~*~

Connor was out wandering. Then again, when wasn't he? He couldn't stand being in the hotel. Wesley and Gunn were standoffish, Fred tried to be friendly but just came off as false, Faith patronized him as if he were five, and Lorne largely ignored him. Unless he was with Cordy in her - *their* room, he was patrolling. Alone.

But even being with Cordy...it just rubbed him the wrong way. There was something going on; she wasn't acting like herself. As much as he would love to ignore it, and pretend that one day they would be the happy family they promised, he knew it was impossible. Angel would come back, and he would sweep Cordy off her feet, and all would be as it was before. Except this time, he would have the memory of their time together. And she, he suspected, once they found out what was going on with her and set it right, would never know that it even existed.

Did he love Cordelia? He wasn't so sure anymore. He had thought he did, at one time. When she depended on him, trusted him above even his father. Then, he had loved her. But now, he looked at Faith and he felt...a stirring of some sort. Better than the worry clenching at his gut when he lay with Cordy. He felt that stirring and he thought maybe he was never truly in love with her at all. Maybe it was just the pride of getting a one-up on his vampire father that had felt so deceivingly good.

The trick, however, was not to let Cordy in on what was going on inside his head. Last week, he had gone a bit overboard, babbling a mile a minute about the brunette Slayer. Cordy had exploded, throwing a glass at him that had narrowly missed his head and chasing him out of the room. When he had deemed it safe to return, she had apologized profusely, blaming it on pregnancy hormones as always, then had pulled him into a kiss meant to make him forget.

But he hadn't forgotten. The incident had stuck in the back of his mind to the point where every time he looked at her, the fear from that night at the look in her eyes returned.

And that had been his first clue that something was seriously wrong.

Oh, sure, there had been other signs - Connor had just chosen to ignore them. So, he supposed, this was somewhat his fault, in that he should have told the others long before the situation escalated the way it did. Because he had this funny feeling that Cordy's...condition, both physical and mental, was somehow connected to the recent chain of events.

But for now, he was just going to carry on as he had been for the past month or so, because he honestly didn't know what else to do.

When it came to Cordy, everything else just sort of became bottom priority. He tended to get clumsy, and forgetful, and everything else typical of a first crush - even now, with how things were going. Which is probably why he didn't see the hulking vampire who stepped into his path as he ambled down the dark streets of L.A. Consequently, he went plowing into said vampire's chest, and it was only after he had regained hid footing that he realized it was Angelus who had him by the arms. Connor swore under his breath.

"Tsk, tsk," Angelus reprimanded him. "Haven't I taught you better, *son*?" He emphasized the last word with a grin; a cynical grin that didn't quite make it to his eyes.

"What do you want?" Connor demanded. Angelus chuckled.

"What do I *want*? Well, that's an open-ended question. A few nice, ripe young girls...virgins, preferably. A place by the ocean...one of those new GTO convertibles would be nice. And...oh, yeah. World domination."

"World domination," Connor repeated. "And how does killing me fit into the plan for world domination?"

"*Killing* you?" Angelus chuckled again. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of *killing* you, son. I want to thank you." He swung an arm around Connor's shoulders as if they were best buddies. Connor suppressed a shudder.

"For what?" he choked out.

"For taking care of my girl, of course," Angelus said jovially. His grip around Connor's neck, so that he was practically dragging him along as he walked. But this was it for Connor. He shoved Angelus away, backing down the street away from his father.

"She's not your girl," he stated coldly. Angelus practically cackled, advancing on the teenager.

"Well, well, well. Look at you. All puffed-up and manly," he sneered. "Protecting what's not really yours."

"She *is* mine," Connor insisted vehemently. Angel or Angelus, despite recent events, he was not going to let him - or anyone - take Cordelia away from him. And maybe that was stubborn, and certainly stupid, but so be it; he was too stuck in his ways to let go now.

Angelus' voice turned sinister. "She belongs to no one," he growled. "You think you know what's coming? Because she's let you believe that you'll be a nice, happy little family someday? You, me, and baby makes three - that kind of thing? You have no idea. You're just a pawn, boy. Get used to it." With that, Angelus shoved him to the ground. When Connor looked up, he was alone in the deserted alleyway.

~*~

With a sigh, Welsey set down the book he had been flipping through and glanced at Fred, sitting across from him a similar book resting in her lap, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

"Any luck?" Wes asked. Fred sighed.

"No," she admitted, removing the glasses. For a short moment, Wesley was struck by the gesture, fearing she would clean them. But she simply laid them on the table, massaging her temples.

"What do you say to a little break?" Wesley said. Not waiting for her answer, he stood and moved to the back of the office where the coffee machine sat brewing a pot of tea. He and Fred were the only ones who ever drank tea; the others had their own industrial-sized pot set up behind the front counter.

Even the scent of the tea was calming. Wesley poured two cups of Earl Grey and carried them back to his desk, setting one down in front of Fred. He remained standing behind her as he sipped it, until she spun her chair around to face him, blowing on her own tea.

Wesley drew up another chair, so that he was sitting facing her again, but without the desk in between them. They were silent for a few moments, but after all, this was Fred, and the silence didn't last long.

"I just can't believe all this," she murmured. "I keep thinking about last year, on Cordy's birthday, when we all went to Caritas. Connor was just a baby. You and Gunn got up on the stage and sang together. Lorne baked a cake in the shape of a crown. A princess crown. And Angel smeared frosting all over Cordy's face. I don't think we stopped laughing even once that whole night."

"Times change," Wesley reminded her gently. This time, the silence was longer. No longer wanting her drink, Fred sat the cup on the desk and stood, walking over to the calendar that hung on the back wall. A gag gift to Angel last Christmas - yet another reminder of the way things used to be - it featured the world's most famous churches and cathedrals. Smiling faintly, Fred traced a crucifix on the pictured alter. Her finger then trailed down to a heavily-decorated square, a date in the near future - only a about three weeks away.

"It's coming up again," she said. "What are we planning on doing this year? The man she loves is a demon, she slept with his son, she got hit with a crossbow arrow, and she hasn't been out of her room in weeks."

Wesley, too, stood, coming up behind Fred's tiny frame, his hands on her shoulders.

"Things will get better," he promised. She made a sound that was not quite a laugh.

"When?"

He reached over her shoulder and flipped the calendar one month forward. The first was circled, the words "Fred's B-Day" printed neatly within the square in Angel's familiar handwriting.

"By this day," Wesley declared. "By this day, everything will be back to the way it's supposed to be. You are going to have the biggest, best birthday party we can possibly give you. I promise."

Fred turned, looking up at him with wide, shining eyes and a smile brighter than sunshine.

"Thank you," she said softly. Leaning forward, she hugged him. Wesley enveloped her tiny body in his arms and let a smile of his own play across his lips. One of his hands slid under her hair to stroke the back of her neck in a purely possessive manner. She was here, she was his, and things could only get better.

~*~

"What time are they supposed to get here?" Gunn questioned, just as Faith delivered a well-aimed kick to his chest. He stumbled backwards, coughing breathlessly. With him out of commission for the moment, the dark-headed Slayer checked her watch.

"Any minute now," she said. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Gunn quickly regained his breath and dove at her ankles, knocking her over. Faith swore as her head hit the tile.

"Careful, kids." Lorne cautioned in a bored tone from his position on the couch, a safe distance away from the sparring pair, flipping through a magazine with a glass of brandy in one hand.

Faith slipped out of Gunn's hold as if she were slicked with oil. In retaliation for the lump that was already beginning to form on the back of her head, she slammed him face-down to the linoleum. He flailed his legs and caught her knee, knocking her down again. The pair were still grappling when the door to the Hyperion opened. Faith looked up (Gunn was unable to do so, being in a headlock at the moment). There stood Buffy in the entranceway, flanked by Willow, Xander, Anya, Spike, Giles, and an assortment of young girls she could only assume were the Potentials.

"Yo, B," Faith called cheerfully. "Long time no see. Great timing, by the way - Gunn here is getting his ass kicked."

"Oh no you don't," Gunn protested as Faith let him up. "I was just about to break loose."

"Of course you were, babe," Faith tossed over her shoulder as she approached the group of new arrivals. "Well, don't just stand there!" she exclaimed. "Come on in. Hey, Kermit go tell Wes and Fred the gang's all here." This last comment was directed at Lorne, who just smiled good-naturedly. Upon seeing him, the Potentials began poking one another and whispering. Their journey into the real, gritty world had finally begun.

Faith regarded the group with barely concealed amusement. One glance at them and she could figure out nearly everything that was going on behind the scenes. Nothing had changed since high school - they still all wore their hearts on their sleeves and sported expressions so clear they might as well have been telegrams.

Willow had quite obviously hooked up with one of the Potentials. Not that she was trying to hide it - they were holding hands and giggling and whispering in each other's ears. Xander and Anya were slowly working towards something - every time their eyes accidentally met, they would blush and look away. Buffy was a different story - by the way she and Spike kept looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes, she suspected that her fellow Slayer had found herself another vampire. Dawn, thrilled by the prospect of Buffy and Spike, had wedged herself between the two and kept looking back and forth from one to the other. And in the background was Giles, oblivious as ever, while the Potentials gossiped. It was fascinating, really, to watch as an outsider.

Faith smothered a grin. Mix this drama with all that was going on at the Hyperion and it was looking to be one hell of a apocalypse.