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Buffy lay as a small heap on the bed in Angel’s apartment staring off into space. She still couldn’t believe that he was gone…again. Just when she thought she was over sending him to Hell he reappeared, only to be gone before she had the chance to really love him.
Spike had finally managed to leave with the insane female vampire in tow. He had bent down to the Slayer as she crouched, still unmoving in the library and told her how sorry he was. He meant every word.
Her friends had tried to talk to her, but Buffy moved as if she was dead. Willow had told her mother what happened and Joyce called Buffy out of school sick. Principal Snyder was not thrilled.
Another wave of pain washed over her, and Buffy began to cry again. She curled tightly into a ball, holding the pillow that just the night before Angel had lain with her, had loved her. She inhaled the scent that was uniquely his and sobbed into the night.
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?*
*Buffy.*