanted him back, and Buffy realized she’d finally said so. After long minutes she begged him to speak, and he stood. “Dance with me?”

She took his hand and let him lead her into the living room, where soft jazz was playing, and he folded her in his arms. “I missed this,” Buffy whispered.

“I missed you,” Angel answered, as they swayed gently, his hand on the small of her back and the other resting on her hip. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, and her head rested on his shoulder.

“I thought I could stop loving you,” she confessed, “if I tried really hard. But it didn’t work.”

“No?”

”I love you more than I did before,” tears were in both their eyes as years of bitter heartbreak washed away. “I love you like a grown up.”

“Don’t cry love,” Angel murmured, using one hand to tilt her chin up and wipe away the tears. “It’s okay now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he laughed gently. “I have something else for you.”

“Angel, you don’t have too…” Buffy blushed. “I mean, you’ve done enough already… that’s a jewelry box.”

“I know you lost your ring,” Angel explained. “And I always planned to give you a more extravagant one.” Flipping the box open, he revealed a gold ring with a red gem for the heart and diamonds in the crown. “Buffy, this ring means commitment to my people. There was a time when the Irish had trouble with marriage ceremonies, and this ring meant the commitment of a marriage without the ceremony. That’s what I want to give you.”

“Oh Angel,” Buffy gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “I… wow. I mean, of course I… wow.”

Having heard her response amidst the babble, Angel threw his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers.

Epilogue

“That’s my grandbaby!” Hank Summers cheered amidst the hundreds clapping in the high school gymnasium, as Connor walked across the makeshift stage.

“There he is!” Dawn squealed, whistling with her fingers in her mouth. Beside her Tom was applauding loudly, with their daughter on his hip. “Aidan, get up,” Dawn whacked the boy next to her playfully. “Your brother’s graduating.”

Aidan, at eleven, couldn’t care less that his brother had made it through high school and was on his way to Stanford - he wasn’t done yet – still he rose dutifully and applauded with the rest of the family.

“There he goes! Mommy he’s going away,” cried three year old Michelle, near tears as her brother didn’t come to sit with the family.

“Duh, stupid!” Kristen, 5, rolled her eyes. Michelle was such a baby some times. “It’s his graduation. He hasta sit up there.”

“Mom, please, stop having kids,” groaned Kelly, their sanest sibling. Buffy and Angel exchanged wry grins.

“Some day,” Angel promised, reaching over to rub number six, still hidden under his mother’s flat stomach. Buffy shot him a warning glance.

He’d been human for twelve years, and she’d been pregnant or at home with a toddler for each of those years. Six was more than enough in her opinion. Of course, once six grew old enough for them to consider another, she’d be in her forties and conception would be harder, anyway.

As her husband’s arm slid around her waist, Buffy realized she’d be carrying Angel’s children as long as she could. He was an Irish Catholic, and she – she was a mother.

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