Buffy avoided Angel's hospital room the next day, not sure what he would say to her or what she could possibly say to him to help him make sense of his situation. It unnerved her that he could still feel the connection between them even without his memory and vampire senses. However, she could no longer keep herself away when Fred and Gunn brought him home the next morning. Although Buffy was rather unobtrusive sitting on the couch waiting for Angel's return due to all the people milling around the lobby, Spike noticed her. He noticed that her eyes were locked to the doors of the courtyard and that they widened in delight and amazement when she spotted Angel walking through the sunlight.

"Bloody poof," he muttered before wandering off for parts unknown.

Angel entered the hotel and was quickly introduced to the people who hadn't come to the hospital and then, he was given a tour of the hotel. He trailed behind Fred who was animatedly telling him all about the different rooms and items, but he wasn't really hearing her. Instead, he was looking around the building and suddenly feeling extremely lost and lonely. This was his home and none of it was familiar. Even when Fred showed him to his own room, all his possessions were foreign to him.

Slowly, he explored his suite, picking up items to examine them before putting them back in their place. His room was very neat and clean but extremely dark.so he pulled the heavy drapes away from the window and let in the natural light. The sun glinted off metal, drawing his attention to several swords and axes that were hung on the wall. An interesting collection to have, he thought. He started perusing the things on the top of his desk - more books, some pens and paper, a framed photo of himself, Fred, Wesley, Gunn and a brunette he didn't recognize. Then, he started going through the drawers.

In the bottom drawer, he found a case of charcoal pencils and a pad of paper. Beneath that, he found stacks of sketches. He lifted them out and started flipping through them. There were several cityscapes and nature scenes. He admired a series of drawings of the beach at night, pleased that he possessed such skill. There were also portraits of his friends and several demonic looking creatures that his imagination must have come up with. But mostly he found sketches of Buffy. There were pages and pages of them, depicting her in a variety of situations and points of view - her sleeping form entangled in sheets; her dancing with her arms held above her head; her doing some sort of karate, her leg kicking in the air against an invisible opponent; many pictures of her face showing a wide assortment of emotions. His favorites were one of Buffy grinning wickedly, her eyes sparkling as if sharing a private joke with him and another in which she looked dreamily out of the page, her eyelids at half mast and her lips parted as if she had just been thoroughly kissed. As he worked his way through the pile he came across a large collection of etchings illustrating the petite blonde in a mélange of intimate poses. His eyes feasted on the image of her nude body laid out in different manners and of her engaged in a variety of sexual positions with Angel himself, her face obviously showing the pleasure she found in his arms. He gaped at the sketches of her wanton figure, feeling the stirrings of arousal within him. She was absolutely gorgeous.

"Angel?" The sound of Buffy's voice behind him caused him to start. He quickly dropped the sketches back in the drawer and slammed it shut. He turned to her, blushing furiously at being caught looking at the representations of her nakedness even though she had no way of knowing what he had been doing.

"Hey."

"Hey. I just wanted to make sure you were finding everything okay."

"Yeah. It's fine." Buffy couldn't take her eyes off him. His cheeks were flushed with color and his auburn highlights were obvious in the ray of sun he was standing in. He was absolutely gorgeous. She felt the pull low down in her stomach that she always felt towards him. Her mind couldn't help but imagine how wonderful it would be to go over to him and take him in her arms, to feel his heated skin against hers for the first time. He would kiss her, soft and sweet, and then harder slipping his tongue into mouth and entangling his elegant fingers in her hair.

"Buffy?" She rudely was broken away from her fantasy and realized Angel had been speaking to her.

"What?"

"I just wanted to apologize for what I asked you the other day. I shouldn't have assumed anything about our relationship and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"It's all right. You couldn't have known and I'm not uncomfortable." She wasn't exactly telling the truth. She was uncomfortable around him; she just didn't know how to act around a memory-lacking Angel. There had always been walls between them, barriers of species, age, and history. But now, when he looked at her without the shadow of hurt in his eyes, without the sadness weighing down his voice, she found all the rules of their interaction thrown out the window. "So yeah, if you need anything, we're all down stairs. I'll let you get settled."

Over the next few days, Buffy found herself spending more and more time with Angel. She kept telling herself that it was only because she wanted to help him get his memory back and the only inkling of recollection he had was what he had felt for her. But in fact it was because she loved spending time with him. He had told her once that he was funny and she discovered that he was right - well sort of. His jokes were cheesy but they still made her laugh. And she was nearly addicted to the sight of him in sunlight.