Heal Me
Part 4
By Gem
They had only taken a few steps into the hallway when Dawn came flying out of the kitchen and skidded to a halt just inches away from Buffy.
"You're home," the teenager said breathlessly. Her gaze flicked backed and forth between her sister and her sister's former lover. "Both of you," she added, a sly smile lighting her thin face.
"Is Connor okay?" Angel asked. "Did he fall asleep yet?" He glanced into the darkened living room and down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he could see no signs of his offspring.
Dawn snorted at his obvious concern, and even more apparent lack of common sense. "He conked out ages ago. I put him in Buffy's room." Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. "You're not going to wake him up now, are you, just so you can leave?"
"No, actually Angel, that is Angel and Connor, are going to be staying a few days," Buffy said. "Staying here. With us." She could feel the blush beginning to color her cheeks as she stammered, and she didn't dare look at Angel to see how he was holding up.
Dawn beamed like a fond parent at a child displaying an unexpected talent. "That's so great. I mean I knew Angel would have to come back to pick up Connor, but I was kind of hoping you guys would work things out and then we'd could all be," she shrugged, her smile suddenly becoming hesitant, "you know, like one big happy family."
"Dawnie," Buffy said hastily, "we still have a lot of things to work out. Through. Whatever. Angel's not moving in or anything, we're just...getting back on track. Slowly," she added as a final warning.
"I don't care what you say; I just like seeing you look happy again," Dawn said stoutly. "Real Buffy happy, not the 'bot version you do when you think anyone is watching you. I always thought it must hurt your face to force it to smile that much when it didn't want to."'
Buffy leaned over and gave her sister a big hug, whispering into Dawn's ear, "You have no idea."
"So Connor went down okay?" Angel took a few quick steps towards the staircase, anxiously glancing up it before he turned back to the Summers sisters. "I should probably go check on him."
"I just looked in there, like, five minutes ago, but if you don't trust the babysitter..." Dawn trailed off suggestively, sharing a grin with Buffy.
"It's not that." Angel looked stricken. "I trust you, Dawn. I just wanted to make sure, umm, that you...umm." His jaw reflexively clenched as he scrambled for an excuse, and tried to ignore Buffy's giggle. "Did you change him first? Before you put him down, I mean. Because I brought lots of spare diapers but he goes through..."
Dawn held up her hands to ward off Angel's questions. "I changed him, and I even remembered to burp him again...and then he remembered to throw up half the bottle Buffy gave him." She tapped her foot several times for emphasis. "All over my new sweater."
Angel grinned, feeling something tight within him relax at the sheer normality of the conversation. "Yeah, forgot to warn you about that. He's good for two or three pats, but anything more and..."
"Hello Pompeii," Dawn finished gloomily. "I noticed."
"It washes out, but I'll buy you a new sweater anyway," Angel promised. He looked quickly at Buffy, his brow furrowing as a new concern surfaced. "I just realized something; I only had one other outfit for him in that bag. If we're staying a few days, we're both going to need more clothes."
Buffy gave herself a moment to enjoy the image that popped into her head when Angel mentioned a lack of clothing, but all too soon she was forced to rejoin the world of responsible adulthood. Delightful as the idea was, it would hardly be the thing to reenact the Garden of Paradise with her teenage sister in the house. Besides, there were some aspects of Angel that Buffy preferred to keep a mystery.
To everyone but her, that is.
"I'll go get him some things tomorrow," she promised, temporarily shelving her libido. "You too. I have to go out for a little while anyway because I need to stop by work and tell them I won't be stopping by anymore. As of tomorrow, Buffy is out of the burger biz."
Dawn looked at her quizzically. "But I didn't think you'd found a new job yet."
"I haven't." Buffy glanced over at Angel and smiled. "But sometimes you just have to leap first and trust that you'll land on your feet on the other side."
"That's so sweet." Dawn sighed happily. "In a weird 'Evil Knevil jumps the hellmouth' sort of way."
"Go to bed, Dawn." Buffy's smile hadn't faded in the slightest, but she had definitely returned from Planet Romance.
"Am I going to be missing anything interesting?" her younger sister asked hopefully.
"Only your social life for the next week if you don't go to bed this minute."
Dawn turned on her heel, grumbling, "What social life?" as she marched up the steps.
Buffy waited until Dawn had rounded the corner at the top of the stairs before she turned her attention back to Angel.
"Okay, the phone is all yours, and I'll even leave you alone to make the call." She paused, desperately trying to appear casual as she added, "Unless you'd like me here for, you know, moral support or something. Because I'd be happy to stay."
Angel grinned in spite of himself. "I'm sure you would...but I'll be fine on my own. They won't bite. Laugh, maybe...probably...," he sighed, "but they can't bite over the phone."
Still she hesitated. "I...I can go check on Connor for you...if you're sure..."
He didn't say anything this time, just cocked his head and smiled at her. She took the hint and left him alone to face his demons, otherwise known as his best friends.
* * * * *
The phone rang four times before anyone at the Hyperion picked it up, and then Angel wasn't expecting the voice he heard.
"Angel Investigations," Lorne purred. "Just how big of a guardian angel are you looking for tonight?"
Angel sighed; this was why Lorne wasn't supposed to be answering the phone. "Lorne," the vampire said patiently, "we've been over the way to answer the office calls. I don't want any more clients scared off thinking it's a 900 number they hit by accident."
"Angel-cakes, you have to learn to relax a little. Have some fun with your holy mission."
"Lorne, can I..."
"Now, why the jingle to jangle my chain? Haven't you hit the lonesome highway yet?"
"I'm trying to tell..." Angel frowned at the receiver. "Have you been watching westerns with Fred again? Wait, never mind; it doesn't matter." He sighed, collecting the thoughts scattered as only Lorne knew how to do. "I'm not coming back tonight; that's why I'm calling. We're going to be staying a few more days in Sunnydale."
"You're staying in Sunnydale? For days, maybe even enough to fill a week?"
"Maybe," Angel answered cautiously. Lorne's voice had suddenly gained in both volume and dramatic intensity, usually a good indicator of trouble in River City. And what was that noise in the background?
"Lorne, what was that noise?"
There was another noise on the LA end of the line, a muffled hissing sound this time, as though someone was being hushed. Then Lorne was back, asking brightly, "What noise?"
"It sounded like...," Angel concentrated, trying to mentally reproduce the first questionable sound. "Like someone shouting 'yes' or 'yay.' Something like that."
"Oh that noise. It was...it, uh, was. Gunn is, umm, watching a porno movie...you know these kids and pay-per-view...or maybe it's from one of those wannabe cable networks; they're almost as bad these days with the down and dirty. Anyway, they just got to the part where..."
"Forget it," Angel said quickly. "I don't want to hear it."
Lorne's chuckle was hastily turned into a cough, partially covering the sound of hurried footsteps in the background. "So, Sunnydale, huh? Can't tear yourself away?"
Angel pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment and treated it to a suspicious frown; something strange was going on at the hotel and he couldn't figure out why Lorne was hiding it from him.
"Why are you shouting? Who's there with you besides Gunn? And what was that...slapping noise?" He closed his eyes. "Or don't I want to know?"
"You don't want to know," Lorne speedily assured him. "Hey, how's the little guy taking it all in? And how's the little lady taking in the little guy?"
"They have names, Lorne. And they're getting along fine, if you must know."
"I must, I must."
"You're shouting again; who are you talking to?" Angel strained his ears, trying to be sure of the sounds this time. "And why do I hear...is that a champagne cork? And glasses; I'm sure I heard glasses clinking."
"Would we have champers without you? Your glass is always so nice and rosy with that little O-pos chaser; it really adds a festive touch. No, no, that was...gunfire. And breaking windows. This is LA, after all."
Angel sighed as he rubbed the tight line of clenched muscle forming between his brows; Lorne was a good and loyal friend, but there were times he could have given the Headless Horseman a migraine.
"So you...and Gunn. are just sitting around the office watching porno films while someone is firing bullets through the glass in the lobby doors...have I got the situation right?"
Lorne sniffed loudly, outraged dignity vibrating through his vocal cords right down into the phone lines. "I know you said no parties, but this is just family."
It wasn't worth the bother; Angel decided to face the damage, and pay the bills for it, when he got back. Tonight he had other things on his mind.
"You know...just forget I asked. Listen, I really called to talk with...well, with Cordelia. Is she there?"
"Sure thing; who do you think made the popcorn for movie night?"
"Popcorn and champagne; gee, I miss all the fun." The vampire's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh wait, that wasn't champagne, was it? It was popcorn and gunfire. My mistake."
"Is it my fault you don't know how to party? We're just having a little fun; we're fine."
Fine, they were fine; Angel clung to that fact even as he questioned Lorne's precise definition of the word. They were, and would, survive without him. It felt a little lonely, but also strangely liberating; there were others who needed him now.
"Good; I'm glad to hear it," he said sincerely. "Now if you could just get Cordy..."
"No sooner said, my friend."
There was a brief moment of silence before Angel heard the voice of the person he'd really been trying to reach.
"Angel? It's Cordelia."
* * * * *
Buffy hovered indecisively between the open doorway to her bedroom and the top of the stairs. She could hear Angel talking, his voice occasionally rising in query, and then falling as the questions posed were obviously answered. She wanted to get close enough to hear; she wanted to know what he was saying to Cordelia, but he had made it pretty clear he wanted to do this alone. Which was good, she told herself; which made sense. Except it meant that Buffy had no idea what was going on.
Just because Cordy didn't want him didn't mean she really wanted him back with Buffy; the Slayer didn't buy that much of a Chase-reformation. Even as Buffy waited for Angel to join her upstairs, Cordelia could be talking him into going back to LA immediately. Buffy couldn't let that happen; she just couldn't. There were limits to how many times a person could give up her dreams and not shatter, and Buffy had passed that point with Angel about two good-byes ago. She started for the staircase, intent on fighting for her man.
And then she heard him say Cordelia's name...worse, Cordelia's nickname...and she realized she couldn't stop any of this. Events had spun out of her control long ago, and having said her piece to Angel, all she could do now was wait. And hope.
And plan very painful tortures for anyone who tried to screw things up this time, herself included.
* * * * *
"Cordy," he said softly. "Hi. It's, umm, well you know who it is, don't you?"
"Yeah, which would probably be why I said 'Angel' instead of 'This is Cordelia Chase, actress extraordinaire. I'm ready for my close-up'. Have you been drinking or something?"
He laughed self-consciously. Why was this so hard? This was Cordelia, his friend Cordelia; she would understand. Hell, she understood before he did.
"No, I, uh, just...I guess I just drifted off for a second. I, umm, didn't hear what you said."
Cordelia's theatrical sigh flowed effectively along the lengths of fiber optic cable. "Very flattering, Angel. I'm sure Buffy will really appreciate it when you try that line on her."
"Umm, yeah, that's kind of why I'm calling," he said awkwardly. "About Buffy, I mean...and me."
"As in, you're back together...like you were ever really apart...and you're not quite sure how to rescind that earlier offer of undying devotion you made to me."
Ouch. There were times it hurt to have friends who knew how your mind, and guilt complexes, worked.
"That, uh, that would be the problem, yes." He drummed his fingers on the desk, stalling for time while he looked deep within himself for the right words, or any words at all, to explain the situation. "Listen, I feel really badly about...earlier. About the things I said...and the things I couldn't say...and I just really don't want this to mess anything up."
Angel gritted his teeth, waiting for the well-deserved recriminations that would follow.
"The only thing it might have messed up was between you and Buffy, and it sounds like it didn't. So we're good."
She wasn't mad, though he wasn't quite sure why not. After the way he'd embarrassed them both, he wouldn't have blamed Cordelia for calling in a priest to consecrate his showerhead; he almost expected it. Angel breathed a quick sigh of relief; it had all been so simple.
His eyes narrowed; it had been a little too simple.
"Cordelia," he said slowly, "why are you letting me off the hook so easily?"
"Oh I'm prepared to be very forgiving," she answered sweetly, "in return for one thing."
Now he was getting somewhere. His muscles began to relax even as his mind feverishly sorted through the myriad of possible bribes he would be required to cough up. Somehow he didn't think a new wardrobe would cover it this time, for all that Cordelia approved of his sense of style.
"I'm not in charge of the raises anymore, but I'll see what I can do with Wes," he promised, opting for the most likely fine.
"Okay, make that two things. No, what I actually meant was a certain little phrase that I'm not hearing...that I really think you owe me...that I promise only to hold over your head for the next thirty or forty...maybe fifty...years, which, you know, is just a drop in the bucket for you, so..."
Of course, the stiffest fine of all. Not that he hadn't intended to say it anyway.
"Cordelia," he interrupted her, "I was wrong."
"And he gets it in one," she said happily. "Now do you mind if I put you on speaker phone so I can have witnesses? I'm also thinking of calling in a notary, if you can hang on the line for a few minutes..."
"I was wrong and I'm sorry."
"Ooo, two for the price of one; I like this game."
"And thank you," he finished quietly.
The teasing note abruptly vanished from her voice. "You're welcome. I'm just glad somebody's going to get a happy ending around here."
Angel glanced up the staircase, picturing Buffy tucking Connor in; watching his little chest rise and fall as Angel had done every night since his birth. A happy ending. Yeah, he was already well on his way to one.
"I am sorry about Groo," he said sincerely, "but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if something is meant to be, it will be. I'm living proof."
"Hah!"
"Okay, so non-living but remarkably lifelike proof."
"I suppose I can try to take that the way you meant it, instead of the kind of creepy way it sounded." She yawned loudly in his ear. "Listen, it's late, and you probably have...things...you want to do. I'm gonna go."
Angel briefly considered explaining the reality of his immediate future with Buffy, but he quickly decided there were some things he would like to try to keep private this time, at least for a little while.
"Good...oh, wait. Could you just answer me one question?"
He could hear a deep sigh at the other end of the line.
"Okay, I guess you deserve it."
"Deserve..."
"The answer is yes; if you had asked me a few weeks from now, when I really knew Groo wasn't coming back...maybe, just maybe, I would have answered differently. Are you happy now?"
Angel could feel a momentary panic seize his gut; oh god, he'd come even closer to disaster than he'd thought. If he'd waited, as he wanted to, instead of following Lorne's advice...he shuddered at the thought.
"That wasn't what I...I mean thanks, but I actually didn't need to know..."
"Oh," she said flatly. "Well, if you weren't going to ask...then I never answered."
"Umm, sure," he agreed uneasily. "Listen, I really just wanted to know what was going on there. I heard all these weird noises and Lorne...he wasn't making much sense."
Or maybe he had been making a little too much. Bits and pieces of the past few days...even months...began to coalesce in Angel's mind, glued together by Cordelia's subsequent answer.
"Well Fred's doing some sort of, umm, Pylean mating dance, I guess; she's hammering out the 'rumption' riff at any rate. And Gunn is playing keep- away with Lorne's champagne bottle. Wesley went home early."
Angel couldn't help but smile as he pictured them creating complete chaos in what once would have been his orderly retreat from humanity. But to realize what lengths they must have gone to, just because he had been too afraid to risk his heart again...it was more than a little embarrassing.
"Thanks, Cordy; that, uh, explains a lot. I'll see you in a few days, unless something big comes up; you know how to reach me if it does." He started to hang up, but paused to leave one final message. "Oh and Cor, could you thank Lorne for me? He'll...he'll know why."
He gently put the receiver down into the cradle, and let his head fall onto his folded arms. From above him, he heard Buffy's quiet footsteps coming down the staircase.
"I have never been so humiliated in my life," he groaned.
Buffy hurried down the rest of the steps and slipped her arm around his shoulders. She rested her head next to his on the desk, trying to direct her voice under his folded arms.
"Oh Angel, trust me; you're going to be humiliated a lot worse than this." She felt his arm stiffen beneath her hand and hastened to explain. "Don't forget, I've seen you with that little boy upstairs. I just know what kind of a dad you're going to be. The first tooth he loses...you'll cry. And the first fall from his bike? Definite emergency room trip."
"You're not helping," he grumbled, still hiding his face.
Buffy stood up and tugged at his arm, slowly dragging him off of the seat.
"Come on," she coaxed. "We'll go upstairs, and you'll see Connor all tucked up in the little bed Dawn made for him in my Slayer trunk, and you'll forget all about the fifty shades of red you'd be turning if you could turn even one."
* * * * *
They crept into Buffy's bedroom, stepping over the myriad of weapons Dawn had scattered on the floor when she cleared out a sleeping space for Connor. To add to the challenge of the obstacle course, Dawn had turned out all the lights except for the little desk light; its faint glow barely illuminated the open trunk pulled over to the foot of the bed.
"Doesn't he look adorable?" Buffy whispered as they knelt down next to the trunk and peered at the small figure sleeping peacefully on the pillow stuffed inside. "When I first saw him in there I was wishing we still had Dawn's old doll crib, or at least something a little nicer to put him in. But then I thought...this is the first time I've liked having this trunk here. It's the first time it's been used just for something...good."
Angel reached out and gently touched his son's warm cheek; beside him Buffy stretched out her hand to twitch the blankets over a small exposed foot. It was such a small domestic moment, but it was everything Angel had dreamed of since he had learned he was going to be a father. The reality, however, was so much more than he had ever expected. To finally be in this moment in time almost frightened him.
"Angel," Buffy said softly, turning her face towards him, "Stay with me tonight."
He had spent so long running from this life because he believed it could never be; now that it was his for the taking he almost backed away out of sheer habit. But he didn't have to walk away anymore; this was his life, whether he deserved it or not.
"Are you sure?" he asked gravely. "You know we can't let anything happen...not yet."
She nodded. "I know. And I'm not saying I won't be tempted," she leaned over and brushed a kiss across his cheek, "but I don't think I could call it 'settling' if I get to fall asleep in your arms and wake up the same way. We've never done that before."
They hadn't, not even on their lost day, and it was something Angel had always regretted. Something he thought he would be forced to regret until the end of time.
Angel gave Connor's little face one last caress before he stood up. Buffy stood up with him, taking his hand firmly in hers and leading him over to the bed.
They kicked off their shoes and then sat down side by side on the bed, hands still clasped. Angel watched Buffy's face carefully as he slid back on the bed, towards the other side. She smiled softly at him as she followed, and molded herself to the curve of his body with a contented sigh.
Home at last.
* * * * *
Angel woke up slowly, reluctant to surrender the comfort of his favorite dream. He wash awash in the scent of those dearest to him; he could feel two pulses vibrating against his lonely skin; he could hear the gentle, relaxed breathing of two beloved souls in utter contentment. He never wanted to wake up.
A sound dragged him from the dream; a tiny, breathy cry designed to ping the radar in any parent. His eyes opened wide, obedient if not eager, and thereupon presented him with a picture that outshone any dream.
When he and Buffy had fallen asleep she was twined around his body, and he had never wished her to be anywhere else. Now she rested almost a foot away from him, but his arm still lay trapped under the warm curve of her neck, and between them lay Connor, swaddled in his traveling blanket. One of Buffy's arms rested gently across the baby's legs, the other curled beneath his tiny head, cradling him in the protective circle created by her body and Angel's.
If Angel's heart could have resumed beating, it would have stopped at this sight. This was the moment he'd waited a dozen lifetimes for, the moment he'd been born for. This was bliss in its purest form.
Pure bliss. True happiness. Even as he basked in the moment, another, far uglier thought roared from the back of his brain. This was peace, and joy and complete happiness; he had known the taste of them before, and each time his life had been ripped to shreds just hours afterwards. His life, and one much more precious to him than his own.
Now two lives hung in the balance, not including his own unworthy one.
* * * * *
Connor's dark eyes blinked open, regarding his father with the same unwavering trust he had exhibited since the moment of his birth. It was a faith Angel had always found daunting, but now it was truly terrifying.
Not now, the vampire whispered silently. Please not now, after how far we've come.
Buffy began to stir, her slight body tightening and then relaxing in an enormous stretch as she slowly opened her eyes.
"Mmm, I think I must be back in heaven," she murmured, sliding her fingers across Connor's legs to tug on the edge of Angel's shirt.
For the first time since her return, there was no trace of regret in Buffy's memories of heaven. Whatever waited for her on the other side, it could hold no weight against the joy of waking up next to Angel. Add in one small child, who had inexplicably stolen her heart from the instant she first laid eyes on him, and she was somewhere far beyond her expectations, or remembrances, of heavenly reward.
"Angel?" She smiled sleepily at him. "What's the deep thought for the day? You look like you're composing a lu-lu."
Angel forced away his panic, shoving it to the back of his brain for later. He wasn't sure of the precise timing, but if something was going to happen...please make it 'if' and not 'when'...it wouldn't be for at least an hour, probably two. The last time he'd had a chance to savor his gift, time to believe it was his forever, and time to relax into sleep secure in that belief. He had to believe he would be granted at least that much time today; enough time to let Buffy enjoy this moment of awakening the way she deserved to enjoy it. Later...if anything did happen later...they would handle it.
No, he would handle it, in the only way left to him.
All he needed was a sharp stick and a moment alone. There was no other way, if simply waking up with the two people he loved tipped the balance. There were too many moments that waited for him like false bottoms in a magician's trunk; too many tedious, repetitive, beautiful everyday moments that could snap his fragile grasp on humanity before he could stop it.
"I was wondering how can you look so beautiful when you just woke up," he murmured, reaching out to caress a stray lock of blonde hair that trailed across her cheek. If these were to be his last moments, he wanted to revel in them, and he wanted Buffy to know that he had.
She brushed a hand self-consciously through her sleep-mussed hair. "Try how can you manage to say the right thing when you're no more awake than I am," she grumbled good-naturedly, pretending to nip at his fingers as they lingered on her cheek. "That's the real mystery."
"You inspire me."
Connor's small hand reached up to grab Angel's arm, effectively reminding them both of their audience. Buffy laughed and hugged the baby, rubbing her chin on the downy wisps of his dark hair as she smiled over his head at Connor's father.
"Guess maybe it was a good idea to have him in the bed with us after all," she teased. "It's kind of hard to get carried away when you'd have to carry me over him."
"How did he end up here anyway? Not that I'm complaining," he hastened to add, "but even as gifted as he is, he's not ready for walking just yet. Next week maybe."
Buffy smiled at the note of pride in Angel's voice when he talked about his son. He might try to shrug it off, but she could see the near awe with which he beheld Connor.
"I got up to check the shades around dawn. He wasn't fussing or anything, but he...he smiled at me." She shrugged as a slight blush stained her cheeks. "I thought finding him with us would be a nice surprise when you woke up."
"It was," he quickly reassured her. "It was...the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Thank you."
She felt a peculiar frisson of unease flicker down her spine at the intensity of his answer, but it was banished almost immediately when he returned the conversation to the more mundane.
"There is, however," Angel sniffed the air and grinned, "the diaper issue. As in, he usually needs a new one first thing every morning."
Buffy's arms automatically loosened around Connor's back as she gazed down at him in comic dismay.
"Eww...now that's an alarm clock I could do without."
Connor's toothless smile softened Buffy's squeamish heart, however, and she shifted her elbow to help her sit up with him still in her arms.
"Okay, little man, what do you say Daddy changes your diaper while Aunt..." her voice trailed off as she glanced at Angel. "While I," she firmly continued a moment later, "go down to the kitchen and whip you up a nice fresh bottle of formula?"
Alone. She wanted to leave him alone with Connor. Angel sat up abruptly, reaching out to stop her before he had even decided what to say.
"Buffy, wait," he said urgently. "I can't...I can't let you do that." Calm; he had to remain calm. She needed to know, but not yet. Until the time was right, he had to play it cool.
"Excuse me?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"I, uh, can't possibly deprive you of the experience of changing a diaper on a wiggling baby when you're still half-asleep." His voice acquired a wheedling note. "Besides, if I go downstairs first I can make breakfast for all of us. I'm not a half-bad cook...especially when you consider I can't really even appreciate my own creations."
He had an enticing hint of the 'bad boy' aura in his smile, strangely all the more alluring to her for its domestic source. Buffy pursed her lips, shifting her gaze from Angel to Connor, and then back to Angel. In the end, she was no match for the two sets of melting brown eyes that silently pleaded with her.
"Okay," she sighed. "I guess I need to figure out this diaper stuff anyway...though if Dawn can do it using just what a bunch of monks planted in her head, I ought to be able to do it with one hand tied behind my back and a crossbow in the other." She tilted her head to the side. "Actually, that might be an interesting drill some time. And you can bet it's one the Watcher's Council never thought of."
Angel slipped of the bed quickly, unobtrusively palming a stake as he put on his shoes. Dawn's careless emptying of Buffy's Slayer trunk the night before had at least one useful aspect: weapons were, sadly, all-too readily available.
"Use two hands," he advised, sliding the stake up his sleeve before he headed for the door. "One of them needs to keep a diaper over him at all times. Otherwise, you're going to be taking one more shower than you planned on today."
She tilted her head to the side and frowned, puzzling out his last comment as she listened to the echo of his footsteps on the stairs. It took Connor's cooing to draw her attention back to the task at hand.
"Hmm, now what do you suppose he meant by that, little man?"
* * * * *
Angel was strangely preoccupied when Buffy, Dawn and Connor joined him in the kitchen. He was obviously trying to stay with the conversation, but his responses were all a beat too late, his laughs a little too forced. Buffy could sense something was wrong the moment she walked into the room, but she couldn't subject Dawn to another scene, let alone poor Connor. So the Slayer bided her time, obediently consuming the abundant, and surprisingly tasty, breakfast Angel set before her, watching while he showed Dawn how to prepare Connor's bottle and feed the baby, and waiting for the right moment to pounce.
The moment came when Dawn pushed back her chair and started to leave the kitchen, alone.
"Dawn," Angel said anxiously, "where are you going? Don't you want to take Connor with you?"
Dawn looked puzzled, almost as much as Buffy felt.
"Well, I was going to take a shower," she said slowly, glancing at her sister with unspoken questions in her eyes. "I sort of figured he'd stay with you guys."
"Actually I'd, umm, appreciate it if you bring him back to Buffy's room for a little nap." Angel stood up stiffly and began clearing the table, snatching at the dishes with little regard for the fragility.
"But he just got up," Dawn protested.
"He's still a little tired. Look, if it's that big of an imposition I can do it." Angel set the plates on the counter with unwitting force, causing one to crack with an audible snap. "I just thought since you seemed so eager to help last night that..."
She held up her hands. "No, hey, I can help."
Dawn leaned down to free Connor from the car seat where she'd set him down after burping him, but Angel beat her to it. Gently he lifted the baby up to his chest, breathing in the scent and warmth of his child for what might be the last time.
"You be good," he whispered hoarsely in Connor's ear. "Remember that I love you."
Dawn shared an uneasy look with Buffy as she reached over to take Connor from his father. "Okay, well, umm, if anybody needs us we'll just be...upstairs. Again."
Buffy waited until she heard the bang of Dawn's bedroom door closing before she advanced on Angel.
"So, you want to tell me what that was about?"
He turned quickly, seeming both surprised and disconcerted to find her right by his side. His long, graceful fingers, normally so steady and sure, spasmed on the countertop and accidentally sent one of the glasses crashing into the sink.
"What what was about?"
Buffy jerked a thumb at the doorway to the hall. "That. The oh-so-subtle hand-off of your son; the same baby you could hardly bear to let Dawn touch twelve hours ago." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Not to mention, last night you were so up with people I thought we'd have to let you hand out flowers at the airport to work it off. Now we're back to Angel's House of Stylish Brood. What gives?"
Angel gulped nervously and checked his watch.
"And what's with the watch thing?" she asked, pointing at his upraised wrist. "You've been doing that since we came downstairs. Do you have a date or something?"
Fifty-eight minutes. Fifty-eight too-short minutes since the first domino had toppled. It was time to tell her the truth, now that Dawn and Connor were safely out of the way.
Now that only minutes remained in which to grieve.
"Sit down," he said quietly, stepping back and waving his hand at the kitchen chairs.
Buffy shook her head, arms still stubbornly crossed. "Talk first; then I'll decide if I can't stand up."
Angel stared unseeingly over her shoulder at the closed Venetian blinds, his mind consumed with the vision that met him upon awaking. "I don't...I don't know how to say this."
"Just say it," she said, her voice sharp from the tension building up inside of her. Hearing it, she winced and tried again; this time reaching out to lightly touch his sleeve. "Angel, whatever it is, we can handle it...if we handle it together."
He looked down at her, the tears shining in his brown eyes scaring her even more than his voice had a moment earlier.
"If what I think is going to happen...happens," he said slowly, "then we can't handle it together. I'll do my part...and you'll do yours."
Buffy shouted down the fear roiling inside of her at his lost little-boy tone. He was scared...Angel was never scared...no, that didn't matter; he was scared and she would fix it. He needed her to fix it.
He needed her.
"What is going to happen? Tell me. Please."
"I didn't tell you last night, but there was a reason why I wasn't afraid to get involved with Cordy."
Cordy. Great, his crisis involved Cordelia. Buffy wasn't sure whether to be relieved or jealous.
"I...care for her," he said, the words that would separate him from his beloved slowly being dragged from his soul. "She's my friend, and she's good to me, and even as much as I'm crazy in love with you," he smiled sadly at Buffy, "I'm not so dead that I can't see she's a hottie. But...I always knew my soul was safe with her. No matter what we did...no matter whether the Powers had truly erased the clause in my curse or not...I knew she could never make me perfectly happy."
"And this is a bad thing because?"
Angel looked away again, staring down at his hands now tightly clenched on the countertop. With visible effort he relaxed his fists, spreading the fingers flat out on the Formica. Against the expanse of gleaming white, his hands looked paler still, and strangely defenseless.
"This morning I woke up first," he said, in a distant voice. "I looked over at you, and at Connor, and it was...all my dreams made flesh. The three of us together...sharing a life." Angel shook his head and blinked back his tears; time was running out and he had to get through this before anything happened. "It was...perfect."
"And we're still on the 'huh?' portion of the big bad story arc."
"Buffy, there haven't been that many times when I've felt that way...not enough for me to mistake it for anything else."
Buffy's hand reflexively gripped his sleeve, her Slayer strength leaving marks on the arm beneath that would be sure to bruise...if he was around long enough for them to form.
He'd never wished for injuries so hard in his two-and-a-half centuries of existence.
"Perfect," she breathed, comprehension flooding her shattered gaze. "As in...perfect happiness?"
He nodded.
Buffy closed her eyes and leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder. Angel's arms came up automatically to pull her close, though he kept his clasp on her unusually loose.
The better to release her, she realized, almost gagging at the thought.
"Why didn't you tell me right away?" she whispered, turning her face into his chest as her arms slipped around his waist. He might be holding her loosely, but she intended to hang on with all her might.
The shoulder under her cheek moved in a helpless shrug. "I'm not sure if it will...if I will change, and I wanted you to enjoy the morning. After all you've been through...and all that you'll have to go through if...if it does...I wanted you to have a little time free of it before we had to face reality."
"But Dawn's spell..."
"Was a protection spell," he finished for her. "You know they usually don't last beyond the specific conditions for which they were cast. In our case, it was that one night."
She lifted her face from his chest, eyes blazing with determination. "We'll call Willow at the dorms," she said. "Dawn said she decided to stay on campus last night studying for mid-terms, but I know where she would have crashed. We'll call her right now and she can stop at the Magic Box for an Orb of Thesala on the way home and..."
"You said she gave up magick."
Buffy made an impatient sound in the back of her throat. "That doesn't matter now. And if it does, we can..." she threw up her hands, "We can ask Tara to do it. I don't care who does it as long as you're safe."
Angel shook his head, his lips twisting in a ghastly parody of a smile. "Sorry, no sale," he said hoarsely. "I've had my soul restored twice already; if it doesn't stick this time I'm not going to try another patch job."
She pushed off of his chest, forcing him a few steps backwards. "What did you say?" she asked, not believing her ears. "What happened to Mr. I- Wasn't-Trying-To-Lose-My-Soul?"
"I wasn't. I wouldn't. But if..." he shook his head, "if I lost it because of something as simple as waking up with you and Connor beside me...I can't be trusted with it."
She searched her mind for arguments, giving voice to one that broke her heart. But if that was what it took, she would do it and gladly.
"It's me," she said quickly. "You were fine with Connor before you came here...and we both know I'm the only one who's ever made that soul of yours run for cover...so it's me. I just have to stay away from you. Forever this time."
With that in mind she began to slide away from him, the kitchen counter digging into the small of her back in a feeble approximation of the pain tearing at her soul. Angel caught her arm before she got very far, but not even his gentle touch could soothe her when she saw what he pulled out of the kitchen drawer with his other hand.
A stake.
She shook her head frantically, closing her eyes to the deadly piece of wood clutched between his long fingers.
"No, I won't," she whispered. "You can't make me. I won't...I can't...do it."
"No, you won't," he agreed. "I will."
Her eyes flew open, meeting his in complete shock. "You can't!"
"I don't have a choice this time."
"Yes you do," she insisted. "I told what the solution was; now you just have to make your mind up to do it." She aimed her last desperate blow. "Or are you too much of a coward?"
"Nice try." He smiled gently, shaking his head in unwilling refute. "I can't risk it, Buffy, for your sake and for Connor's. You're right; you are my definition of perfect happiness. But someday I may not be so selfish...someday it may be enough to know that Connor has a future with the woman he loves. It might even be enough to know that you have a future with someone you..." he paused, and then let out a quick gasping chuckle.
"No, actually I don't think I'll ever be that unselfish," he admitted, the pain in his dark eyes robbing his comment of any of the resignation he was trying so hard to project.
"You can't just give up; it's not right. It's..." Buffy fumbled for the right word, "it's despair; that's what it is," she finished triumphantly. "You said that was wrong, and I was wrong to give into it."
"I never said that," he protested.
"Now it's your turn to fight it," she continued, as though he had never spoken. "And you even have me to help you. I have chains to keep you safe until help arrives, and then...if we need to...we'll find a way to crazy glue that curse in place if it takes every spell and potion in the Magic Box."
"Buffy..."
She yanked her arm out of his grasp and glared at him. "It's decided. If I have to beat the stuffing out of you to keep you from killing yourself, I will. Connor needs you and so do I, dammit." Her hand curled into a fist, pounding on his unyielding chest in protest. "I deserve at least one thing in my life working out the way I planned, and you are so not going to mess it up for me, mister."
She was wrong and he knew it. But Angel also knew there would be no reasoning with her now. Buffy had forgotten the horrors Angelus could wreak on the innocent, and no words he could use would convince her that they couldn't risk a return of his alter ego. After a long, hard look into her hazel eyes, he gave a sharp nod of assent.
"Okay, we'll wait."
"Knew you'd see it my way," she answered, carefully pretending not to notice he had given no promises of what he would do when the waiting was done.
* * * * *
To Be Continued
Part 4
By Gem
They had only taken a few steps into the hallway when Dawn came flying out of the kitchen and skidded to a halt just inches away from Buffy.
"You're home," the teenager said breathlessly. Her gaze flicked backed and forth between her sister and her sister's former lover. "Both of you," she added, a sly smile lighting her thin face.
"Is Connor okay?" Angel asked. "Did he fall asleep yet?" He glanced into the darkened living room and down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he could see no signs of his offspring.
Dawn snorted at his obvious concern, and even more apparent lack of common sense. "He conked out ages ago. I put him in Buffy's room." Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. "You're not going to wake him up now, are you, just so you can leave?"
"No, actually Angel, that is Angel and Connor, are going to be staying a few days," Buffy said. "Staying here. With us." She could feel the blush beginning to color her cheeks as she stammered, and she didn't dare look at Angel to see how he was holding up.
Dawn beamed like a fond parent at a child displaying an unexpected talent. "That's so great. I mean I knew Angel would have to come back to pick up Connor, but I was kind of hoping you guys would work things out and then we'd could all be," she shrugged, her smile suddenly becoming hesitant, "you know, like one big happy family."
"Dawnie," Buffy said hastily, "we still have a lot of things to work out. Through. Whatever. Angel's not moving in or anything, we're just...getting back on track. Slowly," she added as a final warning.
"I don't care what you say; I just like seeing you look happy again," Dawn said stoutly. "Real Buffy happy, not the 'bot version you do when you think anyone is watching you. I always thought it must hurt your face to force it to smile that much when it didn't want to."'
Buffy leaned over and gave her sister a big hug, whispering into Dawn's ear, "You have no idea."
"So Connor went down okay?" Angel took a few quick steps towards the staircase, anxiously glancing up it before he turned back to the Summers sisters. "I should probably go check on him."
"I just looked in there, like, five minutes ago, but if you don't trust the babysitter..." Dawn trailed off suggestively, sharing a grin with Buffy.
"It's not that." Angel looked stricken. "I trust you, Dawn. I just wanted to make sure, umm, that you...umm." His jaw reflexively clenched as he scrambled for an excuse, and tried to ignore Buffy's giggle. "Did you change him first? Before you put him down, I mean. Because I brought lots of spare diapers but he goes through..."
Dawn held up her hands to ward off Angel's questions. "I changed him, and I even remembered to burp him again...and then he remembered to throw up half the bottle Buffy gave him." She tapped her foot several times for emphasis. "All over my new sweater."
Angel grinned, feeling something tight within him relax at the sheer normality of the conversation. "Yeah, forgot to warn you about that. He's good for two or three pats, but anything more and..."
"Hello Pompeii," Dawn finished gloomily. "I noticed."
"It washes out, but I'll buy you a new sweater anyway," Angel promised. He looked quickly at Buffy, his brow furrowing as a new concern surfaced. "I just realized something; I only had one other outfit for him in that bag. If we're staying a few days, we're both going to need more clothes."
Buffy gave herself a moment to enjoy the image that popped into her head when Angel mentioned a lack of clothing, but all too soon she was forced to rejoin the world of responsible adulthood. Delightful as the idea was, it would hardly be the thing to reenact the Garden of Paradise with her teenage sister in the house. Besides, there were some aspects of Angel that Buffy preferred to keep a mystery.
To everyone but her, that is.
"I'll go get him some things tomorrow," she promised, temporarily shelving her libido. "You too. I have to go out for a little while anyway because I need to stop by work and tell them I won't be stopping by anymore. As of tomorrow, Buffy is out of the burger biz."
Dawn looked at her quizzically. "But I didn't think you'd found a new job yet."
"I haven't." Buffy glanced over at Angel and smiled. "But sometimes you just have to leap first and trust that you'll land on your feet on the other side."
"That's so sweet." Dawn sighed happily. "In a weird 'Evil Knevil jumps the hellmouth' sort of way."
"Go to bed, Dawn." Buffy's smile hadn't faded in the slightest, but she had definitely returned from Planet Romance.
"Am I going to be missing anything interesting?" her younger sister asked hopefully.
"Only your social life for the next week if you don't go to bed this minute."
Dawn turned on her heel, grumbling, "What social life?" as she marched up the steps.
Buffy waited until Dawn had rounded the corner at the top of the stairs before she turned her attention back to Angel.
"Okay, the phone is all yours, and I'll even leave you alone to make the call." She paused, desperately trying to appear casual as she added, "Unless you'd like me here for, you know, moral support or something. Because I'd be happy to stay."
Angel grinned in spite of himself. "I'm sure you would...but I'll be fine on my own. They won't bite. Laugh, maybe...probably...," he sighed, "but they can't bite over the phone."
Still she hesitated. "I...I can go check on Connor for you...if you're sure..."
He didn't say anything this time, just cocked his head and smiled at her. She took the hint and left him alone to face his demons, otherwise known as his best friends.
* * * * *
The phone rang four times before anyone at the Hyperion picked it up, and then Angel wasn't expecting the voice he heard.
"Angel Investigations," Lorne purred. "Just how big of a guardian angel are you looking for tonight?"
Angel sighed; this was why Lorne wasn't supposed to be answering the phone. "Lorne," the vampire said patiently, "we've been over the way to answer the office calls. I don't want any more clients scared off thinking it's a 900 number they hit by accident."
"Angel-cakes, you have to learn to relax a little. Have some fun with your holy mission."
"Lorne, can I..."
"Now, why the jingle to jangle my chain? Haven't you hit the lonesome highway yet?"
"I'm trying to tell..." Angel frowned at the receiver. "Have you been watching westerns with Fred again? Wait, never mind; it doesn't matter." He sighed, collecting the thoughts scattered as only Lorne knew how to do. "I'm not coming back tonight; that's why I'm calling. We're going to be staying a few more days in Sunnydale."
"You're staying in Sunnydale? For days, maybe even enough to fill a week?"
"Maybe," Angel answered cautiously. Lorne's voice had suddenly gained in both volume and dramatic intensity, usually a good indicator of trouble in River City. And what was that noise in the background?
"Lorne, what was that noise?"
There was another noise on the LA end of the line, a muffled hissing sound this time, as though someone was being hushed. Then Lorne was back, asking brightly, "What noise?"
"It sounded like...," Angel concentrated, trying to mentally reproduce the first questionable sound. "Like someone shouting 'yes' or 'yay.' Something like that."
"Oh that noise. It was...it, uh, was. Gunn is, umm, watching a porno movie...you know these kids and pay-per-view...or maybe it's from one of those wannabe cable networks; they're almost as bad these days with the down and dirty. Anyway, they just got to the part where..."
"Forget it," Angel said quickly. "I don't want to hear it."
Lorne's chuckle was hastily turned into a cough, partially covering the sound of hurried footsteps in the background. "So, Sunnydale, huh? Can't tear yourself away?"
Angel pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment and treated it to a suspicious frown; something strange was going on at the hotel and he couldn't figure out why Lorne was hiding it from him.
"Why are you shouting? Who's there with you besides Gunn? And what was that...slapping noise?" He closed his eyes. "Or don't I want to know?"
"You don't want to know," Lorne speedily assured him. "Hey, how's the little guy taking it all in? And how's the little lady taking in the little guy?"
"They have names, Lorne. And they're getting along fine, if you must know."
"I must, I must."
"You're shouting again; who are you talking to?" Angel strained his ears, trying to be sure of the sounds this time. "And why do I hear...is that a champagne cork? And glasses; I'm sure I heard glasses clinking."
"Would we have champers without you? Your glass is always so nice and rosy with that little O-pos chaser; it really adds a festive touch. No, no, that was...gunfire. And breaking windows. This is LA, after all."
Angel sighed as he rubbed the tight line of clenched muscle forming between his brows; Lorne was a good and loyal friend, but there were times he could have given the Headless Horseman a migraine.
"So you...and Gunn. are just sitting around the office watching porno films while someone is firing bullets through the glass in the lobby doors...have I got the situation right?"
Lorne sniffed loudly, outraged dignity vibrating through his vocal cords right down into the phone lines. "I know you said no parties, but this is just family."
It wasn't worth the bother; Angel decided to face the damage, and pay the bills for it, when he got back. Tonight he had other things on his mind.
"You know...just forget I asked. Listen, I really called to talk with...well, with Cordelia. Is she there?"
"Sure thing; who do you think made the popcorn for movie night?"
"Popcorn and champagne; gee, I miss all the fun." The vampire's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh wait, that wasn't champagne, was it? It was popcorn and gunfire. My mistake."
"Is it my fault you don't know how to party? We're just having a little fun; we're fine."
Fine, they were fine; Angel clung to that fact even as he questioned Lorne's precise definition of the word. They were, and would, survive without him. It felt a little lonely, but also strangely liberating; there were others who needed him now.
"Good; I'm glad to hear it," he said sincerely. "Now if you could just get Cordy..."
"No sooner said, my friend."
There was a brief moment of silence before Angel heard the voice of the person he'd really been trying to reach.
"Angel? It's Cordelia."
* * * * *
Buffy hovered indecisively between the open doorway to her bedroom and the top of the stairs. She could hear Angel talking, his voice occasionally rising in query, and then falling as the questions posed were obviously answered. She wanted to get close enough to hear; she wanted to know what he was saying to Cordelia, but he had made it pretty clear he wanted to do this alone. Which was good, she told herself; which made sense. Except it meant that Buffy had no idea what was going on.
Just because Cordy didn't want him didn't mean she really wanted him back with Buffy; the Slayer didn't buy that much of a Chase-reformation. Even as Buffy waited for Angel to join her upstairs, Cordelia could be talking him into going back to LA immediately. Buffy couldn't let that happen; she just couldn't. There were limits to how many times a person could give up her dreams and not shatter, and Buffy had passed that point with Angel about two good-byes ago. She started for the staircase, intent on fighting for her man.
And then she heard him say Cordelia's name...worse, Cordelia's nickname...and she realized she couldn't stop any of this. Events had spun out of her control long ago, and having said her piece to Angel, all she could do now was wait. And hope.
And plan very painful tortures for anyone who tried to screw things up this time, herself included.
* * * * *
"Cordy," he said softly. "Hi. It's, umm, well you know who it is, don't you?"
"Yeah, which would probably be why I said 'Angel' instead of 'This is Cordelia Chase, actress extraordinaire. I'm ready for my close-up'. Have you been drinking or something?"
He laughed self-consciously. Why was this so hard? This was Cordelia, his friend Cordelia; she would understand. Hell, she understood before he did.
"No, I, uh, just...I guess I just drifted off for a second. I, umm, didn't hear what you said."
Cordelia's theatrical sigh flowed effectively along the lengths of fiber optic cable. "Very flattering, Angel. I'm sure Buffy will really appreciate it when you try that line on her."
"Umm, yeah, that's kind of why I'm calling," he said awkwardly. "About Buffy, I mean...and me."
"As in, you're back together...like you were ever really apart...and you're not quite sure how to rescind that earlier offer of undying devotion you made to me."
Ouch. There were times it hurt to have friends who knew how your mind, and guilt complexes, worked.
"That, uh, that would be the problem, yes." He drummed his fingers on the desk, stalling for time while he looked deep within himself for the right words, or any words at all, to explain the situation. "Listen, I feel really badly about...earlier. About the things I said...and the things I couldn't say...and I just really don't want this to mess anything up."
Angel gritted his teeth, waiting for the well-deserved recriminations that would follow.
"The only thing it might have messed up was between you and Buffy, and it sounds like it didn't. So we're good."
She wasn't mad, though he wasn't quite sure why not. After the way he'd embarrassed them both, he wouldn't have blamed Cordelia for calling in a priest to consecrate his showerhead; he almost expected it. Angel breathed a quick sigh of relief; it had all been so simple.
His eyes narrowed; it had been a little too simple.
"Cordelia," he said slowly, "why are you letting me off the hook so easily?"
"Oh I'm prepared to be very forgiving," she answered sweetly, "in return for one thing."
Now he was getting somewhere. His muscles began to relax even as his mind feverishly sorted through the myriad of possible bribes he would be required to cough up. Somehow he didn't think a new wardrobe would cover it this time, for all that Cordelia approved of his sense of style.
"I'm not in charge of the raises anymore, but I'll see what I can do with Wes," he promised, opting for the most likely fine.
"Okay, make that two things. No, what I actually meant was a certain little phrase that I'm not hearing...that I really think you owe me...that I promise only to hold over your head for the next thirty or forty...maybe fifty...years, which, you know, is just a drop in the bucket for you, so..."
Of course, the stiffest fine of all. Not that he hadn't intended to say it anyway.
"Cordelia," he interrupted her, "I was wrong."
"And he gets it in one," she said happily. "Now do you mind if I put you on speaker phone so I can have witnesses? I'm also thinking of calling in a notary, if you can hang on the line for a few minutes..."
"I was wrong and I'm sorry."
"Ooo, two for the price of one; I like this game."
"And thank you," he finished quietly.
The teasing note abruptly vanished from her voice. "You're welcome. I'm just glad somebody's going to get a happy ending around here."
Angel glanced up the staircase, picturing Buffy tucking Connor in; watching his little chest rise and fall as Angel had done every night since his birth. A happy ending. Yeah, he was already well on his way to one.
"I am sorry about Groo," he said sincerely, "but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if something is meant to be, it will be. I'm living proof."
"Hah!"
"Okay, so non-living but remarkably lifelike proof."
"I suppose I can try to take that the way you meant it, instead of the kind of creepy way it sounded." She yawned loudly in his ear. "Listen, it's late, and you probably have...things...you want to do. I'm gonna go."
Angel briefly considered explaining the reality of his immediate future with Buffy, but he quickly decided there were some things he would like to try to keep private this time, at least for a little while.
"Good...oh, wait. Could you just answer me one question?"
He could hear a deep sigh at the other end of the line.
"Okay, I guess you deserve it."
"Deserve..."
"The answer is yes; if you had asked me a few weeks from now, when I really knew Groo wasn't coming back...maybe, just maybe, I would have answered differently. Are you happy now?"
Angel could feel a momentary panic seize his gut; oh god, he'd come even closer to disaster than he'd thought. If he'd waited, as he wanted to, instead of following Lorne's advice...he shuddered at the thought.
"That wasn't what I...I mean thanks, but I actually didn't need to know..."
"Oh," she said flatly. "Well, if you weren't going to ask...then I never answered."
"Umm, sure," he agreed uneasily. "Listen, I really just wanted to know what was going on there. I heard all these weird noises and Lorne...he wasn't making much sense."
Or maybe he had been making a little too much. Bits and pieces of the past few days...even months...began to coalesce in Angel's mind, glued together by Cordelia's subsequent answer.
"Well Fred's doing some sort of, umm, Pylean mating dance, I guess; she's hammering out the 'rumption' riff at any rate. And Gunn is playing keep- away with Lorne's champagne bottle. Wesley went home early."
Angel couldn't help but smile as he pictured them creating complete chaos in what once would have been his orderly retreat from humanity. But to realize what lengths they must have gone to, just because he had been too afraid to risk his heart again...it was more than a little embarrassing.
"Thanks, Cordy; that, uh, explains a lot. I'll see you in a few days, unless something big comes up; you know how to reach me if it does." He started to hang up, but paused to leave one final message. "Oh and Cor, could you thank Lorne for me? He'll...he'll know why."
He gently put the receiver down into the cradle, and let his head fall onto his folded arms. From above him, he heard Buffy's quiet footsteps coming down the staircase.
"I have never been so humiliated in my life," he groaned.
Buffy hurried down the rest of the steps and slipped her arm around his shoulders. She rested her head next to his on the desk, trying to direct her voice under his folded arms.
"Oh Angel, trust me; you're going to be humiliated a lot worse than this." She felt his arm stiffen beneath her hand and hastened to explain. "Don't forget, I've seen you with that little boy upstairs. I just know what kind of a dad you're going to be. The first tooth he loses...you'll cry. And the first fall from his bike? Definite emergency room trip."
"You're not helping," he grumbled, still hiding his face.
Buffy stood up and tugged at his arm, slowly dragging him off of the seat.
"Come on," she coaxed. "We'll go upstairs, and you'll see Connor all tucked up in the little bed Dawn made for him in my Slayer trunk, and you'll forget all about the fifty shades of red you'd be turning if you could turn even one."
* * * * *
They crept into Buffy's bedroom, stepping over the myriad of weapons Dawn had scattered on the floor when she cleared out a sleeping space for Connor. To add to the challenge of the obstacle course, Dawn had turned out all the lights except for the little desk light; its faint glow barely illuminated the open trunk pulled over to the foot of the bed.
"Doesn't he look adorable?" Buffy whispered as they knelt down next to the trunk and peered at the small figure sleeping peacefully on the pillow stuffed inside. "When I first saw him in there I was wishing we still had Dawn's old doll crib, or at least something a little nicer to put him in. But then I thought...this is the first time I've liked having this trunk here. It's the first time it's been used just for something...good."
Angel reached out and gently touched his son's warm cheek; beside him Buffy stretched out her hand to twitch the blankets over a small exposed foot. It was such a small domestic moment, but it was everything Angel had dreamed of since he had learned he was going to be a father. The reality, however, was so much more than he had ever expected. To finally be in this moment in time almost frightened him.
"Angel," Buffy said softly, turning her face towards him, "Stay with me tonight."
He had spent so long running from this life because he believed it could never be; now that it was his for the taking he almost backed away out of sheer habit. But he didn't have to walk away anymore; this was his life, whether he deserved it or not.
"Are you sure?" he asked gravely. "You know we can't let anything happen...not yet."
She nodded. "I know. And I'm not saying I won't be tempted," she leaned over and brushed a kiss across his cheek, "but I don't think I could call it 'settling' if I get to fall asleep in your arms and wake up the same way. We've never done that before."
They hadn't, not even on their lost day, and it was something Angel had always regretted. Something he thought he would be forced to regret until the end of time.
Angel gave Connor's little face one last caress before he stood up. Buffy stood up with him, taking his hand firmly in hers and leading him over to the bed.
They kicked off their shoes and then sat down side by side on the bed, hands still clasped. Angel watched Buffy's face carefully as he slid back on the bed, towards the other side. She smiled softly at him as she followed, and molded herself to the curve of his body with a contented sigh.
Home at last.
* * * * *
Angel woke up slowly, reluctant to surrender the comfort of his favorite dream. He wash awash in the scent of those dearest to him; he could feel two pulses vibrating against his lonely skin; he could hear the gentle, relaxed breathing of two beloved souls in utter contentment. He never wanted to wake up.
A sound dragged him from the dream; a tiny, breathy cry designed to ping the radar in any parent. His eyes opened wide, obedient if not eager, and thereupon presented him with a picture that outshone any dream.
When he and Buffy had fallen asleep she was twined around his body, and he had never wished her to be anywhere else. Now she rested almost a foot away from him, but his arm still lay trapped under the warm curve of her neck, and between them lay Connor, swaddled in his traveling blanket. One of Buffy's arms rested gently across the baby's legs, the other curled beneath his tiny head, cradling him in the protective circle created by her body and Angel's.
If Angel's heart could have resumed beating, it would have stopped at this sight. This was the moment he'd waited a dozen lifetimes for, the moment he'd been born for. This was bliss in its purest form.
Pure bliss. True happiness. Even as he basked in the moment, another, far uglier thought roared from the back of his brain. This was peace, and joy and complete happiness; he had known the taste of them before, and each time his life had been ripped to shreds just hours afterwards. His life, and one much more precious to him than his own.
Now two lives hung in the balance, not including his own unworthy one.
* * * * *
Connor's dark eyes blinked open, regarding his father with the same unwavering trust he had exhibited since the moment of his birth. It was a faith Angel had always found daunting, but now it was truly terrifying.
Not now, the vampire whispered silently. Please not now, after how far we've come.
Buffy began to stir, her slight body tightening and then relaxing in an enormous stretch as she slowly opened her eyes.
"Mmm, I think I must be back in heaven," she murmured, sliding her fingers across Connor's legs to tug on the edge of Angel's shirt.
For the first time since her return, there was no trace of regret in Buffy's memories of heaven. Whatever waited for her on the other side, it could hold no weight against the joy of waking up next to Angel. Add in one small child, who had inexplicably stolen her heart from the instant she first laid eyes on him, and she was somewhere far beyond her expectations, or remembrances, of heavenly reward.
"Angel?" She smiled sleepily at him. "What's the deep thought for the day? You look like you're composing a lu-lu."
Angel forced away his panic, shoving it to the back of his brain for later. He wasn't sure of the precise timing, but if something was going to happen...please make it 'if' and not 'when'...it wouldn't be for at least an hour, probably two. The last time he'd had a chance to savor his gift, time to believe it was his forever, and time to relax into sleep secure in that belief. He had to believe he would be granted at least that much time today; enough time to let Buffy enjoy this moment of awakening the way she deserved to enjoy it. Later...if anything did happen later...they would handle it.
No, he would handle it, in the only way left to him.
All he needed was a sharp stick and a moment alone. There was no other way, if simply waking up with the two people he loved tipped the balance. There were too many moments that waited for him like false bottoms in a magician's trunk; too many tedious, repetitive, beautiful everyday moments that could snap his fragile grasp on humanity before he could stop it.
"I was wondering how can you look so beautiful when you just woke up," he murmured, reaching out to caress a stray lock of blonde hair that trailed across her cheek. If these were to be his last moments, he wanted to revel in them, and he wanted Buffy to know that he had.
She brushed a hand self-consciously through her sleep-mussed hair. "Try how can you manage to say the right thing when you're no more awake than I am," she grumbled good-naturedly, pretending to nip at his fingers as they lingered on her cheek. "That's the real mystery."
"You inspire me."
Connor's small hand reached up to grab Angel's arm, effectively reminding them both of their audience. Buffy laughed and hugged the baby, rubbing her chin on the downy wisps of his dark hair as she smiled over his head at Connor's father.
"Guess maybe it was a good idea to have him in the bed with us after all," she teased. "It's kind of hard to get carried away when you'd have to carry me over him."
"How did he end up here anyway? Not that I'm complaining," he hastened to add, "but even as gifted as he is, he's not ready for walking just yet. Next week maybe."
Buffy smiled at the note of pride in Angel's voice when he talked about his son. He might try to shrug it off, but she could see the near awe with which he beheld Connor.
"I got up to check the shades around dawn. He wasn't fussing or anything, but he...he smiled at me." She shrugged as a slight blush stained her cheeks. "I thought finding him with us would be a nice surprise when you woke up."
"It was," he quickly reassured her. "It was...the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Thank you."
She felt a peculiar frisson of unease flicker down her spine at the intensity of his answer, but it was banished almost immediately when he returned the conversation to the more mundane.
"There is, however," Angel sniffed the air and grinned, "the diaper issue. As in, he usually needs a new one first thing every morning."
Buffy's arms automatically loosened around Connor's back as she gazed down at him in comic dismay.
"Eww...now that's an alarm clock I could do without."
Connor's toothless smile softened Buffy's squeamish heart, however, and she shifted her elbow to help her sit up with him still in her arms.
"Okay, little man, what do you say Daddy changes your diaper while Aunt..." her voice trailed off as she glanced at Angel. "While I," she firmly continued a moment later, "go down to the kitchen and whip you up a nice fresh bottle of formula?"
Alone. She wanted to leave him alone with Connor. Angel sat up abruptly, reaching out to stop her before he had even decided what to say.
"Buffy, wait," he said urgently. "I can't...I can't let you do that." Calm; he had to remain calm. She needed to know, but not yet. Until the time was right, he had to play it cool.
"Excuse me?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"I, uh, can't possibly deprive you of the experience of changing a diaper on a wiggling baby when you're still half-asleep." His voice acquired a wheedling note. "Besides, if I go downstairs first I can make breakfast for all of us. I'm not a half-bad cook...especially when you consider I can't really even appreciate my own creations."
He had an enticing hint of the 'bad boy' aura in his smile, strangely all the more alluring to her for its domestic source. Buffy pursed her lips, shifting her gaze from Angel to Connor, and then back to Angel. In the end, she was no match for the two sets of melting brown eyes that silently pleaded with her.
"Okay," she sighed. "I guess I need to figure out this diaper stuff anyway...though if Dawn can do it using just what a bunch of monks planted in her head, I ought to be able to do it with one hand tied behind my back and a crossbow in the other." She tilted her head to the side. "Actually, that might be an interesting drill some time. And you can bet it's one the Watcher's Council never thought of."
Angel slipped of the bed quickly, unobtrusively palming a stake as he put on his shoes. Dawn's careless emptying of Buffy's Slayer trunk the night before had at least one useful aspect: weapons were, sadly, all-too readily available.
"Use two hands," he advised, sliding the stake up his sleeve before he headed for the door. "One of them needs to keep a diaper over him at all times. Otherwise, you're going to be taking one more shower than you planned on today."
She tilted her head to the side and frowned, puzzling out his last comment as she listened to the echo of his footsteps on the stairs. It took Connor's cooing to draw her attention back to the task at hand.
"Hmm, now what do you suppose he meant by that, little man?"
* * * * *
Angel was strangely preoccupied when Buffy, Dawn and Connor joined him in the kitchen. He was obviously trying to stay with the conversation, but his responses were all a beat too late, his laughs a little too forced. Buffy could sense something was wrong the moment she walked into the room, but she couldn't subject Dawn to another scene, let alone poor Connor. So the Slayer bided her time, obediently consuming the abundant, and surprisingly tasty, breakfast Angel set before her, watching while he showed Dawn how to prepare Connor's bottle and feed the baby, and waiting for the right moment to pounce.
The moment came when Dawn pushed back her chair and started to leave the kitchen, alone.
"Dawn," Angel said anxiously, "where are you going? Don't you want to take Connor with you?"
Dawn looked puzzled, almost as much as Buffy felt.
"Well, I was going to take a shower," she said slowly, glancing at her sister with unspoken questions in her eyes. "I sort of figured he'd stay with you guys."
"Actually I'd, umm, appreciate it if you bring him back to Buffy's room for a little nap." Angel stood up stiffly and began clearing the table, snatching at the dishes with little regard for the fragility.
"But he just got up," Dawn protested.
"He's still a little tired. Look, if it's that big of an imposition I can do it." Angel set the plates on the counter with unwitting force, causing one to crack with an audible snap. "I just thought since you seemed so eager to help last night that..."
She held up her hands. "No, hey, I can help."
Dawn leaned down to free Connor from the car seat where she'd set him down after burping him, but Angel beat her to it. Gently he lifted the baby up to his chest, breathing in the scent and warmth of his child for what might be the last time.
"You be good," he whispered hoarsely in Connor's ear. "Remember that I love you."
Dawn shared an uneasy look with Buffy as she reached over to take Connor from his father. "Okay, well, umm, if anybody needs us we'll just be...upstairs. Again."
Buffy waited until she heard the bang of Dawn's bedroom door closing before she advanced on Angel.
"So, you want to tell me what that was about?"
He turned quickly, seeming both surprised and disconcerted to find her right by his side. His long, graceful fingers, normally so steady and sure, spasmed on the countertop and accidentally sent one of the glasses crashing into the sink.
"What what was about?"
Buffy jerked a thumb at the doorway to the hall. "That. The oh-so-subtle hand-off of your son; the same baby you could hardly bear to let Dawn touch twelve hours ago." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Not to mention, last night you were so up with people I thought we'd have to let you hand out flowers at the airport to work it off. Now we're back to Angel's House of Stylish Brood. What gives?"
Angel gulped nervously and checked his watch.
"And what's with the watch thing?" she asked, pointing at his upraised wrist. "You've been doing that since we came downstairs. Do you have a date or something?"
Fifty-eight minutes. Fifty-eight too-short minutes since the first domino had toppled. It was time to tell her the truth, now that Dawn and Connor were safely out of the way.
Now that only minutes remained in which to grieve.
"Sit down," he said quietly, stepping back and waving his hand at the kitchen chairs.
Buffy shook her head, arms still stubbornly crossed. "Talk first; then I'll decide if I can't stand up."
Angel stared unseeingly over her shoulder at the closed Venetian blinds, his mind consumed with the vision that met him upon awaking. "I don't...I don't know how to say this."
"Just say it," she said, her voice sharp from the tension building up inside of her. Hearing it, she winced and tried again; this time reaching out to lightly touch his sleeve. "Angel, whatever it is, we can handle it...if we handle it together."
He looked down at her, the tears shining in his brown eyes scaring her even more than his voice had a moment earlier.
"If what I think is going to happen...happens," he said slowly, "then we can't handle it together. I'll do my part...and you'll do yours."
Buffy shouted down the fear roiling inside of her at his lost little-boy tone. He was scared...Angel was never scared...no, that didn't matter; he was scared and she would fix it. He needed her to fix it.
He needed her.
"What is going to happen? Tell me. Please."
"I didn't tell you last night, but there was a reason why I wasn't afraid to get involved with Cordy."
Cordy. Great, his crisis involved Cordelia. Buffy wasn't sure whether to be relieved or jealous.
"I...care for her," he said, the words that would separate him from his beloved slowly being dragged from his soul. "She's my friend, and she's good to me, and even as much as I'm crazy in love with you," he smiled sadly at Buffy, "I'm not so dead that I can't see she's a hottie. But...I always knew my soul was safe with her. No matter what we did...no matter whether the Powers had truly erased the clause in my curse or not...I knew she could never make me perfectly happy."
"And this is a bad thing because?"
Angel looked away again, staring down at his hands now tightly clenched on the countertop. With visible effort he relaxed his fists, spreading the fingers flat out on the Formica. Against the expanse of gleaming white, his hands looked paler still, and strangely defenseless.
"This morning I woke up first," he said, in a distant voice. "I looked over at you, and at Connor, and it was...all my dreams made flesh. The three of us together...sharing a life." Angel shook his head and blinked back his tears; time was running out and he had to get through this before anything happened. "It was...perfect."
"And we're still on the 'huh?' portion of the big bad story arc."
"Buffy, there haven't been that many times when I've felt that way...not enough for me to mistake it for anything else."
Buffy's hand reflexively gripped his sleeve, her Slayer strength leaving marks on the arm beneath that would be sure to bruise...if he was around long enough for them to form.
He'd never wished for injuries so hard in his two-and-a-half centuries of existence.
"Perfect," she breathed, comprehension flooding her shattered gaze. "As in...perfect happiness?"
He nodded.
Buffy closed her eyes and leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder. Angel's arms came up automatically to pull her close, though he kept his clasp on her unusually loose.
The better to release her, she realized, almost gagging at the thought.
"Why didn't you tell me right away?" she whispered, turning her face into his chest as her arms slipped around his waist. He might be holding her loosely, but she intended to hang on with all her might.
The shoulder under her cheek moved in a helpless shrug. "I'm not sure if it will...if I will change, and I wanted you to enjoy the morning. After all you've been through...and all that you'll have to go through if...if it does...I wanted you to have a little time free of it before we had to face reality."
"But Dawn's spell..."
"Was a protection spell," he finished for her. "You know they usually don't last beyond the specific conditions for which they were cast. In our case, it was that one night."
She lifted her face from his chest, eyes blazing with determination. "We'll call Willow at the dorms," she said. "Dawn said she decided to stay on campus last night studying for mid-terms, but I know where she would have crashed. We'll call her right now and she can stop at the Magic Box for an Orb of Thesala on the way home and..."
"You said she gave up magick."
Buffy made an impatient sound in the back of her throat. "That doesn't matter now. And if it does, we can..." she threw up her hands, "We can ask Tara to do it. I don't care who does it as long as you're safe."
Angel shook his head, his lips twisting in a ghastly parody of a smile. "Sorry, no sale," he said hoarsely. "I've had my soul restored twice already; if it doesn't stick this time I'm not going to try another patch job."
She pushed off of his chest, forcing him a few steps backwards. "What did you say?" she asked, not believing her ears. "What happened to Mr. I- Wasn't-Trying-To-Lose-My-Soul?"
"I wasn't. I wouldn't. But if..." he shook his head, "if I lost it because of something as simple as waking up with you and Connor beside me...I can't be trusted with it."
She searched her mind for arguments, giving voice to one that broke her heart. But if that was what it took, she would do it and gladly.
"It's me," she said quickly. "You were fine with Connor before you came here...and we both know I'm the only one who's ever made that soul of yours run for cover...so it's me. I just have to stay away from you. Forever this time."
With that in mind she began to slide away from him, the kitchen counter digging into the small of her back in a feeble approximation of the pain tearing at her soul. Angel caught her arm before she got very far, but not even his gentle touch could soothe her when she saw what he pulled out of the kitchen drawer with his other hand.
A stake.
She shook her head frantically, closing her eyes to the deadly piece of wood clutched between his long fingers.
"No, I won't," she whispered. "You can't make me. I won't...I can't...do it."
"No, you won't," he agreed. "I will."
Her eyes flew open, meeting his in complete shock. "You can't!"
"I don't have a choice this time."
"Yes you do," she insisted. "I told what the solution was; now you just have to make your mind up to do it." She aimed her last desperate blow. "Or are you too much of a coward?"
"Nice try." He smiled gently, shaking his head in unwilling refute. "I can't risk it, Buffy, for your sake and for Connor's. You're right; you are my definition of perfect happiness. But someday I may not be so selfish...someday it may be enough to know that Connor has a future with the woman he loves. It might even be enough to know that you have a future with someone you..." he paused, and then let out a quick gasping chuckle.
"No, actually I don't think I'll ever be that unselfish," he admitted, the pain in his dark eyes robbing his comment of any of the resignation he was trying so hard to project.
"You can't just give up; it's not right. It's..." Buffy fumbled for the right word, "it's despair; that's what it is," she finished triumphantly. "You said that was wrong, and I was wrong to give into it."
"I never said that," he protested.
"Now it's your turn to fight it," she continued, as though he had never spoken. "And you even have me to help you. I have chains to keep you safe until help arrives, and then...if we need to...we'll find a way to crazy glue that curse in place if it takes every spell and potion in the Magic Box."
"Buffy..."
She yanked her arm out of his grasp and glared at him. "It's decided. If I have to beat the stuffing out of you to keep you from killing yourself, I will. Connor needs you and so do I, dammit." Her hand curled into a fist, pounding on his unyielding chest in protest. "I deserve at least one thing in my life working out the way I planned, and you are so not going to mess it up for me, mister."
She was wrong and he knew it. But Angel also knew there would be no reasoning with her now. Buffy had forgotten the horrors Angelus could wreak on the innocent, and no words he could use would convince her that they couldn't risk a return of his alter ego. After a long, hard look into her hazel eyes, he gave a sharp nod of assent.
"Okay, we'll wait."
"Knew you'd see it my way," she answered, carefully pretending not to notice he had given no promises of what he would do when the waiting was done.
* * * * *
To Be Continued