Part 6

Buffy stalked the tunnels below the city like the predator she was. Anger fuelled her, made her fists itch for the feel of flesh on flesh. The slayer in her was screaming for the kill, primal and base, it made her skin feel tight and her jaw clench. She'd been walking for quite awhile, but as yet had not come across a single demon. Well, except one, but even through the red haze of rage, she could tell it was about as harmful as a puppy, and had swiftly moved on, before the temptation to kill it anyway got the better of her.

All the while, as she walked, her mind whirled with the events of the afternoon and their implications. The sense of betrayal seemed to have wrapped itself around her heart like an insidious serpent, squeezing all the charity and compassion from her as the seconds ticked by. Why? Why had he done this thing to her? Why had he lied? Why had he raped her mind? Why was it always like this between them? Once, just once, she wanted things to be easy between her and Angel, was that too much to hope for?

Of course it was, and she couldn't even blame the Powers, or fate, or destiny or any of the other outside forces she'd blamed in the past. Because it wasn't them, but HIM. He had done this; he had thrown their love away again. She'd bared her soul to him, and he mocked that ultimate trust by lying to her.

A son, Angel had a son. A child he'd had with another woman, with Darla. Darla of all people! The vapid, vampire whore, who'd tried to kill her, and her loved ones. Who'd terrorised Sunnydale before she arrived, and the rest of the world for four hundred years before she'd been born.

A well-known sensation trickled down her spine, and an evil grin spread across her face. When the vampire turned the corner, it didn't even get a chance to express its surprise, before it was set upon by a royally pissed off slayer.

He wouldn't have called it brooding, but it was certainly deep contemplation. Angel sat quietly at the back of the church, his mind going a mile a minute. His prayers before had had one very clear theme: forgiveness, most notably, Buffy's forgiveness. Could she forgive this time? 'You've pulled some crap in your time Angel, but this really takes the piss,' Angel chuckled bitterly at how true that statement really was.

A lot of the pain he'd caused in their relationship, was either beyond his control (Angelus) or done with the best intentions at heart (leaving her). Neither the lack of soul, or his overactive martyr complex could be used as excuses this time. He had wronged her, knowingly, if not deliberately. With every missed opportunity to share this deepest of secrets, he had hammered another nail into the coffin of their fledgling romance. His only hope now was that he could find a way to pry open that coffin, and rescue their love, before it was dead and buried.

The snort of derision that issued forth at that morbid analogy echoed loudly in the cavernous church. Sometimes, he really wondered if he was human at all, when his thoughts could turn so graphically dark so very easily. With a sigh, he turned his thoughts back to the matter at hand, how to salvage his relationship with Buffy. Buffy, gods, he loved her so much, had always loved her, would never stop. But somehow he always seemed to be able to mess it up. Why? Why couldn't he, just once, do something right? Why hadn't he trusted her with the knowledge of his son's existence? Why hadn't he continued his story when the time had been right? What was he so very afraid of?

Angel lifted his eyes to the large crucifix above the altar. Well, he didn't fear that now, but now as he stared at it, he found it brought no answers to the questions that plagued him.

"I guess Mother was wrong, you don't have all the answers." He whispered morosely.

"Maybe you're asking the wrong questions?" Angel jumped at the voice that came from behind him, and turned in alarm to the speaker. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Angel looked up into a pair on kind blue eyes, set into an even kinder looking face. His eyes flicked to the dog collar and cassock. He dropped his gaze completely, scared that perhaps the priest had come to extricate him from the church, that he was not as welcome as he had assumed. The priest offered him a small smile, and came around to sit beside him in the pew.

"Do you mind?" The father said, indicating the space at Angel's side. Angel frowned but shook his head, and the priest sat extending a hand. "Father O'Neil."

"Angel," Angel replied quietly, shaking the man's hand, before facing forward again.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I often find that those who spend five hours sat at the back of the church, are either deeply troubled, or in need of a place to stay out of the cold." There was small pause before the father continued, "And by your earlier statement, I assume it's the former."

"Hmmm," Angel's response was noncommittal, he was unsure how to talk to this man, the last priest he'd talked to had called him an abomination after seeing his hands burn when they came in contact with a cross.

"Perhaps I can help you find the right questions to ask?" Angel turned his head to look at the priest once more. He was in his late forties by the look of things, receding white hair, and prominent laughter lines. He spoke with the barest hint of an Irish accent, and Angel found himself compelled to trust him. "Matters of the heart are always tricky in my experience."

Angel jerked back in shock at the astute comment, and the priest chuckled.

"Call it an educated guess, you have that look."

"Oh." Was all Angel could think to say in response.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Angel spoke, as if the man's presence pulled the words from him against his own will.

"I hid something from my girlfriend, and now she's found out, I don't know if she can forgive me."

"I take it she took the news badly."

Angel let out a wry chuckle. "She threw stuff at me."

"Ah," There was pause, "Was she wrong to be upset?"

"No," Angel said quickly, that was an easy question to answer.

"This thing you hid, is that what upset her? Or that you hid it from her?"

"A little of both I should think," Angel let out a long sigh, "I wanted to tell her, I just didn't know how."

"What were you afraid of?"

"I wasn't…" Angel trailed off, hearing the lie before it was even completed. "I didn't want to loose her."

"Yet by hiding it from her, you've lost her anyway?"

"I don't know, maybe, she's… upset right now."

"As are you."

"It's… complicated." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the priest nod sagely.

There was another long pause, and once gain, Angel found himself bearing his soul before this man he didn't even know, as if against his conscious will.

"I have a son, his mother… she was a… rival I suppose is the right word… She died… my son… he went to live with another family… I never expected… I didn't see the need…"

"Which do you think your girlfriend objects to most? The child's existence, his mother or your deceit?"

"Does it matter?" Angel asked incredulously

"I think its rather the crux of it actually. The child is without fault, her own feelings about the boy's mother are HER issues, but your deceit is yours"

Angel nodded, what the priest had said was true. "Buffy… My girlfriend, and I were together in the past… before I had my son… one of the reasons we parted was because I couldn't have children…"

"From your tone, I take it that the decision to leave was yours, not hers?" Angel merely nodded. "Hmmm, well that certainly does make things messy."

Angel snorted.

"Sorry, not helpful."

"I don't know what to do."

"Well the best I can advise, is that you talk to her, when you're both calmer." Father O'Neil glanced and his watched and let out a surprised 'hmpf' "Please excuse me but it's nearly time for mass, I wish you luck with your young lady."

"Mass?" Angel frowned; it must have been nearing midnight if he had really been there for 5 hours.

"Our congregation is very fond of their Sunday mornings. They prefer a midnight mass on a Saturday." The priest chuckled, "I know for a fact that most of what I hear in the confessional, happens after the younger ones leave here to go to the clubs on Saturday nights."

Angel looked at him incredulously, causing the priest to laugh again.

"Please excuse me, I really should go, Mrs Hernandez will have my head if we start late. But please, feel free to stay for the service."

"Thank you, Father." The priest nodded and patted Angel affectionately on the shoulder. They both knew Angel had been thanking him for more than just the invitation to stay for the service.

Angel didn't return to his thoughts after the priest disappeared, instead he watched as people began to filter into the church. He watched with interest as they chatted, and greeted each other. He smiled at the sight of young children being dragged reluctantly to their seats, not really understanding why they couldn't run around with their friends and explore this interesting building; it was reassuring that some things never really changed. He had to do a double take at the outfits some of the older teenagers were wearing; it certainly added credence to the father's theory about their post mass activities.

Soon enough everyone was in their seats, and the familiar rhythms began again. Angel settled back into the old familiarity and found himself enjoying it. He listened raptly to the sermon, impressed at Father O'Neil command over his audience. Maybe he hadn't found the answers he was looking for, but he felt a little more confident to approach the questions.

Punch, Kick, Duck, Kick, Kick, Punch, Block…

There were four of them.

Punch, Thrust, Whoosh

Make that three. Not very old, but old enough to not be fledglings anymore. Fat and strong off LA's homeless. Buffy had heard their celebratory revelling as they ambled through the sewers, long before they sensed her presence. They were just what she was looking for, and she threw herself into the fray. She was playing with them, letting them close then dancing away, leaving painful injuries in her wake.

With each bow she dealt out, she felt her anger release and the red haze that had fogged her mind ease away. It was zen like how her mind could slip away as her body moved in the age old rhythms. It wasn't exactly habit, more like a deep part of who she was. She could no more change the way she slayed, than Angel could suddenly become 'Mr hey, here's what I'm thinking'… Buffy stopped dead as the thought slammed into her mind, along with all its implications. Angel had spent the better part of his souled existence with no one else to trust other than himself. He was taciturn because he didn't know how to interact. Long exposure to people had started to rid him of his reticence, but he still struggled to communicate his feelings, or expose vulnerable parts of himself. Angel had once told her that the truth was sometimes worse, at the time it had seemed like such a cop out. But she was older now, and now she could hear the implication behind the words. The truth was sometimes worse, not just for the ones hearing it, but for those saying it. It hadn't been an act of deliberate callous deception, when he neglected to tell her, but one of fearful hesitance.

Her train of thought was abruptly cut short when a fist collided with her jaw. In the mere seconds her mind had been overwhelmed by clarity, the remaining vampires had regrouped and surged in for an attack. The force of the blow sent her reeling, and she collided with the course sewer wall. Her head connected with the brickwork, and her vision swam, but she righted herself with renewed vigour. When the vampires closed in around her, she met them with a steely gaze.

"Can we hurry this up please?"

"Getting tired slayer?" One taunted back causing Buffy to huff.

"Hardly, I just have better things to do right now." 'Yeah like getting home to Angel, and maybe sorting this mess out.'

"Fighting us is the last thing you'll ever do, Slayer." Another spouted cockily.

Buffy just rolled her eyes and launched herself at the nearest vampire, mumbling under her breath, "Now where have I heard that before?"

The silence in the sitting room of the old Summer's house was oppressive. Willow and Faith sat on one couch, Gunn in his chair off to the side, and all three were facing Connor and Dawn, who were sat on the opposite couch. After Faith had shaken off the effects of Connor's touch, she'd taken a minute to gape, then hurried Willow forward, unwilling to try and explain things herself, and knowing that Willow would need to see to believe the story anyway.

That had been half an hour ago. Once Willow too had had the effects of Wolfram and Hart's spell reversed, they moved to the sitting room, and Connor had haltingly told the story as he knew it. He had to acknowledge that the motivations behind the spell, the exact deal Angel had struck, (if there even was one, he didn't know,) were subjects he was clueless on. Gunn had filled in the bits and pieces he knew from the whole Connor - Angel saga, including the full story (as he knew it) of Connor's birth and abduction. He refused to touch on the boy's conception, and they had both acknowledged that some questions only Angel could answer.

Now the group had lapsed into an odd silence, the story coming to an abrupt end with Connor's depiction of Angel actually killing him to put the spell in effect.

"Whoa," Faith finally broke the silence. "No wonder Angel looked stressed."

Willow nodded in agreement; they had both only seen a small snippet of the life Angel had erased, Faith's a little longer than Willow's.

"You… Right the way through…" Gunn mimed punching something very hard, a clear attempt to reenact Connor's defeat of Jasmine. Connor nodded and Gunn shook his head. "Damn!"

The room elapsed into silence once more, the occupants each deep in thought. Willow frowned, then looked up and around the room, finally settling her gaze on Dawn.

"Where are Buffy and Angel?"

Now it was Dawn's turn to frown, she hadn't thought about her sister since her aborted effort to communicate with her earlier that afternoon. At least she knew where Angel was.

"Buffy's in the process of having a breakdown, I think, and Angel's at a motel a few block away." Gunn, Willow and Faith all stared at the young brunette, their faces masks of incredulity. Seeing their looks, she quickly tried to explain. "Buffy threw a hissy fit when she found out about Connor and locked herself in her room, Angel decided to give her some space, so he asked us to take him to a motel."

"B… But…" Willow stuttered. Angel wasn't in her good books right now, it was true that she had plans to have strong words with the ex-vampire about using magic on people's minds. (Willow had long ago convinced herself that the spell she placed on Tara, had been the beginning of the end for her happiness, and the catalyst for the events that resulted in the death of her lover.) Nevertheless, Angel was far from well enough to be on his own, especially if he was upset. Glancing at her companions, she saw they were in a similar frame of mind, as they all turned angry glares on the young couple in front of them. She was tempted to give the younger Summers sister a good tongue lashing for her thoughtlessness, when her thoughts turned to someone else who should have stopped Angel leaving, Buffy. As she concentrated on the blond slayer, it came as a startling revelation that she could not sense the slayers uniquely powerful aura in the house. Buffy wasn't there.

Tbc