I, Angelus

Summary: A demon familiar to all of us rails against his fate and his worst enemy.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed here, they remain the property of their respective owners/creators.

Rating: PG-13, for themes and language.

Time Frame: After "I Will Remember You" (this is your spoiler warning, folks).

Archiving: Be my guest, but e-mail me (eilandesq@aol.com) to let me know. . .I like to know where stuff I write ends up and I might want to see what else you've got.


You bastard.

You had me right where you wanted me, didn't you? A little Mohra demon blood, and bad old Angelus was sent packing, leaving you as what you always wanted to be. . .just another pathetic human.

Yes, you didn't waste any time in reveling in your newfound humanity, did you? Stuffing your face with human food, tracking down Buffy so that you could screw her silly without fear of having me step into the driver's seat. . .oh yeah, you had a good old time, didn't you?

Until you got your ass handed to you by the Mohra demon, right? You'd think you'd have learned from the misfortunes of that annoying Xander kid. . .most humans are easy picking for demonkind. You would have been seriously dead if Buffy hadn't recovered from afterglow long enough to save your ass.

You had really screwed things up. . .let's be honest, the First Evil had you pegged right. You were a pathetic excuse of a man when Darla found you. . .it was the most improbable twist of fate that her little whim resulted in turning me loose on the world. . .life's funny, isn't it? You know what I regret most about that damned curse being cast on me again? It's that I failed to take the opportunity to tell Buffy that you've been a fraud all along. . .your given name isn't even Angelus. Darla gave me that name, and you know it. It would have been less fascinating to a certain dewy eyed Slayer if you had introduced yourself as Martin O' Reilly instead of Angel, wouldn't it?

Admit it, my name isn't all you've benefited from, is it? The whoring drunkard who ran into Darla never could have captured Buffy's heart. . .or the rest of her. What you are, whatever good you have been able to accomplish in spite of my best efforts. . .you owe to me, the inhuman monster that you spend your days and nights cursing and brooding about. It was the sheer horror at what I had done that turned the spineless loafer into the dashing crusader that Spike had so much fun mocking. . .not that he hasn't been a great disappointment to me. At least Dru had the sense. . .funny concept, Dru having any sense. . .to cut him loose. I gather he's been neutered now. . .pity, even with his pathetic desire not to see the world destroyed, he always managed to do a lot of damage on his own. . .even took out a couple of Slayers. Not that I couldn't have done that myself, of course, but it was always so much more fun to play with them. . .oh well, you'll slip up someday, and I'll have a chance to rack up a new body count of my own.

So you went crawling back to those geeky "Hercules" rejects and found out the score: without you around, Buffy buys it. Well, duh. Slayers die like flies, and Buffy would have been deader than disco over two years ago if you and all of those annoying children weren't saving her ass every other week. Any sensible creature would have chalked it up to fate, but nooo. . .you had to be all noble and do the unthinkable: invite bad old Angelus into the establishment to save your beloved Buffy, and you would have to bear the memories alone.

I want to gloat: I want to shout to the infernal powers of my triumphant return, where I will wait for yet another opportunity to break free. . .why are you laughing. . .all right, no one said you were stupid, at least not about something staring you in the face. I hate it! I hate the fact that I owe my return to the simple fact that. . .you love her. Because even when you slip up and I get loose and undo all of your good works, even when I bring about the apocalypse itself. . .I have to live with the fact that it is all due to that miserable love. So there it is: even after I beat you. . .and I will beat you, never doubt it, you will always have that over me. . .and I will hate you forever for it, even as your released soul screams in torment at the havoc I will wreak when I take over.

Oh well, I'm interrupting your brooding, aren't I? Don't let me get in the way. . .I'm not going anywhere.

As always, comments are welcomed and desired