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Oct. 29th, 2005 04:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elgreyAll parts linked to from Story Notes
Temps Perdu, Part Thirteen
Connor felt the unease growing as he walked towards the hotel. Lorne had said to him ‘I know what I’m asking’ but he didn’t think he did. And he wasn’t at all sure that what Connor had to tell them was going to help them out either. Or that Angel would listen to what he had to say. Lorne had said he didn’t want to tell him anything about the current situation so Angel couldn’t accuse him of trying to influence him. He just wanted Connor to come to the hotel and join in the discussion.
“I know you have another family of your own now, pumpkin, and we’re all nothing other than happy about that, but you used to be a part of this family, too, and you’re one of the few people in this world whose opinion might carry some weight with your… with Angel.”
It was difficult to describe how it felt to be Connor Reilly post the smashing of the Orlon Window. Mostly, he felt unchanged. He might intellectually know that his memories were a lie, but he felt it was almost irrelevant. Twice now he had been on the inside of a shared lie and both times he had preferred that false reality to the true one.
He remembered being the other Connor, the only one these people really knew, but when he had those memories now, saw those scenes, it didn’t feel like him, but some person he’d watched. He pitied that Connor. He was such a screwed up angry kid; desperately trying to find his place and purpose in the world and failing every time. Connor knew his place in the world. He knew how it felt to be surrounded from birth by people who loved him; to know absolutely the difference between right and wrong and to know that one was on the side of right, had never strayed, been barely tempted by wrong. Now, when he remembered the other Connor, he knew that there was a road he could have taken that led to being an accessory to murder, to mass brainwashing; that need to have a family twisted into something dark and corrupting. In that he could see there was a parallel between himself and Angel and he pitied the vampire who was his birth father for it, because he remembered how that felt, to want to keep your family, or at least a family, at all costs, to be prepared to do almost anything to keep it intact, and the murderous rage you felt towards those who fragmented it. He had hated them all so much for ruining what Jasmine had almost achieved.
There were so many things that made him flinch; things that if they truly felt like reality he was not sure he would have been able to bear; but the fact was they felt like dreams. Weeping over Holtz. Sealing Angel into that coffin. Being tazered by Fred. Sleeping with Cordelia. Killing Jasmine. His fear that he was connected to the Beast. His astonishing lack of empathy. He could remember that so clearly, feeling so disconnected from the rest of the human race, not understanding how they functioned. He looked at himself as he had been then and saw a clinical case, a person in pain that now he would want to try to find a way to help; someone so callous and confused and angry and naïve all at once. And just wanting all the time to find a family and a cause and a way that he could settle into doing good. The others had felt so distant to him; their problems and their pain irrelevant, because they were all grown ups who ought to be doing better and instead they kept screwing up and screwing up and screwing up, and they didn’t have the right to be that useless when the world needed them to just function properly, to make good decisions.
He winced. It had crystallized in the end into an acceptance that he would have had a family if he’d only been able to stay with Angel, the way he was meant to, in the first place. He wondered if Wesley had realized that was why he’d wanted to hurt him so badly. Feeling the man’s hand touching his cheek with such sorrow and compassion for him, welcoming him into the fold of the dispossessed; another poisoned chalice he’d wanted Connor to drink from because the stupid Watcher still couldn’t accept a happy lie. Twice Wesley had ruined his life because he had to cling onto reality at all costs. So what if a prophecy said Angel was going to kill him, they’d all been happy, hadn’t they? Why not just wait and see if it happened and until then forget about it; enjoy the moment instead of always agonizing over what was going to happen next. He would have been brought up among a family who loved him; with the father who had cared for him so unconditionally that in the end he’d given him up. Connor remembered throwing Wesley into that wall, backhanding him and wanting to just go on hitting him, pounding him through the floor for what he’d done to him. He’d felt it then, already, the stirrings of doubt they’d released; feeling time running out; knowing they were going to find a way to spoil it all somehow, because they couldn’t let the world be saved by any method but their own. And at the same time yearning for that lost might have been; the life he should have had being raised by Angel that Wesley had also stolen from him.
Connor looked up and realized the evening was much darker than when he’d stepped off the bus. He’d used to prowl these streets in darkness with a stake in his hand; wanting to save life and take it at the same time.
Connor sighed. “Sheesh, I was a screwed up kid.” It felt so long ago and so emphatically something that had happened to someone else.
As he said it, he looked across the street and saw the man he’d just been thinking of; the man who had, through good intentions, poor judgement, and a too-determined need to cling onto the truth, wrecked Connor’s first chance of a happy life. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.
The last time he’d seen Wesley it had been at Cyrus Vail’s place. Connor had stumbled out of that encounter with Sahjahn to find Wesley looking pretty much how he felt; only worse. Wesley had still been on the floor, flinching like someone who’d just been hit by a lightning bolt. He’d looked up and given Connor a look of abject apology and Connor had realized that it must have been something that Wesley had done to set off that landmine in his mind, all those memories Angel had paid so much to seal off from him. Memories which had saved his life and could have destroyed it in the same instant. Seeing the way Wesley was shuddering he’d realized that his weren’t the only memories that had been altered and whatever Wesley had done to him he’d just done something equally destructive to himself. The old Connor would no doubt have said that was the story of Wesley’s life – misguided interference that always ended up wrecking both of their lives. This Connor could acknowledge that even if he, Connor, was still the centre of his own life, that didn’t make him the magnetic core of anyone else’s existence. Except possibly Angel’s. Gunn and Fred had told him the story of what Angel had done to Wesley for his part in kidnapping him. They’d been trying to reassure him that the father they thought he was helping them to look for was really worthy of his love. So worthy that he’d tried to kill a trusted friend who had risked his own life and nearly lost it saving a baby from a vampire. Not that he’d cared about Wesley at all; or what it must have been like for him lying in that hospital bed unable to move or cry out while a friend pressed a pillow over his face. That hadn’t been relevant or important; all that mattered was that there was more proof that Angel was evil, a danger to humans, and deserved to rot under the sea.
Connor automatically crossed the road, wondering why Wesley was going up that alley when it had always been dangerous, especially after the sun went down. Did the man have a plan or just a death wish? Frowning, Connor increased his pace.
Wesley was wearing jeans and a sweater, carrying that shoulder bag of his, looking the same but not moving the same way; not moving like someone should in a place where they were offering themselves as a vampire happy meal. Perhaps it was a ploy; perhaps Angel, Gunn and … no, there was no Fred any more; there was just Illyria, that strange, hot, demon in leather who had made Connor’s teenage hormones stir instinctively. She was nothing like as hot when he thought of Fred being dead because of her. Poor Fred. She had just wanted them to be one big happy family too. Had felt so betrayed by that other Connor’s deception. So strange that with so many people who had wanted nothing more than to be part of a family unit and do good that they had so consistently ended up hurting one another, ripping the family apart, and doing bad.
Connor kept following Wesley from a safe distance, not wanting to interfere with a trap if Wesley was meant to be the bait, but also just wanting to be sure that the man wasn’t truly as clueless as he appeared. Wesley was gazing up at the walls of the alley as if he’d never seen the place before. He stopped and turned a circle slowly, looking as if he was lost. Not the best bait in the world if the vampires were locals as they would probably know who Wesley was; but then vampires tended to have their own battles. Perhaps previous nests had been driven out and there were new ones in town. Wesley turned another slow circle, still looking up at the walls as if he was hoping he would recognize something in a minute.
Connor advanced slowly, frowning. Was Wesley acting or not? Because there was a vampire creeping along the top of that alley wall right now, and probably at least one other in the vicinity, and if Gunn and Angel were around they were hiding themselves too well for even Connor’s senses to pick them up. He really didn’t want to ruin some carefully laid plain of Angel’s but on the other hand, what if Wesley…?
As he was thinking it, the vampire dropped like a rock onto Wesley, who if he was acting surprise at being grabbed and hurled into the wall should give up the day job at once and move straight to Hollywood as he would be a shoe-in for an Oscar. Plan or no plan, Connor was already running. Wesley had crumpled down the wall and was now sitting on the ground, dazed and bleeding, and as the vampire lunged at him, only put up an arm ineffectually to ward it off. Connor grabbed it by the back of the jacket and hauled it away from the human and flung it into the opposite wall of the alley, before turning back to shout, “Wesley!”
He was hoping for some kind of explanation but the man only looked up at him in shock, with not a glimmer of recognition, then pointed urgently behind Connor. Connor spun around and ducked at the same instant and the lead pipe swung over his head. He kicked the second vampire hard in the midriff and looked over his shoulder, still hoping for some kind of guidance from Wesley; but he was only trying to stagger to his feet, blood running down his head.
Blood trickling from where Connor had thrown him into that wall, that look of shocked betrayal on Wesley’s face because Connor had taken such obvious pleasure in hurting him. The feel of the knife slashing his chest. Wesley’s hand on his face. The sorrow and love in his eyes...
“Look out!” Wesley pointed blearily behind him and Connor snapped back out of it, ducking and spinning again; taking a blow to the chin that sent him reeling backwards; Wesley automatically grabbing him by the shoulders.
“Are you all right?”
Connor looked over his shoulder. “Do you have a stake?”
Wesley blinked at him in confusion and then said, “Oh yes, wait…” He began to rummage in the bag he was carrying. Connor grabbed him quickly and pulled him out of the reach of the vampire with the lead pipe. “Duck!” he hissed at him. Wesley did so, but dropped the bag in the process. Connor wondered just how bad that blow to his head had been.
“I’ll get it…” Wesley sank down, scrabbling in the bag, while Connor spun and kicked out at the second vampire, before punching the first hard on the jaw to try to hold him off. It felt instinctive, like old dance steps he’d used to practice until they became second nature. He took a blow on the jaw that knocked him into the opposite wall of the alley, elbowing himself off the stones desperately as the other vampire swooped on Wesley again, body checking it hard away from the man on the ground.
“The stake!” he shouted over his shoulder to Wesley as he slammed the vampire hard into the wall and kneed it in the groin. Cordelia had taught him that move. He remembered her teaching it to him. The vampire doubled up and Connor hastily ducked the lead pipe once again, before grabbing Wesley by the shoulder and hauling him up and out of the reach of the follow up swing.
Wesley almost fumbled the stake again and then shoved it into Connor’s hands.
“Thank you,” said Connor breathlessly, before shoving him hastily out of the way and spinning around. He ducked the lead pipe and jabbed the stake in low and hard, under the ribcage and up. Then he was spitting out a mouthful of dust and spinning around again to position himself between Wesley and the second vampire, which was advancing on him with a murderous look in his eyes. Connor jerked his head out of the way of a punch, kicked out hard, and as the vampire stumbled pounced on it, driving the stake into its chest. There was a horrible moment when it felt like real flesh, real bone; he even heard its breastbone crack, and then the point found the heart and there was the proof that this really was an undead thing he had killed. He stumbled backwards, waving the dust away and turned to Wesley in mild exasperation.
“Wesley, what were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Wesley had a hand clasped to his bleeding forehead and was looked at him warily. “I – got lost.”
“How can you be lost?” Connor demanded. “You’re a block from the Hyperion.”
Wesley looked at the blood on his fingers. “My head hurts.” He sounded very young and a little plaintive.
Despite being half his age, Connor felt all his elder brother instincts kick in. “Are you going to pass out?”
“No.” Wesley gave him another wary look from under his eyelashes.
Connor sighed and took him by the elbow. “Let’s get you home. You do know Angel is going to be mad about you laying traps for vampires with no back up, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t. I just got turned around. I was trying to find the shop. Xander and Spike are always going to the shop. I wanted a bar of chocolate.”
Connor looked at his face to see if he was joking. “It’s the other way, Wesley. Up there.” As Wesley continued to look at him as if he’d never seen him before in his life, Connor frowned. “I thought you got your memories back. Don’t you know who I am? My parents came to see you at Wolfram & Hart, remember? I’m Connor.”
“Connor.” Wesley stared at him in horror. So this is how it feels to be the family skeleton in the closet, Connor thought wryly. Wesley wasn’t actually making the sign of the cross but Connor might as well have been monkey’s paw boy back from the grave given the way Wesley was gazing at him.
“It’s not that bad, you know. I don’t eat people. Despite being the biological son of two people who sort of…did.”
Wesley put a hand up to his head, swaying so much he looked as if he was going to faint, and Connor quickly grabbed his elbow again. “Easy, Wesley.” He looped Wesley’s arm around his shoulders, uncomfortably reminded as he did so of Wesley bringing Angel back to the Hyperion.
“But I… You’re the baby I stole… I’m so sorry for what I…”
Connor hushed him quickly. “We shouldn’t talk about this. Not without Angel – he doesn’t like me to…. You know how he is. He likes to keep it separate. Likes me to keep it separate.” Likes to keep me separate from the rest of you so much he stole your memories to make that happen.
“I’m so sorry.” Wesley gave him a look of such wretched and guilt-stricken remorse that Connor stopped in his tracks.
“Look, I’m not into blaming anyone, okay? I like my life. I love my parents. I love my sisters. I’m grateful for what Angel did. It’s not like I don’t have my share of things to apologize for. Like hitting you so hard that time. Are we cool about that by the way?”
Wesley dropped his gaze. “I don’t – I don’t remember it.”
Connor frowned in confusion. “But you were right there when the Orlon window – I thought you got them back too? You mean, you didn’t recognize me? You didn’t know who I was?”
Wesley shook his head.
“But you met me at Wolfram & Hart.”
“I don’t remember that either.”
Connor steadied him against the wall. “Maybe I should take you straight to a hospital.”
“No, it’s… I didn’t remember before. There was a spell. There was a bomb inside me and Willow did a spell and I…I don’t remember the past five years. I don’t think I want to.” He darted Connor another look as if looking for guidance and Connor automatically tightened his grip.
He’d never really understood in his old incarnation why Angel acted so protective of these screwed up grown ups he’d collected around him. He’d tried to think of them as family, just because they were the only approximation he had, but once they’d decided to oppose Cordelia and threaten their baby they’d become enemies, only to become allies again once Jasmine had welcomed them into the fold, only for them to make themselves his enemies once again when they’d turned against her. He sighed, looking at Wesley’s pale unshaven face, getting it at last, how these people had been the kids Angel had before his real kid had come along and brought him so much joy and happiness, of course. Yeah right. Some memories were always going to suck. Wesley might be a grown up from Connor’s perspective, but without the shotgun and the designer shirts, he looked kind of skinny and vulnerable, not to mention in serious need of a babysitter before he was let out where the vampires lived again because his self defence skills seemed to have dropped about five thousand points. Connor took a handkerchief from his pocket, put it in the man’s hand and then gently clamped the hand over the head wound.
“Still playing with the magic then?” He gave him an encouraging smile to show it was a joke, but Wesley just looked wary and bewildered.
Connor sighed. Tough audience. “Let’s get you back to the Hyperion so Angel can yell at you and…” He’d been going to say ‘And Fred or Cordy can patch you up’ but, of course, there was no Fred or Cordy any more. He flinched inside when he thought of Cordy. He tightened his grip on Wesley’s elbow and said gently, “Well, I’m hoping to be a doctor, so I guess this will be a good chance for me to practise. I’ve got to tell you, Wesley, the intern part of me is really hoping you need stitches because I’m not so good at those yet.”
This time Wesley seemed to get it was a joke because he managed something that was almost a smile. “How – comforting.”
Connor smiled in relief that Wesley was looking slightly less jumpy and guilt-ridden. “They told you all about stealing me but they didn’t bother to tell you where the local store was, eh?” he observed conversationally. “Those people always had the oddest priorities.”
Wesley darted him another look and Connor tightened the grip on him gently. “Humour – it’s something we humans have. You should try it.”
And Wesley was looking a little less deer in headlights now, which was something. “Well, you know, I am English.”
“Hey, no one’s judging you. Son of two vampires – son of two English people. Everyone has their problems.”
And that was an honest to goodness smile. “I thought you’d be…”
“Weirder?” Connor enquired.
“More damaged.”
Connor looked at Wesley and felt a twist of compassion for him so strong it actually hurt. “It’s a decision we make, Wesley. To be damaged or not. Last time I chose wrong. I got the opportunity to choose right.”
“What if life damages you beyond repair?”
Connor thought of how it had been to be him, crazy with loss, the world a ruined place again, no hope for anyone or anything, because people didn’t know what they had, didn’t protect who they loved, didn’t keep their families safe, didn’t know how lucky they were to have them in the first place.
“You don’t let it.” He tightened his grip as Wesley swayed again. “You keep believing there will be something better and you don’t give into despair.” And then they were outside the Hyperion. He couldn’t help flinching a little inside as he looked at it. All the harm that had been done in here. All the anger and arguments and loss and pain. Lilah had died in here and Connor hadn’t cared that a woman who had been living and breathing a few minutes before had been lying there dead, bleeding from the neck his monster of a father had drunk from; he’d just wondered why it was taking Wesley so damned long to dismember her corpse. He winced as he realized that Wesley didn’t know about that any more. Only as something people had told him, presuming they had told him about it. He didn’t remember it, or her, presumably. He gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Angel’s going to ground you for a month, you know that, right? And if Gunn’s in there, there’s going to be yelling. He was always yelling.”
Wesley looked nervously at the doors. “They haven’t… So far there hasn’t been… They yell?”
“Oh boy, yeah. Loudly. You want to think of that before you go wandering off into dark alleyways by yourself.” Connor opened the doors, calling out, “Anyone here?”
There had been noise coming from the office, but at the sound of his voice there was an abrupt silence, followed by the door opening and people spilling out. Angel had that expression that always made Connor hurt inside; all that anxiety and concern and terror and love in equal parts. Afraid that something had happened that was going to hurt Connor some more; all that longing for the son he had lost. Connor gritted his teeth, forced a smile onto his face and helped Wesley down the stairs.
“I found Wesley outside,” he explained. “He didn’t know who I was. Vampires were trying to eat him.”
“Are you…?” Angel advanced towards Connor, still gazing at him as if he thought he might shatter into a million pieces, and then noticed who was with him. “Wesley? What? Vampires were what…?”
“English, what the hell were you thinking?” Gunn demanded.
Connor looked at Wesley. “Told you.”
“Connor, why are you here?” Angel frowned in bewilderment. “And, Wesley, why were you outside?”
“He was trying to find the store.” Connor helped Wesley over to the banquette and made him sit down, adding over his shoulder: “You guys told him about me and you didn’t tell him where he could buy a Snickers bar? Don’t you think that’s kind of mean?”
Angel crouched down by them. “Wes, are you…? How badly are you…?”
“I’m hoping he needs stitches,” Connor told the vampire cheerfully. “But so far it’s not looking too hopeful. I’ve got a horrible feeling some hydrogen peroxide will probably be enough.”
Wesley looked up at Connor. “I forgot to thank you.”
“That’s okay. Your horrified expression when I told you my name was thanks enough.” Connor rolled his eyes. “That was another joke. Did everyone lose his sense of humour while I’ve been gone?”
Wesley gave Angel an apologetic look. “I got lost. Connor saved me.”
“You did?” Angel beamed at Connor so proudly that Connor felt that familiar twinge of compassion for him. His birth father really was a dork sometimes.
Connor shrugged. “Hey, Wesley provided the stake. Can I play doctor now?”
“So, this is the chip off the old block, is it?” Connor turned to see the vampire Angel had introduced to him as ‘Spike’ looking at him warily. “Last time we met old broodypants didn’t tell me you were family.”
“It’s good no one’s treading on your head any more,” Connor told him cheerfully. “And I didn’t know I was family back then. Or the source of all woe and misery in the Angel Investigations world.” As they all winced, he sighed. “No one gets my sense of humour. Damp cloth anyone? I don’t get bleeding people to practice on that often.”
“You should move back in.” Spike shrugged. “We’ve always got them around here.” Angel looked at the other vampire in horror and Spike backed up with his hands in the air. “Just trying to lighten the doom-laden atmosphere. Excuse me for not breathing.”
Connor looked up to find the green-skinned demon putting a damp cloth in his hands. He realized he should have checked with him first whether he wanted Angel to know the real reason why he was here. He gave him an enquiring look, at the same time juggling those strange double memories he got when he looked at these people. “Thanks, Lorne.”
“I asked Connor to come here.” Lorne faced Angel defiantly.
The vampire was torn between looking at Wesley’s wound, gazing at Connor as if he thought he might evaporate, and taking in what Lorne had just said. “You… what…? Why?”
Lorne had evidently expected anger but the confused accusation in Angel’s eyes seemed to upset him more. He sighed, “Angelcakes…”
“Hey,” Connor looked up. “Can I deal with my patient first?”
As they all took a step back a respectful distance, he peered intently at the cut on Wesley’s head, sighing as his worst suspicions were confirmed.
“What is it?” Angel demanded anxiously. “Is his skull fractured?” Gunn was already reaching for the phone, presumably to call an ambulance. Connor smiled inside, because dysfunctional though these people would probably always be they seemed to have remembered the importance of acting like a family. He blinked in confusion as more people stepped out of the office, including two incredibly pretty girls, one blonde, the other redheaded. Oh, another memory. He knew the redhead. Not the blonde though. She was really pretty. He gazed up at Angel fondly, the vampire darting worried looks at Wesley who was looking up at Angel with an expression on his face of undisguised apology. If Wesley had walked into the Hyperion with that look on his face a year ago, Connor suspected that Angel and Gunn would have forgiven him on the spot. There was definitely something to be said for new beginnings.
Connor finished dabbing at Wesley’s head and sat back. “Just my luck. Doesn’t even need stitches and no concussion either. That’s disappointing.” He squeezed Wesley’s shoulder gently. “Not that I’m blaming you. You gave getting yourself seriously injured your best shot.” He looked up at Gunn. “You are going to yell at him now, right? Because I promised him yelling.”
Gunn smiled at Connor, relief obvious on his face. “Damned straight.”
“I think you should ground him.” Connor looked at Angel. “Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.” He glanced across at the two pretty girls again. “Is anyone going to…introduce me?”
Gunn looked at the blonde girl and then back at Angel. “Um…well… Connor? When you got that…make over, they fixed you having the thing for Angel’s old flames, right?”
“Not to mention the Slayer thing?” Lorne added.
As everyone looked at him, Connor glanced back at the blonde girl and felt the familiar stirrings of interest. He gave Angel a rueful smile. “I guess some things are constants in any reality.”
“Willow’s not a Slayer or Angel’s old flame,” Gunn nodded to the redhead.
“I remember her.” Connor put his head on one side. “You’re a witch.”
“Yes.” She looked around the assembled people with a warning expression. “And a lesbian. Who therefore doesn’t date college boys, even to stop Buffy doing it.”
“Cool,” he told her cheerfully, before turning back to Buffy like a compass drawn to magnetic north. “And you’re a Slayer? Like Faith?”
“Buffy is Angel and Spike’s old flame,” Lorne said pointedly.
“She’s really pretty,” Connor observed.
Gunn sighed. “I guess some things really do never change.”
Buffy continued to gaze at Connor awkwardly. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Connor assured her, still gazing.
Angel gazed at him in disbelief. “Connor…”
He grinned up at him. “Just reminding you it wasn’t all good times. But, don’t worry. I’m not here to mangle anyone’s psyche, just to help out with whatever problem it is Lorne thought I could help out with. And practice a little doctoring on Wesley here.” He wiped the last of the blood from Wesley’s face and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re good to be yelled at any time Gunn wants to make a start on that.”
“Perhaps Wesley could have a cup of tea first?” A handsome older man, bespectacled and formally dressed, moved in dexterously to pluck Wesley out of yelling range. He offered his other hand to Connor. “Rupert Giles, Buffy’s Watcher, a pleasure to meet you, Connor.”
“Connor Reilly.” Connor shook his hand firmly.
Gunn stabbed a finger at Wesley as Giles helped him towards the office. “There will be yelling, English.”
Connor waited until Wesley was safely in the office and out of earshot then looked at Angel enquiringly. “What happened to Wesley?”
“He lost his memory,” Buffy said.
“No, I mean – he used to be good in a fight. Those vampires would have skinned him alive.”
Lorne held out his hands to Connor. “Thank you.”
Connor became aware of everyone looking at Angel accusingly. “Did I…say the wrong thing?”
“No, you said the right thing.” Spike nodded at Angel. “Broody pants here wants to keep Wesley in cotton wool cloud never never land.”
Angel gazed at Connor. “You agree with me, don’t you? That everyone deserves a second chance?”
Connor realized what he had been brought into the middle of and took a deep breath. “I’m thinking a cup of tea sounds like a good idea and maybe I should just call my mom and dad to let them know I’ll be late home. I have a feeling this is going to take a while…”
***
Temps Perdu, Part Thirteen
Connor felt the unease growing as he walked towards the hotel. Lorne had said to him ‘I know what I’m asking’ but he didn’t think he did. And he wasn’t at all sure that what Connor had to tell them was going to help them out either. Or that Angel would listen to what he had to say. Lorne had said he didn’t want to tell him anything about the current situation so Angel couldn’t accuse him of trying to influence him. He just wanted Connor to come to the hotel and join in the discussion.
“I know you have another family of your own now, pumpkin, and we’re all nothing other than happy about that, but you used to be a part of this family, too, and you’re one of the few people in this world whose opinion might carry some weight with your… with Angel.”
It was difficult to describe how it felt to be Connor Reilly post the smashing of the Orlon Window. Mostly, he felt unchanged. He might intellectually know that his memories were a lie, but he felt it was almost irrelevant. Twice now he had been on the inside of a shared lie and both times he had preferred that false reality to the true one.
He remembered being the other Connor, the only one these people really knew, but when he had those memories now, saw those scenes, it didn’t feel like him, but some person he’d watched. He pitied that Connor. He was such a screwed up angry kid; desperately trying to find his place and purpose in the world and failing every time. Connor knew his place in the world. He knew how it felt to be surrounded from birth by people who loved him; to know absolutely the difference between right and wrong and to know that one was on the side of right, had never strayed, been barely tempted by wrong. Now, when he remembered the other Connor, he knew that there was a road he could have taken that led to being an accessory to murder, to mass brainwashing; that need to have a family twisted into something dark and corrupting. In that he could see there was a parallel between himself and Angel and he pitied the vampire who was his birth father for it, because he remembered how that felt, to want to keep your family, or at least a family, at all costs, to be prepared to do almost anything to keep it intact, and the murderous rage you felt towards those who fragmented it. He had hated them all so much for ruining what Jasmine had almost achieved.
There were so many things that made him flinch; things that if they truly felt like reality he was not sure he would have been able to bear; but the fact was they felt like dreams. Weeping over Holtz. Sealing Angel into that coffin. Being tazered by Fred. Sleeping with Cordelia. Killing Jasmine. His fear that he was connected to the Beast. His astonishing lack of empathy. He could remember that so clearly, feeling so disconnected from the rest of the human race, not understanding how they functioned. He looked at himself as he had been then and saw a clinical case, a person in pain that now he would want to try to find a way to help; someone so callous and confused and angry and naïve all at once. And just wanting all the time to find a family and a cause and a way that he could settle into doing good. The others had felt so distant to him; their problems and their pain irrelevant, because they were all grown ups who ought to be doing better and instead they kept screwing up and screwing up and screwing up, and they didn’t have the right to be that useless when the world needed them to just function properly, to make good decisions.
He winced. It had crystallized in the end into an acceptance that he would have had a family if he’d only been able to stay with Angel, the way he was meant to, in the first place. He wondered if Wesley had realized that was why he’d wanted to hurt him so badly. Feeling the man’s hand touching his cheek with such sorrow and compassion for him, welcoming him into the fold of the dispossessed; another poisoned chalice he’d wanted Connor to drink from because the stupid Watcher still couldn’t accept a happy lie. Twice Wesley had ruined his life because he had to cling onto reality at all costs. So what if a prophecy said Angel was going to kill him, they’d all been happy, hadn’t they? Why not just wait and see if it happened and until then forget about it; enjoy the moment instead of always agonizing over what was going to happen next. He would have been brought up among a family who loved him; with the father who had cared for him so unconditionally that in the end he’d given him up. Connor remembered throwing Wesley into that wall, backhanding him and wanting to just go on hitting him, pounding him through the floor for what he’d done to him. He’d felt it then, already, the stirrings of doubt they’d released; feeling time running out; knowing they were going to find a way to spoil it all somehow, because they couldn’t let the world be saved by any method but their own. And at the same time yearning for that lost might have been; the life he should have had being raised by Angel that Wesley had also stolen from him.
Connor looked up and realized the evening was much darker than when he’d stepped off the bus. He’d used to prowl these streets in darkness with a stake in his hand; wanting to save life and take it at the same time.
Connor sighed. “Sheesh, I was a screwed up kid.” It felt so long ago and so emphatically something that had happened to someone else.
As he said it, he looked across the street and saw the man he’d just been thinking of; the man who had, through good intentions, poor judgement, and a too-determined need to cling onto the truth, wrecked Connor’s first chance of a happy life. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.
The last time he’d seen Wesley it had been at Cyrus Vail’s place. Connor had stumbled out of that encounter with Sahjahn to find Wesley looking pretty much how he felt; only worse. Wesley had still been on the floor, flinching like someone who’d just been hit by a lightning bolt. He’d looked up and given Connor a look of abject apology and Connor had realized that it must have been something that Wesley had done to set off that landmine in his mind, all those memories Angel had paid so much to seal off from him. Memories which had saved his life and could have destroyed it in the same instant. Seeing the way Wesley was shuddering he’d realized that his weren’t the only memories that had been altered and whatever Wesley had done to him he’d just done something equally destructive to himself. The old Connor would no doubt have said that was the story of Wesley’s life – misguided interference that always ended up wrecking both of their lives. This Connor could acknowledge that even if he, Connor, was still the centre of his own life, that didn’t make him the magnetic core of anyone else’s existence. Except possibly Angel’s. Gunn and Fred had told him the story of what Angel had done to Wesley for his part in kidnapping him. They’d been trying to reassure him that the father they thought he was helping them to look for was really worthy of his love. So worthy that he’d tried to kill a trusted friend who had risked his own life and nearly lost it saving a baby from a vampire. Not that he’d cared about Wesley at all; or what it must have been like for him lying in that hospital bed unable to move or cry out while a friend pressed a pillow over his face. That hadn’t been relevant or important; all that mattered was that there was more proof that Angel was evil, a danger to humans, and deserved to rot under the sea.
Connor automatically crossed the road, wondering why Wesley was going up that alley when it had always been dangerous, especially after the sun went down. Did the man have a plan or just a death wish? Frowning, Connor increased his pace.
Wesley was wearing jeans and a sweater, carrying that shoulder bag of his, looking the same but not moving the same way; not moving like someone should in a place where they were offering themselves as a vampire happy meal. Perhaps it was a ploy; perhaps Angel, Gunn and … no, there was no Fred any more; there was just Illyria, that strange, hot, demon in leather who had made Connor’s teenage hormones stir instinctively. She was nothing like as hot when he thought of Fred being dead because of her. Poor Fred. She had just wanted them to be one big happy family too. Had felt so betrayed by that other Connor’s deception. So strange that with so many people who had wanted nothing more than to be part of a family unit and do good that they had so consistently ended up hurting one another, ripping the family apart, and doing bad.
Connor kept following Wesley from a safe distance, not wanting to interfere with a trap if Wesley was meant to be the bait, but also just wanting to be sure that the man wasn’t truly as clueless as he appeared. Wesley was gazing up at the walls of the alley as if he’d never seen the place before. He stopped and turned a circle slowly, looking as if he was lost. Not the best bait in the world if the vampires were locals as they would probably know who Wesley was; but then vampires tended to have their own battles. Perhaps previous nests had been driven out and there were new ones in town. Wesley turned another slow circle, still looking up at the walls as if he was hoping he would recognize something in a minute.
Connor advanced slowly, frowning. Was Wesley acting or not? Because there was a vampire creeping along the top of that alley wall right now, and probably at least one other in the vicinity, and if Gunn and Angel were around they were hiding themselves too well for even Connor’s senses to pick them up. He really didn’t want to ruin some carefully laid plain of Angel’s but on the other hand, what if Wesley…?
As he was thinking it, the vampire dropped like a rock onto Wesley, who if he was acting surprise at being grabbed and hurled into the wall should give up the day job at once and move straight to Hollywood as he would be a shoe-in for an Oscar. Plan or no plan, Connor was already running. Wesley had crumpled down the wall and was now sitting on the ground, dazed and bleeding, and as the vampire lunged at him, only put up an arm ineffectually to ward it off. Connor grabbed it by the back of the jacket and hauled it away from the human and flung it into the opposite wall of the alley, before turning back to shout, “Wesley!”
He was hoping for some kind of explanation but the man only looked up at him in shock, with not a glimmer of recognition, then pointed urgently behind Connor. Connor spun around and ducked at the same instant and the lead pipe swung over his head. He kicked the second vampire hard in the midriff and looked over his shoulder, still hoping for some kind of guidance from Wesley; but he was only trying to stagger to his feet, blood running down his head.
Blood trickling from where Connor had thrown him into that wall, that look of shocked betrayal on Wesley’s face because Connor had taken such obvious pleasure in hurting him. The feel of the knife slashing his chest. Wesley’s hand on his face. The sorrow and love in his eyes...
“Look out!” Wesley pointed blearily behind him and Connor snapped back out of it, ducking and spinning again; taking a blow to the chin that sent him reeling backwards; Wesley automatically grabbing him by the shoulders.
“Are you all right?”
Connor looked over his shoulder. “Do you have a stake?”
Wesley blinked at him in confusion and then said, “Oh yes, wait…” He began to rummage in the bag he was carrying. Connor grabbed him quickly and pulled him out of the reach of the vampire with the lead pipe. “Duck!” he hissed at him. Wesley did so, but dropped the bag in the process. Connor wondered just how bad that blow to his head had been.
“I’ll get it…” Wesley sank down, scrabbling in the bag, while Connor spun and kicked out at the second vampire, before punching the first hard on the jaw to try to hold him off. It felt instinctive, like old dance steps he’d used to practice until they became second nature. He took a blow on the jaw that knocked him into the opposite wall of the alley, elbowing himself off the stones desperately as the other vampire swooped on Wesley again, body checking it hard away from the man on the ground.
“The stake!” he shouted over his shoulder to Wesley as he slammed the vampire hard into the wall and kneed it in the groin. Cordelia had taught him that move. He remembered her teaching it to him. The vampire doubled up and Connor hastily ducked the lead pipe once again, before grabbing Wesley by the shoulder and hauling him up and out of the reach of the follow up swing.
Wesley almost fumbled the stake again and then shoved it into Connor’s hands.
“Thank you,” said Connor breathlessly, before shoving him hastily out of the way and spinning around. He ducked the lead pipe and jabbed the stake in low and hard, under the ribcage and up. Then he was spitting out a mouthful of dust and spinning around again to position himself between Wesley and the second vampire, which was advancing on him with a murderous look in his eyes. Connor jerked his head out of the way of a punch, kicked out hard, and as the vampire stumbled pounced on it, driving the stake into its chest. There was a horrible moment when it felt like real flesh, real bone; he even heard its breastbone crack, and then the point found the heart and there was the proof that this really was an undead thing he had killed. He stumbled backwards, waving the dust away and turned to Wesley in mild exasperation.
“Wesley, what were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Wesley had a hand clasped to his bleeding forehead and was looked at him warily. “I – got lost.”
“How can you be lost?” Connor demanded. “You’re a block from the Hyperion.”
Wesley looked at the blood on his fingers. “My head hurts.” He sounded very young and a little plaintive.
Despite being half his age, Connor felt all his elder brother instincts kick in. “Are you going to pass out?”
“No.” Wesley gave him another wary look from under his eyelashes.
Connor sighed and took him by the elbow. “Let’s get you home. You do know Angel is going to be mad about you laying traps for vampires with no back up, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t. I just got turned around. I was trying to find the shop. Xander and Spike are always going to the shop. I wanted a bar of chocolate.”
Connor looked at his face to see if he was joking. “It’s the other way, Wesley. Up there.” As Wesley continued to look at him as if he’d never seen him before in his life, Connor frowned. “I thought you got your memories back. Don’t you know who I am? My parents came to see you at Wolfram & Hart, remember? I’m Connor.”
“Connor.” Wesley stared at him in horror. So this is how it feels to be the family skeleton in the closet, Connor thought wryly. Wesley wasn’t actually making the sign of the cross but Connor might as well have been monkey’s paw boy back from the grave given the way Wesley was gazing at him.
“It’s not that bad, you know. I don’t eat people. Despite being the biological son of two people who sort of…did.”
Wesley put a hand up to his head, swaying so much he looked as if he was going to faint, and Connor quickly grabbed his elbow again. “Easy, Wesley.” He looped Wesley’s arm around his shoulders, uncomfortably reminded as he did so of Wesley bringing Angel back to the Hyperion.
“But I… You’re the baby I stole… I’m so sorry for what I…”
Connor hushed him quickly. “We shouldn’t talk about this. Not without Angel – he doesn’t like me to…. You know how he is. He likes to keep it separate. Likes me to keep it separate.” Likes to keep me separate from the rest of you so much he stole your memories to make that happen.
“I’m so sorry.” Wesley gave him a look of such wretched and guilt-stricken remorse that Connor stopped in his tracks.
“Look, I’m not into blaming anyone, okay? I like my life. I love my parents. I love my sisters. I’m grateful for what Angel did. It’s not like I don’t have my share of things to apologize for. Like hitting you so hard that time. Are we cool about that by the way?”
Wesley dropped his gaze. “I don’t – I don’t remember it.”
Connor frowned in confusion. “But you were right there when the Orlon window – I thought you got them back too? You mean, you didn’t recognize me? You didn’t know who I was?”
Wesley shook his head.
“But you met me at Wolfram & Hart.”
“I don’t remember that either.”
Connor steadied him against the wall. “Maybe I should take you straight to a hospital.”
“No, it’s… I didn’t remember before. There was a spell. There was a bomb inside me and Willow did a spell and I…I don’t remember the past five years. I don’t think I want to.” He darted Connor another look as if looking for guidance and Connor automatically tightened his grip.
He’d never really understood in his old incarnation why Angel acted so protective of these screwed up grown ups he’d collected around him. He’d tried to think of them as family, just because they were the only approximation he had, but once they’d decided to oppose Cordelia and threaten their baby they’d become enemies, only to become allies again once Jasmine had welcomed them into the fold, only for them to make themselves his enemies once again when they’d turned against her. He sighed, looking at Wesley’s pale unshaven face, getting it at last, how these people had been the kids Angel had before his real kid had come along and brought him so much joy and happiness, of course. Yeah right. Some memories were always going to suck. Wesley might be a grown up from Connor’s perspective, but without the shotgun and the designer shirts, he looked kind of skinny and vulnerable, not to mention in serious need of a babysitter before he was let out where the vampires lived again because his self defence skills seemed to have dropped about five thousand points. Connor took a handkerchief from his pocket, put it in the man’s hand and then gently clamped the hand over the head wound.
“Still playing with the magic then?” He gave him an encouraging smile to show it was a joke, but Wesley just looked wary and bewildered.
Connor sighed. Tough audience. “Let’s get you back to the Hyperion so Angel can yell at you and…” He’d been going to say ‘And Fred or Cordy can patch you up’ but, of course, there was no Fred or Cordy any more. He flinched inside when he thought of Cordy. He tightened his grip on Wesley’s elbow and said gently, “Well, I’m hoping to be a doctor, so I guess this will be a good chance for me to practise. I’ve got to tell you, Wesley, the intern part of me is really hoping you need stitches because I’m not so good at those yet.”
This time Wesley seemed to get it was a joke because he managed something that was almost a smile. “How – comforting.”
Connor smiled in relief that Wesley was looking slightly less jumpy and guilt-ridden. “They told you all about stealing me but they didn’t bother to tell you where the local store was, eh?” he observed conversationally. “Those people always had the oddest priorities.”
Wesley darted him another look and Connor tightened the grip on him gently. “Humour – it’s something we humans have. You should try it.”
And Wesley was looking a little less deer in headlights now, which was something. “Well, you know, I am English.”
“Hey, no one’s judging you. Son of two vampires – son of two English people. Everyone has their problems.”
And that was an honest to goodness smile. “I thought you’d be…”
“Weirder?” Connor enquired.
“More damaged.”
Connor looked at Wesley and felt a twist of compassion for him so strong it actually hurt. “It’s a decision we make, Wesley. To be damaged or not. Last time I chose wrong. I got the opportunity to choose right.”
“What if life damages you beyond repair?”
Connor thought of how it had been to be him, crazy with loss, the world a ruined place again, no hope for anyone or anything, because people didn’t know what they had, didn’t protect who they loved, didn’t keep their families safe, didn’t know how lucky they were to have them in the first place.
“You don’t let it.” He tightened his grip as Wesley swayed again. “You keep believing there will be something better and you don’t give into despair.” And then they were outside the Hyperion. He couldn’t help flinching a little inside as he looked at it. All the harm that had been done in here. All the anger and arguments and loss and pain. Lilah had died in here and Connor hadn’t cared that a woman who had been living and breathing a few minutes before had been lying there dead, bleeding from the neck his monster of a father had drunk from; he’d just wondered why it was taking Wesley so damned long to dismember her corpse. He winced as he realized that Wesley didn’t know about that any more. Only as something people had told him, presuming they had told him about it. He didn’t remember it, or her, presumably. He gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Angel’s going to ground you for a month, you know that, right? And if Gunn’s in there, there’s going to be yelling. He was always yelling.”
Wesley looked nervously at the doors. “They haven’t… So far there hasn’t been… They yell?”
“Oh boy, yeah. Loudly. You want to think of that before you go wandering off into dark alleyways by yourself.” Connor opened the doors, calling out, “Anyone here?”
There had been noise coming from the office, but at the sound of his voice there was an abrupt silence, followed by the door opening and people spilling out. Angel had that expression that always made Connor hurt inside; all that anxiety and concern and terror and love in equal parts. Afraid that something had happened that was going to hurt Connor some more; all that longing for the son he had lost. Connor gritted his teeth, forced a smile onto his face and helped Wesley down the stairs.
“I found Wesley outside,” he explained. “He didn’t know who I was. Vampires were trying to eat him.”
“Are you…?” Angel advanced towards Connor, still gazing at him as if he thought he might shatter into a million pieces, and then noticed who was with him. “Wesley? What? Vampires were what…?”
“English, what the hell were you thinking?” Gunn demanded.
Connor looked at Wesley. “Told you.”
“Connor, why are you here?” Angel frowned in bewilderment. “And, Wesley, why were you outside?”
“He was trying to find the store.” Connor helped Wesley over to the banquette and made him sit down, adding over his shoulder: “You guys told him about me and you didn’t tell him where he could buy a Snickers bar? Don’t you think that’s kind of mean?”
Angel crouched down by them. “Wes, are you…? How badly are you…?”
“I’m hoping he needs stitches,” Connor told the vampire cheerfully. “But so far it’s not looking too hopeful. I’ve got a horrible feeling some hydrogen peroxide will probably be enough.”
Wesley looked up at Connor. “I forgot to thank you.”
“That’s okay. Your horrified expression when I told you my name was thanks enough.” Connor rolled his eyes. “That was another joke. Did everyone lose his sense of humour while I’ve been gone?”
Wesley gave Angel an apologetic look. “I got lost. Connor saved me.”
“You did?” Angel beamed at Connor so proudly that Connor felt that familiar twinge of compassion for him. His birth father really was a dork sometimes.
Connor shrugged. “Hey, Wesley provided the stake. Can I play doctor now?”
“So, this is the chip off the old block, is it?” Connor turned to see the vampire Angel had introduced to him as ‘Spike’ looking at him warily. “Last time we met old broodypants didn’t tell me you were family.”
“It’s good no one’s treading on your head any more,” Connor told him cheerfully. “And I didn’t know I was family back then. Or the source of all woe and misery in the Angel Investigations world.” As they all winced, he sighed. “No one gets my sense of humour. Damp cloth anyone? I don’t get bleeding people to practice on that often.”
“You should move back in.” Spike shrugged. “We’ve always got them around here.” Angel looked at the other vampire in horror and Spike backed up with his hands in the air. “Just trying to lighten the doom-laden atmosphere. Excuse me for not breathing.”
Connor looked up to find the green-skinned demon putting a damp cloth in his hands. He realized he should have checked with him first whether he wanted Angel to know the real reason why he was here. He gave him an enquiring look, at the same time juggling those strange double memories he got when he looked at these people. “Thanks, Lorne.”
“I asked Connor to come here.” Lorne faced Angel defiantly.
The vampire was torn between looking at Wesley’s wound, gazing at Connor as if he thought he might evaporate, and taking in what Lorne had just said. “You… what…? Why?”
Lorne had evidently expected anger but the confused accusation in Angel’s eyes seemed to upset him more. He sighed, “Angelcakes…”
“Hey,” Connor looked up. “Can I deal with my patient first?”
As they all took a step back a respectful distance, he peered intently at the cut on Wesley’s head, sighing as his worst suspicions were confirmed.
“What is it?” Angel demanded anxiously. “Is his skull fractured?” Gunn was already reaching for the phone, presumably to call an ambulance. Connor smiled inside, because dysfunctional though these people would probably always be they seemed to have remembered the importance of acting like a family. He blinked in confusion as more people stepped out of the office, including two incredibly pretty girls, one blonde, the other redheaded. Oh, another memory. He knew the redhead. Not the blonde though. She was really pretty. He gazed up at Angel fondly, the vampire darting worried looks at Wesley who was looking up at Angel with an expression on his face of undisguised apology. If Wesley had walked into the Hyperion with that look on his face a year ago, Connor suspected that Angel and Gunn would have forgiven him on the spot. There was definitely something to be said for new beginnings.
Connor finished dabbing at Wesley’s head and sat back. “Just my luck. Doesn’t even need stitches and no concussion either. That’s disappointing.” He squeezed Wesley’s shoulder gently. “Not that I’m blaming you. You gave getting yourself seriously injured your best shot.” He looked up at Gunn. “You are going to yell at him now, right? Because I promised him yelling.”
Gunn smiled at Connor, relief obvious on his face. “Damned straight.”
“I think you should ground him.” Connor looked at Angel. “Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.” He glanced across at the two pretty girls again. “Is anyone going to…introduce me?”
Gunn looked at the blonde girl and then back at Angel. “Um…well… Connor? When you got that…make over, they fixed you having the thing for Angel’s old flames, right?”
“Not to mention the Slayer thing?” Lorne added.
As everyone looked at him, Connor glanced back at the blonde girl and felt the familiar stirrings of interest. He gave Angel a rueful smile. “I guess some things are constants in any reality.”
“Willow’s not a Slayer or Angel’s old flame,” Gunn nodded to the redhead.
“I remember her.” Connor put his head on one side. “You’re a witch.”
“Yes.” She looked around the assembled people with a warning expression. “And a lesbian. Who therefore doesn’t date college boys, even to stop Buffy doing it.”
“Cool,” he told her cheerfully, before turning back to Buffy like a compass drawn to magnetic north. “And you’re a Slayer? Like Faith?”
“Buffy is Angel and Spike’s old flame,” Lorne said pointedly.
“She’s really pretty,” Connor observed.
Gunn sighed. “I guess some things really do never change.”
Buffy continued to gaze at Connor awkwardly. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Connor assured her, still gazing.
Angel gazed at him in disbelief. “Connor…”
He grinned up at him. “Just reminding you it wasn’t all good times. But, don’t worry. I’m not here to mangle anyone’s psyche, just to help out with whatever problem it is Lorne thought I could help out with. And practice a little doctoring on Wesley here.” He wiped the last of the blood from Wesley’s face and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re good to be yelled at any time Gunn wants to make a start on that.”
“Perhaps Wesley could have a cup of tea first?” A handsome older man, bespectacled and formally dressed, moved in dexterously to pluck Wesley out of yelling range. He offered his other hand to Connor. “Rupert Giles, Buffy’s Watcher, a pleasure to meet you, Connor.”
“Connor Reilly.” Connor shook his hand firmly.
Gunn stabbed a finger at Wesley as Giles helped him towards the office. “There will be yelling, English.”
Connor waited until Wesley was safely in the office and out of earshot then looked at Angel enquiringly. “What happened to Wesley?”
“He lost his memory,” Buffy said.
“No, I mean – he used to be good in a fight. Those vampires would have skinned him alive.”
Lorne held out his hands to Connor. “Thank you.”
Connor became aware of everyone looking at Angel accusingly. “Did I…say the wrong thing?”
“No, you said the right thing.” Spike nodded at Angel. “Broody pants here wants to keep Wesley in cotton wool cloud never never land.”
Angel gazed at Connor. “You agree with me, don’t you? That everyone deserves a second chance?”
Connor realized what he had been brought into the middle of and took a deep breath. “I’m thinking a cup of tea sounds like a good idea and maybe I should just call my mom and dad to let them know I’ll be late home. I have a feeling this is going to take a while…”
***
