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Part 1
Angel opened his eyes. He was prone upon the cold floor of the old mansion. Blinking several times, he moved his head slowly, taking in his surroundings. Pain shot though his body. With a stifled cry, Angle froze, praying that it would stop.
Gritting his teeth, Angel pushed himself onto his knees. He shivered as the wind howled through the broken windows. Off to the left next to the fireplace he saw a room. Crawling slowly, he found a large bedchamber. He pulled himself onto the bed and under the covers, letting the pain send him into blissful unconsciousness.
Angel woke to find his surroundings the same. Hunger infused his body as he lay still, waiting for his mind to begin functioning. When it did, Angel had two distinct thoughts: *Where am I?*
*Who am I?*
Angel dressed in dark pants and a black, v-neck sweater he found in the closet. He shivered slightly and rubbed his arms to chase the chill away. For some reason, he felt perpetually cold. It was if he had lived his whole life at the equator and suddenly had to move to the Yukon.
His body still protesting in pain, Angel slowly made his way out of the mansion and into the night. As he walked, he examined his surroundings. Nothing looked familiar. He felt like a newborn babe entering the world for the first time. He knew nothing of himself, other than the fact that his body hurt, he was cold and he was hungry.
Angel saw the first signs of life as he entered the business district of the town he was in. Teens of all shapes and sizes were headed towards a large, warehouse type club. Angel read the words above the door, happy to find that he could. He followed a group into the Bronze and froze, a strange sense of deja vu coming over him.
Music and voices assaulted his ears as he looked around the dim interior of the club. He saw kids dancing, playing pool or sitting around chatting amicably to each other.
"Mind moving?" a voice said from behind him. "You're blockin' the door."
"S-sorry," Angel said. His own voice startled him as he stumbled over the word. It was deep, rough, as if unused for a long time. He moved, staying in the shadows of the walls, observing the people around him. His gaze alighted on a group sitting in a corner. For some reason unexplainable to him, Angel felt drawn to the teens.
Letting his feet guide him, Angel walked slowly towards them, his steps still sending jolts of pain up his legs. They were talking animatedly to one another as Angel drew near. Stepping out of the shadows, he spoke his second word in what he somehow knew was a very long time. "Ex…hel…h-hello."
Angel watched as the conversation stopped suddenly. Heads turned and it was all he could do not to stumble backwards at the expressions littering the teens' faces. Fear, hate and, strangely, curiosity reflected back at him.
"Angel?" the blond asked with a trembling voice, her large hazel eyes filling with tears. The others just stared at him.
"D-do you know m-me?" Angel stuttered, speaking carefully. He was unsure of his words, his mind slow to comprehend and respond.
The dark headed boy stood swiftly, hate radiating from his body. Fists clenched at his sides, he swore. "Angelus. I had hoped you'd stay in Hell where you belonged."
"Xander," the blond stopped the boy. "Go call Giles."
"But-"
"Now," she said with force. The boy named Xander glared at him and stalked past, presumably to use the telephone. She put out her hand as if to touch him, then pulled it back sharply.
Angel didn't know what to make of the teens. He was about to say something when a shiver ran down his spine, sending bolts of pain lancing through him. He inhaled sharply through his teeth at the sensation.
"Angel, what's wrong?" The blond asked quickly.
"N-need to si-sit," Angel responded, moving to the chair Xander had vacated. The brunette seated in the next chair over tensed as he sat. Closing his eyes to the pain, he listened to the strained silence around him.
"What's Deadboy doing in my seat?" Xander asked, returning to the table.
Angel opened his eyes and looked at him. "W-who?"
"Buffy, I think he has amnesia," the red head told the blond.
Buffy looked at her friend, then back at Angel. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. "Who any of us are?"
Angel took in each of their features carefully, searching his brain. He shook his head. "No," he answered. "Sh-should I?"
"This is just an act, Buffy," Xander said. "Stake him before he kills someone."
"Xander, shut up," Buffy said sharply, glaring at him. Her gaze softened when it returned to Angel. "What's your name?"
"M-my name?" Angel stammered. "Did…did you n-not just call me Angel?"
"Yes, I did," Buffy replied.
"Is that…that my name?" Angel prayed that the blond would say yes because if she did, she must know him. She could tell him who he was.
"Yes," she said. "Your name is Angel."
Angel let out the breath he had been holding in relief. "You know m-me then," he said. "Good…good. I w-was afraid n-no one would."
"This is getting too wiggy for me," the brunette next to him said. "I'm bailing."
"Cordelia, wait," Buffy said, holding her hand up. "I think we all need to see Giles."
"I'm not letting him in my car," Cordelia said.
"We can take my van," the other boy at the table said.
"Thanks, Oz," Buffy said. "Angel, we're going to take a ride, ok?"
"Um…o-ok," Angel said. He stood with the others, body protesting. Buffy went to touch his arm again and hesitated. Angel looked down at her trembling hand, then back at her face. She stuck her hand in her pocket.
"C'mon," she said, leading at a quick pace. Oz and the red head had left already, as did Cordelia and Xander. Angel tried to hurry, but found he could not.
"W-wait," he called to her. Buffy stopped and watched as he moved slowly,
avoiding the other teens in the club. When he reached her, she adjusted her
pace to his and they left the Bronze.