CHAPTER FOURTEEN
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
Behind Blue Eyes – The Who
"Home sweet home," Faith said as the GTX pulled up to the Hyperion.
Angel smiled. "I'm glad you think of it that way."
"I don't see Gunn's truck," Wesley said, glancing around the street. No signs of life could be seen.
"Damn." Angel climbed out of the car. "Is the shield still intact?"
Wesley chanted the opening spell and the shield parted. "Yes."
"It's too quiet," Faith said, sliding the knife out of her jacket. She, like the others, had restocked out of the cache in Angel's trunk.
Angel and Wes did likewise. Angel's nostrils flared. "I smell blood."
He heard his companions teeth grind as they tensed. They entered the hotel cautiously. All weapons dropped from the offensive positions as their handlers took in the scene played out around them. Blood covered the floor like a twisted reflecting pool. The walls looked like a Pollock painting in sanguine. Pieces of Fred and Gunn commingled in a pile like the cast offs of a slaughterhouse. Connor lay twined around Cordelia near the reception desk. Lorne's body rested by the weapon's cabinet but his head lay several feet away outside the pond of gore.
Angel heard Wesley gagging and Faith's breathing accelerating. He put his hands out keeping his friends behind him as he crept forward.
"The Beast's minions killed them all," Faith said. She had killed before but this was too much. She didn't even know her knees had gone out until her backside hit flooring.
"No," Angel corrected, his eyes still scanning for the enemy. "Connor's alive. I can hear him breathing."
"Fred, oh, God, Fred," Wesley murmured then raced for the front door. He didn't make it. What little was in his stomach emptied itself. He sank to all fours as the retching worked into a vicious circle he couldn't break.
Angel wanted to comfort them but he couldn't not until he knew how badly his son was hurt. Angel cautious picked his way over to where Connor lay with Cordy in his arms. He gently eased Connor away, rolling his son to his back. Connor's arm with the axe blade lashed to it flopped limply, the axe resounding as it hit the floor. That sound got Faith and Wesley's attention. Wesley managed to stop vomiting. Angel stared at his child, sinking to his knees in shock. Amidst the blood coating his face, Connor's blue eyes were wide open and staring unfocused. His breath hissed in and out of his parted lips.
"What's wrong with him? What did they do to him?" Faith asked, her voice tight. She fought to get to her feet.
"Look at his axe," Wesley said, pointing at the metal splattered with blood and bits of tissue clinging to it. "Connor did this."
"No," Angel whispered, drawing his son to his chest. Connor felt as liquid as a relaxed cat.
"No way. He came here to save Cordy," Faith argued, getting in Wes' face. "He couldn't have done this."
"Damn you, Connor." Angel stood up, taking his son with him. Connor's head flopped back like a marionette with cut strings. "What in the hell did you do?"
"Angel…he couldn't," Faith whispered.
"Answer me, Connor, what did you do?" Angel shook his son even though he knew Connor was beyond answering. His son's limbs flailed and flapped as he shook him. Rag dolls had more substance. "Why, Connor? Why?" He screamed, slapping Connor's face with one hand. Connor's head jerked back but there was no conscious reaction to the blow. "How could you do this?" Angel let Connor go. His son toppled over outside the ring of blood. Connor made no attempts to stop his fall. He didn't cry out when he hit the floor and he laid there, his legs twisted under him, the same expression on his face as when they came in. "What did you do?
"It couldn't have been him, Angel. He didn't do this," Faith insisted. She had very quickly come to like Connor. He was one of the easiest friends she had ever made. One of the few men she trusted at first sight. He couldn't have committed such horror.
"He did," a new voice said.
Faith stumbled back with a shocked cry as Lorne's eyes opened and his severed head spoke. Her hand slammed over her mouth. "Sorry. Hell, that scared me."
"Help me," Lorne demanded.
Wesley picked up the head and returned it to Lorne's body. Angel collapsed beside his son, all the anger draining out of him. He felt sick as he straightened Connor's legs out from the pretzel they were in from the fall. The desire to punish his son fled as compassion filled him. He knew the price Connor had already paid for what he did. He could see it in his child's vacant eyes. He barely noticed what Wesley was doing for Lorne. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was the fragile life in front of him. Angel stroked his son's gory face, getting no reaction beyond some blinking. "Talk to me, Connor. Please, son, say something," Angel begged but his son's completely limp condition didn't change. " You have to be in there, Connor."
"Faith, could you give me a hand helping Lorne to the couch?" Wesley asked.
Faith helped him all but drag Lorne there.
"He's gone," Angel said softly, stroking Connor's hair over and over like a cat.
"What?" Faith asked.
"He's not in there," Angel said, his voice choking up. "He's broken."
"You don't know that, Angel," Wesley said. "He could just be in shock."
Angel shook his head, his large hand still moving soothingly over Connor's stiff, gore-slicked hair. "I've destroyed more minds for fun that I care to remember. I know the look, all the signs. On her bad days, Dru would retreat into a catatonic state." Angel's head snapped up, his dark eyes settling on Lorne. "What the hell happened, Lorne? Why were you going for the weapons' cabinet?"
"Self-preservation," Lorne said angrily. He waved a hand at Connor." He was going to kill me."
"Just like that?" Angel shot his friend a disbelieving look. "No provocation? He came here to save you and Cordy. He thought the Beast had sent someone to kill you."
Lorne rubbed his neck at the newly joined junction. "I wasn't awake when he got here. That was so strange. I could barely keep my eyes open. I mean, when you guys are out on the job, I'm usually too nervous to sleep. Cordy said I probably was just stressed out and suggested I lie down. The next thing I know I hear shouting. Cordelia was saying something about being too sick to go glowy and kick Connor's ass."
"And that's when it happened?" Faith interrupted, her face wrinkling as she tried to imagine why Cordelia would think to attack Connor.
Lorne sat back, a strange expression on his face. "No. I heard Connor say something about her putting down a knife then I heard Cordelia scream and then a loud crack. I ran downstairs and found Connor kneeling over Cordelia. He was weeping and saying he didn't mean to do it."
"He pushed her too hard," Angel said, his fingers twisting in Connor's hair so hard clumps pulled free. "I warned him about remembering his strength."
Lorne's tongue snaked out, wetting his lips. "I suppose but I didn't believe it was an accident."
"It would explain why Cordelia wasn't torn apart like the rest," Wesley mumbled, heading for the reception desk, trying hard not to step in any blood. A strange calm settled on his face as he numbed himself. He reached a place where his friends' death couldn't touch him anymore. He needed that safe haven, at least until the situation was dealt with and he could handle his grief in private.
"Well, I didn't have all this evidence to make comparisons," Lorne said cattily, waving his hands at the Gunn and Fred.
"So what did you do?" Faith paced around Lorne. There was something he wasn't telling them. She could sense it and she wanted to beat it out of him, but that wouldn't help anything. "See the body and run for the weapons?"
He eyed her sourly. "No. I accused him of murder and he kept saying he didn't mean to do it. I panicked. I don't even remember what I said next. I guess I did go for the weapons and that's all I remember outside of blinding pain. I started coming to a bit and I heard him making this keening noise and I heard him chopping. I blacked out again. I don't know why he killed them, Angel, other than they had to have come in and seen me and Cordelia dead." Lorne's angry look faded into one of sorrow.
"They must have tried to attack him, too," Angel said, slipping the bracer-axe off Connor's arm. That had to be the way it happened. Connor wasn't a cold-blooded killer. Angel would never believe that.
"Or maybe he's a little monster like I warned you about when I left for Vegas and he just killed them because he could." Lorne's green lips peeled back from his teeth in a sneer.
"If he were a monster, Lorne," Angel hit the name like a lightning strike. "He would have left the bodies and run. He could have gone anywhere, shucked his clothing and told us Gunn and Fred beat him home, that the Beast's minions killed you all."
"We would have believed that," Wesley said softly, tensing as he realize he might need to get Lorne out of the room before he pushed Angel too far. "At least until we helped you. No, I'm inclined to believe that Connor snapped and that's when he attacked you, Fred and Gunn. You said Connor told you he pushed Cordelia, which is possible given what you heard about the knife. There's a blade under this desk and a fairly substantial one at that. If he pushed her and she fell and hit her head that could have sent him over the edge." Wesley pointed to the corner of the desk indicating the blood and hair caught on the edge. "Connor loved her. He'd never purposely hurt her."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Lorne sniped, wincing as he turned his neck tentatively.
"I'm sure. He loved her and he's not faking this. I don't think he'd know how," Angel said, closing Connor's eyes. The boy didn't reopen them. "What am I going to do with him?" The words tumbled out of Angel like broken glass, sharp and fragile.
"Well, if there was anything in the way of a police force left I'd say call 911." Lorne lowered his head, almost as if he were brandishing his horns.
"No," Angel whispered.
"Will they even send anyone?" Faith asked. "I know that most of the cops either left the city or got dead out there trying to help others."
"I don't think the cops would take Connor to jail, not in this condition. He'd go to a psych ward until he could stand trial, provided they could find one still functioning in L.A.," Wesley said.
"When did you get a law degree?" Lorne glared up at the former Watcher.
"I don't need to be a lawyer to know if Connor can't help in his defense, he can't be tried," Wesley said, not sure why he was coming to Connor's defense, maybe because he felt responsible. If not for him, Connor would still be an innocent baby and none of this would have happened.
"Well, we have to figure out something," Faith said, gesturing at the bodies of her fallen compatriots.
"There's not much left of the Council thanks to the First Evil," Wesley said. "But they're rebuilding. I know someone who can help. He was still alive just a few days ago when he emailed me."
"Nothing can help with this," Angel said, despondent.
"Not with what's happened but he could help Connor. Dr. Stiabhan Savage is a psychiatrist. He's worked with criminal cases and with the weirdness that goes with being a Watchers. He's a Watcher Special Ops," Wesley explained. "You've met his partner Dr. Maddoc a few years ago."
"So you're going to let him get away with murdering three people?" Lorne snarled.
"Does it look like he's gotten away with anything?" Angel asked as Connor's eyes opened, staring back up at the ceiling. "Dru's been insane for over a century. This could be as good as it gets for my son for the rest of his life, imprisoned in his own mind."
"They were your friends. They deserve better than a cover up," Lorne argued, trying to get off the couch. His body, still shocky, refused to comply.
"They're more than friends. I was in love with Fred," Wesley said, his blue eyes hot as acetylene. "Do you think Angel doesn't care deeply for Cordelia?"
"I owe my son something, Lorne. I've failed him completely. Before, Holtz took him and after he came back, I threw him out into the streets and left him to fend for himself in a world he couldn't possibly understand. If I could take the blame and go to jail for him, I would. I love him that much and I know in my heart he never meant this. I would shoulder this for him."
"He tried to kill you, Angel. What were you suppose to do? Thank him?" Lorne slapped a couch pillow.
"I could have done more than I did." Angel got to his feet. "Wesley, you think this doctor would help Connor?"
"I'll call him," Wesley said.
"Lorne, Faith, I can't make this work without your help. I have to know what you're going to do," Angel said.
"We don't know what really happened here or why Cordy threatened Connor in the first place. I can't believe he came here to do murder. These three have been going out of their way to antagonize Connor and I'm not sure he believes there are good demons, Lorne." Faith paused. She went closer to Gunn's gory remains. She pointed with a toe to the swords on the floor. "Gunn and Fred had weapons in hand. I can see them going over the top when they found Cordy dead. I can only imagine how Connor'd react to being attacked." She dragged a hand through her hair roughly. "I'm not trying to blame them or anything but if he can be helped I say we do it. You did that much for me, Angel and I murdered because I could without much remorse. Having been through both I'm all for rehabilitation over incarceration."
Lorne shook his head. "I won't help you, Angel but I won't stop you either. Do this without me."
"Fair enough. Will you help with the arrangements for their funerals, at least? I'm not sure if Gunn has any family left but Cordy and Fred's parents will need to be told," Angel said, cautiously approaching Lorne. He didn't want to pressure his friend but he wanted Lorne close until he was sure of what the demon would do.
"I'll help with that but what are you planning on telling them?" Lorne asked.
"The weird stuff happening here is on the news all over the world. What have they been blaming all these demon attacks on? Fear-maddened mobs?" Faith asked.
"I'll give the police their killer," Angel said with grim determination. "What do I do with Connor now?"
"We have to get him cleaned up some place the police won't check the drains for blood evidence. I'll take him to Lilah's. I didn't give back my key. She took me seriously when I said go underground. She's been gone ever since the Beast killed everyone at Wolfram and Hart," Wesley replied.
"What if Connor wakes up out of his stupor? You don't stand a chance against him," Lorne said.
"A calculated risk. I don't believe Connor will recover any time soon. I'm more worried as to how profound Connor's catatonia is. He may not be able to stand or help himself in any way and given he's not moved more than his eyelids since we arrived I fear the worst," Wesley said.
Angel lifted Connor in his arms. He tipped his son until his feet touched ground. "Can you stand for me, son? Just stand," Angel said, letting Connor go. He wobbled but didn't topple. "Can you go with Wesley? He's going to help you."
Connor made no effort to move. Wesley took his tacky, bloody hand and gently
led him away from the carnage. Connor followed meekly.
"Do you want me to go with them in case Connor does come out of this?" Faith asked.
"Yes," Angel said. "Lorne, do you have somewhere to go? I don't know how to explain you to the police."
"There's a place or two."
"If you're up to driving, Lorne, take my Suvie," Wesley said. "I guess Connor and I can go through the sewers to Lilah's. I couldn't risk taking him in my vehicle anyway, not as blood drenched as he is."
"Too dangerous right now to walk," Faith said. "There are plenty of cars in the street. I can hotwire one for you."
Angel watched Lorne and Faith head out to the vehicles then looked back at what his son had done. He'd be breathless and shaking if he breathed at all. How could things have gone this wrong?
Faith came back in soon enough and looked at Wesley. "It's the white Civic down the block, nice and non-descript. Let's go."
"Faith, wait. I need to speak to you. I'm not sure how much Connor can understand but it's better he doesn't hear," Angel decided even though he couldn't fathom what he was shielding his son from. "You stay with him, Wes."
"Of course."
Angel headed for the kitchen with Faith. Wordlessly he filled a glass then nearly dropped it on the counter. He leaned against it, trembling. He felt Faith's hands sliding around him. He turned to face her, feeling his strength melt away like snow on a warm day. "Am I doing the right thing, Faith?"
"I think you're doing the only thing you can do. It's this or Connor spends the rest of his life in jail or a mental hospital." She embraced him tightly, resting her head against his chest.
"I know. You'll have to fill in Wesley for me as to my plan."
"Which is?"
Angel took a deep, unnecessary breath and laid it all out for Faith.
"That could work," Faith said when he was done.
"I know. If there's an investigation I don't want the police to know Connor even exists and I don't want them to be able trace me either. We have to get all the photos of Connor and me out of here. I don't want some sharp-eyed cop seeing one and start pressing into who we are. I don't think there's actually any of Connor as an adult and maybe none of me either but I'm not sure what Cordelia might have had."
"We'll double-check with Wesley."
"If I had done more for Connor…"
"Shhh, Angel, there's no sense in wondering what might have been. It's done. You can't undo it," Faith murmured, holding on even more forcefully.
Angel folded his arms around her, silent tears streaking down his face. It didn't seem that long ago he was the one holding her, letting her pour out her pain. There was no bottom to this well of anguish. All he could do was not let it drown them both.
* * *
Angel lifted his shirt from the pool of blood and put it on. It felt tacky against his cold skin and the scent was making his stomach clench with hunger. Angel felt shamed to his core over the involuntary reaction. He would never be able to put into words how hard it was to coat himself with his friends' blood, rubbing it on his face and hair but he had to look like he had been the one to commit these crimes. He had smeared blood and tissue on an axe from his cache trying not to look at his slain family as he did so.
He had hidden Connor's axe in the sewers and for the life of him he couldn't say why. He just didn't want it to end up in an evidence locker. By now Faith and Wesley had Connor safely away at Lilah's. After they had left he had gone to the street corner and dialed 911 to tell them he had heard screams coming from the hotel. That was over an hour ago and only now did he hear approaching sirens. He would be lucky to avoid daylight at this point.
The bones of his face shifted. He wanted no chance of being recognized. Some of the police knew him through Kate. And it didn't hurt to have the extra viciousness his game face afforded him. "I'm so sorry to make your deaths a lie," he said softly. "But I don't think any of you would want vengeance on Connor. Well, maybe you Gunn but I think you'll understand."
The police came in cautiously; two young men looking terrified even before they
saw the carnage. He howled wordlessly and charged them.
"Drop it!" one of them cried as the other told Angel to stop. He kept running at them with the axe. He didn't go down at the first shot. Angel ignored the fiery pain as more bullets tore into him. Finally he went down. It was harder than he expected to lie there and play dead but he could do it. They would think he was the guilty party and the case would be closed. Connor would be safe. May his friends' forgive him.