Connor normally dreaded Mondays—so much so that he'd often ignore them all together and instead pretend that he'd been granted an extra Sunday—but this one, this Monday had turned out pretty okay.

He hummed as he called Angel at the hotel. It rang and rang until the machine picked up. He'd begun leaving a quick message when Dawn suddenly intercepted the call.

"Hey!" she said breathlessly.

"Hi," Connor returned. "What's going on over there?"

"Nothing," Dawn said. "Spike and Angel are out. I thought I better let the answering machine handle the calls. I'm not a very good receptionist."

"Where did they go?" Connor asked, hoping Dawn couldn't hear the frown in his voice.

"I dunno," she said easily. "No one ever tells me anything. Are you coming over?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I need to call Angel's cell. House arrest, you know."

"Don't bother. He barely knows how to answer it," Dawn replied, and they both laughed at the truth behind that statement. "Besides, I'm sure it's okay if you're just coming here."

"I'll head that way but give him a call anyway," Connor promised, thinking that Dawn was probably correct in her thinking.

"Okay!" she said excitedly. "See you soon!" She may have even giggled.

Connor shook his head and smiled as he dialed Angel.

"Angel's mobile telephonic device," Spike answered. "How may I direct your call?"

"Hey," Connor said, grinning as he pictured the look Angel must have on his face if he'd been nearby enough to hear that.

"Hey, mate," Spike said warmly. "If you want your dad, you're going to have to hold on a minute. He's currently having his arse handed to him."

"What's going on?" Connor asked quickly. "Do you need me? Where are you?"

"Oh, no," Spike said leisurely, and Connor got a visual of him sitting back and propping up his feet. "Nothing like that. We're fine. Well, I'm fine. Captain Forehead's in a right state."

Connor could hear a scuffle in the background, Angel panting and threatening and the clanging of swords.

"Are you sure?" Connor asked uncertainly. "I mean, I can come help."

"If you really fancy an unnecessary trip through the sewers, be our guest," Spike said. "But really, we'll be all right as soon as Angel here steps up his game a—That's it, kick him in the balls!"

Connor, not entirely sure whose side Spike was on in the whole crotch kicking issue, snapped his phone shut and walked toward the Hyperion. His dad would be okay, and Spike would help when and if he needed him to—he hoped. Angel surely wouldn't be too upset with him for coming over, and besides, it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

Dawn walked excitedly toward Connor as he entered the hotel, but stopped short of entering his personal space. She pushed her hair behind one ear self-consciously and gave him a tentative smile. Being manly, it took Connor a few moments to figure out why she was acting so weird, but he finally realized that she sported a little more makeup than she had the day before and had done something to her hair. He wasn't entirely sure what, but he sensed it was different.

"You look nice," he offered, knowing he'd stumbled into dangerous territory but also knowing that she needed to hear it.

"Thanks," she replied, blushing. "Did you get a hold of your dad?"

"Sorta," he answered, slinging his backpack off his shoulder and depositing it onto the round couch in the lobby.

"I made pizza!" Dawn announced unexpectedly, pulling Connor by the hand toward the kitchen. "I mean, I took the plastic off and put it in the oven, but it still totally counts."

"Cool," Connor said, laughing, as he looked around the hotel's industrial kitchen. "Your frozen pizza may be the finest gourmet item concocted here in decades. I don't think they ever use this stuff."

"They don't," Dawn agreed, pushing a plate of her domestic creation toward him eagerly. "I had to clean the oven before I could even use it. Ugh."

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "It's great. Let's go to the lobby, though. Angel kicked my ass in here once. It's kinda giving me the creeps."

"Okay," Dawn said, following him out. He kind of loved that she didn't seem at all bothered by his previous statement.

"So," Connor said as the two of them took up chairs on opposites sides of the counter. "What happened when you got home last night? Were they mad?"

"You know Angel," Dawn said, rolling her eyes. "He likes to talk and bluster a lot, but he's not so big on the follow through."

"You must know a different Angel," Connor commented.

"I don't know," Dawn said easily. "Maybe he's just different with you."

"Yeah."

"So I was going through this book he won't let me touch," Dawn said suddenly, causing Connor to cough uncomfortably.

"You what?" he asked, needing to hear it again.

"You know, this book," she said, reaching down and hefting it up onto the counter.

"Yeah, but why?" he asked. "I mean, he obviously doesn't want you fooling with it."

Dawn rolled her eyes and waved off his concern.

"Seriously, you might get in trouble," Connor continued. "Not just from Angel. There's probably a good reason he doesn't want you messing with it."

"You're starting to sound more and more like him," Dawn replied accusingly. She flipped through the pages until she reached the one she needed. "Here, look."

Connor really didn't want to look, but he gave the offered page a perfunctory glance anyway.

"Yeah. Okay," he said, returning his gaze to his pizza. "It's a charm bracelet or something. So?"

"So, I think this is what Angel's been looking for," Dawn said excitedly. "And I think I know where it is!"

"Well, you should talk to him about that, then," Connor replied, telling himself that he in no way intended to get involved.

"Please. He won't talk to me about it. We need to just go and get it for him."

"Um, no," Connor replied firmly. "I don't think that we do. The Royal We need to just stay right here."

"Why not?" Dawn asked, pouting. "It would prove to him that I'm not a kid."

"Not to offend you or anything," Connor said carefully, "but that's kind of a kid thing to say."

Dawn set her mouth in a hard line before reaching out, taking Connor's food away from him, and dumping it unceremoniously into the waste basket. She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with a challenge clear in her eyes.

"Okay. I guess I deserved that," Connor said. "Sorry."

Dawn seemed fully prepared to keep up her icy silence until he'd done some proper groveling, but luckily—well, maybe it was luckily—Spike and Angel burst through the hotel doors, giving Connor an excuse to turn his attention from her.

"Dad!" he exclaimed when he saw that Angel was being supported by Spike, who had him round the shoulders. Spike deposited Angel onto the couch next to Connor's backpack.

"I'm okay," Angel said, grimacing and holding onto his leg.

"Yeah, you look okay," Connor said sarcastically, kneeling down to take a look at the wound.

"It's fine. Will heal up in a couple of hours," Angel said dourly.

"What happened?" Connor demanded of Spike, who appeared to be attempting to fade into the background with Dawn.

"Well, I thought he had him!" he said defensively. "Really, I did! How was I supposed to know our big hero here was such a klutz?"

"I told you I could have helped," Connor said hotly, pulling Angel's ripped pants leg away from the gash.

"I'm fine, Connor," Angel said, though he still clutched at his leg. "It's okay."

"I can carry you to your room," Connor offered.

"You will do no such thing."

"But you're hurt. Why won't you let me help you?"

"I. Am. Fine," Angel said pointedly. "And you're not supposed to be here, anyway, last time I checked."

Connor's face flushed with a mixture of shame and aggravation.

"Sorry, okay?" he said quietly. "I wanted to talk to you. I didn't think you'd get pissed off about it. I came straight here and didn't go anywhere else."

"I'm not mad," Angel said gently. "What did you want to talk about?"

"It doesn't matter now," Connor said gruffly, pulling again at the fabric around his father's wound until Angel smacked his hands away.

"I promise it's almost better at this very moment," Angel said, getting to his feet. "See."

He took a step to prove his point, but only sank down into the floor in a heap. Connor grabbed him under the arms to support him and helped him to stand.

"Yeah," Connor said dryly. "I see."

"Maybe I could lie down for a little while," Angel conceded.

"I'll carry you," Connor said quickly, reaching down to scoop Angel's legs into his arms.

"No!" Angel protested. "Just … Just get me to my office. I'll lie on the couch."

Connor helped Angel to the couch and stood over him with a frown.

"Stop hovering," Angel said. "I'm fine. If you could just hand me that book over there..."

Connor tossed the novel Angel had requested to him.

"Do you want me to bandage you up?" Connor asked. "I am totally skilled in first aid."

"No, Connor. Thanks," Angel said, scowling. "But you and I are going to have a talk later about being grounded and what it means."

"What?" Connor said hotly, lowering his voice to make sure the two in the lobby couldn't hear him. "You said you weren't mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then there's nothing to talk about," Connor said petulantly.

"Later," Angel said firmly.

"No," Connor said quietly. "If you want to talk, talk now. We can talk just fine with you lying down. I didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm really not in the mood for this right now, Connor," Angel scolded.

"Fine!" Connor spat. His feelings were kind of hurt, but he tried not to show it. "If you need anything, yell for someone else."

Connor left Angel's office and slammed the door forcefully. He immediately regretted shouting at his father, and his first instinct told him to go back and apologize, but Angel probably "wasn't in the mood" for that, either. Connor huffed. The hushed conversation between Spike and Dawn at the desk abruptly stopped when they saw the look on his face.

"Is he okay?" Dawn asked softly.

"He'll live."

"He needs some blood," Spike said. "We're out; I should go get him some."

"I'll get it," Connor said immediately, heading for the door even though he wasn't exactly sure where he was going.

"Are you sure, mate?" Spike asked, quickly coming from around the front desk so he could speak to Connor semi-privately. "I mean, your papa won't be laid up on that sofa forever."

Connor shrugged, feeling the stormy expression on his face but unable to change it.

"I'll get it," he repeated glumly.

"In for a penny, in for a pound, then," Spike said, relenting. "There's a butcher three blocks east. Just tell them it's for Angel. They won't ask any questions."

"Thanks," Connor said.

"Connor, wait!" Dawn said as he'd almost made it through the doors.

"What?" he asked coolly, watching as she threw a sidelong glance at Spike, who'd already gone about his own business.

"There's a magic store on the way," she said softly. "You'll see the one I mean. Go in there and see if they have the Oxley Charm."

"The what?" Connor asked, his father's injury having pushed all other thoughts out of his mind.

"The Charm," Dawn repeated in a whisper. "The one from the book. It's called the Oxley Charm."

"I don't know, maybe," Connor said dismissively, really just wanting to get to the butcher shop.

"Please," Dawn said, touching him gently on the arm. "Just see if they have it, that's all. I think it's in there."

"Maybe," Connor said, pulling away from her and turning toward the door. "But I'm not promising anything."

"Thanks!" Dawn said excitedly, clearly having taken his direct statement to the contrary as a promise that he would go.