She turned around and walked away. He closed the door quietly and with the
soft click his eyes filled with hot tears that burned a trail down his face.
His legs would no longer carry his weight so he leaned heavily on the door for support.
Her words echoed in his mind.

'Not something from inside you, Wesley. Something that was done to you.' She
had said.

If only he could believe her. If only the garbage that had spewed from his
mouth a few hours earlier hadn't given him an eerie reminder of his father.

His father.

He was not his father. He refused to be his father.

But today. That's exactly who he had been. And there was no way to know
if.... if Billy hadn't reached inside him and touched something, grasped
something and tore at it. Pulled it to the surface.

Fred was right, he didn't want to show his face in the office. Not because
of what the others might think of him, but because of what he thought of
himself. He did not want to return until he knew. Until he knew that....

He...

Was not...

His father...

Could some one make him angry enough to hit them? Would someone misspeak -
Would SHE misspeak?

He let his body slide down to the floor, he had no energy left to fight it.
Visions of chasing her through the halls, of trying to decide weather to
beat her into submission or to rape her first, ran through his head. He
remembered every emotion that had welled up inside him. The pure,
unadulterated rage at her omission. The arousal he felt when he had her
pinned against the wall. And worst of all, the ecstasy he felt when he saw
her cowering in fear in the corner.

He didn't know if he could ever look at her the same. And he didn't know how
she could ever look at him again.

But of course, she didn't know his father.

But he did.

But he was not his father!

But how long would it be that way. How long before there was another
trigger. He knew what it felt like now. Understood the appeal in a small,
sick, perverted way.

He'd never felt as in control as when he'd stalked down that hallway with
that ax in his hand. Now, he felt like he was drowning.

He took a deep breath. Control, perhaps that's what it was really all about.

But he was not his father.

So he would find another way. He might not have that dinner with Fred.

But he would find another way.

Because he was not his father.