Beginnings! They are what life is all about!
As long as there is life, every ending is a beginning.
- God Emperor of Dune, Frank Herbert

Angel watched from the cabin window as the young man raised his glass for a toast.
"To family."
Laughter filled the room as he winked and added jokingly, "not this family."
A weak smile tugged on Angel's lips with the strange combination of comfort and heavy sadness the toast gave him. He stepped away from the window and turned his back slowly on the joyful scene. More cheers and happy banter nipped at his heel as he hurried back to the limousine. His firm was doing a spectacular job with the boy. They had fulfilled Angel's wish and given Connor everything: the young man was smart, loved and would soon be off to college. Any college of his choosing thanks to the influential hand of Wolfram & Hart. The young man would be very well taken care of and had a bright future ahead of him.
"Sunnydale, Charles," Angel spoke into the intercom after climbing into the limousine.
"Yes, Mr. Angel," the voice of his chauffeur came crisply through the speakers.
The limousine started moving and the television screen before Angel flickered back to life. He pressed 'Play' on his remote and heard a click as the movie Terminator 2: Judgment Day resumed. He grinned. After years of fending off apocalypses, particularly the most recent plot to dominate the world, it was morbidly amusing to watch pop culture's more general depiction of Armageddon. If only it were as simple as machines taking over the world! The climatic chase scene had come to its end and the evil T-1000 destroyed. Arnie the Good Terminator was going to finish his mission by self-terminating. To ensure the future of humanity, all evidence of the cyborgs had to be eliminated, including himself.

"I have to go away, John," says the beaten-up Terminator.
"Don't do it. Please…don't go!" pleads the boy with tears in his eyes.
"It must end here…or I am the future."
"I order you not to!"
The Terminator touches a metal finger to the boy's cheek. "I know now why you cry. But it is something I can never do."

Angel felt something wet fall onto his hand. He touched his cheek and felt dampness there. Tears! He had seen this movie over twenty times since its release, and it had never made him cry. Not like this. He stared at the moisture on his fingers in awe. Why did he suddenly feel overwhelmed with grief? What pain was causing him to feel ridiculously like he had experienced first hand this part of the movie? It couldn't possibly be just the magnificent musical score as Arnie was slowly lowered into the molten lava.
He hoped Charles wouldn't turn on his intercom, hear him crying and assume it was because of the movie. He didn't want the firm to think their new president was a big softy. So why did he cry as if he was suffering a great loss?

Lilah had been waiting for him in the lobby, just as he had guessed. She handed him a small package and informed him that everything was ready. Angel informed her that there'd be a slight change of plans: he wanted to see him first. When Lilah objected, Angel reminded her about the value of compromise. He would not be deterred.
"You're the boss," she relented with a shrug. "There'll be a limo waiting for you outside. It'll take you to see Connor."
He nodded and spared a quick glance at each member of his crew as he walked by. Wesley, Fred, Gunn, Lorne - they were his family now. But the surprised and questioning looks they gave him as he passed made him uncomfortable and eager to get out of the city they had just inherited. He couldn't face them, not yet.

An hour later found Angel still in L.A., trapped in a limo creeping along in the mid-afternoon highway rush hour. Restless, he started pressing the buttons on the panel beside him. A compartment popped open beneath him revealing a collection of movie DVDs. He scanned the titles and pulled one out. He got up from his seat to insert the DVD into the mini entertainment system in front of him. Angel plopped back down and paged his chauffeur.
"Yes, Mr. Angel?"
"This place doesn't make popcorn, does it?" Not that he could eat popcorn, but he was curious.
"No, sir, but there's a fridge compartment with pints of otter blood if you're thirsty."
Angel raised his brow. Impressive. "Thank you, Charles."
He took a pint from the aforementioned compartment, sat back, and pressed 'Play'.

Another hour later, the limo was making its way up country on a long, winding road.
The director's cut of Terminator 2: Judgement Day had reached the middle of the story where the young boy named John Connor, destined to be the leader of mankind (Why did that sound so familiar?), tells Arnie the Terminator about his parents and their brief but passionate night together. I know THAT story well, Angel sighed.

"Why do you cry?" asks the Terminator.
"You mean people?" the boy says. "I don't know. We just cry. You know, when it hurts."
"Pain causes it?" the Terminator asks innocently.
"Uh-unh, no. It's different," young Connor frowns and tries to explain the form of expression simply. "It's when there's nothing wrong with you, but you hurt anyway. You get it?"
"No."

Angel hit 'Pause' and looked out the window. It was late afternoon and the sun was just nearing the horizon. He closed his eyes and wondered if they'd arrive at the cabin before dark. An image appeared in his mind of a dark haired young man with piercing blue eyes and pouty red lips pulled back in a rare smile. Compelled by a sudden urgency to memorize every detail, Angel tried to concentrate on the image; but already it was fading into darkness. The features blurred the more he tried to focus on the face. He opened his eyes and, despite the protective glass, squinted at the harsh light of the late afternoon sun. There was a click as the movie automatically began to play again.

"…It would never leave him. It would always be there. And it would never hurt him, never shout at him or get drunk and hit him, or say it couldn't spend time with him because it was too busy. And it would die to protect him."

The monologue moved Angel very deeply and made his heart feel like deadweight in his chest. He found himself strangely fixated on the young dark-haired boy destined to lead mankind in the war against the machines. He was going to see a Connor himself, wasn't he? Perhaps not destined to save mankind, but definitely destined for greatness.
Once upon a time.
Suddenly, ever muscle in his body tensed - the thought had come unbidden to his mind. Images quickly flashed before his eyes: first a baby, then a young man. He remembered now what he would never remember again. "Connor," Angel gasped and pressed his hand to the window pane as if trying to catch the departing images. He could feel his memories being rewritten as he succumbed to the spell that had finally caught up with him. I did it for you. All for you.

"In an insane world, it was the sanest choice."

Angel blinked. He had dozed off for a minute there. Angel rubbed the back of his neck and grabbed himself another pint of blood from the limo's fridge compartment.
"Mr. Angel?" his chauffeur's crisp voice called from the panel speakers.
"Yes, Charles?" Angel replied.
"We're approaching the cabin, sir."

He squinted at his staggering skyscraper view of Los Angeles, soaking in the warmth of the sun through his state-of-the-art glass walls, and wondered how he could go on. No, not how but why. He corrected himself. The 'how' would be taken care of soon enough. History was rewriting itself. Angel could feel the powerful spell already taking effect in the building. By midnight, no one in the world would ever know he had a son - not even Angel himself.
It was the price he chose to pay to give Connor another chance at life and finding that elusive happiness. Unbidden, the boy's voice came screaming back into his head from their final encounter:
"DO NOT SAY YOU'RE SORRY! It doesn't fix anything!"
He was right, of course. He would never love Angel as a father. He had grown up too hard, lost his youth and innocence too soon to give in to such feeling. He'd become too cold for that.
"You tried to love me…at least I think you did. [broken] But not enough to hang on, Dad."
No child, even one born of two notorious vampires, should have ever grown up in a hell dimension. There was no way to possibly take back those years, no matter how much Angel wanted to. But he pleaded with his son anyway.
"I want to give you everything. I want to take back the mistakes, help you start over."
"We can't start over."
"We can. Maybe we can change things."
How could he prove his love for his son when the only love the boy had ever known betrayed him? How could he convince Connor that his life wasn't all a lie and that death was not the answer when no evidence existed of the contrary in the boy's hard life?
"I can't be saved by a lie. I can't be saved at all!"
The futility in his cracked words, the hunted wildness in his eyes and the entire suicidal hostage situation was a final desperate cry for help. Angel swallowed hard and closed his eyes as he remembered the decision he made then. How simple and easy the choice had been - his first executive decision. He would prove his love for Connor by making the ultimate sacrifice. How ironic that by doing so, Connor would never know the depth of his father's love. He would also never know the darkness or despair again. He would be completely cut off from his old life, no ties or memories linking him to anything even remotely supernatural. Connor would be given a new life, a new family, and a chance to find the one thing that had always eluded him: peace.
And that is enough, Angel thought. What he doesn't know cannot hurt him anymore.
Absolutely no evidence was to be spared of Connor's true lineage, not even Angel's own memories. Sure the knowledge that he would lose those precious few memories he had of his son by making this deal was torture on his soul, but if given the choice he would willingly bear the pain for eternity if it meant Connor would be happy. It was almost a pity that the spell would eliminate that choice. What could not hurt Connor would soon also not hurt him. He turned from the window and stepped into his private elevator. He pressed the "L" for lobby where he knew Lilah and the others were waiting.
He smiled sadly as the doors closed on his view of another beautiful California day.
The memories will fade.