Set: During Loyalty, Angel S3. The unseen scene.

Summary: Wes has seen the prophecy. Angel has taken Connor to the doctor. Wes comes along as Connor's self-appointed bodyguard. How wrong can one person be?

Style: General / humour

Rating: PG, probably.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will.


Mrs Ferguson went back to the waiting room with her son. She'd wanted to catch the other mother in there but she had gone, no doubt to her appointment. Sitting there instead was another young mother. Talk naturally turned to feeding patterns.

The consulting room door opened and the two men she'd seen earlier returned. The taller one with the baby, the one who had shared the vacuum idea (which she had suggested to the other mother) looked as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders. His more lightly built, slightly stubbly companion still looked strained and weary.

"I told you he'd be alright." said the one with the stubble, quietly, trying to meet the other man's eyes and surprising the women with his accent. The effort was wasted; his companion had eyes only for the child.

"I wasn't worried," he said, breezily, then, to the baby, "- was I then, little man?"

Mrs Ferguson saw one of the Englishman's eyebrows flicker briefly.

"What worries me is a certain law firm. They'll try and take him away again."

"Then they'll fail." said the Englishman, in the same reassuringly quiet, authoritative voice. "Again."

"I know Connor's safe with us, I just-"

"Want him to be well. I understand that, I - I'll never be in your position but I do have two nieces."

"You do? How come I didn't know?"

"Because I never talk about them."

Mrs Ferguson caught his tone of voice.

"I can't do this, Wes. I love him so much - just the thought that he might . . . y'know, when I thought he was . . . ."

"Angel, listen to me." He cast around, looking for inspiration and his eyes met Mrs Ferguson's. A hint of a smile flashed in his eyes. "You're Mr. Dad, don't forget."

"I am." He smiled at the baby, who gurgled contentedly at him. "I'm Mr. Dad."

She flashed Wes a sympathetic smile. He rolled his eyes, stepped in front of Mr. Dad and opened the door for him.

"We should go before Fred eats all the doughnuts. I'll bring the car round."

As the door swung shut, Mrs Ferguson smiled. They were both cute. And the child was gorgeous. Their obvious shared trust and concern for the baby and Mr. Dad's last audible sentence before the doors had swung shut ('We have doughnuts?') had touched her. She made a mental note to be nicer to her next-door neighbours.

These alternative families still had it hard.