By Mel (email me at cosmic_quest@yahoo.com)
Chapter Three
If Giles didn't know it wasn't possible for a vampire to have heart failure, he would have assumed Angel was having an out-and-out heart attack right before his very eyes. As it was, Giles knew that Angel's paler-than-normal pallor, wide eyes and the fact his jaw was practically scrapping the floor just meant the vampire was in a state of shock.
And who could blame him? It was not every day that a two century old, immortal, apparently infertile bloodsucker discovered they were a father to a fifteen-year-old boy, and Brendan certainly hadn't made things easy.
It wasn't just the admission that no doubt shocked Angel, it was the sarcastic way in which Brendan spat out the word 'Daddy'; never before had the word sounded so...vile. Not that it surprise Giles for he had known Brendan Chase since the boy was born and he also knew the youngster carried within him a rage as dark as the darkest night.
It just brought home the reminder that while Brendan was every bit his mother's son when it came to his physical appearance, there was no denying that Angel was the boy's father. Not only did Brendan inherit his father's tendency to brood but where Angel was, Angelus hid below the surface. Brendan just conducted himself with a greater self-restraint than Angelus ever could.
Yet it wasn't always like this for Brendan...No, Giles could still remember with a striking poignant clarity the sweet and tender little boy of long ago who was devoted to his mother and idolized his godfather Wesley and his Uncle Charles. But where a young boy could light up the room with a smile, a teenager struck out against his injustices.
"I...I can't be...I can't even have children or...or even have..."
Under any other circumstances, it would have been amusing witnessing the cool and collected Angel stuttering like a nervous schoolboy so reminiscent of a younger, less confident Xander Harris.
"I wish I could say it was good to see you again, Angel, but I was never one for blatant lying."
Angel fixed Giles with a firm glare. "It's not true; I can't be that boy's father." But even as he spoke, the Watcher could hear the uncertainty.
"Yes," countered Giles, "yes, it is true. Brendan Francis Chase is the only child of Cordelia Chase and Angel the Souled Vampire. I'm not certain about the specifics but I believe he was conceived not long after your soul was anchored...Only you're not Angel, are you? At least, not 'our' Angel."
Angel jerked up. "How did you know?"
Giles smiled grimly. "Because the Angel I know died three years ago." The statement certainly achieved Angel's full attention. "So, that begs the question, where did you come from?"
"This might sound crazy."
"This is the Hellmouth; I've found that crazy is the name of the game."
"I don't remember those children," Angel said, hesitantly, "I don't remember bringing the girl to Buffy and I sure as hell don't remember fathering a child. I think this is my future, Giles, and," he took an unnecessary breath, "I think I've travelled forward sixteen years into my future."
Resisting the urge to laugh out loud at the insane possibility, Giles forced himself to remember that one thing he had learned from both his Watcher training and his life on the Hellmouth was anything was possible. Even a time-travelling vampire. And he had no doubt at all that the man sitting before him was Angel. His reaction to Brendan was too emotional for it to be anyone else.
So, instead of disclaiming Angel's statement, he asked, "How?"
"Darla maybe, I was fighting her and Dru when this- whatever *this* is- all happened."
"Darla?"
"I take you know she's back."
"*Was* back, she was Brendan's first conquest at the tender age of twelve."
"A twelve-year-old human boy staked Darla?!"
"Yes, well, your son has Cordelia's temper and stubbornness coupled your vampiric strength and a pinch of Angelus' vindictiveness. Not a very good combination."
Giles could still remember the ruckus it caused when he and Buffy found out Brendan and Ashleigh, aged twelve and thirteen respectively, had buggered off by themselves in search of Darla. Brendan was never known for his sense of self-preservation and Ashleigh's Slayer strength was still so new to her then. It still amazed him to this day how the pair managed to take out one of the Scourge of Europe. Perhaps, Darla underestimated the rage of a son.
"What did Cordelia do when she found out?" Angel asked. "I'll bet she wasn't too pleased at finding out her son had been anywhere near Darla."
A wave of sadness swept over Giles. "Cordelia doesn't know, she never will."
"They blackmailed you to keep it quiet," Angel said, smiling faintly. "That's the sort of thing Cordy would do so I guess the boy is very much like her."
*
"No...Angel, Cordelia doesn't know because she died nine years ago. Wesley and the young man, Charles Gunn, also lost their lives with her."
It was ironic, really. Ashleigh Summers, the Chosen One whose biological parents she never knew and her adoptive parents certainly not conventional by any means, was a well adjusted teenager and who experienced the easiest transition to uptake her Slayer duties than had ever been recorded.
Then there was Brendan, a boy who despite also not having the most average of parents, had the chance to lead a normal life. That's not to say he didn't have a part in the prophecy, he was after all born with the mark of the Powers That Be and certain gifts a legacy of his parentage, but his early years were a world away from the turmoil of the Hellmouth. And maybe had Cordelia lived, had Angel been a father to his son, things might have been different to the teenager now so hell-bent on vengeance.
*****************************
Angel felt himself collapse into the coach, shaking his head in denial. This was too much for even him. To find out in the space of an hour that not only was he somehow sixteen years into the future and Cordelia had a son but he was the boy's father and now his friends...his true family were dead, had died nine years ago. Gone without knowing the depths of his devotion and love for each of them.
It couldn't be true. Cordelia was barely a child herself, and her boundless energy and spirits as immortal as he was.
Only she wasn't a child any longer; twenty-seven years old at the time of her death and though young for a human, she no longer was the girl he knew. She had grown up without him and moved on, taking their son with her. Brendan Francis Chase; a fifteen-year-old boy who was half his. His middle name 'Francis' had to be Cordelia's way of paying some homage to Doyle and it saddened Angel that his son was more a part Doyle than him.
Yet one thing Angel could not do was deny his part in the boy's parentage. While he had always thought it impossible for a vampire to have produce children, demonology was hardly a conventional science. And then there was his relationship with Cordelia in the months before he fired her and the others. They had become so close, very close, and who knew what would happen as a result of his soul being anchored?
However, whatever *did* happen still resulted in history repeating itself. Given Brendan's hostility and the way Giles seemed to behave like he was an absent father, Angel must have left Cordelia and the others again.
Another act of sheer stupidity.
Much like many humans, it was also every vampire's driven objective to procreate; that was why they sired others. Being ensouled only enhanced Angel's need for family. He had a family in Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn, and apparently he also managed to father a child naturally...and he had wasted everything. His friends were dead and his virtually orphaned son loathed him.
"How did they...?" Angel trailed off, unable to complete his question.
Giles understood, pity running deep in the Watcher's eyes. "Perhaps I should start from the beginning."
"That would be good," Angel said thickly.
Moving forward, hesitating only briefly, Giles untied Angel's hands then went to a nearby cupboard where he retrieved a thick photo album. Sitting beside the vampire, he opened the first page which depicted a toddler Brendan seated happily between a smiling Cordelia and Wesley. To an outsider, a person could easily think it a portrait of a young mother and father with their child.
Only Cordelia was *his* as simply as Brendan was *his*.
"They look so happy." Angel smoothed a hand over the picture, lingering over Cordelia's face.
"Yes, yes, they were. Wesley and their other friend, Gunn, played a large role in Brendan's early years. Wesley was the godfather, and he and Brendan were very close." It was clear that he meant Wesley was a surrogate father to Angel's son only Giles was too polite to say speak this out loud. "It wasn't easy for Cordelia to have a child like Brendan. He had a vampire's strength almost from birth and has always been able to sense demonic entities around him. Plus, from her role as Seer, he has inherited a psychic link to the Powers That Be and had some psi abilities. Not an easy child to raise for any parent let alone a twenty-two-year-old girl."
"She did well with him though. Brendan seems like a great kid other than the fact he loathes me."
"Brendan is a boy with much anger. Although Cordelia tried to keep her own opinion of you away from her son, he's always been very perceptive from a young age."
"And what was Cordelia's opinion of me? She must have hated me; I left her and if that wasn't enough, I placed the added burden of pregnancy on her."
"If you think that then you really didn't know Cordelia as well as you thought you did," Giles responded, his tone gentle. "Yes, she was angry but she always loved you, and Brendan was never a burden. Not only was he her child but I think a small part of the reason she so doted on him was that he was a part of you."
Though he was grateful to hear that from Giles of all people, to carry
the knowledge that Cordelia once loved him was heart wrenching. It was too
late to act upon those emotions now- nine years too late. She was gone now,
and he was left to deal the repercussions of her legacy. More than anything,
Angel found himself wishing he could take back the last sixteen years. To
be able to return home, beg Cordelia and Wesley to allow him back into their
lives and wipe out this whole bleak mess.
To re-write this hellish excuse for a future so that his family could
live.
"What happened?" Angel asked painfully. "I need to know, Giles. I must
have had my soul anchored in order to have a child. What happened after the
whole Darla situation?"
"Which do you want to know about- the first or the second 'situation'?"
At Angel's blank expression, the Watcher elaborated. "After spending a number
of weeks away pursuing your own agenda in regards to Darla, you did return
to Cordelia after leaving the first time. I'm not sure about the exact details-
Cordelia and the others always maintained an inner circle in many instances-
but you did spend five happy months together where I assume you and Cordelia
become closer." Giles watched him speculatively. "I see you're not surprised
by this."
Angel thought for a moment of denying it, he was always aware of Giles's
disapproval when it came to the vampire meddling in the Scoobies' lives and
the Watcher did consider Cordelia one of 'his' children regardless of her
location. Nevertheless, it didn't matter anymore; the Scooby Gang weren't
children now and Cordelia was long dead.
"No," Angel admitted, "all that surprised me is that I had the courage
to act upon my feelings and that I was stupid enough to destroy whatever
we had."
The Watcher gazed at the vampire with a look akin to pity before continuing
with the story of how Angel came to ruin the very family he had yearned for
all his existence. "Apparently, things began to change after the Powers rewarded
you with your soul when you prevented some very destructive events from occurring.
Darla returned to LA seeking redemption."
Darla again. Why did she have to come back? Why couldn't she just die?
Angel only had to think of his sire and he was cursing her very existence.
She was the bane of his unlife and had he not learned that Brendan had already
staked her, he would have hunted her down himself that very minute.
"Of course, after seeing the progress Spike had made-"
"Spike?" Angel repeated, perplexed. What did his obstinate grandchilde
have to do with this?
"You didn't know." It wasn't a question; the tone in Giles's voice instantly
putting Angel on edge. "I thought one of the children would have mentioned
it. Spike and Buffy have been together for about sixteen years now, he is
in many ways Ashleigh's father."
Angel felt his eyes on the brink of popping out. "Spike and Buffy? Spike
and Buffy?! Last time I checked they hated each other."
"I'll admit I was stunned at the time, but he's changed. He's a good father
and husband, I know he would die to protect Buffy, Dawn and Ashleigh. Besides,
last time you checked, you were still a eunuch."
"Touché," the vampire conceded, adding with an insulted moan, "and
I was never a eunuch."
Once upon a time, he would have been brimming over with a seething rage
that she could have chosen Spike of all people over him but things had changed...Just
as Buffy's heart now belonged to Spike, his belonged to another girl whose
love and faith in him was something that he was responsible for destroying
himself.
Besides, Angel was happy that Buffy had found happiness, and he knew
that Spike would always look after her. His grandchilde was many things but
his unparalleled passion to love and protect his own always made Angel wonder
if the younger vampire really was the 'Big Bad' he portrayed himself to be.
Ignoring his last comment, Giles turned the page to a photograph of the
AI office with Cordelia and Wesley leaning in front of a desk and Gunn juggling
a laughing Brendan, aged around five, standing by the amused couple.
"As I was saying, Darla came for aid in seeking her own redemption and
you decided to help, despite objections. Of course, it was all a charade
and when Darla fed off two young families under your protection, you left
LA to hunt her down unaware Cordelia was pregnant with your child. You did
find out about the boy when Brendan was a few months old but you did right
to keep away when Cordelia threatened to stake you if you ever contacted
her or your son again."
Angel had no words to describe his own sheer dim-witted behaviour. To
have left Cordelia once was bad enough, but for him to do so again...well,
it was little wonder why Cordelia kept his son from him. She should have
staked him then and there.
"Then some years later, when Brendan was not even seven years old, the
Angel Investigations team- without the Angel- become embroiled in a involving
a particularly vicious group of vampires."
Giles's eyes darkened as he reminisced. Angel braced himself for what
was coming next, he knew the result of the story but not the means.
"The night they attacked, Cordelia and the others stood no chance, they
were prepared but there were simply too many vampires. I think Gunn and many
of his young gang were the first to fall. Cordelia and Wesley sent Brendan
through the sewers to safety..." The Watcher, who in his time had seen many
deaths and in fact had a hand in ending a number of lives, seemed to have
trouble composing himself. "...We arrived in the early hours of the morning
after receiving a call from one hysterical little boy. There was barely enough
of Wesley to bury. Cordelia hung on for two days but her injuries were just
too severe. We laid them to rest together in LA-
their city."
For the first time in his existence, Angel was rendered speechless. He
knew that Cordelia was dead, Brendan was so frank in informing him of her
death and proclaiming Angel's guilt but still to actually have it verified
by a man he knew was not only disconcerting but wrenching.
It was sickening to hear of how the women he loved and his best friends
had been stuck down so brutally, so senselessly. Cordelia was too innocent
to have died in such a manner, more than anything she deserved the chance
watch her son grow up, see her grandchildren. What was the hardest for Angel
to face was the simple fact was that their slaughters might have been prevented
had he been there far them.
When he had dumped them for a *second* time to find Darla, he
had in essence sentenced his friends to death and his son to a lifetime of
dark rage. His future self (or was it past self? He hated time-travel already)
was so foolish to believe in Darla wishing to seek redemption. Some evil
was just too black to be purified.
"This was all my fault," he uttered when he finally found his voice.
Giles didn't argue. "After the massacre, Buffy and Spike fostered
Brendan. Buffy and Cordelia had become very close over the years- both were
so young and raising difficult children, they had much in common. Buffy and
Spike tried their hardest, raising Brendan alongside Ashleigh, but the damage
was done. He's a boy driven by vengeance, not even a Slayer has seen as many
vampire kills as Brendan Chase has." He sighed heavily, the weary sigh of
a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I'll be amazed
if he lives to see twenty."
Angel remained silent. What could a father say when they heard their
son was practically suicidal?
"Does he ever ask for me?" Angel finally worked up the nerve to ask.
"Yes," Giles said. Before Angel could feel some measure of joy at that,
the ageing Watcher finished, "I think he has a special stake for the occasion.
We never told him of your death three years ago, we ourselves don't know
much. After Brendan's rejection of you not long after his mother's death,
we told you to keep away and you did."
"He blames me, doesn't he?"
"It's easy to forget sometimes but Brendan *is* only a child;
he lost his whole family at the age of six because of a business his absent
father set up. Of course, he blames you." Giles took his glasses off, cleaning
them with a handkerchief. "However, I think if Cordelia hadn't died so prematurely
and in such horrific circumstances then it could have been different for
you both. Brendan might have come to have a father/son relationship with
you."
It was Giles's way of trying to absolve Angel of some of the guilt. It
didn't work but the vampire took some relief in it. Perhaps, he still had
a minute chance in sharing some form of relationship with his son.
"Spike?" Angel said, shaking his head, knowing that the emotions were
starting to wear on the Watcher, who was no longer as young as he remembered.
"I still can't believe him and Buffy are together. And that he of all people
is the foster father to *my* son."
"Yes, well, I suppose not even he could resist a small six-year-old boy
with eyes deader than his could ever be."
End of Chapter Three
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Chapter Four
Something was going down tonight, the sleepy calm of the day had now
been replaced by bustling activity as the twilight hours approached. And
yet, Angel found himself rooted to his usual spot on the sofa as he watched
the action in awe. It was only now that he found himself with indisputable
proof that he was indeed stuck in some future time, how as he watched the
older versions of his past friends prepare for battle.
He felt like a child whose friends had all grown up around him, leaving
him behind. And there was some truth in that imagery.
The Scooby Gang had seen many shifts over the years. The most prominent
being the absence of Willow
Rosenberg, killed
in action with her girlfriend (Angel wasn't sure the exact story there) more
than a decade ago. Joyce Summers was also dead, apparently she had passed
only weeks after he had 'left' his own time.
And everyone else had all grown up and left childhood far behind. Dawn
Summers, no longer a little girl, was now living in New
York married with a four-year-old son. Her
'replacements' being Brendan Chase, Ashleigh Summers, and another teenage
boy and girl by the names of Jesse and Jodie- the fifteen-year-old twin son
and daughter of Xander and Anya Harris.
The Scoobies' babies were now considered of age to join in the battle
against darkness...Angel had never felt older.
What was most shocking to the vampire was finding himself face-to-face
with an older *Spike*. Older in a very much physical sense; his hair
now a wavy sandy brown, long gone was the peroxide blond, and his eyes were
a softer blue much like William's, the boy he had allowed Dru to turn, had
once been. He still carried himself with athletic grace but it was obvious
to Angel's trained eye that he lacked the agility of a vampire. In fact,
Spike was now looking very much like a typical forty-something-year-old human
male. Not a bad achievement for a supposedly immortal, psychotic vampire.
Spike, of course, took great glee in meeting his grandsire, a stark comparison
to the discomfort of the others.. "Long time no see, Peaches," grinned the
vampire.
"Since when did you help out?" Angel spat back, keeping his voice low
so as not to allow an already-volatile Brendan hear him insult his foster
father.
"Well, I've got two Slayers on my back now," replied Spike, "and I'm
not the Big Bad you remember. A sacrifice to save the world again then a
resurrection and I got me a heartbeat."
Angel's brow furrowed deeply. Why had the Powers seen fit to resurrect
Spike then allow him to play a part in raising a young Slayer child?
"How?" He hated that he couldn't keep the curiosity and burning envy
from his voice
To his surprise, Spike's features softened in sympathy. "We're not sure,
our Seer and her boy went before the Oracles to ask, said this was meant to
be."
"Oh, Spi-ike?" Buffy called from the weapons cabinet. "You're meant to
be helping."
"Coming, Luv, just catching up on old acquaintances."
Angel watched as Spike rejoined his wife, the younger vampire-cum-human
instantly slipping back into the role of the average, loving family guy.
His dark eyes narrowed as he mulled over Spike's words.
Spike had Shanshu-ed?! While he buggered around searching for Darla,
had Spike Shanshu-ed in his place? Though it burned to know his soulless grandchilde
had not only been blessed with the gift of humanity that Angel had sought
since he was first cursed with a soul, what was most agonizing was that Cordelia
and their son had supported Spike by going to the Oracles.
Cordelia was *his* Seer, not Spike's. How dare the belligerent
urchin try to take her from him.
His jealousy was further incited as Angel watched Spike joke around with
*his* son, Brendan more at ease with his father's enemy than with
his own father. How could things have gone so wrong? That his own child hated
him but seemingly hero-worshipped Spike of all people.
"Will understands him."
Angel turned to the person who volunteered those soft words and found
Buffy regarding him rather solemnly. Out of all the Scooby Gang, save Spike,
it had to be Buffy who had changed the most in the past sixteen years. Sure,
Xander had out-grown his boyish features, gaining twenty pounds of muscle
and now sporting a beard, yet nonetheless it was his ex-girlfriend who had
grown the most emotionally.
Buffy had shed her immaturity, and there was no hint of that selfish
'I'm the Slayer, you must bow to me' attitude so reminiscent of her younger
days. Motherhood had no doubt played a large part in her transformation from
the occasionally lofty and sullen teenage brat to a wonderful, well rounded
woman who reminded Angel of the late Joyce Summers in so many ways.
Looking at Buffy with her daughter only served to remind Angel of what
Cordelia had been robbed of with her son.
"Will?"
Buffy shrugged. "It's a long story, let's just say there is a lot more
of William in Spike than before."
A part of Angel wondered the exact the details of Spike's Shanshu but
a larger part was more concerned with his son. "Spike, or Will or whatever
you want to call him, understands my own kid better than I do?!" Angel repeated,
incredulously. "He's *my* son, Buffy, mine and Cordy's."
It still amazed Angel how easily he accepted Brendan. Never once since
finding out the boy's parentage had he ever doubted he was the child's father.
Maybe it was simply because Cordelia was the mother, or perhaps it was instinctual,
but already Angel felt obligated, felt protective towards young Brendan Chase.
"But he doesn't know you," Buffy countered. "And with Wesley gone, Brendan
turned to Spike."
"God, what has this come to? My boy hates me, my friends...my family
is dead."
"Brendan doesn't hate you."
Angel snorted at this. "He certainly isn't behaving like an adoring son."
"Oh, he does hate his father, but not you." Angel frowned at her in askance.
"You aren't his father, Angel, none of what happened was really *your*
fault any more than you're really Bren's father. That was all another Angel,
the one who dumped Cordy for a four-hundred-year-old slut. "
"No, Buffy, it was me, just a future version of me."
Buffy cast him an appraising gaze. "He's curious about you, you know.
In many ways, you're still innocent of the things his 'real' father did,
you're not the one Cordy threw out her life, and that helps Brendan almost
forgive you."
Angel's eyes lit up at this, the first good news in all the recent darkness.
Before he could question Buffy further, the object of his thoughts approached
the pair.
"Aunt B, d'you know where you put the Scroll Of Arnolaic that Uncle Giles
is harping on about?" the boy asked, his eyes meeting with Angel's briefly.
"I think it's up in the attic in the box next to all the Christmas stuff.
Do you want me to get it?"
"Nah, I'll go, it's better than listening to Giles lecture me about how
I'm still too young to be out slaying. I don't get it, you were slaying at
fifteen so what's so big about me doin' the same? He never gives Ash or the
twins this much hassle."
Buffy smiled. "I think Giles finds it hard to remember his youngest Junior
Scooby is not a baby he can carry around any more. Go easy on the old guy."
Brendan allowed himself to share in her smile, cast one last look at
Angel, then strolled out to search for the mislaid scroll. The adults watched
him, Angel mulling over what Buffy said.
"You think I have some chance to getting to know him?" he asked, hating
that he sounded less like the shrewd master vampire he was and more like an
uncertain toddler.
"He's a great kid, don't doubt his ability to forgive you," Buffy assured,
with an insight he admired. The days when it was she who so needed his support,
experience and guidance were long gone. "Cordy did a wonderful job with him.
He's not totally unable to be reasoned with, you've just got to be willing
to put in that extra work. I think Cordy would be pleased you had some chance
with him, and Bren knows that."
Angel nodded thoughtfully, then made his decision. Before he turned,
he spared a smile for his ex-girlfriend. "I hope Spike appreciates you or
I'll have to dust him."
"Well, he's always telling me how precious I am to him," grinned the
former Slayer.
He'd once told Cordelia that same when he was in a haze from a session
of the Walking Stick; she was stunned at the time and he regretted that she
would never know how true that statement was.
*****************************
"What do you want?"
Brendan wasn't surprised to sense Angel's presence enter the attic. He
had to give the bloodsucker credit, his old man wasn't worth shit but this
younger version of his father was determined to try his best in regards to
his son. And deep down, Brendan wanted to reciprocate those tentative efforts
for he knew this would be the closest he would ever see of his father.
"I thought I'd give you a hand," Angel replied, unperturbed by the boy's
animosity.
Brendan glowered at Angel, his scowl a constant companion whenever in
the vampire's company. "I don't need anything from you." The father and son
just scrutinized each other for a moment. "You're not my father, not *really*,
so why are you bothering?"
"So you know then?"
"'Course, why d'you think I haven't staked you yet? Aunt B doesn't keep
secrets from me, she doesn't lie. That's your job."
"Touché," Angel conceded, "and I'm sorry, the regret I feel for
leaving you and Cordelia-"
"You never left, she *threw* you out for going behind her back
to help that blond slut then getting all dark and obsessive again."
"Okay, but even though I'm sorry, it's not my fault. I haven't done anything,
Brendan."
The teenager studied his father intently. Granted he loathed Angel, he
had to admit the guy standing in front of him was, in some ways, different.
It was so confusing, all the emotions swirling around; the urge to stake
him right there and then balancing capriciously with the natural curiosity
of a boy who just wanted to know his father.
Brendan relented, shrugging. "I should find that scroll, we'll be facing
some bad ass vamps tonight. They're trying to end the world again. Don't these
dead buggers ever get sick of the same old tricks?"
Angel smiled sheepishly at that, much to Brendan's amazement. His mother
had always said for a broody dead guy, Angel could be so bashful at times.
"Have you been fighting for long?"
"I guess, Mom made sure I mastered martial arts and fencing and stuff
from the second I was walking. She always made sure I knew how to protect
myself. When she died, Uncle Will and Aunt Buffy took over my training, sometimes
Aunt Faith would come and do some stuff with me too."
Angel's ear pricked up at the name. "Faith? You know her?"
He wondered what would have happened to the wayward Slayer without his
support. He had promised to stand by her when she would finally be released
from prison, probably another of his trail of broken promises.
"Yeah," the teenager replied. "Mom helped her a bit when she got early
release. She stuck around for a while, I don't think she got over the fact
she wasn't there Mom and the others were k...Anyway, she lives on the East
Coast now, got a job in some karate school."
"Good," the vampire murmured, at least of one person had not suffered
because of him.
"Yes, I heard." There was a catch in Angel's voice, it wasn't anger at killing his sire but rather the same reproachful quality Brendan heard so many times in Giles's. He didn't approve of his son's chosen 'profession'. Sure enough, Angel said, "Don't you want to do something other than 'fight the good fight'?"
"What's better than fighting for the Light?" Brendan frowned, at a loss.
"Nothing," Angel said quickly, "it's just you're so young, surely you want to do something normal with your life."
"Mom didn't do anything normal." He glowered slightly, more in adolescent irritation than any real anger. "You sound like the others."
Angel must have sensed his mood for he pushed the subject further. "The others?"
"Yeah, Uncle Giles, Aunt B, Ash; they all worry too much as well. They think I might follow in what could become a Chase family tradition."
"What's that?"
"Dying young. My mom was only twenty-seven, Uncle Giles worries I might beat that."
In the days after his family's deaths, even though Buffy and Spike were the one who fostered him, it was Giles who made a point to spend a great deal of time with the grief-stricken child. It was only as Brendan matured and became aware of both his powers and his own intuition that he understood fully why the Watcher felt so responsible for him. It was guilt, pure and simple.
Brendan was a mild empath, a gift from his maternal heritage, and from the remorse he felt from the ageing man he loved like a grandfather, he knew Giles wished he'd done more to keep Cordelia away from Angel back in the very start. If so, his mother might have had a chance of a normal life with a human husband and a bunch of happy children. Instead, all Cordelia Chase had to show for twenty-seven years of life was a grave, which she shared with her two best friends, and one screwed-up kid who was probably destined to join her in premature death.
"Is that something I should worry about too?" Angel asked, worry colouring his tone.
Hell, if he carried on like this, Brendan might be led to think the vampire actually cared.
"Not really, you needn't think that I'm suicidal or anything, I'm not. I hope I at least live long enough to find the bloodsuckers who were responsible for my family's murders. I have plans for them."
Angel's brow furrowed in askance. "What kind of plans?"
"Oh, plans involving Chinese water torture with holy water, UV therapy and I always wanted to know what happens if you cut off a vamp's limbs, whether it grows back or not." Brendan hid a wicked grin when he saw Angel's horrified expression. "Hey, I guess I have more in you than you thought or should it be more of Angelus."
Angel seemed stunned that he could so casually compare himself to his father's demonic persona. "Don't be ridiculous. You're nothing like Angelus."
"How do you know? You know nothing about me."
Brendan could see it hurt so much for Angel to hear those words from his own son but it was the truth.
"You're right," Angel admitted, "I should have been there for Cordelia, for you. I was...am...will be your father, I should have helped bring you up."
"You couldn't even bring up phlegm," Brendan hissed. "And you might have been my father by blood but when I think of my father in reality, I think of Wesley or Will. Wes was the one who was there for me, who tucked me in, read me stories, protected me. He died for me; all you were good for was making my mother cry."
Angel was speechless. "I made her cry?"
"Sometimes, when she thought about you. She tried to make out to me that you were an okay guy but there were nights when I heard her cry, especially when she saw Spike- a once soulless demon- and Buffy making a go of things. She may have cut ties with you but I think she still loved you." Brendan smiled sardonically. "You know, I think she was even thinking of taking me to see you, maybe give things another go."
"What didn't she?"
"Because she died, died fighting a fight that should have been yours."
Angel tried to touch him but the boy stepped back. "You were there, weren't you? It changed you."
"Something like that tends to have a lasting effect on a kid."
"What happened?"
Why was he so interested? Surely it wasn't something that he actually wanted to hear. Brendan was conscious of the fact that Angel harboured feelings for his mother so hearing the exact details of her death would only bring more guilt for the vampire. Was that what he wanted? The evil pathetic-excuse-for-a-father he had always envisioned was starting to fall apart the more time he spent in the vampire's company.
"Do you really want to know?" the teenager quizzed, his voice barely audible, "I can show you, if you want."
"Show me? How?" Angel asked, curious.
"Call it a gift from my mother. She could share the future and she later learnt how to share the past."
At his father's hesitant nod, Brendan reached forward, his smaller hands clasped Angel's larger ones. Meeting the vampire's intense stare, the boy opened his mind and his memories.
****flashback****
Flashes of Brendan toddling through the Hyperion, everything seeming so big through a toddler's eyes; being carried around on Gunn's shoulder; Wesley quietly reading to him with the boy snuggled in his bed; the MC Demon, whom the boy referred to as 'Uncle Lorne' singing to him...And Cordelia hugging their son with the ferocity of a loving mother.
Flickers of insight into his son's life- his first day of nursery, of school, of learning demonology from Wesley. A warm glow lit within the boy as memories of Cordelia and his doting Uncles Wesley, Charles and Lorne flitted through his mind.
The scene suddenly cut to the Hyperion. The drapes were shut against the night sky and the only illumination in the bullpen of the office was from a dim lamp. Brendan was sitting on the desk as he watched his mother and Wesley dash around the room, pulling out various weapons. The boy's legs dangled carelessly, his feet far from the floor given the six-year-old lacked the height he would develop in adolescence.
His empathic senses, senses his mother developed some years after gaining the visions, were in overdrive as he picked up on Cordelia and Wesley's raw anxiety and fear. He had never seen the usually self-controlled and collected adults in such a state, and his own worry churned his stomach. Whatever made his mother and uncle tense could not be good.
"What's wrong?" the boy asked. "Why are you all scared?"
Cordelia smiled in rebuke. "Brendan, you know we shouldn't intrude in people's thoughts, it's not nice."
Suddenly the phone rang, Wesley swiftly answering it before Brendan could reach for it. "Hello, Angel Investigations," he greeted, curtly. Glancing at Cordelia and her son, he turned away at whatever response he received, murmuring answers back. After a brief conversation with the caller, he hung up and turned back, his eyes bleak. "That was one of Gunn's kids- he's out."
"Out where?" Brendan asked, guilelessly.
Wesley spared a watery smile for his godson. "No-where, Bren."
"We're next," Cordelia said, moving to her son's side and pulling the boy into her arms.
The ex-Watcher nodded, melancholy. "Yes, that much is certain."
A wistful haze past across Cordelia's eyes, before she grabbed a small backpack and a denim jacket resting by the side of the desk. Setting Brendan on the floor, she tugged the jacket then the backpack onto the bewildered boy before leading the boy into the main office.
"What's going on?" Brendan asked, sensing the tangible fear from the two adults.
Cordelia knelt down to her son's eye level, and grasped him lightly by his slender shoulders. "You're going to have to be brave for me now, Bren. I need for you to listen to me, okay?"
"I'm listening, Mommy," replied the child, obediently though his eyes shifted from his mother to where Wesley was opening the trapdoor that led to the sewer systems below.
Brendan Chase might only have been six-and-a-half years old, however, even a boy of such a slight age knew he would not like what he was to be told.
Wesley rejoined the mother and son, placing his hand on the boy's soft cheek. "You know I love you, Brendan."
"I love you too, Unca Wes," Brendan said, uncertainly. He didn't understand why Wesley was talking like this but he didn't like it at all.
"You're a good boy, Bren, and I know you'll grow to be a fine man. One that I would always be proud to call my chosen son." Wesley's soft brown eyes glistened with unshed tears. He looked up at Cordelia. "I'll be in the front office."
The Seer mumbled an acknowledgement, although her eyes were fastened to her child before her. She stroked Brendan's soft hair back from his face.
The boy bit his lip. "Mommy, something bad is happening, isn't it?"
"Yes, something bad is happening." The hardened, intensity shining in Cordelia's eyes scared the boy. "I don't want you to worry about a thing, honey. I just want you to listen to me and you'll be fine."
"Okay, Mom. But why are we here? Shouldn't we be out helping Unca Wes get the weapons ready?"
"I will in a minute."
Brendan didn't like how his mother phrased that response. "*We* will, I'm gonna be helping, Mom. It's my fight too." He might only have been a small child, but he knew of his own duty in the good fight.
However, his mother shook her head, putting a hand on the boy's baby soft cheek. "No, Bren, it's not your fight. You're a little boy, one day you'll fight too but it's not going to be here and it's not going to be now. I want you to listen to me now, Brendan, I want you to follow the tunnels to where I showed you and then get out and take the first bus to Sunnydale. Your Aunt Buffy and Uncle Spike will protect you."
Now it was Brendan's turn to shake his head. "No, Mom, I want to stay with you." He tried to squirmed away but Cordelia had a firm grip on his shoulder.
"Do as I say," Cordelia said, firmly but not unkindly. Her voice cracked a little. "I need for you to do this. Please?"
At the pleading tone in the Seer's voice, the boy halted his struggles. He would do anything for his mother, even walk away when she asked him to.
"Okay, okay, I'll go, Mommy."
Struggling to choke back his tears and not make this any harder for his mother, Brendan threw himself into her arms. Cordelia embraced him tightly, stroking his hair.
"Remember, Bren," she murmured, "I'll always be with you, not matter what happens..."
*******
Buffy opened the door and entered the hospital room followed by Brendan and Spike. The vampire's hair was his natural colour and he appeared to have aged slightly, a sign he was now human. A further indication of his evident humanity was how the former vampire's hand rested on the child's shoulder in an effort to comfort him.
Brendan pulled away from the adults and moved further into the room, his wide eyes fixed on his mother. Cordelia was unconscious; her face pale and waxen, her body attached to so much medical paraphernalia she looked less like a woman and more like some kind of robot.
Brendan glanced back at his guardians; tears pooled in the adults' eyes. Turning back to Cordelia's still form, he swallowed then inched to her side.
"Mom?" whispered the boy. "Mommy, please come back. Don't leave me alone..."
*******
Brendan was crouched by a grave plot. Despite the shroud of darkness gracing the cemetery, the youngster was more than aware of someone creeping up behind him; his heightened senses the soft footsteps over the grassy path towards him.
"Hello, Aunt B," he murmured, not even turning.
"Lorne said you'd be here." The boy heard Buffy sigh heavily, she knelt down by his side. "Brendan, we were worried sick. You know you shouldn't go wandering around at night. LA is not a safe place for a child."
"Vampires can't drain me."
"I'm not just talking about vampires, there are bad humans out there as well."
"The mood I'm in, it's the perverts who are the ones who should be scared...I-I just wanted to see them again before we go back to Sunnydale."
The boy reached forward, his tiny fingers hesitantly touching the greenish marble of the large grave stone. He traced the words inscribed into the stone, which read:
-----
Cordelia Chase
1981-2009
Wesley Wyndham-Price
1975-2009
Charles Gunn
1978-2009
They fought the darkness and protected the light
Dearly missed by Brendan and their special family
'Even when I walk through the valley of death,
I will fear no evil'
-----
"Book of Psalms, chapter twenty-three, verse four. God, I have be the only vampire who knows the Bible by heart, huh? Wes says we should have an understanding of all religious scriptures in our line of work." He still spoke in present tense in regards to his late uncle.
"Wesley taught you well, Bren," Buffy said softly.
Brendan smiled faintly at a memory. "Yeah, he said it was important for me the learn about these things. He used to do different voices when he read the Bible out to me sometimes. For a walking encyclopaedia, he can be so goofy...could be," he corrected, morosely.
The boy and Slayer sat in silence for a while then Buffy cleared her throat. "Angel came to see me today. He wants to see you."
"Well, I don't wanna see him." Brendan's voice was sharp and adamant, the sheer force of his determination so like his mother's.
"Brendan, he's your father-"
"I hate him! I hate more than anything. It's all his fault. Mommy...Wes and Unca Charles...They would still be here with me if it wasn't for him. He's not my father. And if you make me see him, I swear I'll drive a stake right through his heart then wash his ashes away with holy water."
The boy's words were more vicious than any six-year-old's voice had a right to be. The anger and rage were vehement.
"It's okay, you know I would never force you to see him. God knows, Angel hasn't been a part of your life before and that doesn't have to change if you don't want it to." Buffy smoothed the boy's unruly hair. "Bren, I know what it's like to lose a mother. You won't ever forget the pain but it will get easier to deal with, and we'll always be here for you. Me, Will, Giles, Xander and Anya, the other kids, you'll have us always. Cordelia was my friend, and I would do anything to protect her boy," she smiled slightly, "especially when he's as handsome and wonderful as you."
"I know...Aunt Buffy, I was thinking and I figured that we each want what the other has."
"What do you mean?"
"You had much longer with your mom than I'll ever have...And I, I'll have the chance to avenge my mother's death."
****end flashback****
As the vision misted over, Brendan pulled away from Angel, self-consciously fidgeting. For his part, Angel was literally speechless. What could he say to the boy after experiencing his pain and fear first-hand? There was nothing in the world he could do to atone for what he did to Cordelia and his son the day he abandoned them, and he finally understood why Brendan maintained his vicious hostility even after all the years that had passed.
Cordelia's bittersweet words to her young son in their last moments together rang out in Angel's mind as well as Brendan's disturbing vow of vengeance. He wasn't surprised to find his eyes slightly damp; he hadn't cried for over a century.
"Not happy viewing, huh?" Brendan muttered, breaking the silence between them.
"You must hate me," was all Angel could force his voice to say.
"I did, I do...But you're not him. My father is the one who left the good fight, you haven't done so yet."
Pride in his son swelled within Angel. How hard it must have been to utter those words to someone who in many ways caused the death of your family. It was far more than what he himself would say to anyone who had done likewise.
Brendan chewed his lip then said, softly, "Their deaths weren't entirely my father's fault though."
"What do you mean?"
"Mom and Wes could have gotten away." When the boy spoke, it was without the usual confidence and aloofness that favoured his voice. It was almost as if he was divulging a confession. "When they put me into the sewers, Mom and Wes went back to fight off the vamps, keep them off my back. I knew them too well, they wanted to give me the best chance, they always did things like that." Brendan sighed, wearily. "You know, Mom used to get this look in her eyes, one that told me she'd do anything, she'd lay out her own life, to protect me whether I wanted that or not. And that night she had to."
Looking at the boy before him, seeing him properly for the first time, Angel realized that Brendan still carried the softness of childhood in his physical features but it was his eyes...They carried a weight far heavier that any fifteen-year-old kid should know.
This boy before him was his last link to Cordelia and anything he might have had with her. He didn't want to see Brendan walk down the same path of death and destruction that his parents had been so familiar with. It had become vitally important to Angel to provide something better for his son, give him a second chance.
"Oh, look, found the scroll," Brendan said, pulling a rolled up piece of parchment from a box. After his disclosure a few moments ago, the boy seemed eager to escape from his father's company. "Better get this to Giles before he blows a gasket." He quickly moved to the door.
"Brendan?"
Angel couldn't just let him go like that. They had made some progress and he wasn't about to flush that away to save himself the discomfort of using his pathetic people skills which Cordelia had tried so hard to hone.
"I...I know that your mother would be very proud of you. I might not really be your father but you certainly feel like my son. You've done so well despite all that has happened, and I want you to know that I'm very proud of you too."
The boy smirked. "You should be, I have a whole book of prophecies written about me."
"You don't say," Angel smiled. He watched his son stop at the door then turn when he called his name once more, feeling the need to say more. "Bren, it wasn't your fault, your mother wouldn't want you to go through your life thinking it was. You were not even six years old, if you had stayed then there would be four bodies buried in that tomb. Cordelia would have rather died a thousand times than seen that happen. Always remember that."
For a moment, Brendan was silent then he nodded slightly. "And it wasn't your fault either...Father."
Angel watched as the boy left the room, for the first time since arriving in this place his heart warm. He had never thought someone would ever call him 'Father'; sure, Drucilla addressed him as 'Daddy' when she was having one of her episodes but the feelings of tenderness and love were never present, not like what he associated with Brendan.
After tonight, he was going to make an effort to carve some sort of relationship with his and Cordelia's son. She might been dead, however he still had a responsibility to make things right even if he was nine years too late. Angel was more than aware he would never really be the boy's true father- both literally or metaphorically- but some bond between them was better than nothing.
"Thank you so much, Cordy," he murmured to the girl who had given him the best gift ever.
End of Chapter Four
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Well, I hope you guys are still with me and are enjoying this story. Please feel free to email me with any comments you have.