Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Angel character. They belong to Joss Whedon.

Getting up, Spencer felt like he had ice in his veins. How could this be? The only safe, honest, reliable people he had been taken care of by had been lying to him since they'd met him. It was just like every other story in his life. "You lied to me," he repeated, now a little louder as his rage grew, "you knew who my real father was the whole time!"

Brushing past them all, he quickened his pace as he heard their footsteps following him. All he wanted right now was to get out of there. Out of Wolfram and Hart. Out of Los Angeles. "Spencer, we need to talk," he heard his father plead, but he turned on him. "Talk about what? How you're a liar? How you knew all along, but let me believe something else," he knew he'd regret the words later, but right now didn't care.

"I know you're upset. . .," Wesley started but was cut off by the boy's scoff. "I don't think upset covers it," Spencer retorted, taking a step backwards into another hallway, continuing his escape, then turning his back on them and feeling a sharp pain in his body. "Spencer," Fred rushed to his side, taking his hand in hers, but the boy brushed it off, glaring at the mail cart that had just hit him.

"Get away from me," he said, low, angry. Standing, he continued on his way, this time only his father followed, and deciding that being nice was getting them no where, he went with a more stern approach. "Listen to me, Spencer. You may not like the fact that we lied to you, but we did it for you. For your protection." Spencer was almost able to see this point, but that didn't help the feeling of betrayal that had settled on him.

"You lied because you wanted me to think that you were the only parents I had in this world, when actually I have a father that's alive and who was not in jail," Spencer said, stopping now to face the man he had grown to love over the past seven years. "Yes, Spencer, a father that's in jail now for breaking into our house, attempting robbery at another house with you as an accomplice, shooting, then kidnapping you," Wesley shot back, his voice rising.

The look on Spencer's face told him that he had gone too far, though. "Well, that's where I came from," Spencer said, a little more weak than before. Sighing, Wesley rubbed his eyes, "I'm sorry. I. . .," he began to apologize and try to amend, but Spencer shook his head, "no, it's true. My mom was a. . .," Cutting him off by shaking his head, Wesley watched as his son walked off. He knew Spencer wouldn't be leaving the building, but also knew he needed some time alone to think about everything. Perhaps talking to him later would be best.

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Stalking off, Spencer felt loneliness creeping over him. Who could he talk to? His brother and sister wouldn't understand. They had never had a life like his. His mother and father wouldn't understand, and besides they had lied to him for seven years. They had also taken care of him though. So often they had sat up through the night when he had a fever, or taken him to the park instead of working.

Had Greg succeeded in kidnapping him, would that have been the story? Probably not. Spencer didn't know how many parks you could visit while on the run from the law. There was another question, too. Would Spencer, himself, be in jail for stealing had his parents not taken him in.

He didn't care. Lying was lying, and they had lied to him, a big one, too. He had every right to know who his real father was. No one should keep that from him. Especially not now that was almost an adult, or so he figured. Continuing his walk, he found himself in the hospital ward of Wolfram and Hart. The hallways seemed almost deserted. This was a good place to be alone.

Looking into the rooms, he found one that had no visiting family members in it and sat, and dozed. . .

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"Hey, who are you," a female voice said from somewhere in the room. Sitting up, suddenly wide awake, Spencer found a light-brown haired lady looking upon him. "I uh. . .what," he asked, a little startled. Was he going to be in trouble for being there? "I asked who you were," she said, again, this time a little less defensive.

"I'm Spencer," he said, standing. Should he get a nurse or something? "Okay, Spencer. What's your last name," she asked, now more inquisitive, making him feel somewhat at ease. "Spencer Wyndam Pryce. Should I get a doctor or. . .," he began but was cut off by her squeal.

"Geese, what's wrong," he asked, running to her side to make sure there wasn't any bleeding or anything, but she just stared at him with a smile. "Wesley has kids. Damn! How long have I been out? Oh my God, let me guess, he got with Fred," she said, very excited, and staring at Spencer intently.

"Um. If by 'got', you mean married, then yeah. How do you know them," he asked, as she smiled to him again. She had a really nice smile he noted. "Their my friends. I'm Cordelia Chase. You have your mom's eyes, you know," she replied, causing a burning feeling in the pit of Spencer's stomach. "They're not my real parents, I'm adopted," he murmured. He hated telling people this.

"Oh, well, you looked well cared for, so they can't be that bad. I mean, I was worried about Fred being a mom for awhile because, I mean, you know, trapped in a hell dimension. Doesn't really bring out the maternal side of people, more the crazy side, but you, you look normal," she ranted. "Yeah, well, they're okay, I guess," he said, a little too quickly.

Catching onto the anger that had crossed the boy's face, and the way he had seemed to want to get away from the topic of Wesley and Fred so quickly, Cordelia looked down her nose at him. "What," she asked. "What do you mean, what," he replied, taking a seat by her bed. "I mean, are you in some sort of trouble? Let me guess. He makes you read those boring, old books for punishment," she said, remembering all the time she had spent looking through volumes about demons with her old friend. So boring!

"Not quite," Spencer looked at the floor. What could it hurt? She didn't really know the situation. For heaven sake, she had been in a coma for who knew how long. "They lied to me," he finally decided it was safe to tell her. Leaning in, intent on hearing what the boy had to say, she motioned for him to continue, "about my real father. They knew who he was and they didn't tell me," he said.

"Well, that doesn't sound like Wesley or Fred. How did you find out," she prompted. Looking up, Spencer began recalling his adventure in the record room, and how he had ended up there. Taking it all in, Cordelia couldn't help but see her friends in this child. The way he talked, somewhat awkwardly. That was Wesley and Fred for sure!

"And where is your real father, Greg," she finally asked after he paused. Averting his eyes to the floor, Spencer took his time in answering, "jail." Feeling the need to explain how he had been raised, then come to live with his parents, and then shot and kidnapped, Spencer let the words flow from him without any interruptions from Cordelia.

Nodding, as he finished, she shrugged, "well, it seems to me, that this is pretty obvious." Raising an eyebrow, Spencer shook his head, "what do you mean?" Rolling her eyes, Cordelia leaned forward, "I mean you're just another typical teenager who can't see what their parents are doing for them." "Oh, yes, lying to me, thanks a lot Mom and Dad," he retorted.

Throwing her arms in the air, she sighed, "face it, you really love them, and deep down you understand why they lied to you. They thought they were doing the best thing for you. It's what people do when they really love you," she said, taking in the still skeptical look on Spencer's face, then continuing, "and besides, this other father of yours shot you didn't he? I don't see you running to him for any type of comfort right now. No, you're talking to just-woke-up-from-a-coma girl, instead. Do you see my point?"

Still staring at the floor, Spencer nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, they should have let me see him. He is my dad. He shot me, but he's the only real family I have. I mean. . .he doesn't really care for me, does he," the boy let himself realize. "God, he shot me and left me, and he's my real father, and my dad sat with me at the hospital." Smiling, Cordy knew she had done her job. "It doesn't mean that he doesn't care for you, it just means he doesn't care for you as much as my friends do, and believe me, it seems like they care for you a lot."

Looking up, Spencer smiled, "yeah, they do, don't they?" Standing, he bent down and hugged her, "thanks a lot." Hugging him back, Cordelia pulled him close. "You've got to go back, now, sweetheart," she whispered. "Yeah, I'll go find my parents and apologize," he replied. Pulling away, Cordelia nodded, "they'll be waiting for you when you wake up, I guarantee it," she smiled as he shook his head, "when I wake up?"

Suddenly, a white light filled the room, and then faded to black, and Spencer felt a throbbing in his head. "Ow," he moaned, then brought his hand to his head. "Wes, he's awake," he heard his mother say from somewhere near him. "Spencer, Spencer," Wesley said as the boy opened his eyes, "how do you feel?"

Squinting at the bright light, Spencer sat up quickly and hugged his father, "I'm sorry for everything I said! You're the best dad in the world!" Smiling to Fred, Wesley gently pressed his son back onto the couch. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Now, how do you feel? You had quite the run in with a mail cart."

"Mail cart? How long have I been out," Spencer asked a little dazed. "About two hours. We've been worried. Listen, Spencer, we're sorry we didn't tell you, it's just," waving a hand for his mother to stop explaining, the boy shook his head. "It's okay, you did what you thought was best for me. Cordelia helped me see that."

Exchanging glances, both adults looked to their son in surprise, "Cordy," Fred asked. "Yeah, she's awake from her coma," Spencer said, looking around for a sign of the woman he had been talking to not moment before. Shaking his head, Wesley shrugged to his wife, and handed Spencer a cold compress, "perhaps we should just keep an eye on you for awhile," he said.

Just then, the phone rang. Leaving Spencer on the couch, Wesley stood and answered it as Fred took his place, and Henry came closer, curious about how the bruise on his brother's head felt. Pressing the ice pack to his head and laying back down at his mother's insistence, Spencer watched his father on the phone.

"I see. . .yes. . .I'll be there in a moment," he said, rather amazed at what he was hearing. Hanging up, he made a quick dash for the door, "I'll be back in a moment," he said, but Fred caught him with a question, "what's going on?" Turning, he looked from Fred to Spencer, as if he was amazed by the boy, "Cordelia's awake."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow! So, what did you think? Please review!