A/N: Sorry it took a little while. I think I'll be posting around this time every other week from now on, so I can alternate between the fics I have going and hopefully finish some of them.
Summary etc: If you don't know by now, go back to the first page!
One month later
Buffy woke up on Sunday morning slowly, gradually becoming more alert as the light filtering through the window made it impossible to stay asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realised she wouldn't have to work today. It had been so difficult over the past month. Dreams of her encounter with Angel had been plaguing her at night, all ending with him waking and throwing her off, telling her she was a whore, that he never wanted to see her again, that she had violated him. It had made her daily shifts at the hospital unbearable – to work with him, changing his sheets, checking his vitals, and avoiding his conversations had become the lowest part of her day, instead of the highlight it had once been. She longed for the days when she could breeze around, as if she had no cares in the world, brushing off the male attention with flippant comments and a smile. What had this man done to her? Since that night, all she could think about was Angel, his face, his eyes, his hands, his… 'Okay, not going there. Bad Buffy.' But she could never have him. And after that night, she had tried so hard to get over this obsession, but it was impossible. Her soul ached for him, and the worst part was, the most amazing experience of her life wasn't even remembered by this man. If he even thought about it, surely he thought it was a dream. Sighing again, at the bleak, desolate wasteland that her life had become, Buffy rolled over, and tried to fall back to sleep.
Angel rolled over in his bed. It was Sunday, meaning that Buffy wouldn't be in. As much as Angel missed the sunny personality she used to exude, this new, quiet Buffy was better than no Buffy at all. Over the past two months, Angel had gradually fallen in love with the blonde nurse. Desperately trying to hide his feelings, he had cultivated an apathetic, flippant shield around himself after that wonderful night. Her muttered words as she left the room had hurt Angel more than he cared to admit, and subconsciously he was trying to punish Buffy by acting as if he didn't remember the night, that he thought it was a dream. For her to then dismiss him so callously, acting as if she thought no more of him than the sheets she changed, hurt even more, and Angel found himself withdrawing. His initial efforts to start conversations were abandoned, and now when she came in to work, they were both silent other than the usual platitudes. But even in silence he could watch her, and when she wasn't there he found himself aching for her presence, as if a part of him were missing. The fact that he was dreaming about their encounter didn't help – every morning he woke from vivid dreams that began with her writhing on top of him, and always ended in the same way. When their passion was spent, Buffy would rise, tell him that he was a means to an end, and then leave him lying there, in that hospital bed. The truth was, Angel loved Buffy. But he couldn't admit it, even to himself.
Buffy lay back on the couch, her head in her hands. How could she have been so god-damned STUPID! It had been over a month… Rolling onto her side, she began to cry, great, wracking, shuddering sobs. How had her life become this? Yes, once it had been everything she wanted. And it still was. But not like this, never like this. A product of a stupid mistake, a night she wanted to forget? However, her doctor had been very clear. Buffy was over a month late. When she had slept with Angel, she had been fertile, and they hadn't used any protection. Buffy was pregnant, with Angel's child. 'God, can my life get ANY more fucked up?' She couldn't tell him. Hopefully by now she had enough leave to take time off before she began to show. And maybe, by then, Angel would be well, and she would be able to bring up her child without hurting the man that she loved. She realised that as much as she hadn't planned this, she was glad she had this child, as proof of her love for Angel. Even if he would never know.
Angel fell back onto the pillows in shock. He was being transferred? Evidently, they thought he was well enough to be sent to a different convalescent hospital, one in Florida that specialised in rehabilitating those who had suffered 'cerebral trauma', as they put it. Basically, it was the equivalent of a half-way house. They would help him find a job, a place to live, and make him into a productive member of society again. He would be leaving in two days. Two days… Suddenly, blonde hair and blue-green eyes flashed within his mind. Buffy. He hated what their relationship had become, but to never see her again? The thought made Angel's soul ache. He would never see the blonde Angel that had nursed him back to health again. Never see the twinkle in her eyes, hear her laugh… Angel closed his eyes in grief. He couldn't say anything to her, not after a month of silence. He would just live the rest of his life, cherishing a memory of that one tumultuous night, and he prayed that that would be enough.
