Sins of the Father
Chapter Twenty-Two

Angel was curled against the wall on his bed, staring into the middle distance. He had refused Cordelia's pleas to be let in and he had as yet to pluck up the courage to leave the room.

He had listened to the sounds of enthusiastic voices as they all went out to show Willow and Tara the sights. The witches had knocked on his door to check on him, but he couldn't even bring himself to say thank you.

He heard the sounds of Wes and Lottie two floors below and it was them he focused his ears on. More than anything in the world, he wanted her to be ok. He wanted… If he was honest, he wanted no one to hate him. But he knew that was expecting too much.

He heard the thud of boots coming up the hall and he shrank back against the sound. The footsteps stopped outside his door and Angel sat up straight.

"Angel," he heard Wes say. "It's me. I want to talk to you. Open the door."

When Angel didn't make a move to open the door, he could practically hear Wes huff.

"You're over two hundred bloody years old, Angel! Stop being so childish and open the damn door!"

Angel stood up and shuffled to the door. He took in a deep, unneeded breath and pulled himself up into some semblance of his former self. Then he opened the door.

"Wes -" he started as he opened the door.

But Wes's fist flew into his face so hard he felt his nose crack, blood spurt over his lip and he stumbled back, losing his balance and landing on the floor. He stared up at Wes who entered the room and calmly closed the door behind him.

He cradled his fist in the other hand, checking the bruising that was already starting to bloom across his knuckles.

"No," he said thoughtfully. "I didn't really think that would make me feel better."

Wes sat down in a chair and eyed Angel calmly.

"You should wipe that up before it goes all over the floor."

Angel nodded and stood up, going into the bathroom to snatch up some tissues. He perched on the edge of the bed, with the tissues over his nose. He removed them for a moment to talk.

"You going to hit me again?" he asked. "'Cause I wouldn't blame you."

"Weren't you listening? I said it didn't make me feel any better. Especially when the man you're hitting doesn't intend to fight back."

"But you hate me?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Wes replied honestly, after a while he added, "Melissa died this morning."

"Her mother?"

"Yes. I don't think I'll tell her for a few days. She's been through enough."

Angel averted his eyes.

"Wes, I'm sorry for -"

"You can't apologise, Angel," Wes interrupted. "Just as I can't apologise for taking Connor. But tell me, did you know she can't sleep without the door open?"

"No."

"She didn't need that before. Can I ask why she suddenly needs it now?"

"I - I… I kept her locked in a closet."

Angel heard Wes let out a long shuddering breath and he heard the squeak of leather as Wes's hands tightened on the arms of the chair.

"I thought as much," he whispered, then his head snapped up and he stared at Angel. "You did it."

Angel lifted his head to look at him.

"You know I did."

"No, I mean, you said you did it, not Angelus. You're not him."

Angel resisted the urge to let his mouth drop open at this.

"What?"

Wes turned his head away. He had seen Angelus, seen the smirk, seen the sick glint in his eye. Looking at Angel now, the slump of his shoulders and his mournful eyes, Wes thought he and Angelus barely looked alike. He had intended to yell at Angel until he came to some kind of conclusion. But now, faced with his old friend, who had forgiven for his betrayal, he suddenly found he didn't blame Angel.

It hadn't been Angel that took Lottie, it had been Angelus. He had an advantage over Wesley in that respect, as Wes had been completely himself when he took Connor.

It hurt to admit that this man before him wasn't Angelus, because that meant he had no one to blame but the evil ghost of a vampire buried so deep within this one, it was hard to even see him. More than anything, Wes wanted to hate Angel. But he couldn't. Because this wasn't the man who stole his daughter and locked her in the closet. This was the man who had sat in his kitchen and eaten cookies with his daughter while they discussed school.

So, no, Wes couldn't blame him and couldn't forgive him. As much as it hurt to admit it, there was nothing to forgive.

"As much as this pains me, Angel," he started, looking for words to explain what he wanted to say. "You aren't Angelus. He's in there, but he isn't you," Wes stood up, suddenly burning with fury as he glared at the vampire. "And I hate that you aren't him! I know you're not and I wish to God you were so I could hurt you! That's all I thought about while she was gone - hurting you! And now you're here, I can't. Because you're not him. I know that. You're Angel. And God help me, but I still think Angel is my friend, however much I hate Angelus."

"I'm… What?" Angel shook his head, trying to understand what Wes was saying.

"It would be hypocritical of me to hold a grudge against you for taking Lottie, when I took your son."

"But you didn't mean for him to get hurt, if I could I would have -"

"Shut up!" Wes hissed. "You're always so determined to play the martyr and it's getting old! The point is that whether my intentions were good or not, it was because I stole Connor that he was forced to grow up in a Hell dimension. That is my fault. Lottie did not have to endure anything like that, thankfully. You forgave me, it's only right that I forgive you."

"I don't want your forgiveness, Wesley," Angel started. "Not if it's only in exchange for mine."

"It's not," Wes shrugged. "I've done a lot of reading on Angelus. A lot. I came to the conclusion years ago that you and he were two separate beings existing in one body. I don't have the energy to change that opinion now; especially what has just happened has only proven my theory. So, yes, I forgive you because it wasn't you. I wish you were him so I could take out some kind of revenge, but I can't," he shook his bruised knuckles lightly. "I already tried that and it didn't help. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

Angel was silent. He remembered when he tried to kill Wesley. He remembered that it didn't make him feel any better. But he hadn't expected any of this, he looked up at Wes, by the looks of it, this decision was as much as shock to him as it was to Angel.

"Does this mean you're not going to stop working here?" Angel asked, trying to break the silence.

"There is no other job I can do and I have a child to take care of. I won't bring Lottie here if I can help it. She's just a child, Angel; you can't expect forgiveness from her. Maybe when she's older, she'll learn. But not now and I'm not willing to make her face you. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes."

Wes extended his hand to Angel and cautiously, Angel took it and Wes helped him up.

"Now, I think I should be getting home. I also think you have a job to do that isn't getting done up here. And two witches to thank," Wes lowered his head briefly. "What are you going to do about Cordelia?" he asked. "She says you refuse to talk to her."

"I… I'm going to end it. We can't risk this again."

"Cordelia means a great deal to me," Wes stated. "And you're going to break her heart."

"I don't want to," Angel told him. "But it's better than becoming him again. There is no other option."

"Yes there is," Wes admitted quietly. "Here," he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Angel. "Give it to Willow and Tara to perform. It's the cure for your curse. I found it and took it; I didn't want you to be able to be happy. I'm not entirely at ease with the idea now, but I'm doing this for Cordelia, not you. And I know that should you ever become Angelus again, you'll come after Lottie and next time; I may not be so lucky. Make sure there is no next time. Take it. But remember I'm not doing it for you."

Angel's hand closed around the paper and pulled it from Wes's hand.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Wes snapped. "I'm going. I'll see you on Monday."

"Wes?"

"What?"

"It doesn't help, it never will. But I am sorry."

"I know you are," Wes answered, then studied Angel's nose. "Did it hurt?"

"Yes," Angel admitted sheepishly.

"Good."

With that Wes turned and left the room, leaving Angel clutching his salvation.