Beep. Beep. The sound had lulled Angel to sleep, but every so often a sudden pain or wave of nausea ripped him away from his dreams. Not that he would complain. His dreams weren't made of fairytales with happy endings. Hell, he would've taken fanged monsters with claws or a high-speed chase. But no, Angel got to relive all the stupid bullshit he'd done and every dumb decision he'd made. His eyelids fluttered, but he couldn't really make out his surroundings. His fingernails gnawed at the medical tape holding the IV to his arm. For a second, he forgot about overdosing or being hospitalized. For a moment, he thought it'd been nothing more than a bad dream. One eye opened, then the other. It took a few tries before he could actually focus enough to see Jon sitting in a chair beside the bed with a hospital blanket curled around his body. So it wasn't a bad dream after all. "You stayed," Angel said in a gravelly voice. "I swore I would," Jon said, lifting his head from the back of the chair.
