CHAPTER THREE

"Thank you for bringing us, Wesley," Connor said as he watched Sorcha toddle just ahead of her grown ups inside the arboretum of Los Angeles County. "It's very pretty here."

"Buffy said you and Sorcha like to hike in the woods. It was here or Griffith Park. I thought Sorcha might like the waterfall and the peacocks," Wes replied.

"You weren't wrong about the peacocks," Buffy said, chasing after Sorcha who spotted the birds and was off like a shot.

"So I see. Peacocks can get a bit aggressive," Wesley warned as Buffy snared the girl.

"That girl could find trouble anywhere." Willow smiled softly.

Connor moved closer to Willow. "Could you and Wes take Sorcha for a few minutes. I need to talk to Buffy."

Buffy looked back hearing his soft words. She knew he was having trouble today holding it together.

"Of course." Willow stroked his hair back. "Angel will come around, Connor, promise."

Connor bit his bottom lip, not looking at her. He moved closer to the showy pink trumpet trees heavy with blossom and waited for Buffy.

Buffy put her hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong, Connor?"

"I think we made a mistake." His eyes were watery. "Dad doesn't want us here."

"Angel does want us, Connor. He just can't admit it yet. He's afraid," Buffy said, praying she wasn't wrong.

Connor shook his head. "He's given up."

"Yes, Angel has so it's up to us to show him there is hope. I know this is hard on you. We can leave if you want but I think we should try just a little harder," Buffy said, hoping Connor wouldn't simply shatter.

"I should have let you bring Sorcha alone. You were right, it's too soon for me," he said.

"You're doing great. Think you can just concentrate on the gardens? Try to forget Angel for a few hours and just enjoy yourself. If you're feeling really bad, we can go home and you can get some rest."

"I want to stay. I like it here." Connor suddenly leaned closer, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Buffy, for everything. I'd be lost without you."

Buffy smiled at him. "Come on, little brother. Let's look at the flowers."

They poked around the park for another two hours. Sorcha even bore up to the historical stuff Willow managed to wheedle them into seeing. Buffy didn't like Connor's near total silence and blank expression but Sorcha was so excited that she didn't seem to notice. Buffy wanted to kick Angel's ass for him again just for upsetting Connor this much. Her heart could handle a little more breaking. She was used to gluing it back together. Connor had so many pieces missing already that if he broke again, she might not be able to help Humpty Dumpty him together again.

Connor took Sorcha upstairs for her nap when they got home. Buffy wouldn't have been surprised if he laid down for one himself. Willow disappeared with Wesley in a pleased tizzy over some kind of spell book the man wanted to show her. Buffy wasn't surprised to find Angel wasn't in the main house but was shocked to see he wasn't in his apartment either.

She popped into the library long enough to ask Wes for suggestions and he directed her to the Watchers Complex's gymnasium. Buffy left the house, crossed the wooded courtyard ripe with the scent of eucalyptus and found Angel right where Wes said he would be, beating the crap out of a helpless punching bag.

"I have half a mind to hang you up there and treat you the same way," she said.

Angel steadied the bag with one hand, wiping his sweating brow with the other. His eyes were still blackened but already they were beginning to fade. "What did I do now?"

"You could have come to see us off before we headed out or given any signs that you were still alive and cared." Buffy moved right into his personal space. "Connor is ready to go home or have another break down thinking you don't want us here. I've spent three years watching him inside that rest home, Angel. I'm not ready to see it again. All he needed was a simple bit of interest to make him happy."

Angel walked away from her. "Sorry. I slept through you leaving. I was going to come down...I just...I didn't want Sorcha to see me like this, all busted up. By dinner, I won't look like a monster."

Buffy considered that and thought he might actually meant it and had been trying to do a good thing. "Okay, I can understand that. But you should have said something to me or Connor. He's not the son you remember, Angel. Connor needs more reassurance. If he's not taking a nap now, you might want to come over and talk to him. He wants you to but I can tell you he's not going to make the first move. He's too afraid."

"So am I," Angel said in a whisper. "If he's not asleep, I'll talk to him. What about Sorcha's gifts? Did I miss that?"

"No. We're doing it after dinner tonight. I think we had best eat in again. Connor didn't look well at the gardens today, even if it was what he wanted to do. I don't think he'd do well out at a restaurant tonight," Buffy said and watched Angel swallow hard. She knew it was killing him to hear how bad off Connor was.

"Okay...just no Mexican. It was Fred's favorite. Wes can't stand the smell of it now and to be honest, neither can I."

Buffy went over and put a hand on his back. "Thanks for the warning. I'll suggest fried chicken. Sorcha likes that. Connor will eat anything or nothing as the case may be."

Angel nodded. "That'll be fine. I need to shower. I could meet you back at the main house, see if he's awake."

"All right. Just be patient with him, Angel. Soft voice, if you can. He doesn't like loud sounds." Buffy tried not to sound accusatory, like she expected him to yell at Connor. "Sorcha's full of loudness but he's okay with that. It's men's voices that freak him out."

"Thanks for telling me. I didn't know." Angel wilted.

"It's not that I expect you to yell at him or anything but you can be intimidating without even knowing it," she said, sounding sheepish.

Angel turned to face her fully for the first time. He caught her hand. "Is this as good as it's going to get for him, Buffy?"

She wanted to tell him a sweet lie, that it would only be better from here. "I don't know. The doctors don't know. They think he'll get better but he could just as easily get worse. He needs you to at least talk to him."

"I will. I promise."

Angel didn't keep his promise and he hated himself for it. By the time he was done with his shower, and his bruises had faded to the point Sorcha was likely not to notice them, Connor was asleep. Angel refused to wake him. Buffy went and prodded the young man awake but by then Angel had disappeared into the Watcher's Complex on the pretense of working on something. He didn't come back until they were sitting down to a few buckets of fried chicken.

"Not that piece, Sorcha," Buffy said, as her niece grabbed a breast out of the bucket.

"Lots of crunchies," Sorcha protested.

"That's the spicy one. Give it to your dad. He's the one who likes stuff that's hot enough to melt your teeth." Buffy pried the chicken out of Sorcha's strong little fingers. "I'll find you one with lots of breading."

"Here, Sorcha, how about this?" Willow held up a piece totally covered with breading, so much so it ha long fingers of crispy breading.

"Thank you, Aunt Willow." Sorcha sat down with her dinner.

Angel sat on the couch with Connor. "Hot enough to melt teeth?"

Connor held out his plate. "Want to try it?"

Angel shook his head. "I don't eat."

Connor stabbed a finger at Spike who sat on the floor, his back to the love seat with Cordy sitting above him on the furniture The vampire had a plate of chicken and onion rings. "Spike's eating."

Angel rolled his eyes. "Spike's weird."

"Well, yeah. He's a vampire. That's a given." The corners of Connor's lips twitched with amusement.

Angel glowered. "No, it's not. If I eat a small piece, will you be happy?"

Connor shrugged. "Wouldn't hurt."

"Give him a neck," Spike said, around an onion ring dripping with barbeque sauce.

"There are no necks in here," Buffy said then her face screwed up. "Man, I sure hope there's no necks."

"Ewwww." Sorcha giggled.

"I'm with you there, sweetie," Cordy said.

"Here, try a spicy wing." Buffy handed Angel a wing on a plate then sat beside Sorcha to make sure the girl didn't try shoving huge pieces of chicken into her mouth.

Angel nibbled it. "I can almost taste this. How hot is it?"

"Mouth blistering, just like Connor likes it." Willow grinned. "I think he finds British cuisine...disappointing."

"Very," Connor agreed.

"We just prefer not to burn away our taste buds." Wesley smirked.

"Yes, because we want those intact to taste our blood pudding." Buffy shuddered.

"Ummm, my Mum used to make a great blood pudding," Spike said, his eyes closing in delight.

"No such thing," Willow countered.

"Crunchy?" Sorcha twisted around, waving a piece of breading at him.

Angel smiled and took it. He obliged her by eating it. "Thank you."

"Play later," she insisted.

"Okay," Angel said.

Angel listened to everyone bantering back and forth as he did his duty and actually ate the chicken wing. His stomach roiled at the introduction of solid food. He eat so rarely. He had no idea how Spike stood it.

The room felt like it was closing in on him while cutting him out simultaneously. No one was addressing him directly. He knew he should just start talking, try to get into the flow. He promised Buffy he'd talk to Connor but he knew nothing they had to say to one another should be done in public. Did he just ask his son to get up and follow him somewhere more private? Connor looked too content to bother. Angel could see he was irrelevant, had no place in the dynamics of his one-time family. Buffy was wrong. He wasn't needed. Angel got up and went outside, staring up at the moon. He could barely see it through all the light pollution. If he wanted stars, he would have to paint them in by memory. He could just live in his memories, be someplace in time when he still thought he could love Buffy without harm, when he thought he could be a good father to Connor. He would rather be lost in the paradise of remembrance than be forced into his bleak reality.

"Please, don't go."

Angel looked over his shoulder, unprepared to see his son there, looking like a kicked dog. It gutted him. He felt weak. He wanted to fall into the grass and just let the earth swallow him. He should have been laying in the ground over two hundred years now, maybe it was time. "I was just going to the headquarters." He gestured across the way to the big stone building. "I might be needed."

"You're running away. I can't..." Connor's voice broke. "I thought you were having fun, that you liked Sorcha."

He turned to face Connor. "I have no right to it. You're better off without me."

Connor came down the back steps, crossing the yard. "I've always thought that. I thought that the only part of my life that wasn't a lie was the time I spent in Quor-Toth and everything here wasn't real. But it was. The lies were Jasmine...and the spell you cast over me. The time I first spent with you, tricking you, that was a lie, too. But when you came back, that part wasn't a lie."

"And you hated it and I was a lousy father. I threw you out and I made one half-assed attempt to get you back. I never took the time to try and make you feel welcome or safe. I wanted to shove you into the mold I had in mind for the perfect son and when you didn't fit, I had no patience for you. You don't need me around, Connor," Angel said, his voice gravelly.

"I was wrong about not needing you," Connor said, oddly persistent.

"No, you weren't. I've destroyed everything I've ever touched. I destroyed you."

Connor was so close now, Angel could feel his breath on his neck. "No, you didn't, not alone at any rate. You helped. So did Holtz and Cordy and Jasmine, even Fred and Gunn. I destroyed myself. It's my name, after all. I'm the Destroyer."

"Don't say that. You're more than that." Angel stroked his hair out of his son's eyes.

"Maybe, but it's a part of me. What have I touched that I haven't destroyed? Don't you understand I need you?" Fat tears, glistening in the moonlight, spilled down his cheeks. "I'm afraid, Dad. I'm not well. I'm never going to be normal. The doctors said I could live back in the world now but too much stress...and I won't last. I'm scared to death. No one trusts me alone with my daughter. I don't blame them. I need you. I need someone to help me stand on my own again."

Angel caught the sob percolating up out of him as he grabbed onto Connor. He crushed the young man to him. Connor had only ever asked for his help once before and actually meant it. The last time he was begging Angel to kill him. Now he wanted his father to help him live. Connor's tears burned into his chest and Angel fought back his own tears. His son finally needed him and he still felt like running. Angel knew if he did, that would be the end. He had broken enough minds in his time to know one more huge disappointment and Connor might never recover.

Angel tucked his chin on top of Connor's head. The wind shift just a bit and he caught the scent of Buffy on the breeze. He looked up and saw her on the back porch. He said nothing, turning his attention back to his son, feeling the young man's heart hammering as Connor balled his hands in shirt. Angel felt Buffy's hands touch his as she tried to embrace both men at once. Angel shifted, letting her into the circle.

Finally, Angel let his arms drop, daring a step back. They were too close to breaking through and he couldn't allow that. Connor let him go but Buffy clung like a burr. The fire in her eyes could be seen in the dark.

"You're not running away again, Angel. This time I won't let you," she told him. "You just heard how much your son needs you." She rested her calloused hand on the wing of Connor's too-thin shoulder.

"Have you figured it out yet, Buffy? Running is what I do best." Angel couldn't pack more self loathing into his words if he tried.

"That's not true," she said in a small voice, doubting every word.

"Really?" You don't know me as well as you think then, Buffy." He stomped away and this time it was Connor who stopped him, chucking him into a Eucalyptus tree. Angel rubbed his shoulder and continued his tirade. "I'm a runner. I have been since I was mortal. I was some grotesque Peter Pan, drinking and whoring, hiding from growing up, running from responsibly. Darla offered me the ultimate chance to run and see the world. I saw she had money just from how she dressed and I jumped at it. No more being bound to what I could steal from my father and friends, never getting further than a few miles outside of Galway."

Angel tried to step away from the tree but they penned him in. "Of course, I didn't know she meant to kill me first. The running stopped once I was Angelus. The demon is the only part of me that had an ounce of coward. Liam's a coward. He runs. Surely the First Evil showed you that, Buffy. Once I was cursed, the running started again. I ran all the way to China, then to America, hiding and moving any time anyone tried to bring me back into life. I was running from life but didn't have the guts to end it. I finally ran out into the streets, hiding from the sun where I could, living in filth, eating rats. Why don't you ask Faith how much of a runner I am? She knows. She lived it with me in that Orpheus trip."

Angel saw Buffy's face crumble at the reminder that no one knew him more intimately than Faith. "I'd still be in the gutter now if not for Whistler, taking me to meet you, Buffy." Angel paused, knowing he was shouting. Connor's face registered nothing but curiosity. Buffy was a poem of pain. She knew most of this terrible talk. "And what good was I to you? I let you face the Master alone. I murdered Jenny, tortured your Watcher then abandoned you to run off to L.A. I wasn't even there when you died or when you were resurrected."

"You died?" Connor interrupted Angel's bilious flow.

"Twice," Buffy replied, her eyes never leaving Angel.

"I've only died once." Connors' voice was so soft Angel thought he imagined it.

"You weren't dead long, Connor. Just until Wolfram and Hart cast their spell," Angel said weakly, "Barely longer than when Buffy died the first time."

"You didn't run then. It would have been easier to let me die," Connor said.

Angel took a deep, unnecessary breath in. Leave it to his son to argue, to find the holes in his story and rip them asunder, exposing the underlying lie. Why couldn't he just leave it, as his father was a no-good shirker? That's what Connor had always wanted to believe in the first place. "No, I saved the running for later, for now. All I've ever done is bring misery into people's lives. It's better if I just keep running."

"Are you done now?" Buffy asked.

Angel nodded. He knew she was going to hit him even before the fist came at him. This was almost the same argument they had had Christmas Eve and she had hit him then, too. His head hit the tree, the bark tearing his scalp. He landed hard, a root assaulting his tail bone.

"I wish I had done that," Connor muttered.

"We've had this talk before, Angel, whether or not you are a worthy man. The Heavens opened up and it snowed in southern California. The skies darkened so the sun wouldn't kill you. How many signs do you need before you believe that you have a purpose here." Buffy's fists clenched and unclenched like a pounding heart. "Yes, you've done terrible things but I'd be dead and gone many times over without you. Remember killing that demon and feeding me its heart so I wouldn't go insane from uncontrolled telepathy? I'd be a gibbering idiot locked away if not for you, worse than being dead. You saved the world time and again. What more proof do you need?"

"You tried to break into Quor-toth, a place so terrible there are no passages into it. You told me you tried. That's not running or did you lie?" Connor's eyes were fierce blue slits.

"I didn't lie."

"I need to know, Dad, are you going to run or are you going to be part of our lives? You just told Buffy she was the one who made you live again. Are you just going to walk away from her and forget that? For once in my life, I was able to admit that I need you. Does it mean nothing? Because if the answer is yes, we'll pack up, spend a few days with Spike and Cordy and go home and you won't ever have to see us again."

Angel heard the dead, matter of fact tone of his son's voice. It wasn't a bluff. He picked himself up off the ground, rubbing his battered head. "What do you think I have to offer?"

"You told me you weren't getting older when I told you I needed to figure out my life. The implication was you would be waiting for me. Has that changed?" Buffy's voice trembled as if she was afraid it had.

"You told me it would be years, if ever." Angel hated throwing her words back at her but they had hurt. They had been just one more nail in his coffin.

"Fine. Given what Buffy's told me about the curse, maybe it's just as well you don't love her any more," Connor said.

"I didn't say that."

"Then you do." Connor pushed into Angel's personal space. "The doctors told me I'm a borderline personality, just this side of being a sociopath. That won't ever change. Do you think I don't know how everyone looks at me when I'm with my own daughter? I know they're afraid I'm going to wig out and do something to her. I'm scared to death to be alone with her because I just don't know...there are days when nothing seems real."

"You told me," Angel said, not wanting to hear it again because the pain was too much, like dunking a hand into fire. He wanted his son to be healthy and happy and he didn't see how he could help that. "And I'm scared, too. Don't either of you understand? I'm afraid if I'm with you, something worse is going to happen to you or to the baby. It's paralyzing. You want me to be there, to be strong for you two but I'm not. I think about the miasma of death and destruction that has always surrounded me and then I think about bringing it near that beautiful child and I panic. It feels like I can't breathe and my heart's beating a hundred miles an hour and I know it's all in my head because I don't breathe. My heart doesn't beat but the anxiety is there just the same. Every time I try to live a little, something comes along and crushes that little bit of life."

"So you're not coming back inside," Connor said. "You're going to walk away even though you really want to be with us?"

"I'm humiliated because I wasn't there when you both needed me so much. How do I take that back?" Angel asked.

Connor shrugged and turned on heel, heading for the house. Buffy looked at Angel, shattered. "You always used to know the right thing to do and say. This is so wrong, Angel."

She hadn't taken two steps after Connor when he blurted out, "I love you both so much." They froze and Angel made his choice. "Do you honestly want me back?" He knew he sounded small and weak but at this point, he didn't care. He needed to know.

"We're here, aren't we?" Buffy asked, frustration leaking back into her voice.

"I can't lose either of you again. I won't survive it." Angel hoped they believed him.

"I'm pretty familiar with loss," Connor said with that flat tone that Angel was hearing too often, hating it each and every time. "You know Buffy is, too. None of us will survive alone."

"What he's saying is, Angel, we need you. Maybe you are weak. We all are when we're alone. We're not asking you to drop everything and come back to London with us," Buffy said. "We're just asking for you to stop being a zombie, roaming through the fringes of our life." She held out a hand to him.

Angel went to her and took it. "I can do that. I want to. Seeing Sorcha, realizing how much I had missed and this time it was my own fault, it was too hard."

"She can be a scary little kid. She loves so freely and fiercely it can be overwhelming," Connor said. "And she really likes you. I haven't seen her take to anyone so fast."

Angel knew Connor really had no idea how his daughter acted with people, having really only been out in the world with her little more than a month. Buffy's eyes backed him up. "I can feel that and I'm not sure I'm deserving."

"That's not up to you. Sorcha loves who she loves," Connor said then made a face. "Of course, she really likes Uncle Spike, which I wasn't sure about there being two vampires in her life but Buffy said it's okay."

"I'm not so sure about that but that's not for me to decide either," Angel said.

"Damn straight," Buffy said, without malice. "She adores Spike. Of course, he sends her gifts a lot and I'm kinda glad he's over here because he spoils her rotten as it is. If he were in England with us, I don't even want to think about it." Buffy herded them both back into the house. They all paused at the door to the living room, looking at the tranquil-appearing sense. Angel could sense the underlying tension.

"There you are, I thought we'd have to send a search party out," Cordelia said. "Poor Sorcha's been dying to get to those gifts and it's already past her bed time."

"Sorry, kiddo," Buffy said, ruffling her niece's hair. "Tell you what, you open the gifts and then you can play with them tomorrow and I promise I'll read you your favorite bed time story."

Sorcha considered that then nodded her agreement. She took Cordelia's hand and led her back to the love seat. "Sit, Aunt Cordy." She then directed everyone else to various seats, including putting Angel on the couch.

Buffy brought the gifts over with Connor's help. "Why don't you start with the one from your grandfather?"

Sorcha tore into the bright paper with abandon.

"I found shopping for toys was a bit...confusing," Angel said.

"What's confusing, Peaches? They have age limits right on the box." Spike smirked at him.

"Thank God. Maybe I should have said scary. Toys nowadays seem awfully complicated," Angel fretted, wondering if he had made a huge blunder with the gift.

"That's because the average three year old is smarter than you," Spike said and Cordy elbowed him.

"What is it?" Buffy eyed Spike in warning as well as Sorcha got the paper off her gift.

"Pictures," Sorcha replied.

"It lets the kid doodle and it talks and teaches them words that goes with the doodling stencils...like I said, confusing." Angel hunched in on himself.

"I think it's cool. She'll love that," Buffy said. "We like Vtech toys like that. Between Giles and Willow, I don't think there's anything but intelligence builder toys in the house."

"Thanks, Dad. Buffy's right, she'll enjoy it. What do you say, Sorcha?" Connor prompted.

"Thank you," Sorcha said, already reaching for the next box with the typical greed of a child.

"I found toy shopping as daunting as Angel," Wes said, gesturing at the box Sorcha had. "But it is age appropriate."

Sorcha cooed excitedly at the plastic multi-colored kaleidoscope of gears that would allow her to build her own designs. She was equally excited by the doll Spike had gotten her.

"The bloody thing teaches kids how to speak Japanese," he said.

"Oh good. I'll be listening to it all day just so I don't know less than my niece," Buffy moaned.

High-end clothing from Cordelia rounded out the gifts. Angel saw the irritated look Buffy had in her eyes at the implication that Cordelia didn't think she could dress Sorcha right. Neither woman said anything but Angel knew women well enough to read the body language.

"Come on, sweetie. Time for bed and that story I promised you," Buffy said, scooping the girl up.

"No." Sorcha pointed at Angel. "Granddad read."

Angel's eyes widened. "Me?"

The little girl bobbed her head.

"She'll make you read it at least twice. Her current favorite is Fox in Socks." Connor grinned.

Angel followed Buffy up to the spare bedroom, feeling ridiculously nervous as Buffy got the little girl ready for bed. Sorcha bounced in, not looking particularly tired but given all the jet lag, she had to be messed up internal-clock-wise. She gave his cheek a big kiss as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'll be downstairs if you run into trouble," Buffy said, smiling at him as if she expected him to be hollering for help in under three minutes.

"I think I can handle this," He assured her and started reading to his grandchild. As she settled down, her big blue eyes, closing, he couldn't imagine anything more perfect. Now if he could only kill the voice in the back of his head that warned, trouble was on the horizon