Chapter 51

"What exactly did you say to Buffy to stop that fight from being a real fight? There was a lot less screaming last night than I anticipated."

Staring at his son over coffee and pancakes, Angel was hoping to get an answer to his questions before Buffy woke up. She had been exhausted last night and had gone to bed directly after the final credits of the movie had started to play. Connor had followed shortly thereafter, giving Angel little time to press for information.

His night had consisted of sketching and precious little sleep. He had already consumed half the pot of coffee and hoped that his day would not be too strenuous. Boring holes into his sons' skull, he pursed his lips and waited for Connor to speak.

"Well, I told her what I knew. About Cordy being alive and coming to you for help. I told her some stuff about when I came back and what you and I went through. You didn't tell her anything, did you?"

"I told her some stuff. It's hard to talk about a lot that happened back then."

"Back then. Is that when it was? I just think she needs to know some stuff in order to understand you. To understand us."

"So what exactly did you tell her?"

Connor shifted uncomfortably. "I told her I was raised in a hell dimension and when I came back I tried to kill you. I told her about your ocean submerged summer and how I went nuts and tried to kill a bunch pf people and you sent me to a new family. And I told her how much you missed her and the stories I heard from Cordy about her." He laughed a little before speaking again. "Cordy used to say that you'd travel through the center of the Earth to get to Buffy."

Shifting uneasily in his seat, Angel stared into his tepid coffee. "How did she respond to all that?"

"Well, she didn't kill you when you came home. She walked around for a while mumbling about stakes. I took that as my cue to talk to her. She was pretty upset that you hadn't told her about our history. She knew some stuff, but she had no idea how screwed up it really was."

"No, I didn't think she did. I thought it would be best not to tell her. I can barely deal with our past history."

"She's pretty strong. She's a cool chick."

Smirking, Angel rose to refill his mug and take his plate to the sink. "'A cool chick,' huh? I guess that's a pretty apt description."

"Yeah. We talked about a bunch of stuff once she wasn't homicidal."

"Like what?"

"None of your business." His tone wasn't offensive; there was an edge of playfulness in it Angel hadn't heard in a long time. None the less, Angel wanted an answer.

Looking perturbed, Angel sat back down with hot coffee. Narrowing his eyes at his son, he breathed in a deep breath. "Really? Connor, what did you guys talk about?"

"How ridiculous you are. What she wants to name the baby, if I'm ever going to move out or get another job. Stuff like that."

Sipping his coffee, Angel leaned back and let his facial features relax. "We talked a little about baby names. She seemed to want to wait until the baby was born to figure it out."

"She mentioned that you liked the name Brady. I like that name too; it's very Irish."

"I'm very Irish. So, what about the moving out and getting a job thing? I don't want you to go," he said quickly, "I just wonder what you guys discussed."

Smiling, Connor nodded slowly. "I like it here. Faith offered me a job yesterday. She called just after I got back from the office. I agreed to be her Director of Students. I get to work with all the slayers, make sure they have adequate housing, that they're happy with their schedules and all that. They get to come to me before they go her, you know, with problems and concerns and all that. It should be pretty cool."

Shocked, Angel stared at his son. It took him a moment before he was able to respond. "Are you qualified for that? I mean, are you comfortable with those responsibilities?"

"I have a college degree. I'm good with people and who better to work with slayers than someone who understands what it's like to be different. I know I'm pretty young to have that position, but this school is pretty haphazardly thrown together. I think you guys are lucky to get me." The last was spoken with the same playfulness that Angel had so missed hearing.

A rather patronizing smile came to Connor's face and Angel knew he was being provoked. Knowing these, he still took the bait. "We are not haphazard. We are planning this school very carefully and I think we've done a good job considering the time constraints we've had. Eight weeks to build a prep school and dormitories isn't a long time. Not to mention finding teachers."

"Yeah, you've done a pretty good job, I guess. Like I said, you're lucky to get me. Students go to me and I go to Faith and she goes to Willow and Giles and you. Well, I get to go straight to you if I have a concern about a student that needs your expertise."

"Expertise?"

"Money. I meant money. If a student had financial difficulties or something, Faith said to bypass her and go to you."

"That's really great. Very strategic of you two."

"Yeah I know. You won't say 'no' to me."

"I will to."

Their argument was cut off at the knees as Buffy came in and slowly sat down. She looked unhappy. Glaring in Angel's direction, he recognized her 'I'm hungry' look and rose to make more pancakes. Connor laughed at the entire proceeding.

Connor started with a cheery, "Morning."

Buffy grunted some kind of noncommittal answer in his direction and rubbed her belly. After a few moments of silence, she looked at Angel with an impatient look on her face.

"When is this baby going to come out?"

"A couple of weeks. Why, are you ready to be done with pregnancy?" Setting a short stack in front of her, he watched her reach across her belly to cut her pancakes.

"I am tired of not being able to see my feet. I want this baby out of me. Can we move this delivery date up?"

"I don't think that's really up to us, Buffy."

Connor rose to serve himself more food. "I think it's cool that I'm going to get a sibling." Sitting down, Connor tried to remember what it was like to have younger siblings. His memories were fading a little every day and he was having a hard time remembering what his life had been like. In the past two months, he lost most everything of his other family. He only remembered feelings.

He could remember being happy and content and feeling safe. Sometimes he wondered if those memories of feelings were what kept him sane. He didn't have to only remember fear and pain and hurt. He could concentrate on what happiness and security felt like.

"Well I want your little brother or sister to come out now. I can barely walk, Angel!"

Not knowing how to respond, Angel stayed silent. She needed to vent her frustrations, he thought. Rising, he kissed her head and went to the sink to rinse the dishes before putting them into the dishwasher. Smiling to himself, he thought about all the things he wanted to do with his second son. He was going to teach him to drive, and tie his shoes and play hockey; most likely not in that order. Starting to loose himself in his own dream world, he barely listened to Buffy and Connor speaking behind him.

"What will you name it if it's a girl?"

"Don't call my baby it, please. I was thinking Reagan if we have a girl. That's a good Irish name; I figured Angel would like it. And it's unique, which I like. What do you think?"

"It's pretty. You said you liked the name Brady for a boy?"

"I do. And I know Angel likes that name."

"He's all about the Irish names. Actually…" A strange look came across his face as recognition dawned on him. "Angel named me Connor O'Connor, didn't he? Hey!" Turning around, he looked at his father with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "What's with that?"

Dragged from his reverie, Angel turned to his family with a quizzical expression. "What? What did you say, Connor?"

"I said, you named me Connor O'Connor, you jerk!"

"Umm….I did. There's a reason behind that if you'd like to know."

Shaking his head and putting his hands in motion that signified 'well, duh' Connor looked at Angel expectantly. They could hear Buffy giggling in the background.

"I named you after Conn O'Connor, a legend in Irish history. Conn of the thousand battles. I figured you wouldn't like the name Conn, so I called you Connor. And I never meant to take my old name again. If it ever came down to it, I was going to choose a new surname."

"Why didn't you?'

Shrugging his shoulders, Angel closed the dishwasher door. "Will says I did it to torture myself. I think I was just too lazy to choose anything else."

Connor's interest was piqued. "Why he say it would torture you?"

Angel hesitated a moment before answering. "I didn't have a great life the first time around. I never wanted to take my fathers' name; I thought it would bring back bad memories. Will thinks I kept the name as a way to remind myself of an unpleasant past."

"Is that true?" Leaning back in his chair, Connor was suddenly consumed with curiosity. He had never gotten the chance, or taken the chance when he did have it, to really get to know the man that helped create him. For a long time, Connor had assumed what he knew about Angel was the be all and end all of the man. Connor hadn't realized that Angel had a life before he was a vampire, and had a life after he had a soul that Connor knew nothing about.

"It was pretty crappy." Swallowing, he saw Connor about to ask another question and quickly interjected. "Buffy wanted to see sketches."

Allowing the disappointment to show on his face, Connor turned to Buffy to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were wide and she was obviously interested in whatever Angel was talking about.

"I did! Ooh, ooh, show me!"

Nodding, Angel led the way to his office. Taking silent deep breaths, he was hoping that he had cleared out any embarrassing sketches the night before. Everything he had done that he wished for no one to see was conveniently locked in a drawer in his desk. Thinking back to the previous night, he hoped he had put everything of a compromising nature in that drawer.

Trying to calm his nerves as best he could, he pulled out a large accordion style file organizer and handed it directly to Buffy. He had toyed with paints for a time, but he was going to save those portraits for another time. The image he had been working on for a few months was still safe in its hiding place; he didn't want Buffy to see that yet. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he watched Connor and Buffy sit down next each other. Connor opened the organizer and pulled out a think stack of sturdy sketching paper.

The first image they saw made them drop their jaws and their eyes widen. The top image was the oldest; he had them categorized in chronological order. The entire collection he had created in Sunnydale and L.A. was in that organizer. All the artwork from older times that he had been able to save, which was a small percentage of the ones he had actually created, were in other folders. He was waiting to judge their reactions to these to decide if he wanted to show them others.

As they went through the images one by one, Buffy's breath caught. There was an image of her, Giles, Willow, Oz, Cordelia, Xander and Angel standing on the steps of the high school library. She was sure he had never seen such an image, but he had been able to create the image almost perfectly; they all looked the exact way she remembered that. She could even remember the skirt she was wearing in the picture. The black and white charcoal sketch in front of her made her eyes water as she remembered those times.

They overwhelming majority of the images were of Buffy, which made her blush. After a time, she realized that she and Connor had progressed through all the images he had created in Sunnydale. The next sets were of Cordelia, Fred, Wesley, Gunn, Lorne and Connor. She laughed at a picture that looked very much like a candid photograph. Cordelia was yelling at Wesley and Gunn and Fred were in the background frowning and looking rather confused. Lorne was sitting on the desk with his chin on his hand looking impatient. The image conveyed to Buffy much more than Angels' words about those times ever could. There was humor and love and everything a family was made up of in that picture.

For the next hour, Buffy and Connor perused many of the sketches Angel had created throughout the last decade. Connor became almost visually upset when he saw the images his father had created of him. Connor was an infant, in the arms of the people who had at that time been his family. He became very quiet as they looked at the portraits of baby Connor. The one that struck the young man most was of a laughing Cordelia holding him slightly away from her and up in the air. The image reminded Buffy of pictures she saw in magazines of mothers and bouncing infants.

Finally tearing themselves from the images in front of them, they looked up at Angel, who had been working on a new sketch while they had been looking at his previous ones. Wiping his blackened hands on the towel he kept in his top desk drawer, he managed a small smile in their direction. Leaning back, he cocked his head in their direction as he waited for one of them to say something.

"Oh my God," were the only words Buffy could manage. The only portrait she had seen of Angels' was the one he had done of Jenny just before he had killed her. Since that time, she had been almost afraid to ask him to see his artwork. Now, though, she couldn't wait to see more.

"I didn't know you did that." Connor was staring down at the portrait of Cordy holding him like a proud mother.

Seeing the look on Connor's face, Angel rose and went to his bookshelf. Removing one tome, he opened it and removed a photograph from a cut out section of the books insides. Handing the picture to Connor, he sat on the edge of the desk and watched his sons' expression.

"I have a whole album of things like that. I keep that one there because it was where I kept it after I had your memories erased. The albums were erased to; I had them in a storage container. That one I negotiated to keep. The albums reappeared when your memories did. I dug them out of storage a few weeks ago. It's a good thing I never got rid of the unit."

Buffy looked at him quizzically. "I didn't know you kept a storage unit."

"I have nooks all over town with things hidden in them."

"That's odd."

"I needed to keep things like that private. You can keep that, Connor. I think I have a frame for it somewhere."

He swallowed hard before answering in a very low voice. "Thank you." The photograph showed Angel smiling, holding an infant in his arms as he sat on a red circular couch in the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel. Cordelia was leaning over him, smiling down at the infant. Gunn, Fred, Wesley and Lorne were smiling at the camera.

"Lorne set the camera to take it. I didn't know it was about to go off. You made this sound; it was the cutest thing I had ever heard." A sad smile crossed Angels' face as he remembered being a dad for a few precious months.

Buffy averted her eyes as father and son shared a silent moment. She felt almost voyeuristic watching Angel in this manner. Seeing images of Angel as a father made her heart ache for joy and longing all at the same time. Her earnest desire to have memories and photographs of Angel and their baby seemed to burn a whole into her heart. She wanted what she could she Angel had once had, and she wanted to be able to share that joy and keep it for all her life.

Taking a deep breath, Angel tried to shake the melancholy that had come over him. "All right. Time for a field trip." Standing, he took Buffy's hand and motioned for Connor to follow him. It was time his son saw where he had come from.