Angel felt the pillow beneath his head first.

As the golden light faded, Angel realized that he was lying in bed - the bed from his suite at the Hyperion. He wore only a pair of boxer shorts, and the device lay on the mattress right next to him. His vampire's senses told him it was just past dawn.

Blinking in the darkness - even vampire eyes took a moment to adjust - Angel began doing some calculations. He knew that he was in a time before his months in the box under the ocean, but after their reclamation of the Hyperion Hotel. That didn't narrow it down too much, but soon he could collect a few more clues.

And then he heard the baby.

Angel whispered, "Connor?"

He sat up straight, staring toward the crib - and he knew which direction to look, because he still woke from sleep to look for it, years later, despite himself. But there it was - Connor's crib, with Connor inside it, pudgy fists waving in the air. He wasn't crying, just cooing to himself, soft little sounds of baby happiness that Angel had never thought to hear again.

Tears filled Angel's eyes, and he didn't bother to check them. He just got to his feet, went to the crib and picked up his son - the baby he'd never thought to see or hold again.

How had Connor ever been so tiny? These little hands - these little feet -

Overcome, Angel cuddled Connor close, breathing in the soft scent of him and rocking him back and forth. Connor's fingers splayed against Angel's chest, teeny fingernails scraping him lightly.

"Daddy's here," Angel whispered. "Daddy's here. And I'm never going to let you go. Never ever. Not this time."

His knees felt watery, and Angel sat on the side of the bed to steady them both. Connor, apparently well-contented with this arrangement, quieted and began breathing in and out more deeply, falling asleep in his father's arms.

I was never supposed to be here again, Angel thought, dazed with happiness and gratitude. This was lost forever.

Even one more hour - one more minute - to hold his baby in his arms was an unimaginable blessing. Angel realized, only now, that Chip had not simply cast him aside with a tool to right certain wrongs; Angel had been given a gift of such infinite promise, such potential joy, that it humbled him past words.

Thankfully, he didn't need words for his son.

This time it will all go better, Angel promised his son and himself. This time it won't all get screwed up beyond imagination. This time I won't lose you, not ever, not ever again.

**

When he and Connor both got up, Angel was in fine spirits and ready for a brand-new day - whatever day this might be. "Good morning!" he called as he headed downstairs, Connor in one arm.

"It's 1 p.m., chickadee." Lorne was sitting behind the front counter reading a Judith Krantz novel. "Not exactly morning in this time zone. But for you undead types, it's bright and early, so at least you're in the spirit of the thing."

"Just happy to start all over again," Angel said. "Isn't that right, Connor?" Connor gave him the rumpled baby frown that meant it was time to make up a bottle, and fast.

"Look who's on cloud nine!" Lorne studied him for a moment, an odd look on his face. "Listen, I gotta say, you're taking this like a champ. Most men would be a little more mopeful, when their shelia was off doing the comshuk with somebody else."

Comshuk? Oh. Groo. Angel readjusted his mental time clock, zeroing in a little more. "Groo won't be around forever," he replied as he headed toward the all-important fridge with formula. "Besides, as long as I've got my main guy, everything's all right."

Cordelia was alive, and herself. He hadn't just gotten another chance to be Connor's dad; he had another chance to make a life with Cordelia, and to keep her safe. The happiness in his heart redoubled, so dazzling that Angel quickly reminded himself to think of some bad memories and bring it down a notch. A couple trips through the trenches he made in World War I brought his mood down to acceptably happy levels.

"That's rather sanguine of you, no pun intended." Lorne put his book aside and leaned conspiratorially close as Angel walked up with Connor and bottle in hand. "Listen, call me crazy, but have you noticed Fred and Gunn acting a little, you know, glow-ish around each other? She was humming a little yesterday, but she stopped before I could get anything out of it."

Groo meant this was after the ballet. "Those two? They've paired off. They're probably making out right now, wherever they are."

"No kidding! Well, score one for Cupid. They told you this?"

"No," Angel said, because technically they never had. "I just - know."

"Look who's learning how to trust his intuition! I'm pleased as peaches. This goes down as yet another testimonial for my late-night infomercial when I finally become a life coach."

"Peaches are pleased?" Angel never had quite understood Lorne. But then Wesley came through the door - completely casual, obviously fully at home at Angel Investigations, as he once had been and, Angel decided, always would be. He smiled. "Welcome back, Wes."

"Ah. Yes. Angel. Hello!" Wesley's smile was uneasy. "And you've got Connor - he's eating - right. I've got some research to do." He ducked into the back office without another word.

Lorne clucked his tongue. "You think he's taking the Fred-Gunn love-o-rama pretty hard?"

"Yes," Angel replied, staring at the closed office door. Wesley had been so awkward, so uncertain. Nothing had happened between them yet, so why was he -

Oh, God. The prophecy.

Wesley believed that Angel would kill his son. He didn't yet know that the prophecy wasn't true - even now, maybe, he was talking to Holtz and making the plans that would turn all their lives to ruin.

Angel's first impulse was to take Connor and run - just run, through the sewers if need be, away from Wesley and Los Angeles and even the United States, to hide him as far from Holtz as it took to keep him safe. It wouldn't just save his son from a terrible childhood; it would also save Wesley infinite misery, and Cordelia's life, and the emergence of the Beast - countless miracles could flow from this one moment.

But that might or might not work. If Wesley was determined to find him, he would; Angel knew enough about Wesley's capabilities to be sure of this. Holtz couldn't be underestimated either. And Sahjahn was already on the loose. No, he had to stay here and resolve this, but how?

First of all, he would need an ally.

"Lorne," Angel said, "You've got the contact number Cordelia left, right?"

"Right."

"Give it to me." He remembered now that he had purposely not let himself see it, for fear that he would call and say something stupid; after Connor's abduction, he had refused to call and inflict his pain on her one moment before it became necessary.

In other words, he'd screwed up. Not this time.

"You sure you want to do this?" Lorne's green face was clearly skeptical. "You were a lot more laid-back about it just a couple seconds ago -"

"Trust me on this." It would help, during his phone call, to be able to concentrate. Hating to do it, Angel slowly held Connor out to Lorne. "And take care of the little guy for just a few seconds, okay?"

"I had style, I had flair, I was there - that's how I became the nanny," Lorne sighed, taking Connor and bottle. Connor kept nursing, oblivious to anything but food.

**

The receiver clattered, and Angel heard a heavy bash against the plastic. He was alarmed in the split second before he heard: "What yowling beast dares disturb the rest of my princess?"

Then, in the distance: "Groo, it's a PHONE, will you chill?"

And that was Cordelia - really Cordelia. Angel smiled despite himself.

"Hello?"

"Cordy. It's Angel. Hi."

"Oh, hey, Angel!" How could her voice sound so wonderful. "I didn't expect to hear from you."

"I didn't expect to call. But I need your help." Angel said the next words carefully, remembering both future and past. "I need you back."

Cordelia was quiet, and he could tell just from the silence that she had sensed his mood. "Is there trouble?"

"Not yet. But there could be. I don't want to get into it over the phone."

She hesitated a moment longer. "Groo and I - you know we're -"

Oh, to hell with beating around the bush. "You two are together, and I'm sure you're having a really great time. But, Cordy, you don't love him. You - I - well, you know, or you probably know, and, and - and the sooner we stop lying to ourselves about it, the better."

"Angel?"

He smiled, looking up at the ceiling. He hated saying this kind of thing, but this time, dammit, he was going to get it out somehow. "We keep doing this crazy dance - this denial thing - and maybe you're better at it than I am - but it doesn't make any sense. You have to make every moment count, Cordelia. We didn't do that."

"You're asking me to come back -" The quality of the sound changed, as though she had cupped her hands around the phone, before she whispered, "-because you're - you feel - that maybe you're in -"

"No. I mean, yes, I'm -" Time to just say it and get it out there. "I'm in love with you, but that's not why I called." Angel glanced back out at the lobby, where his son was still a baby waiting for his daddy - for now. "I called because I'm in trouble, and I think Connor might be in danger, and you're the only person who can help me. The love part - we can deal with that later. But I need to take care of Connor now."

"I'm on my way," Cordelia said, hanging up before he could speak another word.

He spent that afternoon in suspense. It was difficult to act normally around Wesley; more than once, Angel considered sitting Wesley down and simply explaining to him. What was the technical term for telling someone they had a prophecy ass-backwards? Angel knew he could figure something out.

But what he hadn't counted on was his own reaction. Angel had long since learned to consider the terrible events of Connor's kidnapping a kind of tragic accident; everyone involved did horrible things, more horrible because they all rose from love instead of hate. It was all very clear in the rear-view mirror.

Now, though, he could look at it again; this time, he could see it unfolding, and it made Angel angry almost past the point of self-control. At this moment - even as they stood on opposite sides of the room from each other - Wesley was plotting to steal Connor, to take him away forever. At this moment, Wesley could ask Angel how he was doing, or tell Angel that they needed to work together to keep Connor safe. They had every choice, every option, every chance --

Instead, Wesley remained on the far side of the room, making small talk, watching Angel's hands, and saying nothing.

You don't trust me, Angel thought, vampire rage simmering deep within him as looked at Wesley. Maybe you'd be smart not to trust me all the time. But with Connor? You didn't even trust me with my own son?

Whenever the anger threatened to overcome him, Angel would look down at his son. Then the fury went to some other place, and he could just revel in the delight of having Connor back again. It was all he could ask for in life - holding out a finger for Connor's tiny fist to grab, or just watching his eyelids close as he fell asleep.

Still, it was not a moment too soon when Cordelia ran through the door.

"Where's Angel?" she cried, before turning and seeing Angel on the stairs. "Oh. Right. That was a little melodramatic, huh?"

"Works for me," Angel said. He smiled down at her, caught up in the sight of Cordelia, alive and well. Her hair was dark again - he must have reached her just before the salon - and her smile was more the smile he remembered: young and happy, if not quite carefree.

"Cordelia?" Wesley set aside his books, startled. Angel hadn't bothered mentioning that Cordy would be coming back, because explaining why would be complicated. "I - well - welcome back. Where is the Groosalugg?"

"He's on his own for a while," she said slowly. As her eyes met Angel's, he could see her confusion - why was Wes acting so casual? - and then her comprehension, understanding that Angel hadn't told Wesley anything yet. "I think Angel and I have some stuff to talk over."

"Definitely," Angel said. "Why don't we - I mean, do you want to go upstairs?"

"Sure." Cordelia set down her bags and started up after him. Wesley stood at the foot of the stairs, the light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses so that Angel couldn't see his eyes. "I'll give you your souvenir later!" she called to Wesley.

"Splendid," Wesley said, and Angel wondered if the others could hear the darkness within his voice.

No sooner had Angel closed his door behind him and Cordelia than she said, "Angel, if you said Connor was in trouble as some kind of half-assed seduction attempt -"

"He's really in trouble," Angel said, setting the drowsy Connor back down in his crib. For once, Connor seemed willing to go down for a nap without a fight. Taking Cordelia's elbow, he steered her into the bedroom area of the suite, where they could talk without disturbing the baby. "Also? My seduction attempts are never half-assed. You'll see what I mean."

Cordelia's cheeks flushed pink enough that he could see it even beneath her new suntan. "Angel - you and me - we're friends. I know that night at the ballet was kind of hot - okay, very very very hot - but do you really think we're -"

Angel took her shoulders in his hands and kissed her. She breathed in a startled gasp, but Angel just kissed her harder, took advantage of her open mouth to slip his tongue inside. Within an instant, her arms were around his neck as she kissed him back, deep and sweet and slow.

When their mouths finally parted, she whispered, "Okay, you might be onto something with this whole 'love' deal."

"Thought so," Angel murmured. The temptation to keep on kissing her was powerful; only his fear for Connor kept him focused. "I promise you - we're going to explore this, at length -"

"I remember from the ballet."

"-later. Right now, I need you to help me keep Connor safe."

"You keep saying that." Cordelia sighed in frustration as Angel let her go to walk nearer Connor's crib. It was hard for him to even let his son out of his sight. "But now that I've turned both my vacation plans and my love life upside down in the past two hours, I think it's past time for you to give me a few details here. Has Holtz tried something else?"

"It's not Holtz I'm worried about. It's Wesley."

Cordelia sat very still as Angel explained the best he could; a few of the details were fuzzy, this many years after he'd first experienced them. Her face was almost motionless with shock, though she grimaced with disgust when Angel revealed that Wolfram & Hart had been lacing his blood supply with Connor's own blood.

"I stopped drinking that stuff the second I got back - I mean, the second I realized. I don't think they'd done it for very long; I've got my control again, I promise you."

"Are you sure? Angel, if that baby's in any danger -"

"I would walk away. I promise you." Angel wondered if he could have made that promise with so much certainty if he hadn't actually done so before - in a future that, hopefully, would never reoccur. "Wesley obviously isn't listening to me right now. He's already started talking to Holtz. I can't convince him, but maybe you could."

"How am I supposed to convince him that the prophecy's wrong? What I know about ancient prophecies would fit inside Fred's bra."

"Just convince him to come and talk to me. If he thinks that you and I are willing to work with him, Wes won't feel like he has to turn to Holtz. At least, I hope not."

She folded her arms. "And what if he doesn't, Angel? Are we gonna fight Wesley?" The way she said it made it clear that she thought she was being ridiculous - not describing the way things might actually go.

"That won't happen," Angel said, willing himself to believe it. "Worst-case scenario - we'll leave. You and me and Connor, we'll pack up in the car and drive. We could get pretty far from Holtz, and I think we could hide for a good, long time."

"Holtz will never stop looking for you. Which means he'll never stop looking for Connor-"

"We just have to hide for a while. Long enough for Wesley to realize the prophecy's false, anyway. After that, we can beat Holtz together."

"And we have cash," Cordelia added. "Left over from the vacation fund -" Her voice trailed off, and her voice was softer as she said, "You gave me money to go away with Groo."

Had he? Oh, right. "Yeah."

"Even though you were - are - in love with me, you let me go."

"I wanted you to be happy," Angel said. "I still want that. But, Cordy - maybe we could be happy together."

She took his hand in hers, her touch soft - but then she frowned. "Not TOO happy."

Angel kissed her forehead gently. "I've learned ways to work around that."

"Oh, really?" That was definitely hope he heard.

"Really and truly. I'll prove it to you." And that was a promise.

Cordelia looked as though she might demand proof immediately - not an unwelcome scenario, Angel decided - but then she let go of his hand and straightened up. "I have to think about this. And I have talk to Wesley. Okay. You hang out here with the little guy, all right?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," Angel said, moving back toward his son's crib as she went out the door.

"This is the craziest day of my life," Cordelia said. Angel only wished that were true.

**

The next hour was spent watching his son sleep. Angel had appreciated the joy of something so simple the first time around, but it was even more precious now.

As he gazed down at Connor's chubby face, he tried to picture Connor's teenage features; the eyes were the same, but the rest was difficult to see. Maybe it was because Angel had so often seen Connor as angry or desperate, never relaxed in total peace and happiness as he was now.

It's going to be better this time, he promised his sleeping son. You aren't going to grow up in Quartoth, and you're going to have your old man with you, not Holtz. You'll go to a real school, and you'll play hockey, and I will come to every single one of your piano recitals if it kills me.

A quiet rap on the door made Connor twitch once before settling back to sleep. Rather than call out, Angel got up and answered it, expecting to find Cordy there again. She was there - but Angel hadn't expected to see Wesley there too, his face grave. "Angel - we should talk."

NOW you say so, Angel thought, but there was no point in getting angry about the past - no, about something that could have happened, but now wouldn't. "Yeah. Good plan."

"Tell ya what," Cordelia said, pushing past them to walk into the suite. "I'll take Connor downstairs. Give you guys a chance to chat."

"He's sleeping-" Angel said, but Cordelia already had the baby in her arms. Connor was still fast asleep; she was the only one of them who had ever been able to pick him up without awakening him.

"Seriously, you two should talk. I'll take care of him, all right?" She was already in the hallway again.

"Thanks, Cordy." Angel shut the door behind her, leaving him and Wesley alone.

"You might've told me yourself," Wesley said. "That you knew."

"I could say the same thing."

Wesley breathed out, not quite a sigh. "If you'd learnt that you were drinking Connor's blood - good God, Angel, why didn't you tell anyone? We needed to know that Holtz was working with Wolfram & Hart, regardless of anything I might have learned. Your silence helped turn me into - into his collaborator."

Angel wanted to protest that he hadn't known the first time - but, of course, that would involve telling Wesley that he had leaped backwards in time in the first place. Then he wondered: Why not? Before, he had kept the device secret more out of instinct than anything else. Now perhaps it would be better to just share -

--that they'd been enemies, that they'd been suckered by Wolfram & Hart, that Cordelia and Fred and Wes himself had been doomed by all their mistakes -

--no. The device, nestled in his pants pocket for safekeeping, would be better left a secret.

"I was ashamed," Angel lied. "Not to have recognized it right away. To have done something so awful to my own son - without even knowing."

The lie worked. Wesley relaxed slightly, and his hand brushed against Angel's arm. "I only meant to protect Connor. I want you to know that."

"I do." And why had it taken him so long to see it? "But we can do that better together than alone."

For a few minutes, they discussed what Wesley had believed, and when, and why. Angel did his best to remember what he'd said two years ago, or a day ago, depending on who you were asking. If he had to bluff his way through the conversation, apparently he covered well enough.

At last, Wesley straightened up. "The prophecies are downstairs. If you've figured out what's true and what's false in the writings, clarification would be helpful."

"Let's go," Angel said, as the two of them left the suite. Already it felt as though an enormous weight had lifted from him. Now he and Wesley would never part ways. Connor would never be stolen. And instead of losing Cordelia before he'd ever found her, he could finally find out if they'd be able to love each other. "Cordy?"

"Cordelia?" Wesley echoed as they began going downstairs. "All's well." Then, with a laugh: "You can stop hiding now."

Angel looked at the counter. Connor's car seat was gone. In its place was a note. "Oh, no."

He ran the rest of the way, Wesley close behind him. Although Angel was the one who picked up the piece of paper, he and Wesley read it together:

Angel,

If you've been drinking human blood again, you're not in control. I remember what you're like when you're not in control - and as much as I love you (there, I said it), I know that you'd want me to protect Connor first of all. Wesley's weird secretive thing isn't the way to go, obviously, so if you two are deep in strangeness, it's going to be up to me.

I've got Connor, and plenty of cash, and Holtz will never guess where I'm going. I'll call! Lots! Don't be mad. We're all going to be okay now.

When you've taken Holtz down, I'll bring Connor back, and everything will be fine. You can show me what you've learned. Hope so, anyway.

Love you - see, I said it again.

Cordy

"Blast and damn," Wesley said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "She gave up on both of us."

"With good reason," Angel replied. "But she doesn't understand who she's dealing with. If Holtz isn't on her trail right now, he will be within minutes."

Wesley ran to the weapons cabinet to arm them. "How far do you think she's gone?"

Angel lifted his head and sniffed the air, damning himself for saying both too much and not enough. Again. Her scent, as well as Connor's, was far too weak. "Too far. We have to hurry."

**

Wesley drove; Angel took shotgun. They trusted that she'd head for the highway first, and they traveled as fast as they could until they saw the red-and-blue lights of the police ahead of them.

"There's been a wreck," Wesley said, moving to steer them clear. But Angel's sharper eyes saw through the gloom, and in one terrible, sickening moment, he realized that he recognized the car.

"It's her. That's Cordelia's car. Holtz already got to her."

Swearing, Wesley pulled them over and parked at the nearest curb. Angel banged the SUV's door against a fire hydrant as he stumbled out and ran toward the accident scene. There were at least three police cars - already an ambulance - God, it couldn't have been half an hour -

"Sir, we have to ask you to stay back." An officer held up her hands.

"The child in that car - that's my son. Let me through."

Her face darkened, and he saw real regret in her eyes. More gently she said, "Can you wait here? Someone's going to come talk to you."

Oh, no. No, it couldn't be.

"The woman who was driving," Wesley shouted. "Where is she?"

Still no answer. No answers were bad. No answers meant they were waiting to come break it to you gently.

Angel squinted through the flashing lights; he could make out bullet holes in the glass. Faraway, he could hear witnesses giving their statements: "It was like a gang of 'em! They had axes and arrows and guns and stuff - the Crips, maybe, I don't know -"

"Angel." Wesley's hand was on Angel's shoulder, though he seemed to be steadying himself as much as Angel. "Oh, God. This can't be happening."

"No," Angel said. "It can't."

He'd never meant to go even this far back. And it hurt to know that he had come so close to really and truly mending things - to making a real future with Cordelia and his son.

But if there was no other way to save them, then time would have to turn back once more.

As he put his hand in his pocket, Angel turned to Wesley and said, "Thanks for being my friend."

"What?" Wesley said, in the last moment before the world went gold, then went away.

**