AUTHOR: Eloise
TITLE: Home
SPOILERS: set post AtS Season 4
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I promise to put them back when I've finished.
NOTES: Connor takes a vacation with his dad before he goes to college...
Lyrics quoted from traditional Irish song "Rathlin Island"
Home
The wind rips across the beach, lashing stinging spray on his face and he gulps a breath of cold salt-soaked air and hangs on grimly. It pulls him up, and he's flying; soaring above the line where grey sky meets the waves. He's weightless, joyfilled; and he knows he's yelling exhilarated obscenities with abandon, but he can't stop himself.
When he hits the water it slaps him hard, and he's gasping. He's dragged under, the weight of the sodden silk of the kite holding him there. He swallows brine and he's thinking that his Dad is going to kill him. But strong arms are pulling him to the surface and he hears laughter, and realizes with embarrassment that it's really not that deep. He views the wrecked kite with chagrin.
They chuckle and tease him in that warm burr that he thinks sounds Scottish, but his Dad tells him isn't.
"Och, you took your hand off the bar, so you did. Daft eejit." There's no malice in the gentle rebuke. They check that he's okay, and someone tells him to wave to the shore where he's pretty sure his dad's having a small coronary.
When they haul the kite back onto the beach, his dad comes up and Connor gives him the look, the 'hug me here and you'll never see your grandchildren' look. So he stops short, just does the hand on the back, manly patting thing that makes Connor squirm, but he lets him.
"You okay?"
Connor nods and the fit of coughing that brings up a mouthful of salt water doesn't exactly support his assertion, but his dad manages to curb his more demonstrative paternal tendencies.
"Dad, did you see? Did you?" He sounds like he's five years old and has gone round the block on his bike for the first time. He takes a calming breath. "That was cool." Unlike him, obviously. His dad nods his agreement and offers him a towel, and Connor can physically feel him trying not to ask if he's sure he's okay.
They walk up the beach to the hire car, and there's a light mist of drizzle in the air. Connor hears himself jabbering away as they walk, buzzing like he's on a caffeine high. His dad walks beside him, and his boots leave prints in the wet sand. Connor thinks back to summer holidays at the lake shore, when he would walk behind his father and try to put his feet into his prints. Walking in his footsteps.
He's so glad now that he persuaded him to come here. The trip to England had been his dad's idea, to see the universities he's applied to. And he had adored Oxford, just as his dad had predicted. Then a trip to the West Country, where it rained a lot, and they visited with one of his Dad's business colleagues from before he started lecturing at the community college.
Apparently Connor was just a baby last time they met, but they've kept in touch. He was an old guy, older even than Connor's father, but he was cool. He took them down the road to the local pub, and bought a round of beer for the three of them. His dad just raised his eyebrow, knowing he didn't have a leg to stand on. Connor had already decided it was worth studying here for the licensing laws alone. He'd counted the number of pubs within staggering distance of each of the halls of residence, and was almost willing to make his choice of college on that factor alone.
Ireland had been Connor's idea. He's always wanted to visit this country, and as soon as his dad starting talking about the England trip, Connor had suggested a trip across the Irish Sea. They're up in the North now, and it rains here even more than it did in the West Country, but Connor doesn't mind. The rain washes down the windows and his dad turns on the wipers.
"See, I told you this would be a great place to visit."
"You did." His dad smiles broadly. "It is."
"We could come here on vacations," he points out helpfully.
"We could." His dad watches the road, and Connor marvels how at ease he is with the right hand drive and stick shift.
"We could think about maybe buying a holiday cottage or something." He says it casually, fiddling with the radio until his dad smacks the back of his fingers lightly.
"And I'm assuming you've got brochures and a sales pitch all worked out." He sighs. "Pick a station, please."
Connor finds a local station; and a gentle folk song is playing. "That's nice. Leave it there."
"Sailing southwards from Rathlin Island,
Past Fairhead and by Murlough Bay.
Wi' a North wind to drive us onwards,
What care we for the wind or spray."
They drive along a coastal road, a high cliff on one side, the blue grey ocean on the other. Tiny cottages nestle against the cliff, and Connor wonders if they could afford one of these. It's growing dark now, and they're not far from their own holiday cottage.
"We could go to the Distillery tomorrow."
"I'm beginning to suspect the reason you want to study in Britain." But there's a grin on his dad's face. "I've always wanted to do the Bushmills tour." He turns into their lane.
"About the studying at Oxford thing; you don't mind, do you?" He looks at his father, who has just turned off the ignition. He can't read the expression on the man's face.
"No, Connor, I don't mind. I'm incredibly proud of you, and will miss you desperately, but I don't mind." It comes out in a rush, and it's not like Connor doesn't know it already, but it's hard to hear it out loud. He ducks his head shyly.
His dad reaches over and places his hand on the back of Connor's neck, and rests it there briefly. Then he opens the car door and gets out. Connor isn't sure why he stops halfway to the door of the cottage. He gets out of the car, then, and sees the figure in the shadow of the porch.
"Dad?"
The stranger steps out from the shadows. He's tall, younger than his dad, and the black clothes he's wearing contrast sharply with his pale skin. Connor goes to his dad, touches him lightly on the shoulder.
"Dad?" He tries again, but his father does not answer. Connor can feel him trembling. "Dad, come on, you're freaking me out here."
The stranger smiles. "Hello, Wesley. Long time no see."
His father squares his shoulders. "Hello, Angel."