Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon - I'm just borrowing them. The title and lyrics are from the Evanescence song, Everybody's Fool.

Notes: Set during Season 4. Maybe Darla wasn't the only person who tried to warn Connor about Cordelia being possessed …

Everybody's Fool

Prologue

It was late but Connor was perfectly awake. Someone had to watch over her, protect her, and he had sworn to be the one to do that. He loved her after all – he loved them both, this beautiful woman and her unborn child. Their unborn child. It didn't matter that no one else understood – they had each other and soon, the three of them would be a family. They didn't need anyone else. Not Fred, not Wesley, not Gunn, not Lorne. And especially not him.

Resolving not to waste time in thinking of the man he should have been able to call father, Connor's eye fell on the woman by his side and a soft smile passed over his features. He drank in everything about her, her flawless skin, silky dark hair, long dark lashes closed over eyes he knew to be of warmest brown … He was relieved to see she was still slumbering peacefully – she didn't need all the stress the others seemed determined to force upon her. She needed rest in her condition and he would make sure she got it. That and anything else she might need …

perfect by nature,
icons of self indulgence …

"So ya think ya love the girl, do ya?"

Connor's head jerked up, startled by the voice which interrupted his thoughts and the soft chuckle which followed. They were alone, he had made sure of that … Shaking his head as if to dispel what could only be the creation of his feverish imagination, he turned his gaze back to Cordelia and felt himself relax just at the sight of her and the knowledge that she was his to cherish and protect. This beautiful woman and she loved him, just as he loved her …

"Sure, she's a stiffener alright, I'll give ya that."

Narrowing his eyes, Connor glanced warily around the room before getting up carefully, not wanting to disturb the sleeping woman. He couldn't just be imagining it, could he? Someone must have followed them, snuck in … probably under his orders …

"Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice harsh but low.

"I ain't hidin', ya just ain't lookin' right … There ya go."

Connor stared curiously at the figure in the doorway, not recognising the dark haired man who was leaning casually against the frame with a whiskey glass in his hand, his eyes focused on the golden liquid it held as he swirled it gently. The figure looked up, deep blue eyes studying him intently and a reluctant smile curling the corner of his lips upwards.

"So yer him – the prodigal son. Don't look much like him – I expected … Hell, who am I kiddin'? No one expected ya at all, much less wondered if ya were gonna take after yer aule man in the looks department … But that's a yarn fer another day."

"Who are you?" Connor asked, wondering how this stranger could seem to know so much about him and it was obvious from the way he spoke that he knew the whole story.

"Don't tell me no one told ya 'bout me? Jeez, I dunno … Only one o' the foundin' members o' a little PI firm, name o' Angel Investigations, and the original seer o' the outfit …"

"Doyle."

to be continued...