The room was entirely too quiet, but that was okay. Because if she spoke Buffy was pretty sure it was going to be one huge blabberfest. She lay nestled in the crook of Angel’s arm, her breathing and heartbeat having slowed long ago, and now, if she let herself pretend, she could close her eyes and imagine that this was an entirely normal situation—her, in the arms of her lover, being held in the aftermath of…of…

…Of feverishly attacking each other in a display of sexual tension and desire that she usually saw only late night on Cinemax. It was impossible to deny it…that’s what it had been. One minute, fondly talking to each other as friends, the next, naked, fleshy goodness.

Good, of course, didn’t even come close to describing how it had felt. Come on…it was Angel. They were together. She’d given herself over completely to him, abandoning all sense of modesty and totally eliminating any kind of common sense.

He was perfectly still next to her, what with not needing to breath and all, and damn it if she still, after seven long years, had no idea what he might be thinking. She could ask, of course, but that wasn’t the way their game was played, now was it? Nope. She should just prepare herself for awkwardness, bumbling words and avoiding eye contact for the next little while until something else should happen—they’d get into a fight, or a disaster would spring up that forced them to work together, or, in the most pleasant scenario, they’d get into an argument that led to more of kissing, touching, and general sexual satisfaction.

Only she wouldn’t call herself satisfied. And that certainly wasn’t something new where Angel was concerned. Because, as she’d told him long ago, they weren’t having satisfaction in the personal sense. Couldn’t. So what were they doing? Rekindling their romance? Venting frustrations in the most pleasant possible way? She wasn’t sure she had the patience to wait until something blew up between them before she could know. That could be hours, sure, but it could also be days, or worse…never. Her life with Angel was complicated enough without adding in putting off the inevitable discussion.

So she wouldn’t. Swallowing hard, pride being a difficult thing to manage sometimes, she looked up from resting her cheek against his firm pecs. “So…what was that all about?” she asked softly, hoping she sounded casual and not in the least bit upset.

Relief flooded through him. Talk. Conversation. They were going to discuss what had just happened. Good. That was good, right? It couldn’t be bad. Unless they got into a fight, which, given their history, was likely. No. It had to be good. He just wished he had answers for her.

“I…ah…I really don’t know,” he confessed. When her brow furrowed into a concerned frown, he turned his head to see her better. “But it was…nice…” He cringed at the description for what had ultimately been the most pleasurable experience he’d had since…well, the last time they’d lay like this. Nice was such a lame word for what it had been, but it was the best he could do.

She relaxed a bit more against his side. “It was,” she agreed. “Very. I’m just not sure…was it a good thing for us to do?”

“I don’t know,” he said again and disengaged himself from her to turn on his side, propping his head up with his hand. Before she could scoot away he pulled the robe up and over her, covering her nude body, and lay his free hand on her stomach, a silent plea to stay where she was. When he was confident she wasn’t going to move away from him he released his tender hold on her and brushed the hair from her eyes. “I didn’t mean to do that, to lose control and…”

“Attack each other?” she smiled sheepishly. “I sorta figured that wasn’t your master plan when you came down here.”

“I’m not saying I’m sorry,” he murmured lovingly. “Because…I’m not…really.”

Honesty…another new switch for them. “I’m not either,” she told him, trying it out herself. “Ever since I got here…I mean, I know some of it was because of the spell, but…”

He nodded. “There’s been something between us.”

“I figured it was just, you know…residual from the spell. I’ve had bad relationships lately…needed some comfort…” Like in the cemetery…

Toying with the fabric of the robe he looked down. “I figured it was the spell,” he agreed, “bringing all those feelings back.”

“But?” she wheedled.

Wholesome brown eyes raised to hers. “But then the spell was over, and they were still there. And so were you.”

“So what happens if this turns out to really be just after-effects of the magic?” she asked tentatively. “What if in a couple days, or after I’m back in Sunnydale, you…or we…figure out that this didn’t mean anything?”

As she spoke he realized that was the last thing he wanted.

“Do you think that’s what it is?” he asked her seriously.

Her gazed fixed on his and held for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Do you…want it to be?”

Buffy hesitated. “I don’t know that, either. I mean…Angel, I care for you…you know that. But you and me…we’re…”

“Don’t say complicated,” he begged.

She raised an eyebrow curiously and searched for a different word. “…involved. Ever since we met, things haven’t gone smoothly when it comes to each other. And here we are, seven years later. What makes us think that maybe now is the right time for us?”

She was right, she hadn’t even had to say any of that. It was the truth of them, something that didn’t change no matter what happened in their lives. But still…“What if there never is a right time?” he countered gently.

She sighed. “I’m beginning to think there never will be.”

His heart began to sink in his chest and he watched as her eyes closed, shielding out the pain of their reality. Moving in, he brought his lips to hers. Gently he kissed her, putting no more pressure on her than lip to lip, but it was enough to turn her body to jelly once again. When he pulled away a moment later he rested his forehead against hers. “Buffy, I…”

I what? I love you? I need you? I want you? I don’t want this to stop but I don’t know how to make it start?

Her hand came up and held his to her cheek. “I know…Angel.”

For a second he allowed himself to revel in the warmth of her touch, of her skin touching his so intimately, tenderly. “I’m not sure where to go with this, Buffy,” he whispered to her painfully. “I don’t want to let it go… But I don’t want you to get hurt again, either. It’s been a long time for us… Sometimes you can’t go back, no matter how much you may want to.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I know. You’re right…” Sniffling she dropped his hand. “Hey… I’m not seeing anyone right now. And…well, I’m assuming you’re not,” she said with a small smile. “We can just take it easy, see if this fits for us. You’re right, it might not, even if we want…Angel?”

I’m not seeing anyone…assuming you’re not…

His heart jolted in his chest and eyes his widened in panic. “Oh God…I just…Buffy, I’m…”

“What?” she asked, nervously. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

How in the hell could he completely forget about Cordelia in all of this? A girl that he was supposed to be in love with? And had been…for months now? A woman that, at the moment, he was still supposed to be working things out with? He stared with horror at Buffy, ashamed and completely confused.

“Angel…what’s wrong?” she demanded, sitting up.

“I--” he stammered, scrambling up and off the bed, yanking clothes back on. “I have to go.”

“Wait…what? Why?”

“I have to…//Good Christ//…I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be here. There’s some things I need to work out first…I’m sorry.”

“But…” she began as he turned and walked briskly out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. “…why?”

*~*~*

Cordelia turned in her sleep, muttering softly in the incoherent babble of dreamers. Her hair flopped over her eyes as she moved, making her nose twitch, and her hand came up absently to swipe at the offending lock. Somewhere in the crevices of her brain registered the sensation of additional weight on her bed and her eyes opened slowly, blinking back sleep.

What she saw before her caused them to pop open fully.

“Now there’s a sight for me sore eyes,” Doyle whispered to her gently, a simple, smitten smile on his face.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, scrambling to sit up. “This is one hell of a dream…”

His head tilted to one side. “’Fraid not…though hopefully a dream like this’d fall in the category of fantasy, not nightmare. I know it does for me every time I have one like it. Only you’re less clothed. And I’ve assumed the physique of Colin Farrell.”

She continued to stare at him.

“I’ve heard he’s pretty filled out in the knickers,” he added. Then, with still no response from Cordy, “’Delia…it’s me. I promise.”

“Doyle?” she whispered softly. “Oh my God…” She reached for him tentatively and he held out his hand but before she could take it she pulled back. “What are you doing here?”

His face fell a bit and his hand dropped to his lap. “Some stuff coming…the Powers That Be are a little nervous. Things happening, people switching sides… None of it looking very good for you lot.”

“Danger? For who?”

“All of ya, it seems. They didn’t get large with details,” he snorted, “imagine that.”

“Why didn’t they just send me a vision? I mean…not that I’m not happy you’re here…”

“They wanted to make sure you got this message loud and clear. I volunteered for the job, naturally… Trouble’s coming, Cor. You aren’t nearly ready for what’s around the bend.”

“People switching sides?” She frowned. “Wait. You mean someone’s going to come over to our side, or we’re going to lose someone to the evil?”

“Can’t say… Could be both, though. Just be ready, careful who you trust and who you…” He stopped abruptly, gazing at her with adoration. “God, Cordy…yer just beautiful, ya know that?”

She blushed softly. “I miss you,” she admitted.

“Do ya now? I been watchin’ you.” He pointed to the ceiling. “You know what that’s like. Tried to find you when you were floating about up there, but you went past even me in seniority.”

“You watched me?”

Doyle’s eyes twinkled and he winked. “Always, darlin’. Saw you with that Groosalog guy…he was quite the stud, eh? And then later…I could tell what was goin’ on with you…and Angel.”

Her affectionate smile faded. “Oh…”

“Gotta say, I was surprised…and then again, I wasn’t. Seems sorta natural. Knew I couldn’t even compete with the main guy in any real event…but it made me smile that ya loved me first.” He nodded. “I hope it works out for you, Cordy. You and Angel. I really do.”

“Doyle, there’s nothing going on between me and Angel,” she told him firmly. “I don’t think. It’s—it’s sorta confusing right now.”

He shrugged. “Shouldn’t be, from what I’ve seen. What? Just ‘cause that Slayer’s back in the picture for the next five minutes? The Cordy I know wasn’t afraid of a little competition…she knew what was rightfully hers. Hope you haven’t lost that, gorgeous. It’s one of the things I loved most about you.”

“No,” she sighed. “It’s…that, yeah, and a ton of other huge issues…and…” Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “I haven’t lost anything, bucko,” she said with mock anger. “I’m the same hard-as-nails bitch I’ve always been, and don’t you forget it. I’ve been training. I can kick your specter ass if you give me more lip.” She was smiling when she finished, and so was he.

“God, I miss that fire, love,” he chuckled. “Been awhile since I seen it, even from up there.” He leaned in just a bit. “And take it from me… You weren’t the only one I watched. The vampire’s got a few feelings up his sleeve for you, too. Just ‘cause some spell went haywire doesn’t change anything in the long run. If it can’t be me… I’m glad it’s him.”

Her entire face softened at his kind words. “Thank you,” she told him gratefully. “I’m not sure you’re right…I’ve got a lot of thinking to do, figuring out how I really feel. A lot seems to have changed in just a short time.”

He shrugged. “Isn’t that how it always happens. One minute I was ready to watch Angel go down, the next I’m kissing you and frying myself on the giant bug-light of death.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment before he stood. “I’d best be going now…much as I hate to leave this…leave you. Be good, kid.” Turning from her he headed for the door.

“I loved you,” she told him softly.

Doyle glanced back at her and smiled. “Don’t tell me…tell him.” With that, he disappeared before her eyes.

*~*~*

“I don’t get it, Will,” Buffy complained as she and her friend sat cross-legged on Willow’s bed, the redhead struggling to stay awake. She’d gone to bed hours earlier, along with most of their companions, only to be woken up by Buffy striding into her room a few hours later, ranting about Angel.

“I mean, one minute we’re…you know…and the next we’re talking, and it’s all great. And then I mention taking it easy, making sure we really know what we’re getting into, and he freaks. Totally blew me off and ran out the room. You’d think I’d asked him to marry me and see about getting a time-share in Tampa.”

“Well…I mean…things have been confusing lately, Buffy. Especially for him. Maybe something just…I don’t know, triggered it. Did you try to find him, talk about it?”

The Slayer nodded. “He’s no where to be found, and I don’t know the hotel well enough to hunt for him all night long.”

Willow gave in and yawned. “Tell me again what you said.”

Sighing, Buffy told the story again. “And then I said that we should take it slow, that I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I assumed he wasn’t,” she said knowingly, “’cause, you know…and that we should just see how things…Oh God.” Her eyes flew open and she grabbed Willow’s hand. “That’s it…”

“What’s it?”

“Willow…what if he’s seeing someone?”

Willow’s brow furrowed. “Really? Angel? He’s a vampire, which, yeah, I know…they date. But he’s Angel. Special case. Cursed. That would have to be one patient…”

“That’s gotta be it. He’s involved with someone else…and he bolted when I suggested…”

“Buffy,” Willow said cautiously, “This isn’t your fault…I mean if it’s true, which it just can’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong…”

Buffy glared at her. “I’m not feeling guilty, Will… This is me getting pissed.” She let out a harsh breath through her nostrils. “He’s seeing someone else, and he has the nerve to make me think…to do those things with….”

“Woah…okay,” Willow announced, jumping up from her spot on the bed to sit at Buffy’s side. “Hold on, breathe…breathe. You don’t know anything. This is totally wild speculation! I mean, Buffy…it’s Angel. The man took how long to get involved with you? And look how that turned out…you know what I mean,” she added off Buffy’s look. “You need to ask him what’s going on. Talk to him.”

Buffy stared at her friend for a moment before sinking back down onto the bed. “What if he’s seeing someone? Did I really just make a complete fool of myself? What if he just wanted…you know…a little…”

“Release?” Willow finished gently. “It could be…but Buffy, I really doubt it. Angel never did anything before without weighing the consequences for weeks at a time. It wasn’t too long ago that you were complaining about how slow he was when it came to laying the moves on you. Remember? Something about…oh, never knowing what’s going on in his head…he’s the hardest person in the world to get to know?”

Of course she remembered. Every single detail. Writing about “A” in her diary each night, fantasizing about him all day in school, dreaming of what it would be like to be near him, to kiss him, be held in his arms… She remembered, all right. Angel didn’t do anything without painstakingly, methodically, systematically thinking it through. Maybe that was all this was. They’d acted on impulse and, given that his last sexual experience had made him a father… The man might have had a right to be a little jumpy.

Or maybe not. “I’m still not sure…but there’s other things going on here, too… The Spike-mess, and Faith here, but not here…the Harbingers attacking Slayers. Not the best timing in the world, that’s for sure.” She let out a deep breath. “But I’ll talk to Angel, I promise.”

“Tomorrow?” Willow asked sleepily.

Buffy glanced at the clock, noted the late hour. “Oh…God…Will. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think…”

“Good night, Buffy,” Willow grinned.

Buffy smiled back. “’night.”

*~*~*

Dawn Summers should have been in bed. She should have been sleeping right this very minute, or at the very least reading in her bed, struggling to stay awake. She most certainly shouldn’t have been snooping about the hotel, more curious than a cat. She really shouldn’t have been following Faith, either. But the girl was never around, and no one knew where she went off too… When Dawn had come out of the kitchen earlier just in time to see Faith going up a set of back stairs…

Temptation had taken over. And here she was, wandering around in a dimly lit hotel. She’d lost Faith a while ago and was pretty sure the Slayer had known she had a tail, careful as Dawn might have been. So Dawn was wandering. The hotel was kinda neat, if she thought about it. Old, yeah, but fun to explore. Would have made a great haunted house.

…which brought to mind The Shining and really made her wish she was back in her room. Surrounded by all her friends and Mr. Rocko, the stuffed monkey she’d had since she was three.

“Whimper,” she whispered nervously as she headed down a hall in search of the stairs. Okay. So time to go to bed. Who knew what was lurking in this hotel? Angel couldn’t possibly keep tabs on the whole thing…unless, of course, he had one of those cool camera rooms, filled with tv screens of each hallway and all the major spots…like that ballroom she’d passed a while back, or the grand staircase. She’d have to ask about that. Spying was fun.

“You lost?” a voice came from behind her and she yelped, whirling around to find herself face to face with Connor.

Immediately her stance became defensive. “No. I was exploring.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “By yourself, in the middle of the night. In your pajamas.”

Dawn cast a sheepish eye down at her favorite pajamas, covered in cartoon penguins on roller skates. “Um…yes?”

“You’re lost,” he concluded gruffly. “Come on. The stairs are over here.” He turned and began to walk away without waiting for her.

“Wait!” she called, scrambling to catch up with him. “What are you doing up here, then?”

“I come in up here sometimes. The building behind this one is close enough to jump down to the seventh floor terrace.”

“Why are you on the roof?”

He glanced at her as they walked. “I was out patrolling. Sometimes you end up on the roof.”

She immediately felt stupid. “Oh, yeah. Of course. That happens with Buffy sometimes, too.”

He grunted then and her eyes narrowed a bit. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you still mad ‘cause she kicked your butt in the lobby?” she grinned.

His eyes whipped to hers. “It was a draw.”

“Yeah, right! She totally let you off easy.”

“Whatever.”

They walked on some more in silence before curiosity got the better of her. “So…you’re really Angel’s son?”

“Do you stop talking, ever?”

She cocked her head to one side. “No.”

Seeing that she wasn’t going to drop the subject, he nodded curtly. “Yes. He’s my father.”

“I’m taking it by the tone that you’re not happy about that. You sound like I just asked if Charles Manson was your dad.”

“Might as well be…if I knew who that was.”

“Oh…psycho killer guy,” she told him conversationally. “Headed a cult or something. Murdered lots of people.”

Connor considered. “Then…it’s a lot like having Angel for a dad, isn’t it?”

Dawn did a double take. “Are you serious? Angel’s way better than him. And he’s not a killer…anymore, anyway… I bet he’s a great dad.”

Connor snorted. “What do you know about it?”

“I knew Angel for a long time,” she told him. “He was always a nice guy…except that time, you know, when he lost his soul and tried to kill everyone in Sunnydale and Buffy had to kill him and send him to hell for a hundred years.”

He glanced at her sideways.

“He came back better,” she added, helpfully.

“Like I said,” he told her as they found the stairs. “It’s a lot like having Angel for a dad.”

Dawn went first, slippers slapping on the service stairs as she descended. “Why do you hate him so much? Angel’s a good guy. He was always nice to me.”

“That’s great for you, then.”

“Are you always this cranky?”

“I’m not cranky.”

“You seem cranky to me.”

“Maybe it’s because you won’t stop talking.”

“Jeez…sorry. Just trying to be friendly,” she muttered, feelings a little hurt. He pushed ahead of her and opened the door to the second floor. “You can get to your room from here.”

“Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.

He eyed her, considering. “Where are you going?”

“I was going to get a snack. I put a can of soda in the fridge earlier…it should be cold now.”

Connor appeared slightly crestfallen. “That’s where I was going,” he admitted reluctantly, and Dawn grinned.

“Not a fan of your dad’s, but you’ll come by to snark on his food?”

He raised an eyebrow, admitting nothing.

“Great!” she cried then, heading down the main staircase. “We’ll go together. I stuck some apples in there, too, if you want one. I love to make them with peanut butter smeared all over, and dipped in peanuts, but I couldn’t find peanuts in Angel’s kitchen, so I had to use coconut. Why do you think he’d have peanuts but no coconut? I mean, I guess it’s personal taste, but frankly I…”

She continued to ramble on, chattering away as if he was her own personal audience, as Connor just sighed and rubbed at his eyes, entirely unsure what to make of this chipper young girl.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
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