Angel opened his eyes and instantly shut then again. His head was pounding, the sound almost tangible.
"Liam! Open this door this instant!" The voice yelled as it pounded the door.
Ok, it was tangible.
Bolting upright Angel looked over at the old wooden door that enclosed his bedroom some 250 years ago. 'Huh?' He thought confused, looking around at the space he hadn't seen since the night he left home to spite his father.
"Liam!" The angry voice boomed again from behind the door, his father's voice.
Not understanding what the hell was going on, he slipped from his bed and glanced down at the long hair tickling his shoulders. 'Haven't worn my hair like this in 100 years.' He mused before the pounding on the door intensified.
Quickly unlatching the door he found it suddenly thrown open and the enraged face of his father inches from his own.
"Damn you boy! Have you no shame! Séamus Walsh just informed me of your indiscretions with his daughter, she was to be wed next month! Her fiance aborted the wedding! The devil lives in you boy, and I won't stand to let the devil in my home!" William O'Connor shouted to the shocked Angel, his memories replaying in perfect 3D surround sound.
When his fathers hand struck hard across his jaw the pain and the resulting blood filling his mouth assured him this wasn't just a dream, he was here.
He faulted back, not from the blow itself, but of the reality of it. He looked down at himself, saw the 18 year old body he hadn't worn in centuries aborning his flesh. His eyes returned to his father's furious gaze. "Get out." The elder man spat, "Get out of my home you filthy demon."
...
A rush, a feeling of disorientation filled his again shut eyes as the world shifted around him.
When his eyes reopen he looked over at his little sister Kathy's young but red and swollen face, "It's alright Liam, father was right to be angry with me. I shouldn't 'ave dropped the water bucket." She told him guiltily, feeling she was worthy of their father's rage.
Angel felt a surge of protectiveness over his baby sister, the same surge he felt then. He'd been kicked out of the house, it'd been almost a month after their last fight. He'd crossed paths with his sister, he'd see her weekly to keep in touch. When he'd seen what their father had done to his beloved sibling's beautiful face, he'd nearly lost it, vengeance screaming in his heart.
"How dare he touch you!" He felt himself say, felt his body moving as it did then. He took her small form into his arms, the little girl only being 4, and marched her back to his temporary residence. He'd patched her up, kissed away her tears. "I promise you my sweet Kathy, he'll never touch you again." He'd vowed to her, knowing his place was with her, in their home. He'd bare his father's beating, he'd bare anything to keep the only love in his life safe.
...
The scene shifted again, the world replaying his final night at home in his head and around him. It was nearly 8 years later. He was 26 and Kathy 13. His baby sister was engaged to a wealthy man, a man well known and liked by Liam, and soon to be out of their father's home forever. He could speak his mind now to his father, tell the old bastard he'd be leaving for good.
He stumbled up to his mother and sister, the air of finality wafting off him in waves. Or it could have been ale...he'd downed a sinful amount already.
William O'Connor shouted from behind him. "Liam! You'll do as I say." The boy had never disobeyed a direct order, he knew his place.
Liam knelt to his precious baby sister, "Sweet Kathy. No tears. We'll meet again." He smiled to her, knowing she would be well loved.
William spat, "Defy me now, you won't. - Not as long as I live." The older man raged, not to be ignored.
Liam gave him a blank expression, "You'll want to move away from the door now, father."
Realization washed over William, seeing the boy was serious,"Go through it, but don't ever expect to come back."
Liam sighed, "As you wish, father. Always, *just* as you wish."
Anger rolled up again, "It's a son I wished for – a man – instead God gave me you! A terrible disappointment." He spat again, wishing his first born son had lived, that this weak disappointment of a son had died in his stead as he should have as a baby.
Liam scoffed, outraged at the disillusion his father bore, "Disappointment? A more dutiful son you couldn't have asked for. My whole life you've told me in word, in glance, what it is you required of me, and I've lived down to your every expectations, now haven't I?"
"That's madness!" The older man cried, knowing this son was nothing compared to the one he lost.
Liam shook his head, "No. The madness is that I couldn't fail enough for you. But we'll fix that now, won't we?" He turned towards the door, more than ready to be free of the overbearing weight of his father's cold stare.
"I fear for you, lad." William whispered.
"And is that the only thing you can find in your heart for me now, father?" Liam shot back, not expecting an apology or a admittance of guilt, but he'd had a small shred of hope. Some deep buried spec of need cried for his father's approval, to see his eyes fill with pride, to have a sliver of love.
"Who'll take you in, huh? No one!" He tried for threat, to make his stubborn seed see reason, that he couldn't live without him...but in truth he knew without an 'heir' to his business and name, he was the one with nothing.
Liam scoffed at that, knowing a number of woman who would welcome him into their beds, "I'll not lack for a place to sleep, I can tell you that. Out of my way." He pushed past his father, eager for his first true bite of freedom, his mouth watered for it.
"I was never in your way, boy." He fired back, feeling the sting of loss washing over him.
Liam ignored his old man, opened the door and stormed out. Ready for the world beyond his father's tyranny.
"If you'll go courting trouble, you're sure to find it!" The empty threat barked out at him, but he just smiled to himself and slamming the door. He was a free man.
...
The world shifted and Angel felt the drink swirling in his belly as he flirted with a barmaid. The potent liquid muddling his mind and bringing a grin to his lips as he ate the offered grapes from the young woman's hands. He knew he'd find shelter between her thighs tonight, and the thought brought a full smile to his lips.
Flashing again, and he was wandering drunkenly out of the pub. The pretty bar-maiden long forgotten as he'd spotted a striking blond in a wealthy dress watching him. Her 'come hither' smile tightening his loins.
He saw her disappear just inside the alley across the bar, his inebriated mind untethered by drink, he followed. Eager to taste her, to let her beauty cure him of his pain. He knew this alley well, had many willing woman pressed against it's brick walls. Many have lost their innocence here, as he expected this lovely woman with her back to him would tonight. "So, I'd ask myself...what's a lady of your station doing alone in an alley with a reputation that this one has?"
"Maybe she's lonely." Darla's alluring voice called out, still not facing him, waiting for him to stumble into her trap.
Liam grinned, "In that case, I'd offer myself as escort to protect you from harm and to while away the dull hours."
Her voice accepted his offer, "You're very gracious."
Liam agreed, "Hm. It's often been said." Flirting back.
She turned to face him, knowing her looks would draw him like a moth to flame, with much the same result. "Are you certain you're up to the challenge?" She mocked playfully, looking him up and down, eager to taste him as much as he her, but not quiet in the same way.
His eyes roamed her body, ensnared in the net of her charms and body. "Milady, you'll find that with the exception of an honest day's work, there's no challenge I'm not prepared to face." He looked up into her eyes, seeing her face for the first time. "Oh... But you're a pretty thing. Where are you from?" He asked, never having set his eyes upon her before, which is hard in a small village, and a little mindful she may have a wealthy and jealous husband lurking somewhere. Truth be told, as long as he doesn't interrupt, he wouldn't much pay it mind.
She smiled at his charms, revealing straight white teeth. "Around. Everywhere." She played.
A pang of regret washed over him, he promised his sister once he'd show her the world when he could. "I never been anywhere myself. Always wanted to see the world, but..."
"I could show you..." She offered with her smile, sizing him up, thinking he would make a wonderful traveling companion...once the soul and heartbeat were discarded of course. Darla always enjoyed when a man willingly gave her his life, she took a great joy in it.
"Could you, then?" He asked, intrigued that perhaps he'd find more than a single night of mindless pleasure in her arms.
She almost had him, so close, "Things you've never seen, never even heard of." She reeled him in like a hooked fish.
His smile widened, "Sounds exciting." This is what he'd always wanted isn't it? To be free of his father's rules, to see the world, to lay in the arms of the most beautiful woman he'd yet had his eyes on. Hell if he could do that on this woman's dime he could settle to be a sex toy as payment.
'You're mine.' Darla thought, "It is. And frightening." She agreed, and set the stage to take him.
Liam shook his drunken head, "I'm not afraid. Show me. Show me your world." He unknowingly signed his life away.
"Close your eyes." She breathed out, and he eagerly and foolishly obeyed, sinking into her embrace and expecting a kiss.
He barely heard the growl from her fanged smile before her teeth sank into his flesh. His eyes snapped open, drink purged from his mind.
The rate of blood loss is too much, he feels his body weakening and the next thing he feels is her hands tangled in his hair, pressing his face into her chest, her blood welling under his lips too temping not to take.
...
Angel felt the world sift again, this time seeing what happened next from the other side of the ground.
He watched in sympathy for their pain as his mother and sister were crying over his grave. While his father stands perfectly straight looking ahead, unblinking and emotionless.
A Priest stood over his grave, speaking to the few who stood by. "Taken too soon from the bosom of his family, a man of just 20 years and 6, Liam was well-loved by everyone he met. Receive this your humble servant. We pray that you may take his eternal soul into your care, Father."
Angel watched as time sped by, his grave being filled in. The only mourner still standing beside the grave is his father, still staring straight ahead.
He glanced down at his grave stone he saw his name and below, 1727 – 1753, Beloved Son.
Time shifted forwards again and he saw himself rising from his grave, felt the soil parting from his fingers as he freed himself from the earth.
Darla walked up to him, watching in satisfaction, smiling as her 'son' re-birthed.
Darla helped the newly sired Liam to his feet, "Welcome to my world. It hurts, I know, but not for long. Birth is always painful."
Liam breathed hard, more from exertion and habit than actual need for breath, "I could feel them – above me – as I slept in the earth. - Their heartbeats – their blood - coursing - through their veins." Excitement and power washed over him, these whole new sense budding to life, a connection he'd never felt before the universe itself seemed to be opening right before his eyes.
Darla smiled at him, remembering so long ago when she too rose from her grave, the rush it brings. "Yes."
"Was it a dream?" He asked, unsure if he'd wake on the bar room floor in or some woman's bed after a night of too much drink.
"A dream for you. Soon – their nightmare." She grinned, seeing the devastating potential already blazing in his dark soulless eyes.
Footsteps caught Liam's attention, the sound barely heard by a human was amplified to near deafening to his newly acquired senses. The cemetery groundskeeper Carrick O'Callaghan came up holding a lantern. "You there!" He shouts as warning, upon seeing the upturned grave he yells, "What have you done? - Grave robbers!"
Liam slowly walks towards him, the old man's hot blood beckoning him closer, he looks back at Darla for confirmation and she nods at him.
"You know what to do." She give him permission, watching him like a proud mother.
Liam turns back towards Carrick and morphs into vamp face, feeling the rush and call for blood screaming at him.
Carrick sees the horrible face and falters back, "Our Father, who art in heaven hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, give us this day our daily..." But the words do nothing to deter Liam, in seconds his fangs bury into his neck, greedily taking the life giving substance into himself.
After a moment Liam breaks off to look at Darla again, at her nod he then finishes draining the guy and drops him. He takes a couple deep unneeded breaths then turns back to Darla in human face.
"It all makes sense now, doesn't it?" She asks him, coming closer.
"Perfect sense." He agrees, loving the new strength and power he feels filling him head to toe.
"You can do anything, have anyone in the village. Who will it be?" She prods, eager to see what lies within his stilled heart.
"Any one?" He asked, thinking it over. At her nod he grins, an evil twinkle in his cold eyes, "I thought I'd take the village."
...
Angel felt bile rising in his throat, he knew what he'd see next. Without disappointment the world shifted again, it was a few weeks later, after he and Darla had terrorized the village, Liam was ready to finish the job. He went for his family.
William O'Connor was desperately nailing up his windows from the inside, terror washing over him in waves.
"You're no different from the rest of them, - are you, father?"
He spun at the sound of his dead son's voice, retreating back as he spoke
"Cowering in their houses – boarding up the windows – smearing that foul herb in the doorways. You'd think something evil – and vile – and monstrous - had taken to terrorizing this village –and everyone in it."
"Be gone, unclean thing! A demon can not enter a home where it's not welcome. He must be invited!" He warned, seeing not his son but the demon that killed him.
"That's true. - But I was invited." Liam grinned back, looking behind him in the doorway, the body of his beloved Kathy slumped against the wall, her dark eyes forever blank.
"Och!" William cried, feeling the love he'd never felt for his child in life overwhelming him in her death.
"She thought I returned to her – an angel." Liam mocked, thinking the name suited him.
Rage washed over William, "Murderer!" He yelled, charging the body of his son with the hammer raised above his head.
Liam easily avoided the attack, pushing his father to the ground.
"Strange. - Somehow you seemed taller when I was alive." Liam spoke, feeling nothing but embarrassment that he'd ever let such a pathetic creature run his life. Wondering why he'd ever felt fear for such a small cowardly man lying before him now.
William flattened himself up against the wall, "Lord, bind this demon now." He cried desperately, fear washing over him.
Liam shook his head, voicing his opinions, "To think I ever let such a tiny, trembling thing make me feel the way you did."
His father crosses himself, "I pray ye, give me your protection, Father."
Liam stalked forwards, his anger coming to fruit, the years this man belittled him, beat him, crushed him under his rules and will. "You told me I wasn't a man. You told me I was nothing. – and I believed you. You said I'd never amount to anything. Well, you were wrong."
Liam's vamp face appeared, his father's eyes widened in horror.
"You see, father? - I have made something out of myself after all."
Liam grabs the man that held such sway over him for so long, pressed a hand over his father's face and bites down hard, draining the old bastard for every last drop.
...
"This contest is ended, is it?" Darla asks, walking into his home, free to do so now there was no one left alive within.
Liam was sitting in his father's chair, his feet up on the table playing with his father's pipe. His family lying dead around him.
"Now I've won." He smirked, feeling like a hunter after taking out a large buck.
"You're sure?" Darla asked, glancing down at the mess.
He puts his feet down and picks up a mug of ale, "Of course. I proved who had the power here."
"You think?" She countered.
"What?" He asked, looking over his trophy's.
She shook her head, "You're victory over him took but moments."
He looks over at the body of his father and gets up, "Yes?"
She sighed, thinking how innocent youth can be, "But his defeat of you will last life times."
"What are you talking about? He can't defeat me now." Liam snapped looking at the dead man.
"Nor can he ever approve of you – in this world or any other. - What we once were informs all that we have become. The same love will infect our hearts – even if they no longer beat. Simple death won't change that." She informed her new companion.
He glanced at their bodies again then looked to his lover, "Love? - Is this the work of love?" He scoffed, seeing nothing but death around him.
Darla stepped closer and smiled up at him: "Darling boy. - So young. Still so very young."
...
The scene shifted again and when Angel's eyes opened he was face to face with his own mirror.
"Hey, nice trip down memory lane, isn't it?" Angelus asked, his cold dark eyes filling with glee as the memories tickled his darkness.
"Hardly." Angel replied, "What is this? Where am I?" He demanded, confused and disorientated still.
"You tell me, it's your head idiot." The demon shot back.
Angel rolled his eyes, talking with his darker half made having a conversation with Spike seem pleasant. "We're not divided anymore, how are you here like this?"
The demon shrugged, "Again, your mind trip...I'm just along for the show."
Angel sighed and glanced around, seeing nothing but a white nothingness.
"Ack." He yelp as Angelus suddenly socked him, a feral gleam in his eyes. "Neat. I like it here." He grinned coldly, looking forward to kicking his souled ego's ass again.
"Stop that." Angel protested, dodging the next three blows.
"Aw, come on Soul Boy, stop being a wuss and fight me." The demon taunted, jabbing and sending a kick to his humanized self.
"No." Angel denied, refusing to go though that madness again. "Quit being a Jackass, we're together now. I won't fight you."
Angelus dropped his fists, "Well that's no fun." He frowned, "And kinda gay sounding."
Angel sent himself a withering glance, "Get over it."
Angelus shrugged, "So that's it? No epic fight? No good vs evil smack down?"
"Been there, done that, no need for a re-run." He looked over at himself and shook his head. "We don't need to fight, we're both me...us...you share my soul as much as I share your demon. We're the same person."
Angelus stuffed his hands in his pockets, brooding. "Spoil sport." He muttered.
In a flash he felt himself pulled whole again, his sides re-merging. "Oh, that's not a comfortable feeling." He shook his head to clear it.
"Neither is being killed by your own flesh and blood." A voice declared behind him.
Angel spun, once again face to face with his father.
"Father." He gasped, stepping back from the stern faced dead man.
"I see you've chosen the dark again Boy, accepted the demon back into your soul. Nothing has changed." He spat, disappointment blazing in his eyes.
Angel swallowed his fear and shock, anger riding to the forefront. "Yes, it has father. I regret what happened to you, to mother and Kathy...but I accept that it wasn't my fault. I had no choice, no soul, no free will. What I regret most is never confronting you while I was still a man." His anger faded a little, "Never…never asking for your forgiveness for being such a lousy son…" He trialed, knowing the man he had been was no one to brag about.
Angel looked away a moment, feelings he'd long since buried rising from the depth of his soul.
His father knew what words his son remembered, he voiced them. "You could never measure up to my expectations of you. You never did anything right in my eyes. I called you a disgrace, a disappointment, a lay-about, a scoundrel, told you that you weren't a man, that I was ashamed of you and you'd never amount to anything. And all that was when you were still alive." William accused.
"And you're here to tell me you were wrong, that I was none of those things?" Angel snapped angrily. He knew it was true, but a part of him wanted to hear his father say it wasn't.
"No Liam, I'm not. Because you were all of them. You were just too ignorant to see it."
Angel shook his head, "Perhaps I was, but I was only able to be the man you molded me into. I never understood you, I thought if I did everything you asked, I could buy your approval, your love. But that's not something you can buy. You were always so concerned about sins and corruption, so I became the poster boy for them all. You thought I was this awful creature, and so I became one, you made me a vampire before I even died." He forced out.
"I know." William O'Connor agreed looking shamed, his eyes cast down in disgrace, his son's words striking true. "Trust me my son, of all my regrets in life, you were the biggest. I know I was a disappointing father to you, that I took my pain and aggression from losing your brother out on you. He died a hero, saving you...and I condemned you for it.
My death, your mother's...Kathy's...they were my fault, not yours. If I'd been a father to you instead of a general...you'd never have been in that alley..."
That struck Angel as unusual. His father had never admitted guilt, not once in his life. "So is that what this is about? To have me beg for your forgiveness, absolve my crimes and find peace in myself?"
"No." William answered. "It is for me to ask your forgiveness."
If Angel thought he was shocked a moment ago, he was floored now. "What?"
"I've watched your life boy. I've seen everything you've done in the past 254 years. Much of it I turned from in the beginning, seeing what I'd prodded my son into becoming. Other times I'd wept for you, for the broken soul you carried. The life you'd led would crush many a men, but not you. You rose from the wreckage and stood tall. I've watched you become a champion, fight for this world, sacrifice for it.
You were a disgrace, a disappointment, a lay-about, and a scoundrel in the past...but you're nothing like that man now."
Angel was speechless.
"Your death broke a part of me, the hard shell I'd worn for so long. It wasn't until then I'd realized how badly I'd treated you, how I drove you to self destruction.
I realized how much I'd lost.
I was too much a coward to tell you then, but I can say it now. I see a man I'm proud to call my son.
You're a better man than I was...a far better father. I know you have no reason to forgive me...that my praise is much too little and far too late...but I do love you my boy, I always have and always will."
Angel refused to cry, but the temptation was strong.
Here stood the man he'd murdered in a power-play for his approval, forever trapped by his foolish youthful rage into never receiving it.
Now here it was, handed to him, practically gift wrapped. "Why now?" He asked voice carefully guarded.
The older man smiled slightly, "You've not been home to tell." He told him bluntly.
Angel nodded slowly, a part of him wanting to smash his fist into his old man's face for the way he'd been treated as a child. The other part wanted to drop and bawl like a child at his feet.
Instead he walked a few steps forwards, his champion heart unable to deny his father the forgiveness he'd asked for. If he could forgive Faith for trying to kill him he could forgive his father...it hurt...but he would bare the pain.
"You wanted what every man wants; to see your children succeed in life. You're methods were deplorable, but I know you only wanted what was best for your family. I don't approve of your actions, but...I forgive you Father."
The old brown eyes overflowed with tears, "Thank you." He cried and hugged his startled son. 'Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou..." He sobbed into his boy's shirt.
Despite the whirl of emotions, Angel wrapped his arms around his father's lithe frame, once again shocked as to how small he'd really been. His own tears stinging un-shed in his eyes.
A light filled the space, the white nothingness replaced with a warm glow. Angel looked up and gasped as he saw his mother and sister standing together, smiles on their beautiful faces. Behind his mother, a young boy about 9 appeared, his older brother William Jr that died when Liam was 7.
William slowly moved from his son's embrace and looked to the three souls behind him. "My God." He whispered, seeing his long lost family.
"Come Will." His wife beckoned, "Come home to us."
His father turned to look wide eyed at his living son. "I...I'd never thought..."
Angel suddenly realized his father hadn't gone to Heaven with his mother and sister, but had spent 250 years in Purgatory, suffering in the guilt he'd felt over his treatment of his surviving son.
Tears finally flowed down the living vampire's cheeks, knowing his forgiveness was what finally allowed his father entry to Heaven.
"Go, be with them." Angel urged to the stunned man beside him.
His dark eyes watched as his father slowly moved towards them, like a man walking to an oasis in the dessert…afraid it'd vanish in a mirage if he got too close.
They didn't. The three brightly glowing beings wrapped their arms around William Sr, the older man beginning to glow with them.
Angel smiled at the scene, a feeling of peace washing over him. The anger his demon always felt birthed from his father's disapproval was suddenly pacified.
The rage gone forever.
All four looked towards him, silently asking him to join them in eternal bliss.
Tempting as it was, Angel shook his head. "I have a family of my own that needs me, a world to protect…I can't, not for a long time anyways." He declared.
They nodded, smiling together.
Bridgette O'Connor waved her hand at her son, thanking him for sending his father home to her.
Kathy kissed her hand and sent it to her brother, as he'd taught her to do when she was little. He grinned and caught it, pressing it to his heart.
His older brother just smiled at him, innocence surrounding the youth.
The glow from them suddenly brightened and Angel had to shield his eyes. When he looked back after a moment, they were gone.
He smiled, the heaviness he'd carried in his heart for centuries finally lifted.
He looked around at the vast nothingness. 'Ok, now how do I get back?' He thought worriedly.
Somewhere, he thought he heard Buffy's voice calling to him. He looked around confused.
Shutting his eyes he focus on her voice, and followed it home.
...
"Angel!" Buffy called again, getting extremely worried as his heartbeat slowed.
She'd been horrified when she realized his soul and demon had vanished from his body, now with nothing within, his body was dying.
"Angel please." She begged, holding him tight, "Come back to me."
"Always." He breathed in, his essence slipping back into he vessel that was his body.
Buffy gasped when he spoke and then practically jumped on him as she felt him return to her.
His eyes opened and he smiled at her."I missed you too." He grinned, wrapping his arms around her.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she kissed him, her heart pounding in her chest.
"You left me!" She accused after a moment, sitting up to let him breathe.
"I'm here now. And I'll be staying for a long time." He assured, pulling her back down against him.
"Where did you go?" She asked in a small voice.
A small smile ran across his lips, "I saw my family."
That clarified what the ghost of Kathy had said. "You talked to your dad?" Buffy asked, interested in what happened during his out-of-body experience.
He nodded, "I did." He answered.
She looked into his eyes then, and saw the weight he'd been carrying was gone now. A light she'd never seen before glowed in him, a light revealed by centuries of darkness being cleared away.
The demon was still inside, but the guilt and remorse, the anger and rage, all of it was gone. He'd always have the memories of what he'd been, of what he'd done with and without a soul. But there was something else in those deep bottomless eyes...forgiveness.
In forgiving his father, he himself had earned forgiveness.
He'd saved the man that condemned him, and saved himself.
Redemption achieved.
He couldn't help it, he saw her watching him with those big beautiful hazel-green eyes and his lips zeroed in on hers. He was feeling more alive right now than he'd felt even before he was turned. All he could think about in this moment was how much brighter the world felt...and how much he loved his woman laying in his arms.
...
Buffy was lying spread out over her husband, his coat wrapped over her bare form. "We just made love on your grave" She bluntly muttered, looking at the stone standing accusingly in front of her.
He smirked and shrugged beneath her, "So? It's not like I'm in it." he countered, nuzzling against her neck. "Besides, it's mine...if I want to love my wife here who's to tell me not to?"
"Seems a little morbid to me." She shifted off him and sat up, clutching his coat to herself for modestly from the glaring graves.
"Says the woman who'd sneak into the cemetery at night just to smooch her boyfriend." Angel reminded her of the countless hours they'd spent necking in Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries over the years.
"They weren't your grave." she bounced back, feeling uneasy.
He rose too, body following hers. Unphased he leaned his back against his grave marker as he would the headboard of their bed and pulled her against him, his finger sweeping an unruly blond hair behind her ear. "I'm not dead Buffy, I'm here with you. Thoroughly enjoying being alive and spending much desired quality time with my extremely beautiful wife." He finished by kissing her forehead.
She rolled her eyes at him, snuggling against his shoulder. "You're still horny, aren't you?" She mocked his charms. Even though they succeeded in reeling her back in.
"Don't you know it." he grinned, kissing her neck again, paying special attention to the mark that drove her nuts.
She giggled and kissed back, unease about being over his burial plot magically forgotten.
...
Before anything got too steamy, Buffy's phone began to ring in her pants pocket. 'Always when we're busy.' She thought dejected again.
Angel reached a long arm over and pulled her discarded pants closer so she could pry the screaming phone from her pocket without leaving his embrace.
"Hello?" She asked, hiding a giggle as he teased her in a very inappropriate manner.
"Um, hey Buffy! It's Willow...as I'm sure you know by my voice...so we were just wondering...um...when you were coming home?" The witch asked, two very unhappy children now knowing their mother was also gone wailing their sorrow from the other room.
"Why? Are the kids ok? Did something happen?" She rushed out, motherly instincts flaring.
Angel stopped his ministrations and listened, worry overpowering lust.
"No! No nothing is wrong...per say." The redhead replied.
"Then what?" Buffy asked, now hearing Katie and Liam crying in the background. "Are they ok?"
"Just missing their parents." Willow supplied.
"Oh...right. It must be well past morning there now. I should be getting back. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ditch you guys with babysitting duty for so long." Buffy admitted, realizing time got far, far away from her. She'd only planned to spend a few hours with Angel then head back before the kids got up...that hadn't quiet happened as planned.
"Well...if you guys are...um...busy..." Willow asked shyly.
Even thought Willow was hundreds of miles away, Buffy's cheeks tinted red. "Tell the kids mommy will be home very soon, Ok?"
Angel heard the conversation easily enough and began to untangle from her. As much as he wanted to be greedy with his wife, he knew their kids needed her too. There was plenty of time when he got back and the kids were asleep for him be be selfish with her.
After she hung up, they both dressed quickly.
"Is Willow teleporting you back now?" He asked, shrugging his coat back on, and silently loving the lingering scent of his wife all over it.
"I've got this little magical thingie." she replied, pulling out a small packet of herbs from her new coat. "I just say the words, burn the stinky powder and poof, back in Hellmouth county, U.S.A."
"That sounds...trustworthy." He commented a little worried for her. "Hey, were did you hide that?" he asked, not seeing it before when they were buying the new outfit.
She grinned, but didn't answer.
After a moment she sighed, "I should go now, the kids didn't sound happy." She felt guilty for leaving him here...alone...in the middle of no where.
He nodded and hugged her against him, "Go to them, they need their mother." He urged, letting her off the guilty train.
"They need their father too. Come home with me?" She asked, Willow having made the potion spell strong enough to transport him too.
He wanted to, but shook his head. "What about my luggage? Plus I'm legally in the country, if I just poof back home, it'll look funny if there is no record of me traveling back. I'm human now, mostly, I can't fly under the radar like I did when I was dead." He reasoned.
She nodded, accepting his argument but not liking it. "When will you be back?"
"My flight touches down in Cleveland on September 15, 2pm."
"Two whole days from now?" She pouted.
He grinned and kissed her cheek, "I'll be back before you know it. Just make sure you're at the airport when I land."
"Promise you'll be there in one piece." She demanded, still anxious about him flying. He might be able to survive a lot of things having a demon in him, but a plane crash wasn't one of them.
"Nothing could keep me away from you. Promise." he soother her fears, kissing her forehead again.
She went straight for his lips for her goodbye kiss, neither of them ever saying the words out loud.
"I'll see you soon." She ordered.
He grinned, "Dhá lá, a chuisle. Tá grá agam duit, chailleann tú cheana féin."
She laughed inside at his emotions taking over his language controls.
"English honey." She scolded playfully.
He laughed slightly, "Sorry. I said two days, my love. I love you, miss you already."
"Big softy." She teased. "I love you too."
He grinned, "Tell the kids I love them, give then a hundred kisses for me, Ok?"
"Only a hundred? You're slacking off." She quipped as a defense mechanism for her nervousness of using magic. She was good with the physical stuff; hitting, stabbing, slicing, dusting, chopping. Not so much with the magicks...or driving...
Before her nerve wore out, she pulled the lighter out to burn the powder for the spell to send her home.
She set it up on his headstone and said the words, then set the packet of herbs and sand alight.
In a flash Buffy vanished, Angel was felt staring at the crumbling remains of the spell packet.
He nodded and turned to go, a flash a green and white caught his eyes and he smirked as he picked up the item sitting by his grave.
Grasping his wife's 'forgotten' panties, he traveled back to the hotel with a spring in his step.
...
Buffy swept her crying children into her arms the second she materialized in her bedroom. Willow relieved she was back had quickly went downstairs so the mother could comfort her unhappy children.
...
The sky over Galway was bathed in darkness. That tended to happen as night fell and the sun sank down to sleep for the evening.
Angel breathed in deep, his lungs filling with the rich salt air surrounding the coastal city.
His home was different now, but in so many ways, exactly the same. Buildings stood in the same spot, only the names had changed. The streets were repaved but they were the same streets he'd walked down thousands of times in the past. The fields held new grass, but the soil was no different than the dirt that had caked his shoes as a youth.
Everything around him echoed the past.
It didn't bother him, in fact he enjoyed the feeling. It made him feel a little less old. Seeing how the face of the city could so easily hide the age it bore underneath the surface. Much like himself, he had so many years tallied against him, yet here he stood, looking like a man of 30 when he'd walked the earth for over 300 years. Most didn't count his stay in Acathla's hell dimension, but he did. He'd felt time flowing though him, known decades passed him by as he suffered unknown torment.
Shaking the memories away, he continued walking down the vacant street.
He could feel eyes watching him from the closed windows overlooking the mostly empty streets. Generations of being prayed upon by Mal and his vampire gang had left most citizens afraid to leave their homes at night.
Angel and Buffy took care of that problem.
Over the last hour he'd gone out and vanquished any remaining demons in his old home town. For the first time since 1753, there was nothing lurking in the darkness...except him that was.
He wasn't sure where he was going until his booted feet stopped at the entrance of the alley he'd died in.
Nothing was different about it, it hadn't changed one bit in the many years since his body was discovered cold and stiff within its brick walls.
He turned quickly and walked away, unwilling to ever set foot down that cursed street again.
Hours perhaps passed as he wandered aimlessly around the sleeping town, drinking in his old stomping grounds. He passed by streams he'd played with William Jr in, later bringing Kathy to teach her how to swim. He grinned as he passed the homes of old friends, remembering the joys of his boyhood while his brother still lived and as a young man when he was hiding from his father's wrath.
His journey ended as he stood outside the cemetery, not the one he'd been buried in. The church had denied his body being placed within the family plot, his 'crimes' against their religion barring him from being laid to rest in a plot of dignity.
He'd never seen his parents grave before, Darla had whisked him away from Galway before their bodies had even been found.
His dark eyes scanned the darker graves with ease even in the low moonlight. This cemetery was still maintained as a historical site, the stones and grounds well kept.
"This area is off limits to the public at night." A heavily Irish accented voice called in English from behind him.
A little startled, Angel turned, seeing an ancient priest walking from the parish located in the outskirts of the graveyard. The old man looked as if he'd been here when the church first opened it's doors in 1532.
"It can be dangerous outside at night, I suggest you go back to your hotel and return in the morning." The priest warned, eying Angel nervously. For a holy man, he'd seen more than his fare share of the unholy lurking in the shadows. The beings he'd often met at night, if not foolish tourists, were not usually human.
"My apologies Father, I hadn't meant to trespass." Angel spoke in old Gaelic, reaching a hand out to shake with the priest. "Angel Summers" He offered his name.
The white haired man watched him carefully, holding his cross in his outstretched hand so the holy object would touch Angel's skin and reveal if he were a demon in disguise. "Father Nevan Molony" The aged man replied.
Angel's amused eyebrow rose, knowing the man's name roughly translated to Saint servant of St. John, the old man shrugged, "The priesthood is in my blood, and now I can claim I've met an angel."
Angel simply gave the hand a few simple pumps and released it. "That's a fine cross, may I." He asked, recognizing the design.
Seeing the dark man lingering in the shadows was human and not some foolish tourist, the priest offered apologies and handed Angel his cross.
"It's old, early 1700s." Angel examined the golden cross, remembering one like it stood at the alter when he was a boy.
"You know your antiquities." The old man grinned. "Circa 1724, was part of the alter until it was replace in 1801. Comes in handy at night." He replied in Gaelic.
Angel nodded, "I bet it does." He agreed, letting the priest know he was aware of the things that go bump in the night.
"What is your business here then Mr. Summers, the cemetery is unwelcoming at night." The old man asked, curiosity peaked.
"Just looking for a plot, old roots." He answered.
"What be their name?"
"O'Connor." Angel provided.
The old man shook his head, "You must be mistaken, that line ended in the 1750's. There are no decedents."
"Still, could you show me where to find them? I'll only be but a moment, honest." Angel asked with his most charming smile.
Father Molony's dark grey eyes studied Angel's deep brown for a moment, seeing an ageless wisdom far older that his 97 years reflecting back. He nodded, "Very well, you'll be their first visitor."
A few minutes later Angel stood alone at the O'Connor plot. The large stone marker held the name of four people. Age had not been kind to the engraving. A stunningly carved cross adorned the monument, worn dull from acid rain. Despite the passage of time, the artists eyes in him could see every detail the design once held, the image burning into his memory.
"It impossible, but you know them don't you?" Father Molony asked as he came to stand by Angel.
Slowly angel nodded, "Yes. They're my family."
"O'Connor...the records show they had a son named Liam. Rumors say the boy was a curse, died badly, rose a demon and plagued this town ever since."
Angel remained silent.
"Angel...Angelus then." The priest asked.
"Yes." Angel didn't deny, silently impressed with the priest's knowledge of such things. "I sired the demon who terrorized this town, he used my name while I paved a path of death outside this island." After a moment he continued, "He's gone now, all of them. The town is safe, the curse ended."
Despite hearing what he'd just heard, the old man didn't try to run. "You're no longer a demon?" He asked, curious how someone could be cured of the curse of vampirism, if the Lord had intervened.
"I still carry it within me, but now it's used for good. I use my darkness to fight the darkness."
"And how does such a thing happen?" The priest pressed.
Angel grinned slightly, seeing the old man was looking for a sign of God, to know his life's devotion to the church wasn't wasted.
"My soul was restored to me." He answered, leaving out a lot but figuring it was enough to validate the old man's life work.
Father Molony smiled at that. "A miracle then." He offered.
Angel nodded, a smile on his lips. "Yes it was."
...
An hour later Angel's feet stopped him at a small shop in the northern most part of town. Smelling the air he knew the creature he'd come to find was still residing within. He hadn't been here since losing a bet in 1753, only a day after he'd murdered his family.
He'd been young and cocky, the proof forever carried on his back in the shape of a gryphon.
At the time, he was still soaring high on family blood running though his cold veins. He'd wanted to immortalize his victory as a tattoo. His sister calling him an angel was still buzzing in his head and he'd wanted to have a pair of broken wings tattoo onto his back, representing a fallen angel.
He'd gotten mouthy with the tattoo artist, a demon who's name he hadn't bothered to learn. The demon had handed him a glass of strong brew, his own creation, and bet him he couldn't drink more than three glasses without passing out.
Liam had been no stranger to drink in life, but after he'd been turned, ale would flow through him like water. "You're got yerself a bet." The newly made demon had agreed, taking the first of the three shots eagerly.
Hours later, he'd awoken to a sore right shoulder blade. Without being able to see his reflection in a mirror, it had taken time to learn what had been etched into his flesh. When Darla had described the image, he'd raged at the offense at not having the broken angel wings he asked for, but a symbol from a religious book forever marking his skin.
The image represented the duality of nature and ironically the wealth of the sun, it was inspired from the Book of Kells, which he was well familiar with from his time in the church as an alter boy. The winged figure represented the Evangelists. The Gryphon specifically a symbol for Saint Mark.
He'd gone back to kill the demon, but found he'd skipped town.
Over time his anger had faded and he'd accepted the tattoo; out of sight, out of mind. He'd adopted the new name Angelus that was represented with the letter A in the Gryphon's claws.
Now he found himself reentering the shop, still looking very much like it did 250 years ago.
"Have you come back to kill me after all this time vampire?" The cold voice of the demon he'd angered spoke from the back room. "Or perhaps you're here to pay for the tattoo?"
Angel smirked at that, he'd forgotten he'd stiffed the guy on payment. "Neither." The living vampire replied as the scaled demon appeared from behind a curtain, "But I'd be willing to offer payment and an apology if you'd be willing to put this on my other shoulder." Angel placed a piece of paper on the table showing in vivid detail what he wanted.
The demon's red eyes scanned the image like a computer scanner, instantly memorizing every detail. Those crimson eyes then lifted to meet Angel's, "Do you fancy you're self a masochist now vampire?"
Angel shook his head, "Just a man looking for a tattoo."
The demon breathed in deeply, smelling the humanity mixed with the stench of a vampire rolling off the dark haired man. Eying him closely he could even see the soul within. "Indeed you are."
"Angel Summers" He extended his hand to the green demon, "I don't think I've had the pleasure."
Slowly the demon accepted the offered hand, "You could not pronounce my name in any earth tongue, but many call me Art."
"Glad to finally meet you Art." Angel grinned, "So what do you say, we have a deal?"
Seeing the living man was nothing like the rude, ungrateful demon of the past, Art nodded his head. "I believe we do, Angel."
...
Two days later Buffy stood impatiently at the gate the digital screen had indicated Angel's plane would arrive at. Liam was fussing in her arms as Katie shifted around restlessly at her side. "Mommy, where's Daddy? You said Daddy was coming home. I don't see Daddy..." she pouted, having inherited her mother's lack of patients.
"Soon honey, see the plane landing, that's him." She pointed to the small dot appearing in the sky and slowly growing into a aircraft as it closed in on the ground.
It seemed to take forever for the plane to taxi to the terminal and the gangplank be attached to unload the passengers.
Buffy was just finishing cleaning up the juice box Liam had spilled when passengers begin filtering out.
"Ok Katie, keep an eye...Katie?" Buffy looked around and felt a wall of fear crush over her as she realized her daughter was gone. "Katie!" she called louder, looking around frantically as the tired passengers filtered passed her.
She turned panicked eyes towards the unloading dock again and sighed in relief when Angel appeared carrying his bag in one hand and their daughter in the other.
She rushed over to them, hugging them both, Liam happily squished in the middle.
"Oh my God, don't ever disappear like that again!" She scolded her daughter for scaring her near to death. She had snuck away and ran down the walkway into the plane to find her daddy.
After the initial shock was gone, she quickly hugged her husband, "You either, you're also not allowed to wander off again." She ordered kissing him.
"Done." He agreed, having had his fill of being away from them to last a lifetime.
He took his kids in his arms as Buffy took his bag, the reunited family heading together to get his suitcase from baggage claim.
"Ok, I've seen that suitcase 3 times already...what did they do with yours?" Buffy paced.
Angel just chuckled and dropped a kiss on her head, he would have wrapped his arms around her but the kids refused to be put down. Truth be told, short of cutting off his arms he wasn't letting them go. "I sat at the window, I watched them load it. Be patient a chuisle."
"What does that mean? She asked, not remembering.
"Literal translation, my pulse." He replied. "But it can also mean my love."
She grinned and leaned against him, "I like it."
...
A short time later they were heading to the parking garage, he with their kids and her with his bags.
When they reached the SUV she eagerly handed him the keys and took Katie to strap her in the car seat while he buckled Liam in.
She happily jumped into the passenger seat as he tossed his bags into the trunk.
"Really glad you don't have to drive anymore huh?" He grinned, climbing in and getting stuck since the seat was pulled all the way forward for Buffy to reach the peddles. "Ack...ow...gees Buffy, what are you a hobbit?"
She just stuck her tongue out at him as he adjusted the seat and mirrors.
He just laughed and headed home, glad to be back.
...
The next morning.
Buffy woke when the morning light streamed in from the partly open window curtain and left a trail of warmth along her arm.
Opening her eyes she glanced down at her husband sleeping atop her lithe form, his head resting between her natural pillows sent a rush of excitement through her bones.
She'd sorely missed waking up with him against her.
A smile slid across her lips as she ran her right fingers through his messy sex-tussled hair and caressed down his nape.
Her digits wandered lower, running along the tattoo on his left shoulder blade then partly down his spine, to turn back up and run over his right side with her left hand. As she fingered the familiar gryphon tattoo an alert popped into her head. 'Angel's tattoo is on his right shoulder...so what was that on his left?'
Caressing suddenly on hold, she turned her attention back to his left shoulder and glanced down at the unfamiliar design.
'A cross?' She wondered, looking at the upside image from her perspective.
Slipping out from under him, and getting an unconscious groan of displeasure from him in the process, she straddled his hips to get a better right sided view of the image.
It was a very elaborate design of an Irish cross, Celtic knots woven within the interior. A Claddagh circled the 'arms' of the cross, the hands holding a small crowned heart, her name written in fancy script within.
A tear welled up in her eyes as her fingers caressed over her name.
"Wondered when you were going to notice that." Angel mumbled sleepily from beneath her.
"You didn't have this two days ago." She reasoned, mentally collaborating with her memories for validation of the statement.
"The night you left...paid an 'old friend' a visit." He answered her unasked question.
"It's beautiful...where did you get this picture?" She asked, looking at all the details.
"I drew it...it's what the marker on my parents grave used to look like, before time dulled the details. I added the Claddagh...well I'm sure you can figure out why."
She leaned down and placed a light kiss over the heart with her name, "I think I have a pretty good idea." she purred.
He groaned in contentment as she ran her hands over his shoulders, her eyes comparing the twin tattoos on his back.
"It's amazing, they both have the same attention to details, the same color and style..."
"Should, same guy did them both." He offered.
"Really" she asked, "Obviously not human than." She added a second later.
He chuckled a little, "No, no he isn't. To be honest...not sure what he is."
"So you let him permanently ink your body?"
"He owed me a tattoo."
"For what?"
He rolled over and pulled her down. "Old history, nothing worth dredging from the river bed." He dismissed, deciding to sample the bare flesh that sat so teasing close to his lips.
She giggled as his slight beard tickled her neck, he needed a shave. She told him so.
"Later." He mumbled, exploring down her body with well placed kisses.
She rolled beneath him and surrendered to those lips.
...
End, for now.