"Dawn in L.A." – chapter 5
Thanks reviewers. I appreciate all your feedback as I'm still struggling to turn out this story. Sometimes the fics come easily. This one doesn't. Your kind words give me the desire to keep on.
They entered the Hyperion from the rear door, the one that opened out onto the garden. Dawn had to park a block away and this was the nearest entrance to the hotel. Connor looked around at the lush plantings and shady nooks of the garden space and at the covered patio in front of the door. A slight movement in the deepest shadow beneath the awning caught his attention. Connor's eyes adjusted to the dimness and he saw a large man in dark clothes rise to his feet from his seat on a bench. For just a moment their eyes caught and held, blue eyes to deep brown, exchanging some type of primal recognition, then the mood was broken as Dawn spoke.
"Angel," she said brightly and nervously. "Hey."
"Dawn." The man's tone was measured and low but with a harsh edge that bordered on murderous. "What have you done?"
"I can explain," she began, but he spoke right over her.
"What have you told him?" He glowered at the pair of them from under heavy, beetled brows, his mouth drawn into a grim, straight line.
Connor didn't like being spoken about as if he weren't there and he opened his mouth to make a comment but suddenly found himself mute. The realization that this might be his real father, if everything Dawn had told him was actually true, slammed home with the intensity of a freight train. He found he could only gape like a wordless idiot.
"Some stuff. Not everything," Dawn answered. "I thought it would be easier for him to believe if he saw you and...."
Again Angel's voice cut like a whip crack. "You thought? Obviously you weren't thinking at all or you never would have interfered like this." He took another step toward them but stopped short of the sunlight. Connor studied his features minutely, waiting for a repeat of that tingle of recognition or for some repressed memory to stir within him, but nothing happened. No rush of familial affection awoke in Connor the way it did when he thought of his own father. This hulking man remained a stranger.
Unsure of the appropriate manners for the situation, Connor relied on his upbringing. He stuck out his hand. "My name's Connor." Angel didn't step forward to take it but dipped his head in acknowledgement of the words.
"I'm...." he hesitated, "Angel." There was a moment of awkward silence, which was broken by Angel's cell phone ringing. He quickly pulled it from an inside pocket. "Just a minute," he excused himself before answering. "Yeah?"
The cryptic, one-sided conversation that followed was fascinating. "How long ago? Uh-huh. What's the body count? Did you send...? Good. What part of the city is going to be affected?" There was a long pause.
Connor stole a glance at Dawn, who was shifting nervously from foot to foot but managed to give him an encouraging smile as she muttered, "He's always dealing with business stuff."
"Look, Wes, if you can handle this one on your own I'd appreciate it," Angel said. "I'm kind of," he looked at Connor, "dealing with something here. Great. Keep me informed and I'll be in to help you as soon as possible." He snapped the phone shut without a goodbye. He gazed at Connor then glared at Dawn again. "Why don't you come in?" he suggested, turning and leading the way through the ornate door.
As he crossed the threshold and took in the antique splendor of the Hyperion's lobby, Connor experienced another wave of displacement. This place looked familiar. Then didn't ... then did again. He frowned and concentrated as the sensation swept over him. He looked to the ornate front desk absolutely knowing that he would see a skinny, brown haired woman there, but instead a small blonde came barreling from the office behind the desk and flew toward them, yelling at the top of her voice.
"Dawn, this is totally unacceptable! You can't just take off like that and think that it's all right. And then to call and TELL me you're going to be out all night! There are ... rules and, uh, curfews, and you are so grounded, young lady!"
To Connor there was something comfortingly familiar about the sibling animosity that shook him from that awful feeling of surrealism. He totally understood bickering sisters. He heard them all the time at home.
The petite woman halted in front of them and her stream of words stopped when she registered Connor trailing behind Dawn and Angel. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Dawn, what have you done!"
Dawn's voice took on the immediate defensiveness of a younger sister. "Buffy, he had the right to know the truth! And it's a good thing I got there to talk to him because he's been having all sorts of vamps and demons attacking and no one to explain what they were." She spoke with a smug assurance she hadn't displayed once in her conversations with Connor. "I did the right thing," she insisted, crossing her arms and jutting out her jaw.
"It wasn't your choice to make," Angel growled adopting a similar stance, as he stared Dawn down, eviscerating her with his eyes.
Again Connor had the feeling of being simply a prop in their three-person play. The antagonism and accusation flying around the room created enough tension to power a city. "Uh, excuse me," he raised his hand to get their attention. "Do you have a restroom? It was a long drive and, uh...."
Dawn, Angel and Buffy all turned to stare at him as if he were a pet dog, which had suddenly learned how to speak.
"Of course," Buffy finally said. "Right over here." She led the way across the lobby, and Connor could hear Angel and Dawn behind him already fighting again in fierce whispered bursts. They didn't realize he had extraordinarily excellent hearing.
"What did you tell him about me and Darla?" Angel asked.
"Nothing. I left that part for you."
"And what does he know about the spell? And about Cordelia and Jasmine?"
"Parts of it. Look, the whole thing is kind of long and confusing for anyone to accept all at once. If you'll just calm down, I'll tell you everything that I told him and then you can figure out how to explain the rest," Dawn hissed.
"I can't believe you did this," was the last thing Connor heard before he entered the bathroom. He leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror for a long moment trying to figure out who the person he saw really was. He splashed water on his face and patted it dry with a towel, and then leaned against the wall, in no hurry to join the arguing strangers out in the lobby. He was beginning to seriously regret his decision to come here today.
As long as he was in the bathroom, Connor decided to take a leak before facing the nutcases again. Afterward, he washed his hands and stared at the ancient battle axe affixed to the wall, trying to decide if it was artwork or weapon. Finally, he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer and he walked back out into the lobby in time to hear Buffy say, "...and Hart did a crappy job on the mojo. I'd say all bets are off if you want to get out of your deal with them. They didn't fulfill their end of the bargain."
"I don't know that I want to get out of the deal," Angel responded. "We've been able to do a lot of good since we took over Wolfram and Hart. It's given us resources that we never would have...." he trailed off as he saw Connor.
Buffy was shaking her head and didn't notice. "I still think you're making a big mistake. You don't lay down in a bed of manure and wake up smelling like roses."
"There's something creepy about that place," Dawn agreed. "I feel it every time I walk in."
The girls noticed the direction of Angel's gaze at the same time and cut their arguments short.
"Look, Angel," Dawn said. "I know you've got tons more yelling at me to do, but could we please have some lunch before we get into any more of this? I'm sure Connor is starving too." She looked at him for support and he nodded.
"I wouldn't mind a sandwich or something," he said.
"I'll call the deli," Buffy agreed.
"We actually do have a fully stocked kitchen," Angel reminded her.
"Do YOU want to make lunch?" she asked, as she walked over to the phone to place the order.
Angel shrugged and turned his attention back to Connor. He couldn't seem to take his eyes away and it was starting to make Connor extremely uncomfortable.
"So ... how is your, uh, family?" Angel asked.
"Fine. Fine," Connor nodded. "My sister, Meghan fell off her bike and sprained her wrist but otherwise...." He looked around the room a little, anything to get away from the intensity of Angel's stare.
"That's good," Angel replied. "I mean, not the sprained wrist, but the, ah, rest of it. Do you ... get along with your parents?"
"Sure. I mean, they're parents, what can you say? I'm eighteen and my mom still thinks I'm eight sometimes but other than that...." He shrugged and struggled to think of something else to add. "I'm going to U.S.C. in fall."
"Really?" Angel managed to sound disappointed with one word.
Connor looked at him sharply. "It's a good school."
"Oh, of course. Sure. I didn't say it wasn't," Angel hedged.
"What about you?" Connor turned the tables and began grilling him. "Dawn says you used to run a private investigation firm that helped people with paranormal problems but now you've sold out and are C.E.O. of an evil law firm."
"That about covers it," Angel said dryly, giving Dawn yet another glare.
"How's that going for you?" Connor asked blandly, fixing Angel with icy eyes.
"It's complicated, but I think we're making some real headway in changing how things are done there."
"Did you ever read 'The Devil and Daniel Webster'?" Connor simply asked with a raised brow.
"Yes," Angel snapped with a frown.
"Food's coming," Buffy announced from over by the phone. "Let's all sit down and talk while we wait." She gestured toward Angel's office.
Dawn and Connor followed Buffy inside and found a pair of chairs to sit in. Buffy perched on the edge of Angel's desk. Angel went straight for his massive chair on the far side of the desk, distancing himself. Suddenly everything felt stiff and formal and no one was speaking.
"All right," Buffy finally prompted, "Connor, you must have a lot of questions."
"Well," Connor began thoughtfully, "first of all I have to say that I still have a hard time believing that any of this is true. I'm not saying I do believe it, but I'm willing to listen because after the weird things that have been happening lately ... nothing's impossible."
"What kind of 'things'?" Buffy asked curiously.
"A couple of weeks ago I, uh, killed a ... I guess it was a vampire." Connor had trouble spitting the word out it sounded so ridiculous. "And last night Dawn and I were walking in the park and I was attacked by a...." He couldn't remember the name.
"Dracon," Dawn supplied promptly. "He took it out in less than three minutes," she added proudly. "He may not remember who he is, but he's still got the skills."
Buffy and Angel both looked at him with interest. Connor was embarrassed.
"Anyway," he said, trying to put the questions back on them. "I wondered, if he's supposedly my father," he gestured at Angel, "what happened to my mother in this alternate world?"
Angel finally spoke. "She died giving birth to you," he said quietly.
"Oh," Connor tried to feel something about that, but it held no more meaning to him than if it had happened to a character in a story. There was a long pause then he continued.
"And I get that I was supposed to have had some kind of mental breakdown but wouldn't therapy have been a more reasonable option than creating a whole imaginary life?" Connor infused the words with a teasing sarcasm that bordered on sounding bitter.
Both Buffy and Dawn looked at Angel as if they'd been wondering the very same thing. He squirmed a little under their combined gazes and tried to explain.
"You don't understand. You don't what it was like here last year; the pressures and the escalating disasters. Every time I tried to reach Connor, to talk to him or to heal things between us, something else would happen and things would get even worse. At the end...." he trailed off and they waited so long for the rest of his thought that Connor began to wonder if he would ever say anything.
"At the end," he looked directly in Connor's eyes for the first time. "You were miserable. I've never seen such despair in my whole life and I've lived a hell of a long time." Connor wondered what that meant since his 'father' barely looked old enough to have conceived him at age twelve.
Angel sighed. "Or maybe I have," he admitted, "but it's different when it's your own child in pain." He leaned forward and spoke sincerely. "I just wanted to save you and give you a happy, normal life, and when Wolfram and Hart gave me this opportunity...."
"Whoa!" Connor interrupted. "The satanic law firm?" He turned to Dawn. "You didn't tell me that! You just said it was powerful people."
"They're pretty powerful," Dawn said with a sheepish grimace and a shrug.
"So I was the price for your deal with the devil," Connor said.
"No! It wasn't like that," Angel exclaimed. "I didn't sell you for power. I accepted the position to SAVE you."
"Either way," Connor shook his head, "you made the deal. And that never ends well."
"You don't understand," Angel reiterated in a mutter.
"Whatever," Connor tried to change the subject, "next question. What are your superpowers?"
"My...? I don't have any ... well, all right, I have, but I'm not a superhero or something." Angel sounded flustered. "I mean, I do have extra strength and speed and hearing and great night vision, but there are also the drawbacks."
"Which would be...?"
"No sunlight," Dawn replied quickly then looked like she wanted to clap her hand over her mouth.
"Why 'no sunlight'?" Connor asked, looking at her strangely, and then a thought suddenly occurred to him and he looked back at Angel with wide eyes. Everyone was silent for a moment.
"No. No way," Connor whispered his denial as he continued to stare at Angel, who shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
"There are a few ... details that Dawn left out of the story which you should probably know," he said. "Your birth was kind of ... a miracle, something which shouldn't have been possible yet it happened." He paused before dropping the anvil. "Your mother, Darla, was a vampire ... and so am I." Into the long silence that followed, Angel cast another explanatory pebble, "But I'm not evil. I have a soul."
'Vampires. Evil. Miracle. Soul.' The words swirled around in Connor's brain until they carried no more meaning than a child's nonsense syllables. He thought absently that he should be more upset than he was, but since the whole thing seemed like a comic book plot it was hard to take it seriously. He had an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing but was afraid if he did it would turn into hysterics.
Suddenly he felt warm fingers cover his own. He glanced down to see Dawn's slender, beringed hand covering his. He glanced up at her eyes and she smiled encouragingly.
"I can't believe this," he said to her almost confidingly. "I won't."
"You have to," she replied, still offering that half smile but with infinitely sad eyes. She turned to Angel. "Show him," she demanded.
Angel frowned.
"Go ahead," Buffy agreed solemnly, nodding at Angel.
Connor watched as with a long-suffering sigh, Angel complied with their wishes. His face shifted and changed, making that same squelching tissue, grinding bone sound that Connor had heard the night he face the vampire girl on the beach. The result was a Halloween mask of ridged brow and yellow cat eyes, lips drawn back slightly to reveal oversized, pointed canines. Connor's heart pounded in his chest and every instinct told him to run or to kill.
"I can't ... I can't hear any more of this," he muttered as he jumped to his feet and turned to leave the office, tripping over the leg of his chair and knocking it askew as he went for the door.
"Connor. Wait," he heard Dawn call, but he was already halfway across the lobby.
To be continued....
Thanks reviewers. I appreciate all your feedback as I'm still struggling to turn out this story. Sometimes the fics come easily. This one doesn't. Your kind words give me the desire to keep on.
They entered the Hyperion from the rear door, the one that opened out onto the garden. Dawn had to park a block away and this was the nearest entrance to the hotel. Connor looked around at the lush plantings and shady nooks of the garden space and at the covered patio in front of the door. A slight movement in the deepest shadow beneath the awning caught his attention. Connor's eyes adjusted to the dimness and he saw a large man in dark clothes rise to his feet from his seat on a bench. For just a moment their eyes caught and held, blue eyes to deep brown, exchanging some type of primal recognition, then the mood was broken as Dawn spoke.
"Angel," she said brightly and nervously. "Hey."
"Dawn." The man's tone was measured and low but with a harsh edge that bordered on murderous. "What have you done?"
"I can explain," she began, but he spoke right over her.
"What have you told him?" He glowered at the pair of them from under heavy, beetled brows, his mouth drawn into a grim, straight line.
Connor didn't like being spoken about as if he weren't there and he opened his mouth to make a comment but suddenly found himself mute. The realization that this might be his real father, if everything Dawn had told him was actually true, slammed home with the intensity of a freight train. He found he could only gape like a wordless idiot.
"Some stuff. Not everything," Dawn answered. "I thought it would be easier for him to believe if he saw you and...."
Again Angel's voice cut like a whip crack. "You thought? Obviously you weren't thinking at all or you never would have interfered like this." He took another step toward them but stopped short of the sunlight. Connor studied his features minutely, waiting for a repeat of that tingle of recognition or for some repressed memory to stir within him, but nothing happened. No rush of familial affection awoke in Connor the way it did when he thought of his own father. This hulking man remained a stranger.
Unsure of the appropriate manners for the situation, Connor relied on his upbringing. He stuck out his hand. "My name's Connor." Angel didn't step forward to take it but dipped his head in acknowledgement of the words.
"I'm...." he hesitated, "Angel." There was a moment of awkward silence, which was broken by Angel's cell phone ringing. He quickly pulled it from an inside pocket. "Just a minute," he excused himself before answering. "Yeah?"
The cryptic, one-sided conversation that followed was fascinating. "How long ago? Uh-huh. What's the body count? Did you send...? Good. What part of the city is going to be affected?" There was a long pause.
Connor stole a glance at Dawn, who was shifting nervously from foot to foot but managed to give him an encouraging smile as she muttered, "He's always dealing with business stuff."
"Look, Wes, if you can handle this one on your own I'd appreciate it," Angel said. "I'm kind of," he looked at Connor, "dealing with something here. Great. Keep me informed and I'll be in to help you as soon as possible." He snapped the phone shut without a goodbye. He gazed at Connor then glared at Dawn again. "Why don't you come in?" he suggested, turning and leading the way through the ornate door.
As he crossed the threshold and took in the antique splendor of the Hyperion's lobby, Connor experienced another wave of displacement. This place looked familiar. Then didn't ... then did again. He frowned and concentrated as the sensation swept over him. He looked to the ornate front desk absolutely knowing that he would see a skinny, brown haired woman there, but instead a small blonde came barreling from the office behind the desk and flew toward them, yelling at the top of her voice.
"Dawn, this is totally unacceptable! You can't just take off like that and think that it's all right. And then to call and TELL me you're going to be out all night! There are ... rules and, uh, curfews, and you are so grounded, young lady!"
To Connor there was something comfortingly familiar about the sibling animosity that shook him from that awful feeling of surrealism. He totally understood bickering sisters. He heard them all the time at home.
The petite woman halted in front of them and her stream of words stopped when she registered Connor trailing behind Dawn and Angel. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Dawn, what have you done!"
Dawn's voice took on the immediate defensiveness of a younger sister. "Buffy, he had the right to know the truth! And it's a good thing I got there to talk to him because he's been having all sorts of vamps and demons attacking and no one to explain what they were." She spoke with a smug assurance she hadn't displayed once in her conversations with Connor. "I did the right thing," she insisted, crossing her arms and jutting out her jaw.
"It wasn't your choice to make," Angel growled adopting a similar stance, as he stared Dawn down, eviscerating her with his eyes.
Again Connor had the feeling of being simply a prop in their three-person play. The antagonism and accusation flying around the room created enough tension to power a city. "Uh, excuse me," he raised his hand to get their attention. "Do you have a restroom? It was a long drive and, uh...."
Dawn, Angel and Buffy all turned to stare at him as if he were a pet dog, which had suddenly learned how to speak.
"Of course," Buffy finally said. "Right over here." She led the way across the lobby, and Connor could hear Angel and Dawn behind him already fighting again in fierce whispered bursts. They didn't realize he had extraordinarily excellent hearing.
"What did you tell him about me and Darla?" Angel asked.
"Nothing. I left that part for you."
"And what does he know about the spell? And about Cordelia and Jasmine?"
"Parts of it. Look, the whole thing is kind of long and confusing for anyone to accept all at once. If you'll just calm down, I'll tell you everything that I told him and then you can figure out how to explain the rest," Dawn hissed.
"I can't believe you did this," was the last thing Connor heard before he entered the bathroom. He leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror for a long moment trying to figure out who the person he saw really was. He splashed water on his face and patted it dry with a towel, and then leaned against the wall, in no hurry to join the arguing strangers out in the lobby. He was beginning to seriously regret his decision to come here today.
As long as he was in the bathroom, Connor decided to take a leak before facing the nutcases again. Afterward, he washed his hands and stared at the ancient battle axe affixed to the wall, trying to decide if it was artwork or weapon. Finally, he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer and he walked back out into the lobby in time to hear Buffy say, "...and Hart did a crappy job on the mojo. I'd say all bets are off if you want to get out of your deal with them. They didn't fulfill their end of the bargain."
"I don't know that I want to get out of the deal," Angel responded. "We've been able to do a lot of good since we took over Wolfram and Hart. It's given us resources that we never would have...." he trailed off as he saw Connor.
Buffy was shaking her head and didn't notice. "I still think you're making a big mistake. You don't lay down in a bed of manure and wake up smelling like roses."
"There's something creepy about that place," Dawn agreed. "I feel it every time I walk in."
The girls noticed the direction of Angel's gaze at the same time and cut their arguments short.
"Look, Angel," Dawn said. "I know you've got tons more yelling at me to do, but could we please have some lunch before we get into any more of this? I'm sure Connor is starving too." She looked at him for support and he nodded.
"I wouldn't mind a sandwich or something," he said.
"I'll call the deli," Buffy agreed.
"We actually do have a fully stocked kitchen," Angel reminded her.
"Do YOU want to make lunch?" she asked, as she walked over to the phone to place the order.
Angel shrugged and turned his attention back to Connor. He couldn't seem to take his eyes away and it was starting to make Connor extremely uncomfortable.
"So ... how is your, uh, family?" Angel asked.
"Fine. Fine," Connor nodded. "My sister, Meghan fell off her bike and sprained her wrist but otherwise...." He looked around the room a little, anything to get away from the intensity of Angel's stare.
"That's good," Angel replied. "I mean, not the sprained wrist, but the, ah, rest of it. Do you ... get along with your parents?"
"Sure. I mean, they're parents, what can you say? I'm eighteen and my mom still thinks I'm eight sometimes but other than that...." He shrugged and struggled to think of something else to add. "I'm going to U.S.C. in fall."
"Really?" Angel managed to sound disappointed with one word.
Connor looked at him sharply. "It's a good school."
"Oh, of course. Sure. I didn't say it wasn't," Angel hedged.
"What about you?" Connor turned the tables and began grilling him. "Dawn says you used to run a private investigation firm that helped people with paranormal problems but now you've sold out and are C.E.O. of an evil law firm."
"That about covers it," Angel said dryly, giving Dawn yet another glare.
"How's that going for you?" Connor asked blandly, fixing Angel with icy eyes.
"It's complicated, but I think we're making some real headway in changing how things are done there."
"Did you ever read 'The Devil and Daniel Webster'?" Connor simply asked with a raised brow.
"Yes," Angel snapped with a frown.
"Food's coming," Buffy announced from over by the phone. "Let's all sit down and talk while we wait." She gestured toward Angel's office.
Dawn and Connor followed Buffy inside and found a pair of chairs to sit in. Buffy perched on the edge of Angel's desk. Angel went straight for his massive chair on the far side of the desk, distancing himself. Suddenly everything felt stiff and formal and no one was speaking.
"All right," Buffy finally prompted, "Connor, you must have a lot of questions."
"Well," Connor began thoughtfully, "first of all I have to say that I still have a hard time believing that any of this is true. I'm not saying I do believe it, but I'm willing to listen because after the weird things that have been happening lately ... nothing's impossible."
"What kind of 'things'?" Buffy asked curiously.
"A couple of weeks ago I, uh, killed a ... I guess it was a vampire." Connor had trouble spitting the word out it sounded so ridiculous. "And last night Dawn and I were walking in the park and I was attacked by a...." He couldn't remember the name.
"Dracon," Dawn supplied promptly. "He took it out in less than three minutes," she added proudly. "He may not remember who he is, but he's still got the skills."
Buffy and Angel both looked at him with interest. Connor was embarrassed.
"Anyway," he said, trying to put the questions back on them. "I wondered, if he's supposedly my father," he gestured at Angel, "what happened to my mother in this alternate world?"
Angel finally spoke. "She died giving birth to you," he said quietly.
"Oh," Connor tried to feel something about that, but it held no more meaning to him than if it had happened to a character in a story. There was a long pause then he continued.
"And I get that I was supposed to have had some kind of mental breakdown but wouldn't therapy have been a more reasonable option than creating a whole imaginary life?" Connor infused the words with a teasing sarcasm that bordered on sounding bitter.
Both Buffy and Dawn looked at Angel as if they'd been wondering the very same thing. He squirmed a little under their combined gazes and tried to explain.
"You don't understand. You don't what it was like here last year; the pressures and the escalating disasters. Every time I tried to reach Connor, to talk to him or to heal things between us, something else would happen and things would get even worse. At the end...." he trailed off and they waited so long for the rest of his thought that Connor began to wonder if he would ever say anything.
"At the end," he looked directly in Connor's eyes for the first time. "You were miserable. I've never seen such despair in my whole life and I've lived a hell of a long time." Connor wondered what that meant since his 'father' barely looked old enough to have conceived him at age twelve.
Angel sighed. "Or maybe I have," he admitted, "but it's different when it's your own child in pain." He leaned forward and spoke sincerely. "I just wanted to save you and give you a happy, normal life, and when Wolfram and Hart gave me this opportunity...."
"Whoa!" Connor interrupted. "The satanic law firm?" He turned to Dawn. "You didn't tell me that! You just said it was powerful people."
"They're pretty powerful," Dawn said with a sheepish grimace and a shrug.
"So I was the price for your deal with the devil," Connor said.
"No! It wasn't like that," Angel exclaimed. "I didn't sell you for power. I accepted the position to SAVE you."
"Either way," Connor shook his head, "you made the deal. And that never ends well."
"You don't understand," Angel reiterated in a mutter.
"Whatever," Connor tried to change the subject, "next question. What are your superpowers?"
"My...? I don't have any ... well, all right, I have, but I'm not a superhero or something." Angel sounded flustered. "I mean, I do have extra strength and speed and hearing and great night vision, but there are also the drawbacks."
"Which would be...?"
"No sunlight," Dawn replied quickly then looked like she wanted to clap her hand over her mouth.
"Why 'no sunlight'?" Connor asked, looking at her strangely, and then a thought suddenly occurred to him and he looked back at Angel with wide eyes. Everyone was silent for a moment.
"No. No way," Connor whispered his denial as he continued to stare at Angel, who shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
"There are a few ... details that Dawn left out of the story which you should probably know," he said. "Your birth was kind of ... a miracle, something which shouldn't have been possible yet it happened." He paused before dropping the anvil. "Your mother, Darla, was a vampire ... and so am I." Into the long silence that followed, Angel cast another explanatory pebble, "But I'm not evil. I have a soul."
'Vampires. Evil. Miracle. Soul.' The words swirled around in Connor's brain until they carried no more meaning than a child's nonsense syllables. He thought absently that he should be more upset than he was, but since the whole thing seemed like a comic book plot it was hard to take it seriously. He had an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing but was afraid if he did it would turn into hysterics.
Suddenly he felt warm fingers cover his own. He glanced down to see Dawn's slender, beringed hand covering his. He glanced up at her eyes and she smiled encouragingly.
"I can't believe this," he said to her almost confidingly. "I won't."
"You have to," she replied, still offering that half smile but with infinitely sad eyes. She turned to Angel. "Show him," she demanded.
Angel frowned.
"Go ahead," Buffy agreed solemnly, nodding at Angel.
Connor watched as with a long-suffering sigh, Angel complied with their wishes. His face shifted and changed, making that same squelching tissue, grinding bone sound that Connor had heard the night he face the vampire girl on the beach. The result was a Halloween mask of ridged brow and yellow cat eyes, lips drawn back slightly to reveal oversized, pointed canines. Connor's heart pounded in his chest and every instinct told him to run or to kill.
"I can't ... I can't hear any more of this," he muttered as he jumped to his feet and turned to leave the office, tripping over the leg of his chair and knocking it askew as he went for the door.
"Connor. Wait," he heard Dawn call, but he was already halfway across the lobby.
To be continued....