When In Rome

By Adjovi

When he finally awoke, the sun had already begun its slow descent towards the horizon, tinting the room with a faint orange hue. He couldn't remember when he had first discovered that he could accurately guess where the sun hung in the sky without looking at a clock, but it had been a neat trick at college parties. 4:07PM. He cracked an eye and glanced at the glowing blue digital numbers, not at all surprised to find he was right. He rubbed at his eyes, they felt sticky and hazy, and he was sore from lying in the same position for so long. He sat up with a start, the events of the previous evening suddenly rushing in. His stomach flipped, and he heaved himself off of the side of the bed in preparation, but apparently there was nothing left inside.

He stood and walked rather unsteadily towards the dusty mirror that was perched precariously at the back of the dresser. Anytime he opened any of the drawers, the big piece of glass tottered and threatened to fall down. He sighed, taking in his reflection. He looked like hell—eyes puffy and clothes a mess. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten it a bit but knowing his actions were in vain. He considered a shower, but his stomach grumbled in protest, an all-too-human reaction that he couldn't ignore.

He walked into the hallway, mechanically turning towards the room which held his father and Spike. He hesitated a bit at the door, unsure of what to do. He heard voices from inside, one low and urgent, the other drowsy yet placating. He easily placed the owner of each without much thought, accents notwithstanding. He found himself intensely relieved to hear Angel speak. The voices stopped suddenly, probably sensing his presence, so he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen.

He paused a bit before entering, still feeling a bit awkward around "the Scoobies", as Spike referred to them. There was a clear line of demarcation among the residents of the safe house. Spike, Angel and himself. And then everybody else. And everybody else unmistakably held him suspect because he was associated with the "other" camp. He took a deep breath and soldiered on in.

The four people gathered around the table comprised the core of the in-crowd. Xander. The man who plainly hated both Angel and Spike with equaling amounts of intensity, and whose anger was compounded by the fact that neither of them held him in anything more than mild disdain. Dawn. Buffy's sister, who he thought might have a crush on him, but was obviously out of the question given the fact that her sister dated both Spike and his father. Willow. Connor felt incredibly uncomfortable around her, as he knew that she sensed something about him by the way she seemed to try and stare right through him. And Buffy. He actually didn't know how he felt about her. On the one hand, he knew that she was wary of him, could tell she was constantly studying him, jealous of the time he spent with the vampires. But, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy towards her as well, as she seemed so sad and broken since they had arrived in Rome.

They all looked up guiltily at him, truncating their conversation at his entrance. They had obviously been talking about either Angel, Spike or himself, or any combination thereof. Willow gave a small wave and a smile in an attempt to dissipate the uneasiness. Connor returned with an uncertain nod.

Xander leaned back in his seat, taking Connor in with a bemused glance. "So…what's your deal, kid? Up at the crack of dusk…you livin' la vida vampire these days?"

Connor did his best to ignore him by scratching at his chin distractedly, looking around for something to eat.

Dawn stood up, wincing as her chair screeched. "Um, are you hungry?" She opened the fridge and peeked inside. "I just made some spaghetti…"

Connor shook his head. "No, thanks. I was thinking maybe something more along the lines of cereal." He took the proffered milk that Dawn held behind her back as she looked deeper into the fridge for something more breakfast appropriate. He reached up to a cabinet above his head and pulled down a bowl, finding the cereal stashed nearby. He scrunched his nose. Weetabix? What the hell was that? He tore open the box and warily looked inside. Looked healthier than he was used to; he didn't see any miniature marshmallows in the shapes of stars and four-leaf-clovers. Well…beggars can't be choosers. He sighed and poured some into the bowl, then liberally dumped a few spoonfuls of sugar overtop.

Buffy made a moue of distaste in his direction. "Your teeth are going to rot out of your head."

He felt their eyes watching him as he pulled out a chair and sat down, and began shoveling the food into his mouth. Not too bad. Tasted better than he'd expected, and he liked the texture. He hadn't realized how hungry he had been.

"Slow down, there, tiger." Xander chucked him on the arm. "You have to breathe or you're going to choke."

He felt Buffy's expression soften a bit as she watched him closer, and when he finally glanced up, she seemed to be regarding him with knowing compassion. He guessed that he looked worse than he had thought. She cleared her throat. "Rough night, huh?"

Connor tried to keep his emotions in check, not reveal too much, but knew he failed when she just kept looking at him with sympathy. He tried for indifference and simply shrugged.

"Were you hurt?" Dawn asked him gently, raking her eyes over his neck for any signs of wounds.

He shook his head. "Nah…I'm ok." He tilted the cereal bowl, draining the rest of the milk and wiping his forearm across his mouth. "We…just ran into some problems last night."

"We…who?" Buffy was leaning forward interestedly, as were the others. She tilted her head back, seeming to suddenly understand something. "Who got hurt?"

Connor fiddled with the spoon in his bowl, the metal tinging off of the ceramic. "Angel. He's going to be ok, though." He hoped.

Buffy leaned forward, closing in on Connor's space but Willow placed a staying hand on her arm. "What happened?" The witch's voice was soft, tentative.

Connor was saved when Spike strode into the kitchen just then, obviously seeking him out when he visibly relaxed a bit once the boy came into view. Connor saw him stiffen when he saw the others, but Spike shrugged it off, attempting to maintain his careful cool. Spike looked very pale and drawn, and Connor couldn't help but notice the vampire had taped a large bandage over his neck and another over his wrist. Apparently, the others noticed as well.

"So…what was it?" Xander tilted his head in the direction of Spike's neck. "What got you?"

Spike absently fingered the bandage, shooting a vaguely guilty look in Connor's direction before speaking. "It was a…demon." He wasn't exactly lying, he just wasn't revealing which demon had done the damage. He changed the subject abruptly by turning his attention to the abandoned cereal box on the counter. "Weetabix?" He picked up the box and grinned. "Old Rupert remembered."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "As if." She grabbed the box from him and shoved it into the cabinet then turned back to face Spike, leaning back against the counter.

Buffy cleared her throat. "Where's Angel?" She glanced at Connor before turning her stony gaze towards Spike again. "Connor said he was hurt."

Spike wiped at invisible lint from the front of his shirt and blinked rapidly a few times, eyes trained on the ground. He sighed and looked back up at her. "He's going to be ok, Slayer. Just needs some rest, is all."

"What. Happened?" Buffy spoke through clenched teeth.

Spike mimed holding a machine gun in both hands. "Big demon. Big gun." He glanced over at Connor, giving him a small smile of encouragement. "We patched him up, though."

"I want to see him." Buffy crossed her arms over her chest.

"Not a good idea. Look pet…he really just needs his beauty sleep, is all. " He tried to smile at her but was met with an angry scowl. "He'll be fine."

"Jeez, Buff, it's not like bullets are a vampire's kryptonite or anything." Xander smirked at her, attempting to draw a smile. "They weren't wooden bullets, were they?" Connor saw Faith move into the room, careful to remain on the outside of the group, listening.

"Nah. Ordinary variety." Spike opened the fridge and poked around inside, pulling out a container of blood. He reached up into the cabinet and pulled down two mugs, filling each about halfway and placing them both into the microwave. They all watched in silence for a moment as the mugs swirled around each other on the carousel inside. The machine dinged and Spike reached inside claiming the mugs, setting one down on the counter. He reached up and pulled out the box of cereal, crumbling a bit into his own mug before drinking, ignoring the general looks of disgust from the room.

Giles came in, casting his eyes around the room before settling on Connor. "Ah. Connor. There you are." Connor shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I need to speak with your…" He cut himself off, eyes going wide. He cleared his throat and started again. "Where is Angel? I need to speak with him."

"Sorry, Rupes, but Angel's out of commission just now." Spike leaned back languidly and took another sip of his blood.

Giles sighed again, not trying to hide any irritation he had towards the blonde vampire. "Yes. Well. I think he may be very interested in what I have to say to him, so if you wouldn't mind, would you please fetch him…"

Spike cut him off. "In fact, I do mind. Look, Watcher, whatever you need to say to Angel you can say to me."

Giles ran a hand over his face, exasperation marring his features. "This is no concern of yours, Spike." He spat out the vampire's name as if it were poison. "This has to deal with…" he cast a significant glance in Connor's direction. "So, if you please…"

Spike straightened, carefully laying the mug down. He glared menacingly at Giles, clearly not giving an inch, and when he spoke, his voice was low and deadly. "Angel's not to be bothered right now."

Everyone in the room stared at the vampire with looks ranging from bewilderment to outright shock. "Gee, Spike, since when did you give two shits about Angel, anyways?" Xander scoffed at him. "Thought you two hated each other."

Spike shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Things change." His gaze never wavered from the Watcher's face.

"Things change." Buffy agreed, her voice quiet and sad. Connor knew she had intended for only Spike to hear. The vampire turned towards her, eyes wide with regret and surprise.

Connor couldn't bear the tension in the room any longer. He was exhausted and felt like he was dancing on the razor's edge as it was. He wasn't in any position to deal with prophecies, pushy Watchers, territorial vampires, or wounded Slayers. He stood and walked out of the room without further pretense, ignoring Spike's "Where the hell do you think you're going?", and made a bee-line for the weapons cabinet. He pulled at the doors, the lock gave without much pressure at all, and his eyes skipped over the contents before settling on a broadsword. Angel would approve. He hefted it in his hands, testing its weight. He didn't turn when he heard Andrew approach from behind.

"Did Mr. Giles sign that out for you? Because he has a strict policy…" He was cut off when Connor turned to face him, sword leveled at his chest.

"Get out of my way, Andrew." He stepped around the boy and ran down the stairs, taking two at a time. The air outside felt good against his skin and he moved through the twilight with purpose, trying to place as much space between him and the safe house. He had unwittingly retraced the path to where Angel had taken him vamp hunting before. He was eager to find something to help him relieve his stress, and soon enough he heard three voices approaching, no heartbeats. He smiled.

The whole thing was over too quickly. That was the problem with vamps. Once they were dust, that was it. Can't really keep beating the crap out of a pile of dust without looking all "Fight Club" crazy. He bent down to pick up a stake the big one had knocked out of his hands, freezing when he felt someone approaching. He looked up, expecting to see Spike. He was totally thrown to find Faith standing there.

"Nice." She stepped towards him, scattering some of the vamp dust with her toe. "Angel teach you those moves?"

Connor shoved the stake back into his pocket and stood to his full height. "Some."

"More like all." She smiled at him then, giving him a knowing glance. "Needed to get out of there, huh?" He just shrugged at her. "Yeah. I know what that's like." She was wearing a revealing tank top and black jeans, her long hair framing her face.

Connor sighed. "I don't even know what we're doing in Rome. I mean, Angel said it was because they were in danger, but they're always in danger."

Faith laughed at him. "Isn't it obvious?"

He had been cleaning the sword with the edge of his t-shirt, and he froze, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Isn't what obvious?"

Faith shrugged. "They needed to see B." She looked at him hard as if willing him to understand. "Needed to see if there was still something there. Probably were both as shocked as hell to find out they'd been the ones to move on." She studied him for a bit before speaking again. "So…how long have they been…."

He glanced up at her, then continued wiping the sword in earnest even though it was already clean. "Been…what?"

She smirked at him again. "Oh please. Don't even pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. I think even Buffy knows, though she'd never admit it."

He placed the sword point to the ground and pulled at the end of his shirt, assessing whether it was ruined or not. "Dunno. It's not like we talk about it or anything."

Faith was silent for another beat, watching him, not speaking until he looked back up at her. "Whatever. None of my business. It's their lives, right? Or unlives, as the case may be. Shame really." She grinned at him. "How do you feel about getting nice and drunk with me? Or are you in a big hurry to get back there?" Connor's mouth parted and then snapped shut again. He was conflicted, but Faith voiced aloud the reason for his indecision. "He'll be fine. He has like 12 million babysitters, and they all need to get through Spike first." She reached out for the sword and tossed it behind a dumpster. "We'll get it later. Come on." He followed.

She led him to what looked like an old cathedral that had been converted into a trendy club. She waltzed them past the velvet ropes and throngs of waiting patrons up towards a very big bouncer with a clipboard. Connor heard the steady thump-thump of the music from inside. "Thought you said we were going drinking?"

Faith flashed a smile at him. "Oh, drinking will be involved." She turned towards the bouncer, heaving her chest out a bit and pouting her lips seductively. "Fabrizio!"

The bouncer turned towards her, a big smile on his face. He gave Connor a once-over before turning back towards Faith, slowly drawing his eyes over her low neckline. He reached forward and kissed the air beside both sides of her face. "Faith! You look beautiful as always, principessa."

"Thanks. Can we get in tonight?" She linked her arm with Connor.

"But of course." He unlinked the rope and ushered them towards the door, ignoring the groans of protests from the front of the line.

The place was indeed a converted church, the large stained-glass windows creating crazy refracted patterns on the floor when the strobe lights passed over them. The main bar was placed where the nave would have been and the dance floor laid over where the congregation would have sat. Large crosses and other religious icons hung from the ceilings, eerily glowing from the blacklights trained on them. Faith expertly weaved her way through the writhing crowd. Connor was barely able to keep up, clinging to a small piece of fabric on the back of her shirt. She led him to an open space at the bar, waving at the bartender to get his attention. "Dante!"

He smiled when he saw her, kissing her as the bouncer had outside. "The usual, my love?"

She returned the smile. "Make it two."

The usual, as it turned out, was a shot of tequila with a beer chaser. They had finished up the second usual and were about to begin on the third when she leaned in towards him, placing her hand on his knee. He closed his eyes, feeling the effects of the alcohol pretty acutely, considering he had slept little and eaten less. "So…what's your deal with Angel?"

He blinked at her, trying to come up with a believable lie but finding he was having a hard time thinking at all with her chest so close to his sightline. "He…uh…he helped me out." He shifted towards her, moving closer in his seat, trying to focus on the conversation.

She was tracing lazy circles on his knee with her finger. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he murmured, moving closer still, staring at her lips. She grinned at him and leaned back, draining her beer.

"So, you figured…what? You'd just follow him to Rome?" She indicated to Dante to bring her another. "Isn't that a little…strange?"

He ran his finger over the lip of his own beer and smiled drowsily at her. "Yeah." When she just looked at him oddly, he reared back, startled. "Wait. No." He shook his head to clear it. "What are you asking?"

She smirked at him. "Whoa dude…you're totally drunk." She chuckled again. "I was just saying wasn't it a little strange…" she trailed off, catching sight of something behind him. He turned his head as well, just in time to see Spike hauling Angel towards the doorway.

Connor jumped up from his seat and ran over towards them. He could tell that Angel was in pain by the careful way he moved, and by the way Spike was lightly supporting his arm. Anger lanced through his drunken stupor, quickly sobering him. "Dad?!?" Both vampires froze and turned as one. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "What do you think?" He gently tugged Angel's arm again towards the exit. "There. You've seen him. Satisfied yet?"

Angel unsuccessfully tried to wrench himself out of the other vampire's grip just as Faith came up. "Hey there, big guy. Join us for a drink?"

Angel licked his lips and glanced at Connor before smiling at Faith. "Sure." He linked his arm in hers and let himself be led towards the bar.

Spike rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. "Such a wanker." He sighed and looked at Connor. "Come on, then."

Faith had found a small table with high chairs near the bar and she ordered over enough drinks for all of them. Angel was avoiding both Spike's and Connor's glares and downed his drinks like a champ, wincing as he swallowed. When the song changed, Faith jerked her head back in the direction of the dance floor and looked pointedly at Connor. "Wanna dance?"

Connor ducked his head. "I don't dance."

Spike chuckled. "Must be genetic," he mumbled under his breath, then held his hand out to Faith. "Come on, luv. Let's show them how it's done." She took his hand and followed him out onto the dance floor.

Connor waited until they were out of range before speaking, fury winning out over concern. "Dad…what the fuck were you thinking?"

Guilt washed over Angel's face. "Look…I'm sorry …I was just worried…"

Connor cut him off. "You can barely stand! Jesus, dad!"

Angel closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I'm fine." He looked up at his son, and Connor could see the evident pain in his eyes belying his words. "I just…"

"Just what? I'm fine." Connor tightened his hands around his beer. "You should be in bed resting. Not out here, looking for me in some club."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your night." He looked down at his own drink, staring at the contents. "It's just that Spike said you were pretty upset last night. I wanted to see if you were ok."

Connor's gaze softened at this, and he sighed heavily himself. "Well, yeah. It's kind of upsetting having to dig a crapload of bullets out of my father's back. After he saved my life. Again." Angel flinched at this, but he continued on. "But, I'm fine. I don't need you checking up on me."

"I'm sorry. I can go." He moved as if to stand, grimacing slightly at the pain the movement caused, stopping when he felt Connor's hand on his arm.

"Dad…I just…" He was searching for the words, grateful that the alcohol in his system was allowing him to speak his mind. He looked directly into his father's eyes. "Yeah. Ok. Last night was kinda rough. On all of us." He looked down at the table and then back up at Angel, steeling himself for what he was about to admit. "Didn't really help that I was reminded of the first time that you took a bullet for me."

Angel's eyes widened at the memory and his lips parted. "Connor, I'm so sorry…"

Connor removed his hand from Angel's arm. "Jesus, dad! You saved me, ok? You don't have to be sorry. I'm the one who's sorry."

Angel looked as if he was going to speak, but stopped when Spike and Faith sauntered up, reclaiming their chairs. Spike's eyed Angel worriedly but his father just nodded almost imperceptibly, indicating that he was ok.

The conversation remained light from then on out as they all exchanged accounts demon fighting, close calls and narrow escapes. Connor found himself incredibly rapt when Angel was finally coaxed (by Spike) into spinning the tale of slaying a dragon, wishing that he could have seen that. He could tell they were all pretty drunk by this point, as the storytelling had been helped along with the aid of copious amounts of tequila and beer. He turned his head towards Faith when he felt her tug at his hand. "Wanna get out of here?" He glanced over at Angel, but his attention was completely focused on Spike. Connor could see their fingers loosely linked under the table, obviously as drunk as he was. "Come on. I don't think they'll notice." He let Faith lead him out of the club, grateful when Angel didn't follow. Summer was drawing to a close and he smiled as he realized that although he had yet to taste any gelato, he was near to discovering two out of the three things he had come to Rome to find.