Chapter 10 – Family connections.

Thanks to my wonderful beta, Bogwitch, who has continued to work on this for me through very difficult times. Thanks also to Late Starter for taking over while Onetwomany is at WriterCon.

The dialogue used in the conversation between Connor and Spike at the end of this chapter is not mine. It comes from Origins, where the conversation was between Connor and Angel.

"No. Really, Angel, he's fine. Amazingly so, given what he's just been through. We put him on the sofa bed in Spike's office. . . . "What? No. The surgeon thought he'd be better there than in the Medical Centre. He was . . ." Fred paused, choosing her words carefully. "He was a little freaked at the sight of demon medics at first, so he'll need a familiar face around when he wakes up. Right. Give us twenty minutes. Spike's just finishing his shower. We'll meet you back in his office."

Fred closed her cell phone and looked over at the shower, just as a freshly scrubbed Spike emerged wearing her bathrobe and towelling his hair.

"Pink's not exactly my colour, Love. But thanks for the loan." Spike rubbed his hair vigorously and looked across at her.

Fred stood, with mouth slightly open gazing at the apparition in front of her.

"So, how'd he take it? Still breathing fire and out for my blood?"

Fred continued to stare at him in wonder. His damp hair full of unruly curls, blue eyes searching hers for a comforting sign. He looked so slight dressed in her bathrobe, so small without the bad-boy costume of black and leather. So vulnerable, she thought. Like a fallen angel. "Not at all," she said gently. "In fact, Charles has discovered something important. We're meeting in your office. Angel wants to talk to all of us. He's trying to track down Wesley and Lorne now."

"Oh well, fine," Spike thought for a moment. "S'pose the barkeep can wait a bit longer. I'd better get dressed then." He gestured towards the door next to the shower. "Just give me a mo."

"Spike," Fred called as he closed the door of the dressing room behind him, "I've something to – um – I found something, while the medical team was working on Connor."

Spike stopped towelling his chest and looked up at the door, his eyes narrowing in concern. "Yeah? And…, er,… just what might that be, Pet?"

"Well. You know that Connor was bleeding a lot when you brought him in. He was really badly injured from that stab wound . . ."

Spike frowned. What had she uncovered?

"We needed to find a blood match fast. There was none suitable in stock, so I ran a check on his files – and those of his parents."

Spike waited, hoping against hope that she hadn't looked too deeply into the files. Fat chance. This is science-girl we're talking about. She doesn't give up. She digs deep.

"They didn't match, Spike. Neither of them." Fred paused, waiting for a response. She rubbed at the steam on the glass. It's on the inside, Fred; you can't remove it from out here. "Can you hear me in there? Silly question, I suppose. Vampire senses. I keep forgetting."

"I can hear you," Spike said quietly. "Go on."

"At first I thought, 'Oh, no worries. He could be adopted, or from a surrogate. So I decided to run a check on employees to see if I could find a match there."

"And did you?" Spike pulled on his black jeans and searched for his boots under the towels he'd dropped. Fred knew. The clever little thing's worked it all out. Why is she beating about the bush like this? "

"Well yes, I did. We have an extensive biometrics database, maintaining a range of forensic quality identifiers on all our subjects. Cross matching the Human leukocyte antigen test results produced a short list of potential donors who could be easily reached in a very short time."

"Huh?"

Fred ignored him and continued, warming to her topic, gathering speed as she did so. "Everyone on the short list was male - which is interesting don't you think? I mean the proportion of males to females working here is pretty much 50/50, so you'd think there would have been some women on the list. But that wasn't the only reason it was interesting. Something pinged in the back of my mind when I read the list. Something I thought I knew, but I couldn't quite catch it. But I had a hunch, so I decided to follow it."

See? Doesn't give up. Just like trying to work out how to make me all corporeal again. Spike remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her flow, wondering how much she was going to reveal, and when.

"The presence of a specific antigen indicates a particular genetic marker. Parentage blood testing is based on the principle that the child inherits genetic markers in his blood from each of his biological parents." Fred shifted from one foot to another, irritated by having to talk to a door. She wanted to see Spike's reaction to what she was revealing.

Spike picked up his blood-spattered T-shirt and stared at the stains. Blood, it always comes back to blood. He bit his lip and felt the metallic tang on his tongue. Slowly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at the streak of red covering his knuckles. My blood, Drusilla's blood. Angel's blood. He looked towards the door frowning. Would a check on my blood lead to them? What about mother?

Fred stepped closer to the door and put her hand on the doorknob. "A check of the mitachondrial DNA gave me a lead to the mother, and a small tissue sample on her card file. Some of the files were classified and hidden away - like in the Fort Knox section." She giggled nervously and rolled her eyes at the analogy. "But Knox got me in. Sort of through the back door, so he said. He has access to all sorts of things I never knew existed." Fred paused. "Though I don't quite know how he got into these, because they're bio-tech protected, so that means he must . . ."

"Knox had to go to Fort Knox to get these files? Does he have family connections?" Spike asked easing his T-shirt over his head, trying to flatten his hair into submission as he did so.

Fred frowned at the interruption. Was Spike deliberately misunderstanding her analogy? She took a deep breath and continued. "I was able to set up a Polymerase Chain Reaction, that is to genetically photocopy enough of the mother's DNA to compare her nucleic DNA with Connor's to establish which part she had contributed. That left me with the code which had come from the father."

Spike thought for a moment. "You lost me, Love, 'round about mitachondrial DNA"

" Mitachondrial DNA is the code that is passed on, unchanged, from mother to offspring." Fred stopped, no longer fascinated by the scientific investigation she'd carried out, but concerned about the consequences of her findings. "Um, Spike?" Her voice softened. She put her hand on the doorknob again and began to turn it. "Do you know who Connor's mother and father are?"

"I do," he whispered stepping close to the door. "And so do you. Don't you, Pet?"

Fred opened the door. She looked into Spike's eyes and her own filled with tears. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Angel tell me? Don't you trust me?"

Spike felt a surge of anger and dropped his gaze from hers. He didn't want Fred thinking it was directed at her. He picked his duster off the coat-rack and sighed. " I would've told you ages ago, but it wasn't for me to tell."

"Do the others know? Am I the only one who didn't?" She searched his face for reassurance.

Spike eyes softened again. "You all knew, once," he said. "Long story," he added, seeing her puzzled look. "Bottom line, Angel didn't tell anyone what happened to Connor. He had his reasons," he said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "He didn't mean to hurt any of you."

Fred leaned her head against Spike's chest as he gently stroked her hair. "So why do I feel like this?"

Spike lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. "Something to do with the gap in your memories my guess." He brushed her cheek with his fingertips, then squared his shoulders and stepped away from her. "We'd best be getting back," he said, "Connor will be awake soon with questions about this place that need answering. God alone knows what Angel is planning to say to him." Or to the rest of you, for that matter. "You OK, Pet?"

"Not really, I mean, it's not everyday you find out that there's a huge hole in the world where your memories used to lead." Fred locked the door to the lab with shaking fingers and held the arm Spike offered as they walked back towards his office.

"You know," she said brightly. "We know that Darla and Angel are Connor's parents. What we don't know is how." She blushed. "I mean, we do know how, obviously, but we don't understand how it was possible for two vampires to produce a normal healthy human." She stopped and tilted her head slightly. " I have this theory about genetic engineering . . . "

Spike smiled. That's more like it!

----------

Angel looked at Gunn and slowly shook his head in disbelief. Things couldn't possibly get any worse. Could they? "No Big Cat?"

Gunn stared at the floor in front of Spike's desk and didn't respond.

"So, what was there? Was the room even there, this time?" Angel lowered his voice so that he wouldn't wake Connor.

Gunn nodded, refusing to meet Angel's enquiring look.

Angel prompted again. "Was there anything there?" Gunn looked smaller, somehow, slumped in a chair, refusing to make eye contact. Angel had never seen him so traumatised.

"Not a thing – a one."

"A one what?" Angel glanced anxiously over his shoulder at Connor stirring slightly on the sofa bed. Don't let him wake up until Spike gets here, he prayed silently.

"Someone," Gunn intoned looking blankly into the space beyond the window.

"Who? A new conduit? Like the little girl?" Angel stood up and crossed the room to where Connor lay. He picked up the blanket that had slipped onto the floor and gently replaced it over his son. "Get a move on Spike. What's taking you so long?" he muttered under his breath.

"No – Yes - No, not like the little girl," Gunn looked at Angel in anguish. "A man."

"Did he help? Did you get anything out of him?"

"Only a beating," Gunn said quietly. "And a lesson I won't forget in a hurry."

"What? I don't understand. . "

"I told you, Angel. Reality's unravelling. We don't belong here. We have to find a way home. There's no way through the White Room any more." Gunn sank back into the chair and closed his eyes. "Did you get Wes?"

"I tried his office but it's locked and he's not answering his phone."

"Watcher was sleeping the sleep of the just on top of a pile of books last time we looked." Spike nodded at Gunn. "Looks like Chuck could do with a spot of the same."

"How long have you been here?" Angel asked, turning to face the younger vampire. He was surprised to see Fred standing in the doorway, holding Spike's arm as if she would collapse without the support he was providing.

"Long enough to know we've got more problems than we deserve if we're talking unravelling realities. We've already got Fred's alternative universes to consider." Spike replied.

"Alternative universes?" Fred's found alternative universes now? Here?" Angel looked bemused.

"I never said alternative universes. I was talking about genetic engineering and the possibilities that would provide for vampires."

Spike led her over to an armchair, watching Angel's face as he did so. Things are hotting up, he thought. Talk of vampires and genetics from Fred, unravelling realities from Charlie Boy. What next?

Spike looked on with concern as Fred lowered herself into the chair, crossing her arms in defence against the next emotional attack on her already shaky confidence. "Oh, was that what you were on about? Keep telling you, Pet, can't expect me to keep up when you go all science-girl." Spike smiled gently at her. "I'm still stuck in the Industrial Revolution, or the Dark Ages, according to some people." Spike focused his attention on Angel and jerked his head in Connor's direction. "How's the boy?"

"If that's me you're talking about – the boy's awake. And chock full of questions." Connor eased himself into a sitting position and reached for the shirt on the arm of the sofa. "Is anyone going to tell me what happened in the medical ward? Who – what were those things that did all those tests on me?"

Spike moved quickly through the room and sat on the sofa arm, gathering his thoughts together before he spoke. "They're good doctors. You were in safe hands – or –um claws."

Connor frowned slightly. "What were those things that attacked us?"

Spike shrugged. What the hell, he thought. Boy knows something's afoot. "Some kind of demon."

"We're looking into it," added Angel.

"Is that what I am? Some kind of demon?" Connor asked, indicating the fading wounds on his hands.

Angel opened his mouth to respond but Spike cut him off. "No, you're not."

"Then...what am I?" Connor appealed first to Spike, then to Fred.

"Best we can tell, you're a healthy, well-adjusted kid, with uh... enhanced abilities," Spike replied.

"And you're a vampire. So...demons, vampires, doctors with claws... and I'm some sort of super-hero." Connor shrugged. "OK." He swung himself off the bed, clutching a sheet to his waist, and rummaged through the pile of bedclothes for his pants. He winced slightly as he bent down to retrieve his underpants from the floor.

Angel laughed with relief. "You're taking this pretty well."

"What am I supposed to do, complain? I just don't know how I'm gonna explain it to my parents." He gripped his underpants in one hand and the sheet in the other. "You got family?" he asked, turning to Angel.

"No – Not blood kin, at any rate, not unless you count Spike . . ." said Angel.

Connor considered this for a second. "Right. You're a Vampire too. So, what? Did you? What's the word?"

"Sire. The word's sire. And the short version is - no, he didn't," said Spike. He glanced at Angel who gave him a grateful nod.

Maybe we're going to get away with this after all, Angel thought. Maybe Connor doesn't need to know.

Connor interrupted Angel's thoughts, hopping on one leg to try to dress himself beneath the sheet. "Right. So you guys, like, fight crime and save the world here, that sort of stuff?"

"Well, that's the idea," Angel, smiled at the contortions his son was performing in an attempt to retain some semblance of modesty in front of Fred.

"Wow. Is everyone here a superhero? This place must be insane." Connor released the sheet. His boxer briefs were in place, inside-out and backwards, the label proudly proclaiming their origins from Champion.

Angel chuckled at the sight. "It's mostly para-legals, scientists and secretaries. Pretty boring, really," he said, repressing the laughter that threatened again.

"Boring? You're finding this boring?" Gunn's voice cut through the mirth. "Haven't you heard a word I said to you? This . . ."

"Not now, Charles," pleaded Fred. "We should talk about this later."

Gunn stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Why not now? Do you know what's happening? What we're facing?" He got up from his chair and stood over her, glaring. "You don't know anything about this. You don't understand what's at stake. You need to know. Everyone needs to know. We can't fight it alone." Gunn turned to Angel "You said we were going to . . ."

"I know. And we will. Just not yet. Not until . . ." Angel searched for an excuse.

"Not until Wes gets here," Spike finished for him

"Wes is here," said a quiet voice from the corridor.

Still holding his shotgun in one hand, Wesley shoved a figure through the door with the other. "This," he snapped icily, "has the answers to many of our questions." He threw the man further into the room, causing him to stumble against the desk and onto the floor.

The man turned a face sporting recent injuries to the others, who were gazing in astonishment at Wesley's dramatic entrance. "Well, well, well, just look at the great big happy extended family gathered in my honour," he smirked, slowly picking himself up. "Though, by the looks of things, not so much happy, but definitely extended."

"Wes?" Angel looked at Wesley for an explanation.

"Allow me to introduce Ethan Rayne," said Wesley. "Known to us all as Eden Kane, the . . ."

"Trustee I met the other day," said Connor.

"Pop singer from the 60s. Purveyor of the sort of music I should have eaten him for inflicting on the public," added Spike, simultaneously. "I knew the name didn't match this face." He growled quietly and stood beside Ethan, their faces mere inches apart. "I know you from somewhere else, don't I?" he asked threateningly.

"Don't believe I've had the – pleasure," croaked Ethan, as Spike slipped into game face and grabbed him by the throat. "I'm sure I would have remembered if we had," he gasped. Spike hauled Ethan into the air and held his struggling form as he clutched at Spike's hands and fought for breath.

"Much as I hate to interrupt your reunion with Ethan," Wesley said. "We need him in one piece if we're to get the information he will provide."

Spike reluctantly released Ethan onto the floor and dropped back into his human features. "Pity, I would have really enjoyed squeezing the information out before choking the life out of him."

Angel checked Connor's face to judge his reaction to what had just happened and was relieved to see curiosity rather than disgust or horror.

"So, is Ethan a demon?" asked Connor, prodding the prone figure on the floor with his foot.

"Not a demon, but a worshipper of chaos. Someone who delights in causing trouble and walking away from the consequences," replied Wesley.

"Giles!" exclaimed Spike, clicking his fingers.

Angel swung his head towards the door. "Giles is here?" he asked.

"No, not here, you great lummox. Giles, and the Fyarl demon. That's where I heard all about Ethan Rayne."

"Ethan and Giles with a Fyarl demon?" Angel turned back to Spike. "I didn't know Giles – you know – consorted with demons. Was this in an alternative reality?"

Spike shook his head impatiently and began to gabble. "Giles was a Fyarl demon. Buffy almost killed him. I helped – not to kill him," he added hastily. "You see . . ."

Wesley cleared his throat. "Do you think this might wait for another time?" he asked, patiently. "Because we have more pressing matters to attend to. Ethan has a very interesting story to tell us. Don't you Ethan?" Wesley pointed his shotgun at Ethan's head. "Remember what we discussed at that disgustingly opulent apartment you were given for your part in this little plan? Don't think that just because there is a child present, or that there are human witnesses whose conscience might force them to report a killing to the police, that I won't go through with it. After all, I might end up in prison, but you'd still be very dead."

Fred watched in horror as Wesley hauled Ethan to his feet and struck him across the head with the butt of the shotgun. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a scream.

" Aargh," yelled Ethan, clutching his head. "There was no need for that. I said I'd tell you all I know. Not that I know very much, other than what I told you at the flat."

"Why am I inclined to believe that you were lying?" asked Wesley, grabbing Ethan by the front of his shirt and pulling him close. "Perhaps it's because your reputation doesn't include a can-be-trusted recommendation. Now," he pushed Ethan into the desk chair and aimed the shotgun into his face, "start singing. And make sure I like the tune."

Angel placed a restraining hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Er, Wes, shouldn't we wait for Lorne to get here before he sings?"

"I wasn't really expecting him to burst into song." Wesley turned to Angel and considered for a moment. "But, now that you mention it, that's a very good idea. Where is Lorne?"

"On his way in," replied Angel. "Nursing a hangover from Hell, by the sound of it. Vegas didn't agree with him. He should be here any minute."