New fic: The Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
The Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living (WIP)
Author: Lee
Pairing: Buffy/Angel (eventually), Dawn/Connor
Rating: Adult, overall. This chapter, PG.
Summary: The first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: decide what you want. -Ben Stein
Notes: Title taken from Socrates in Plato's Apology. Huge thanks to marenfic and cornerofmadness for their beta duties. This is written for the B/A CYA ficathon run by leni_ba. Italicized dialogue in the beginning is taken from the episode "Chosen", written by Joss Whedon.
”I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m going to turn out to be. I make it through this and the next thing and the next thing and maybe one day I turn around and realize I’m ready. I’m cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat me . . . or enjoy warm, delicious cookie-me, then that’s fine. That’ll be then. When I’m done.”
Angel stared at Buffy, thinking over what she just said. It certainly wasn’t the direction he expected the conversation to take, but Buffy had always surprised him, even from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. “Any thoughts on who might enjoy. . . do I have to go with the cookie analogy?”
Buffy shook her head. “I’m not really thinking that far ahead. That’s kinda the point.”
After promising to get the second front ready, he turned and walked away, his mind telling him to get back to L.A. as quickly as possible because of Connor, his soul screaming at him to stay with Buffy. For as much as Connor hated him, Angel couldn’t, wouldn’t give up on his son. Before he could disappear into the shadows, Buffy’s voice stopped him yet again.
“Angel. I do sometimes think that far ahead.”
“Sometimes is something,” he said calmly, his dead heart nearly beating with long-forgotten joy.
“It’ll be a long time coming. Years, if ever.” Her voice was firm, resolute, with just a tiny a bit of hope. Hope that Angel clung to desperately.
Grinning ruefully, he told her, “I ain’t getting any older,” before fading away into the night.
Angel shook his head as the plane began its descent. While thoughts of Buffy had been his frequent companion over the years, particularly the first few years after he left Sunnydale, they’d made rare appearances the last several years, when his life had become more and more complicated. When it got be too much, when thoughts of Connor and Cordelia, hell goddesses, evil law firms and dead friends threatened to overwhelm, he often longed for the relative simplicity of his early years in Sunnydale. Although his relationship with Buffy had never been simple, it’d been. . . easy, in its own way: help the Slayer and her friends, love the Slayer. Then he lost his soul and what had once been so simple, suddenly became torturous.
He had moved to Los Angeles to escape and, he could now admit to himself, to forget what he once had. Every night when he stared into the dark sky, thinking of Buffy and her golden hair, or her eyes the color of moss, or any of the multitudes of reasons why he loved her, he knew that forgetting her was something he would never do. Couldn’t do. She was as ingrained into his very being as his soul, though he failed to appreciate the irony that his greatest love and desire was also his greatest downfall.
But life had gone on, and he surrounded himself with friends and his work. Thoughts of Buffy, though never truly gone, became less frequent. The birth of his son, and his subsequent kidnapping and reappearance, turned Angel’s life into a roller coaster of vengeance and retribution and sacrifice. All too soon he had found himself at Wolfram & Hart, straight into the belly of the beast he had once sworn to destroy. Too soon he had changed from the vampire saving lost souls and seeking redemption into Mr. Angel, his mission now to appease evil rather than fight it. Thoughts of Buffy, and the life he had once had, became too painful, too much of a reminder of what he had lost, so he deliberately shoved them aside.
Until last week when he finalized his plans to visit Connor, now studying at Oxford. Only in the last few months had his son slowly begun to accept Angel and his place in his life. After surviving the battle with the Senior Partners two years ago, Angel kept his distance from Connor, appearing infrequently and only at his son’s request. He lived for those rare moments, a cup of coffee here, a dinner there. The visits were tense, Connor angry and resentful but not knowing how to express it, Angel willing to accept whatever place he had in Connor’s life. Slowly, Connor began to open up, although the first few months had been extremely difficult as he processed the pain of the memories from his other life. They had seen it through and even though it was still strained at times, they’d settled into a comfortable relationship.
Once he had made plans to visit Connor, thoughts of Buffy had overwhelmed him again. He knew she wasn’t in London, she was still in Rome according to the last email he had received from Willow. Thoughts of London and the work Connor was doing with the reestablished Watchers Council inevitably led him back to Buffy. He found himself once again lost in memories of Buffy and their times together, particularly their most recent meeting. She had said someday, and once his life becamehis again, he clutched to that hope desperately.
Now he was in London, Rome only a stone’s throw away, and he was terrified.
***
Angel stepped off the escalator at baggage claim and looked for Connor. His son had promised to pick him up at the airport, but Angel was afraid he had been stood up. Bending down to grab his bag from the carousel, he sighed. He wasn’t surprised Connor hadn’t picked him up, but he had been hoping the visit would have begun on a brighter note.
“Dad!”
He looked up, surprised not only to hear Connor’s voice, but also to hear his son call him dad. It had been an infrequent occurrence even as their relationship had deepened, and each time he heard it, Angel felt a rush of joy he had all too rarely experienced. It was much like the happiness he had felt when Buf-
“Sorry I’m late, but my girlfriend was running behind,” Connor explained breathlessly as he ran up to Angel, his wide grin more for the mention of his girlfriend.
Angel nodded and moved to hug Connor, hesitant and unsure that his son would accept such open affection. He was surprised when Connor welcomed the hug.
“Blaming the girlfriend, huh? Probably not the wisest course of action,” Angel teased. The main reason for this visit with Connor was to meet his new girlfriend. He had been dating her for almost eight months, and Angel knew that for Connor to want his father to meet her, it was a serious relationship. “Where is the bonnie lass who has stolen my son’s affections?”
“She’s waiting at the car.” Connor grabbed Angel’s bag and steered his father toward the arrivals lane. “C’mon, I can only park at the front for about ten minutes, and I used eight of those trying to find you.” Once upon a time, the words would have been filled with harsh rebuke, but now it was said with affection and teasing. Angel’s heart warmed to hear the easy, carefree tone, when for so long his conversations with Connor had been marked with painful, angry words.
“How are your studies? What about the work with the Watchers Council? It’s not too much, is it? Juggling work and school?” Angel couldn’t stop the rush of questions that poured out of him. He wanted to take advantage of Connor’s good mood and the easy camaraderie between them. Conversations could easily turn into a battlefield, and though Angel feared his prodding could easily ruin the good start of his visit, he couldn’t help himself.
Connor pursed his lips before replying, a scowl threatening to break free, and Angel knew he had done the wrong thing. Before he could apologize, Connor’s face cleared and he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in a way eerily reminiscent of the way Darla’s eyes gleamed after a kill. Angel closed his eyes briefly, willing away thoughts of his past with Darla, before turning back to his son.
“Classes are fine. I don’t know if I’ll take any summer studies. It’d be nice to only concentrate on one thing, you know?” Soon after his arrival in London, Connor’s true nature had once again surfaced and he began to hunt vampires. He heard about Buffy from his father, and while he met Faith once before, he never truly experienced firsthand the power of a Slayer. Until he stumbled across one in a dark alley two months after his arrival. Wary of the young girl and her Watcher, he ran back to his flat. His life was confusing enough as it was, he didn’t need to add Slayers and Watchers and rules and regulations to it. That didn’t stop the Council from finding him and asking him to join them in fighting the evil forces. He refused at first, but after speaking with his father about it, he called Rupert Giles, head of the Council, and accepted. Neither a Slayer nor a Watcher, Connor fought on his own terms, but also helped the Council with research, specifically translations of ancient texts.
That was how he met his girlfriend, who was in the “junior Watcher training program,” as she joked the first time he meet her. They quickly connected, and for the first time, Connor felt he had found someone who truly understood him, both sides of him. His girlfriend had grown up with the supernatural, and even heard stories of Connor, the human son of two vampires. He didn’t have to hide who he was, or what he had been. Realizing how special this girl was, and that what he felt went far beyond mere lust, he invited his father to London to meet her and to show Angel his new life.
Angel could tell Connor was nervous about introducing him to his girlfriend. Connor had given him scant information about his relationship, but even through the transatlantic calls, Angel could hear the love and pride in Connor’s voice. He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and said, “Son, I have no doubt I will like her. I promise to be on my best behavior.” He added the final with a smile, his voice light.
Finally reaching Connor’s car, Angel grimaced when he saw the small vehicle. His legs started to ache at the sight of the tight, cramped quarters. The pain, and every thought in his head, vanished when Connor’s girlfriend stepped from the car and Angel got his first look at the woman who had come to mean so much to his son. The long brown hair, the bright blue eyes, the long and once gangly now graceful limbs. . .
Dawn Summers.
And the terror he felt at being so close to Buffy for the first time in years increased tenfold.
***
“Hi Angel,” Dawn said, her blinding smile reminding him of Buffy’s. Buffy. . . oh god, was Buffy here in London? Had she moved to be closer to Dawn? Was he going to-
“Dad? You alright?” The concern in Connor’s voice snapped Angel back to attention, but when he glanced over at his son, Connor’s wide grin told him that he had known exactly who Dawn was and, more importantly, whose sister she was. He was going kill his son.
“H-hi, Dawn. What. . . I mean. . . it’s good to see you,” he finished lamely, before Dawn threw herself into his arms. She hugged him tightly and he couldn’t stop the gentle kiss he pressed to her hair. This was the girl who had chased him around the Summers living room as he waited for her older sister, the girl who threatened to stake him when he broke up with Buffy. . . he knew the memories were false, implanted by the monks, but they were precious memories nonetheless. They weren’t any less real to Angel, and now the little girl was before him, a young, vibrant woman in her place.
Angel cleared his throat and stepped back from Dawn. His thoughts were a chaotic jumble; fear over seeing Buffy again, joy at the sight of the beautiful woman Dawn had become, exasperation at his son for concealing the identity of his girlfriend, anger at himself for allowing his emotions to completely overwhelm him . . . . The easy, comfortable visit with Connor and his girlfriend that Angel wanted had taken an unexpected turn and Angel didn’t know what to do next. Coming to London to see Connor had definitely brought back thoughts of Buffy, but Angel had assumed they would remain exactly that: thoughts. Now with his love’s sister standing in front of him, the possibility that he might see Buffy again was terrifyingly real.
A loud honk from a car behind them broke Angel’s trance. “We should probably go. Didn’t you say this was short-term parking, Connor?”
“Yeah, we should go. Hop in the back, Angel. Or as much as you can,” Connor replied, an evil glint in his eyes teasing his father.
“Did you have to buy the smallest car imaginable?” Angel grumbled as he attempted to arrange himself in the back so that his knees were not up by his ears. He was unsuccessful. Dawn giggled at his predicament and the sound was an echo from times past. An image flashed before his eyes of a young Slayer not yet called, laughing as the bright sun washed over her, innocence surrounding her like a golden halo. He groaned softly as the image was quickly replaced with one from the day that wasn’t. Buffy’s soft giggle as he carried her from the ruined kitchen table to the bedroom echoed in his mind. He had only been here a few minutes and already everything was reminding him of Buffy. He’d go crazy before the visit was over if this kept up.
He caught Connor’s gaze in the rearview mirror and scowled at his only son. His glare, which had once terrified Europe, was apparently as effective on Connor as it had been with Cordelia. His threats, his warnings, she had all but ignored them, particularly when it came to shopping with his money. She’d been headstrong and determined, stubborn and willful, and he missed her every single day. He and Connor had only discussed Cordelia a time or two, both still overwhelmed by her absence in their lives, Angel with the pain of losing his best friend, Connor with losing one of the few people who had ever mattered to him.
But now was not the time to think of Cordelia. It was time to visit with his son, catch up with Dawn, and try to escape his memories of Buffy.
****
After suggesting that they stop for a bite to eat, Angel was pleasantly surprised when Connor mentioned that he had made reservations for the three of them at The Restaurant on Bond Street. He wasn’t surprised, however, when Connor informed him that Angel would be paying because, as a poor university student, Connor just didn’t have the money. Considering he deposited money each month into Connor’s bank account, Angel knew he was weaseling his way out of paying. After all, wasn’t that the son’s job?
Angel was pleased with Connor’s selection. The dark wood paneling and fireplace echoed the pubs and taverns of his past, but the crisp while linens and modern lines of the furniture spoke of the present. It was a comfortable yet high-class establishment, one in which Angel immediately felt at home. Dawn, he noticed, for all of her newfound maturity, was in awe of the setting, though she hid it well. Glancing at the menu, Angel was impressed with the selections of items ranging from Cornish scallops to poached Dover sole to roasted rabbit. Dawn and Connor, more accustomed to the grab-and-go dinners of university students, were hesitant.
In the midst of general small talk, the waiter approached their table. Placing his order, Angel handed the menu to the waiter, who turned towards Dawn. “You don’t happen to have hamburgers, do you?” Her expression was hopeful but was quickly erased by the waiter’s curt, “No.” Scanning the menu quickly she ordered what sounded the most familiar: sea bass with basil potatoes and tortellini. Angel knew she didn’t recognize half of the ingredients, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her. Connor, in keeping with his apparent life’s mission to drive his father crazy, ordered the most expensive item on the menu.
Once alone again, the three settled into an uncomfortable silence. The air was thick with things unsaid, of long ago memories threatening to resurface. Angel wanted to ask about Buffy, what she was doing now, if she was seeing someone, but he couldn’t open his mouth. He didn’t want to hear if Buffy had moved on, if she had found happiness with someone else. He wanted to keep the memory of their last time together, of her whispered promise of someday. He couldn’t lose that hope, not now. Not when everything was different and finally right. He knew he couldn’t go to Buffy now, he wasn’t ready, but to lose the promise offered so long ago was something he wasn’t willing to do.
“So Dawn, how is. . . everything?” he asked, careful to start the conversation with a less emotionally explosive question.
Dawn eyed him, and Angel felt as if she was looking straight through him. She had her sister’s unwavering gaze and also her ability to seem to know exactly what he was thinking. It had always unnerved him with Buffy, and now with Dawn, it was no less uncomfortable. He shifted restlessly in his chair, his eyes trained on the linen tablecloth as he felt her gaze remain on his face. It was an unsettling reminder of the times Buffy had done the very same. The silence was quickly moving from merely uncomfortable to awkward and uneasy the longer she didn’t answer.
“Buffy’s fine, Angel.” When his eyes flew to her, the shock of her statement apparent in his open mouth, she laughed and covered his hand resting on the table with her own. “I know you, Angel, and I know that while you are interested in what’s happening in my life, who you really want to know about is Buffy. I have one question for you.” She paused and stared at him for long moments, her hand tightening slightly over his.
“Why haven’t you told Buffy you’re human?”
*****
to be continued. . .
Author: Lee
Pairing: Buffy/Angel (eventually), Dawn/Connor
Rating: Adult, overall. This chapter, PG.
Summary: The first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: decide what you want. -Ben Stein
Notes: Title taken from Socrates in Plato's Apology. Huge thanks to marenfic and cornerofmadness for their beta duties. This is written for the B/A CYA ficathon run by leni_ba. Italicized dialogue in the beginning is taken from the episode "Chosen", written by Joss Whedon.
”I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m going to turn out to be. I make it through this and the next thing and the next thing and maybe one day I turn around and realize I’m ready. I’m cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat me . . . or enjoy warm, delicious cookie-me, then that’s fine. That’ll be then. When I’m done.”
Angel stared at Buffy, thinking over what she just said. It certainly wasn’t the direction he expected the conversation to take, but Buffy had always surprised him, even from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. “Any thoughts on who might enjoy. . . do I have to go with the cookie analogy?”
Buffy shook her head. “I’m not really thinking that far ahead. That’s kinda the point.”
After promising to get the second front ready, he turned and walked away, his mind telling him to get back to L.A. as quickly as possible because of Connor, his soul screaming at him to stay with Buffy. For as much as Connor hated him, Angel couldn’t, wouldn’t give up on his son. Before he could disappear into the shadows, Buffy’s voice stopped him yet again.
“Angel. I do sometimes think that far ahead.”
“Sometimes is something,” he said calmly, his dead heart nearly beating with long-forgotten joy.
“It’ll be a long time coming. Years, if ever.” Her voice was firm, resolute, with just a tiny a bit of hope. Hope that Angel clung to desperately.
Grinning ruefully, he told her, “I ain’t getting any older,” before fading away into the night.
Angel shook his head as the plane began its descent. While thoughts of Buffy had been his frequent companion over the years, particularly the first few years after he left Sunnydale, they’d made rare appearances the last several years, when his life had become more and more complicated. When it got be too much, when thoughts of Connor and Cordelia, hell goddesses, evil law firms and dead friends threatened to overwhelm, he often longed for the relative simplicity of his early years in Sunnydale. Although his relationship with Buffy had never been simple, it’d been. . . easy, in its own way: help the Slayer and her friends, love the Slayer. Then he lost his soul and what had once been so simple, suddenly became torturous.
He had moved to Los Angeles to escape and, he could now admit to himself, to forget what he once had. Every night when he stared into the dark sky, thinking of Buffy and her golden hair, or her eyes the color of moss, or any of the multitudes of reasons why he loved her, he knew that forgetting her was something he would never do. Couldn’t do. She was as ingrained into his very being as his soul, though he failed to appreciate the irony that his greatest love and desire was also his greatest downfall.
But life had gone on, and he surrounded himself with friends and his work. Thoughts of Buffy, though never truly gone, became less frequent. The birth of his son, and his subsequent kidnapping and reappearance, turned Angel’s life into a roller coaster of vengeance and retribution and sacrifice. All too soon he had found himself at Wolfram & Hart, straight into the belly of the beast he had once sworn to destroy. Too soon he had changed from the vampire saving lost souls and seeking redemption into Mr. Angel, his mission now to appease evil rather than fight it. Thoughts of Buffy, and the life he had once had, became too painful, too much of a reminder of what he had lost, so he deliberately shoved them aside.
Until last week when he finalized his plans to visit Connor, now studying at Oxford. Only in the last few months had his son slowly begun to accept Angel and his place in his life. After surviving the battle with the Senior Partners two years ago, Angel kept his distance from Connor, appearing infrequently and only at his son’s request. He lived for those rare moments, a cup of coffee here, a dinner there. The visits were tense, Connor angry and resentful but not knowing how to express it, Angel willing to accept whatever place he had in Connor’s life. Slowly, Connor began to open up, although the first few months had been extremely difficult as he processed the pain of the memories from his other life. They had seen it through and even though it was still strained at times, they’d settled into a comfortable relationship.
Once he had made plans to visit Connor, thoughts of Buffy had overwhelmed him again. He knew she wasn’t in London, she was still in Rome according to the last email he had received from Willow. Thoughts of London and the work Connor was doing with the reestablished Watchers Council inevitably led him back to Buffy. He found himself once again lost in memories of Buffy and their times together, particularly their most recent meeting. She had said someday, and once his life becamehis again, he clutched to that hope desperately.
Now he was in London, Rome only a stone’s throw away, and he was terrified.
***
Angel stepped off the escalator at baggage claim and looked for Connor. His son had promised to pick him up at the airport, but Angel was afraid he had been stood up. Bending down to grab his bag from the carousel, he sighed. He wasn’t surprised Connor hadn’t picked him up, but he had been hoping the visit would have begun on a brighter note.
“Dad!”
He looked up, surprised not only to hear Connor’s voice, but also to hear his son call him dad. It had been an infrequent occurrence even as their relationship had deepened, and each time he heard it, Angel felt a rush of joy he had all too rarely experienced. It was much like the happiness he had felt when Buf-
“Sorry I’m late, but my girlfriend was running behind,” Connor explained breathlessly as he ran up to Angel, his wide grin more for the mention of his girlfriend.
Angel nodded and moved to hug Connor, hesitant and unsure that his son would accept such open affection. He was surprised when Connor welcomed the hug.
“Blaming the girlfriend, huh? Probably not the wisest course of action,” Angel teased. The main reason for this visit with Connor was to meet his new girlfriend. He had been dating her for almost eight months, and Angel knew that for Connor to want his father to meet her, it was a serious relationship. “Where is the bonnie lass who has stolen my son’s affections?”
“She’s waiting at the car.” Connor grabbed Angel’s bag and steered his father toward the arrivals lane. “C’mon, I can only park at the front for about ten minutes, and I used eight of those trying to find you.” Once upon a time, the words would have been filled with harsh rebuke, but now it was said with affection and teasing. Angel’s heart warmed to hear the easy, carefree tone, when for so long his conversations with Connor had been marked with painful, angry words.
“How are your studies? What about the work with the Watchers Council? It’s not too much, is it? Juggling work and school?” Angel couldn’t stop the rush of questions that poured out of him. He wanted to take advantage of Connor’s good mood and the easy camaraderie between them. Conversations could easily turn into a battlefield, and though Angel feared his prodding could easily ruin the good start of his visit, he couldn’t help himself.
Connor pursed his lips before replying, a scowl threatening to break free, and Angel knew he had done the wrong thing. Before he could apologize, Connor’s face cleared and he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in a way eerily reminiscent of the way Darla’s eyes gleamed after a kill. Angel closed his eyes briefly, willing away thoughts of his past with Darla, before turning back to his son.
“Classes are fine. I don’t know if I’ll take any summer studies. It’d be nice to only concentrate on one thing, you know?” Soon after his arrival in London, Connor’s true nature had once again surfaced and he began to hunt vampires. He heard about Buffy from his father, and while he met Faith once before, he never truly experienced firsthand the power of a Slayer. Until he stumbled across one in a dark alley two months after his arrival. Wary of the young girl and her Watcher, he ran back to his flat. His life was confusing enough as it was, he didn’t need to add Slayers and Watchers and rules and regulations to it. That didn’t stop the Council from finding him and asking him to join them in fighting the evil forces. He refused at first, but after speaking with his father about it, he called Rupert Giles, head of the Council, and accepted. Neither a Slayer nor a Watcher, Connor fought on his own terms, but also helped the Council with research, specifically translations of ancient texts.
That was how he met his girlfriend, who was in the “junior Watcher training program,” as she joked the first time he meet her. They quickly connected, and for the first time, Connor felt he had found someone who truly understood him, both sides of him. His girlfriend had grown up with the supernatural, and even heard stories of Connor, the human son of two vampires. He didn’t have to hide who he was, or what he had been. Realizing how special this girl was, and that what he felt went far beyond mere lust, he invited his father to London to meet her and to show Angel his new life.
Angel could tell Connor was nervous about introducing him to his girlfriend. Connor had given him scant information about his relationship, but even through the transatlantic calls, Angel could hear the love and pride in Connor’s voice. He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and said, “Son, I have no doubt I will like her. I promise to be on my best behavior.” He added the final with a smile, his voice light.
Finally reaching Connor’s car, Angel grimaced when he saw the small vehicle. His legs started to ache at the sight of the tight, cramped quarters. The pain, and every thought in his head, vanished when Connor’s girlfriend stepped from the car and Angel got his first look at the woman who had come to mean so much to his son. The long brown hair, the bright blue eyes, the long and once gangly now graceful limbs. . .
Dawn Summers.
And the terror he felt at being so close to Buffy for the first time in years increased tenfold.
***
“Hi Angel,” Dawn said, her blinding smile reminding him of Buffy’s. Buffy. . . oh god, was Buffy here in London? Had she moved to be closer to Dawn? Was he going to-
“Dad? You alright?” The concern in Connor’s voice snapped Angel back to attention, but when he glanced over at his son, Connor’s wide grin told him that he had known exactly who Dawn was and, more importantly, whose sister she was. He was going kill his son.
“H-hi, Dawn. What. . . I mean. . . it’s good to see you,” he finished lamely, before Dawn threw herself into his arms. She hugged him tightly and he couldn’t stop the gentle kiss he pressed to her hair. This was the girl who had chased him around the Summers living room as he waited for her older sister, the girl who threatened to stake him when he broke up with Buffy. . . he knew the memories were false, implanted by the monks, but they were precious memories nonetheless. They weren’t any less real to Angel, and now the little girl was before him, a young, vibrant woman in her place.
Angel cleared his throat and stepped back from Dawn. His thoughts were a chaotic jumble; fear over seeing Buffy again, joy at the sight of the beautiful woman Dawn had become, exasperation at his son for concealing the identity of his girlfriend, anger at himself for allowing his emotions to completely overwhelm him . . . . The easy, comfortable visit with Connor and his girlfriend that Angel wanted had taken an unexpected turn and Angel didn’t know what to do next. Coming to London to see Connor had definitely brought back thoughts of Buffy, but Angel had assumed they would remain exactly that: thoughts. Now with his love’s sister standing in front of him, the possibility that he might see Buffy again was terrifyingly real.
A loud honk from a car behind them broke Angel’s trance. “We should probably go. Didn’t you say this was short-term parking, Connor?”
“Yeah, we should go. Hop in the back, Angel. Or as much as you can,” Connor replied, an evil glint in his eyes teasing his father.
“Did you have to buy the smallest car imaginable?” Angel grumbled as he attempted to arrange himself in the back so that his knees were not up by his ears. He was unsuccessful. Dawn giggled at his predicament and the sound was an echo from times past. An image flashed before his eyes of a young Slayer not yet called, laughing as the bright sun washed over her, innocence surrounding her like a golden halo. He groaned softly as the image was quickly replaced with one from the day that wasn’t. Buffy’s soft giggle as he carried her from the ruined kitchen table to the bedroom echoed in his mind. He had only been here a few minutes and already everything was reminding him of Buffy. He’d go crazy before the visit was over if this kept up.
He caught Connor’s gaze in the rearview mirror and scowled at his only son. His glare, which had once terrified Europe, was apparently as effective on Connor as it had been with Cordelia. His threats, his warnings, she had all but ignored them, particularly when it came to shopping with his money. She’d been headstrong and determined, stubborn and willful, and he missed her every single day. He and Connor had only discussed Cordelia a time or two, both still overwhelmed by her absence in their lives, Angel with the pain of losing his best friend, Connor with losing one of the few people who had ever mattered to him.
But now was not the time to think of Cordelia. It was time to visit with his son, catch up with Dawn, and try to escape his memories of Buffy.
****
After suggesting that they stop for a bite to eat, Angel was pleasantly surprised when Connor mentioned that he had made reservations for the three of them at The Restaurant on Bond Street. He wasn’t surprised, however, when Connor informed him that Angel would be paying because, as a poor university student, Connor just didn’t have the money. Considering he deposited money each month into Connor’s bank account, Angel knew he was weaseling his way out of paying. After all, wasn’t that the son’s job?
Angel was pleased with Connor’s selection. The dark wood paneling and fireplace echoed the pubs and taverns of his past, but the crisp while linens and modern lines of the furniture spoke of the present. It was a comfortable yet high-class establishment, one in which Angel immediately felt at home. Dawn, he noticed, for all of her newfound maturity, was in awe of the setting, though she hid it well. Glancing at the menu, Angel was impressed with the selections of items ranging from Cornish scallops to poached Dover sole to roasted rabbit. Dawn and Connor, more accustomed to the grab-and-go dinners of university students, were hesitant.
In the midst of general small talk, the waiter approached their table. Placing his order, Angel handed the menu to the waiter, who turned towards Dawn. “You don’t happen to have hamburgers, do you?” Her expression was hopeful but was quickly erased by the waiter’s curt, “No.” Scanning the menu quickly she ordered what sounded the most familiar: sea bass with basil potatoes and tortellini. Angel knew she didn’t recognize half of the ingredients, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her. Connor, in keeping with his apparent life’s mission to drive his father crazy, ordered the most expensive item on the menu.
Once alone again, the three settled into an uncomfortable silence. The air was thick with things unsaid, of long ago memories threatening to resurface. Angel wanted to ask about Buffy, what she was doing now, if she was seeing someone, but he couldn’t open his mouth. He didn’t want to hear if Buffy had moved on, if she had found happiness with someone else. He wanted to keep the memory of their last time together, of her whispered promise of someday. He couldn’t lose that hope, not now. Not when everything was different and finally right. He knew he couldn’t go to Buffy now, he wasn’t ready, but to lose the promise offered so long ago was something he wasn’t willing to do.
“So Dawn, how is. . . everything?” he asked, careful to start the conversation with a less emotionally explosive question.
Dawn eyed him, and Angel felt as if she was looking straight through him. She had her sister’s unwavering gaze and also her ability to seem to know exactly what he was thinking. It had always unnerved him with Buffy, and now with Dawn, it was no less uncomfortable. He shifted restlessly in his chair, his eyes trained on the linen tablecloth as he felt her gaze remain on his face. It was an unsettling reminder of the times Buffy had done the very same. The silence was quickly moving from merely uncomfortable to awkward and uneasy the longer she didn’t answer.
“Buffy’s fine, Angel.” When his eyes flew to her, the shock of her statement apparent in his open mouth, she laughed and covered his hand resting on the table with her own. “I know you, Angel, and I know that while you are interested in what’s happening in my life, who you really want to know about is Buffy. I have one question for you.” She paused and stared at him for long moments, her hand tightening slightly over his.
“Why haven’t you told Buffy you’re human?”
*****
to be continued. . .