goddess amulet

Title: Angels and Insects
Pairing: Angel/Spike/Connor
Summary: Angel would do anything to protect his son, but his efforts have some unintended consquences, for both Connor and Spike.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and a bunch of other people. I'm not one of them.

WARNINGS for adult incest, daddy!kink, violence, swearing and general dirtybadwrongness

Special thanks to my beta, kita0610, who made me work this piece hard, and made me believe I could do it. This one is all for you, babe. *big smoochies*

Chapter One
Chapter Two


The days passed in a desert of restless sleep; the nights in a windstorm of violence. Connor counted time by the number of demons he killed. Every night, new hides to skin. New claws to cut off. A dozen different colors of blood, smeared in glistening trails all over the city. And none of them led to Wolfram & Hart.

It was a trail of red, finally, that gave him his first lead.

Spike had sniffed out some of his old poker buddies from accounts receivable. Took a while. Three were dead, and the fourth didn’t want to be found.

Connor found him, anyway.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know anything,” the man burbled through a mouthful of blood. “The sons of bitches fired me after they closed up shop.”

“They haven’t closed up shop.” Connor punched him again.

“Corporate has.” The man turned his head and spit, and a tooth clattered to the pavement. His words came out fast, a rabbit on the run. “Look around. You see a Wolfram & Hart office anywhere? Their headquarters were wiped out twice in the last two years. Once by the Beast…”

“…once by Angel,” Connor finished.

“L.A.’s not cost-effective anymore. They’ve changed tactics.”

Connor squeezed the man’s arms until the bones started to crack. “How?”

“Agh! Jesus, let go!” He was close to gnawing off his own foot to get out of the snare. “Guerilla warfare, alright? Instead of accountants and lawyers, they’ve got fanatics hiding in the concrete jungle. Recruit a few nutbars, blow up a target every couple of months.”

“And my family was one of the targets.” Connor kneed him in the groin, and the man went down. “Where are they?”

“They got cells all over town,” he gasped. “Caves, sewers, abandoned buildings. Anyplace they can use as a bolt hole. Move in fast, move out faster.”

Connor got down on the ground, pulled the man’s head up by his hair. With his other hand he pulled out a knife. Held the point of it up to the man’s eye. “Tell me where to find one,” he said.

Ten minutes later and the guy told him. After he’d stopped screaming.

*

The wall of the cave didn’t so much collapse as peel back, like the tin off a can of sardines. Angel stepped through the hole Illyria had made, sword swinging. A minute later, there was only a single human left standing, behind a desk at the back of the room.

“Angel.” Voice like a bee sting, honey and venom together. “You’re early.”

Angel took in the familiar form, dressed in unfamiliar army fatigues. “Lindsey,” he growled. “Lorne was supposed to kill you.”

“Did a bang-up job, too. Wolfram & Hart can break anyone out of hell. They own most of it.”

“So. Back to being a lowly minion again.” Angel spun his sword around in a slow circle. “Sucks to be you.”

“Beats getting your eyeballs eaten by rats for all eternity. But then you were always partial to rats, weren’t you?”

“Enough to know one when I smell it.” Angel leapt over the desk and squeezed a hand around Lindsey’s neck. “And you’re gonna start squealing. What’s the plan?”

“Same as always,” he gritted out. “Destruction. Mayhem. Third-quarter profit margins.”

“I mean,” Angel slammed Lindsey’s head back against the cave wall, “for Connor.”

“Plan’s already been executed. Job done, move onto another target. Bigger fish to fry.” He shoved Angel’s hand away. Rubbed his throat. “Hard as it may be to believe, it’s not always about you.”

“So I’m supposed to believe that you’re gonna, what? Just walk away?”

“For now. You want people to live in fear, you gotta leave ’em with something to lose. A mom. Kid sister.” Lindsey’s lips curled back over his teeth. “New boyfriend.”

Angel punched him, twice, then grabbed him by the shirt and threw him across the room.
Strode over to where he’d landed on the floor. Bent down, got right in Lindsey’s face.
“I don’t have anyone left to lose. You can’t kill Connor. What are you gonna do to me?”

“We don’t need to do anything. Why do you think we left you alive in that alley? We knew you’d fuck it up, like you always do. You. Your boys.” He nodded at Illyria. “Even her.”

“I vanquished my enemies in battle,” she said. “I do not owe my existence to the Wolf, Ram and Hart.”

“No,” Lindsey said. “You just survived. We’re not really sure how.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nice job sniffing us out, by the way. Did better than Connor.”

Illyria lifted her head with something akin to pride. “I have been studying warrens such as this.”

Angel got to his feet. Kicked Lindsey in the ribs for good measure.

“Stay away from my son,” he snarled.

“You’re too late, there, champ. Damage is done.”

“He’ll survive this.”

Lindsey’s eyes glittered like a glacier under the Arctic sun. “Yeah. That’s the point.”

*

By the time Connor and Spike found the cave, there was nothing but a gaping hole in the wall. Bodies, scent, weapons, paper trail – everything had been scrubbed clean.

“Dammit!” Connor whirled around the space, hair spinning into his eyes. “How did they know we were coming?”

“Groups like this – they always know,” Spike said. “It’s like those opposable magnets, chasing each other around a board. Get close to one hideout, they pull up stakes and move to another.”

“Then let’s blow up the board,” Connor said, eyes like a charging bull. “Root up the whole city till we find them.”

Spike’s eyebrows drew together. “People gotta live here, Connor.”

Connor let out a howl and punched the cave wall, then punched it again. Kept battering until dust fell from the roof onto his hair, his shoulders. His knuckles turned into a mealy pulp under the onslaught.

Spike reached out for his arm. “Here, now -- ”

Connor whirled around and kicked him in the gut. Spike landed in the middle of the room, on his back. Connor leapt over, straddled him and hit him in the face. But Spike was done playing punching bag. He grabbed Connor’s arms, flipped them both over. Got Connor face down on the floor, arms pinned behind his back.

“That’s enough,” Spike said, in a voice he’d used on Dru once or twice. “You gonna play nice now?”

Connor kept squirming underneath him. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.”

“Know enough of his tricks, though, don’t I? Know a thing or two about keeping his brats from killin’ themselves.”

“Fuck you.” Connor twisted and bucked, managed to roll himself onto his back. Spike was still straddling him. “Fuck you,” he said again, but this time, their eyes locked. Connor’s tongue flicked out from between his lips, the way Angel’s always did right before he kissed him.

Spike crashed his mouth down on Connor’s, yanked his arms up, pinning the bloody hands over his head. The scent alone was enough to make his head swim. Connor pulled his hands free, tore at their clothes. Spike pushed the boy’s legs up, bent him nearly in half. Brought up fresh blood as he thrust in, hard. His ears roared.

“Is this how he did it?” Connor ground his teeth together. “How he kept you in line?”

“Sometimes.” Christ, the way the kid was squeezing around his cock -- Spike had to choke the words out. “Fucked me. Beat the crap outta me. Bled me till I passed out.”

Connor put his fist up to Spike’s lips and Spike fastened on, tongue lapping between the knuckles. The taste slid down his throat and into his balls. His game face came out, and this time he didn’t try to hide it.

“Filthy demon,” Connor muttered, bucking his hips up. He turned his head, bared his neck. “Do it,” he said. Spike stared, mesmerized, but he hesitated.

“Do it!” Connor snarled, and punched him in the face. Spike’s head snapped back, and when it came forward again his teeth landed in Connor’s throat. He surged forward, riptides and blinding light, whole body following his dick. Connor’s howl sounded very far away.

Spike pulled his fangs out of Connor’s neck as soon as their hips stopped moving. It took him a lot longer before he could put his game face away.

A tear rolled sleepily down Connor’s cheek. “You didn’t take enough,” he mumbled.

Spike thumbed the tear away. “Missed the artery,” he said. “Not gonna help you kill yourself.”

Connor gave a small huff. “Who else is gonna do it? Angel already did. Didn’t take. Wolfram & Hart can’t.”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking it’s time we gave up on this pet project of yours. Even if we find these guys, take them all out, there’ll be more signing up tomorrow to take their place. You should go back to your Mum. Live your life.”

Connor sat up, tipped over slightly. Spike held him upright. “I’m doing this for her,” he said. “Don’t you see that?”

Spike ran his fingers tenderly over the bite marks in Connor’s neck. They’d already started to heal. “How’s she doing?”

“Okay, I guess. I haven’t talked to her in a few days.”

“ ’Magine she’s worried about you.”

“At least she’s safe, where she is.” Connor closed his eyes, laid his head down on Spike’s shoulder. “I miss my dad,” he said.

Spike stroked his hair. “Which one?’’

“All of them.”

*

“Is your mission accomplished now?”

Angel looked up from his chair in the lobby, wondering where the hell Illyria had come from. All this time spent with her, and he still couldn’t hear the slightest noise when she approached. “What mission?” he asked.

“You have rooted out your enemy’s foot soldier. Obtained information that is important to your cause. What use do you plan to make of it?”

Angel looked past her to the fichus tree over her shoulder. “Connor’s safe. That’s all I need to know.”

“You are wrong.”

A flicker of fear crossed Angel’s brow. “Wrong that he’s safe?”

“Wrong in that you require nothing else. You are despondent. Without purpose. A being without purpose is like an insect without its colony. You deserve to be trampled beneath my boot heels.”

He folded his arms. “Fine. Trample away.”

“You have abandoned your colony.”

“My what?”

“I have observed that humans require a social structure in which to function. Family. Friends. These are the structures upon which humans build their puny alliances.”

“I’m not a human.”

“Yet neither are you demon. In my day, demons were instruments of the gods, with no more self-awareness than a sword.”

Angel gave a sharp laugh. “Well, I like the phallic imagery, at least.”

“You are more than a sword. You swing any way you choose.”

“What?”

“You make choices. You direct your own course of action.”

He snorted. “Doesn’t really feel like it much, these days.”

“You are angry with your vampire offspring.”

“He’s not my offspring.”

“Because he has stolen your son.”

Angel made no reply. Just stared at the vine that curled around the arm of his chair.

“Wesley stole your son.”

He looked up into her face. Illyria tilted her head.

“You never forgave him.”

“I gave him a new life. Both of them.”

“As instruments, without choices. With no more will than the roaches beneath your feet.”

He sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. “Well, everybody knows that when the world finally ends, the roaches are gonna take over.”

“And what will become of you, when the roaches are the victors?” He looked into her eyes, and for the first time since she’d clawed her way out of the Well, Angel could see a crack in her imperious gaze. “Your place is with your colony. If you do not rejoin them, your fate will be the same as mine.” She turned to go, trailing her fingers over the leaves of the vine. “I would not wish it upon anyone.”

*

Pour. Sip. Swallow. Refill. Angel had perfected this art back when he was human. Nowadays it took a lot more sips to get him where he wanted to be. But he’d get there. He had nothing but time.

The whiskey was good. Irish, aged 12 years. Cordelia had bought it for him as a gift the week after Connor was born. “We never got a chance to celebrate,” she’d said, “what with all the demons chasing us. We’ll drink it together on his first birthday.”

A year later, Angel had watched the skies burn as she boned him. Sip.

He sat in his office, the whiskey a lonely sentinel on his desk. Wasn’t always my desk, he thought. Wesley used to sit here, bent over his books. Angel wished he were here now, so he could sweep the books off the desk, bend him over it and fuck him till he bled. He should have done it back then, given Wes what he so obviously wanted. Might have kept the fucker from running off into the night with his kid. Sip.

He’d bought Connor a tiny hockey jersey, the week before Wes took him. And little bitty hockey sticks. He didn’t even know if Connor liked hockey. But he bet Spike knew. Sip.

Spike didn’t know jack about hockey. He knew about other things. How to comfort a madwoman, keep her from biting off her own tongue with just the sound of his voice. How far you could shove an ice pick through a man’s brain before he lost the power of speech. Because you had to keep him talking, if he was gonna spill the secrets of how to destroy an evil law firm.

Angel flexed his fist, trying to conjure up the feel of the knife that had given Connor his new life. He felt the weight of the wood in his hand, saw the flash of steel. But when he swung his arm, the blade sliced through nothing but air.

*

The third bottle was almost empty by the time he got to Spike’s apartment. By that time he had a little trouble remembering how he got there. Something about his colony setting sail on the Mayflower. Well, he was gonna stage a mutiny. Tie up the captain, kidnap the cabin boy and keep him locked in his room where the sea monsters could never get him. He pounded on the door.

It opened and Spike’s scent assaulted him. Except it wasn’t Spike standing there. It was Connor, in just his jeans. Feet bare, no shirt on. Lithe and lean with blueberry eyes. Lips red and parted and a just-been-kissed expression on his face.

He was so fucking beautiful.

“Dad,” he said.

The sound of that one word, falling from those lips, was enough to sweep away Angel’s anger like ashes from a hearth. He took a step across the threshold and fell to his knees, his arms wrapping around Connor’s waist. The bottle tumbled to the floor.

“Connor,” he gasped.

Connor’s hands reached down and ran through his hair, and a small sound hitched in Angel’s chest. The hands were sunlight on his face. A warm summer wind. They were love and forgiveness, and all the things Angel never thought he would have.

“I love you,” he sobbed. “God, Connor, I love you so much.”

“Shhhh,” Connor soothed. “It’s okay, Dad. It’s okay.”

Then there were other hands on Angel’s face, brushing away tears. Angel turned his head to find Spike on his knees next to him.

“You,” Angel whispered. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spike sighed. “I hate you, too, ya sod.” Then Spike’s mouth was on his, and Angel remembered again how the two of them had never been any good at talking.

But oh, god, the kiss. It was everything Angel wanted in a kiss. Home and family and nights filled with the hunt. Spike’s mouth opened and let Angel taste everything that lay within -- passion and wild things and sweet, utter surrender. Spike arched his neck back, letting Angel climb up into his mouth, and how could he have forgotten? That Spike was his, would always be his; might scratch and fight and decide to run, but would always come back, bringing with him all the lost and broken things he’d gathered along the way.

Spike toppled over backwards and Angel fell on top of him. His mouth moved in a long, slow slide down Spike’s neck, from his ear to his collarbone and back up again. Spike whimpered and bucked up against him. “Da,” he whispered. “Fuck, Da.”

Then Angel heard shallow breathing coming from over his shoulder. He turned his head. Connor was staring down at them, mouth open.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s… kinda hot.”

Angel’s dick jumped in his pants.

Spike gently pushed Angel away and sat up. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated Connor for a long moment. “You sure?” he asked.

Connor nodded.

Spike reached out and took Connor’s hand. In one swift movement, he pulled himself to his feet and tugged Connor down to the floor, kneeling next to Angel.

Angel’s mouth went dry.

“Connor,” he said. “Baby. I wanted to give you everything.”

Connor reached out and took Angel’s face in both hands. “You can give me this,” he said.

Angel looked into Connor’s face, watched him lick his lips. “Son…”

“Shut up,” Connor whispered, and Angel did.

He closed in slowly, as if he were trying to catch a raindrop on his tongue. At the first touch of Connor’s lips on his, Angel prayed.

Please, God, don’t let him stop.

God wasn’t anywhere in this room. But Connor kept kissing him anyway.

His lips were so soft. Ripe and warm like summer fruit. Angel felt a little boy tongue slip into his mouth, and he sucked in a breath. Connor moaned and the sound went straight to his balls. He reached up and gripped Connor’s head. His hair was fine and soft, silk between his fingers.

“My boy,” Angel whispered against his mouth. “My beautiful boy.”

Connor pulled back a little, just enough to slide his hands down the front of Angel’s shirt. Button by button, he made his way down. When he got to the last one, he dipped his fingers down under Angel’s belt, sweeping two warm fingers over the head of his cock.

“Jesus,” Angel breathed.

Spike was behind him then, tugging Angel’s shirt off his shoulders. The two of them pulled Angel to his feet and maneuvered him towards the bed. Spike had gotten a new bed since the last time Angel had been here. A much bigger one. He tumbled back onto it, and Connor peeled off the rest of their clothes. Spike was already naked. That was his boy, always ready to fuck. Angel couldn’t help a little smile.

Connor smiled back at him. “You look good when you do that,” he said.

He crawled between Angel’s legs and took his cock in both hands. Angel’s belly did a little flip at the feel of warm skin around his dick. Then Connor lifted his head and looked at Spike.

“Tell me how he likes it.”

Angel closed his eyes and moaned out loud.

Spike shifted around, ran a finger along Angel’s cock. “Right there.” Connor’s tongue darted out to follow the path, and fuck, it was so warm. Small breaths shivering over wet skin. “Just soft at first. Barely there, that’s it.” Spike’s voice was low, brothels and red velvet. “Use your teeth a bit, just a nibble.” Angel squirmed on the bed. “Yeah. See how he likes that?

Spike rested his hand on Connor’s head, stroked his hair. “Now all the way down,” he murmured, and Angel watched as his cock slid into a hot, slippery mouth.

“Oh, god,” he moaned. “Connor, please…”

“Shhhh,” Spike whispered. “We’re gettin’ there. Now just on that same spot, but a little harder. Just let it build for a bit. Gets him going reeal good.” Angel’s fingers began to curl into the bed sheets. “That’s it. Now, take your hand,” he took Connor’s hand, and Angel could feel two sets of fingers between his balls, “and press right. There.” Angel bucked and thrust up hard into Connor’s mouth.

“Now take it as far as you can, like you’re trying to swallow it down.” Angel’s hands flew to Connor’s head, landing on top of Spike’s fingers, squeezing them hard. After that, he couldn’t hear Spike’s voice any more, drowned out by his own babble: “So good, baby. Just like that. Just the way Daddy likes it. God, baby, your mouth -- ” His body arched and he came with a strangled cry, hands pressing against Spike’s fist and Connor’s skull.

Angel lay still for a moment, waiting for the room to spin back into focus. When it did, he saw Connor crawling into Spike’s lap. He watched as their hands entwined; as they kissed, deep and hungry; as Spike tasted his come in Connor’s mouth. His cock began to twitch back to life.

Then he was rolled onto his side and Connor was behind him and Spike was in front, and there were hands and skin and tongue everywhere on his body. Hands on his ribs, his legs, between his balls. Skin pressed up against his back and chest. Teeth against his nipples, taking tiny bites. When he felt a warm tongue wriggling its way inside him, slicking him up, he froze.

Angel had tried never to fantasize about this moment. God knows, he’d tried not to lay in bed alone, hands under the covers, imagining Connor’s body beneath his own. In those imaginings, Connor had been pliant and grateful, letting Angel cover his body like a shield. In those imaginings, it had never occurred to him that Connor might want to be the one doing the saving.

“Stupid git,” Spike whispered against Angel’s chest. “Let him love you.” He pulled Angel’s leg up and the tongue moved away. Then Connor slid into him, and every wall that Angel had ever built around himself collapsed with a trumpeting cry.

Connor moved inside him as if he were something precious and breakable. As if his soul were fragile and full of light, not the leaden weight that crushed everything it touched. Spike slid down Angel’s body and sucked his cock into his mouth, scraping the skin with his teeth, and Angel moaned in gratitude at this reminder of everything they were. Because otherwise it would be perfect and miraculous, like Connor himself, and it would be all too easy to forget, just for a moment, that he was a monster.

“I love you, Dad,” whispered in his ear, and Angel came hard in Spike’s mouth, shouting his son’s name.

*

They tumbled and turned all night, bright and slow, like a Ferris wheel. Turn, and Spike and Connor were the young lovers, sharing kisses and cotton candy. Turn, and Angel held Connor in his lap while his boy squirmed with delight. Turn, and Angel and Spike scratched and bit their way up to the top of the wheel, to where their history lay stretched out beyond the horizon. The words tumbled and rotated, too: slut and love you and baby and harder and please, Daddy, please please please

They collapsed at sunrise, limbs loose and floppy, tangled around each other like kittens in a basket. Slept most of the day away, till Connor crawled out of bed, complaining he was hungry. Spike had no food in the fridge, so Connor went out for breakfast. Or, supper, as the case may be.

Spike sat up in bed and rubbed his face. Reached over to the side table and pulled out his fags. Angel’s eyes twitched open as soon as he lit up.

“You shouldn’t smoke around him,” Angel said.

Spike heaved the sigh of the eternally put-upon. “Yes, Daddy.” Angel’s eyes closed again and Spike nudged his leg under the sheet. “Aren’t you gonna tell me not to call you that?”

“Not today.”

Spike grinned and took another puff.

Angel sat up and took the cigarette out of Spike’s hand. He reached behind Spike’s neck, pulled him close and kissed him. Nice and soft. Spike’s belly might have fluttered, just a bit.

“Thanks for looking after him,” Angel said, then gave Spike back his fag.

Spike shrugged. “ ’S what I do, yeah? Look after your toys. Had a hundred years of practice.”

“They’re not toys,” Angel said quietly.

“They break just as easy, sometimes.”

They shared Spike’s fag in silence for a minute. “Is he still on the rampage?” Angel finally asked.

“Out hunting every night. Not gettin’ anywhere, though.”

“I tried to tell him he wouldn’t.”

“Me, too. But he’s as stubborn as his old man.”

“He can’t keep this up.”

“Try tellin’ him that. He’s not gonna listen to you now any more than he ever did. Afterglow notwithstanding.”

Angel leaned his head back against the pillows. “Afterglow. Fuck, Spike, of all the things I’ve ever done…”

“Wasn’t just you doing, here, Angel.”

“I know, but,” he ran a hand over his face, “this can’t happen again.”

“Not sayin’ it should. But he wanted this. You do know that, right?”

“I just wish he wanted different things. Human things. Hunting, killing,” he nodded at the rumpled sheets, “this. That’s not what his life should be about.”

Spike stubbed out his fag, turned his body around until they were face to face. Stroked a hand down the middle of Angel’s chest. “But it is still what we’re about, yeah?”

Angel’s eyes darkened and he leaned in. Put his face along the length of Spike’s neck and nuzzled there.

“You’ve been feeding from him.” His voice was coal mines and cobblestones, murder and menace.

“Yeah,” Spike breathed. “Kid begs me for it. Comes so hard when I do it. Nearly squeezes my dick off.” At that, Angel wrapped his fingers around the base of Spike’s cock and gripped it hard. Spike gasped. “You should taste him, Angelus. All that power. Can’t hardly stop myself, sometimes.”

Angel’s hand moved lower and he twisted Spike’s balls. “If you ever hurt him, so help me…”

Spike whimpered in pain. He shook his head quick. “Kid’s like a wild colt. Could buck me off anytime he wanted. No danger there.” Angel’s hand let go and Spike let out a long breath. He stretched his neck out. Knew Angel could smell Connor’s blood pooled beneath his skin. “Go on, then. Take it.”

Angel’s face changed and he sank his teeth in. Bloody hell, it was good. Hearth rugs and satin waistcoats and belonging. Spike felt the rumble building in Angel’s chest, felt it vibrate up his throat and against his skin. He bit deeper, pushing Spike onto his back, climbing on top of him, pressing their dicks together. Angel sucked until Spike was dizzy with it, until the room spun and changed and he was back in a four poster bed with velvet covers, golden with firelight and the smell of burning coal. Their cocks slid against each other and Angel humped him hard, harder than he had since those early years; both drunk on the boy’s blood and the shared taste of family. Spike felt it building, felt Angel’s need pressing into his balls, up his spine. There was a final, heaving thrust and a muffled cry, and Angel shot his load all over his cock. Spike came so hard the room went dark, and he fancied that hell had finally come to claim him.

Hell was so much sweeter than he’d ever imagined.

When Spike opened his eyes a minute later, Angel was flat on his back, panting.

“Guess you won’t be wanting breakfast, then,” Spike mumbled.

Angel laughed out loud, for the first time since long before the battle. Made Spike smile to see it. Didn’t last, though.

“I can taste it in him,” Angel said. “All that rage.”

“Can’t fix it, Angel.”

“No. But there might be someone who can.”

*

Connor found his mother in the garden of the Slayers’ compound. She smiled when she saw him, and his heart gave a little jump. She hadn’t done that since before that night.

“God, baby, where have you been?” She stood up and hugged him close. “It’s been days.”

“I’ve been working, Mom.”

“Working on getting yourself killed,” she said quietly.

He pulled away from her. “I can handle myself.”

“A mother worries, Connor. Even if her son is some kind of superhero.”

“We’ve had this talk already, Mom.”

She shook her head slowly. “You’re as stubborn as your father.” Colleen took his hand and led him over to a bench. “There’s something else happening, Connor. I’m worried about your sister.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“She’s been going out with these girls at night. Patrolling. She’d decided she wants to be a vampire slayer.”

Connor’s face paled. “You can’t just decide to be a Slayer, Mom. It’s something you’re born into. She’s not a Slayer.”

“She thinks she can be, if she trains hard enough and learns how to fight. Some of the girls have been teaching her.”

“She’s gonna get herself killed! What the hell is she thinking?”

“She’s not thinking, Connor. That’s the point. She’s angry about what happened.”

“Oh, I’ll show her angry,” Connor snarled, and jumped up to go.

“Stop right there!” Colleen stood and grabbed his arm, gripping it with a strength he never knew she had. He turned back to face her, and her eyes burned with something black and fearsome.

“You think I’m not angry?” She gripped the cross she always wore around her neck. Held it out for him to see. “The only reason I wear this thing anymore is to stave off vampires. I can hardly bear to look at it. Because if God is up there, then how can he let creatures like that walk the earth? How could he have let…” Her voice broke, and she let go of Connor’s arm.

“Mom…”

“Your father’s dead, and I hate him for it. God, I loved him so much, and now all I feel is rage. And now my children are off on this suicide mission, and you’re both going to end up like he did, and I hate you for that, too.”

“We’re trying to protect you, Mom.”

“I’m your mother, Connor! I’m supposed to protect you!”

“Not from this. You said it yourself.” The bitterness dripped from his voice like poison from a fang. “I’m a superhero.”

Colleen looked him square in the eye. Her voice shook. “Do you know what a hero is to me, Connor? It’s someone who takes care of the people he loves. Who helps them through the hard times. Someone who’s around often enough to notice…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and the tears broke over her lashes. “I’m all alone in this place, day after day. Trapped like a bug under glass, and you’re never around. I’m right here, baby, and you don’t even see me.”

Her face cracked wide open, and Connor’s whole childhood tumbled out in front of him. Candy and toy cars and baseball games; summer and skinned knees. Band-aids and kissing it better. He grabbed her and held her tight, tight enough to keep them both from breaking.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I love you, Mom. God, I love you so much.”

“I know, Connor.” She ran her fingers through his hair and they sank together to the ground. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

*

“My mom wants to go back to New York,” Connor said.

“Back?” Spike wanted to look at him, but it meant looking away from the TV screen. The kid was kicking his arse at this game and he needed to catch up.

“Yeah, she’s got family there.” Connor shot down two more robots. Spike cursed. “She says she’s through with California. Too many bad memories.”

“Sounds like a plan. Got it!” The rocket was worth two hundred points. That put them neck and neck. “You gonna go with?”

“I probably should.” There was a whooshing sound as Connor blew up the space station.

“Shit!” Spike growled. A voice came on that sounded like Illyria. Game. Over.

Connor threw the video controller on the table. “It’s just… how do I know they won’t follow us there?”

“You don’t. Evil’s got eyes everywhere. Can’t protect yourself from it, no matter where you go.”

“So I’m supposed to just give up? Sit back and wait for them to hunt us down?”

“You’re supposed to live your life.”

“What kind of a life is that for them? Sitting around, waiting to die.”

“You tell me. You’re the one with the expiration date on the package. I’m gonna live forever.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Look, Connor. Wolfram & Hart went after you and yours to get to Angel. Warn him not to come back at them again. Well, mission accomplished. Angel was through with that lot anyway, the minute he slew that bloody dragon. He’ll go back to helping the helpless or saving puppies, or whatever mission gets up his arse next week. Long as you don’t go antagonizing Evil Incorporated, they’ll leave you alone.”

“How do I know that for sure?”

“You don’t.” Spike sighed. “Look. Angel and me should both be dead by now. The mucky mucks at Wolfram & Hart left Angel alive so they could make him suffer, and they left me alive because I make him suffer. But we got the last laugh on them, ’cause we’re alive.”

“Actually, you’re both dead.”

“I’m philosophizing, here. Don’t confuse me with facts. So, yeah, maybe our lives suck -- ”

“Thanks a lot,” Connor muttered.

Spike fluttered his eyelashes. “Present ray of sunshine excepted. The point is, they may suck, but they’re still ours. So you gotta ask yourself -- what do you wanna do with yours?”

Connor looked at his hands, as if he would find the answer in his palms. Finally he said, “I wanna take care of my family. Like my dad did.”

“Well, then,” Spike reached out and pushed a piece of hair back behind Connor’s ear. “Start spreadin’ the news.”

*

Connor stood in the lobby of the Hyperion, showing Spike the places where he grew up.

“That’s where I came through the portal,” he said. “And that’s where I first tried to kill Angel.”

“First time I tried was in a hotel, too.”

“No way!”

“Way. Royal London, if memory serves.”

Angel glowered at them. “You both sucked pretty hard at it, ’cause…” he held out his arms, “still here.” He grinned at Spike. “Though Connor put up a better fight than you.”

Spike huffed. “Daddy’s pet.”

Connor picked up his bag. “I should get going,” he said. “Gotta meet my other family at the compound.” He walked up to Angel and kissed him chastely on the lips, then put his arms around him. Angel held on tight, and for a moment considered never letting go.

Connor pulled away, but Angel kept a hand on the back of his neck. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

Connor looked around the hotel. “In my father’s house, there are many rooms,” he said.

“And I go to prepare a place for you,” Angel finished.

Connor smiled and ducked his head. “You had to send me to an Irish Catholic family, didn’t you? Eight years of Sunday School. I should kill you for that alone.”

Angel laughed and cuffed him lightly.

Connor turned to Spike, and kissed him full on the mouth. Longer than Angel would have liked.

“Take care of him,” Connor said. Spike just nodded.

“I’ll keep in touch,” he said, heading for the door. “I promise.” Then he was gone.

Angel and Spike stood in the lobby for a few moments, watching the door swing behind him. Neither of them spoke.

“You have reconciled with your offspring.” They both jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Fuck, Blue, will you stop sneakin’ up on us like that?”

Illyria raised her chin. “I am pleased you have returned.” She nodded at Angel. “This one has been intolerable since your departure.”

A leer spread across Spike’s face, and Angel had never been so happy to see it. It felt a little like home.

“Yeah, well, broody pants here just needed a little R&R. I’m gonna give him plenty more where that came from.” He nodded at a glass case on the floor next to Illyria’s feet. “Whatchya got there?”

“I have acquired a new collection to replace the one you destroyed.” She picked up the case to reveal a pair of butterflies trapped inside. She fixed an icy gaze on Spike. “Do not be so careless with this one as you were with the last.”

“Yeah, well, that was Angel’s fault. Long as I can keep him from poundin’ on me, we should be right.”

Illyria considered this. “There is little chance of that.” She turned to Angel. “Do not fling Spike around these rooms any longer.”

Angel folded his arms. “You first, lady.”

“Now, now, kiddies. Play nice for Uncle Spike.” Illyria glared at them, then set the case back down on the floor. “You know, Blue, it takes more than two specimens to make a collection.”

“There are more in the upper levels of this jungle. I will show you.”

Spike headed up the stairs after her. He threw a wink over his shoulder at Angel. “You can fling me around your rooms later.”

Angel waited until they were out of sight, then picked up the case and carried it into the garden. He sat on the bench, breathing in the scent of jasmine and the new flowers that Illyria had planted. He brought the case up to eye level, so he could examine the butterflies more closely.

Ulysses. They were beautiful, a breed he’d seen decades ago in the rainforests of Australia. Their wings were as luminous as stained glass in an ancient cathedral: brilliant blue edged by leaden black, so vivid they seemed to glow from within. The hapless insects flung themselves unwittingly against the walls of their cage, colliding with the invisible glass.

Angel set the case down on the bench next to him and opened the little door. A warm wind picked up, blowing a draft of air into the small enclosure. One butterfly caught the breeze and flew out into the garden. Angel waited to see if the other would follow. But it settled quietly on the floor of the case, folding its wings together.

Angel closed the door softly on the butterfly’s home, then smiled at the night sky as he watched its companion flutter away.

END

EDIT: There are three follow-up pieces to this fic:

Memory Shines Like Teeth and Moonlight (co-written with kita0610), a PWP Spike/Angel interlude. It was written as a role-play fic, so be careful not to trip over the switching POVs.

Prometheus Unbound, in which the vamprires learn to be (slightly) less emotionally stunted.

Fragments in Hard Voyages, in which Buffy arrives in L.A. and vampire loyalties are tested.

Thanks for reading. :)