Connor Angel slept badly. It was a fact of life he had learned to deal with. But last night, he slept soundly for the first time in so long. He'd woken up the next morning with a feeling of relaxation and peace. In fact, he'd never felt better. Pushing his weight on to his hands, he sat up. He looked through the bedroom - his bedroom - window and the bright Los Angeles sun shone through the window. It was late.

"Connor?"

He heard Angel's voice from outside, and in that instant, he entered the room. He looked wide-awake, wearing black jeans and a cream jumper. He came in and sat down on the bed, smoothing the covers. He cleared his throat, and asked how he'd slept.

"Fine,"

He squirmed slightly, and asked if he wanted anything else to read. Connor answered that he did not. Suddenly, he understood the saying that silence can be deafening. His father.Angel.suddenly stood and said, "Well, if you feel like some lunch, I could fix you something."

"Lunch?" What had happened to breakfast?

"Its past one," Angel answered as if he had read his mind. He smiled and Connors coldness melted slightly. This was something he had to get used to.

"I'd like that," he said hoarsely, barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across Angel's face. "I'll come up when it's ready, okay?"

Connor just smiled. Angel turned to leave, but then tramped on something. He leant down and picked whatever it was up. Connor cocked his head to one side, with curiosity. It was a pen cap.

"Looks like you forgot to cap your pen, " Angel smiled. He replaced the cap of the pen.

No I didn't, Connor thought. But that was all. As Angel went downstairs, Connor dressed and washed quickly. As he re-entered the room some twenty minutes later, he noticed that the book he had been writing on the night before, and he had strewn across the room, was sitting neatly on his desk.

This was just getting weirder and weirder. First the pen lid, and now a book I threw neatly. Did Angel do this? Cordelia perhaps? He opened to the page he had been writing and his stomach left for safer climate. There beside his own scruffy hand writing was elegant, old fathered hand writing, quite similar to his Fath-..Holtz's. He sat on his bed and his felt slightly dizzy as he began to read.

"Dearest,

I know that a life can be hard on you. Especially for a young man of your age. I am glad that you seem happy, with this Dawn. Maybe you are correct and that is what she is. A new Dawn. Hope on a horizon of the despair this life has put you through.

In response to your question, I have questioned my existence, many times in fact. If I am honest, I have never asked, but if I were with you now I would say that you are the reason. My own little horizon, my dawn of new life.

If I didn't know, I would say you are falling into a little thing called love. This love, it can hurt you sometimes. And by the hard you seem to be falling, it could hurt you a lot. She could. Be careful, my love. Love can burn you. Tear you up. I should know.

You will always belong, Connor. You have a family. One who loves you. A devoted father who will do anything for you. A mother who wants to protect you.

Some people are frightened of love. They have been burned and now a fearful of it. But love can be wonderful. Like waking up on a spring morning and she is the first you think of. That everything else no longer matters around her. That is love. And, I also think, that you are falling in love.

I know you are afraid. You are a teenager it's allowed. Confusion is also a part of that. Its called growing up, and its a bitch. But a part of life, none the less. Loneliness is more frightening than anything else Connor. Never be lonely. Be happy. But if you need to cry, then do that too. Don't bottle it up.

I do understand and I did and still do feel it. But I want him to be happy and we never could have been. Even with out little miracle, with you. Feel that and treasure it my love, it's a sacred feeling. And I'm happy for you and this Dawn. Tell me about her. What is she like? Who is she? Why has she enamoured your heart so?

I've been dead before, and I could still talk. I'll always be there for you Connor. Always. I love you.

Your somewhat late doting mother,

Darla."