CHAPTER TWO

Buffy woke disoriented. It took a few long moments for her to put it together where she was. No sunlight streamed through her curtains and she had no idea what time it was. The bed was too warm and comfortable for her to want to worm her way free but she forced herself up. It was daylight after all, she discovered looking out the window at the morning drizzle. She stumbled down the hall to the bathroom and tried to wake up to the piney scents of the soap provided for her.

After getting dressed, she caught scent of breakfast and let it lure her down the stairs. Shea was in the kitchen wearing bright surgical scrubs. She smiled at Buffy. "I timed it right, easy to do with all the groaning the old pipes in this place do. Did you sleep well?"

Buffy nodded. "Better than I thought. You didn't have to cook me breakfast, Shea. I can fend for myself."

"Nonsense. You're a guest here." Shea set a plate on the table then got a tea cup out and pulled the towel off a bowl of bread. "I have to go work with the wee man so the only company you'll have is a ragged old cat if you see him. His name is Shadow. You'll know him when you see him. Elf is probably around, too. She's a skinny little feline."

Shea left Buffy with her breakfast. Buffy could only stare at it for a moment unprepared for the sheer amount of food. Two eggs shone up like twin suns surrounded by sausages, two slabs of ham, grilled tomatoes and two round pieces of something Buffy couldn't identify, one black and the other a greyish-white. She picked up a hunk of brown bread and spread the butter over it before using it to break a yolk. She savored the richness of the bread as she poured tea for herself, dolloping in cream and sugar. It had been a long time since she had sat down to something this delicious, not since her mom died.

Buffy allowed herself to miss Joyce for a few moments. A sound broke her out of her reverie. An enormous black cat sauntered in. He sat next to her chair, gazing up at her with golden eyes. "You must be Shadow."

"He's a shameless beggar," Angel said, peeking around the kitchen door, assessing how far into the room he could get.

"Well, Shea made enough food for an army," Buffy said, gesturing to the plate.

"That's a traditional Irish breakfast. You need strength to face our weather," Angel assured her. "Eat, enjoy. Don't give the cat too much bacon."

Buffy looked at her plate in a panic. She couldn't possibly eat more than what was already on the plate and she hadn't spotted bacon. "I don't see any bacon. Is it hiding under the ham?"

"That ham is Irish bacon," he replied.

"And this." Buffy pointed to the black roundel. "Is it what I think it is?"

He grinned. "It's black pudding."

"Get it off my plate, please." She held it out to him and Angel plucked the blood sausage off. He bit into it, obviously enjoying it. Buffy shuddered.

Angel raised an eyebrow. "I am a vampire, after all."

She stuck out her tongue. "I know but there's something even grosser about it all cooked up."

"That's because you're American." Angel waved her off. "Blood sausages are popular all over Europe. Didn't you ever see sanguinacci while you were in Italy?"

Buffy's eyes turned into round marbles. "That's blood sausage? I'm so glad I never ate that. It looked gross."

"In some areas of Italy, they even add candied citron, pine nuts, walnuts, sugar, and chocolate." Angel's eyes gleamed greedily. "It's so sweet and others smother it with sweet cream."

"You're ruining my appetite," she warned. "Just eat your sausage and hush. What's the white thing?"

He took another bite. "White pudding."

Buffy's brow knit. "That's not helpful."

Angel gave her the same look Joyce used to when it came to convincing her to eat her Brussel Sprouts. "Beef suet, oatmeal and maybe some garlic and barley."

"Suet, that's fat right?" she asked and he nodded. She tossed the white pudding to Shadow and the cat dug in. "You're up early." Buffy glanced toward the door, hearing someone coming in and wheels rolling along the flooring.

"They're taking Connor to the hospital."

Buffy's head snapped up, breakfast forgotten. "What happened?"

Angel held up a hand, popping the last of the sausage into his mouth. "He's fine. They're taking out the trach tube and the fixators. His ribs are all healed and his legs are almost repaired. He's getting better."

Buffy reached for the tea she had transformed into a confection more so than a beverage. "I'm so glad."

Angel nodded, his eyes suddenly turning misty. "It's all I've wanted since it happened." He brushed at his face. "Do you think it's wrong, to let the lie go? About the mall, I mean. Wolfram and Hart spun a story about the bomber dying."

"Do you honestly believe Connor was insane at the time?" Buffy countered.

Angel didn't even hesitate. "He had to kill his own child, Buffy. He was torn apart with grief. If I know anything, it was he was mad at the time of the bombing."

Buffy regarded her plate of food. "We haven't re-incarcerated Faith, and we know she willingly killed those people. Willow murdered someone in her grief and we've forgiven her that." Buffy shrugged. "Maybe both of those things were wrong. Maybe we should have punished Xander for summoning Sweet and all the people who died as a result but we didn't. Andrew helped kidnap, rape and murder a girl. Hell, he tried to kill me, Xander, and Dawn at some point and yet we've done nothing to him. I'm not sure there's anyone outside of Dawn who doesn't have innocent blood on their hands." She sipped the tea, thinking maybe she herself killed a few of those monks tossing them off the RV.

She puffed at a stray strand of hair hanging in her face. "I guess I'm saying, I don't think it's wrong. Or maybe it is but the way our lives are, the things we have to do, things no one else can do, we're needed more here in the world than we are behind bars." She frowned. "Did I just say that the rules don't apply to us?"

"Sort of but there is a twisted truth to it. It's not like most of us wanted to hurt anyone nor would we have if we had been thinking straight. I did my best to put Faith back on track, to let her find her way to help the world instead of hurting it. I can't do less for my son." Angel sounded so desperate that Buffy wondered who he was trying to convince, her or himself. "It was my fault, Buffy. If I hadn't messed up so badly with him, it would never have come to this."

Buffy said nothing to that. She knew Angel well enough to know he'd take the blame even if he wasn't responsible. He was like Marley dragging around chains, some he didn't even earn. Maybe he had messed up. She had no way of knowing. "Truth is, we'll be the only ones who know what Connor did, or Faith or Willow."

Angel nodded as Shadow wound between his legs, rubbing on his calves, purring loud enough for Buffy to hear. "I'm going underground. I need to get to the hospital. There won't be windows in the recovery room, and I don't want Connor to wake up from surgery alone."

"Can you get there safely?" she asked, sampling the grilled tomatoes.

"Not easily but it can be done." Angel reached down and scratched Shadow's head. "I go every time they take him in for tests."

"I'll go with you." Her eyes met his. "If you want me to."

The look of appreciation on his face told her all she needed to know. "Finish eating." He gestured to the meal. "We have time. And thank you."

Buffy finished the heavy breakfast and almost wished she hadn't or at least wished she had gone the normal, human way to the hospital. The stink of the underground pathways tied her gut into knots. She thought she'd be used to it after so many years as the Slayer but she wasn't sure she could ever get used to it. What was Angel thinking, with his superior senses, in a place like this or did he just not breathe? No air in meant no scent, right? She didn't dare open her mouth and ask. She just concentrated on doing as little breathing as possible as she followed him.

Shea met them at the hospital and informed them that Connor was still in surgery. She left them in the waiting room. Buffy followed in Angel's wake as he paced around. She hated hospitals. She wondered if he knew that.

"Does Shea work here?"

He shook his head. "She does private nursing but she always comes with Connor."

"I hate hospitals," she announced, dropping into one of the uncomfortable orange chairs in the waiting area. "I've spent too much time in them."

He came to roost next to her. "I know." His big hand covered hers. "That's what makes you coming with me even more important to me."

She smiled at him. "I'm glad to do it."

Angel's hands did their typical 'I don't know what to do with them dance' as he squirmed around nervously. "Talk to me," he instructed. "About anything so I don't think about what they're doing to my son in there."

"How does it feel to be home, Angel? I mean, this is home, isn't it?" She knew he was from Ireland, of course, but she couldn't remember if he ever told her where exactly. It made sense he'd want to come home but then again maybe he was here because this was where Giles had arranged for help for him.

"It's home. Mostly, it feels like a place I've never been and yet at the same time, there is a feeling of homecoming." He moved his hand off hers. "It's hard to describe. I came here hoping to heal myself, as much as for Connor and it's finally working."

"It's beautiful here," she said and meant it.

He smiled faintly. "You're getting to see the world, hunting down all those new Slayers."

She nodded. "Mostly Willow, Xander, Dawn, and Giles are doing the hunting. Faith and I are doing training and handling the big problems. It was getting so hard...I ruined a lot of girls' lives, Angel. I took away their nice normal lives." Buffy shuddered. She tried not to think about that. It hurt too much realizing the enormity of her actions, all the ramifications that had yet to be fully realized.

"You did what you had to. Sometimes that's harder than we're ready for. Think of it this way, maybe the balance has been tipped. Just one Slayer, easy as she was to avoid if you had a brain in your head, was enough to scare most demons. Imagine what an army of Slayers can do, the fear they can instill," Angel said, looking nervous at the idea.

Buffy thought about it and laughed softly. "You were really afraid of Slayers?"

He looked embarrassed. "Wary. Angelus had too much..."

"Brass balls?" she interjected.

He snorted. "Exactly, to be afraid. But I was smart enough to make sure I was nowhere near the Slayer." A smile slide across his face.

It mystified Buffy. "What?"

"I was just remembering telling Spike about the Slayers. It was like telling your kids about the bogey man and that idiot immediately set out to find the Slayer, which at the time I thought, by all means go. With any luck, she'll dust you and I'll get Dru another play toy." He seemed to relish the idea and Buffy realized just how long the antagonism between the two souled vampires had existed.

Buffy looked away, her hands knotting over her knees. She took a deep breath in. "Angel, about Spike..."

"You don't have to tell me anything about that, Buffy. You had your reasons. I don't really want to know about them. Does that make me selfish? I don't know. I know I hate the idea of you two and I'd rather not know more than I already do, unless you really need help with it," he said, his eyes hot on her. "All I'll say on the matter is Spike is obsessive. I know him. I made him into the creature that he is. He's quick to tell anyone that. He was the closest thing I had to a son until Connor. I know what he's like and how he treats women. Maybe the soul will make a difference. I don't know the kind of man he was before we made him into a monster."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't expecting him to say anything like that. She was prepared for another twelve year old snit or display of rage. "I never thought about it that way. I did think that he was trying to become you to make me care for him. I guess getting a soul would count as an obsession. But in the end, he didn't believe that I did care for him."

"He believed you. He told me. I've spoken to him...it's rather easier on the phone than in person. We aren't tempted to hit each other this way," Angel admitted. "He knew he was going to die. He didn't want you heartbroken over it."

"I don't even want to know what you're thinking about all of this." She bit the inside of her lip, trying to rein in her emotions. Did it change anything knowing Spike did believe her? Did it make her a bad person if the answer was no; that she liked it better the other way because it was easier?

"I haven't thought much about it. I've poured everything I had into taking care of Connor. I can't live your life for you, Buffy. You know how I feel. I'll own up to being a jealous man. You already know that." He seemed keenly disappointed in himself having that flaw. "I try to control it. That's what I'm doing now but in the end, I can't control how you feel. I can't force you to chose between us or chose neither of us...or both."

"Both?" She blinked.

"You would not be the first woman we've shared," he said bluntly without apology nor with any enthusiasm for trying to do so again should she want that. "Sometimes the sharing isn't equal and it causes fights but we've done it."

"That's why Spike sided with me against you when you were Angelus," she said, trying not to think about what it was like to share two men. Did that have any appeal to her?

He snorted. "I'm not surprised. I was rubbing it in pretty hard that Dru was mine first, his second. He loved her, Buffy, he really did and he was just as obsessive with her. I don't need to tell you that. You've seen it."

She nodded. This was far too hard. She didn't want to think about it. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this now...here."

Angel put up his hands. "I've said all I really intend to. Spike and I won't be getting any older, Buffy. We have all the time in the world to wait...in theory."

"But even undead hearts move on," she said, thinking about how Spike talked about Fred.

"Sometimes yes," Angel said and she wondered if he meant himself or Spike. Given what he had been doing the last few months, he could only mean Shea if he referred to himself. She couldn't picture Angel and the Watcher. Maybe it was just metaphorical or did he know something about Spike she didn't? That was entirely possible. He leaned forward, looking down the hall. "How long can it take to remove all that hardware?"

"It's not something you want them rushing through," she told him gently.

He sat back, looking unhappy with that reality.

"Is there anything I can get you, Angel? There's probably some bad coffee in a vending machine," Buffy said, uncomfortable with the silence but she had no idea what exactly to say.

He shook his head. "Just being here is enough. I know you don't have to be."

"Maybe not but I want to be. I want to help. It's what friends do." Buffy looked at him willing him to believe that. How often had he tried to help her and she push him away? Maybe he thought they weren't even friends any more. Of course, he'd have to discount the last Hellmouth kiss and the one yesterday.

Angel said nothing, just slumped in his seat more. She took his cool hand, marveling at how big it was, how lost hers looked in it. It was then she realized he was wearing his claddagh. Had he ever taken it off? She didn't remember seeing it the last time she saw him. Maybe he had dusted it off when he came to Ireland. Her finger brushed it and he looked at her. He said nothing but there was a question in his eyes.

"I lost mine when Sunnydale fell into a smoking pit," she said, feeling more regret than she expected.

His fingers interlaced with hers. "You lost everything, that's an incredible thing to try to get over, Buffy. You had everything stripped away, right down to your mother's grave. I'm sorry you had to go through something like that."

"I've been angry for so long at you for not trying to at least call me," she admitted. "I didn't know then what you've been going through. I can understand now but I've been furious for weeks that you didn't check up on me."

"What are you talking about?" Angel's fingers fell from hers as he sat upright. "I called you in Rome several times. Someone named Andrew kept answering. At first he told me that you were busy and you'd call me back. Finally he just said you didn't want to talk to me, that you'd moved on and I needed to do that, too, and quit calling."

Buffy curled her fingers on the arms of the chair, taking deep calming breaths. "I should have killed him back in Sunnydale. It's not what you're thinking, Angel. He and I never..."

"I never thought that," Angel interrupted. "There was just something in his voice, something that set my teeth on edge but I knew, never, you and he, never."

"Andrew's the one I was just telling you about." She briefly entertained the idea of pulping him.

His eyebrows raised. "The rapist kidnapper murderer?"

"Yeah, the wanna-be-Watcher. I'm not sure how I got elected to have him around. I'm sorry, Angel. I had no idea you had even called. He and Xander...well, if Andrew got along with anyone, it was Xander and you know how Xander felt about you. It hasn't changed," Buffy said regretfully. "I can only imagine Andrew envisioned himself saving me from you."

"All I really wanted was to see how you were and to tell you about my ...well, maybe not over the phone but it would have been nice to talk to someone who understood me," Angel said, the pain in his voice crystallizing into something hard and sharp.

"I'm sorry, Angel. If I had known..." What would she have done? Yelled at him for not giving her the space she asked for even though she knew all she wanted was to know he was still concerned for her? Run immediately from Rome to his side? Shown Andrew what it really meant to piss off a Slayer?

"Angel." Shea's voice cut off anything more they had to say to each other and Buffy could almost kiss her for it. She wasn't ready for so much emotional trauma. The last few months of finding Slayers had left her pleasantly numb, if occasionally lonely and disheartened, and she wasn't ready for what the last thirty-six odd hours had dealt her.

"Is he out of surgery?" Angel got up before Shea could answer.

The nurse just waved him on. Angel didn't need to be told the way to the recovery room. Buffy trailed along behind him, wishing she knew if he wanted to be alone with his son or would he want her with him. She decided to follow and if it looked like Angel needed to be alone she could always step out. That was better than him thinking she didn't care.

Somehow Connor looked even smaller lying there on the bed, covered only with a thin, white blanket. For the first time she could see his face fully, without that horrible thing taped over his mouth. He had such perfectly bowed lips, nothing at all like the manly slash of lips his father had. He looked even less like he could possibly be related to Angel. But the way Angel stroked his son's cheek, looked at him with so much love Buffy didn't think the recovery room was big enough to hold it all, she knew the father-son bond was there.

"Hi, Connor. How do you feel?" Angel asked softly, his hand cupping the young man's chin.

Connor just looked at him then his head fell to the side, his gaze unfocused. Buffy saw the light in Angel's eyes dim. She knew he was hoping to hear Connor say something, wanting it too much and now that he didn't get it, a fresh wound had been torn into him.

"I know you're probably in a lot of pain but that'll go away now that those awful pins are out of your legs. I bet your mouth is dry but it'll feel a lot better soon. Can you talk to me, son?" Angel held Connor's hand.

Buffy saw no signs that Connor was even listening to Angel. Angel dropped his son's hand and smoothed his hair.

"That's okay, Connor. You just rest and they'll take you home soon," Angel said and Buffy heard his voice breaking, thick with emotion. Angel turned on his heel and brushed past her and Shea. The nurse called his name but he didn't stop. Buffy went after him. She caught his hand and he pulled free roughly.

"Angel, stop. Talk to me," she ordered, not going to let him walk away.

He whirled on her, his eyes hot. "About what?"

"I know you wanted to hear him talk to you, Angel but maybe he's just too groggy from all the anesthesia and everything. Give him time," Buffy said but saw in that instant she should have stayed behind with Shea. Angel wasn't in the mood to listen to reason.

"Or maybe there's nothing left of him and the only thing I've done is saved his shell, condemned him to a life worse than death," Angel spat. "Maybe the only thing he has left to look forward to is a long life of pissing into that tube and crapping in a diaper while I feed him through a tube while he gets bedsores and pneumonia's from just lying there." His jaw clenched. "Maybe I should have let him die."

"And maybe you should just give him some time, Angel. I'm not even sure that people can talk so soon after getting a tube pulled out of their throat," she said gently. Buffy wanted to tell him it would be all right but she couldn't.

"And you'd know that how? Find time to finish that medical degree somewhere along the line," he snarled, whipping back around, stalking down the hall.

"Angel!" She trembled slightly, unprepared for the anger.

He turned just long enough to hold up a warning hand then continued on his way. Stunned by the sudden change in him, Buffy just let him go. Suddenly she was aware of how cold the hospital really was.

"I know it's cold comfort but his temper's been like that since he got here," Shea said, sounding unfazed by Angel's display of fury.

Buffy turned, looking at her with watery eyes. She realized the Watcher had to have heard it all. "That cruel?"

"Crueler sometimes since he was so often drunk and blaming himself for everything. I've spent a lot of time cleaning up his messes and kicking his dumb arse around. Jaysus, he can be an idiot some times," Shea said.

Buffy tried to imagine what Shea had been putting up with and decided she didn't want to know. "But he might also be right about Connor."

Shea shrugged. "Possibly but do you really think that he is?"

Buffy spread her hands. "I don't know. I've only seen Connor twice but I thought he liked me reading to him. I thought I saw a change in his face but maybe that's just because I wanted to believe that. Maybe I was fooling myself...maybe Angel was doing the same thing."

"Maybe but mostly Angel's feeling sorry for himself. If he comes home, pissed and stinking, I'm sending you to kick his arse," she said, sounding tired of the vampire. Buffy wondered if Shea was afraid all the time with Angel in her house.

"Gladly." Buffy's face went grim. "Your sons were coming today, weren't they? Maybe you should cancel, with Angel in this mood. I mean, that's why they're really at their grandmother, isn't it?"

"Yes and no. They've been about some evenings when Angel's been gone and they like spending time with Connor. They've yet to meet Angel. I thought it better that way. However, my sons can set vampires on fire. It was one of the first spells we taught them," Shea said. "Angel will probably mope underground the rest of the day and go out all night to the pubs." Shea put a hand on Buffy's arm. "Did you drive here?"

She shook her head. "I don't really drive."

"I'll drive you home once our wee man is ready to go. Come on, we can sit with him even if his father can't."

Buffy nodded, following Shea back to the recovery room. She didn't know whether to be angry with Angel or to pity him. She decided to do both.