1.
Buffy Summers was just putting the dog out back when she found Connor asleep on the back porch. His head was curled uncomfortably against a beam, a worn envelope tucked into his hands.
She didn’t know how long he had been out here, but after spotting the letter, she would have guessed hours. Angel had sent it from America several months ago, informing her and Connor that he would be home soon. The letter hadn’t arrived until a month ago and since then, Connor had continuously snuck out of his room to sit on the porch and scout the countryside for his father’s silhouette.
Buffy hadn’t had the heart to tell him not to, especially since Connor was an emotional, moody, European-influenced boy living in what could be considered the end of the world. The End of Days had come, but unlike the quick and brutal battle Buffy had been expecting, it had drawn on and on and on. For fifteen years, for the entire duration of Connor’s short life.
And so, she hadn’t dared take away what little hope and dreams Connor still had. Like his desire to see his father again.
She let her thoughts stray to Angel again. The past years had been difficult for both of them, what with Connor being born weeks before the End of Days had begun. They had tried living and fighting but it proved too hard with Connor there. They needed a place to hide him, to protect him; A secluded place where one of them could raise Connor while the other fought. They had argued for days and had cried for weeks, but with so many Slayers now roaming the world, it was quickly decided that Buffy would take their son and raise him far away from the battle.
Buffy could still recall the first time Connor had asked her who Angel was. It had broken her heart that Connor didn’t know him, couldn’t know him, and could only know him through her. She had shown him pictures, answered his questions, had told him everything about him. Everything. And though she knew it was difficult for him to accept what his father was, she knew that Connor loved him more than anything and would do anything to meet him.
It was, perhaps hardest on Connor than anybody, because Connor was his father’s son, and being a martyr came naturally to him.
“Maybe it’s my fault.” Connor had said once over dinner. “I mean, maybe this all happened because I was born.”
“No.” Buffy had said immediately. “No, don’t ever think that. This was coming long before the idea of you even existed. This isn’t your fault; don’t ever think that it is.”
“But what if...”
“No.”
No, he hadn’t started the End of Days, but there was a prophecy that said he would end it. She knew that if Connor knew anything of this prophecy he would have gone and fought whether Buffy supported him or not. He would have been ready to fight and die for the world.
But Buffy wasn’t. She and Angel weren’t ready for him to go and they wouldn’t let him.
Sighing, Buffy went into the laundry room and grabbed a freshly dried blanket she had washed earlier that day.
Buffy was unfolding the blanket as she pushed the creaky screen door open when she spotted a familiar silhouette in the distance. She clutched the blanket tightly and felt herself shaking.
Angel looked so... tired. Exhausted and hollowed, and so horrible that Buffy could only imagine the sorts of things he had suffered. She moved down the porch and met him halfway and held onto him so tightly she worried that she might have crushed him.
She pulled back and turned and saw Connor awake and looking so terribly unsure of himself as he stood there, watching his father. There wasn’t anything Angel could say to him, but he didn’t need to, really. Connor had read his letter so many times, and he always read the last lines twice.
I love you both. I’ll be back... I will.
2.
It had been exactly three months to the day that Connor had come to the Hyperion and had said, “I want to know you.”
During that time after, the excitement within the hotel bustled about with Cordelia and Fred showering the young man with attention, mostly buying him things like clothes and baking him food; Gunn showing Connor the ways of harsh L.A. life and his own taste in weapons and fighting; and then there was Angel, who did everything he could think of that he ever wanted and planned to do with his son.
Angel showed him tricks he had picked up over the years in battle. Showed him how he liked his swords and axes cleaned. He took great care in explaining Tai Chi to him and how it helped Angel when he couldn’t seem to stop thinking. Or brooding as Cordelia would say while passing by their training session.
When Connor asked what exactly his relationship with the Seer was, Angel would have said he loved her if he hadn’t decided on that very day that he couldn’t and would never lie to his child. If Angel could give anything to Connor that Holtz hadn’t, it was complete and utter honesty.
“She’s my best friend. But I don’t love her.” He had said while closing the weapons cabinet.
“Can... can a vampire love?” Connor asked. Angel doubted that Connor had meant that question to be offending, but he did know what Connor had been fishing for.
“Yes. He can.” Angel had answered.
So it was exactly three months to the day that Connor said, “I want to know you,” that Angel decided to show Connor a part of himself that not many people knew about. He had informed Cordelia, Fred, and Gunn that he and his son would be taking a little road trip. Just for two days. Cordelia had told them both to be careful, almost maternal in her fussing over them while Fred gave Connor a basket of chocolate chip cookies and a sweater. Gunn, overwhelmed and a bit disturbed by all the mother hen behavior, just planted his best axe in Connor’s arms and said, “When you bring my baby back, she better have some war stories to tell.”
Connor had grinned and nodded and then they were in Angel’s car and driving down long and winding roads. Connor had fallen asleep by the time the sun came up and found himself in the shadow of a tall and looming mansion. The place smelt old and musty and there wasn’t anybody inside besides his father who was making a fire. When he saw Connor, he told him to go back to sleep.
As soon as the sun set, Angel lead Connor down the street and pass many houses. They were different than the ones in L.A. Smaller, calmer, sheltered little houses with quiet people inside all settling down after a long day. Though Connor couldn’t imagine what his father had to do with such a small, sleepy place, he began to realize that there was something terribly off about this place. He just couldn’t tell what.
It wasn’t long before they came across a graveyard. Connor followed Angel up and down little hills before climbing the tallest one near a large tree. When his father stopped several feet away, Connor moved forward and looked where Angel was. There was a slab of stone in the ground, smooth and clean and untouched. There were carved words on it. And a name. A name that Connor felt no attachment to.
“Hello Buffy.” Angel said, walking closer to the headstone. “I know I haven’t visited in a while, but I brought someone I’ve wanted you to meet. His name is Connor. He’s my son.”
Connor watched quietly. The gravestone didn’t speak back, but his father let out a small chuckle.
“I know, I know, I should have told you... but there wasn’t any time. He’s a great fighter. Probably gonna be better than his old man in a few years... I wish you could see him...” Angel sighed.
Connor glanced up at the tree and it was quiet for a long while. He looked at his father again. “Dad... who was Buffy?”
Angel swallowed. “She was the only woman I ever loved.”
Connor turned back to the headstone and touched the top of it. He bit his lip, then looked back at him. “Tell me about her?”
Angel smiled and told his son about Buffy.
3.
There was a knock at the door and Buffy peered out of the kitchen, arms covered foamy bubbles, a foamy dish in her hand. She blew at wayward strands in her eyes before calling out, “Caleb, could you get the door?”
A ten year old boy seated in a large chair looked up from his book with dark eyes. The boy nodded and left the sanctuary of his book on Freyjas, Demon Birds and Others, to answer the door. He opened it and peered around the edge, only to find a little girl with red hair smiling brightly at him.
“Hi!” She shouted at him and he tried not to wince at her loud voice. “I brought your homework from school! I’m sorry you’re so sick! But you look much better Cole!”
“I’m Caleb.” The boy replied, looking annoyed at being associated with that name.
“But your name is Cole.” The little girl insisted.
“Actually, he’s Caleb.” Another boy said, coming up behind Caleb. His eyes were dark, his hair was dark as well, and his face was exactly the same as his. “I’m Connor. Cole’s taking a bath in oatmeal mix.”
The little girl let out a shriek and dropped the papers she had presented earlier in favor or running down the block. They shrugged at one another before Connor took the discarded homework and Caleb shut and locked the door.
“Who was that?” Their mother asked a moment later, drying one of the dishes.
“A girl.” Caleb said.
Connor smirked and raised his voice, “A girl for Cole!”
“Shut up!” An irritated voice shouted from upstairs.
“You shouldn’t bother your brother when he’s sick, Connor.” His mother scolded gently.
“It’s not my fault he’s allergic to Freyjas and we’re not.” Connor grumbled.
“Freyja feathers only cause allergic reactions to one out of 10.3 thousand people in the world.” Caleb said, as if reciting something he had scribbled on his arm.
“Weirdo!” A voice called out later from upstairs.
Though her boys looked a like, the little ten year olds were different. Caleb was reclusive and intelligent. He preferred to read rather than play with other children and was quite brilliant for a child his age. Cole wasn’t like Caleb at all. He was loud and outgoing, had a short temper, and was quick to pick a fight with anyone who looked at him or his brother’s strangely. When Caleb and Cole were younger, they hadn’t gotten along very well, but that was where Connor came in. He was a nice balance between the two, both smart and athletic and very kind for a ten year old. He got along great with either brother.
It was perhaps ironic that the only thing Caleb and Cole agreed on was the only thing Connor never wanted to talk about.
Their father.
The triplets could still remember when he was always with them. They could remember wrestling with their father and trying to take him down. They remembered how fiercely he had protected them from a demon who had invaded the hotel, when they used to live there. They just couldn’t remember when he suddenly wasn’t there anymore.
They had asked their mom one day and she had sat the three of them down onto her bed and had cuddled all of them as she explained.
“Do you remember Wolfram and Hart?”
They had nodded and learned that their father was now running the evil law firm. It had made no sense to them and still didn’t, really, but their mother had said that their father was trying to protect them from it. The only way he could do that was if he went away.
After they had all bathed and Cole had been coated with pink goo, to which he had glared at his mother throughout, they had settled into bed. Like last night and the night before, Caleb and Cole talked seriously about all the evil their father was probably facing. Caleb figured that their father was using smart assault tactics to sneak about the large, intimidating building. Cole argued that their dad was probably smacking people around and biting their necks and doing cool vampire stuff.
“He’s probably forgetting about us,” Was what Connor had said. After that the three boys had grown quiet and fell asleep. They had woken hours later and crawled into their mother’s bed.
When asked what was wrong, the three boys said that they just didn’t want to talk about it.
4.
Buffy had nearly missed the phone in her haste to climb out of the shower, still soapy and tired after a long day of burgers and grease. When she answered she was surprised that it was Wesley on the other line. He seemed uneasy and frazzled and he wasn’t making much sense.
“Wesley... what’s going on?” Buffy asked.
“It’s Angel... he’s missing.” Wesley answered.
A minute or two passed by before Wesley asked if she could meet him at a small motel between Sunnydale and L.A. She was familiar with it and after hanging up, rinsing off and changing, she scribbled a short note for Willow and left. When she arrived, she spotted the only car with an L.A. license plate on it and tried to swallow her heart that had somehow become lodged in her throat.
Wesley was seated at the tiny diner coinciding with the motel, a cup of coffee in his hands and several sugar sweetener and low fat milk packets scattered around him. He hadn’t touched the plate of fish and chips in front of him. Buffy sat down across from him and he let out a small greeting which Buffy returned.
“Angel’s gone.” Wesley began to explain. During which Buffy tried to wrap her mind around all the nonsense Wesley was saying. A law firm, Darla, a baby, a vampire hunter from hundreds of years ago.
“Wesley, where’s Angel?” Buffy asked, strongly and clearly.
Wesley sighed. “Holtz... he... he and Angel fell into a hell portal... another dimension... he’s not coming back.”
Buffy didn’t answer the waitress when she came by and asked if she wanted the weekly special. Wesley asked for some water and another cup of coffee. A tiny wail echoed throughout the diner.
Wesley turned to his side and jostled something up, swathed in blue blankets. It was a baby, Angel’s baby, and he was crying. Wesley shushed him and rocked him gently before asking if Buffy would like to hold him.
She did.
When he placed the bundle into her arms, she wished she could hold onto him forever. The last part of her heart was right here and she didn’t want to let it go.
5.
Angel let out a sigh as he watched Connor. It was four in the morning, they were on one of Wolfram & Hart’s private jets, and Connor was wide awake. The little boy was bouncing up and down on one of the luxury seats, his big eyes peering out of plane window.
“You should be asleep, Connor.” Angel said.
Connor shook his head, “But daddy, those are clouds! We’re in the sky!”
Angel pulled the boy into his lap and ruffled his hair. “Yes, we’re flying, but you don’t need to be up right now. It’s sleepy time.”
“But you’re not asleep.” The boy protested.
“That’s because I’m an adult, and adults don’t sleep.” Angel explained.
Connor took this information in quite seriously. Then tugged at his father’s jacket, “But Spick sleeps all the time.”
Angel felt the corners of his mouth twist up just as the curtain down the aisle was pulled. Buffy crossed her arms and stared at the two, “Angel, I thought you explained to Connor that his name is SPIKE, not Spick.”
“He’s just a little boy. He doesn’t know the difference.” Angel replied, even as Connor leapt from his arms to peer back out the window again, little hands pressed against the glass and smearing the smudges already there. “He’s excited. It’s his birthday tomorrow.”
“We’re flying!” The little boy said happily.
Buffy smiled and kissed his forehead, “Yes, we are honey.”
“I wanna fly when I grow up!” The little boy cried.
“You wanna fly an airplane.” Buffy sat down beside him, smiling.
Connor shook his head, “No! I wanna fly!”
Angel exchanged a look with Buffy. “I think he means actually flying... without the plane.”
“Oh, honey, I don’t know if you can do that.” Buffy said.
“How come?”
“Because people can’t fly.” Angel interjected.
“Why?”
“Because they don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if they could, we wouldn’t need the airplane.”
“Oh.” Connor moved away from the window and yawned. He’s tired even though he hasn’t done anything.
Buffy pulled the blanket up from under him and tucks it around him while Angel dims the lights the little boy had turned on earlier while asking what each button did. Connor sniffs and yawned again. He’s tired, but he rather not admit even though Angel and Buffy can see he is.
“I still wanna fly.” He mumbles as he falls asleep.
“Of course you will.” Angel says, reaching over and kissing Buffy softly. She sighs and holds Connor close. It’s four in the morning and the jet won’t land for another hour or so. They’ll be in Florida then, taking Connor to the beach and Disney World. Connor will want to jump right in, but Buffy will grab him and he’ll squirm while she coats both of them in SPF 30. They’ll eat sandwiches and most of Connor’s will end up in the sand while he builds sandcastles and chases birds and pokes at ocean wildlife.
At Disney World, Connor will want to ride everything. He’ll want some Mickey Mouse ears, and then he’ll want some Goofy ears because it’s unfair to favor one character over another. He’ll want to try every gooey confection he can have and Buffy will probably have a hard time getting Connor to sit still long enough so they can take pictures. At night, they’ll watch the fireworks while Connor sleeps against his shoulder, exhausted from all the excitement and sugar.
Angel stares out the window and watches the clouds go by. They really are flying.
The End
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