Part 5

Buffy stood staring at the remnants of the photo frame lying on the floor, her eyes flicked up at the slight dent in the wall which was at exactly the place angel's head would have been, if he'd been standing only slightly to the left when she'd thrown it. She wasn't sure how long ago that had been. It could have been mere moments or hours. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the floor in a heap, she felt sick, she felt like she needed to kill something. She was too angry to cry, the rage that had suffused her system had lessened, but she still practically shook with it. What was it with the men in her life betraying her? Did she have gullible tattooed to her forehead or something?

She could hear Angel moving around in his room, but she didn't regret telling him to leave, she wanted him gone, away from her sight as soon as humanly possible, or else she wouldn't be held responsible for her actions. When, a little while later, she heard the front door open and close, and a car pull out of the driveway, another realisation hit her. The house was empty; Angel, Dawn and Angel's Hell spawn had left. Not that she cared that his son had left, but that Dawn had taken his side hurt, hurt more than she could imagine. Was this how her father felt when her mother walked out, with her and Dawn in tow?

She blinked at her own thoughts, but it wasn't such a strange analogy when it came to her and Angel. God, they were twisted. What had she ever done to make Angel use magic on her to cover his secrets? What had she ever done, that made him feel he had the right to that kind of violation?

Her anger returned full force, and she dealt with the only way she knew how. Grabbing a stake from her dresser, she climbed out of her window and out into the early afternoon sun. Maybe she could find a nest somewhere.

Dawn sat in the study room of the old summers house, idly flicking through a volume that had been left open on the table. She'd been back over an hour. When she'd arrived back at the house, her repeated attempts to get someone to answer the door were ignored, much to her frustration; so she'd gone around the back, found the kitchen door unlocked and gone in search of her sister.

Finding her sister's door shut and locked, she'd tried knocking and calling out, but she'd gained no response. Normally she would have persisted, but she and Buffy were too estranged now for her to push her luck, when her sister was obviously very upset. So, she was resolved to wait, either until Connor returned and they could find a place to stay (she had no intension of staying in a house where Connor might not be welcome), or for Willow to come home. Out of everybody who was living in the house that had been her home for the first 9 years of her life, Willow was the only one she could think of that could reach her sister when she was in this kind of mood. Well, there was Angel, but as he was the cause of her rage, she didn't feel like playing with fire.

Scowling she rotated the book she was looking at, trying to make sense of the image on the page, when that failed she turned it another way and her eyes widened.

"EWWWW" She screwed her face up in disgust, just as she heard someone opening the front door. Flipping the book shut and turning bright red, she called back, after they called out to see if any one was home.

"In here"

A huge smile blossomed on her face and it was reciprocated when the new arrivals stepped into the room.

"Dawnie!" Willow squealed, as Faith just nodded and smirked. Dawn gladly stepped into the hug the redhead offered, and pulled her close in return. She'd missed everyone while she'd been in New York. Willow pulled back and smiled.

"What are you doing here? Not that you're not welcome. Oh we need to make you up somewhere to sleep, coz I have your old room, you can have it back if you want…"

"Willow! I don't think I'll be staying here." Dawn said seriously, snapping Willow out f her babble.

"Coz of B?" Faith chimed in, from her spot leaning against the doorframe.

"Sorta, it's a long story,"

"What's a long story?" Came a voice from behind Faith, "And leave a brother out side why don't you?"

"Shit, sorry Gunn" Faith said spinning round, she had meant to go back out and help Gunn get his chair over the path, the crazy paving made it extremely hard work for him to wheel himself to the front door.

"Nahh, its cool, so you guys gonna introduce the cutie?"

"OH! Right, Gunn this is Dawn, Buffy's sister. Dawn this is Charles Gunn, he used to work for Angel." Willow made the introductions, while at the same time herding everyone through to the kitchen, she was hungry but she also wanted to chat to Dawn. When they got there, she started to rummage through he fridge, before faith barged her out of the way. "So Dawnie, how come you're here?"

"My boyfriend needed to pick up some stuff from an old roommate, so we both came down, I wanted to introduce him."

"Aren't you a little old for imaginary friends, squirt?" Faith said around a mouthful of left over pizza, while looking around the room with a frown.

"He's real," Dawn huffed back, then paused, she didn't really want to tell the others where he was or why, that was his story to tell, or Angel's. "He's ahh…"

Just then the doorbell rang and she sighed with relief, 'saved by the bell… literally.'

"That's probably him now." Spinning on her heal she rushed out of the room.

"Is it just me or is she a little twitchy?" Gunn spoke up.

No one replied, as Dawn chose that moment to re-entred the room, dragging a young man behind her.

"Everyone, this is Connor." She stated proudly, Connor just looked mildly stunned at having been grabbed by the shirt, the moment the door opened and dragged inside. Glancing around the room, he swallowed stiffly, all three of what should be new faces in the room, he knew; only they didn't know him. 'Oh this is gonna be fun.'

"Hi, I'm Gunn," the black man spoke first, extending his hand in greeting. Connor stepped back from the gesture. He'd had a long afternoon; he wasn't ready to have more people asking questions just yet. Dawn frowned at him but seeing the look in his eyes, quickly caught on. When they'd spoken earlier, he'd told her about his contact theory, and since Gunn used to work for Angel, it made sense that he would have known who Connor was. Although she was sympathetic, having a boyfriend who appeared to be rude was going to be difficult on its own, but with Buffy knowing who Connor was, it was a little late for damage control.

"Shake his hand!" she hissed as quietly as she could, knowing he would hear her. Connor went to argue, but saw the determination in her face. The whole exchange had taken a fraction of a second and just as Gunn went to lower his hand with a frown, Connor stepped forward and clasped it in his, praying that Dawn knew what she was doing. Gunn jerked back as if the touch had burnt him and then he dropped his head in his hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to ride out the barrage of images.

Dawn looked to Connor panicked, as the others in the room rushed to help Gunn; shooting the young man furious looks.

"Exactly how well did he know you?" Dawn yelped.

"He was there when I was born!" Connor hissed back. Stunned at the man's reaction to his touch, but not overly so, considering that apart from Angel and Cordelia, Gunn had had the most contact with him.

"What the hell is going on?" Willow growled, but Gunn waved her and others off. Regaining his composure, he looked up at Connor squarely; his Jaw set, his posture threatening, despite his being in a wheelchair. A part of him registered that it was a futile effort; the boy could have kicked his ass 5 ways from Sunday, even before he'd lost his legs. Connor dropped his eyes and toed the floor, not entirely sure what to say. He knew his last meeting with Gunn had been far from pleasant, and he knew now, with the influence of the false memories guiding his moral structure, rather than the values handed to him by an insane demon hunter in hell, that a lot of what he had done to Angel and his family had been beyond treacherous.

"You gonna explain how come I just remembered who you are?" Gunn gritted, he knew that what he had just experienced, was the regaining of true memories and dispelling of false ones. He wasn't sure how he knew, he just did. Years that he had thought scrambled because of the enhancements he'd received, had come rushing back, and now he found himself facing Angel's son.

"There was a spell…" Connor mumbled.

"Yeah I got that, what was it, a final gift from Jasmine?" Gunn snapped.

"NO!" Connor yelped, truly shocked by the suggestion.

"Then who?"

The others in the room watched as Connor struggled to answer. They had no idea how hard it was for him to answer this. Part of Connor, the same part that had worried over Angel's sickly appearance, didn't want to get his father into any more trouble. Connor felt a hand resting on his arm, and looked up into the concerned, but supportive eyes of his girlfriend. Dawn offered him a reassuring smile that told him all he needed to know. 'Tell them, they'll understand, I trust you,'

"Angel did it." He said quietly, gripping Dawn's hand like a lifeline.

Gunn blinked and gaped. "What?"

"He wanted me to have a new life… he didn't want me to remember…" Connor trailed off with a shrug. Gunn stared at the boy with dawning understanding. Angel always put his boy first; it shouldn't have been a surprise that he would mess with peoples heads to protect his son. An incident, involving a pentagram they never did mange to get off the floor, sprang to mind, and the last pieces of the puzzle came together.

"Wolfram and Hart, you were the deal… I always thought it was Cordy, but it was you." Connor looked back at Gunn blankly, a look that was mirrored by the other occupants of the room. Gunn whistled through his teeth and shook his head. Glancing up, he caught the looks the others were giving him and shrugged. "I never bought the evil from within story Angel fed us, I figured they made a deal, and it was for Cordy. But it wasn't, it was for Connor, Angel's kid gets a new life, Wolfram and Hart get Angel and we followed like sheep."

"Huh?" Faith said succinctly, having gotten lost around the time Gunn started glaring at Dawn's boyfriend. Willow seemed to fairing little better, she staring at Connor, Dawn and Gunn, like they were talking in riddles, her face a mixture of frustrated curiosity and down right confusion. Dawn looked back at the others in the room when faith spoke, and for the first time realised that they'd been left totally in the dark. The two men followed her look and Connor toed the carpet before speaking.

"Maybe I should…" He trailed off his hand raised as clear indication of intent.

"Whoa!" Faith reared back "No ones doing any freaky mojo on me!"

"Uh huh! What she said!" Willow replied, ignoring the incredulous look Dawn shot her.

"Ladies! Chill, its cool, and there ain't no way I'm gonna try and explain this all to y'all. Trust me, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but let the boy touch you." Gunn said, turning his chair to face the girls.

Shaking her head ruefully, Faith stepped forwards. "Tell you what Charlie boy, if he turns me into something freaky? I'm so gonna kick your ass."

Angel stood, looking up at the large doors in front of him. He could feel the differences even from outside. There was no desire to flee, no feeling of his blood trying to crawl from his veins, no weakness, no dizziness. It could be any other building in the world, yet he knew that just 12 months ago, standing where he was, would have taken a considerable amount of effort.

Despite his lack of physical resistance to entering, mentally he was not quite so prepared. He wanted solace, to beg for answers; he knew in his gut that there was no better place for him to find the peace of mind he needed to confront the problems that lay ahead. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, and entered the church.

The moment he stepped over the threshold, he let out the breath he'd been holding in a rush of relief. He wasn't sure why, but part of him had been expecting to be denied access, to be met with a threshold barrier, the likes of which, had kept him from peoples homes for more than two centuries.

It wasn't an impressive building, old by LA standards, neo gothic with traditional yet modest interior decoration; but to Angel, it may have been the Sistine chapel, for all the significance it held. As a boy his faith had been the centre of his world, as it had been for most people born when and where he had. Born and raised an Irish Roman Catholic, he had spent many hours in church. Sitting patiently waiting for his mother as she recounted her sins in confessional, Sunday morning mass with the whole family, and daily prayers in the chapel at the church school his father had sent him to, being one of the lucky ones to have a family wealthy enough to have their children educated. It was only in his late teens that he and the church fell out of favour with each other.

Life had already begun its downward slide for the adolescent Liam, and his relationship with his father had already decayed beyond repair, when after a particularly intense drinking session, he and a group of local youths had set out to break into the parish church. Disillusioned with a god that would allow his life to become what it had, he'd scoffed at the others when, after breaking in, they had fled, fearing the repercussions of such blasphemy. So he had gone on alone and had been caught, britches around his ankles, peeing behind the altar. After that he had been publicly dishonoured, barred from the church and had spent a week in the stocks. He'd been lucky his father had intervened on his behalf with the Magistrate, for if the villagers had had their way, he would have faced the gallows. He didn't step foot inside a church again, with good intent, until after the restoration of his soul. But By then it was too late, and he was forever denied the comfort of his god.

Or so he thought, but now he was human, and so far he had not been cast out of this holy place. The restoration of his soul had also restored his faith, and many a long night had been spent, debating the possibility that his turning his back on the church, had been the reason for his turning, that had he kept true to his faith, he never would have been in that alley to meet Darla. Had god punished him for his blasphemy, by making him a demon? It didn't sound that trite to a person who was raised in 18th century Ireland.

The true affirmation had come, when whistler had come to him, speaking of the powers that be. Since then, and although he had never voiced it, he had believed them and his god to be one and the same. His god had given him the chance to make amends, and although it was under the guise of another entity, he had faith. It wasn't such a stretch of the imagination, for one who had seen as much as he. It had been while he was in India, without his soul, that he had come to the realisation that all religions were the same, the people worshipped the same entities, only under different names.

Angel shook himself, he'd become lost in memories, but that wasn't why he was here. No, he had come to this place of worship to contemplate the future, to find something inside himself that would give him the strength to face the challenges ahead. Steeling himself against the universe waking up and realising he wasn't welcome, he crossed himself with holy water and took a seat in the last pew.

The familiar rhythms of the first 17 years of his life, returned like an old friend, and he found himself reciting age old Latin prayers. Closing his eyes he let the sense of peace settle over him, he was sat in a church, and he was welcome.

Tbc