CHAPTER FOUR

Death cancels everything but truth

William Hazlitt- "Lord Byron," The Spirit of the Age

"God, that's such a long ass drive," Faith moaned, stretching as she got out of the car.

"Try riding in the trunk most of the way." Angel rubbed his neck, slamming the passenger's side door shut. Part of him wanted to consider moving closer to Palo Alto and spare himself the drive but Connor, like most teens, wanted independence. Angel didn't need to be told that.

"You're the one who wanted to leave L.A. in the daylight," Faith reminded him, working the kinks from her shoulders.

Angel shrugged as they headed for Connor's dorm. At least his face had healed enough that people wouldn't run screaming from the sight of him and his leg only twinged a bit, having healed for the most part after all the damage from battling the Black Thorn's demon horde. "It's nearly a six hour drive to here. I didn't want to waste the night." He glanced over at her. "Thanks for driving, Faith."

She shrugged, an easy roll of her shoulders. "It beats listening to Spike whine about being in that wheelchair. I think the bastard can walk already but he wants us to wait on him."

Angel snorted. "I wouldn't put it past him. You can test it very easily. Dump him in the yard at day break. If he doesn't run for cover, you know you were wrong." He smirked, pleased with the idea.

Faith swatted him. "I didn't put up with the two of you these last few months just so you can fry Spike now. Speaking of which, did he ever call like he was supposed to?"

Angel pulled the tiny cell phone out of his pocket, peering at it. If the things got any smaller, he'd need a jeweler's loop to work it. "Does this thing have voice mail?"

Faith took it from him and he wilted under the heat of her gaze. "It's not even on, Angel...again. How hard is it?"

He made a face, contemplating long lingering deaths he'd like to inflict on the inanimate object. "I hate those things."

"Welcome to the twenty-first century," she shot back as they went inside. She turned the phone on and gave it back to him. "And don't tell me how much better things were in the good old days. I saw and smelled that cluster fuck thanks to the Orpheus trip. This is so much better."

"Faith, I don't want that kind of language around my son," Angel scolded, knocking on the door.

She snorted. "Angel, he's in a fraternity. If he has any balls at all, he's been part of a cluster fuck. It'll do him good. That kid's wound too tight."

Angel couldn't argue that part. Connor was always high strung and from Yseult's phone call, that hadn't changed. He was getting worse and Angel only wished he knew why Connor wouldn't ask for help. He thought they had reached some kind of accord in that coffee shop but obviously he misunderstood once again. Maybe Connor remembered his past life more clearly than he confessed to and it was bothering him. Angel just wished Connor would open up to him. He was certain he could help. "Faith, I'd rather not think of my son in the middle of performing bukkake on someone."

Faith shrugged. "I don't know what that is, but if it means him getting ridden hard, I'm sure it'll help."

Angel decided to forgo telling her the meaning of bukkake especially as the door opened and a wan face peered out. The young man dismissed Angel immediately, his eyes going straight to Faith's chest and never wavering. "Is Connor here?" Angel tried to drag the boy's attention to him and failed.

The boy scratched his belly like a chimp. "Nah, he went out."

Was the boy trying to guess Faith's bra size, incite her to kill him or did he think this was a turn on for her? Angel couldn't tell. "Do you know where?"

The lusting eyes finally peeled away from Faith and fell into suspicious slits as the boy was forced to acknowledge Angel's existence. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm his girlfriend," Faith said, obviously irritated at the blatant ogling from an equally blatant prick. "Where'd my little love muffin go?"

Angel tried not to laugh at the idea of Faith using the word 'love muffin or applying it to Connor. She needed to stop drinking with Lorne.

The teen rolled his eyes. "You the girl he was whining and crying all night about? The one the cops were looking for 'cause you ran off or something."

"I'm his L.A. girl." Faith smiled flatly, but Angel could tell she was on high alert same as he was. She also looked tempted to kick this kid's ass. "You're saying Yseult is missing?"

He shrugged. "I guess. He was weeping like a girl, calling his mommy all night. Even they didn't want to hear him whining."

Angel resisted the urge to throttle the kid. "So, do you know where Connor went?"

"So long as I didn't have to listen to him, I could give shit. He took his knife with him." The boy slapped his thumb and forefinger in the shape on a L to his forehead. "He's always out at night, acting like the caped crusader or something, like that knife is gonna impressed some girl. No offense, sweet lips, but you can do better than him." He added that direct to Faith, who curled said sweet lips at him. "He belongs in a psych ward."

"Whatever." Her fingers curled and uncurled and Angel knew she wanted those digits around the boy's throat, squeezing until his eyes popped or maybe Angel was just transferring his own desired onto her. "Any clue where he'd go?"

"If Yseult's gone, not a clue." He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Could be hanging with his brothers at the Sigma Chi house but why they took that loser, I couldn't tell you."

"Come on, Faith." Angel tapped her elbow, knowing they'd get nowhere with this idiot. They headed down the hall.

"Where do you want to start looking for him?" Faith shot him a dubious look. "His girlfriend's? Do we even know where that is?"

Angel shook his head. "I can pick up his trail once we get out of here. This building is a little...ripe."

She snorted. "That's a dorm for you. Men are pigs"

Angel's phone rang, playing AC/DC's Dirty Deeds Done Dirty Cheap. He glared at it. "Damn that Spike, always changing my ring tones. Hello? Spike, what have I told you about playing with...what? What do you mean? Play the damn message." Listening to it, Angel felt the hooks go into his soul, ripping it to shreds. The phone fell from nerveless fingers and he had to reach for the wall to steady himself.

Faith scooped up the phone. "Angel, what's wrong? Spike?" The phone had disconnected in the fall. She reached for Angel but he was already running for the door. She tore after him. "Angel, what is it?"

"We'll go no more a'roving," Angel muttered, spinning around outside, trying frantically to catch his son's scent in the night air.

She yanked him to a stop, picking up on his rising panic. "You aren't making any damn sense."

"We'll go no more a'roving, it's a poem about death. Connor left me a suicide note on the answering machine, Faith. He went off to die," Angel snarled, pulling away from him.

"Damn," she whispered. "Can you track him? Maybe we'll find him first."

Angel didn't answer her, taking off across the quad. Her words were his only hope. Spike said the message was time stamped just an hour before. If he was fast enough, if he could track good enough, he might be able to save his son but for what? He already tried to save Connor from suicide once and this was his reward. That fact wouldn't stop him from trying again. He would have the same resolve Buffy had shown that Christmas eve when he tried to give in to his own pain.

At least his son's scent was strong, even with the confusing mix caused by many students being out and about on a weekend. Very few of their trails led towards a church. That would suit Connor's sense of theatrics, Angel knew that much about his son. He broke into a flat out run that Faith was barely able to keep up with. He didn't need to follow the trail now. He knew that had to be where Connor went, knew it instinctively deep to the bone.

He was nearly run down by a truck as he raced across the street. Tears started forming in his eyes. They were too late. He could smell blood, strong and heady. His demon growled in hunger and he felt something die inside him as he spotted Connor by a tree. His son was sprawled on the grass, perfumed in copper.

"Aw, fuck no," Faith moaned, nearly plowing into Angel as the vampire momentarily froze.

Angel couldn't talk. His knees hit ground hard. He felt the blood seeping into the cloth of his pants. God, was that a heart beat? Angel had never had time for God or any real belief be it as a mortal man or afterwards. Buffy's story about being in heaven was the only thing that made him think maybe it could be real and he'd give just about anything for that faint, sluggish heart beat to be real. Angel gathered his son up in his arms. There was no denying the faltering warm breath curling against his neck. Angel staggered to his feet.

"Angel...we probably shouldn't move him. The police will..." Faith trailed off.

"He's not dead, Faith." Angel's voice was ragged, thick. "He's hanging on but not by much. We have to get him to the hospital."

Faith looked like she wanted to suggest an ambulance or something but didn't. Angel was already running awkwardly towards the parking lot where they left the car, heedless of what it might look like to be carrying a body through a college campus. She turned on the cell phone and made a call to Lilith, the local Slayer's Watcher. "Lil', need to know the closest hospital to Stanford...yeah, meet us there."

Angel heard the directions and didn't wonder why Faith wanted the Watcher there. All he could think about was the failing heartbeat inside his son's chest. He ignored the demon telling him to finish the boy off, turn him, keep Connor with him forever. He slammed his body into the backseat with Connor and Faith screamed away from the parking lot.

He held Connor close, his cheek resting on the young man's head. "Just hold on, son. You can't die now. Please, just fight a little. Don't give in." Angel listened to the heartbeat slowing and wept.