Gift

Chapter Four

Ribbons of Dominoes

            After the Johnson's left his office, Angel had demanded that Harmony hold his calls and then promptly skulked into his penthouse to brood.  His son, his precious little boy had come into Angel's office, not have a clue that he was seeing his father.  To Connor, Angel was a complete stranger who might be able to help him find out the origin of his cursed gifts.  He didn't know that Angel already knew about the gifts and where they came from.  Connor was oblivious to the connection they had shared; no one had seen the connection except Angel.  He wished Cordelia had been there, to help him.  Actually, he wished he'd killed Holtz in the 1700's and been done with it.  Then, Connor would have been a year old and Cordelia and Fred would still be alive.  Cordelia might have never given birth to Jasmine without Connor, therefore never falling into the coma.  Angel wouldn't have made a deal with the Devil and Fred would have never been infected by the ancient demoness Illyria.  Every action has a reaction as Fred had constantly told him and he'd set off a domino effect when he'd murdered Holtz's family.  And when he'd listened to Lilah.  He began to feel anger rising inside of him like molten lava.  They had made a deal and Wolfram and Hart's part of the bargain was falling apart.  Connor wasn't happy and oblivious.  Wolfram and Hart, Lilah to be exact, had tricked him into signing his unlife away to stall him from stopping something.  Newton's law.  Damn that woman, she was haunting him from beyond her graveyard office.

"No need to damn me, Angel, I already am."

The ghostly apparition looked so much like her human self, Angel forgot momentarily that she was dead as a coffin nail.  She wore a scarf tied neatly around her neck and it reminded him of a legend he'd once heard of, a little girl that wore a ribbon around her neck always.  She never took it off, she was always told not to, but one day her friend got curious.  The friend couldn't figure out why the girl never took off the ribbon, so she untied it and the little girl's head had fallen off.  He wondered briefly if he untied the scarf if Lilah's head would tumble to the ground in a bloody mess.

"Lord, your thoughts are bloody.  It won't fall off, I just don't like looking at the incision.  Senior Partners had my head permanently attached again."

"Considerate of them."
"Well, I'm not much of a negotiator if I have no head, am I?"

Lilah smiled, nearing a condescending smirk.  Angel dropped himself into a defensive stance, not sure what to take of Lilah's sudden arrival.

"I came now because you were going to summon me.   I don't like being summoned, I do things on my own time."
"Or when the Senior Partners say jump."

"Or then, " she conceded.

"I wish you wouldn't read my thoughts, Lilah."

"Why?  It's almost as good as watching TV.  Not many TV's where I stay now."

"You mean your Hell doesn't provide cable?"

"Nah.  All that's available is Sesame Street and Barney.  'Let's count numbers! Von, Two, Tree…'  Slightly obnoxious if you ask me."

That smile appeared on Lilah's face once more, as if she was thinking of a joke she'd been told long ago.  The smile only further frustrated Angel.  It vanished immediately.  In fact, her entire demeanor changed.

"How is Wesley?"

"Don't you know?"

"I'm not allowed to look in on him.  Senior Partners' rule."

Angel considered not telling her, just to torture her, but changed his mind quickly.

"He's surviving.  Fred died a few weeks ago, so he's fairly heartbroken."

Lilah's features hardened.  "He finally got Twiggy to love him."

It was more of a statement than a question.  If Angel didn't know better, he would have said Lilah was jealous.  She was dead, though, so how could she be?  She cleared her throat and put her business voice on quickly.  "Connor's condition is beyond Wolfram and Hart's control."
"Nothing is beyond their control.  The deal was he would be happy and wouldn't remember any of his life before."

"And he doesn't."

"He's noticed his strengths, Lilah.  He's unhappy and he's trying to figure it all out. It's only a matter of time before he does find out.  "

"Then lie to him.  Or tell him it was the crossfire of a spell.  In a way, it was.  You and Darla were-"

"I don't want to make some fluffy story up for him.  I want to tell him."

"Then go ahead.  It's of no consequence to me."

"Why?  Because the next apocalypse is already set into motion due to our agreement?"

"You're the head of the LA branch.  You tell me."
"I think you wanted us in charge for a reason.  I think our bargain is falling apart because what's done is done and nothing will change it, even if we give up our positions now."

"I think you've done some excellent work and I really do enjoy your new addition to Team Angel.  She's a lively little imp, isn't she?"

"You're saying that Libby is a part of this?"

"I was simply congratulating you on your new employee.  Speaking of employees, I'd find Lindsey."
"What?"
"Lindsey McDonald.  You know, Okie with shaggy hair and an earring, southern accent, sucked up by certain powers."

"So he can try to kill us again?"

Lilah winked, as if telling him that she was giving him his only clue, even though it went against her orders and that was all she would say.

"Tell Wesley I said hello."

Then she vanished completely.  Angel growled, feeling more confused than before he'd talked to Lilah.  Not that it was completely unusual to feel a little confused after conversing with the conniving lawyer.  Angel had the urge to kill something at the moment, and unfortunately for Spike, he entered the room.

            "Get out of here, Spike.  I'm in no mood…"

"Which is always the best time to visit you."  Spike grinned boyishly as if had hit the jackpot on new ways to torture his older brother.  Angel glared at the peroxide vampire thinking about how quickly the day was going downhill.  First, Connor and this faux family, then Lilah, and now a personal visit from Spike.  Hopefully, he had a real reason for coming, one that didn't torture him

"What do you want, Spike?"  Angel spit out the word with a much vehemence as he always did. 

"I went up to see Libby today and you won't believe who was in there."

Spike paused as if waiting for Angel to play a part in his riddle.  Angel let out an unnecessary sigh.  He didn't particularly feel like playing Spike's game.  He did, all the same.

"Who?"

"Mini-Angelus.  In human form, of course-said his name was Connor Johnson."

"What are you talking about?"  Angel sounded both disenchanted and annoyed.

"The boy looked like Angelus.  Same hair, same eyes, same build.  The boy was a bloody miniature of you.  I'm surprised no one else noticed it.  Could be they never saw you as the Angelus of old as I have."

"Is there a point to this conversation or are you just rambling pointlessly?"

"My point is the boy is the spittin' image of you.  He even acts like you do, with all the brooding and the serious dislike of me.  In fact, he looks like he could be your son."

"Vampires don't have children, you know that.  Besides his parents came with him."

"That means absolutely nothing; adoption, kidnapping, honestly it could be anything."

"It's a routine case, Spike."

"That's got you all up in arms about it."

Angel cursed having Spike around all the time.  He was the only one who'd known him for a hundred years, almost.  As much as he hated to admit it, Spike knew him better than anybody else.  He understood the guilt, the bloodlust, the pain.  Spike took Angel's silence as a submission that the case was different.  He waited for Angel o continue, but he didn't.

"I heard rumors in the halls, Peaches, that a few years back Darla was resurrected and

you two were back to your old tricks."

Angel didn't protest.

"I think something must have happened, then.  I know it's impossible for a vampire to have a child.  But say it did.  Say you and Darla had  child, maybe that's why she staked herself.  The baby's probably gonna be screwed up 'cos his parents were vampires and his nanny was a green, horned demon.  Am I getting' warm?"

Angel stalked to the window and pushed back the brocade curtains.  The sun had set already and the moon was streaming in through the treated glass.

"And you've come up with this all on your brilliant powers of deduction?"

"Mostly.  And I stole a Wolfram and Hart file from the records room labeled Connor: Son of Angel.  Really, you make a deal, make sure the hard evidence is destroyed."

Angel whirled and Spike started to chuckle.

"Yeah.  Did you really think I came up with all of that on my own?  It's ridiculous, a little far-fetched, and I can't say that I would even come up with it on my own."

He smiled charmingly at his grandsire, waiting for the rest of Angel's side of the story.  He understood why Angel had taken over Wolfram and Hart now.  He'd given everything up for Connor and Spike understood love that made everything painful and all else unnecessary as long as the object of affection had everything they needed including happiness.  Spike had felt that for Drusilla and again for Buffy.  He had been absolutely dedicated to them and would have done anything for them.  Angel had applied that same obsessive love, blinding love to Connor, even signing a binding contract with Evil, Inc to secure Connor's utter happiness.  That sudden show of feeling made Spike almost admire Angel.  Almost.  But he had an understanding of Angel now, even more so than he had before.

"I want to tell Connor the truth, but I don't think it would help.  It would just shoot him into a universe that is full of confusion and resentment, which is what I was trying to save him from to start with."

Spike nodded sagely, unsure of how to react with Angel confiding in him. 

"I know I can't say anything.  You have no idea how hard it is to see my son wiped from everyone's memory to see me wiped from Connor's memory.  I'm the only who remembers, the only one who even realizes what we lost.  I still remember Wesley's betrayal and I remember how dark he became.  I remember my three months at the bottom of the ocean by my own son's hand and no one else does.  It's impossibly hard to see no recognition in his eyes-when he sat in my office telling me about  his extraordinary gifts-"

He broke off and closed his eyes.  At the break, he began to realize that he was talking about how he felt…to Spike.

"So you know now.  What are you going to do about it?"

"You mean am I going to blab it to everyone?  Like the wankers would believe me.  Besides, I feel bad for the kid.  Having you for a dad, that'd scar me for the rest of my bloody life or unlife.  Look what it did to Dru."

Spike adjusted his duster and turned away. 

"I guess I'll help you protect the secret.  It'll be just like ol' times, won't it?"

"Without the murder and mayhem."

"Well, maybe the mayhem."

Spike left Angel to his brooding, already planning to keep Liberty away from Connor's true origins.  He did feel a mite guilty about lying to the sweet girl, but he knew why they were protecting Connor.

            Wesley slammed the door, feeling a bit stressed. Angel had been acting out of sorts with the Johnson case.  He had been out of sorts with the Johnson case, though he hadn't been the same since Fred had died.  He'd been searching for any information and he'd seen absolutely no mystical insurgences lately.  To translate that, it meant he was finding absolutely nothing that would show the cause of Connor's power which only further irritated him.  He dropped his keys on the front table and entered the living room to find Fred-Illyria waiting for him on the couch.

"Wesley."
"Hello, Illyria."  Their conversations were usually typical.  Illyria was still trying to understand emotion and the new world that had evolved since she'd been resting peacefully in her coffin.

"You are angry."

"I suppose I am.  It's a new case, nothing that would interest you."

"But it would interest Winifred."

Wesley felt the usual wave of pain crash over him when Fred was mentioned.

"Yes, it would likely.  Fred liked to tackle mysteries."
"It is the human way?  Trying to solve problems that is not theirs?"

"Yes.  Call it an error in our genetic make up."

"I call most things an error in your genetic make up."

Wesley smiled, taking it as a joke than an actual statement. 

"You may tell me your problem, Wesley.  If I am to integrate into human society, I should act like one of the lower beings."

"You would be bored, Illyria.  It's just a case I have at work."

Illyria nodded and scooted a bit closer to Wesley.  "I am sorry it pains you to have me here."

Moments like these, he could see Fred's personality shining through Illyria.  Fred always cared about people's feelings, even more so than she cared about her own.  At times, it was odd to see Illyria as Fred.  He knew they were completely different, but he would hope.  He supposed that was why he agreed to help her integrate her into society.  He wanted to mold Illyria into a replacement Fred.  When she spoke like she did, he had that hope.

"Sometimes it's nice to have you here."

Illyria smiled a smile that was almost Fred's, yet still her very own.  He liked it.