Angel, Season 6: 6.04: The Way We Were
by filmtheory
A/N: Switches between third person (in the lounge) and first person from Lorne’s perspective (everywhere else).

“Memmmmm-ories,” Lorne sang soulfully, pausing for dramatic effect. “Like the corners of my mind. Misty water-color memories. Of the way we were.”

He looked out into the empty lounge at the Hyperion Hotel. “That’s right Crazy Cats!” he said enthusiastically. “It’s story time again. It’s the story about a boy and a girl. Well, actually two boys and a girl. A father and a son, both in love with the same woman. And let’s not forget the father’s first girlfriend. So I guess that makes two guys and two girls, which sounds a lot more even than it should. You know what? It’s probably easier if I just tell the story.”

Lorne’s Story

“It’s Cordelia!” Fred said in her perky little Fredikens voice. “She’s awake.”

Angel stood up and began pacing.

“You don’t look very happy,” Wes said, looking at Angel curiously.

“No,” Angel said. “It’s just . . . are we sure . . .”

“She’s not evil?” Fred said, completing Angel’s thought. Then she put the big guy at ease. Of course the first thing I did when Cordy woke up was have her dust off those pipes and belt out her own very unique version of “Sweet Dreams Are Made of This.” It was Cordy alright, bad singing, beautiful soul, and all.

“You still don’t look excited,” Wesley said.

“No, I’m ecstatic,” Angel said in a voice that was anything but. Fred and Wes gave him the as if glare. Finally, the big guy spilled.

“Buffy. What do I . . . what do I tell her?”

“That you moved on,” Wesley said. “As she has. And with Spike, no less.”

“Okay, Wes,” Angel said angrily. “I get the point.”

“Actually,” Fred giggled. “If his name’s Spike, I guess Buffy’s the one who got the point so to speak.” Angel and Wes gave her in ill-humored look. “Last dirty joke I ever make,” she said sullenly.

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea,” Angel said. He looked back to Wesley. “Not to mention . . .” he nodded toward the bed. “I thought I’d have more time to . . . I mean, I can’t leave him here.”

Wes nodded in understanding. “But taking him home to you and Cordelia could only complicate matters.”

“We can’t leave him here alone,” Fred said.

“I tend to agree,” Wesley said.

No surprise there. Everyone who’s seen them knows Wesley’s had a crush on Fred since he first laid eyes on her. She could have said “I think we should set Connor on fire and leave him to rot” and Wes would’ve agreed. Then again, I probably would’ve agreed, too. Any plan that involved setting that brat on fire would’ve been okay by me.

“I think Connor’s abandonment issues are the root of many of his problems,” Wesley explained. “He feels he’s been abandoned, neglected, or lied to by everyone he’s ever known. Leaving him alone amongst strangers wouldn’t be the best course of action.”

Angel nodded. Privately he thought that Connor didn’t just feel he’d been neglected, lied to, and abandoned. Connor had been neglected, lied to, and abandoned. Angel thought back to when his son first returned. He’d been angry and violent. But Angel had goofed around with him in an alley. Connor had smiled and laughed.

“It’s good to know you can do that, too,” Angel had told Connor. When he came from Quar’Toth, Connor could still smile and laugh and play.

Angel sat down and put his head in his hands. “What did we do to him?”

Wesley and Fred stood quietly, unable to speak. They’d both added to this, though to very different degrees.

Fred put her hand on Angel’s shoulder. “We’ll get him back, Angel.” Fred, the eternal optimist. It’s why we love her. “Soon . . . soon, we’ll all be back to the way we were.”

The Lounge

Lorne stepped away from the mic and mixed another Sea Breeze. “Gotta love the bar tender here,” he said. “He knows just how I like ‘em.” He took a puff from a cigarette and coughed wildly. “Curse Faith for getting me back on these things. Then again, every now and then Our Lady of the Sea Breeze needs a little help from the Marlboro Man. Or, in this case, Capri. I’ve come a long way, baby.”

Lorne turned back to his imaginary audience. “Anyway, Fred was hitting on a wish we’ve all had now and the, am I right, kids? That desire to go back to the way we were- to those misty color memories in our mind. But it’s like Babs says. Can it be that it was all so simple then?” Lorne sang. Or has time re-written every line?”

Lorne sat. “I mean, let’s face it. Things between Angel and Connor or Angel and Cordy or, hell, Angel and anyone were never all that simple. Speaking of Angel and his complicated relations . . .”

Lorne’s Story

“How, how, how did . . . how?” Buffy asked.

Angel had sent Fred and Wesley to get Gunn. Wes’ SUV and Angel’s Mustang had been destroyed when Sunnydale collapsed, so the three of them were out renting a car while Angel wrapped up a few loose ends.

“I’ll explain it later,” Angel said. “The point is, she came back.” We’re talking about Darla here, kids. Angel-cakes hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet. “She was human and she was sick, so I did this . . . this thing--”

“You did a thing with Darla?” Buffy asked annoyed.

“No!” Angel protested angrily. “Well . . . not at that exact moment, but- hey, you know what? Coming from a girl who had sex with Spike multiple times, I’m not- can I just explain?”

“Then explain!”

“It’s a long story, but . . . but he’s my son.”

“Darla?” Buffy asked.

“No, not Darla!” Angel groaned. He nodded toward the bed. “Connor. He was born of two vampires fifteen months ago and grew up in a hell dimension.”

“Ouch,” Buffy said. “As if just one of those wouldn’t cause enough issues to keep a hospital full of shrinks employed for life.”

“I’m taking him home. But things . . . they’ve been . . .” Angel gripped Buffy’s arms and stared into her eyes. “If something happens to me--”

“Don’t you dare ask me,” Buffy said. “You don’t have to ask. I’d never let anyone you cared about, let alone your son, be left alone.”

They hugged. They kissed. They talked for an hour. But none of that’s important to our story right now.

Wes snagged enough sedatives to keep Angel Jr. down for the ride home. And when they got home, it was one big happy reunion. Mostly.

“Cordy!” Fred yelled as she ran through the doors of the Hyperion and hugged Cordelia. Gunn and Wesley came in behind her looking equally excited. Then, Angel carried in his unconscious hell spawn with his standard vampire scowl.

“Don’t look so excited,” Gunn said.

“Oh my god, Connor!” Cordelia said, breaking loose from Fred and running to Angel. Even after all that’d happen, Cordy still had a soft spot for the kid. Ewww. I didn’t mean that in a dirty way, you perverts.

“I need to get him downstairs,” Angel said.

“Downstairs?” Cordy asked.

“That’s where we built the cell.”

“Cell?” Cordy said angrily. “You’re not locking him in a cell.”

At this point, I stepped in. “Cordelia, honey, there’ve been a few things that have happened since you’ve been gone.”

“I remember everything that happened while . . .” Cordy looked at Angel. “I remember. And from what I remember, stuffing Connor in a cage is the last thing he needs right now.”

“Cordy--” Angel started.

“Angel,” Cordelia shot back. “Remember when you went to see Holtz and I told you not to lie to your son, but you did anyway?”

“Yeah,” Angel mumbled.

“And do you remember how that worked out?”

“Yeah,” Angel repeated in the same mumbling tone.

“So,” Cordy said smugly, hands on her hips. “Who will we be listening to?”

Angel looked at Gunn. “I’m taking him to Suite 200. Can you move some of his stuff in there?”

“Good plan,” Cordy said.

The Lounge

“We ordered Cordy takeout from an obnoxiously expensive restaurant,” Lorne explained. “She loved it! Then there was catching up on old times and what Cordelia did and did not remember. Apparently the time she spent on the higher plane was all a blank. Which is actually good news for me. The last thing I need is some pretty girl with visions and a better idea of people’s destinies than I have. I mean, I’d be out of business toots sweet.”

Lorne took a sip and a puff. “So, anyway . . .

Lorne’s Story

Cordelia sat with Angel on the fountain in the courtyard.

“So,” Cordelia said with a slight grin. “Here we are. Back to the way we were.”

“Not really,” Angel said. “I’m wondering if we ever will be.”

Cordelia looked up to the window of Connor’s room and sighed. “We should probably talk to him separately. About things.” She looked at Angel. “About us.”

“What do we tell him? About us.”

“I don’t’ know. That we love each other?”

Angel smiled and sighed. He’d been waiting for that. And can you blame him?

Cordelia continued, happy with Angel’s reaction. “That we love him, too, but . . . but in a different way. And that we’re sorry for all the things that have let him down, but he has to own up to the things he did, too.”

Angel took Cordy’s hand and held it gently. “Thank you, Cordy. For coming back. For being you. For everything.”

Cordelia smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Meanwhile, inside, another conversation about the good old days wasn’t going quite as well.

“So it takes Gwen and me getting it on to make you realize what you missed?” Gunn shouted angrily.

“What are you talking about?” Fred said. “When did I ever not appreciate you?”

“How about every time you looked to Wesley for answers instead of me?”

“Charles, Wesley has expertise in things you don’t. That doesn’t mean I appreciate him more. It doesn’t even mean I appreciate his expertise more than yours. It just means I recognize you’re different.”

“You kissed him, Fred!” Gunn shouted angrily.

“He kissed me,” Fred shouted back. “And I was about to tell him he shouldn’t do that when you came in and went all cave man on him.”

“That’s bull shit, Fred!” Gunn yelled. “I saw your face. You looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. And you know things haven’t been right since-”

“Yeah, I do know things haven’t been right!” Fred yelled back. “But that’s the problem. I’m willing to work to make them right again. You just want to give up.”

“I didn’t give up,” Gunn said in a quiet and sad voice. “I did work at it. But you just kept growing further and further away. And that’s when I knew, Fred. We ain’t never going to be the way we were.”

“Nobody ever gets to be the way they were. We just gotta pick up and move on from where we are. Don’t you think there’s a million things I want to take back? A million things that I wish were just a bad dream. But there’s no going back in time. Well, actually, I guess Connor came back in time to warn us about Wolfram & Hart, but other than that there’s usually not a going back in time.”

Fred flopped into a chair. “I don’t even know what I want. And I know we can’t just make everything right between us in one night. But just promise me Charles. Whatever happens, we’ll still be friends.”

Gunn moved closer to Fred and bent down so he could look into her cute little face. “I think I can make that promise,” he said with a smile.

Anyway, this is about the time Wes found me unconscious on the second floor. Long story.

“Angel! Gunn!” Wes called from the top of the stairs. “Come quick!”

“Get Angel,” Gunn told Fred as he bolted for the stairs. Fred headed outside to get the big guy.

Everyone came rushing to my rescue, which gave me quite a warm fuzzy feeling once I woke up.

“What is it?” Angel asked as he arrived just a second after Gunn. He looked down to see me lying in the fetal position and crying outside room 206. Like I said, long story.

“Who did this?” Gunn asked.

“Connor,” Wesley said. “He’s missing.”

Angel stepped into the room to see an empty bed and an open window.

“I knew you should have caged him up,” Gunn said. “Now go downstairs and give Cordy the I-told-you-so.”

“I don’t think he did this to Lorne,” Angel said.

“Angel--” Wesley began in a sympathetic but incredulous tone. You know the one I mean.

“What, Wes?” Angel snapped back. “He woke up from the sedative, busted his restraints, came out into the hall and walked down three doors to knockout Lorne without leaving a bruise on him, then went back to his room to sneak out the window?”

About this time, I started forming coherent sentences. “He didn’t,” I managed. “Well, he did, but not on purpose. Long story.” (I’m nothing if not consistent). “Point is, our boy is out there.”

“Our boy?” Gunn asked incredulously. It must have been tough for him to hear me say that. I’d been his only firm ally in the Connor is evil or at the very least a tremendous pain in the seat of the pants camp.

“Long story,” I repeated. (What part of “long story” did they not get? Sheesh.) “Angel, you need to get him and quick. He’s headed for Hollywood Blvd. The bad part.”

“Why would Connor go there?” Wesley asked. “Vamps usually steer clear of there.”

“All those pimps and drug dealers cramping their style,” Gunn joked.

“Bingo,” I said. “I don’t know why he’s heading there, but the pimps and drug dealers are why you better get to him fast.”

“Connor can handle himself,” Angel said.

“Against the dealers, yes,” I said. “Against what they’re dealing, not so much.”

***

I don’t know what it is about the dodgy part of Hollywood Blvd. that attracts people who feel marginalized or forgotten, but the place is like a beacon. When you’re lost in L.A.- lost in the spiritual sense, that is- all roads lead to the red light district.

“Hey there, Junior,” a woman called to Connor. “You old enough to be out this late?”

“You old enough to have a hundred dollars is what I want to know,” another called. “Because if you are, I’ve got an hour to spend with you.”

Connor continued walking uncomfortably. The neon lights flashed off his pale skin, making him seem to glow. His footfalls crushed the litter on the sidewalk, making a sound akin to stepping on snow covered ground. It was appropriate. This place was the emotional equivalent of a frozen tundra. If Connor couldn’t stay in hell itself, then he wanted to be in a place that was hell on earth.

He fidgeted uncomfortably as he walked. He kept his head down and his hands in his pocket. Then he realized he should be ready for anything, so he held his head high and kept his hands out of his pocket and balled into fists. Then he’d make eye contact with someone and it’d be back to hands in the pocket, eyes on the sidewalk.

Connor didn’t know where he was going until . . .

“Hey, kid,” a man said. “Come here.”

Connor looked at the man. He was about 45 and overweight. He looked disgusting, sitting on a stool in front of a club. “What do you want?” Connor asked.

“See this place,” he nodded toward the establishment behind him. By establishment, I mean sex shop complete with peep shows and prostitutes. “I run it. Got a nice business. People willing to do things for money. You know what I mean by do things, right?”

Connor nodded. “But I don’t have any money,” he said, preparing to move on.

“Really?” the man asked. “From your fine attire, I figured you to be a Rockefeller.” The man laughed and lit a cheap cigar. “I know you don’t have any money. I was thinking you could make some.”

“How?”

The man grinned lecherously. “Doing things,” he laughed.

Connor looked at the man oddly. “Girls pay for that?”

The man laughed again. “Not really.”

Connor stared at him a moment longer as he worked through what the man was proposing. He turned and started walking away.

“Be sure to come back when you get desperate enough,” the man called. “Where do you think you’re going, bitch?” the man said to someone else in a lower voice.

“My shift’s over, Harry,” a girl’s voice responded.

Connor froze as he heard the sounds of a slap and someone hitting the ground. “You’re shift’s over when you can pay me what you owe me.”

“I’ve been on for sixteen hours,” the girl whined. “I’m sore. Just let me go- aghhh!”

“Let you go what?” Harry shouted. “Shoot up with my shit while I sit here jerking off? You work ‘til you’re paid up you stupid whore! You- ouch! What the--”

Harry shoved the girl to the ground and kicked her in the stomach. He looked up to see Connor coming. “Already changed your--”

Connor punched him in the nose, breaking it. Harry fell backward off his stool and hit the ground. Connor glanced at the girl, a pretty and petite 21-year old blonde, cowering on the ground. She was far too pretty and petite for this part of town or this line of work, but this isn’t her story, so I’ll move on.

“Marcus!” Harry called. “We gotta-”

Marcus ran outside and almost laughed to see a stick-thin boy standing over Harry. The laughter didn’t last long. He was unconscious in an instant. Without looking back, Connor threw his elbow back, nailing the 240-pound bodybuilder in the eye.

Harry crawled backward. Connor pushed the stool out of the way and walked toward the man. Connor walked up to Harry’s head. The fat man stopped crawling and stared up at Connor in terror. Connor raised his foot and slammed it down on Harry’s neck. The fat man groaned and began thrashing wildly.

Connor quickly stripped the man of his coat and looked at the girl. She stared at Connor with a mixture of horror and gratitude. She reached out and grabbed Connor’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “We gotta go.”

***

“The bouncer, guy called Marcus, says he hasn’t seen anyone like that,” Gunn said.

“Doesn’t make any sense,” Angel said. “His scent is strongest here. He stayed here a while.”

“Considering the type of establishment,” Wesley offered, “they may just want to avoid trouble.”

“Why are you assuming there’s trouble just because my son’s involved?” Angel asked, clearly annoyed at the inference.

“The street is covered with litter. The alley’s even more so. But this alleyway,” Wes said, stepping to where Connor had cracked Harry’s windpipe and left him to die. “This alley is clean.”

“Because someone cleaned it up,” Gunn said.

“The trail goes dead at a bus stop,” Angel said. “I have no idea where he went. I have no idea what line he took.”

“Listen,” Gunn said. “I know some people that still hang in this area. I’ll hit the street with Connor’s picture. See if I can track him down.”

The Lounge

Lorne was jolted from his story by the sound of clapping.

“You scared the bejesus out of me!” Lorne complained.

“Sorry,” Angel said. “But I thought you deserved some love for the show.”

“I can always count on you to make with the love,” Lorne said, downing the rest of his drink. “How long have you been listening?”

“From That’s right Crazy Cats! It’s story time again.” Angel stepped toward the stage. “You do this often?”

“Every now and then,” Lorne said, stepping off the stage. “Helps assuage my longing for show business.”

“One part of the story I was hoping for,” Angel said. “What happened before Wesley found you in the hall.”

Lorne sat down at a table and put his head in his hands. “I think I need another cigarette.”

Angel sat at the table with Lorne and handed him a pack of Marlboro Menthols.

“Connor was singing,” Lorne said as he took a cigarette. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to read him. It just came. And I saw it. That place where he grew up. Where he was going. All of it. And all I could do was lay down on the floor and cry.”

“Did you see anything that could help me find him?”

“Maybe I can give you a description of the girls he went off with.” He looked down a minute. “I . . . I wish I could give you good news. But this kid’s not done putting you through the ringer yet. He’s got a lot more heartache to bring you. And even when it’s over, I can’t promise you two will make up and be best pals.”

“Did you see anything good when you read him?”

Lorne downed his drink and stood up. “It’s going to be a long bumpy road for him. But when that’s over, your son’s destiny is to be like his father. He’ll be a champion.”

Without another word, Lorne left the lounge and headed for bed.

***

Across town, Connor was sitting nervously on the couch of a blonde stripper, prostitute, and junky named Naomi. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him to her. Perhaps it was memories of Sunny. Perhaps it was just that her being where he was meant they were both lost, even if for different reasons. They talked on the bus. Connor held back certain details of his life. Naomi never specified the nature of her stepfather’s “abuse,” but Connor was fairly sure he understood.

Connor worked meticulously. He’d been skeptical of Naomi’s advice, but the promise of solace was overwhelming. He could see a kind of peace in her eyes and he wanted to feel what she felt.

“Like that?” he asked like a pupil to a teacher.

“Exactly like that,” Naomi said with a giggle. “You’re a natural, kid.”

Connor sunk the needle into the vein and pressed the plunger slowly and deliberately. The immediate sensation was one of itching and stinging. He pulled the needle out and set it on the table.

“Wow,” he whispered. Connor’s eyes glazed over as he slipped into his heroin-induced daze. He knew ultimately there would be a price for this solace. There was always a price. But for the moment, he leaned back in the couch and managed to experience something that was almost happiness.

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