(no subject)
Angel sat silent in the room allocated to him in Dawn's place. The room was ... different from anything he had become used to of late, but it did remind him of his room at Wolfram and Hart. Clean, spacious, modern and not black in colour.
What was he doing here? This wasn't a place for him. He would have just as well been better off staying in LA in the hotel, trying desperately to get some custom to the one vampire business. Clearly Dawn only wanted him here to try and patch things between him and Kathy - which to be honest he wasn't to happy about doing, why should she talk to him again? He hurt her so badly, said he'd be there for her and help her in this huge world she'd become lost in. The only thing he had helped was himself - and not very well.
Dawn and especially Spike were aggravating him. Treating him like a child, some wounded soldier. Like he told her, he wasn't a baby. He certainly didn't need their sympathy or want it for that matter. Angel was done with playing the fallen hero. It was time he took the blows as they came, what was one more broken dream on the huge scale of things? Not a lot.
Angel's eyes had darkened with his mood since the battle at Wolfram and Hart. Instead of their usual mysterious - and ironically wood colour, they were dark, almost black. He lifted his eyes to the telephone sitting on the table beside him, he pulled the piece of paper from his coat pocket with Wes' number written on it, he skimmed over it once, then dialed the number.
Things with him and Wes were - complicated to say the least. The memories were fresh in his mind.
At night, alone in the dark - sometimes he craved him.