Chapter Two – Alitalia

He leaned back and closed his eyes, involuntarily giving in to the familiar pull of gravity and accompanying stomach flip that came with take off. Familiar. Technically, this was his first flight, although he had memories of family vacations to Disneyland, the Grand Canyon and visits to Grandma in Tucson.

He glanced at his traveling companions; they were both seated safe distances from one another, looking out windows that helpfully protected them from the sun's killer rays. Angel had stressed to him that stealing was wrong, but argued that this was worthy cause. Spike had just shrugged and rolled his eyes, apparently not seeing the dilemma. It wasn't like any Wolfram and Hart employees would be using the corporate jet anytime soon. Connor didn't even bother to ask where they'd gotten a pilot, figuring he probably wouldn't get the truth. There was no steward service, of course, so they would be left to their own devices on that one.

He tried to sit still, listen to his I-Pod for a bit, maybe read some of his book. He was exhausted, the completely wiped feeling you get after pulling one too many all-nighters in a row, but felt strangely wired. He looked up, feeling Angel's eyes on him, just to look away quickly when caught. Connor sighed and pulled his ear buds out, haltingly walking over to where Spike was seated at a small lounge area that had three chairs around a small table. The table in front of him littered with mini bottles. Connor jerked his head in Angel's direction, indicating he should join them. After a few minutes of what Connor knew was some intense internal debate, his father walked over and plunked himself down in the open seat near Spike.

Connor grabbed up some more mini bottles from the food cart and three paper cups. Apparently, Spike had been forgoing the cup part and was chugging straight from the bottles. He sat in the seat opposite the two vampires. He lined the cups up, snapping open the bottles and filling each with whiskey.

"Hey, since when are you old enough?" Angel made to swipe the little bottle from Connor's hands, eyebrows snapped together comically.

"Dad, seriously?" Connor moved his hand away at the last second, evading Angel. "I've been in college for like a year."

"Yeesh." Spike swatted Angel on the arm, chastising him mildly. "You should let the boy live a little."

Angel just rolled his eyes, but seem to relax, finally yielding. He took the offered cup and held it up towards the other two, waiting for the toast. "What are we drinking to?"

"How's 'bout to getting right and pissed?" Spike winked at Connor, who returned with an amused grin.

"Sounds like a plan." He "clinked" his paper cup against the others, avoiding Angel's reproachful glare. They all seemed to hesitate a bit before throwing their heads back at the same moment. The whiskey burned as it hit the back of his throat, and he choked and sputtered a little.

"Oh yeah," Spike was laughing now, "You're a real bad ass with the liquor, ain't ya?" He chucked Angel on the arm. "You sure this boy's yours?" He reached out and opened three more, filling the cups again.

Angel frowned and begrudgingly grabbed up the second cup. Connor could tell he was going over the dos and don'ts of parenting in his mind by the way he was eyeing him, guilt and concession dueling a little dance on his face. Connor gave Angel a crooked grin by way of apology for the situation. Angel seemed to consider saying something before simply replying with a nod, holding his cup up again. "To family."

This little ritual went on several more times. Connor couldn't really say how many, since he had lost count somewhere after four. Angel's toast had launched them down the maudlin road of remembering fallen comrades; sadly their numbers were so great that they had to drain many more little bottles. Connor was good and pleasantly numb. His limbs felt heavy and he couldn't feel his lips completely. He had found through much experimentation at college that he could handle a staggering amount of alcohol compared to a regular human, despite Spike's earlier doubt. But he suspected both vampires could drink him under the table without problem. However, he figured that they would both be at least buzzed enough to answer some questions without protest. "So, who's Buffy?"

For the better part of the next hour, he listened to the tale of a Slayer. The girl who had both been the cause of losing a soul and gaining another, who had died twice and still lived to tell the tale, and who, ultimately, had been the driving reason for the both of them. For fighting, for living, for loving.

"She sounds like a hell of a woman." Connor was aware he was slurring his words, shaking his head in what he hoped would allay Angel's naked concern.

"You don't know the half of it, ducks." Spike poured himself another drink, looking deep into the cup as if considering the contents for a long beat before throwing it back. He cleared his throat and glanced at Angel. "But, she's moved on now."

Angel grabbed up his cup and refilled it as well, sighing deeply before draining it. "She's better off that way, don'tcha think?" He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"Without you, maybe." He shot Angel a venomous glare which went unnoticed, throwing back another drink.

Angel started talking with his eyes closed. "What's the big plan, Spike?" He opened one eye and looked sideways at the other vampire. "Fly into Rome, win her back, sweep her off of her feet?" He crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his head back and closing his eyes again. Connor realized his father was quite drunk.

"Thought about it." Connor could tell from his voice that he didn't sound the least bit certain.

Connor gazed at the both of them, considering the recent sea change in atmosphere. Somewhere along the line the tone of the conversation had changed, subtlety moving from convincing him of their love for Buffy to convincing themselves that the love was still there, as unchanged and strong as ever. That was the reason as to why his father had allowed his careful control to slip and had permitted himself to become totally smashed. And why Spike had careened off into another direction, wavering close to mean and angry drunk.

Spike glared at him, irately, as if he had read his thoughts. "Right, then." He lurched to standing and grabbed up several mini bottles. He then tripped over Angel's legs, planting an open palm on the larger vampire's chest to propel himself away, staggering down the aisle towards the front of the plane. He flopped down in the front row in an obvious attempt to place as much distance between them as possible. Angel, for his part, remained unmoved, not even opening an eye, the faintest traces of a smirk playing across his lips.

Connor studied his father for a beat before attempting to stand himself. He instantly regretted the movement as the world swayed before him, forcing him to brace his hands against the small table. He shook his head to wave off Angel's concern and shimmied around the table to claim the chair previously occupied by Spike. He scooted down in the seat until he was level with Angel's head and glanced over at his father. "So, what's a shanshu?"

Angel's eyes flew open in surprise, instantly sobering. "What…where did you hear about that?"

Connor shrugged nonchalantly. "Spike mentioned it." He looked off in the direction of the other vampire. "Said you got your fucking shanshu after all." He turned his head to look at Angel. "I think he meant me."

Angel regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "That's not…" He chewed at the inside of his cheek and looked down, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. He looked back up at Connor. "I guess I never thought of it that way." He shrugged and settled back down in his seat, eyes again closed. "Could be possible. Wouldn't be the first time Wesley's made a mistake in translating."

Connor yawned sleepily. "But, what's it mean?"

Angel shifted next to him. "A vague prophecy." When he felt Connor's gaze upon him, he opened his eyes and continued. "Well, according to Wes, it said that after some big battles and a couple of apocalypses and an unspecified amount of time passes, that the 'vampire with a soul' will become human. Honestly, it could be talking about Spike as much as me."

Connor's mouth fell open. "Human?" He scoffed, taking in Angel's expression of indifference. "How's that even…"

Angel shrugged, giving him a small smile. "How do two vampires manage to have a human child?"

Connor shook his head in disbelief. "And you think this is talking about me? That I am the human you will become…or something?"

"I don't know, Connor." He sighed. "Doesn't really matter, anyways."

"Doesn't matter? Why?" He scowled at his father, miffed, then his expression softened, considering something else. "Do you even want to be human?"

Angel was silent for a long beat, deep in reflection. "I used to. It used to be all I thought of, really. I would have given anything to be with Buffy." He swallowed hard. "To be with Cordelia." Took another unneeded shaky breath. "But things are different now. I'm different. In a different place." Connor gave a knowing glance in Spike's direction. "No, its not about him, Connor. Its about me. I don't exactly have the best track record with humans. Don't know if me being human is…"

"Sodding ponce!" The answer was muffled, wafting back from the front of the plane.

Angel gave a sad smile in Spike's direction. "Pretty much every human that has come in close contact with me the last five years had ended up dead. Or worse. Like Gunn." He glared hard at his son. "Which is why I didn't want you coming…"

"Dad, I'm not exactly a normal human.

"Yes you are!"

Connor just sneered, allowing his eyes to drift closed. He could feel Angel watching him.

After a long moment, the question came, soft and tentative. "Do you want me to be human?"

Connor didn't reply since he really didn't know the answer, finally surrendering to the seduction of the alcohol which pulled him into sleep.

He didn't know how long he had been sleeping, but he awoke to a pounding headache and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Also, he was alone. He automatically raised his head looking for Angel, only to find him seated next to Spike, the smaller vampire nestled into the crook of his neck. He gripped the table and forced himself to standing, pitching himself over towards the food cart to grab a bottle of water. He was trying to be quiet as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping vampires, but knew he didn't have full control of his facilities. From his standing position he got a better look at the two of them. Their knees had drifted together, and Angel's hand casually laid upon the blonde's leg. Spike had fisted his own hand in his father's shirt in an effort to curl around the larger vampire. This was going to be one hell of a trip.

He greedily drained the remains of his water and walked towards the back of the plane, claiming his toothbrush and paste from his bag. A quick survey of the back closet thankfully yielded some aspirin and a small pillow and blankets. Connor slipped into the tiny bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face. When he emerged, he realized his attempts to be noiseless had been futile, as Angel had since moved across the aisle, head tipped against the window and long legs spread out in front of him. Connor made a makeshift bed, spreading out one of the blankets across two seats. He fell back asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, not to awake again until wheels touched tarmac.