Chapter 39

Buffy looked nervous. He noticed as soon he walked into the bedroom. She was pacing back and forth, an anxious look on her face.

"Buffy? Buffy, what's wrong?"

Her eyes were red and swollen; she had obviously been crying. Sitting down, she tried to take a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry Angel. I'm sorry; I don't mean to be such a big baby. I was having Braxton-Hicks this morning and I got scared. Then I thought, 'what if this really is labor?' and then I got even more scared. Then I thought about the fact that my mom won't be here to see my baby." She burst into a sob as she spoke the last sentence. She sat on the bed, leaning forward, her arms hanging limply at her sides as she balled.

Trying to focus on what would be most important, he asked, "Are you in labor?"

She shook her head. "No. I called the doctor and he said they were false contractions. They could happen all the time from now until I give birth. They're gone now. But what if I had been in labor?" Her sobbing started anew and Angel was confused as to how to comfort her.

Sitting next to her, he pulled her closer to his. "I'm sorry Buffy. I'm sorry your mom won't be here to see you give birth or hold our baby. I'm really sorry for all that. But…I think she would have been very happy and that you would be making her very proud. So, I think you should remember that, Buffy."

She nodded and tried to take a deep breath through her blocked nose. Her sobbing reached new decibel levels as she tried to communicate to Angel that her nose was blocked. After going into the bathroom to get her tissues, he sat next to her and waited for her to blow her nose. He was starting to realize that she needed to cry. The combined stresses of what had been happening in the last year were finally taking their toll on the pregnant slayer.

He held her and rocked her back and forth while she cried. Whispering reassurances in her ear, he rubbed her belly with one hand. He waited for over twenty minutes for her to cry herself out. When she seemed out of tears he rose to get her more tissues. Maybe she needed to do this a few times a decade, he reflected wryly. She seemed too exhausted to rise from the bed so Angel took her slippers off her feet and slipped the blankets over her. Watching her for a few moments, he waited for his love to fall asleep before rising and leaving the room.

Sighing deeply, Angel dragged his hands through his hair. He hoped Buffy wouldn't suffer from post partum depression, but it seemed as if she was already heading in that direction. As Angel made his way downstairs he looked out through the patio doors. Connor was throwing combinations at an invisible opponent.

Angel briefly considered leaving his son to be by himself, but quickly discarded the idea. Quietly making his way onto the patio, he watched a bedraggled Connor punching and kicking at the air in graceful yet stilted movements.

"You could use a partner."

"Are you volunteering?" Connor didn't stop his movements, but waited for Angel to step into it or block a move.

Angel chose to take the defensive. Connor seemed to need to relieve tension, and having a living punching bag would certainly help ease his frustrations. Dodging and ducking, Angel easily avoided Connor's movements. Deftly moving himself mere centimeters from Connor's arms and legs, Angel waited for the young man to really start putting effort into the moves.

Finally, Connor became frustrated. Then the young teenager that Angel remembered fighting starting to emerge once again. The Connor of yesteryear, an angry and combative young soul, emerged to give Angel an entirely decent workout. Connor was ferocious in his kicks and devastating in his punches. Angel managed to dodge most of them but did catch a few glancing blows. He was sure his arms and legs would be sore in the morning from blocking hits.

Connor suddenly unleashed a barrage of upper cuts and roundhouse kicks that took Angel off guard. The movements disintegrated as quickly as they had emerged though, and Connor was soon collapsing to the ground in a heaving and sobbing mess. Biting his lip, Angel knelt next to his son. It was almost impossible to stop himself from making a keening noise on behalf of his son's pain, but Angel somehow managed to stay silent.

He was starting to wonder if he would ever be around emotionally stable people, but laughed at the idea that he would consider himself emotionally stable. Pulling his grown son to him, he rocked the younger man in his arms, making meaningless yet comforting sounds in his ears. After a few minutes, Connor pulled away, obviously embarrassed. Trying to save the Connor from coming up with something to say, Angel helped him from the ground and into the living room.

After retrieving water and tissues for his son, Angel sat beside him on the couch, being careful not to touch Connor. Connor only wanted physical comfort when he was totally and utterly vulnerable. He was uncomfortable with it at any other time.

"Tell me what happened today."

Composing himself slightly, Connor sipped the water and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I saw pictures. Will showed me the leads, that Genero guy. They found out he was talking to a few other employees; got his phone records. Anyway, they're working that end and Will thinks we can find the guy soon. But…I asked to see pictures of…of the fire. And…oh, god, Angel." Connor put his head in his hands.

Angel fought the urge to curse Will. Connor was tenacious when he wanted to be and it was difficult to deny him what he wanted. Angel wasn't sure Will would have had a choice in showing the crime scene photos to his offspring.

"I'm so sorry, Connor." Angel gently put his hands on his sons' shoulders as he knelt before him. "We will find them, Connor. I swear that to you."

Connor merely nodded and indicated that he was going to bed. Angel nodded in response and gave his sons' shoulders a quick squeeze before watching him walk towards the stairwell. It was difficult to sleep after watching the two dearest people in his life so upset so Angel walked in a different direction.

Heading towards his study, Angel collapsed onto a leather couch. He pulled his sketch pad from behind the couch. He had been working on a very special project for Buffy for a few weeks. The sketch was one of the largest he had done in some time, but he was looking forward to framing it and hanging it in the nursery.

Smiling, he worked with his charcoals for a few hours until finally realizing he had to wake up in five hours. Sighing, he rose from the couch and covered the sketch with a special paper that would keep the charcoal from rubbing off. Setting the portrait in its hidden spot behind the couch, Angel quietly made his way upstairs and into bed.

He barely slept, but lay awake all night, tossing restlessly. Buffy didn't stir much; she had been sleeping more soundly lately. Rising when it was still dark outside, Angel scribbled a note to Buffy and changed into his jogging clothes. He hadn't been able to meet Wes, Will and Gunn as often as he had last year; they all seemed to have more pressing commitments lately. Today, though, he was sure Gunn would be out, at least.

Arriving at the beach, a cool breeze was blowing from the waves. It was too early in the day for the heat to rise too much. As Angel had suspected, Gunn was getting out of his car and was starting to stretch in preparation for his jog. Wesley was just pulling into the parking lot as Angel started stretching. Frowning, Angel realized that Will wouldn't be coming if he wasn't there already.

The three men stretched in silence and slipped their MP3 players into arm holsters. They ran in silence, the only sound to be heard on the beach was heavy breathing and the pounding of feet into sand. Angel was glad for the silence and the music pumping into his ears. He released some of the tension he had been holding recently and let his body sweat out his pain. This was a much more productive way of expressing his pain compared to his previous methods, Angel thought.

When they had cooled down and were leaning against their car hoods, Wes looked to Angel. "Where's Will?"

"Wasn't my turn to watch him."

"Uh-huh." Wesley seemed unconvinced. "His recent unexplained absences wouldn't have anything to do with a certain sister of a certain slayer, would it?"

Gunn's jaw dropped into the sand. "No way! I knew he was up to something, but Dawn? She's a kid, man! A damn kid. He's into that?"

"I suspected it." Wesley looked to Angel, presumably for confirmation.

Angel just sighed. Both men took that as all the answer needed. "Look, he's really sensitive about it. They don't want anyone to know; at least not until after Buffy gives birth. Even then, it won't be well received. So this is between just us, okay?"

"Why didn't he tell us? I'm hurt." Gunn finished toweling off and threw the terrycloth into the back of his jeep. "I mean, we tell each other everything, don't we?"

Taking that as a good cue to change the topic, Angel smiled and poked Gunn in between his ribs. "Yeah, we do. So why haven't you mentioned your little crush on a certain slayer?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come now, Gunn. We all saw the way you were looking at Faith. It was rather obvious."

"Shit. She doesn't know, right? I mean, I'd look pretty lame."

Angel snickered and opened his car door. "I think it's a safe bet to say she had no idea. But hey, she might like you. Ask her out."

Gunn smiled and started into his own vehicle. "I just might."

The three men parted ways, each going back to their homes to shower and change. Angel lived the furthest from their meeting place, which meant that he showered and changed at the office. He drove without the radio, sighing periodically. Finally, he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number only he and possibly a few couture tailors knew. She answered on the first ring.

"I thought you would be calling."

"How are you?"

"Same. How are you?"

"Same." He waited for her to say something to break the silence. This had been the extent of their conversations as of late. He missed his Cordelia. This one was much too taciturn.

She finally spoke. "I'm going out in a little while. Want to get breakfast?"

"An hour?"

"Meet me at our usual place."

She hung up without waiting for him to confirm where he would meet her. They both knew exactly where the other one meant when they requested meetings with each other.

Showering and dressing quickly, he headed to Cordy's favorite coffee shop. When he entered the small café, he saw her sitting at a back table, her knee length blue dress hanging around the thighs of her crossed legs. Her hair was pulled back and she wasn't wearing so much makeup that she looked gothic. She looked a little like his old Cordy.

They hugged as he entered and he took stock of her. She was smiling slightly, wearing a bright blue sundress that belted at the waist was cut rather modestly around the chest and had thin straps for sleeves. Angled bangs hung on her forehead and her cheeks were slightly rouged. The most telling sign she was in a good mood, though, were her shoes. She was wearing very fashionably espadrilles. Angel now knew that she wasn't going to brood throughout their breakfast. She only wore expensive, uncomfortable shoes when she was in a good mood.

"You look good."

"I have a job interview."

Angel hid his surprise. Cordelia did not need to work. He realized that she was probably bored out of her skull, though, so decided not to ask about her choice of timing. "Where are you applying?"

Angel thanked the waitress that brought them coffee and ordered an omelet. Cordy ordered a croissant he knew she wouldn't touch and scrambled egg whites with peppers and cheese.

"A little fashion magazine that comes out locally every month. I think I'll like it. Basic secretarial work. And I don't have to work nights, which is nice. It's a regular old nine to five. And I get to keep any samples designers send to me. That's the real reason I'm applying."

He smiled at her. "I'm glad you're happy."

"I wouldn't say that. I'm not sad, though. I guess I just am, you know? I don't have a feeling right now."

"I get that."

They made small talk as they ate their breakfast, and Angel had to suppress a snicker when Cordy only picked apart her croissant but never ate it. He still knew her, he thought.

They parted ways amicably, and Cordy promised to meet him for dinner later in the week. Smiling, Angel headed towards the office. He figured his day was going to get a lot worse since it had started out so well. That seemed to be the pattern his life followed.