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"Uh, Nina?"

This wasn't right. He knew the hotel — his hotel — like the back of his hand. He could walk the corridors blindfolded, even those in parts of the building that they had barely inhabited before the great move to the Law Offices of Wolfram & Hart. And while the Hyperion had managed to avoid sustaining heavy damage or infestation like a majority of the buildings in Los Angeles, hell wasn't nearly this well-kempt. Especially not where his former mailing address was concerned. The carpets were vacuumed, the floors had carpets, mirrors and glass polished to a glare-free shine...

Not only did he appear to be in the wrong hotel, but the wrong dimension, and that was a problem. A big one.

This was the last thing he needed, whether it be an actual case of dimensional displacement or some trick the Senior Partners were pulling on him in retaliation for overthrowing the Lords. Not that they needed an excuse to meddle in his life. They were the masterminds behind his newfound liveliness in spite of what the heavy glamour that hid his humanity from everyone had to say about him. Angel was alive, but it was important that everyone still believed he was a vampire.

It's like he told Wes; there's only one way to get out of hell. Act like nothing's changed.

Which was why he stared at what he could see of the buffet table across the way, but made no move to approach it. Eating actual food in public? Dead giveaway. (No pun intended.)

He should probably find shoes. Somehow, walking out of his room in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants had topped his list of poorly thought out life choices this morning.

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Having her show concern and relief for his well being is new, but Angel's experience with Dawn wasn't always pleasant, given his history with his sister back in Sunnydale. He knew those memories were false, but he couldn't exactly be the judge of the monks' false constructions. Angel had consented to the altering of his own son's memories and that of his friends for the greater good of it all, for all their sakes. It was the only way to protect his son, to protect them. Much like it was the only way for the monks to protect the key that Dawn really was somewhere deep inside.

Or so he assumed.

"As long as you know how to wrap a decent bandage, I think we'll be okay."

"Good cause that much I can do." She offers with a lame sort of smile. Honestly, she could probably do more in that area, but Buffy shielded her so much that Dawn rarely saw the worst of the injuries that the Slayerettes had ever gotten or that Buffy herself had ever gotten. The most actual blood flow she had been around was when she had slit her own wrists, scars she still bore, when she had been wounded in the battle for the Seed, or when they had been battling the First Evil and several of the girls had come back bloody. And even then Buffy had tried to ship her off with Xander.

"So I'm thinking pocket dimension." She adds randomly, wide eyes looking around the lobby to indicate that she's talking about this entire place. "Or a dimensional hub in an all roads between worlds lead to here sort of way." Which was also a possibility.

"Do you need help finding your room or anything?" She asks, willing to do whatever he needs to settle in. Dawn, always helpful. Or hindering by helping. Depending.

"Or a holding dimension. Place off to the side of an infinite number of worlds to be misplaced in until you find the proper way back — though I wouldn't recommend trying to jump through a fireplace without verifying its wrathfulness."

...room? He hadn't even thought about finding a temporary place to rest his head. (Because everything here was going to be temporary in his book, as he was bound-determined to get back to hell and his son.) He'd slept or a few hours on Buffy's bed after passing out from a combination of alcohol and exhaustion after she stitched him up, but a bed of his own... Yeah, he should probably look into getting one of those. Somewhere he could be quietly human without anyone there to burst his faux vampire bubble.

"That depends on how game you are for going room shopping with me."

That another good theory. Dawn nods and quickly pulls another journal from the inside of her bag, flips through the pages and dots down Angel's idea on a new page with a few quick notes. All of it done with a purple glitter gel pen. "Good theory. I have a list. Well, it's a small list, just those three things on it. But three things makes a list, I think." She caps the pen and puts both journals away.

"Really?" The invitation to go with with him to find a room is unexpected. She had been pretty sure he wanted to get away from her as quickly as possible. That's what she gets for assuming things. Sometimes she falls back into those insecurities she had when she was younger, the ones where everyone leaves because their stuff is more important than her stuff, the ones where she's a nobody in a world of somebodies. But her eyes light up and she nods, clasping her book bag closed before she stands up. "I'd like that. The rooms are super hotel-y, but you also have to be careful cause some of them go into different worlds. Have you seen any of those yet?"

“You do know that I live in a hotel, right?” Claiming the Hyperion as home again comes naturally to him. Wolfram & Hart had never felt like it; he always felt like a temporary resident renting out a penthouse with a spectacular penthouse view (really spectacular) for an extended number of nights. “Super hotel-y is the standard.”

He shakes his head. “Not yet, but this isn’t my first trans-dimensional tango.”

She smiles a bit at that. She had known he had lived in a hotel at one time. She didn't know if that was still true or not. In her time it's way past the last time she had heard that he lived in a hotel. Maybe that could help her place which time period he was from. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, she was happy to spend some time with Angel and get to know him as more than what she knew him as and for him to do the same with her.

They start walking toward the elevators. "So you've litterally trans-dimensional tagoed from one hotel to another?"

“Very literally. Open a door in one hotel, only to step through it and find yourself in another. For a second, I thought I was on one of the floors we didn’t frequent very much.”

No he didn’t. He’d suspected instantly that things weren’t as they seemed, but the effort he puts into the light potshot at himself and the warm chuckle that follows is there. Things Angel’s gotten better at and has always been capable of doing: holding a decent conversation. Back in Sunnydale, he just didn’t have much to say that wasn’t relevant to the task at hand.

"As far as lots in life go, I'd say hotels are not a bad one. Unless they're dives cause then you never know what kind of ick you're getting into." Dawn rambles as they walk. If there's someone who's willingly hanging out with her to listen, she can ramble their ear off. "Luckily this one's kinda cool. Sometimes scary, but sometimes cool. And who does the sometimes scary better than ex-Sunnydale peeps, right? I just said peeps. Trying to be hip and cool." She glances at Angel. "So much failure on the hip and cool front, right?"

He steps into the elevator, shoving his hands in his pockets and waiting for her to push the button to whatever floor she's looking to take him to.

"I like Barry Manilow," he admits. "I think your peeps have one-upped me in the hip and cool department by at least a dozen."

Dawn presses the button for the top floor. After careful deliberation she and her sister had chosen the top floor of he hotel. The elevator car starts to move and Dawn looks to Angel. "Buffy and I decided to live on the top floor right by the exit stairwell cause of strategies. If this place starts to go all wonky, we can get to the stairs. But also we're away from the lobby where most people seem to arrive just in case people like Hell Goddesses come looking for Slayer or Keys."

It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Buffy had told her not to talk to anybody about her keyness since someone might take it upon themselves to use her. Or try to use her. "Keys I mean, that open doors cause you know this place is full of them. Doors."

"I know," he reminds her as the elevator doors closed behind them, "but I won't say anything."

As for where she and Buffy have decided to make a home for themselves in this place, he knows about that as well. Buffy had taken him there while he was still half-convinced this was Wolfram & Hart screwing with his head again in a crude attempt at making him lose it. She'd stitched him up in there and he'd passed out in her bed — not with her in it, of course. He hasn't stepped foot inside it sense, doesn't plan to again, and isn't letting Dawn in on the fact that he's been there before.

Dawn gives him a grateful half-smile. It's actually nice to feel like someone else here gets it and is on her side. Buffy's a sure thing, most other people were fifty-fifty. But Angel seemed to be alright now. "Plus there's the fact that the top floor is mostly abandoned. That's nice too. Less noise. You'll probably like it."

The elevator doors sweep open and Dawn steps out, looking left then right. "There's stairwell exits at either end and one in the middle that goes down and down and down. But we're over there to the left." She looks up at Angel, and my goodness she always forgets how tall he is. "I guess it depends on how close or far away you wanna be." Personally, she wants him close in case anything happens. But look at her holding her tongue for once.

She isn't saying it, but he's sensing it. There's a reason Dawn brought up her key qualities, former or not, and a concern over someone maybe, possibly trying to come for her like Glorificus had. He hadn't been around for that, off in another dimension seeing to his Champion-ly duties elsewhere. It was over before he'd really been made aware of it, the first he'd heard of the goddess trying to get home and the price Buffy paid to save her sister coming from a despondent Willow who met them in the lobby of the hotel when they returned from Pylea.

For the first time in forever, Angel makes a choice that puts him in proximity to Buffy that isn't because of Buffy.

"Maybe something at the other end of the hall?" He gestures with his head once they step off of the elevator.

If Dawn would feel better having an extra pair of eyes and hands nearby, he'll stick close. Helping people, after all, is what he does best. (Even when he doesn't.)

Edited 2014-04-09 01:47 (UTC)

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