His head began to throb, aching. In confusion, Angelus slowly opened his eyes, unsure of what to do next. Reality drifted away as he gazed into the irises of the Slayer. Hope brimmed from her eyes and burned through her soul. She starred into his eyes--

Looking for Angel.

...I'm no Angel.

Her love-filled stare agonized him, causing him to realize his desire: to have and destroy the Slayer. She called out to his weaker side, his soul, through her eyes.

His conscious was steadily returning, along with his full memory. Gradually, logic returned to him as the spirit left his domain completely.

Head cloudy...vision blurred…

Angelus remembered it all in a flash. Possessed by a strange evil, he was tricked into coming to Sunnydale High. Thinking Buffy was 'dancing with death' as Drusilla kindly put it, he had come to destroy her--end the affliction that tortured his mind. Ironically, fate had turned on him.

His head muddled from the instant knowledge, he continued to stand in the embrace even though he knew it was with Buffy. He couldn't pull himself away, even though the spirit had left his head alone. He couldn't tear his eyes off of her, she haunted his head and now she was here--

Looking for Angel.

He was repulsed at the love they shared, angered at the way she so easily made Soulboy feel human. The infuriation tore at him but he left it inside, still clouded at what was happening and what had happened.

Gradually, his logic came tumbling back as he felt the spirit leave his mind and body completely. The disgusting display of emotion called *love* had brought Angel down, and it was doing the same to him. He felt this useless affection because of that pathetic soul. No, it wasn't affection, he denied to himself.

I don't feel anything but passionate hate.

It was hate for Buffy, hate for Angel, hate for everything they shared.

The moment after Buffy had called his name, Angelus snapped. He realized what was going on, where he really was. His mind returned to normal, his thoughts only pure instinct and rage.

With a deep growl, he shoved her into a wall and turned on his heels, running down the corridors and never looking back. The pitter-patter of his own two feet echoed through his head, mixing in with the thoughts in his head.

What possessed him wasn't just a demon. No, his head hurt too much after that. It was--

Love.

Love had destroyed his pride, sent him running away from the Slayer instead of killing her. Angelus knew what Angel felt for Buffy and it shamed him, killing him slowly. He ran through Sunnydale High's exit and entered the dark streets, not only running from the love but the humiliation.

He couldn't stay. He didn't want his infamy, his agony, or his desire reflected off the Slayer's eyes. The same light green, hazel fused gloss eyes that haunted him day and night.

In that instant of confusion, of manipulation, Angelus knew he had failed to keep his--

Angel's.

desire in check. He fully understood the power she held over him--

ANGEL! Not me--Angel.

Shaking his head, he decided that was the last time. The last time he dealt with Buffy. It would have to be.

Unhurriedly, Angelus eased into a brisk walk, feeling the mortifying thoughts melt away. The night air gave him a clearer chance to think about other things than Buffy.

Buff's the only thing I think about.

No. She's not.


He convinced himself that what he felt was because of Angel. It was the damned soul's fault, no his. He didn't love her--he *couldn't* love her. He would ignore the Slayer--

not completely

and focus more on other things. Bigger things, like the human race. Even though he tried to deny it (like he denied his true feelings for *her*), destroying the world would be fun--yet he was more interested in Buffy. If he had to pick he'd destroy her instead, just to get rid of the pesky feelings he supposedly felt. The human race and their *emotions* would have to go, and Angelus knew he would be there to watch as Buffy and the rest of mankind burned.

She will suffer.

Angelus flashed back to the time he informed Spike and Drusilla that he was back, at the old warehouse. Spike had asked the question,

"You've really got a yearn to hurt this girl, haven't you?"

She made me feel like a human being.

That's not the kind of thing you just forgive.

It was intoxicating. The desire had burned past his soul and onto his demonic side. It drove him to the brink of insanity. If the Slayer were gone, the passion would be, too.

Maybe.

Angelus' world would be different. Maybe, he'd truly be free. He wouldn't have to be a slave to the obsession any longer, wouldn't have to watch her sleep or watch her with her friends.

Maybe.

Without passion, could he remain sane? He would be hallow without desire. Angelus knew he would find another.

There's no one like her.

With her gone, his thoughts would be deadly instead of pure. His emotions would cease. Disappear forever and he could stay sinful once more, with a need for revenge.

No love.

No Angel.

No Buff.

He smirked to himself, thinking dreadful thoughts as he dissolved into the deep shadows of night, letting only his eyes show. Stopping in his tracks, Angelus turned and faced the school from a distance. It would be several hours before the sun came up, and he knew he could make it to the mansion in time. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't love or desire that made him watch--it was hate. Revenge. All the things he was known for. Besides, after he watched her, he would go to Drusilla like Buffy never existed.

Dru would be up for a bite.

Give me a chance to clear my mind out.

Angelus couldn't see her, but he could feel her. Feel her sorrow, her sadness. It gave him life. A little. He could stay and picture her in his mind, his dreams, everywhere except reality. For now he remained standing, with eyes shut before walking backwards into the darkness.

Soon, Buff.

Soon.