CHAPTER NINE
"Are you sure he'd come here?" Buffy asked to the blanket covered lump in the back seat as Giles drove up to Connor's house.
"It makes sense," Angel replied from under the blanket. "Connor's gone again. He's not at the hospital, which surprised me."
"But there was no answer when we called here," she protested, looking at the house for signs of life.
"I believe Thalia's sister mentioned going to the funeral home to work on arrangements for when Thalia's body is released," Giles said, parking the car.
"If Connor wanted to be alone here, now would be the time," Angel added, his voice muffled.
"So he won't be thanking us for interrupting that," Buffy said, uneasiness creeping into her voice.
"No, I don't imagine he will but I don't trust him alone," Angel said. "Connor is one for grand, sweeping and all too final gestures. Not that I think he'll do anything stupid, not while there's a chance his son is alive but I'd rather not risk leaving him alone and letting him sink into the darkness."
"I'll go make sure his in-laws are out just so they don't wonder about your mad dash from the car to the door," Giles said, slipping out of the car.
"Why would you even check the hospital?" Buffy turned so she could look over the back of the seat. "There's probably nothing more Darla could tell you that would help."
Angel lifted the blanket so he could see Buffy's face, and he didn't like what he saw, jealousy, insecurity. He knew if he called her on it, it would only get worse. "She's his mother, Buffy. A mother he's never seen, and I think he's missed her in spite of that. He's always wanted a nice normal family and you know that. Now his mother's back. Trust me, he'll go to the hospital."
"Will you?" she asked in a small frightened tone.
Angel could guess at most of the subtext in those two words. He didn't know how to deal with them, at least not at the moment. "I think you're wrong. I think there is more Darla can tell us. Someone brought her back from dust again, Buffy. There's a reason for it. I do need to find out why."
A resigned look took over her face. "I know."
He also knew that she would always have problems with Darla even if his former lover wasn't back from the dead. He had spent a century with Darla and, even though he assured Buffy many times that he didn't love her, neither of them really believed it. Still, he had made a choice long ago and killed his sire for Buffy. Angel wasn't sure Buffy knew how important a choice that was. It usually wasn't an easy thing to kill one's sire. He wasn't sure she understood the significance of it any more than she did when Spike offered to kill Drusilla for her. "Besides, Buffy, Darla's time is limited. She has a bad heart. Connor doesn't know that," he added, his voice weighed down with one more bad thing he'd have to tell his son.
Giles waved them in from the doorway. Angel spread the blanket out like a tarp overhead but still he felt dangerously warm by the time he bolted inside. They found Connor sitting on the floor in the nursery, tucked into a corner. He held the little octopus he had rescued from the lab. His eyes flicked up towards them then went back to their blank staring.
Buffy looked around the blue and yellow star spangled room. She knew Connor had done this himself, and she was impressed. She didn't think he had art inside of him. "It's sweet, Connor," she said, unsure if she should. It was just a reminder of all he had lost.
A ghost of a smile kissed his lips. "Thanks. It looks like the room they kept my son in. Were they spying on me even here? A coincidence? Something else?"
"I don't know. Maybe if Darla is more lucid today we might find out more," Angel said, trying to look hopeful.
Connor shook his head. "I went there this morning. They said she had been comatose all night."
"That could change," Giles said. "We can go back now if you'd like, Connor. We really do need to find out what else Darla might know about why she was brought back and what they want with your son. It doesn't make sense that they would go through all this effort if all they wanted was the baby. It would have been far easier to just take the child and flee." A nervous look ironed out some of Giles' wrinkles. "Sorry, Connor, I didn't mean to suggest that they would hurt..."
Connor held up a hand. "You're not suggesting anything I haven't thought of, Giles. There's something big going on. I figured that much when I first saw the apartment they set up. We should go now...I can't be here anymore. I don't know...how can I ever be here again?"
Angel went over and embraced him briefly. "Connor, you can stay with me until you're ready to be here again. And if you never are...you stay with me until you find someplace to be."
Connor rested his head against Angel's shoulder for a moment. "Thanks." His head snapped up. "Oh, damn, Larissa's back. I was hoping we could get out of here before that."
"Is it too hard on you dealing with her, Connor? We could help," Buffy said, touching his arm.
Connor rubbed his forehead. "No, it's more...how do we get Angel from here to the car without her wondering what's up with the blanket?"
"Well, we'll just keep her distracted until Angel gets out to the car," Buffy said decisively.
Connor left the nursery, still holding the octopus. He offered a weary smile to his sister-in-law. Her husband took the kids upstairs. "Is there anything I can get for you guys? I'm about to head out."
Larissa's dark eyes narrowed. "Already? We just got back in."
"You're handling everything, Larissa. There's nothing I can do and...I just can't sit here. There's got to be something more I can be doing to find my son," Connor said, the words sounding hollow and desperate.
"The police will probably think you're trying to get in their way," Larissa sniffed distastefully.
"Not this time. Danforth wanted my help with something, someone else who might have been hurt by the people who killed Thalia," Connor said. "Danforth can't tell everyone that yet because she doesn't know who all is involved. "
"Why haven't you told us before?" Larissa demanded, crossing her arms defensively. "Is this the blond woman Zuelsdorff showed us a picture of yesterday?"
"Because I don't know that it's going to lead anywhere and you have enough to deal with without that. And yeah, I'm probably talking about the blond in the picture," Connor said then held out the octopus. "Here."
Larissa looked at him like he had lost his mind. "What is that?"
"It was for our son," Connor said, and Angel realized he hadn't told Larissa that they had found the place the baby was being kept. "I want it to go..." Connor's voice broke, his shoulders heaving. "I want it to go with Thalia."
Larissa hugged him tight, crying. "Of course." She kissed his cheek and took the octopus from him. "What are we going to do without her?"
Angel didn't wait to hear his son's answer. It would hurt too much. He took the opportunity to make a mad, blanket-shielded dash for the car. He didn't have to wait long for Buffy to get in the back seat with him. She slid his feet into her lap.
"Giles and Connor will be out in a minute," she said, her hand under the blanket, caressing his calf absently.
Angel lifted the blanket off his face just a little. "In case I haven't said it, Buffy, thank you for everything you've been doing for Connor. It's making a difference to him, to us both."
Buffy smiled softly. "How could I do less? I can't even imagine what Connor's going through. I don't even want to."
Angel didn't bring up that she did know about the death of a lover. She had gone through it twice; once with him, once with Spike. Nor did he mention he knew all too well what it was like to lose a child. He was relieved with Giles and Connor got into the car. "Are you up to going to the hospital, son?"
Connor peered over the back seat at him. "More than ready. Don't worry about me, Dad. I can hold it together. I have to."
"Not necessarily. The three of us can talk to Darla for you," Angel said. "But I know you want to talk to your mother. I know this has to be...disorientating for you."
"That's a word for it. I have to do this," Connor insisted, ignoring his father's sympathetic look.
"Okay," Angel acquiesced and Giles started towards the hospital. "Giles, what have you come up with for the Dawl?"
"Darla had to be referring to the Dawl Irrifletta," Giles said.
"Which is?" Buffy asked.
"The Reflected Light, a group originating in Malta, sort of the anti-Watchers. They study science and the arcana arts and pretend they're neutral, like the Watchers." Giles sounded bitter. "The truth is neither group is neutral. The Watchers try to do some good in the world and the Dawl...do not. That said, I have no idea where they might be in this part of the world. I left Dawn and Spike looking into that so I could get a chance to talk to Darla myself."
"You think they'd hurt my son, don't you?" Connor's voice was tight.
"I think they would if it suited their purposes," Giles said, grimly. "It almost looks like it was some kind of experiment going on in that apartment they had Darla and the baby in but what kind I can't fathom. I'm certain Darla could shed light on that. And the Dawl's involvement would go a long way to explaining what Darla is doing back. They would find resurrecting a vampire ...interesting."
Connor wiped his face, catching a few stray tears. "They're hurting him. I know it. Babies need to be held, to be loved. At least when he was with Darla, my son was getting that and now..."
"We're getting closer, Connor. We know who. That's half the battle," Angel said, not at all surprised in Connor's belief that Darla was helping the baby and not his kidnappers. Angel believed it, too. He didn't add that he knew who had taken his son when Connor had been kidnapped and it hadn't helped. He needed to give Connor something to cling to. His son didn't say anything more and the rest of the ride to the hospital was in silence. They were surprised that no one challenged them as they went to Darla's room. Buffy and Giles hung back, letting father and son approach the injured woman.
"Darla," Angel said softly.
Her dark eyes fluttered open, and she smiled that languid smile that used to turn his heart into sugar candy in the rain. "Angel," she said in that breathy little girl's voice of hers. At first he had thought it was a put on and had been slightly disappointed to find out it was real. "Connor." She reached out for her son.
Connor moved forward and took her hand. "Mom...we can't find him. They took him."
"They cleared out the whole building, Darla," Angel said, touching her arm. "Do you know where they might have taken him?"
She shook her head then winced, her free hand brushing her abused neck. "No, I was brought back..." she struggled for breath. "In a lab but I don't know where."
"The Dawl, you meant the Dawl Irrifletta?" Angel asked.
"Yes...and Eve and Gene." Darla took a deep breath as if willing her oxygen tube to give her more. "They didn't...they didn't hurt the baby, not when I was there."
Connor wilted like a blossom in the desert sun. Angel dragged the chair over again and sat his son down. Connor rested his head on the bed and Darla stroked his hair gently. "Mom, why did they do this?"
"I don't know." Darla's eyes shut, her hand stilling on Connor's crown. Angel thought she had slipped away again, but she opened her eyes, fixing them on Angel. They were hazed from the morphine dripping into her veins. "Not all of it. There has to be more than I knew...no one would go through it all just to have me raise the baby. I know there were to be...tests."
"Was it because of me, Darla? Did Eve do this because of me?" Angel couldn't keep the pain from cracking his voice like thin glass.
Darla wept. "I'm sorry, Angel."
Connor's head snapped up, his eyes holding a maelstrom. "Because of you...we knew that, didn't we?"
The hollowness in Connor's voice was worse than anger. Angel put a hand on his son's back. "I'm sorry, Connor. All of this is over Lindsey. I can't believe...this is insane."
"She wanted me to call the baby, Lindsey. Refused to." A defiant look branded itself on Darla's battered face. "Told her about Lindsey and me. She didn't know...pissed her off."
"Is that why she had Gene do this to you?" Connor squeezed his mother's hand. "It was him, wasn't it?"
Darla nodded. "I tried to escape. Eve shot me and left me to..." She shuddered. "I don't know where they would have taken little Liam...that's what I was calling him. I didn't know...thought maybe you might name him after your father." Darla stroked Connor's cheek.
He smiled. "Stephen...Thalia wanted to name him that."
"But that's..." Darla trailed off.
"Connor's name in hell...how did you know?" Angel asked shocked.
"The Powers were letting her watch me," Connor answered, wonder in his eyes at that bit of magic. "I didn't believe it back then in L.A. but it was real."
Darla took a deep rattling breath. "Stephen is a beautiful baby, head full of black hair. Did they...did those monsters kill his mother?"
Tears splashed down Connor's cheeks as he nodded.
"They did things to her that you and I would have balked at in our prime," Angel told her and Darla's eyes screwed shut.
"Find them, Angel," she said, her voice gaining strength in her fury. "You know what to do."
"I will," Angel caressed her cheek then looked over his shoulder. "Giles, write down our numbers please. Darla, if you remember anything more, you have the nurses call us."
"I'm useless." She sighed, her pain visibly catching up to her.
"No, you're not, Mom. Now we know exactly who took my son and we will find them," Connor said, squeezing her hand.
"Go," she whispered. "Don't stay here with me any longer. I can't help you more. The baby needs you more."
"We'll be back though," Connor assured her.
"He's right," Angel said. "We're not going to abandon you, Darla." He stroked her hair. "Have the doctors given you something for your heart? Does it hurt?" Whatever else Darla might have been to him, Angel didn't want her to suffer. He remembered the last time, her pain, her feeling her death coming up on her. He didn't want her to go through that again.
"Heart's fine. This time, the magic fixed it. I was perfectly healthy until Gene," she said, looking exhausted.
Angel took a step back. He wasn't expecting that. He had only been thinking ahead a few weeks, knowing Darla would eventually die from her weak heart. It never occurred to him that the first time they went through this Wolfram and Hart had purposely left her frail as an incentive for him to sire her. He wasn't prepared for her to live. "I...okay. Good. That's very good. You're right though. We need to get back out there, looking for Stephen."
"We'll be back later, Mom," Connor promised.
Darla just smiled at him and let her eyes close again. Angel and Connor left the room moving past Buffy and Giles. The look on Buffy's face was indescribable. Angel glanced over at Giles. "What now?"
"We go see what Dawn has found out about the Dawl and go from there," the Watcher replied.
"Mom has to be right. There has to be more to this than her raising my son, there has to be more to it than mere revenge," Connor said.
"Whatever it is, son, we'll figure it out," Angel said, wishing he felt as confident as he tried to sound. And the truth was he didn't give a damn what they wanted Darla and the baby for. All he wanted was his grandson back.
X X X
Connor wanted a lot of things, most of which he knew he'd never get. He would take even the briefest of clues to find his son. Giles and Dawn had found no new clues to the whereabouts of the Dawl enclave in Wisconsin. Eventually the tedium in Angel's home as they plodded through the research got to him. Connor couldn't deal with just sitting around doing nothing. It had been three days since he had gone to visit his son's empty nursery, three days of fruitless research and calls from the detectives who tried to sound encouraging. Connor couldn't sleep. Whenever he tried, he usually just tossed and turned picturing what he knew Thalia had to look like after the fire. He tried to construct what his son might look like as he remembered the infant's scent. The lack of sleep made him unbearable to be around. The only person he didn't snap at was his mother, still too amazed by her existence, too afraid she would wink out into nothingness.
It was only natural to him, that when he stormed out of Angel's house in frustration, that he had gone back to the hospital to see his mother. Darla mostly slept through his visit, as she had through the last several visits. They still had her doped up on morphine but were weaning her back now that her pain was more bearable. She had managed to give the police sketch artist a description for the F.A.C.E.S. computer program and Danforth promised that as soon as they found a probable computer match, they'd be back with photos.
The doctors told Connor that Darla could probably go home soon. They didn't want her to remain in-house where it was likely she'd catch some nasty resistant hospital-borne infection. They would help him find her a nursing home if he was unable to find housing for his 'cousin.' She could even have in-home nursing if need be, and they would set up appointments to include physical therapy and rape counseling. The thought of his mother being violated added fuel to Connor's imagination when it came to ways he was going to kill Gene and Eve. First his wife, then his child and then his mother all hurt by this pair. There would be a day of reckoning.
"I'm not surprised to see you here, Mr. Reilly."
Connor looked over his shoulder at Danforth and Zuelsdorff. Just what he needed more people to witness him falling apart, to see his sanity slowly coming undone. He put on his bravest face. "Someone needs to be here," he said, seeing his mother's eyes fluttering open at the sound of voices.
"We need to speak with Ms. Reilly privately. It'll only take a minute," Zuelsdorff said. "We need her to have a look at a photo array."
Connor nodded. "Sure." He was more than willing to have them try anything they needed to. Gene and Eve were human. The cops could handle them and, while that wouldn't be as satisfying as pulling Gene's guts out and making balloon animals with them, it would at least insure he'd be around to watch his son grow up and not be in a jail cell. It didn't take long before the two detectives came out of Darla's room.
Danforth stopped in front of him. "Could you have a look at the array for us and tell us if you recognize anyone, Mr. Reilly?"
She put the photo lineup in front of him and Connor pointed to Gene's picture. As he made the identification, a weight lifted off of Connor. Seeing the picture made it seem somehow more real that the people who took his son were living breathing creatures that could be caught and punished. "Him. I don't know him but I saw him with Eve at The Blue Velvet lounge. I got the impression they had been waiting for me," he said.
"What gave you that impression?" Zuelsdorff asked, taking out his note book. "Did they say something to you?"
Connor shook his head, trying to drag that terrible night free from a brain that wanted to shut the memory away for good to make it less real. His body trembled as he remembered and his voice quavered. "It was the night after Thalia was murdered. They didn't say a word. All they did was raise a glass to me and grinned, and even then, before I thought they might be involved, it felt...menacing somehow."
"And you've never seen them before?" Danforth asked.
"Or since. I wish I could be more help," Connor said empathetically. His fists balled as frustration overtook him. "Do you have any leads?"
"We're not at liberty to say," Zuelsdorff said and, while Connor knew that was protocol, it still irritated the hell out of him. He grit his teeth so his fury and exhaustion didn't spill out, making him say something he'd regret.
"Oh, okay," he said deflated, or at least letting them think that he was. He watched them go after they muttered goodbye and promised to keep him as in the loop as much as they could. Once they had a good distance on him, he started to follow, hoping to eavesdrop without them spotting him. He didn't get much but he did hear them mentioning someone spotting the suspect near the apartments off Langdon Street. Connor nearly choked. Langdon was loaded with college housing and dead ended into Wisconsin Avenue - a block away from Pickney where Angel's house reigned like a crown jewel.
As much as he wanted to race out the door and scour Langdon, Connor stumbled back to his mother just to tell her goodbye. Completely unsurprised by the fact Angel was in the room, holding Darla's hand, he went inside.
Angel smiled at Connor. "I knew you'd come here."
"We weren't getting anything done, and she has no one," Connor said defensively, not sure if Angel meant that he should be out doing more. What more could he do? None of them had been very successful in finding clues to his son.
And it wasn't as if Angel didn't take breaks. Angel managed to get people to bring him to the hospital in the day so Darla wouldn't be so alone. Connor knew that Angel was worried about her but knew also his father wasn't blind to a certain blonde's jealousy.
"Not alone..." Darla said in her soft, drugged voice. "I have you my precious boy."
"And I have to go, Mom. Dad, Danforth and Zuelsdorff were here," Connor said, feeling budding hope.
"I know. Darla told me she picked Gene out of the line up," Angel replied, favoring Darla with a gentle look.
"I overheard the detectives talking. He's been spotted on Langdon near some apartment," Connor broke into his parents' tender moment. There was something almost disturbing about it, as much as he had wanted this for most of his earliest years; it was his most hidden secret from Holtz. As much as he hated his parents, he still longed for them all to be a family, that maybe he could make them not evil. The dream died in his teen years and now... it seemed like going backwards. He wasn't blind to how his father felt about Buffy but both of them seemed to be deep in denial. Did Darla know? For all Connor knew, she wanted free of Angel after so many centuries.
Angel's eyes brightened. "Then we have a place to start looking again. Only, those apartments tend to have locked lobbies and at this time of night, they're not likely to let us in if we buzz them."
Connor felt a little gutted. He hadn't even considered that. Even if they did get buzzed in, who would answer questions from strangers in the middle of the night? "Well...we can listen for a baby crying. I can go back in the day tomorrow...something," he said, grasping desperately so not to go over the edge back into despair.
Angel patted his shoulder. "I'll call Giles and get them looking into police reports and anything else they think is pertinent."
"You'll find him," Darla said softly.
Connor smiled at his mother. "Thanks."
"Excuse me." A nurse popped into the room. "Visiting hours are over."
"We're just leaving." Connor leaned over and kissed his mother.
Angel ran a hand over Darla's tangled hair as he said goodbye. Connor had no idea what gentle touches like that might actually mean for his parents. He refused to think about it.
To Connor's chagrin, it was snowing heavily when they got back outside. He was determined not to let it stop him. Angel guided him to his car while he placed a call to his home to let Buffy and the others know what they had learned. As they headed back to Angel's home to park so they could cover Langdon on foot, the snow got worse.
"It's not supposed to be this bad this early in the year," Connor groused, knowing no one would be out and about in this kind of weather.
"It's Wisconsin. What possessed you to move here?" Angel asked, putting the car in park. Buffy was waiting on them in the doorway, looking frigid already.
"I thought you'd never find me here," Connor answered with undisguised honesty and saw the hurt in Angel's dark eyes. He felt instantly bad about it. Thalia wanted him to try to be nicer to his father. How could he be so insensitive to her last wishes?
"I sent Spike and Illyria to look at some warehouses west of Middleton that might be owned by the Dawl," Buffy said, coming out into the snow to meet them. "Guess that leaves us Langdon."
"Thanks, Buffy," Connor said softly, heading west to hook onto Langdon. He appreciated all the help she was giving him when this wasn't her problem. He was holding onto Buffy and the rest as if they were lifelines. Connor knew without them he was doomed.
"Nothing like a stroll in a winter wonderland." She looked up at the snowflakes coming down thick and wet like mashed potatoes through a fan. "Why is this supposed to be romantic?"
"Usually you don't have your boyfriend's kid along with you while you're hunting murderers and rapists. It's probably more romantic without those elements," Connor offered, trudging ahead of them. He looked at each building as he went, feeling the fear that this was another dead end ratcheting up with every darkened home. There were so many. There wasn't much personal space between the homes and apartments in this part of town. The buildings were crammed in as if trying dance on the shores of the lakes that dotted the city.
"And usually the boyfriend does this." Angel pulled Buffy to his side as they walked. "And usually they're warmer than me."
"It's okay," she said softly then raised her voice, "Connor, what exactly did the detectives say?"
"Just that Gene had been seen here...don't know if it's a real sighting and if it is real if it means he's hidden out here or just walked past after spying on us," Connor said, trying to see through his snow-beaded eyelashes. No, he couldn't think about it being a false lead. If he thought about it then he'd imagine that he would never see his son. "I can't let it pass. I have to see if it leads somewhere."
"Of course," Angel said.
It's going to lead to frostbite, Connor thought hatefully. What had he done to so offend the Powers that they'd give him a lead and then top it with weather like this? He heard Buffy cursing behind him as she nearly slipped and fell. Snow made his cheeks sting. He couldn't even make out 'for rent' signs on the buildings to tell if they were apartments to begin with. Even if he could see in, most of the college students decorated their windows with posters and pictures and weird-colored drapes so that seeing into them was next to impossible.
A hush fell over the city except for the occasional tire trying to find traction to get up and down the hills. Connor just wished that Angel and Buffy would go back and leave the search to him. There was no sense in everyone freezing in the November storm. Finally he thought they did go. He was too absorbed as he walked and re-walked Langdon searching, praying that he wasn't sure if they were down the block or gone. He could no longer feel his feet or fingers when Angel put an arm around him. Buffy was nowhere to be seen.
"You've been out here for hours," Angel said gently. "It's nearly two in the morning."
Connor shook his head. It couldn't be that late already. He had found nothing. He was a failure as a father. He couldn't even find his baby. He couldn't go home yet. "I have to find him." His voice sounded like shattered icicles.
"You're going to die of exposure, Connor. This snow isn't going to let up. All the buildings are dark. We aren't going to find him tonight," Angel said, his face stern now. He wasn't going to take no for an answer.
Connor glared at him. "I can't give up now."
"You aren't giving up. You'll come back when it's light out." Angel tried to steer him towards home.
Connor didn't resist any further. He could barely walk home. His feet were too numb and the snow had gotten so thick and heavy. Connor leaned on his father as they walked. He couldn't say anything. If not for Angel, he would never have left the street. He wasn't even thinking of his own survival. When they reached the house, Connor was happy to note that someone had kindled a fire in the marble fireplace in Angel's living room.
Dawn popped up off the couch when they came in. "I made hot chocolate. Let me go get it."
Connor almost fell on the hearth rug. Angel helped him tug off his boots and Buffy gave him a towel for his hair. His hood had fallen off so many times he hadn't bothered with it after a while and his hair was filled with ice balls. For a moment he looked at the people helping him, wondering what might it have been like to have parents doing this for him as a child coming in from playing in the snow. It snowed in Quor-Toth and Holtz would let him frolic but there were never roaring hearth fires, mommies drying his hair or daddies taking off his boots and telling him he needed to get out of his wet clothes.
It took a few seconds for him to realize Angel really was telling him that. His father hauled him up and Giles had some clothing for him. Connor stumbled to the downstairs half bath and shucked his soaked through and frozen stiff clothing. His skin was pink and icy to the touch. By the time he was dressed in the warm, soft jogging pants, the pain in his warming appendages was nearly overwhelming. He groaned as he stumbled his way to the hearth rug where he collapsed. Dawn pressed a hot mug into his hands, and he cupped it with both to insure he didn't drop it. Connor took two sips then set the mug on the hearth. He looked up at his friends and burst into tears. "I'm sorry," he wailed. "I can't stop crying."
"I don't think you're supposed to when something like this happens," Buffy said as Angel knelt on the rug.
He took his son into his arms. "You're so cold, Connor."
Before Connor knew what was happening, Buffy had the afghan off the couch and draped around him. He just shivered, covered in it and his father's arms until his tears stopped. He was barely aware of Buffy stroking his hair. "I'm never getting him back."
"Shhh, don't talk like that. You'll get him back," Angel promised.
"How long do we wait? How long before I do what you did and dismantle the crib?" Connor asked accusingly.
"How did you know...Cordelia," Angel snarled, suddenly furious at a friend long dead. "It was different. You were taken to hell. And we have so much help here...we'll get him back."
"I want to believe," Connor's breath caught and for a moment he couldn't speak. "It's just so hard."
Angel held him so tight it hurt. "I know, baby boy, but I'm promising you I moved hell to get you back and nothing will stop me from doing it again."
Connor just folded up against his father, even more tears finding their way out of him. He could cry until the world drowned.
X X X
"Is that brat going to ever shut up?" Gene asked, not taking his gaze away from the snow outside his window.
"Look, do you think I volunteered to see what happens to a baby if you don't let it get its usual amount of sleep," Eve said wearily. "However, I'm thinking if we tell the head of the Dawl 'no' at this point we might both find ourselves in shallow graves next to Darla." She jabbed the baby with a pin as his eyes started to shut. He let go with a pain-filled screech.
"I say we've had our fun. It's time to cut and run," Gene said.
"Do you think there's somewhere in this world the Dawl won't find you if they think you still owe them?" Eve asked, wondering if just smothering the brat and taking her chances was such a bad idea.
"Worth the risk," Gene muttered.
"Come here and look." Eve yanked the baby up, shaking him on her hip to keep him awake. She pointed at her computer.
"Yeah?"
"Read what I wrote. The Dawl want to test the baby's healing powers. I think a series of taunting notes to Angel with bits of his grandson's flesh and maybe a finger or two might make things interesting again and let the Dawl run their experiment on the brat's healing ability at the same time." Eve grinned.
Gene laughed and kissed her. "That's my girl."