Disclaimer: We all know the truth. None of these characters are mine, and if I were making money off of them, I could quit my job and go write on a beach somewhere.
Father Issues
Author's Notes: Only two more chapters after this one. Fun, fun.
Wherein Angel shows up, and there are conversations a-plenty.
Let's talk and we'll fill the air/The imagery that lasts forever/So this is love and that's a lovely thought/You have to care for it to keep it together/And if you fall, will you get up/Stuck in a dream, will you wake up/And if you've found love will you hold on to it/And if it's cold, will you stay warm/Drift too far, will you swim towards the shore/And if you've found love will you hold on to it?” ~Azure Ray, “If You Fall”
Buffy heard the sound of car wheels and knew that Angel had arrived. She hoped he’d come alone, but that was probably too much to ask. Sure enough, when he got out of the vehicle, Cordelia was right behind him, followed closely by two people she didn’t recognize.
“Where is he?” Angel demanded as she opened the door.
Buffy smiled, more than a touch of sarcasm in her expression. “Hi, Angel. Come in. It’s nice to see you, too. And you’re welcome. I was happy to risk my life to save your son.”
He paused inside the door. “Buffy—”
“He’s right here,” Dawn said from the living room, Connor in her arms. “Geez. What did you ever see in this guy, Buffy?”
“Connor.” Angel had eyes only for the baby. “He’s so big.”
“We think he’s now about two years old,” Buffy said gently. “Time passes differently in Quortoth.”
“He won’t remember me,” Angel said, sounding dazed.
Buffy winced. “If it makes you feel any better, he won’t remember Holtz, either.”
Angel took a step closer. “Can I hold him?”
“He’s pretty friendly,” Dawn said, her face softening slightly. “Connor? You want to go see your dad?”
“Hey, buddy.” Angel kept his voice low as he stretched out his arms. “You want to come see me?”
Connor seemed to size him up, and then held out his arms. Angel didn’t waste a moment, scooping him up and holding him close. The boy stared at him, his blue eyes wide. Angel glanced up at Buffy. “Thank you.”
“I was glad to do it.” Buffy hadn’t yet brought Spike up, mostly because he was on the back porch, and she knew there would be fireworks when he came in. “Wesley isn’t back yet, Angel, if you still wanted to talk to him.”
Angel nodded. “Yeah. We can wait.”
“Maybe you should give Connor some time to get to know you,” Buffy suggested. “I know you probably want to get back to L.A. with him, but he doesn’t really know you yet.”
The others had stayed quiet up to this point, but Cordelia spoke up. “I think we know what’s best for Connor, Buffy.”
Buffy faced her, hand on her hips. “Is that right? Who went to Quortoth? Who beat off the demonic beasts and made sure he had enough to eat and held him as he slept? Spike and I, that’s who. So I think we know what we’re talking about.”
“Wait, Spike?” Angel demanded.
“Who’s Spike?” the second woman asked. Angel hadn’t bothered introducing her or the tall black man yet.
“My boyfriend,” Buffy replied a little shortly.
“Thought you might wait to drop that little bombshell, luv.”
“Spike!” Angel’s voice was a low roar, and Connor started crying, holding his arms out to Spike, as though to add insult to injury.
Spike started for the boy immediately, but Angel held him close, turning away, his face shifting. “Stay away from my son!”
Connor’s wails grew in intensity, and Buffy stifled a curse. “Angel! Here. Give him to me.”
For a moment, she thought he might strike out at her, but he reluctantly handed the child over. Buffy cradled him to her chest and whispered soothing words just as she had in Quortoth. She heard Dawn shooing their guests into the kitchen, so that only Angel and Spike remained behind.
Once Connor was calmer, she turned to Angel. “Sit down now.” He opened his mouth to argue, and she cut him off. “No, Angel. Sit.”
He did as she asked, and Buffy handed Connor off to Spike. “Take him into the kitchen?” she asked. “We need to talk.”
Spike’s gaze was searching, but he finally nodded. “You got it, Buffy.”
Her hand lingered on his arm, the gesture hidden from Angel’s gaze by her position. “Thanks.”
Once he’d gone, Buffy rounded on Angel. “Do
not upset Connor again, Angel. You don’t know what he’s been through, and while you may not like Spike, Connor does.”
Angel raised his hands in surrender. “I get it, Buffy,” he said tightly. “But that’s my son.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Buffy reminded him. “Give it time, go slowly, and he won’t remember that he was ever with Holtz.”
The muscle in his jaw jumped. “And Spike?”
“He saved my life—a lot, and not just in Quortoth, Angel,” Buffy said gently. “He saved my sister’s life.”
Angel looked at her, and she knew he felt betrayed. “Do you love him?”
“I care about him, and I’m not talking to you about this,” Buffy replied, rising from the couch. “I’ll go get Connor, and you guys can get to know each other a little better.”
She rose from the couch and went into the kitchen. Cordelia was holding Connor, bouncing him on her hip to make him giggle. “Hey. Angel wants to see Connor.”
“I’ll take him in,” Cordelia replied. She hesitated at the door. “Buffy—thanks.”
“Yeah.” The other two followed her out, and Buffy realized that she still didn’t know their names. “Who are they?” Buffy asked her sister in a whisper.
“Fred and Gunn,” Dawn replied. “They seem okay.”
Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “Which one’s Fred, and which one’s Gunn?”
“It’s Winifred,” Spike inserted. “You sure Connor’s gonna be alright with them?”
Buffy sighed. “Angel
is his father.”
Dawn made a face. “Poor kid.”
Spike snickered appreciatively, and Buffy didn’t have the heart to reprimand her.
When the phone rang, she sighed, reaching for it. The last thing she needed right now was an emergency; she had her hands full as it was. “Hello?”
“Hey, Buffy.” Xander’s voice was cheerful. “Anya wanted me to ask if we should come over tonight. Wesley told her that you were calling Angel.”
“He’s here, and he brought friends,” she replied, keeping her voice low. “And no offense, Xan, but having you guys here would just make the house that much smaller.”
“Trust me, I’m very okay with not seeing Dead-Boy,” he assured her. “You’ll tell us how it goes?”
“Sure. Maybe you could come over tomorrow night,” Buffy suggested. She’d have to tell him that she was dating Spike at some point; it might be a good idea to get it over with as soon as possible.
“Sounds good.”
Buffy hung up the phone, and her eyes met Spike’s. What she saw there told her that it didn’t matter how hard things might get; she’d made the right choice.
~~~~~
“Thanks for the ride home,” Tara said, glancing over at Wesley.
He shrugged. “It was my pleasure, and the least I could do after I kept you so late.”
“I didn’t mind,” she replied truthfully. Tara had known that he didn’t want to leave and face Angel, not that she blamed him. Wesley had told her a little more about what had happened over the past months, including how Angel had tried to smother him with a pillow.
“Not that I blame him,” Wesley had added quickly. “After what I did, I would have been surprised if he’d reacted any other way.”
Tara couldn’t help comparing his reaction to having messed up so badly to Willow’s, after she had nearly fried Spike. Willow had been remorseful after her trap caught Buffy, rather than the nerds, but her attitude had been completely different with Spike.
To be so callous, after everything he’d done—well, Tara hadn’t understood it, and that had been the last straw.
Wesley, however, was nearly swallowed up in self-hatred. Perhaps it was merely a result of their feelings towards those they’d harmed. Willow still didn’t much like Spike, while Wesley obviously cared for Connor and Angel.
She wondered if the man knew how much he’d revealed during their time together, both that day and those previous, when they’d worked on opening the portal. Tara didn’t think that he did.
“Do you—” he began, just as she started to climb out of the SUV.
Tara looked back over her shoulder. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” he said, apparently thinking better of what he was going to say. “I should be going. I’m sure Angel is at Buffy’s by now.”
Impulsively, she reached out and gripped his hand. “Call me later if you need to talk. I know what it’s like to leave everything behind.”
Tara didn’t give him a chance to reply, slipping out of the vehicle quickly and closing the door behind her. She hurried inside, smiling. Strange, how you could find friends so unexpectedly.
She stopped as she approached her room. Speaking of the unexpected—
“I was waiting for you,” Willow said, straightening.
Tara crossed her arms in front of herself. “I was at the Magic Box.”
“With who?”
“With Wesley.”
Willow’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were gay.”
Tara blinked. “I prefer women,” she said carefully. “What is this about, Will?”
“Is there a chance for us, Tara?” she asked. “I want to know.”
“Willow—”
“I
need to know.”
Tara was silent; she didn’t know how to respond. Was there a chance? And if there wasn’t, when had it died? Finally, she responded, “No. I don’t think so.”
The other woman stared at the floor. “Why not? Is it because of the magic? I’ve been doing really well, Tara.”
“I know, but—” Tara sighed. “I don’t think we fit together anymore.”
Willow stared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tara didn’t know how to explain it any better than that. “It means that I can’t trust you, Willow.”
Their eyes met, and Tara had to fight not to look away. She wasn’t the one in the wrong here, but neither was Willow. They had changed over the last few years, and now Tara didn’t quite recognize the woman standing before her.
Willow took a step back, as though she’d been struck. “That’s not fair, Tara. I would never hurt you.”
Tara took a deep breath. “You did hurt me, when you made me forget about the fight that we had, and you were willing to hurt someone your friends care about because you were angry with him.”
Willow’s expression turned incredulous. “This is about Spike?”
“No, it’s not. It’s about you and me,” Tara said, her voice sharp. “It’s about the fact that when I suggested you were misusing magic, you blew me off, and then cast a spell to ‘fix’ it. When Spike backed me up, you attacked him. You were ready to kill four people to get your way, and you almost killed two—the two people who have probably saved your life most often.”
Willow’s eyes blazed. “The nerds almost killed you!” she hissed.
“And you thought that killing them would make it better?” Tara demanded, keeping her own voice low. “How do you think I would have felt if three people ended up dying because of me? There was no reason for that, Willow.”
Willow drew herself up. “I guess if you think that, then we really don’t fit together. I thought you’d appreciate the fact that I wanted to take care of the nerds.”
“Not by killing them, Will,” Tara said softly, pleading with her. “Remember? ‘An it harm none, do as ye will?’”
“They hurt you.”
“And they would have been paid back threefold.” Tara took a deep breath. “It’s done now, Will.”
Willow’s mouth tightened. “Right. I’ll see you later, Tara.”
Tara watched her go, and then leaned against the doorjamb. She knew that Willow had only the best of intentions, at least when it came to the nerds—at least if you overlooked the fact that she’d intended to kill them. She knew, however, that whatever you sent out would be returned to you times three.
In fact, that’s exactly what had happened, since all three of them were sitting in the State Penitentiary.
She feared that Willow would step over the line someday, and that nothing would be able to stop her from destroying herself.
~~~~~
Wesley parked on the street, his eyes on Angel’s car. He wondered if the others had come as well, or if they’d stayed behind; he didn’t know what would be easier.
Slowly, unwillingly, he climbed out of the car and approached the front door, knowing that he couldn’t put it off forever. Wesley didn’t bother knocking, knowing that Buffy would have left the front door open for him.
Angel was in the living room, talking quietly to Connor, who was sitting on Cordelia’s lap. It appeared as though the little boy was warming up to him, and he giggled when Angel tickled his stomach.
Fred and Gunn saw him first and almost at the same time. She was leaning against him, his arms around her shoulders as they both watched the reunion. Fred stiffened slightly and pulled away. “Wesley.”
Angel and Cordelia looked up. “Wes.” The vampire didn’t move.
When Connor caught sight of him, he giggled, squirming out of Cordelia’s lap and stumbling over to where he stood. The little boy tugged at his pant leg, and Wesley stood frozen for a moment. He had no idea how Angel would react if he responded to Connor’s demands, but then decided that it didn’t matter.
Besides, Angel was unlikely to kill him while he was holding the boy.
“Hello, Connor,” Wesley said, swinging him up. “Did you have fun today?”
Connor put his out hand, touching the stubble that Wesley hadn’t bothered shaving off. The texture made him laugh again.
“I see you’ve been getting reacquainted,” Angel said tightly.
Wesley kept his voice calm and even as he replied, “We’ve all been taking turns looking after him.”
“I need to talk to you,” Angel said. “Alone.”
Buffy entered the living room. “Is anybody thirsty? I have some sodas in the kitchen.” She took Connor from him, her hand brushing his shoulder. Wesley was grateful for the show of solidarity, particularly since the others refused to meet his eyes as they filed out of the room.
They stood staring at each other for a minute that seemed to last an eternity; Wesley was determined to let Angel speak first.
“You went to Buffy for assistance,” Angel finally said.
“I knew she would help, and that she was one of the few with any chance at surviving Quortoth.”
“Spike went with her.”
“That was none of my affair,” Wesley said, hearing the accusation in Angel’s voice, as though he’d set the two of them up. He was certain that Dawn bore the blame for that, if blame was to be assigned.
The vampire sank down onto the couch. “What am I supposed to do, Wes?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Although he did know—he knew all too well.
Angel met his eyes. “I know you meant this for the best, but you didn’t consult anyone on this. You went out on your own, and you nearly got my son killed.”
Wesley felt the anger rise, hot and quick. “Who was I supposed to consult?” he asked harshly. “Cordelia? She was with the Groosalug. Lorne? We all know that he’s more interested in rebuilding his club than anything else at the moment. Fred or Gunn? That was impossible. That only left you, and I believed the prophecy was a true one.”
“There might have been another way,” Angel insisted.
“What way? And could I risk Connor? Or you?”
Angel was the first to look away, and Wesley knew he’d won that much at least. With the return of Connor, Angel could begin to understand the position he’d been in, and with understanding might come acceptance.
But not forgiveness. Wesley knew that, too.
“I can’t ask you to come back.”
That was all he said, and if Wesley had been hoping for some word of forgiveness, he would have been sorely disappointed. As it was, he’d known what he could expect from Angel. “I know. I expected that.”
There was a mute apology in his eyes when Angel looked up again. “Maybe someday.”
“Perhaps.”
“What will you do?”
“I may stay here for a while,” Wesley replied. “Buffy has indicated that she could use the services of a Watcher, and I still have my private investigator’s license.”
His look turned questioning. “When did you two become such good friends?” Angel asked. “I thought you two hated each other.”
Wesley just shrugged. “We ran into each other unexpectedly a couple of years ago.”
Buffy poked her head into the room. “You hungry, Wes? We’re ordering dinner.”
“Of course. I should get cleaned up, though.” It was an easy way to excuse himself until the food arrived; Wesley had every intention of making himself scarce while Angel and the rest were in town. It would be easier that way.
~~~~~
Spike heard Buffy’s intake of breath as they stepped outside. “Got a little too crowded, huh?”
“You have no idea,” she replied fervently. At his raised brow, she admitted, “Okay, you probably do have an idea. It’ll be good to have my house back.”
“You didn’t have to let him stay there,” Spike pointed out ruthlessly.
Buffy snorted. “Please, Spike. This transition is going to be hard enough on Connor, and Angel doesn’t want to let him out of his sight. What else was I supposed to do?”
Spike shrugged. He didn’t much like the idea of Angel sleeping in the same house as Buffy, but he couldn’t fault her logic. Besides, she’d told Peaches that he was her boyfriend.
And he knew that Angel would have something to say about that before he left town.
“You were really civil,” Buffy observed.
Spike shrugged. “You did say no bloodshed.”
Her reply was a noncommittal “hmm,” and when she didn’t say anything else, he gave her a curious look. “So what about it?”
“What about what?”
“What about me being civil?” Spike asked. “You sounded surprised.”
“Not surprised exactly,” she hedged.
“Then what?”
“The last time my current and ex boyfriends were in the same room at the same time, there were guns and yelling,” she admitted. “This was almost pleasant.”
Spike snorted. “That was only because we were inside your house. Trust me, Peaches will come after me before he leaves town.”
He noticed that Buffy didn’t refute his statement, but she did change the subject. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” She sounded serious, and he frowned. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, not wrong. I just wanted to know what you liked to read. When ‘the telly’s broken.’”
Her accent was terrible, and Spike groaned inwardly. He couldn’t sense any demons nearby, which meant that he had no way to get off the hook this time. Knowing Buffy, she’d persist until he told her—and he couldn’t lie. She’d find out eventually, and he’d be in for it.
“Poetry.”
Spike was expecting laughter. What he got was, “Oh.”
“That’s it?” he asked.
“What did you want me to say?”
“Dunno.” His brow creased. “Is that really all you’re gonna say?”
Buffy shrugged. “I like poetry, too.”
Spike blinked, and then looked away as he asked, “What kinds?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, I like what I’ve read, but I had to drop my poetry class last year after Mom died, you know.”
“You could take it again,” he suggested.
She shook her head. “It’s only offered once a year, and it was filled up this time. Maybe next year, since it’s going to be a while before I graduate.”
“Right,” he replied, feeling tongue-tied and awkward. Spike had thought he knew everything about Buffy, and here she’d surprised him.
“So, what kinds do you like?”
Spike was in for it now, but her initial reaction encouraged him. “Uh, Shakespeare, Browning, Coleridge, Neruda. A few others.”
“Was that so hard to admit?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Haven’t told anyone that in years.”
“Not even Drusilla?”
“She knew. She always knew things like that.”
Buffy nudged him with her elbow. “So, do you have any other deep, dark secrets you want to share?”
Spike shook his head. “No, not really.”
He’d save the fact that he had actually written poetry for another day.