"Of course you grew up in another dimension," Spike says to Connor. They are in Connor's loft. "Putting you on the earth in real time would've screwed things up with Buffy. Not to mention your mum. How does a father explain to his twelve year-old son that he's just staked mommy!"

"My father did what?"

"She was resurrected a few years after he did her in. It was Darla or Buffy, and Angel made his choice." Connor's fury grows.

"Who's Buffy?"

"Only the star Angel's life revolves around. Of course he wouldn't mention her to you. Why mess up a good thing with the truth?"

"What truth?"

"Never mind," Spike says, stringing Connor along. "I'm sure if he knew then what he knows now, he would've acted a little differently." His eyes light up. "Actually, if SHE knew now what Angel knows, I bet she'd feel very different about the old boy." He chuckles wickedly.

"My father loves Cordy."

Spike scoffs. "Maybe in the way he loves Percy, or little miss Texas, but not the way he loves Buffy. You, Angel, Cordy – you're in a love triangle without a third side. She's yours for the bloody taking. And believe me, you more than match up to her standards. She's done a LOT worse. So what if there's a few years age difference? My sire had twenty years on me. Your mum had a century-and-a-half on Angelus."

"Did you know my mother?"

"In the biblical sense? There was that one time . . . which, I'm guessing, is not wut you're asking about. We hung out for a good two decades. I was hardly her favorite, to put it mildly, but we were on speaking terms. Though we never really talked much."

"What was she like?" Spike thinks of a lot of things, none of which you want to tell a son about his mum.

"Very nurturing. She really loved your dad. Too bad the feeling wasn't mutual." Spike's head suddenly darts in another direction, as if he's seeing something that isn't there. "It's getting late, champ. I think I should be heading back."

"Wait. Take me with you. I wanna meet this Buffy."

Spike grins, chuckles and puts his right hand on Connor's left shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow." He looks around at the loft. "Nice place you got here. Too bad you have to climb seven flights of stairs to reach it."

"No you don't." Connor points to the freight elevator. Spike grimaces.

"Bloody hell!," he bangs the wall. Then he presses the button and waits a few seconds. "Sodding lift's busy. Why am I complaining? It's not like I'll be short of breath." Spike takes the stairs. The person using the elevator is Angel. Ten seconds later, the door opens. Connor glares at him.

"Connor. Thank God you're all right." Angel goes to hug him. But Connor is really not in the mood. He pushes his father to the ground.

"What do you care? I'm only family."

Angel stands up, utterly mystified. "Connor, I can explain. There was a spell."

"I'm not talking about tonight. Now get the hell out." He brandishes a bottle of water in his right hand."

"Connor, that's a bottle of Aquafina." Connor throws some in Angel's face, which burns. "Owww!," he cries out, grabbing his face. "Apparently, filled with holy water. Connor, why are you doing this to me?"

"I could do worse. You have."

"I know what you saw. But I didn't hurt Cordy. I didn't hurt anyone. And I'm all better now."

"Didn't hurt anyone," Connor fumes, working himself to a boil. "Didn't hurt anyone. Didn't hurt anyone!" He hurls some more water, which Angel blocks with his hands. Connor grabs the injured Angel and throws him down a flight of stairs. "You never wanted me. You never wanted mom. You never wanted Cordy. You're nothing but a cheater and a liar."

"Connor, what is this about? You've never acted . . . quite this way." There was something different about his current patricidal rage.

"Why don't you go ask Buffy?" Connor slams the door. Now this, Angel had not been expecting. Back home, he tries to sort through matters with Wes, Lorne, Gunn and Fred. His face and hands are still burnt from the holy water.

"I've never seen him like that."

"You've never seen Connor mad at ya?," Fred asks incredulously.

"You've never seen him wanna hurt you?," Lorne adds.

"This was different. The look on his face; the tone in his voice; it's like he thinks I betrayed him somehow."

"You did," Wesley states, feeling uncomfortable talking about betrayal with Angel. "Unwittingly. And ridiculously anachronistically. But, nonetheless, to Connor, Buffy is the Other Woman."

"That is ridiculous. I haven't even talked to her since Connor was born."

"You killed the woman who gave him life."

"And if I hadn't, Darla couldn't have been resurrected as a human, and Connor would've never been born!"

"The boy does seem impervious to irony," Lorne points out.

"Where did Connor get the idea his mother was so wonderful?," Gunn asks. "I'm sure Holtz wasn't too crazy about her."

"People feel an instinctive attraction to their mothers," Lorne offers. "I don't. But I hear it's widespread among you humans."

"Someone dies so you can live," Fred says. "That's gotta mean something."

"It is Holtz," Wesley argues to the surprise of everyone. "He knew Angelus and Darla as a couple. In the eighteenth century, and in the twenty-first. He probably thought you two were always together. So that's probably the idea Connor grew up with."

"Children hate divorce," Fred adds. "Even if it's cause one parent's evil and the other's not. And even if they ain't parents yet."

"It's more than that. He was also ranting and raving about Cordy. Hey, where is she?"

"She said something about not being able to bear staying here," Lorne responds.

"Don't worry. She's probably with Connor," Wesley theorizes.

"At least that means he'll stay in LA," Angel says with resignation.

"Whadya mean by that, chief?," Lorne asks.

"Spike's obviously trying to use Connor."

"One of your enemies using your own son against you," Lorne comments. "The more things change . . . "

"He's using her against Buffy."

Spike's walks into Xander's apartment. Buffy is waiting for him. She doesn't look happy. "So where were you tonight?," Buffy asks pointedly.

"Around. I met some people. I talked. Didn't kill anyone, if that's what you're asking." He walks into his room.

"Didn't need to," The First, dressed up as Drusilla, tells him with a smile. "Our little birdie will see that's awl taken care of. Little parrot. Says wut he's told. Believes wut he hears. My perrrfect vessel."