Chapter Seven
Connor bid them farewell not long later. He needed to get back to his parents. He needed to return to some sense of normalcy. Above all, he just needed to get away from any reminder of Angel. He walked along the main street of town to where he parked his car. He looked into the sky, which was now dawning with beautiful reds and oranges. The warmth hit his face, but he had never felt so cold and empty in his life. That was saying something, given the recent return of memories of his life before.
He was filled with regret. 'I should have stayed!' he thought to himself. None of this would have happened if I had stayed. He would have had time. Time to come to terms with himself, time to reconcile the two halves that made Connor, time to accept who and what he was. Above all, time to get to know, really know, his father. He had given him so much; a new family, a new home, a new life.
He reached his car without incident. How in hell was he going to explain all this to his parents. They would know something was up. He stood at his car at what felt like an hour, before he finally got inside and drove home.
Nobody said much after Connor left. There was just too much information to take in. Spike sat with the same bottle of beer he had started out with, staring at the floor. Gunn hadn't moved from his spot either. Illyria had looked concerned (well what for her passed as it) when Connor left. She felt protective of the boy, but it was unclear to herself why. Layla looked awkward. She had not known either Angel or Connor before this, and didn't know what to say or do. All she did know was that they were meant to come here. She felt it. This was meant to happen. Connor was meant to be told. She sighed, and shook her head. He was standing at a crossroads, and now he would have to make a choice on where his life would lead. It was not going to be an easy choice to make.
Spike looked at her, and met her eyes. 'Bird knows more than she's telling,' he thought. He knew she was their guide from the Powers, and now he wondered if the fact they were here and Connor was here was not more than a coincidence.
"Those of you who require rest should do so," Illyria spoke, breaking the silence. "It is likely he will return later."
Gunn nodded, and went to bed. Spike walked over to the window, and looked out into the morning while he smoked. His mind was buzzing with too activity to go to sleep. Illyria looked at him for a moment, then went outside. The walls were too close here for her to think.
Layla joined Spike by the window. He looked at her as the light of the sunrise reflected off her face.
"You know what's going on here, don't you?" he asked quietly.
She looked at him sadly. Her eyes looked older suddenly, the naïveté gone for a moment. "No, I don't know what is going on. It doesn't work that way. I just know we are supposed to be here. Paths are converging." She turned and looked out the window again. "Something is about to happen here, and when it is over...Connor is never going to be the same."
Connor quietly entered his house, and headed straight for his room. He passed by rows and rows of family pictures...rows and rows of memories. He loved his parents. They were the best parents a guy could ask for. They were patient and understanding, if slightly overprotective. He stopped and looked at picture of him with his parents and sisters. They had given him a great start in life, but....memories of another type snuck in...memories of being hunted, of wide stretches of molten rock, of arid deserts, of never ever feeling safe.
He walked up the stairs, and quietly slipped into his room. His dad would be up soon, but for once he did not have the energy to attempt to hide what he had been doing. He loved his parents, and hated lying to them, but ....how could he tell them? The need to hunt, the drive to be out in the dark, the realization that he was not theirs...he felt split in two.
He started to take off his sneakers, when the doorbell rang. He heard his dad walk into the hallway mumbling, "Who in God's green earth would be up so damn early." He snuck out his room, and watched from the stairs as his father opened the door.
There was a man in his thirties dressed in a suit on his doorstep. He smelled very familiar.
"Hello, Mister Riley. My name is James Bartleby, and I am here to talk to you about your son, Connor."