Buffy set the cup of tea on the kitchen table and folded her hands in
her lap. "Thanks, Willow. I don't know what I would have done without you
the last three days. Please tell all the nurses and staff members how much
I appreciate the food they brought." Casseroles and homemade dishes
covered the island in the center of her kitchen. So much food that she had
no appetite for.
"Who was that man talking to you before you left?" Willow asked.
Buffy blew into the tea to cool it. "His name is Spike Courtland. He's a new psychiatrist at the center."
"Spike? It looked like he upset you."
Buffy shrugged. "He came here to work with Angel." She didn't want to tell her the rest, how his touch had given her the strangest feeling. How just looking into his deep blue eyes had been unnerving. Willow would think she was crazy.
"I'm so sorry, Buffy." Willow leaned over and hugged her. "I know how much you wanted things to work out for you and Angel."
Buffy nodded, warming her hands on the oversize mug and rolling her shoulders. Tension clawed at her, the lack of sleep and emotions over the past few days finally wearing her down.
"You look exhausted. Drink that and get some rest." Willow grabbed her yellow raincoat. "And call me if you need me."
"I will. You be careful." Buffy rose and latched the lock on her front door, her eyes narrowing when she glanced out the window and watched Willow sprint to her car. Seconds later Willow climbed into her Volvo and drove away, rain spewing from the back of her car as she sped towards the apartment she rented at SRC. Buffy let the curtain slip back in place, but a dark sedan across the street drew her eye. It was parked beneath a palm tree, casting it in shadows made worse by the dark sky. She peeled the curtain back and studied the vehicle for a moment, trying to see if someone was inside. Had she seen the car in the neighborhood before? Could it belong to one of the neighbors? People she'd never met because she and Angel had both been too busy at work to entertain? Too busy trying to hold their marriage together?
Except for those last few weeks when he'd moved out, when she'd sensed he was giving up...
Had she seen the car while he was gone?
After several tense seconds, she decided she must be getting paranoid. The car was empty. And there was no reason for anyone to be lurking outside her house. No reason anyone would follow her or want to harm her. After all, Angel's death had been accidental, not suspicious.
Chuckling at her runaway imagination, she carried her tea to the bedroom, bypassing Angel's closet with a tentative glance. At some point she had to sort through his things and clear them out. At least what he hadn't taken with him when they'd separated. But not tonight. She was too battered by Angel's funeral.
She slipped beneath the covers and finished her tea. Weariness pulled at her, but the uneasiness she'd felt earlier rose again to taunt her. Could someone have been outside watching her? And if they had, who were they?
She couldn't quite forget the trouble surrounding the research center just a few short weeks ago.
That Quentin Travers, the CEO and cofounder who'd been behind the unsavory sale of some of their research, might not dead as the police hoped. That his body had never been found.
That Angel had been working on something secretive the last few months, something that had made him jittery and even more closed off from her than before. And that stranger who had recently been in an accident of some kind himself, but who'd taken her husband's place at the hospital.
A man who had come out of nowhere.
"Who was that man talking to you before you left?" Willow asked.
Buffy blew into the tea to cool it. "His name is Spike Courtland. He's a new psychiatrist at the center."
"Spike? It looked like he upset you."
Buffy shrugged. "He came here to work with Angel." She didn't want to tell her the rest, how his touch had given her the strangest feeling. How just looking into his deep blue eyes had been unnerving. Willow would think she was crazy.
"I'm so sorry, Buffy." Willow leaned over and hugged her. "I know how much you wanted things to work out for you and Angel."
Buffy nodded, warming her hands on the oversize mug and rolling her shoulders. Tension clawed at her, the lack of sleep and emotions over the past few days finally wearing her down.
"You look exhausted. Drink that and get some rest." Willow grabbed her yellow raincoat. "And call me if you need me."
"I will. You be careful." Buffy rose and latched the lock on her front door, her eyes narrowing when she glanced out the window and watched Willow sprint to her car. Seconds later Willow climbed into her Volvo and drove away, rain spewing from the back of her car as she sped towards the apartment she rented at SRC. Buffy let the curtain slip back in place, but a dark sedan across the street drew her eye. It was parked beneath a palm tree, casting it in shadows made worse by the dark sky. She peeled the curtain back and studied the vehicle for a moment, trying to see if someone was inside. Had she seen the car in the neighborhood before? Could it belong to one of the neighbors? People she'd never met because she and Angel had both been too busy at work to entertain? Too busy trying to hold their marriage together?
Except for those last few weeks when he'd moved out, when she'd sensed he was giving up...
Had she seen the car while he was gone?
After several tense seconds, she decided she must be getting paranoid. The car was empty. And there was no reason for anyone to be lurking outside her house. No reason anyone would follow her or want to harm her. After all, Angel's death had been accidental, not suspicious.
Chuckling at her runaway imagination, she carried her tea to the bedroom, bypassing Angel's closet with a tentative glance. At some point she had to sort through his things and clear them out. At least what he hadn't taken with him when they'd separated. But not tonight. She was too battered by Angel's funeral.
She slipped beneath the covers and finished her tea. Weariness pulled at her, but the uneasiness she'd felt earlier rose again to taunt her. Could someone have been outside watching her? And if they had, who were they?
She couldn't quite forget the trouble surrounding the research center just a few short weeks ago.
That Quentin Travers, the CEO and cofounder who'd been behind the unsavory sale of some of their research, might not dead as the police hoped. That his body had never been found.
That Angel had been working on something secretive the last few months, something that had made him jittery and even more closed off from her than before. And that stranger who had recently been in an accident of some kind himself, but who'd taken her husband's place at the hospital.
A man who had come out of nowhere.