Part 4

Once Connor had helped him to his room with his bags, Angel collapsed onto the bed and looked up expectantly at his son. Connor was pacing, his earlier elation at seeing Angel alive had given way to other feelings, feelings that tied his head and heart in knots.

"You know, I'd really like to punch you right now," he said out of the blue, startling Angel. "But I won't, you're human, and my fist would more than likely go right through you."

They both shuddered at the memory of when his fist had done exactly that, only to a being far less fragile than Angel.

"Why?" Angel spoke hoarsely, he hadn't expected the anger, although he wasn't sure why.

"I could ask you the same thing?" Connor shot back. "Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

"I thought it was for the best." Angel replied quietly.

"The best for who?" Connor faced Angel for the first time, and Angel gasped at the pain in the boys face.

"I…"

"Everything fell apart, and you weren't there, but I didn't blame you because I thought you were dead, but you weren't! You were alive and you didn't tell me!"

Angel got the strangest sense of déjà vu; for the second time that day, someone was yelling at him for keeping secrets. He hung his head, and for the second time that day, he wanted to find a deep hole and crawl into it.

"It's all gone you know.." Connor continued in a quieter tone. When Angel looked up at him he spoke again, "The Reillys, that life, it's all gone. Oh they're alive, they just don't know who I am anymore."

"What…?"

"After I came to see you, when you were fighting that tall guy, the one you bit."

"Hamilton." Angel said quietly and Connor nodded.

"I knew, I knew that the fight was gonna be huge and you weren't coming back. So I went to my girlfriend's that night, I didn't want to be alone, and the next morning I wake up because she's screaming that she doesn't know who I am. Says she's going to call the police! Date rape! We'd been a couple since junior year! But it was all fake! And now she doesn't remember! I went home and they attacked me! They thought I was an intruder! That entire life has gone! My college fund, my academic record, everyone I ever knew! Poof, nothing!" Connor was breathing heavily, the stress and pain of the last few months etched in every feature. Angel's heart broke for his son, he looked so much like he had after his returned from Quar-toth, only less feral.

"The only people who know who I am are those I met after the spell! The only things on record for me are things that I did since May 2003! The only money I have is in the fund I suddenly found myself able to access after I thought you'd died!"

"I wanted you to be looked after, if I…"

"I didn't need your money! I needed… I didn't have a single person who knew me! No one could tell me why this had happened! I had to find all that out by myself!"

"I'm sorry." And he meant it. Angel had truly believed his son was better off thinking him dead. That it would sever the last ties the boy had, to the world that had almost destroyed him. Connor sighed and came to sit next to Angel on the large and reasonably clean motel bed, and buried his head in his hands, his fingers clutching at his still slightly long hair.

Clearing his throat in effort to shift the lump that was clogging it, Angel glanced over at his distressed son.

"What happened after that?"

"I took the money and ran. I needed to start again, so I went to New York and transferred to NYU. I had my transcripts, so they took me."

"You said you'd found out why?"

"I know a little, I went looking for information, and it sorta found me."

"Huh?"

"Lorne."

Angel blinked in surprise; he had no idea Lorne was in New York. That he had helped Connor was a shock. To be honest, the last time he'd spoken to Lorne about the boy, long before the spell, the green demon was more than a little terrified of his renegade son. Seeing Angel's surprise and confusion, Connor chuckled.

"I'd given up looking, and I went into a bar, a demon bar, it was called Pietas, I thought it was ironic."

Angel snorted, ironic, yeah that was true. Pietas, Compassion, the name of a demon bar. Seeing that Angel had got the translation, Connor continued.

"It was a karaoke bar." He said, knowing this would get a reaction, and Angel didn't disappoint, his head snapping up with a look of astonishment.

"Lorne started again, he said he would."

"Well he didn't know me at first, which is what I expected since…"

"Everyone who didn't know you before had forgotten." Angel finished for him.

"Yeah, so I make to back out of there, when he hits my arm, you know, like Lorne does…" Angel nodded; Lorne was always a very hands on demon. "The next thing I know he's looking at me and I know he knows who I am. Then he starts muttering about arrogant vampires and evil hell spawn, and well that was all the confirmation I needed." Connor finished with a shrug.

Angel sat in silence for a while working through things in his head, before speaking. "So the trigger is contact?"

"For those who knew me before, yeah." Connor nodded

"So why not Dawn?"

"I thought about it. Either she never knew, or it's because most of her memories are false anyway."

Angel nodded; it made sense. He doubted Dawn hadn't been aware of Connors existence before he'd changed everyone's memories, but it was more likely that the false memories were a lot harder to shift because of the nature of her existence. Angel knew all about Dawn, Buffy had told him during brief his visit to Sunnydale after Joyce's funeral. She had needed to unload her burdens, and he had been more than happy to accept that load while she grieved.

They sat in a strange silence for a while; it was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Neither quite knew what to say to the other, although they imagined conversations time and time again; now that the moment was here and the pressing issues had been covered, they were at a loss for words. Connor got up from the bed with a sigh and started to look around the room. The open curtains reminded him of details he hadn't asked about.

"So… you're human."

"Yeah." Angel replied quietly. Right now he didn't feel like a 26 year old human male, he could almost imagine very year he'd been on the earth pressing down on his shoulders. He was tired, stressed and confused; too much had happened in too short an amount of time. He found himself longing for Wesley's council; the Englishman had been capable of the kind of objectivity he had never mastered. True, Wesley's ability to look at the big picture over the people in it had cost him his son the first time, but at various points in their relationship, the man had been his best friend. Angel looked up at Connor, not sure exactly what he wanted him to say; although he half expected the young man to ask why he couldn't have waited to have him until this miraculous change in mortal status had occurred.

Connor looked Angel over, for the first time taking the time to note the differences between the three other versions of this man he knew. When he thought of Angel, there were three images that sprung to mind: the desperate, concerned face that had met him as he fell back into this world from Quar-toth. The weak and emaciated man who had been pulled from the sea, yet still possessed power and will beyond his comprehension. And finally the empty eyed suit he'd met at Wolfram and Heart. Although he could clearly picture Angelus, the illusion that they were the same man that Holtz had painted for him was shattered as soon as the caged soulless vampire had opened his mouth, or looked in his eyes. Since the spell had broken over the Reilly's, he'd come to realise that the only real father he'd ever had, was the man that was now looking up at him, at a loss for anything to say. Yet he was the one he knew the least.

So he studied him, and the differences between him and the mental pictures he had. He looked at the still pale, but healthily hued face, the thinner body, the very human way he moved, breathed, and the eyes. The eyes that had looked empty at their last meeting, were now full of life, love and a whole world of other emotions that had been closed off before, even when he'd first come back. But he found no answers to his questions by just looking, so he had to ask.

"How?"

"A prophesy. It was my reward, my redemption." There was something in Angel's tone, that made Connor quirk an eyebrow; he sounded like someone stating the party line, rather than waxing over his reward.

Angel chuckled, "Think gold watch and a good pension, only sunlight and an expiration date."

"They retired you?"

"Seems like."

" When?"

"After the big fight."

Connor frowned, by what he had seen he expected for Angel to say about a month ago. He didn't look like someone who had been living a healthy human life for the last eight months. In fact on closer inspection, he looked a little peaky? He knew the story of Darla's resurrection and how she had been very ill. Now he wondered if the same was true of Angel.

"Are you sick?"

Angel was taken aback by the question, in comparison with how he had looked two months go, he looked the paragon of health. He knew he had to get out in the sun more; he was still very pale for someone who had lived in California for the last decade, but unsurprisingly, he hadn't thought much about going out and tanning. He was feeling the strain of the last few hours, and having had very little sleep the last couple of days was surely taking its toll. But for him to look bad enough for Connor to notice was unnerving. His fatherly instinct was to shield his son from his problems, but when Angel looked up at the young man, he couldn't lie. He'd lied to too many people too often of late.

"I was."

"Was?" Connor asked with a scowl.

"My heart didn't like the change, I needed surgery, I had it a month ago."

"But you're good now?" Angel studied the boy's face, seeing the worry that Connor was trying hide, and felt an odd pang of love and dread. He didn't want his son to worry, but on the other hand, knowing that his son was worried about him gave him hope for their reconciliation.

"I'm better, it'll be while before good, but I'm a lot better than before." He responded honestly.

Connor couldn't hide his relief, no matter how hard he tried.

Much like their conversations, their goodbyes were strained and awkward. Angel couldn't help but feel that despite the tension, it had been the most civil and insightful conversation they'd ever shared. To be reunited with his son was something he hadn't even dared hope for, for a long time. They were still strangers, but they had a chance at rebuilding the relationship they both craved. Angel knew he had a lot o make up for, but Connor seemed more receptive now. His time with the Reilly's and the memories he still carried of that time seemed to have mellowed him, providing the balance against what Angel was sure were horrific memories of Quar-toth.

It was a reassurance that he had made the right decision, to give up his son to a normal life, but it didn't alleviate the guilt. Connor hadn't said it in words, but the knowledge was there all the same; his son had needed him and he hadn't been there. Well he was here now, and as long as Connor wanted him in his life, he would do anything in his power to remain there.

That might be easier said than done with his son so obviously falling in love with Dawn. Buffy had made her feelings about his deception quite clear, he didn't think Dawn would let her sister decide who she could date, but if Buffy chose to be difficult, he would back off. He knew better than anyone how it felt to be pulled away from the one you loved because their loved ones didn't approve. If the only way Buffy would approve was to sweep Connor's paternity under the rug, then so be it.

Angel leapt from the bed and paced. No, since when had he reverted to a whipped puppy? He'd grown out of that a long time ago. He would not kowtow, Connor was his son, he wouldn't give him up again for the world. Buffy had every right to be angry with him, but he wouldn't let her control his life and who he saw. Angel's anger at himself grew at the thought. He'd reverted to old habits, bowed to her wishes with out a second thought.

He was past that, he'd let her have complete control over his life in that last year in Sunnydale. He'd grown totally dependant on her, lived his life through her, and in so doing had got them both into the habit. Truth be told he'd always had a tiny but powerful blonde girl telling him what to do, but he'd lead an independent life for nearly 6 years and he wasn't about to give it up. Buffy had every right to be mad at him, but he wouldn't separate himself from his friends, his family.

But he knew why he'd left, why he had fallen back on bad habits. Fear, when she had raised that photo frame he'd been afraid. He saw it in her face, that she'd forgotten his humanity, and she had every intention of causing him physical harm. Not that he would have tolerated her raising her hand to him had he still been a vampire, but a slayer against a human were really bad odds. It was a shocking feeling, to be afraid of the one you love. She'd only ever raised her hand to him once, during that awful visit when she was following Faith. But he'd listened to talk about the violence of her relationship with Spike. He knew all the reasons she had, but there was a part of him that had reared its head when she grabbed the photo frame. as much as his heart rebelled against the thought of Buffy as an abuser, she said it herself that she had been with Spike. Spike had been in her heart, and he hoped he was still there too, so where did that leave him?

He continued to pace, he hadn't lost sight of the fact that he was in the wrong, or that she hadn't lashed out in the end. He should have told her about Connor when he had the chance, and she shouldn't have lost it so badly, not that he blamed her for her feelings.

Despite all his internal musings on the topic, he knew he wouldn't go back tonight. He needed to clear his head. With Dawn and Connor there, he was sure the place was bedlam. Once the others found out about Connor, which the surely would, he wasn't sure he'd be welcome there at all, at least not for a while. He would go back and explain his side, but not tonight. The room was too small and his frustration grew; he needed to calm down and think clearly. And being stuck in a tiny motel room wasn't helping. But where once he would just walk for hours, he knew he couldn't do that either, pacing for 15 minutes had him worn out.

Glancing out of the window, he stopped. Something his mother said, so very long ago, suddenly sounded in his head and he grabbed his jacket and his room key.

'Who else better to ask for guidance, than the one who knows everything?'

Tbc