The father will kill the son.
Those words had burned a permanent place into his mind. They had haunted his waking hours and ridiculed him in his dreams. No sentence had chilled him more; that and the dreadful choice that had to be made because of their very existence. He had taken action to ensure that this would not come to pass, but this was not the result that he had anticipated.
He would have laughed, had he the energy and a throat to make the sound, at how dispassionately he was analyzing the situation. It was as if his emotions had drained from him along with his life's blood, the guilt and the remorse and the anger at the universe for forcing such a situation upon them, all now seeping into the grass below him.
Earthquake, fire, blood. All of the signs had come to pass as the Loa had predicted, just as it had confirmed what would come to pass if Wesley did not stop it. "That the vampire will devour his child is certain" were its words. The images flashed across his eyes as Wesley gazed out into the Los Angeles night. The cranky hamburger looming above him, making its pronouncement of doom. How the Hyperion shook in the quake as he and Angel had spoken of his love for his son - Wesley had momentarily thought his concerns to be ridiculous, that is, until the floor began to move. The fire that sprung up almost immediately. The blood dripping down onto Connor's own blanket from the cut on Angel's head.
The prophecy, the commentaries on the prophecy, the Loa's declarations... Everything he encountered pointed to the same conclusion. If circumstances had continued as they were, Connor would surely have died.
This could not be. Therefore, Wesley had sought to save Angel's son. In doing so, he would have spared Angel from committing an act for which he would have never forgiven himself. Wesley was willing to sacrifice his friendship with Angel to stop this. He could not allow such an act to burden Angel's soul. Losing the people he saw as family was the price that had to be paid. At some point in the future, he would have sent word that Connor was safe. He would explain, at least in part, why he chose this course of action. A failed course of action.
Apart from the slash that felt like a line of coals across his neck, his body was growing increasingly numb as his mind continued to replay bits of recent days. In the midst of it all, he heard Fred's voice. It was as if his mind had created the sounds to soothe him.
"We gotta find his diaries."
"We gotta find him." That was Gunn's voice as well. Together, of course. Even the tricks played by his fading mind tortured Wesley. The voices crept into his ears again. "I think if he was answerin' his cell phone, he would've the first forty times you called."
"You telling me to quit trying? Sorry."
"Don't be. And keep trying."
A part of him dared to hope that they were looking for him, and that these voices were not delusions of some sort. But it could not be. And even if it were, he had not the strength to stand or wave his arm as he heard a truck's engine. Justine's blade had caused both his strength and voice to depart.
In these past few days, there had been moments in which he had considered confiding in Fred and Gunn regarding the contents of the Troclon prophecy. But, after those moments, he always remembered observing the first true happiness on Fred's face that he had witnessed since their first meeting in Pylea. He simply could not bring himself to interfere with that. It seemed that Gunn made her happy in a way he himself did not and now never would. He did not like how much bitterness this caused in him. Fred and Gunn's relationship was in its infancy, full of silly optimism about the future. He would not draw them into what was ultimately a betrayal of Angel, even if it was for the best of reasons.
The father will kill the son.
Holtz knew of the prophecy - granted, he believed that Connor was in danger simply by being in Angel's care, prophecy or no, but he was aware of the dilemma he faced. He was a misguided, vengeful fanatic and the sworn enemy of Angel, but Wesley believed him to have honor... after a fashion. From his description of the weight of his son's coffin, Wesley believed that, at least in part, the life of this child, any human child, had value to Holtz. His voice came floating up into his consciousness of their recent conversation. "Well, your problem isn't me right now. Your problem is, your friend is going to kill his own child. You know you have to do something about it. You know if you don't, I will. Don't misunderstand me. I won't stand by while an innocent child is murdered - but I won't attack and endanger other innocent lives unless I'm forced to."
The choice was clear: remove Connor from the imminent threat, or allow Holtz to remove that threat, causing casualties on both sides. As much as despised the position he was in, there was only one acceptable choice, albeit barely so.
He had made it as far as leaving his own apartment when Justine stumbled toward him. Her performance in the park, which was all too convincing, was merely a ploy to steal the baby, but why? He did not know Justine's reasons for stealing Connor and leaving him to die, but, to be sure, it was not her doing alone. She followed Holtz, so the orders had to have come from him. He wanted Connor alive, but for reasons that were unfathomable. If he had wished the child dead, he could have done so in any number of ways, not the least of which would have been not warning Wesley to remove the child. Unless...
Of course. It was part of Holtz's revenge on Angel. Angelus had taken away his family, so Holtz just returned the favor. He was human enough to not murder the "innocent child" of Angel and, in this way, would regain the status of fatherhood that had been brutally ripped away by Angelus. And Wesley had not seen that. He cursed his own stupidity.
The surge of emotion and self-recrimination made his head swim. As he faded back into unconsciousness, he did not know if it would be for the last time.
***
The dew had made his clothes damp, and the chill of the March wind blew across the wound on his neck, cooling the blood. He had not yet died for his miscalculation. No matter. This, he felt, would be rectified shortly.
Wesley considered how he might have avoided his current plight. He could not have involved Fred, and he did not wish to involve Gunn, either. Angel, of course, would have vehemently denied any possibility of his hurting his son in any way.
Perhaps he could have spoken to Cordelia. She, of all of them, was the only one who truly understood the depths Angel was able to sink. She had known him longer than any of them and would see that action was necessary. However, Wesley was loathe to disturb her first vacation in years and shatter her precious time away with the Groosalugg, now that they had been reunited.
He had not wished to inflict this sort of sacrifice on anyone.
Wesley's intention was to raise Connor as his own. In this, he would not fail Angel. He did not know how to be a father, only how not to be one, as his father had taught those lessons all too well by his own actions. He had hoped that what little knowledge he did possess would be enough, Now, he would never know if it would have been.
Wesley heard a rustling nearby. Could it be Fred, or perhaps Gunn? By now, Lorne would have either been discovered or have awakened on his own. He deeply regretted the necessity of hurting the Host, but it was necessary. Wesley had erred by singing the lullaby in his presence, knowing full well that Lorne would not have understood. He would have involved the others, delaying the situation long enough to allow Holtz to take action against them. He could not allow that.
Footsteps approached him. "Bro... Bro, you alive?" An unfamiliar voice asked the question as a man rolled his inert body to face the sky. He could not even move his eyes to get a measure of the man.
“You need help. Can you talk? Muggers, bastards... They leave you any I.D.?" Wesley felt the man fumble for his wallet, wherein he would find his cache of travel funds. Concentrating, he raised he hand as much as he was able to show that he was not yet a corpse.
It didn't take the man long to find the hidden treasure. "Wasn't no muggin'," murmured the man. He did not return wallet to his pocket, despite Wesley's hand being barely raised to entreat otherwise. Instead, the man dragged him by his jacket behind nearby bushes.
The sudden motion caused renewed pain to radiate out from his throat. It was too much. The night sky faded back into complete blackness along with the shuffles of the man's retreat.
***
Wesley awoke in a hospital bed, already bandaged. Sterile light filled the room. It now seemed unlikely that he would die. Not today, at any rate. No doubt the man who had stolen his wallet had placed a call to the authorities. It was, he reflected, the least he could do in exchange for the bounty that he had harvested. The ambulance had found him where he had been dragged. Soon after doctor had informed him that there was damage to his trachea, but he would recover and likely speak again. He had lost a great deal of blood, and the doctor advised rest.
The door had opened to admit Fred and Gunn, both with obvious relief on their faces. He feared for a worse reaction from them, but they seemed primarily relieved to see him alive. They told him that Sahjahn, the demon working with Holtz, had been neutralized, and that there was much to discuss that they had learned, but his doctor asked them to wait outside the room, advising rest in order to let him heal. Before they left, they revealed the worst of their news.
Connor was gone. He had been taken by Holtz through a rip in the fabric of reality to a dimension known as Quor-toth. Wesley had only vaguely heard of this dimension, and none of it was positive. According to what Fred explained, it was a move of desperation on Holtz's part. However, the child still lived. Connor now belonged to Holtz, but he was outside the reach of the individual destined to kill him. Angel could not reach him. A crushing blow to them all, but, in the end, it was also a small victory.
Fred did not seem angry at him - neither of them did - which was a relief. They both did seem... guarded. They did not ask him why, likely because they knew he was currently unable to answer them. But there was also much not being said, as well as much that was delayed by the doctor's emptying of his room. But, now that the deed had been done, he could eventually make to clear to them the contents of the hated prophecy. It would explain everything.
They promised to wait just outside until his doctor cleared him for visitors, but there was an unease to their stance. It was as if they did not know what to say. Wesley understood this. They did not have all of the facts. He thought that he saw uncertainty tinged with fear in their eyes, especially when they mentioned that Angel now knew where he was.
However, once Angel knew the facts, he would understand. They had been through a great deal together. Angel knew that he would never act against the greater good. True, there were a very many emotions involved, but the Angel he knew, the one he had fought side by side with since his arrival in Los Angeles, would not hurt him. He would never choose revenge over forgiveness.
He thought he heard Angel's voice outside the closed door, speaking with Fred and Gunn. Moments later, Wesley heard the door open. He slowly opened his eyes to meet the gaze of the man whose son he had stolen. Angel's face was blank. After what he had been through, it was understandable. It had been a difficult day for them all.
"Hey, Wes. I just... I want you to know I understand why you did it. I know about the prophecies, and I know how hard it must have been for you to... do what you did. You thought I was going to turn evil and kill my son. I didn't turn into Angelus. It's important to me that you know that. This isn't Angelus talking to you. It's me. Angel. You know that, right?"
Wesley knew.
"Good. That's good..."
The sudden jerk of the pillow under his head and Angel's rage took Wesley completely by surprise. Angel pressed it on his face, extinguishing precious light and air an instant later.
"You took my son! YOU TOOK MY SON!"
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