“Would you like a soda or something?”
Connor nodded cautiously.
“You liked . . . or at least I think you liked, grape soda.”
“The purple stuff,” Connor nodded.
“Yeah.”
Connor smiled as Colleen Reilly sat the can of Welch’s grape soda in front of him. She sat next to her husband.
“How is this . . . possible,” Laurence asked. “I remember . . . I remember what you’re talking about. You living here. Being my son.”
“Do you have a son?” Connor asked.
Colleen nodded. “We had a son. He . . . he was named Connor, too. He was killed in a car accident about a month before you came here. At least I think it was a month. I . . .” She lowered her head and began weeping, unable to continue.
“Why would . . .” Colleen began weeping again. “Why would someone give us our son back just to taker him away again?”
Laurence put a consoling arm around his wife.
“Do you remember Wolfram & Hart?” Connor asked. “The law firm?”
Laurence nodded. “I remember.”
“The man who ran it, Angel. He’s my father. He . . . he wanted to give me a happy life, so he sent me to you. He kind of brainwashed us to make us think we were a family.”
“Without giving a damn what it would do to us,” Laurence said coldly.
“He’s selfish.”
“Why did he take you away?” Colleen asked. Connor could tell that she almost longed for the lie that Angel had created.
“He broke the deal that made it possible for me to be here. Like I said, he’s selfish.”
Colleen lowered her head and continued crying uncontrollably. Laurence put a hand on her back and rubbed it softly. “We should probably sell this place,” he said, mostly to himself. “Three people don’t need a house this big.”
Connor shrugged. “Angel had a hotel with hundreds of rooms. But no more than six people ever lived there at one time.”
Laurence smiled appreciatively at the boy’s odd attempt to comfort his faux father.
*
Connor stepped outside into the crisp mountain air. He’d only just walked out of the yard when he caught a familiar scent.
“Hey, kid,” the husky female voice said.
“I’m not a kid,” Connor said bitterly, turning to face her. “My father send you?”
“The slayers,” Faith answered. “Your dad’s with us, but he figured you’d want to see me more.”
Connor turned and started to walk away from her.
“Got a proposition for ya,” she said. He turned and looked back. Faith continued. “I know you kind of have the hots for me. And why wouldn’t you?” She put her arms out and pushed her chest forward. “I mean, check me out. Believe it or not, sex with you would probably be slightly less of a pain in the ass than beating the shit out of you and dragging you in. So what do you say, kid? Be a good little boy and come home with me and . . . well, you can come home with me.”
“Women,” Connor said bitterly. “You only want to have sex when you want something from someone.”
“Way of the world, kid. Wish I could tell you it was flowers and romance and love. But it’s all about getting what you want. You give me what I want, you coming back with me, and I’ll give you what you want; sixteen minutes of pleasure with me. If you can hold out that long. I offer no refunds for premature ejaculation.”
“What if I don’t want you?”
Faith stepped forward so that she was face-to-face with Connor. “Come on, kid. You can have fun or you can have a concussion. It’s up to you.”
Connor started to pull away, but Faith grabbed his arm. “Remember how it worked the last time we tangled,” Faith said.
“Let me go. This is your last chance.”
“My last chance?” Faith laughed. “Bull shit. Your last chance.”
Connor pulled away. Faith lunged forward and tried to put Connor in a Full Nelson; a wrestling move that restrains the upper body. But Connor was too quick. He ducked out from under her and she toppled to the ground. Rolling to her feet, she came up to face Connor, who was circling her like a predator around a particularly difficult quarry.
Faith tilted to remain facing Connor as he stalked around her. The look on his face was different from the last time they fought. Faith had to grant that, were she the kind of fighter that felt fear, she’d feel it now.
Luckily, Faith was the kind of warrior who didn’t fear. She fought. She would win or lose. If she won, she’d be happy. If she lost, she wouldn’t be alive to beat herself up about it. Either way, no big.
“You sure you want to do this?” Faith asked.
“I don’t want to do it. But keep me from leaving and I will.”
“Connor, you’ve hurt people. We need to talk to you about that. We can help you.”
“How?” Connor snarled, throwing a punch that Faith dodged. “Therapy? More tough love from Angel? I just want to be left alone.”
Faith threw two punches that Connor blocked. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not? You killed people and they leave you alone.”
“I’m doing my best to make amends. I turned myself in to the cops. Went to jail. You’re better off with the slayers and Angel than you are doing that.”
Faith jumped forward and threw a punch. Connor ducked away and tried to sweep her legs out from under her. Faith hopped over the leg sweep and threw a kick. Connor caught the kick and tried to twist her leg to break it. Faith pulled her leg away, planted it, and threw a spin kick with the other leg. Connor ducked the kick and knocked the leg she’d planted out from under her.
Faith tumbled to the ground and rolled backward. She was back on her feet before Connor came down with a drop kick. Faith managed to back away and avoid having his foot crush into her upper chest. Connor came down hard and looked slightly shaken. He’d expected to hit soft flesh, not hard asphalt. Faith lunged forward and threw a hard downward punch, like an uppercut in reverse. Connor grabbed her fist and used her momentum to throw her over his back and onto the ground behind her.
Faith hit the ground hard. It felt like being body slammed onto cement. In fact, it was being body slammed onto cement. Knowing she had to move quickly, she ignored the pain, hopped to her feet, and braced for a punch that never came. Faith looked around. Connor was nowhere to be seen.
“Shit,” she said, angry at herself. She wasn’t sure if it was for letting him go, underestimating his fighting skills, or not having better reasons to come back with her. She was too sure that either Plan A (bribing him with sex) or Plan B (beating his ass) would work that she never thought past that. She’d even told the slayers to forego backup. She’d been too cocky and she knew it.
*
“Willow already told me about when she did a memory spell,” Angel said angrily. “You forgave her. Why am I different?”
“You think it’s just . . . I can’t even talk to you!” Buffy yelled.
“Yes, I recall you saying that. But you’re going to talk to me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I owe you nothing anymore, Angel. Nothing.”
Buffy regretted saying it the instant she saw the look on his face. She wanted to hurt him, emotionally speaking, until she’d succeeded in doing just that. “I didn’t mean that the way I . . .” She sat at the conference table and put her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I meant.”
Angel sat next to her and put a hand on her back. “Tell me everything you’re feeling,” Angel said. I want to hear.”
“You had a child and you didn’t even tell me. That hurt. It hurts more that you had it with someone else. I’d always . . . I knew it wasn’t possible, but . . . I’d always hoped we would some day. Have children.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Angel started uncomfortably, then fell silent. “Connor wasn’t planned. Well, actually, he was. But he wasn’t planned by me and . . . and his mother.”
“Who was she? The mother. God, please don’t tell me it was Cordy.”
“Darla,” Angel said quietly. “She came back. She became a vampire. I became despondent and I . . . I slept with her.”
Buffy waited for it to wash over her. She waited for it to not hurt. But with each second, the pain didn’t lessen. Instead, it became worse.
“Darla!” Buffy shouted, standing and grabbing a chair. “You slept with Darla! How could you Angel?! How could you?”
“Says the woman who slept with the Immortal. After all he did to me!”
“I obviously didn’t know your history with the Immortal!” Buffy shouted back.
“But you knew my history with Spike. And you knew he had no soul. Yet you slept with him!”
“I told you about that time in my life. How dare you judge me?!”
“I don’t! You’re the one judging me. The fact is, the men you choose to give yourself to now hurt me. But it’s none of my business.”
Buffy scowled bitterly. “I give myself to no one. I have me. No one else does.”
“Faith,” Angel said, looking up as the brunette slayer came into the room. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” She shook her head, disappointed in herself for letting Angel down. “He got away.”
“I thought you said you could handle him?” Buffy said, taking her frustration out on the other slayer.
“He was harder to handle than I remembered.”
“I’m not surprised,” Angel said. “The circumstances are so different. If he survived Quar’Toth, he must know how to survive when he thinks his life is on the line. We’ve never really seen that. I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself. Now we just have to figure out how to find him.”
“Found him,” Dawn said as she came into the conference room. “Actually, Andrew did. Again.”
“How?” Buffy asked, disbelievingly.
“Police scanners. Connor just turned himself in to the police. He’s being extradited to L.A.”
“We have to get him back,” Angel said. “Can Andrew find out the path of the prison transport?”
“Angel,” Buffy said, hesitant to interfere where Angel’s child was concerned. “He has broken the law. Technically, we have no mandate to break him out.”
“I have a mandate. He’s my son. And he’s confused. He didn’t grow up here and he doesn’t understand how things work. Prison won’t help him. He’s like a caged animal already. Put him in prison with people who’ll try to hurt him and he’ll . . .”
“He’ll kill them,” Faith answered. “He won’t be able to restrain himself like I did.” She looked at Buffy. “Angel’s right. We have to get him out.”
Buffy drummed her fingers nervously. “The Central Council is me, Faith, Giles, Dawn, Kennedy, Xander, and Willow. We decided when we set the new council up, we’d vote on these things.”
“I don’t have time to have you discuss this in a committee when my son’s life hangs in the balance!”
“You can try to get him yourself,” Buffy said. “We won’t try to stop you. But if you want our help, you have to respect our procedures.”
“When did you ever care about procedures?” Angel yelled. “You broke any rule that ever got in your way.”
“It’s the best I can offer,” Buffy said coldly.
*
“So let me get this straight,” the detective said as he flew on the prison transport plane with Connor. “You didn’t kill the girl. You just dragged her to the woman that did?”
Connor nodded. He was looking at the ground, unable to make eye contact. A cell phone rang and another detective answered. “Right,” he said. “Thanks.” He looked to the first detective. “LAPD says they had a teenage girl killed where he said and how he said. The confession’s legit.”
“Why’d you do this again?” the first detective asked.
“Cordelia, the woman who did it, she was carrying my baby. She said she needed the blood of the girl so our baby could be safe.”
“And where’s this Cordelia?” the detective asked.
“I think she’s dead. I remember being told that. But it’s hazy.”
“Convenient,” the detective saying. “Having a dead scapegoat. How’d you lose track of the mother of your child anyway?”
Connor shrugged. He knew they wouldn’t believe the rest. As odd as it was, he thought they’d understand what he’d told them perfectly. Demon possession, magic, virgin sacrifice. It seemed all too commonplace to Connor.
*
“Four to three,” Buffy said as she came out of the conference room. “We’re going to get your son.”
Angel nodded bitterly, angry that this much time had been wasted. “Thanks,” he said, despite not feeling very thankful.
“Andrew’s been working on a plan while we debated. Hopefully it’s ready.”
“Looks like we’re doing a prison break,” Dawn said as she came back from talking with Andrew. “Apparently, the police extradited Connor in record time. He’s already in L.A.”
Angel looked distraught. He began pacing irritably.
“We’re calling Riley,” Dawn said. “We’ll need to catch him up on the whole history. Hopefully, he can help.”
*
Cash was a two hundred and forty pound guy with tattoos all over his body. The second that the skinny, slightly effeminate looking Connor was shoved into his cell, Cash felt aroused.
“So,” Cash said, as he stood to greet his new roommate. “You wanna be the husband or the wife?”
Connor looked at the man oddly. The question didn’t make sense to Connor. Husbands were men, as were both of them. Connor shrugged. “Husband, I guess.”
Cash laughed. “Okay, husband. Get on your on knees and suck your wife’s cock.”
“What?”
“I ain’t fucking around!” Cash shouted, grabbing Connor by the hair and dragging him toward the bed.
Connor yanked free and shoved Cash back.
“Stupid bitch. I was going to let you go with a blow job for your first day. But you need to learn how shit works here. So I guess I’m going to break in that sweet ass of yours tonight instead of tomorrow morning.”
“If you touch me again, I’ll hurt you,” Connor said with a homicidal glint in his eyes.
“Like you could, you scrawny little slut.”
Cash grabbed Connor and Connor head-butted him. A loud snap indicated the breaking of Cash’s nose as blood poured down onto his upper lip. Connor kneed Cash in the groin and Cash hit the ground, doubled over in pain.
Cash rolled onto his stomach and tried to push himself up, but Connor stomped on his left arm, breaking it at the elbow. Connor then kicked Cash in the side, breaking two of the goon’s ribs. Finally, Connor pulled the man to his feet by the head and slammed him into the wall of the cell. Another loud crack sounded out and Cash, now with a fractured skull, slumped to the ground unconscious.
“Reilly!” a guard shouted. “What the hell’s happening in there?”
“He fell down.”
“Happens,” the guard laughed, imagining the scrawny guy in front of him kicking the crap out of tattooed, muscular bully Cash. “Put your hands through the bars. You have visitors.”
Connor stuck his hands through the bars and the guard cuffed them. A complicated set of directions were given and followed. A moment later, Connor left the cell in leg irons and hand cuffs.
Connor sat at the table in the visiting room and looked at the guard questioningly. He didn’t think this was the right desk. He’d expected to see Angel, not a middle aged woman.
“Hello?” Connor said when he picked up the phone.
“You’re Connor Reilly?” the woman asked, her eyes filled with tears.
“Angel,” he said. “My name is Connor Angel.”
“But you’re the one who killed Bree Lineburg,” she clarified.
“Who?”
“The police said you confessed to killing my daughter in a warehouse in Los Angeles.”
Connor’s blood ran cold. “I . . . someone else killed her. I brought her there.”
“You brought her there to be killed,” the woman said sadly.
Connor looked down, unable to make eye contact with her. He nodded.
“Look at me,” she said angrily. “You’ve taken everything from me. The least you can do is look me in the eyes and you tell me what you did.”
Connor looked up at her. “I took her there to be killed.”
“Why?” the woman whimpered.
“My girlfriend was pregnant. She needed the blood of a virgin to protect my child.”
“A virgin?” the woman cried. “She was . . . she was more than just that, you know. She worked with autistic children. She brought food to elderly people who couldn’t leave their homes. She’s all I’ve had since my husband died. She was . . . she was an angel.”
Connor was crying now. Part of the woman found some satisfaction in that. Another part of her was disappointed. It was a part of her that wanted and expected Connor to be evil incarnate; a remorseless monster who took joy in the destruction of the good and innocent and righteous. Instead, he was a disturbed kid who’d obviously felt his own share of victimization. It made what she would do next all the more unsatisfying.
“The D.A. is asking me if I want him to ask for the death penalty. And I hope God can forgive you, you son of a bitch. Because I never will. Never!”
Mrs. Lineburg slammed the phone back onto its hook and stormed away from the table.
Connor was lead back to his cell. The cuffs and leg irons were removed and Connor sat on the bottom bunk of the bunk beds in the cell. He had it to himself as Cash was in the hospital wing explaining how he’d fallen from the top bunk.
Connor stood and walked to the wall. He punched it hard, smashing pieces of it out of the wall.
“The fuck’s goin’ on over there?” a voice from the next cell called.
Connor picked up a jagged piece of the smashed cement. Connor had studied physiology; demon and human. He knew how to do this perfectly. He jabbed the sharp cement slab into his wrist and dragged it along the vein, ripping it open. He weakly gripped the shard with his bleeding hand and repeated the procedure on his other arm.
As he slumped to the floor, Connor knew that they probably wouldn’t find him before he bled to death. Even if they did, they probably wouldn’t want to save him. And even if they wanted to save him, they’d never sew his veins shut in time.
*
Buffy sat in the motel room, waiting for a way to think of a way of explaining it.
Giles put a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “My contact was the one who told us. Perhaps I should-”
“No,” Buffy said calmly. “I should be the one. I just don’t know-”
“There’s no way to say it that won’t be . . .wrong. This should never happen. It isn’t the natural order of the world.”
Buffy nodded. She stood and headed it the door. She knocked on the door of the room next to her.
“Come in,” Angel called. He looked up when Buffy entered. “Hey,” he said, still slightly angry despite being grateful for her help. “It’s almost nighttime. I think we should hit the prison as soon as possible. God knows what trouble Connor will get himself into in a zoo like that.”
“Angel, sit down,” Buffy said weakly, already beginning to cry.
“Don’t tell me we’re not going. I’ll go alone if I have to.”
“We just got a phone call,” Buffy said, struggling to breathe. “About an hour after he got to the prison, Connor cut his wrists with a shiv or something.”
“What? What happened? Is he okay?”
Buffy began crying. She didn’t imagine it would feel this bad. Not long ago, she’d considered the possibility that Connor would have to be killed. Now, that thought seemed inconceivable.
“Angel,” she wept. “Connor’s dead.”
Trivia
The name of the girl Connor kidnapped in “Inside Out” was taken from the actress’s last name (Lineburg) and the first name of the character she played in the Eliza Dushku film City by the Sea (Bree).
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