TITLE:  Things Past

AUTHOR:  Eloise

RATING: PG13

DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own Wes, and all things Angel. I'm only playing with them. I promise not to hurt them. Much.

NOTES: Chap 8 of 9. Once again, thank you to all you reviewers out there, your kind words make writing even more fun. I really enjoyed writing the Wes/Connor stuff in chap 7, glad you liked it too. Regarding Roger's beard, DoReMi4, I totally agree with you, but I'm following canon Roger (see ep  5.07 Lineage for the evidence!). I love Roy Dotrice's portrayal of R.W-P, but in my mind's eye (and indeed my heart) Wes' Dad will always be played by David Warner. Anyway, on to chapter 8!

Lines of dialogue from Buffy ep. 'Amends'. Chapter Title and quote from 'The Clod and the Pebble – Songs of Experience" by William Blake.

'Love seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care,

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.'

Chapter 8: In Hell's Despair

She sighed softly and raised her fingers to twist through the delicate links of the necklace, feeling the hum of power from the jewel still thrumming against her heart. It was done now, there was no going back. She smiled involuntarily at that thought; then stood up abruptly. She did not have much time.

As if on cue, the door to the Magic Shop was flung open, and a tall, dark and extremely irate man entered, closely followed by a smaller figure, almost running to keep up. So this was the father, the subject of so many prophecies.

'Don't tell me he's not here! I saw his car parked outside!'

Norman was making futile attempts to pacify the vampire.

'Angel, please. Calm down. This won't do any good…' his voice tailed off as she flashed him a look, a brief imperceptible nod of her head. Done.

The souled vampire threw her a suspicious look, seeming inclined to bite first and ask questions later. Halfrek drew herself up haughtily and met his angry gaze boldly, deciding to seize the conversational initiative.

'He's not here, Angel. Norman is telling the truth.'

A sound that was not quite a roar escaped the vampire's lips.

'Who the hell are you, and what do you know about the bastard who stole my son?!'

'My name is Halfrek,' she replied, the ice in her voice far more intense than the heat in his. 'And I'm a Justice Demon. Working mainly for children in danger…' She threw that out almost as a challenge, and he rose to it immediately.

'My son is not in danger! The prophecy is a lie – re-written by some incorporeal time-shifting demon.'

Although she was aware of the truth of his words, something about his manner just rubbed her the wrong way.

'Oh, yes, that sounds so very plausible. Time travelling demon, indeed.' Behind Angel, she could see Norman's look of admonishment, and she relented a little.

'There are forces at work here, vampire, things that you do not know, or could even begin to understand.'

He was beside her in an instant, his cold hand suddenly on her arm. She had forgotten how swiftly vampires could move. She forced herself to remain calm.

'I don't want a lecture on the metaphysical nature of the universe,' he hissed in a soft deadly tone. 'I want to know where he took my son. And I'm not keen on waiting.' The threat of harm very clear in his grip upon her upper arm.

'Kindly remove your hand. I will not be threatened in this manner.'

She hoped she sounded composed and unruffled, hiding the agitation that had flooded her body with adrenaline. To her surprise, Angel complied, unlocking the finger vice, pulling his hand back towards his own body, staring at it as if it were a foreign object. She looked again into the dark eyes, and under the anger she now saw intense aching sorrow. Suddenly realized the depth of a father's grief. She glanced again at Norman, who had come forward, placed his hand carefully upon the vampire's.

'Your son is safe, Angel. He would never allow any harm to come to the child.' She deliberately softened her tone, and saw a muscle jump in his cheek, desperately trying to control his emotions.

'Please.' The word cost him dear. 'Please, tell me where they've gone… I won't hurt Wesley; I just want my son back!' His voice fractured on the last word, and his whole body convulsed in a silent dry sob.

Norman looked back at her, head raised in query. 'Is it time, Halle?' he spoke softly, his hand still upon Angel's.

She raised her fingers to the pendant once more, and felt a tingle as a new surge of power coursed through the jewel. She nodded.

'It's time.'

*~*~*~*

He remained in the shadows of the alley for several minutes after Angelus and the smaller man departed. The creature looked broken, his broad shoulders hunched down in defeated desolation. The sight of that gave him an extraordinary feeling of pleasure. To see his spirit shattered, the despair rolling off him in almost tangible waves, that was infinitely more satisfying than anything he could have planned.

He watched as the two made their way to a car, and gave them a few minutes. Was about to return to his own vehicle to follow, when the lights of another car came into view. The dark blue sedan pulled over to the edge of the road and the purr of the engine ceased.

The rear passenger door opened, and two men exited the vehicle. They were dressed dark, not quite guerrilla, but from their body shapes he guessed that they were what was commonly referred to as 'muscle'. After a moment, another man stepped onto the pavement, and the two bodyguards straightened to attention as if they had been suddenly skewered. Holtz wondered exactly who this man was that he could command that level of respect from his subordinates.

'I do not require your presence inside, gentlemen.'

Holtz felt a cold stab of familiarity as he recognized the accent. Perfect Received Pronunciation, Oxford English, the tone crisp and even. He remembered having his own Yorkshire brogue beaten out of him at school by masters with this voice. The other men nodded in deference, whispered quiet affirmation.

The older man stepped into the light emanating from the shop, and turned again to give an order to his employees, his face suddenly illuminated. Holtz drew in a silent, swift, shocked breath. The last time he had seen eyes that colour, they had been full of anguished uncertainty.

He remembered the distaste he had felt when Sahjhan had revealed the details of Pryce's childhood, how the demon had revelled in his own ingenuity, changing the prophecy to play on the man's weaknesses. Had almost taken pity on him when he had come to him; searching for a way to stop the inevitable. But his desire for vengeance for his own lost children was always going to be much stronger than his sympathy for a childhood lost years ago.

So this was Wyndam-Pryce Senior. Obviously he worked for the Watcher's Council, and this was the team that Sahjhan had alluded to; the one which was on the trail of the vampire's child. Holtz drew back into a doorway, taking extreme care not to be seen by the burly men who lounged against the car, surreptitiously smoking forbidden cigarettes.

After several minutes, the shop door opened again, and the two dropped the evidence of their crime onto the pavement, hastily grinding the stubs under booted toes. Holtz watched as the older man's hands twitched into fists, then relaxed again, cool and deliberate. He walked over to them, and stood very straight, a calm, almost pensive expression on his face. Then swung his palm hard, striking the first man hard enough to rock him on his feet. The second stood stoically, waiting for the blow which fell a few seconds later. 

'I think I made myself very clear, gentlemen. Perhaps you will follow my orders in future.' There was no hint of anger in the clipped tone, and Holtz almost admired him. He understood the need for complete compliance when dealing with life and death situations. The job had to be done, orders had to be obeyed.

Then he thought of a pale face, of a palm crucified to a table. A hot jolt of guilt twisted in his gut. He did not want to be this man. A man who would do anything for the cause. He closed his eyes and suddenly there was Caroline before him, holding his beautiful baby son. Sarah throwing her arms about his neck as he returned from another long trip. The image morphed suddenly; her tiny hands cold upon his skin, no rhythm in her chest.

'Sleep, my love, and peace attend thee, all through the night.

Guardian angels, God will lend thee, all through the night…'

Her little voice pleading, cracking his heart wide open.

'Papa, no! Please, no papa! Papa don't let me go!'

Her thin delicate frame burning in the early morning sun.

The sedan pulled away from the kerb, and he walked back to his own car, turning the key in the ignition. He followed the other car into the night, gripping the steering wheel so tightly the wounds on his knuckles split open and bled.

*~*~*~*

'Where am I supposed to be going?'

Norman could hear the bitten down anger in the vampire's voice, and wondered if they were doing the right thing. He had been pondering that dilemma all the way from L.A.; Angel's shifts from wronged, heartbroken parent to avenging, and here he really didn't want to say 'angel', were frighteningly sudden and without any obvious catalyst. He was beginning to have doubts about the vampire's mental stability. He kept his eyes on the steering wheel, on the white-knuckled grip around the black leather.

'I told you; Halfrek has arranged it. She'll contact Wesley, give him your assurance that no harm will come to Connor or himself. He'll meet us there.'

He did sound incredibly convincing, even to his own ears, and he saw the shoulders drop a fraction, the tension in the arms easing just a little. Maybe they could do this…

'Turn right here.' He motioned with his hand, and they turned into a narrow road that rose at a steep gradient. Angel shifted down a gear, as the engine strained to carry the heavy car up the hill. Half a mile later, the road began to level out, and they saw the lights of another vehicle up ahead. A sound that might have been a sob, or just as easily a growl, escaped the vampire's lips. They pulled into the clearing and turned the ignition off.

Norman recognized the occupants of the truck, some by sight, others by reputation. He knew one of the three humans, the tall black man, Gunn, he remembered now. He was currently sprawled in the back of the truck, hands and feet bound tight enough to cut off the blood supply to his hands and feet. He was at least conscious, although the fresh blood which coated his temple and cheekbone suggested recent head trauma.

The other two humans were both females, both pale-skinned and fine-boned, one dark and one fiery headed. He guessed that the petite brunette was another member of Angel Investigations, from the way she cuddled into Gunn, her bound wrists slipped over his in a mockery of intimacy.

The other woman sat apart from the others, her red-gold hair hanging over her face. Even through this curtain, he could feel the bruises, variously purple, blue and violet poppy-centred marks. They lent her face a mottled hue, as if she was not completely there, but somehow half-hidden in the shadows of pain.

The two demons in the vehicle were familiar to him, too. He remembered the green-skinned demon from the hotel, his rather fierce appearance belying a sweet and gentle nature. Norman really wished he could say the same for the other demon.

This was, of course, Sahjhan, the actual architect of the whole false prophecy, and he was looking fairly solid for someone supposedly incorporeal. Norman shuddered involuntarily, and followed Angel out of the car.

Sahjhan smiled and lifted his hand in a grotesque parody of camaraderie, and stepped out of the truck.

'Angel. Feel like I should be saying something profound, like 'so we meet again, my old nemesis', but I was never much with the deep thoughts. Cut to the chase kind of guy, that's me.'

Rage was rolling off the vampire in waves; he took a step forward, then froze, staring at the view from the clearing.

'I know this place,' he whispered. 'This is where I…' his lips continued to move, but the words made no sense to Norman. 'Am I a thing worth saving? Am I a righteous man…?'

Sahjhan's smile grew wider. 'Great, I hoped you'd remember. The place where you tried to off yourself. Would've saved me a world of trouble if you'd just toasted then, but no, freak weather conditions saved your undead ass. Godamned snow, don't you just hate it?'

Angel closed his eyes, and gave his head a small shake, as if trying to clear it. Sahjhan grinned.

'Trying to figure out when you pissed me off, vampire? Sorry to disappoint, but it was never about you. All about the little nipper, you see. Thorn in my frickin' side.'

'You. You were the one who changed the prophecy, made Wesley take Connor.'

Sahjhan began to clap slowly. 'Well, d'uh. Took you long enough. And while we're on the subject, where is Wesley? Thought you'd have found him by now.'

There was a gentle rustle in the bushes next to Norman, and three men emerged into the clearing, two overtly armed, one with a gun, one with a crossbow. The third, older man walked slightly behind the armed men.

'It seems we're not the only ones looking for Wesley.'

The last time Norman had seen that face had been twenty-five years ago, but he would have recognized the voice anywhere. The accent cool and clipped, each syllable pronounced with careful precision.

Angel swung to face the men, fresh anger in his eyes.

'Who the hell are you?'

'Oh, I was wondering when you guys would get here. Good flight?' Sahjhan waved flippantly.

Wyndam-Pryce Senior pursed his lips together, and fixed them with an icy gaze.

'Angelus, I presume. My son's erstwhile employer.' Distaste evident in his tone. 'And I don't think I've had the misfortune to meet you…?' he gestured towards Sahjhan, who pretended to look hurt.

'Now, Mr Pryce, we're on the same side here. No need to be rude. I'm just interested in averting the apocalypse, same as you.'

'Oh, I sincerely doubt that.' A new voice, one that straightened Angel's spine instantaneously.

'Captain Holtz, good to see you again. Glad you could make it.' Sahjhan spoke with the easy joviality of a convivial host. 'Party's about ready to start – we're just waiting for the guests of honour…'

They all turned as a small hire car rounded the final corner and pulled into the clearing. Sahjhan's grin became wolfish.

'Ah, and here they are now, right on time.'

*~*~*~*

Had his heart beat, it would have paused in his chest. Had he breath in his body, it would have caught in his throat. The air was already heavy with his friends' scents, Gunn's laced with the dark sweetness of fresh blood, as disturbingly appetising as Justine's had been.

He lifted his head as the car door opened, and the familiarity of the scent almost overpowered him. Old books, parchment, ink, and that musky spicy sweetness he had smelled in the hallway, as his own blood had dripped upon his baby. One he now recognized as fear.

The man moved into the muted light of dimmed headlights, and Angel gasped. Wesley had aged at least ten years since he had seen him last night. The tiny laughter lines at the corners of his lips had lengthened and deepened; the dark head was now threaded through with silver. He was still Wesley; the flash of blue behind glasses as intense as ever, but a time-wearied version, as if he had lived another life in the passage of one night.

A second figure joined Wesley in the clearing, smaller than the Englishman, and slight of frame. A boy, perhaps in his mid teens, his body all angles and bones. The scent of the child enveloped him, heartbreakingly familiar, yet somehow alien. The sweet warm milkiness was gone; no longer did he smell baby powder and lavender. But the deep essential core of his scent remained unchanged. His baby, grown past puberty, almost to manhood. It was not possible.

'Angel.' Wesley's voice was quiet, his accent softened by aging. He did not sound particularly afraid.

'Where is my baby?' he forced the words through tight lips, fighting to keep his demon in check, and not sure he really wanted to.

'Dad,' the boy began, and there was a pain in his chest as he heard uncertainty in his voice, a tiny tremor of fear. Wesley laid his hand gently on Connor's arm, and shook his head.

'You bastard, Pryce! What the hell did you do?'

The justice demon emerged from the car, and fluffed her fingers through her curls.

'He needed more time. So I gave it to him.'

'Sent him back to the past?' Sahjhan cocked his head to one side, nodding in reluctant admiration. 'Have to say, I totally wasn't expecting that. Kind of makes things a bit more complicated.'

He threw back his head and let out a wild inhuman shriek, raising both arms wide above his head, face tilted to the dark skies. He began to chant in an archaic language, one that both Wesley and his progenitor obviously recognized, as they both reacted immediately to the incantation.

Wesley grabbed Connor and pulled him bodily towards their vehicle, the boy protesting strongly. He was eternally grateful for the benefit of vampire hearing as he heard the Englishman whisper frantically: 'Not yet, Con. It's not time yet.'

Pryce Senior issued a quiet order to the two operatives who flanked him, and they obeyed immediately, and ran towards Sahjhan, their weapons raised. The sky was split by jagged light, arcing down towards the demon's upturned palms. He was suddenly illuminated, the newly gained power flowing from his fingertips, now directed at the hapless council lackeys. A terrible brilliance enveloped the men, and for a fraction of a second their faces were radiant with horror. And then they were gone.

The aura of extreme power remained around the demon's body, his hands glowing faintly. He made a lazy motion with his finger towards the truck, and the bonds around his friends' bodies vanished. Angel saw Holtz moving towards the vehicle, whispering her name brokenly. Justine raised her head, and stared at him with dumb incomprehension. Then she was jerked into the air, as if attached to invisible puppet strings, and flung with bone-shattering force towards the edge of the precipice.

Angel wasn't sure why, or even how he managed to catch her hand before she fell. But he was there, suddenly, grasping her traumatized wrist in an unyielding grip. She made a quiet sound of pain, and passed out, as he hauled her bodily back onto firm ground.

'You – you saved her.' Holtz was staring at him in anguished disbelief, and again he heard words spoken three years before, echoing in his head.

'Am I a thing worth saving? Am I a righteous man?'

'Hm, nice save. Just testing.' Sahjhan laughed and raised his finger again, and suddenly Connor was lifted out of Wesley's protective embrace, and trailed towards the demon. Sahjhan reached out and touched the boy's face, caressed it almost tenderly, before running his finger nail down the pale cheek, slicing through soft flesh. A thin thread of blood welled slowly along the scratch.

Angel moved with all the speed his vampiric nature possessed, the paternal instinct to protect his child completely overwhelming any sense of self preservation. He was dimly aware of Wesley's similar reaction, and they reached Connor at the around the same time, but before either of them could strike a blow, Sahjhan flipped them in the air and sent them in opposing directions. Angel landed back at his car, his head striking the front fender smartly enough to send white noise exploding in his brain.

He bent his head for a moment; then looked back at the demon, who had now forced Connor to his knees on the ground before him. Wesley lay a few feet away, clearly dazed by the force of his landing, though not badly hurt.

Sahjhan ran his finger delicately along the cut on the boy's face, Connor's blood beading on its tip. He looked over at Angel and tutted with mock severity.

Oh, yeah, forgot to mention. In my corporeal state, I'm pretty damned invincible.'