Angel was thinking furiously. He had a feeling he should probably figure out what was going on before this beautiful person beside him woke up. He tore his eyes away from her lovely face and looked around at his surroundings. The opulence of the huge bed and the room in which it sat was almost ludicrous, in light of the fact that the place he had fallen asleep had been a dumpster in Manhattan.
He looked down at himself, and found himself somehow clothed in silk pajamas. He had been wearing the same set of clothes for months, and now he was dressed in silk. Furthermore, he was clean, which was not the way he remembered himself being for a long time. He reached up to touch his head, and found that his hair was shorter than it had been yesterday. In moving his arm, Angel was astonished to find that although he was a bit sore and stiff, he was much stronger than he was accustomed to. More than that, there was something very different about him, something he was having difficulty putting his finger on--
He suddenly realized what was different. The dull ache of constant hunger that he had lived with for years was gone, yet he didn't remember feeding...
Filled with panic, Angel reexamined the sleeping beauty beside him. She was awfully pale, after all. Had he fed on her? 'Please, no, no!' he thought, and he reached over to check her for bite marks. He brushed her fiery hair away from her neck (ye gods, it's softer than these pajamas), but didn't see any telltale holes. He could hear her heartbeat, so he knew she was alive, but he needed to check the other side of her neck.
It was the insistent prodding of cold fingers on her tender skin that made Willow wake up.
******
Angel flinched back as her long eyelashes fluttered open. 'Look, her eyes are so beautiful-' he thought.
"Angel!" Willow squealed. He didn't know how to respond, but it didn't really matter. Willow leapt across the expanse of the bed to hug him tightly.
"Ohmygoodness Angel, we were so worried, we didn't know if you were going to wake up, and I had to be all confident for Buffy or she would have freaked but I just didn't know what to do..." as she babbled on about how happy she was to see him, Angel tried to process the things she was saying.
'She knows me. I was unconscious. There is some person named Buffy.' He tuned back in to Willow's excited monologue.
"...it's not like there are any doctors for vampires, so we just had to do what we thought was best, and we fed you blood and just kept hoping eventually you'd wake up but what are you supposed to do with a comatose vampire anyway? Comatose for humans is like, no vital signs, but you don't have those anyway and I'm so happy that you're awake! Don't ever do that again- I was so worried!"
Her face that had been pressed into his chest lifted up to look at him, and he could see that her cheeks were wet with joyful tears. "Oh, Angel, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't hurt you, I was just so glad. Are you feeling okay? Can you sit up? Does your head hurt?" She helped Angel into an upright position as she spoke. He leaned against the pillows she arranged behind his back, wishing with all his might that he had some idea who she was. Whoever she was, she was probably the most gorgeous woman he had ever-
"Angel? Is that alright? Say something." He wished he could go on with this pretense of intimacy, but realized that he couldn't keep it up. He gave a slight shake of his head.
"I'm sorry, I can tell that you seem to know me, but," he paused, hoping something would make him remember. Nothing.
"Who are you?" Willow sat back with a thump.
"Who am I? Angel, are you kidding? You never were much for jokes, at least not when you had a soul, so now is not really a time to start." "What do you mean, when I had a soul? How do you know about my soul?" "Angel, I'm the one that restored your soul. How could I not know about it?"
"You're a gypsy?" "No, of course not, I just performed the gypsy curse again, and you know all this. Come on Angel, tell me you're joking." "I don't see- I don't understand- What do you mean you performed it again?"
"After you lost it, it seemed like the best way to save you." Angel's confusion was growing at every comment this young woman made. "After I lost what? What do you mean, save me?" Willow felt tears threatening.
"Your soul Angel, you lost your soul. When you and Buffy... do I have to say it? You know what I'm talking about!" Angel plucked at the bedclothes in frustration.
"I don't even know who you are, Miss, let alone what you're talking about."
Willow looked into his eyes, wishing they registered anything but blank confusion.
"Angel, it's me." No hint of recognition flashed in his fathomless eyes.
"It's Willow." Angel felt guilty, knowing he was the reason for the new tears flowing down her cheeks, wishing he knew how to make them stop. "I'm sorry, Willow, I just don't recall having ever met you before."
Willow realized something.
This was very bad.
****