The sun had set. Angel could smell it. He could smell the darkness, the cold that crept in with the night time. He could feel the pull of the moon. But despite that, despite his demon naturally tugging at him to go out into the night, he never wanted to leave the security that was the simple cotton sheets wrapped around him. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He'd just had the fight of his life and now he had to do it all again. Had the Powers seriously thought that he would refuse them? He'd already given everything up, there was nothing left for him to loose. He could only gain from this – gain another chance with his friends, another shot to get things right, another chance to be gutted from the inside when he lost it all again.
He'd spent most of the day lying awake, sobbing into his pillow, mourning his friends, despite the knowledge that they were all still alive. It seemed inconsequential because he knew that it could all turn out the same. Even if he did manage to achieve the impossible it didn't mean that everything would be fine… he knew that it wouldn't be. There would always be sacrifice. There would always be pain. He deserved nothing better, but they did. His friends… they were the true champions; he was just the letterhead, the mascot that they hid behind. He had eventually fallen asleep, tears still tracking down his cheek, with the image of Spike's face as he dusted permanently shattering what was left of his heart.
Connor entered his father's suite quietly. He'd spent the day in deep confusion. Holtz had told him thousands of stories about Angelus, Angel. He'd told him that no one ever crossed the demon without paying a high price. He'd told him graphic tales of priests that had tried to exorcise the demon from the body of the man and had been found days, weeks, months later; badly bruised, cut, whipped, split, slashed and torn open. Usually they were alive, but would not survive… they never survived. Yet, he had visited a horrible torment upon the creature and he had been practically ignored. He hadn't been hit even. He had just been told to move on and that Angel had other things to worry about. Had he not been able to see the fear that flitted across the demon's face he might have thought that he was just planning to wait and get his revenge later. Angel was worried about something else. Angel didn't care that Connor had tried to kill him. Angel had said that he wanted Connor to become a Champion and that he needed his help. Connor was beginning to believe that this was not the creature that Holtz had told him about. If he was, why wasn't Connor dead? How could so many good people care for him so deeply? How could he be so convinced that he was doing the right thing? How could Connor be sure that this monster wasn't a man, when everything, including his own heart, was telling him otherwise?
He moved quietly and yet Angel still flicked his eyes to Connor. He gave an apologetic shrug and studied the vampire's face for the few seconds before a tight unreadable mask settled over it. The vampire had been crying. Connor could smell the tears and see the tracks on the pale cheeks. He had never seen such misery, not even in the Quor'toth. It confused him all the more. He was becoming all the more convinced that Holtz knew a very different demon.
"The sun's set. Fred called and said that they'd be here in an hour."
He actually wanted to say more. He wanted to ask Angel why he wasn't dead, why Angel wasn't torturing him horribly, what was going on – but he couldn't find the words. Instead he just stood there and waited, rocking back on his heels slightly as he plunged his hands deep into his pockets. He saw Angel look at him and dropped his head, unable to look at those deep chocolate eyes without feeling guilty.
"Thanks. I'm gonna shower."
Angel gingerly lifted himself out of the bed and Connor couldn't help the shocked gasp that escaped his lips as he took in the state of Angel's torso. He could see that the wounds dipped below the waistband of his sweats so he assumed that every inch of Angel's body was covered in such damage. Angel was torn up, more damaged than he could ever have been by being locked in steel coffin without blood for months. He had three deep gouged claw tracks that ripped from his navel to the base of his throat, there were slashes everywhere and his left side was burnt and blistered, angry red weeping blisters were broken up by the bruising of cracked ribs and innumerable punch marks. In places that weren't black or red his skin seemed to have a strange blue tinge. There was a branded tattoo over his heart, a circle of blackened flesh that actually looked as though it was still burning. He watched as Angel limped over to the bathroom, holding his right arm tight to his body and wincing whenever his left brushed his side. Angel was a patchwork of pain and Connor couldn't help but wince in sympathy.
Connor stood there until the clicking on and the hiss of water forced him from the room. Now he was scared. Whatever had happened to Angel was big and bad and, from what Angel had told them the night before, still on its way. Angel looked older than he was, worn and exhausted and Connor wanted to know what had happened to him. He clamped down quickly on the protective feelings that the sight of the battered and bruised body evoked in him. He couldn't help but notice that he could kill Angel easily at the moment, he was as weak as a kitten, but he didn't want to. Instead he wanted to kick the ass of whatever had hurt his father. It was strange but since hanging around Fred and Gunn and listening to their stories, he found that he actually wanted Angel as his father. The Angel that they spoke of. The great protector and friend that they saw him as. The hero. He wanted that Angel in his life. But the image that Holtz had painted of a blood thirsty monster refused to leave his mind no matter how hard he tried to push it aside and how many stories he heard of Angel's good deeds.
He wandered down the stairs, the image of Angel's injuries refused to leave him. Deciding that he could try to get along with Angel, try to find out who the real Angel was and ignore what everyone else had told him, find out for himself, he went into the kitchen. He grabbed a carton of blood out of the fridge and put it in the microwave. He'd seen the others do this a thousand times and was surprised to find that it didn't bother him as much as he'd expected it to. He continued to watch the blood rotate and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. There was still 24 seconds on the display when a noise in the lobby distracted him; he grabbed a knife off the counter and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans and went to investigate.
Wesley found himself standing in a place that he hadn't expected to return to ever again. He was pleased to see that nothing had changed; the weapons cabinet was where it had been before and from what he could see the office looked the same disorganised mess that it had been when he ran it. This hotel felt like home. It smelt like home. He couldn't help the small sigh of relief that he was back. He knew that they weren't friends but the fact that Angel had come to him meant more than Angel would ever know. He had not given helping a moment's thought. He had immediately kicked Lilah out of the house, packed up the books and clothes that he wanted to take. He also grabbed a few extra weapons and as soon as the sun had sunk below the horizon he had left for the hotel.
He was surprised to see Conner enter from the kitchen. Especially given the fact that his research into Angel's disappearance had indicated that Connor was the one responsible. He must have been mistaken; after all he had yet to get something about Connor correct. The boy looked so much like his mother it was uncanny; he had the same fine bone structure and bluish eyes. There was a touch of Angel in him too, the suspicious edge to his movements and the concealed power – that was very much Angel. As was the lurking in the doorway of the kitchen. Wes couldn't help the wave of nausea that swept through him as he saw the boy's suspicious glare and the defensive posture he adopted. He had been the one to cause this. The boy's suffering was his fault. His untrusting attitude was a product of him refusing to trust Angel and talk to him about the prophecy. Not for the first time he wished that he could turn back time. Seeing that the boy wasn't going to say anything he cleared his throat.
"Is Angel here?"
"Who are you?" He was human so Conner couldn't kill him but that didn't mean he had to trust him.
"Wesley Windham Price, I used to…"
"You're the one who sent me there!"
Conner growled and launched himself at the man that caused his nightmares. Holtz had told him of Wesley, of how he had saved him and gotten him away from Angel. Connor may have been grateful to escape the vampire but he would never believe that he had been saved by being sent to the Quor'toth. In a second he had the knife out and had made his way across the distance between them. Before he could strike he was blocked by a blur of speed as Angel stopped him. The blow that Conner braced himself for never came; Angel just put himself between Conner and Wesley, and gently eased the knife away from Connor.
"Connor will you go and put Wes' bags in the car? And then could you make sure that you have everything that you want?"
Connor didn't reply he just picked up the bags and strode out of the hotel, his eyes not once leaving Wesley. Angel let out a relieved sigh and small smile, glad that his son had decided to take the easy way out of this confrontation. He sagged against a pillar and looked at Wes. He wasn't sure what to say.
"Fred phoned, they should be back soon and we can leave as soon as they get here. I am not looking forward to this." He paused and for once decided to speak from the heart, he had never had the chance to say goodbye. "I'm glad you came."
He offered Wes a small smile to show that he was genuine. He saw relief and honesty in the blue gaze that was turned on him.
"I would never have forgiven myself if I didn't. I think that I have enough guilt as it is. Don't you?"
There was really no way to answer that.
The drive to Sunnydale was hell. Everyone was tense and unable to communicate. The only ones actually able to string more than two words together were Lorne and Fred, who were continually trying to get the others to talk.
The problems had started as soon as Gunn's rig had pulled up beside the hotel. Gunn had taken one look at Wes and Connor and asked how many other traitors were coming for the ride. Fred had tried to smooth things over between Gunn and Wes, but that had caused Gunn to develop two rather beautiful green eyes and then she had made the fatal error of trying to get Gunn to talk to Connor. Of course that now meant that Gunn wasn't talking to Wes, Connor and Fred, so he was sat in the front with Angel – who he was barely talking to for having Wes and Connor come with – and Lorne.
Angel watched the three in the back carefully through his rear-view mirror. Fred was in the middle of the two men. She looked like a frail and ineffectual barrier but Angel knew that neither of them would dare to hurt her. His heart broke as he listened to her excited chatter. She told Lorne everything that had happened since he had left, pondered her own theories about Cordy, told Wes about a physics paper that she hoped to have published and asked thousands of questions about Las Vegas and Sunnydale. She was so inquisitive. It was her Achilles heel. Connor actually seemed interested in what Wes had to say about Sunnydale, even asking about how Wes had met Angel and Cordy. Then his uncaring and uninterested attitude had appeared again when Gunn made a comment about there being docks in Sunnydale should Connor feel the need to sink Angel to the bottom of the ocean again. That had created an uncomfortable silence that had lasted all of ten minutes before Lorne started singing.
At times Angel could feel everyone watching him. They all wanted to know what was happening and he got the sense that Lorne and Wes at least knew that he was far more concerned than he let on. He knew that Connor knew how hurt he was but he wasn't actually feeling the full effects of the pain yet. He guessed that he was still to numb from everything that he had seen and learned to be bothered by something as inconsequential as pain. He had been grateful for the mug of blood that Connor had produced though. Lorne kept sneaking side glances at him every time he had to shift gears. The movement jarred his side and his ribs were still mending, so the little hisses were uncontrollable. Connor was probably the only other one to notice that he was hurting at all. He was glad about that because he didn't want anyone to question him yet. It was going to be hard enough to tell them all without having to repeat himself at all. He kept hearing Whistler's words in his head, hearing how everything that they had done hadn't helped because no matter how hard they tried the damage had already been done and was irreparable.
He knew that if he was in his own time and knew what he knew now, there would be a few dead individuals. He was so angry at them, that they hadn't considered the implications of their actions. He could feel his blood boiling at the thought of all the wasted lives because of the decisions of other people hundreds of miles away. At the same time he felt a sense of peace and wholeness. Angelus was on his side for once. He was as horrified as Angel was at what was coming and he was on board with what they had to do. For that Angel was truly thankful. Angelus was the best ally that he could think of – no one could plot like him and no one had the will power that he possessed. Angelus' drive would see them through this and Angel's morality would steer them on the right path. They would succeed this time.
What Angel was really doing though, throughout the drive, was basking. He had his family back. His 'demon-hunting, helpless-helping, dysfunctional family', as Fred would say. They may not all be getting along but they were all safe and all here and that was all that mattered to him. He could even put up with Lorne singing his little green heart out, as long as they were all ok. No matter what he was going to change the future. He couldn't and wouldn't lose them again. He knew that he was going to alter everything but they were going to survive or else there would be hell to pay – and not the fun fire and brimstone kind.
He slowed as the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign came into view and he pulled the car over onto the side of the road. He hopped out and turned to his friends.
"Wes? The Scoobies are meant to be meeting us in the Magic Box, it's on Main Street. Do you think that you remember the way?" When Wes nodded, Angel tossed him the keys. "You drive and I'll meet you there. I have to go and get something. See you soon."
"Dad? Can I come with you?" There was no way that Connor wanted to be left in the car with the guy that had sent him to Quor'toth or the others that really didn't trust him.
"No Connor – I need to do this alone. Don't worry, it'll be ok."
He gave his son a quick smile, heart lifted by the fact that he had called him 'Dad' but he knew that Connor had only done it because he wanted something, but that didn't matter. Then he vanished into the Sunnydale night, whilst Wes got into the front and steered the car towards the centre of town.
The atmosphere in the Magic Box was tense. Just under an hour ago, Buffy had received a phone call from Giles asking her to meet the others at the shop. She had arrived about ten minutes later, Dawn in tow, and was surprised to see the Scoobies, even Tara, sat around the table with uncomfortable expressions on their faces. With them was Giles and two men, one of which Buffy recognised, Quentin Travers, therefore the other had to be a watcher. He looked just like Quentin. He was oldish, white hair, spectacles and the compulsory tweed. Next to him, Giles looked normal in his jeans and green sweater. They were looking through some of the books and asking questions of Anya and Willow. They seemed as tense as the rest of the group.
When Buffy sat down, Giles informed them that he had received a rather distressing phone call from Angel the night before and had been told that he was needed in Sunnydale and that it would be useful if someone from the Watchers' Council came with him. Buffy's heart had started beating frantically at the mention of her ex and still only real love. She was worried now – if Angel was in danger… Giles said that Angel hadn't informed him of what the crisis was but that he had sounded very worried and should be arriving at any moment.
That was forty minutes ago and they were still waiting. Anya and Xander were sniping at each other and Buffy was feeling increasingly nauseous at the idea of Spike and Anya on the table in front of her. She could only hope that it had been cleaned in the past few days. She knew that she didn't love Spike; she didn't even like him ninety per cent of the time, but she still felt cheated. He was meant to be in love with her and he had slept with Anya. She was relieved that Giles was busy talking with the watchers otherwise he might have heard Xander, and she knew that he was still very mad at her. She was very worried that he would say something to Angel and that Angel would get hurt over this and hate her. Dawn was gushing over the fact that Willow and Tara were back together and Buffy had to smile at that. They were perfect for each other and both had been suffering when they were apart. They deserved to be happy.
The door bell chimed and everyone turned to the door. Wesley and three people that they didn't recognise entered followed by a green demon and no sign of Angel. They came into the shop proper and stopped on the upper level. The two groups regarded each other for a few moments before Wes greeted the watchers.
"Mr Travers, Father, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"
Wes was shocked to see his father and he suddenly felt useless. His father had always had the uncanny ability of making him feel worthless and completely incompetent. He felt very uncomfortable; he was alienated from everyone in the room and some of it had been his own fault. If working with Angel again hadn't shaken his nerves then seeing his father definitely did.
"We are not sure. That vampire you work for told Mr Giles here that there was an emergency. He mentioned that the Watcher's Council was involved and we thought it prudent to come and listen."
"Right, of course. Well it is good to see you again father." Wesley's voice was strained as he spoke to his father. The discomfort was apparent to everyone
"And I thought that I had problems with my father." Conner's muttered comment caused a smile to come to Fred's face. She had the feeling that Angel and Conner were going to be fine.
"Umm Wesley? Who are your friends?" Willow hated awkward silences and tension. It was in her nature to soothe it at the moment. She had Tara back and was on top of the world.
"My apologies Willow. This is Winifred Burkle but we call her Fred, Charles Gunn or Gunn, Lorne and Conner."
"No surname Conner?" Dawn had to admit that she was curious as to her future husband's last name. They were all surprised by the fact that he looked very jumpy and angry at that question. He refused to answer and the LA crew made no effort to make him.
"Ok, well I'm Willow, this is my girlfriend Tara, that's Xander, Buffy and her sister Dawn, Anya and Giles are the ones bickering behind the counter." She gave them a friendly smile and went back to sit with her honey.
"And I am Quentin Travers. Where is the vampire?"
"Stop calling him that! His name is Angel!" Conner knew that he was being a hypocrite but he had a reason to be wary of Angel, they didn't. They hadn't even met him.
The LA group exchanged shocked glances at the tone of Connor's voice, surprised to hear him defending Angel so passionately. In fact they were surprised to see him defend Angel at all, despite the fact that he had seemed to be interested in Angel on the way and had listened when Angel told him what to do. Gunn laid his hand on Connor's arm knowing that if they didn't calm him down then someone was going to get hurt.
"Chill Conner. He said that he'd meet us here. Guys, I gotta say I'm worried about the brother. He seems…"
"Scared. He's scared." Everyone except Conner was surprised by Lorne's statement. "Whatever's coming has got our Angelcakes in a spin. Start thinking beige people.
"Beige?" Giles hadn't had chance to question the green demon to find out what he was or did, but needless to say he was fascinated.
"Aw man not again! I love Angel but if we have to go through that again, I'm going to be leaving!" Gunn did not want another experience like that, it was too painful. Angel leaving them had hurt far more than Gunn had ever thought possible and he really didn't want to feel anything like that again.
"Yes Gunn but… Angel in leather pants!"
"Enough you two! I think that we should me more afraid of what is coming than Angel reverting to his dark wardrobe. Did you get anything of value Lorne?" Wes was shocked with the way that he slipped back into leader role and the way that they fell in line. Whatever was coming, Angel being afraid meant that they were a team again – he wished that they had come back together under happier circumstances.
"Sorry Muffin I got nada, just a beige edge to his aura."
"What is this beige thing that you are talking about?" Buffy hated being out of the loop.
"Angel's aura tends to go beige apparently when despite his soul; he gets… well he turns back to Angelus but without the homicidal tendencies." Wesley didn't think that he should mention Darla at that point.
"Unless you're a lawyer." Gunn couldn't help the snide remark, even though Angel wasn't around to benefit from it.
Conner had been ignoring the banter. All he could focus on was the memory of Angel's body and how battered it had been. "He's badly hurt." Seeing the blank looks he decided to carry on, although it felt odd to be talking to this many people. "This evening I saw him. He was covered in cuts and bruises and burns. Some of the cuts were still bleeding. His skin also had this blue tinge and the tattoo looked more like a burn mark. It looked bad."
"The Gryphon looks like a burn?"
"No, the tattoo on his chest."
"Conner, Angel doesn't have a tattoo on his chest. I mean, we should know, right? The number of times that Cordy and I…" Fred didn't finish her sentence, the pain of not knowing were Cordelia was, was killing her
"Where is Cordelia?" Giles' question made everyone realise that there was an important someone missing.
"We don't know. She went missing when Angel…" Fred cast a quick glance at Conner. "Well, that's not important right now… But Angel says he knows where she is."
"Oh well that's ok then isn't it? As long as Deadboy knows where she is then everything is fine." Xander had never felt the need to hide his dislike of Angel from his friends. However, he forgot that at this point in time Angel had friends here as well. Friends who were mightily defensive of him.
"I wouldn't speak like that about him. Not around us anyway." Fred's voice was cold. So were the looks that Xander got from the rest of the LA gang. Naturally he found Lorne's red gaze the most unnerving, little realising that the real threat was in Connor who was being gently restrained by Fred.
"Freddikins is right. You may not like Angel, Donut, but we love him. Besides, he was besotted with Cordy, if she's missing and he isn't charging off into an alternate dimension, dragging his friends into places that they really hoped never to see again… then I'd say she's fine."
Nobody but the LA crew looked particularly convinced by what the green demon had to say.
"May I ask what you are?" Quentin affected a polite tone but anyone with ears could hear the distain in his tone.
"A club owner and you are?" Lorne had dealt with difficult customers in Caritas so dealing with a pompous watcher was really nothing. It was especially fun when he heard an amused snort from Gunn and Wes.
Quentin turned to Wesley, as did Roger; both gave him an unimpressed look and indicated that they expected him to continue the explanation, something that he really didn't want to do. He sighed and remembering his training gave them a brief synopsis of Lorne.
"Lorne is a Pylean. He's an anagogic demon, he reads people's destinies when they sing, hence he owns a popular karaoke bar in LA."
"Ahem!"
"He owned a popular karaoke bar… until we got it destroyed."
"Three times!"
"We have apologised for that Lorne and technically only one of those incidents was really our… Ok so we've had that discussion before. Lorne is a pacifist which made him an outcast in his dimension and he came here accidentally by the way of a portal."
Wesley hoped that they would leave it there; he could see that both Connor and Fred looked very uncomfortable at the mention of portals. He gave Fred an apologetic smile and turned to Connor. At the thunderous expression on the boy's face he decided that discretion definitely was the better part of valour and so moved on quickly.
"Lorne helps Angel and the rest of us with our cases as he has a link to the PTB."
"The PTB?" Giles was curious, the acronym was sparking some memories but he couldn't latch onto what they were. He saw similar expressions on everyone else's face.
"Powers that Be, they guide the forces of Good. Angel is their Champion and we help him. They're like the big bosses that we work for." Fred offered a shy smile hoping that her explanation was good enough.
No one got chance to ask any further questions as the door opened again and in walked Angel, closely followed by Spike. The watchers looked decidedly uneasy at the thought of Angelus and William the Bloody being together again, Buffy felt sick, Connor was angry as he could smell that the man with his father was a vampire and the way they were walking together told him that they had been close once.
"What the hell is he doing here!"