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Waiting
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Angel got out of the bed with the sheet tangled on his right foot. Shaking it off as he walked toward the bathroom, his eyes remained closed. Vampire instinct guided him to the shower, shampoo and soap. Photographic memory led him back to his dresser, he pulled out a shirt and a pair of trousers by touch. Everything he owned was dark-colored, he didn't have to worry about matching. Stepping into his shoes, which were kicked off carelessly the night before, Angel left his apartment. He entered the elevator and pressed the button on the bottom of the panel.

He made it to his office quickly, nodding briefly at the employees who bid him good morning and ignoring Harmony's cheerful, "How's it hanging, boss?"

During the whole process, he kept his eyes closed.

Someone was at the door, he could feel it. A deep inhale of air informed him that the visitor was Wesley.

"What do you want, Wes?"

"Angel," Wesley approached slowly, his steps on the hard-wood floor echoed in the vast room.

Angel counted the steps in his mind, estimating the distance between them.

"What you're doing, it isn't..." He paused, pondering his word choice, "healthy."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Almost in a childish manner, Angel twirled away in his chair.

"Really?"

The vampire frowned at the obvious sarcasm. "I..."

Wesley interrupted, "Let's see, you haven't opened your eyes once since Spike left and you refuse to leave the building. And I need to know why. We're worried." The underlying message of committing Angel to a mental-help institute was clear.

"I don't open my eyes because..."

"Because?" Wesley prompted, when the vampire stop mid-sentence.

"I can't stand to not seeing him here, Wes!" Abruptly, Angel stood up, knocking the chair over in his haste. "Knowing that he wandered every part of this building! Hell, he haunted it! And now he's not here... Expecting to see him..." Throughout his passionate words, Angel's eyes clenched closed.

"Then leave, get some fresh air."

"What if he comes back? And I was gone?" A broken whisper.

"So what now? You're going to sit here and wait?" Stunned, Wesley gasped.

Angel's silence answered the question.

"What if he doesn't come back?" Resignation was evident in his tone.

A wry grin broke out on Angel's face. "How would I know that unless I wait?"

No other words were spoken after that, and the soft click of the door was the only indication that Wesley had left.

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That night, Angel made his way up to his penthouse, stripped off his shirt and pants and climbed into the bed.

Before he drifted off to sleep, he reached out a tentative hand and touched the plane ticket stub on his nightstand.

Briefly, Angel wondered what might happen if he had told Spike to stay when the blonde insisted on going to England. He wondered what everything would be like if the plane hadn't crashed.

Sleep was the only comfort.

The next morning, he repeated his routine. Showering, dressing, ignoring Harmony and sitting down in his leather chair.

He leaned back into the plush material and waited.

~ END ~