Hi, guys. Thanks as always for the nice reviews and suggestions! I've been sick and haven't felt much like writing or doing anything else. This is kinda short and actionless, but it's all I've got in me right now.

Connor took yet another deep, steadying breath, stretched his neck, and flexed his arms as he paced nervously back and forth in front of the kitchen table. He was going to tell his father a thing or two, that was for sure. Well, maybe not for sure, exactly. But it was definitely the plan.

"Morning, pal," Angel said as he entered the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

"Dad," Connor said, half in greeting and half to get his attention.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, returning to the table and picking up the newspaper there without really giving Connor a second glance.

"Dad," Connor repeated, snatching the paper out of his hands. "Listen."

"Yeah?" Angel asked slowly, watching as Connor tossed the newspaper on the counter behind him.

"We need to talk."

Whew. There. He'd said it. It hadn't been so hard, either. He could do this.

"What is it, son?" Angel asked, not unkindly.

He had a feeling he knew exactly what Connor intended to say, but he'd hear him out anyway.

"Dad..." Connor stopped and cleared his throat nervously. "Um … About last night. You … I … I don't approve of how you handled it. That's right, I said it."

Angel did his best to hide the slight grin that was trying to spread across his face. He replaced it with the most serious look he could muster.

"You don't?" he asked.

"No," Connor said resolutely. "I mean, yeah, maybe he kinda deserved a … to get it, but you were harsh, Dad. You can't just … do that with the … the belt and then leave the room like that. It isn't right. You never did that to me, not like that. Kids need closure. They need to know that they've been forgiven. You should have seen how upset he was. He thinks you hate him!"

Angel nodded and took a long, infuriatingly calm drink of his coffee, but didn't reply. He simply invited Connor to continue with his gaze.

"He also heard you talking to Willow, apparently," Connor said. "And that didn't help matters."

"She said there's nothing she can do for him," Angel interjected. "But that she wouldn't mind some pictures."

"That's not the point!" Connor interrupted.

"Connor," Angel said firmly, trying not to get upset at the criticism because he knew that he really had no right to be. "I know you don't approve of my methods. But why don't you wait until you have a little hellion of your own who runs off and stays gone half the night—and I bet you will someday. If you can get through that without getting angry and losing your cool, then we'll talk about this again."

Angel neglected to include the part where he'd been scared out of his wits that something bad would happen to Will, and how having a child leave of his own volition managed to hurt so much more than having one taken from him.

"Fine, Dad. Whatever," Connor murmured, turning to make more coffee even though the pot wasn't empty.

This conversation hadn't quite gone like he'd envisioned it. In his vision, Angel saw reason and praised him for being right all along, and vowed never to spank in anger—it was too much to hope for never at all—again. But no, his dad was as stubborn and hardheaded as he always was.

"G'morning," Spike said as he entered the kitchen, much too chipperly, Connor thought.

He turned and eyed him suspiciously, and felt his jaw drop when he saw Spike give Angel a big hug before he ran straight to him and did the same.

"Um. Hi," Connor replied stupidly, still holding the half-full coffee pot out in front of him. "How … Uh … How did you sleep?"

"Good!" Spike replied, picking up the paper and bringing it back to the table, where he sat down easily beside Angel as if that were the most natural place for him to be.

"Can I have the Living section?" Angel asked.

"Yeah," Spike said, digging through the pages and handing over the requested sheets. "I only want the funnies anyway."

Angel looked up at Connor and gave him a wink, and somehow—even though it shouldn't have—that made it all better. He set the coffee carafe back on the warmer and started to join the rest of his family, but Spike interrupted him.

"Connor, can we have pancakes for breakfast?" he asked, not bothering to look up from Garfield.

"I … Yeah," Connor said. "I can do that. If you want. Dad? You want something, too?"

"Do we have strawberry topping?" Angel asked.

Connor didn't reply. He just shook his head disbelievingly, smiled, and got to work making breakfast. Spike certainly didn't look grown, but he seemed more like his old self—well, he did and he didn't. His old self wouldn't be sitting so close to Angel, especially not after the events of the previous night. They must have had some sort of interaction that Connor didn't know about. Either that, or Spike had the memory of a goldfish and some serious ADHD.

"Why?" Angel asked himself wearily. "Why does it always have to be like this?"

Spike had been fine. He'd been more than fine—he'd been happy, or so it seemed. That happiness had barely extended past breakfast, however, and now the teenager was throwing quite possibly one of the worst fits that Angel had ever witnessed.

He sidestepped another CD that came whizzing over the banister from above. He'd caught the first few, but this one he just let fall to the floor with a clatter. If Spike wanted to destroy all his music, fine. Let him. He would regret it, and then would Angel have mercy on him and buy him replacements? Absolutely not.

"You need to calm down right now!" Angel called again, sounding anything but calm himself.

"Sod off!" Spike yelled back.

Connor arranged himself more comfortably in his chair with his legs dangling off the side and continued to pretend to read. He'd been watching this spectacle since the beginning, but he didn't dare do anything to get himself involved.

"Why are you smiling?" Angel snapped, and it took a moment for Connor to realize he was speaking to him.

Damn. Had he been smiling?

"Sir?" he asked innocently.

"Don't you even—" Angel started, but he was interrupted by the softball that managed to whack him between the shoulders while his back was turned.

Connor winced sympathetically while his dad tried to play it off like it hadn't hurt.

"He was fine!" Angel exclaimed to his son. "What—I don't—he was fine!"

Angel sank down onto the couch and propped his head on his hands.

"You could always go up there and spank the daylights out of him again," Connor suggested semi-seriously.

"I'll spank you if you keep up the sass," Angel threatened, but his tone indicated total defeat.

"Hey, I'm mindin' my own business," Connor said, turning back to his book.

"And I hate you!" Spike shouted venomously before slamming his bedroom door—the door that Angel had finally fixed for him that very morning.

Angel let out a sigh of relief. At least if the little monster was in his room feeling sorry for himself, he wouldn't be throwing any more projectiles for awhile.

"I don't understand this," he mumbled. "I told him last night he was grounded. Why is he just now so surprised by the news?"

"You told him he was grounded," Connor said simply, keeping his eyes trained on page ninety-eight. "You probably didn't tell him that meant no TV, huh?"

"He should have known," Angel argued.

"How?" Connor challenged. "How would he have known what you meant unless you were specific? He probably thought you just meant he couldn't go out and do anything."

"He already couldn't go out and do anything," Angel said.

"Exactly," Connor said, nodding. "So it didn't matter that much, did it? But when you took away television, well... You know how much he loves television."

"I can't do anything right," Angel said with disgust.

"Dad, are you not listening?" Connor asked with a smirk. "You nailed this one. He loves television. He loves television more than he hates getting spanked. Obviously."

"You never acted that way when I grounded you," Angel said, frowning as the discord of loud punk music from upstairs suddenly assaulted his ears.

"Yeah, well, I really hated—hate," Connor amended with a slight blush, "getting my ass beat. Plus, who knows how I would have reacted at thirteen? I like to think I was a little more reasonable by the time you became my dad."

"I have always been your dad!" Angel reacted passionately. "Always!"

"Oh, I-I know," Connor said awkwardly, searching for some way to backpedal out of that wrong choice of words, but not succeeding. "You know what I meant."

"No, you're right. I missed your whole childhood," Angel lamented, leaning back in his seat and pressing his fingers almost painfully into his closed eyes. "I wish I could do it again, Connor. I'd do it right if I could."

Connor sighed. Angel was about to descend into one of his self-loathing spirals, and it was sometimes hard to bring him back.

"Dad," he said, finally abandoning his book for good and sitting down close beside his father. "We've been over this. I know you now. I love you now. None of the rest of it matters."

Angel put his arm around his son and was pleased when Connor leaned into him and rested his head on his chest. The vampire knew he was being dramatic again—Connor was always calling him on that—and he knew that his boy didn't deserve to be put through the wringer of his many mood swings, so he tried to pull himself together.

"I wish I could have seen you as a child," he murmured, unable to let the topic go completely. "Even just once..."

"Dad, if you're getting any ideas about having Spike's curse put on me!" Connor exclaimed, pulling back in alarm. "No way in Hell. Nuh uh and no how."

"What?" Angel asked, and his nervous laugh didn't much put Connor's mind at ease. "Son, I would never do that to you!"

But maybe, just maybe, for the tiniest, most fleeting of moments, the thought had crossed his mind.

"I mean it, Dad!" Connor said resolutely. "No fucking way. I am serious here."

"Connor, I promise," Angel said quickly. "I wasn't thinking anything of the sort."

"Well, just … see that you keep it that way," Connor said warily as he got to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Angel asked.

"I'm gonna go talk to baby brother," Connor said, pointing upstairs.

"Oh, good," Angel said. "To see if you can calm him down?"

"No," Connor said wryly, shaking his head and giving Angel a half-smile that wasn't exactly pleasant. "To commiserate about dear old Dad."