"What was my mother like?"
The first time his young son asked him the question, Angel lied. He didn't yet want his son knowing of the horror and terror Darla had left in her wake over her many centuries. He didn't want Connor knowing Darla the monster. He first wanted his son to know the woman who staked herself to save him, the vampire who shared his son's soul and loved him for it, the human who was conflicted and soft and accepting of her own fate.
Years later, when Connor asked the question again, Angel told the truth. He told his son of Darla's many years of blood and carnage, of her lust for violence, of her sadistic love of torture. He told his son of the decades of decadence, terror and indulgence, of the body count and the innocent humans turned into monsters. He told his son of the Whirlwind and the exhilarating nature of it. He let his son know that for centuries his parents were the monsters of childhood nightmares.
Connor never regretted asking about his mother, but occasionally, in his secret put-away heart, he feared what monstrous traits had been passed on to him through his mother and father.