She hung up the phone and turned to see Giles standing there, staring at her quizzically. She had never talked about Methos to any of her friends, including Giles. It was going to be difficult trying to explain just who he was and why she had kept him a secret. Even she wasn't sure. At first, she just hadn't wanted to talk about her summer away from Sunnydale because it reminded her too painfully not only of Angel, but of Methos who she thought she had also lost, though not to death.

Afterwards she just never saw the reason or the time to broach the subject. It never seemed important for one, but there was more to it than just that. She had wanted to keep Methos secret because she wanted to keep him close…keep him personal. She liked the thought that if something happened to her life, there was one person who didn't know any of the 'gang'…who would be there just for her, no ties, no questions asked. Truthfully she had never thought she would ever need to call that favour in, but it looked like now was that time. And Giles was looking like he wanted some answers.

"Who was that?"

"A friend," she answered, knowing it sounded vague, but not sure how else to describe him. "Just someone I know in Europe."

"Europe?" He sounded surprised. That was better than suspicion.

"I met him during the summer I ran away." She admitted, knowing it would do no good to make something up. "He gave me a place to stay. He's in France now."

"And you've made the decision that all of us should go there." He sounded angry about that. She found herself rubbing her eyes, just wishing she could lay down, go to sleep and not have to deal with any of this. She and Giles had been having problems ever since he came back from England with Willow and some potential slayers. Part of it was a case of Buffy finally breaking away from Giles as her father figure, but another part was Giles' betrayal and plot to have Spike killed, supposedly for the good of the mission. Even though she had officially forgiven him, the tension was still there, as well as the growing mistrust.

"We have to go somewhere." She answered reasonably. "He's willing to get us there. Look, I have a plan, but I want everybody together and settled before we can discuss it. If you don't want to come with us, the don't, but we're going to Paris."

"I never said I wouldn't follow you Buffy," Giles told her gently. She relaxed slightly, realizing she'd been a bit too defensive. "I just want to know why and where."

"And who." She supplied though the defensiveness was gone. He nodded slightly.

"Yes." He answered. "Am I asking something unreasonable?"

"No, you're not." She shook her head. "Look Giles, I'm hurt and I'm tired and I'm…still reeling. We…we didn't get everybody out." She blinked back the tears as the heartache hit her once more.

"That's not your fault Buffy," Giles laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. She did not want to feel better. She wanted to miss them. She wanted to hurt over Spike. It helped her to know that his life…his death had not been for nothing. As long as there was someone to mourn him, even if it was just one, then that goal was accomplished. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Look Giles, I don't want to talk about this. Not now. How are the others?"

"Still getting looked at, but it appears everyone will live." Giles switched his attention to business which relieved her. "We should be able to leave for Angel's by morning."

"Good," she said with a sigh. "Look I'm going to get some sleep."

"A solid plan," Giles said with a nod. "I'll look in on the girls one more time."

"Thanks." She said tiredly. She was suddenly more exhausted than ever.

Even though he knew that she was OK, Angel couldn't help but worry about Buffy and wonder why she didn't call from the hospital. Part of him was glad she didn't as he knew if she called he wouldn't be able to help asking her about Spike and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her answer over the phone. The other part however, hated waiting and wanted to get it over with, even if it meant learning that Buffy had chosen Spike.

Theoretically it shouldn't matter. He and Buffy hadn't been together for years and he had left so that she could choose a relationship that would be able to go further than there's had been able to. It shouldn't matter who she chose. And yet, it did. The idea of her with anybody else had always twisted in his gut, but the very thought of her with Spike was ten times worse. It wasn't that she had chosen him, but rather that Spike had gotten to be with her in ways that he could never be. That Spike of all people was allowed to hold her, to touch her, to lie down beside her…it killed a part of himself. He hoped that it wasn't true…that he was over-reacting, but some part of him knew that she had feelings for him that were stronger than he would like. And he had to wait for her to get there for the definitive answer.

Although tired, he didn't go to bed when the sun rose the next morning. He couldn't. Not only did he have to wait for Buffy, but the hotel itself was filled with people he didn't know, all of them young and newly called slayers. It was nice to have people in the hotel once more before they moved to their new position as head of Wolfram and Hart. He was still getting used to that idea.

He hadn't told any of Buffy's people about the change. He wasn't sure he could explain it in a way they would understand. It was odd. Once he had been a part of Sunnydale. A part of her world. Now there was just her world and his. Her people and his. He wondered when that rift had occurred.

He was jarred out of those particular thoughts by Faith standing in the doorway to his room. He looked up, and motioned for her to come in.

"B's here Angel," she said quietly.

"Thanks," He replied. He felt a new nervousness settle in his chest, as he headed down the stairs to the lobby. He searched the hallway, but didn't see Spike. He saw her though, and immediately wanted to approach her and take her in his arms. There was a sadness on her face that seemed to go all the way down to her soul. He hadn't seen that much grief in her since her mother's death and it worried him.

Behind her, stood Giles, a group of young girls (obviously the other slayers) and a tall black man who seemed to be looking for someone.

"Hey." His voice was quiet and he instantly wished he had said something different, something better. He had never been known for his eloquence, but the moment his eyes met hers, there was a loss of coherence in himself that happened every time he saw her.

"Angel," she seemed equally at a loss for words.

"The others are here," he said, talking quickly and trying to avoid eye contact. The haunted gaze was too much for him. If he wanted to keep himself at a distance he couldn't look at her. Not directly. "There's lots of room."

"Thanks," was her reply. She wouldn't look at him either. She turned to Giles. "Can you take the girls up to the rooms?"

"Certainly," Giles replied sensing she wanted to be alone with Angel. Once they were gone, he looked to her curiously.

"He's the new principal of Sunnydale High school," she supplied anticipating Angel's question about Principal Wood. "He really helped us in the battle."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. Thankfully she stepped in.

"Look, Angel thank you for taking us all in at such short notice. We…we won't be here much longer, so you don't have to worry."

"It's OK," he said quietly. "I like the company. It's been lonelier here recently." He was suddenly thinking of Connor, his son whom he had also given up to what would hopefully be a better life. He would never see Connor again and even if he did, Connor wouldn't know him. They had never managed to become close as father and son, yet Angel loved him all the same and it ate at him that he had to lose so much in such a short span.

"It won't be for long." She continued talking as if doing so would help to fill the awkward silence that suddenly filled the room.

"You're that eager to leave?" He didn't mean for it to sound as sharp as it did.

"This isn't my town Angel." She replied softly. She seemed so subdued it almost broke his heart.

"Sometimes I think it's not mine either." He replied with a subtle smile. She attempted a halfhearted one in response. "You're OK though?"

"Yea, the doctors stitched me up first thing and my special heal-y abilities have already kicked in." She smiled wanly. "I should be back to normal pretty soon."

"That's not what I meant." He said seriously. She nodded.

"I know."

He took a step towards her, wanting to touch her, but held back. She didn't move away, but he could tell her discomfort grew, the closer he got.

"I don't know what happened to you Buffy," he said, hoping she would fill in the blanks. When she didn't, he sighed and pressed on. "Are you ever going to tell me?"

"Maybe I don't want to talk about it," she said defiantly. He felt his shoulders slump.

"Where's Spike, Buffy?"

She flinched visibly this time as he said his name. Raw pain crossed her features before she could hide it and Angel felt at war with himself. Half of him wanted to comfort her, to take away whatever hurt that lived inside of her. The other half was angry…angry that her feelings for Spike could result in such hurt. It was petty, but he didn't want her to hurt like that for anybody but him.

"I don't want to talk about it Angel. Not to you." She sounded tired now, and in a way that wasn't physical.

"Why?" He barely got the word out. His body didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything that might cause him to hear something he didn't want to.

"Because I can't." She said sadly. "Believe me, I would if I could but…you wouldn't understand."

"You can tell me anything." He was grasping at straws now, but it was as if she were pulling away from him right in front of his eyes and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

"Maybe I could before, but not now." She swallowed tightly and looked away. "Not about him."

"You loved him." His voice was flat. Empty.

"Maybe," she whispered.

He felt his fists clench involuntarily. He tried not to feel the anger, but he couldn't keep it from bubbling to the surface.

"Fine." He said coldly. "I get it. Don't worry. Look, if he's waiting outside for you or something you don't have to stay here. My people will look after your slayers and you can do whatever it is you need to do."

"He's not waiting outside for me Angel," she shot back hotly. "He's dead OK?"Angel didn't know what to say. He was all ready to be furious with her, furious that she could love someone that he hated, but looking at the ache in her eyes made it impossible for that anger to come. No matter what the reason, he couldn't stand to see her in pain. And yet, how could he express that, without her knowing that part of him was relieved that Spike was dead?

"I…"

"Don't!" She hissed, suddenly furious. "Don't say you're sorry! Don't lie to me like that…not about this."

"It's not a lie Buffy," he said gently. "I am sorry you are hurting. Do you think I want to see you in pain?"

"Maybe not," she conceded, "but it's certainly better than seeing me with him, isn't it? It's what you're thinking so don't even pretend it's not."

"I don't know what I did to deserve your anger but you're not being fair." He spoke rationally, but it did not serve to calm her.

"I'm not? I'm not? Well I'm sorry that in my grief I didn't give more thought to your feelings." She bit her lip, but did not allow herself to cry. She was closing herself off, he could see it. It hurt immensely, as he had always been the one person she would not do that with.

"What can I say Buffy?" He asked helplessly. "What can I do to make it better?"

"Nothing," she finally whispered, her voice was weak and almost frightened. "You want to know why I'm angry? I know you don't want to hear this Angel, but part of me did love him. The amulet you gave me, I gave to him. It saved us all, but it killed him in the process. He was a hero. And I can't tell anybody. I can't lean on anybody. You used to be the one person who would be there, who would understand me, when nobody else could. And you can't on this one. There's nothing you can say that will seem completely sincere because I know how you felt about him. And I know that me having feelings for him hurts you. I don't want to hurt you like that, don't you see? Not only did I lose him, but you as well and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"I'm sorry," his voice was ragged now. He was unable to hide the regret. "I know you don't believe it, but I am sorry. I gave you that amulet. I didn't know what it would do, you have to believe me. If I did, I…"

"Don't." She put up her hand to stop him and shut her eyes, trying to block out his words. "Don't play the martyr here Angel, please. Don't tell me that you would have taken his place dying to save the world. I won't believe it."

"Why?" He asked her. "Do you really think that little of me?"

She shook her head swiftly and backed away, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

"No," she looked at him finally, her eyes bright with tears. "But I need to think that much of him. I need him to be a hero Angel. Can you understand that?"

"Yea," he said, a lump forming in his throat. Connor had needed that fantasy as well. Angel had sacrificed everything to give it to him and Buffy meant just as much. If that's what she needed, he would do whatever it took. "I get it. Look, I know you don't want to talk to me about it, but I am here…if you need it. Just…please, believe that."

"I do." She told him with the first genuine smile he had seen since she arrived. "And I will."

"Willow and Xander are upstairs." He told her, taking a step back. "If you want to regroup and plan your next move, you can use one of the hotel conference rooms."

"Thanks." She nodded stiffly and the walls were back up. He sighed and moved out of her way as she headed upstairs to find her friends.