Title - Believable Lies

By - Mariah (symonk@bezeqint.net)

Disclaimer - not mine.

Distribution - my B/A fanfic site (http://www.withtheprettiness.com/evennow) and everyone with permission. Ask me first.

Rating - PG

Spoilers - everything ever.

Pairing - Buffy/Angel.

Synopsis - 4th part in a series. Buffy has a talk with Connor.

Feedback - always.

AN - Buffy's pov.

He's just staring at me. I have to wonder what exactly is he staring at, is it my tear-streaked face, the red circling my eyes? I don't know. Somehow, I don't think that's it. I think what he's really asking himself is what do we possibly have to talk about. As far as he's concerned, didn't I say everything back in the house, did it really require more than one sentence, one *word* to tell him I'm tying my life for eternity to another man, willingly? A part of me is angry with him right now, because I think he behaves like a little kid, while a man who's pushing his twenty second year should have a bit more grasp at reality. But he never was your ordinary Joe, was he, never looked at things like someone at his age was supposed to?... Maybe that's always been one of the problems, maybe that was one of the things I liked about him... because in some way even that reminded me of his father...

On other hand, he can't possibly be expecting me to give him the complete 'birds and bees' speech you give a fourteen-year-old. He's expecting a justification for something I'm not supposed to feel guilty about, but he makes me to. His eyes do. I find myself being forced to avoid his gaze because it grabs me and strips me of every defense. I *know* he'll have an answer to every argument I can possibly bring and that scares me. Because I know that if he chooses that approach, if he chooses to push me to the corner, I'll have to go places I don't want to ever go again, or at all.

But he isn't going to leave me a choice.

"You love him."

My head snaps up and I drop every guard as I lock eyes with his clear blue ones. As always, his gaze is so serious and so set, it feels as though I'm talking with a person twice his age. Giles springs to mind, and with a slight wince I realize I still have that one in store for the very nearby future...

"I do-"

He shakes his head and I know I must cut him off before he calls me a liar because I know he's going to and I know I won't be able to bear the sound of that.

"I *do*," I repeat myself, emphasizing the last word, trying to get my message through.

"You can't," he protests evenly, not changing at all the emotionless expression of his face. If you look hard, the only emotion you actually can see through the mask of indifference is chagrin. "When you love someone, you don't marry someone else."

I chuckle even though his words clutch my heart with an iron fist and I want to scream, at him, at the world, at anyone who dares to make me feel guilty for being happy, because they make me realize that deep deep inside, I always will be. "And what about when that someone has been dead for three years, Connor? Does that substitute a loophole in the grand rule?" my voice, being a pretty lousy attempt at sarcasm to cover for the pain these words inflict upon me, expectedly fails to work on him.

He doesn't say anything for a while, but I can never believe he's speechless. Not Connor, not in a case like this. He knows exactly which buttons to press in order to bare the very depth of my soul naked, if he didn't, he wouldn't be his father's son. "How can you?" he finally speaks again, after a spell of nerve-wrenching silence, and his voice is low, with slight traces of accusation in it only I can detect. "When he died, I had *nothing* left. When he was alive, I thought I had nothing, but I didn't realize what I was missing out, I *never* gave him a chance, and I *never* had a father. Then you came." He pauses momentarily and looks at me, to see if I'm listening. When he verifies I am, he briefly looks down to the ground, then walks around me and sits down on the dew covered grass by Angel's grave, leaning his back on the cold stone with a sigh.

I look at him for a while, doing nothing, waiting for him to speak. Only when I realize he's waiting for me to follow his example, I comply and sit down next to him, gathering my knees to my chest. As we both gaze ahead instead of each other, Connor resumes his speech, "His friends never really cared about me, you know that, they never wanted me around." He shrugs carelessly as he adds, "Or maybe I never gave them their chance, too. But when you came, you took me in. *You* wanted me. When no one, no *one* in this town was willing to do as much as mention my father, *you* never stopped talking about him, you went out of your way to make me see who he really was, t-the... man that he was. And you succeeded." The way in which he uttered the word 'man' doesn't skip past my ears and I'm forced to throw a glance at him just to see the expression on his face. At my disappointment, it's unchanged, still as passive as it was before. And still, I can't even begin to imagine what he must be feeling right now.

He apes me as he, too, pulls his knees to his chest as he continues. "You succeeded because you were right, because you were the only one who cared enough for me to discover *that* side of him, the rest... all they had to offer was just words. Even Cordelia," he shrugs and I tense at the mention of that name. He must have picked up the vibes from me because I catch him glance at me in the corner of my eye and I detect a well-hidden smirk in his. "She never loved him. Back then, with what... happened... I was stupid. I didn't care, I didn't understand, or possibly didn't want to, and I'm ashamed of that now. But she should have, because she claimed to love him. She never truly accepted him, whom he was. Or so I think," he shrugs again and I see he's no longer speaking on personal level. He's put that well behind him, and at least at that, I'm glad.

"But you... you loved him. You really loved him, and I could see that, even then, even when I refused to believe anyone ever could love... him." His jaw is set firmly as he looks on, resolute not to reveal any emotion that might point on weakness. And gain, I feel I would give everything for a single peek at what's going on in his head.

"It wasn't a lie, Connor," I say softly, knowing already where he's heading with that not-so-subtle hint.

"I don't know that," he protests firmly without hesitation and I feel like something sharp has just pierced me through completely. How dares he?

"You're not a little boy, Connor," I tell him, my voice sounding a tad colder than I'd intended. "I don't need to explain you the facts of life. But I'll tell you this, real world doesn't work like fairytales do." I turn my head and face him. At first, he refuses to look at me, but then my perpetual gaze gets to him and he gives in. "In the real world, nothing is forever. The ones you love most are taken from you and there is *nothing* anyone can do to make it better, there is no nightmare to wake up from and unless you find some straw to grasp at and pull yourself up, you'll vanish from the face of the earth, too. Well, here is a newsflesh for you, as much as I maybe wanted to follow your father, if you take a look at my very impressive dying-record, you'll find this world doesn't really want me gone, been there, done that, two times, in fact. I *don't* belong to myself, Connor. So didn't your father. You think if we did, we'd ever let the circumstances to pull us as far apart as for me to not be able to tell him how much I loved him on his deathbed??" I catch my breath in my throat as I realize I almost screamed the last sentence. My eyes are watering up again and I vainly attempt to dry them with my sleeve, but it doesn't seem to bring any results. Did I have to go there, were my emotions that off today? There was no way back now, was there...

"You were there," he whispers in acknowledgement as he looks down into his lap.

"Yeah," I confirm bitingly though I don't intend to hurt him. And all the wile, I know there was no way back. "You weren't. He asked for you, he asked for his son and you weren't there, and now you tell *me* I'm not true to my feelings. Do you have any idea what it did to him to not have you there?"

He flinches at my words and slightly moves away from me and I know I should have never said that. It wasn't fair. I had no right. But looking at him I know apology is not in order, it's as worthless as it could ever be. Instead I simply release one of my hands from the circle formed around my knees and find his, squeezing it gently and holding it. Without looking at him, I say, "Neither one of us said goodbye. It doesn't really matter why now that there is no one left to say goodbye to. I remember locking myself inside his room," I gulp, letting go of him and running a shaky hand through my hair. At my relief I notice him looking at me again, and I go on, "I lay down next to him, and I wouldn't take my eyes off him until my lids became too heavy to hold them open. When I," I have to stop due to a sudden lump in my throat as I struggle to conquer a sob rising at the memory, "when I woke up... there was nothing left. Nothing, just...ashes. I guess however you kill them, sunlight, beheading, stake... poison, all that's left is ashes."

He's still looking at me, I think he's processing everything, giving special attention to each word I say as soon as it leaves my lips. What's important is that he listens. I'm glad I made him listen, maybe it'll open his eyes to certain things, I don't know. But at least he'll know things he didn't before, and I... I will finally tell someone things no one else knows. Him being that someone doesn't really strike me as a surprise.

"When I said his wish was to be buried in Sunnydale, I lied," I stated simply, as though it wasn't even remotely supposed to be an enormous revelation. "I wanted the headstone to be set here because I wanted my dreams to be buried in the same town they were born in the first place, even though there was technically nothing to bury, because nothing was left of him. When they accused me of being heartless when I didn't shed a tear at the funeral, while Cordelia cried her eyes out, do you think I cared?" I shrug, sniffing back more rising tears. "I didn't. Because I didn't care what his friends thought of me. They were strangers to me. The people who were the closest to me, Giles, Willow, Xander, Dawn... they knew. And that's what was important, even though they might have not known how to be there for me at the time. I had nothing to do in Los Angeles, except putting my heart into convincing you to come back with me. I made a promise to your father I had to keep."

He raises a brow and I know he misunderstood me. Guess that tendency passes through generations, too. "You *had* to," he comments, too mockingly for my liking.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you," I retort, curving my lips in a not so convincing half-smile. "My promise to Angel was that I would take care of you, not that I would insist on dragging you all the way back to Sunnydale to live with me. That part was my idea. *I* wanted you there, Connor, as much as it's maybe hard for you to believe. It's true I didn't know you at all back then, so it would be a lie to say I wanted you completely because of you." He nods weakly and I continue. "But you were his son, and that was reason enough for me to take you in. Aside from that, you were my only link to him, I couldn't give that up just yet. He loved you, Connor," I smile as I say that, and we both know that smile is true. "You were only too late to realize just how much. But he did. Even though I wasn't there then, and I knew nothing of what went on between you two, I *know* he did. And the fact you were the most important thing in the world to him instantly made you important to me. I loved him, Connor, more than I would ever love anything in this life, and the last thing he asked me before he died was to take care of you. Now, if it makes you feel better thinking you were a charity case, be my guest."

We both sit in silence, neither of us says anything as moments flow on and on. I don't know what he's thinking, I could never guess, I do know what I'm thinking though. Something along the lines of just how much his inevitable comeback is going to strike the perfect spot this time.

It turns out I don't have to wait that long.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he says, as he climbs up to his feet, facing me with his back. "If you can turn your back on my father, after everything you told me, you don't need me around anymore. So I'll get out of your life," he assures. As he turns around and looks me in the eye, he adds, "and of *his*."

Damn him for being so stubborn! Why does he have to insist on behaving like a child when I need his adult understanding??

"Connor, wait!" I call after him when he starts off and he stops with a sigh though he doesn't face me, just folds his arms on his chest and waits patiently for me to either catch up or say whatever I had to say.

I stand and walk up to him. "Look," I take a deep breath and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a dull attempt to occupy myself somehow. "You're a grown up man, and I'm not and never could be your mom. Do whatever you decide to do, and whatever that is, I'll still always be around to keep my promise to Angel. I *will* take care of you, like it or not, you will always be my family and you'll *always* have a home here and a person to turn to. And no one is ever going to change that. Not Cole... no one. Keep that in mind."

He nods stiffly, but doesn't revolve for me to see his face, and seeing as I reach up to his shoulders in height it's a little hard for me to do. He begins walking again, but I grab his hand just before he steps out of reach and cause him to stop.

"And remember this," I find myself saying, only acknowledging how important it is once I do. "*Never* think what I told you, *anything* I ever told you, to be a lie. You can be angry with me now, and I can understand that. Whether you come around or not, it's your business. Like I said, you're a grown up entitled to his own decisions. But *don't* let it destroy your father's image in your eyes, because if you do... I failed. And I can't fail in this. *He* doesn't deserve this. If you don't want to believe what I say I feel for him, fine. But Angel was everything I said and so much more, never forget that."

"Yeah," he nods indifferently, but I know there's more to it and a moment later, he proves me right. "That would at least make one of us." Before I can throw something at least half as low back at him, he holds up one hand and looks at me, "'In all my years I only loved this one person, and she was everything. I stepped into the darkest nothing when I turned away from her, but I knew, one thing, where I was right. You can't enjoy the best of both worlds, you can't hang on to the past and give in to happiness at the same time, it doesn't work that way, life is way too tricky. If you do that though, in the long run, it's no life at all.' It's from one of his diaries," he explains as I stare at him in confusion, "I memorized it. Thought you should look into it."

I look at him and want to say something, but my mouth refuses to speak. I run Angel's words through my head time and again, endeavoring to take them the wrong way. But I can't. Because they're said just the right way. I lied to myself when I thought writing a letter or making a silent pact with myself would release me from his memories. Nothing will, because as long as I'm alive, wherever I'll be, I'll find something to remind me of him. Will Connor be doing me a favor if he leaves? I don't know. All I know is that I can't not have him here.

I'm still holding on to his memory, I realize bitterly. Nothing I will ever say or do will ever change that, Connor knew that before I did, as ridiculous as it may be. I love *him*, and I'm marrying Cole, who can never be him, and I'm sure I love Cole, too, enough to marry him, anyway. Can I have them both like this for the rest of my life or am I really dooming myself?

"I gotta go now," I hear Angel's son and try to shake the thoughts out of my head, but they're refusing to let go.

"Where?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Don't know. I still don't know what I'm gonna do."

With that, he turns around and walks away, typically leaving me hanging on his words.

THE END