Chapter 5
Buffy and Angel were going home. She was tired, more so than she wanted to admit. He cooked her dinner when they got home, and she found the energy to want him afterwards. They made slow, lazy love that night. She fell asleep not long afterwards.
Angel snuck out of bed. He didn't want her to hear him going to his office; she was a nosey woman. Taking the book out of its locked glass case, he touched the over lovingly. To anyone but Angel, it was a centuries old, falling apart, tome about vampires. Not unlike a few books Giles had in his collection. To Angel, it was a lifeline to his son.
He whispered a word to the book and the pages opened. Connor appeared there. Sitting at his desk, he read about what his son had been up to lately. He had graduated college; he was seeing a girl from Santa Monica. He was happy. Angel looked at his photo, he was smiling, his arms around the people he thought were his parents. He was a well adjusted and soon to be successful young man.
Angel had made sure the Los Angeles County Museum of Art was going to promote Connor soon. Not that the young man hadn't earned it. Angel just thought having an unknown benefactor wouldn't hurt the boy. He was bright, he was ambitious, and he was talented. The art director hadn't had any qualms about raising him in the ranks.
Angel closed the book after a few moments and replaced it in its case. The best place to hide something was in plain site, he thought. No one would dare touch such an antique. It looked like it could fall apart at a slight wind, and Buffy hadn't looked twice at it.
He didn't plan to tell her about his son. This was something that had to be kept secret. She wouldn't understand this. She wouldn't understand where Connor came from, or why Angel had done what he had done. Angel barely understood it. He knew that the son of two vampires was not meant to be an art restorer in LA, though. Connor was meant for greater things than that.
Angel wanted to make sure Connor had some kind of life before all hell broke loose, though. The Powers would call on Connor eventually, enlist him in the cause. Some part of Angel, though, thought that if he did the work of ten men, twenty, if he could bring peace, Connor wouldn't have to be called to battle. It wasn't a conscious thought, but it was there all the same. Angel didn't want Connor to be called up. He wanted his son to have a normal life. He wanted his son to get married, have kids, and grow old.
If he could do enough good, the Powers wouldn't need Connor. Angel could do the work that he and Connor would have done put together. If he did that, Connor could be left alone.
He listened suddenly as he heard Buffy getting up. He went to kitchen quickly and pulled out a tea bag and a cup. He had never made tea so fast in all his life. When she came downstairs, all she saw was Angel dunking a tea bag in hot water a few times.
She smiled. "Couldn't sleep?" She looked a little worried, but not overly so.
"I'll be fine. I just to relax for a few minutes."
She nodded her understanding and sat with him at the table. They talked about their day, something they had started doing at dinner but abruptly stopped when they became distracted by sex. The novelty of being bale to make love hadn't worn off. Angel hoped it never would.
When he saw her start to drift to sleep as she sat, he rose and prodded her up the stairs. She was so beautiful, he though. So perfect. Nothing in the world could make him ruin their relationship as it was now. They had become so close, restored so much faith in each other, he knew he could do nothing to jeopardize that. He rubbed her belly as they lay in bed, wanting to listen to the heart beat of his baby for a little while longer. He fell asleep to the steady and fast rhythm of a fetal heart tone.