by Lynx

I tried to love you-I thought I could
I tried to own you-I thought I would
I want to peel the skin from your face
Before the real you lays to waste

The loss of his soul should have removed her from his life.  Anything that Angel had felt should have died, just as she would soon die at his hands.  But lust and desire were tricky things and for the first time in over two hundred years, Angelus was being ruled by passion.  Passion for  the Slayer, his enemy.

He found himself following her as she patrolled, lurking in the shadows.  At first he was gleeful as he
plotted for the right moment in which to kill her.  She would never suspect until it was too late.  Gradually, anger set in.  Why couldn't she feel him watching her?  What had happened to her awareness of him?  That she could go about her nightly duty, oblivious to his presence was an afront to all they had meant to each other.  He knew that she thought of him, he could see it in her face as she walked through the cemetary.  He knew that she was remembering the passion that had swept through them every time that they were together.  On some nights Xander patrolled with her, falsely believing he was protecting her.  Angel could smell Xander's desire, an echo of his own.  It both amused and enraged him; did that insignificant boy really believe that he could ever be man enough for her?  They would all realize that there was no one for her but Angel.  He had to show her- remind her that she belonged to him, only to him.                                                                                                                       .

You told me I'm the only one
Sweet little angel-you should have run
Lying, crying, dying to leave
Innocence creates my Hell

He had never told her much about himself before the change.  How he had lured innocent virgins with his charm, making them believe he loved them.  He pursued them obsessively- secretly, from their families and chaperones.  One by one they gave themselves to him; none had the strength to refuse.  Once their precious virginity was his, he deserted them, watching from afar as they were forced into marriages with elderly, impotent men.  It became his raison d'etre-no woman could resist him.  Their sighs as he seduced them rang in his ears like sweet music.  The power he held over them was like a drug.  As soon as he finished with one, he sought out his next.  They all welcomed him, eager for romance.  He was their beautiful Angel, the man of their dreams.  They never suspected how much he detested their simpering.
 
Buffy was different, a modern woman with a mind of her own.  He knew he had to have her the moment he saw her.  He gave her only glimpses into his past; Darla, the vampire who made him; his siring of Spike and Drusilla.  He even once mentioned that he had hated the girls of his time.  Of course, he never divulged how that hatred had manifested itself.  What little she discovered about Angelus  disgusted her, but she felt only love and compassion for Angel.  She blamed Darla for his evil side.  If she knew the truth about her precious Angel, it would destroy every memory she had of their love.  She had no inkling of the human monster he had been.  Even with a soul, he had been far  from angelic.  She always thought it was just the demon that made him Angelus.  He knew Angelus had been a part of him long before Darla.

Cheating myself still you know more
It would be so easy with a whore
Try to understand me little girl
My twisted passion to be your world

He had taken to leaving her presents; by her window, the back door, her locker at school.  She never knew what he would leave next.  Sometimes, it was a dead and mutilated animal-birds, kittens, bunnies. Things that would pierce a teenage girl's heart.  Other times, it was human body parts-eyes, ears, hearts, hands.  She always disposed of them calmly, never showing anger or fear.  He wondered if she was touched by his gifts, if she knew just how much thought he put into each one.  No other woman had ever been able to resist his courting.  Perhaps he should leave Xander for her to find next.  Or the part of Xander that strained for her every time she was near.  Drusilla was always saying that her Angel knows what speaks to a girl's heart.  The key to Buffy's heart would be discovered soon enough.  Her mind was strong but he would break her eventually.  She was his greatest challenge, but still no match for his powers of seduction.  Drusilla was easy, her mind already fractured by her psychic ability.  He tired of her quite easily once she was broken.  Buffy would make the game so much more interesting.  The challenge would only make victory that much sweeter.
 
The light in her bedroom window was like a beacon.  He was no longer welcome but he could still watch.  Night after night she undressed for him, her movements slow and deliberate.  Sometimes she turned on the radio and danced as she stripped.  His eyes followed her hands as they caressed her smooth skin.  He remembered the feel of her full breasts under his hands, the softness of her thighs.  Did she know he was out there?  He couldn't tell by looking at her face.  Was she imagining that those were his hands touching her, or was she trying to prove that she didn't need him to give her pleasure?  She was driving him insane, fueling his bloodlust.  He would prove to her once and for all that she couldn't exist without him.  He had to make her feel the blinding hunger, the desperate need that he felt.
 
His nights were filled with visions of her, bound and bloody, waiting for him to devise new torments.  As he fed each night he imagined that it was her blood he was drinking.  He wanted to consume her as he was being consumed by his lust for her.  He pictured himself driving his hardness into her as he sliced open her naked skin.  He wanted to peel the flesh from her in ribbons.  The throbbing in his groin was a constant, aching presence.   Sometimes he would use Drusilla to take the edge off, other times he would rape his victims before he fed.  It was never enough.  Only she could satisfy him.
 
Lost inside my sick head
I live for you but I'm not alive
Take my hand before I kill
I still love you, I still burn
Love, Hate, Love

His dreams during the day were the opposite of his nighttime fantasies.  Dreams that betrayed the demon, offering only visions of the love he had briefly experienced with her.  Her scent, her softness, the tenderness in her touch.  He dreamt of their last night together.  Her naked beauty sprawled in his bed.  Her vulnerability when he first entered her.  The soft cry from her lips as he brought her to climax.  The way she felt in his arms afterward, as they fell asleep.  The dreams tortured Angelus as they comforted Angel.  She should have been his salvation, not his tormentor.  Angelus could feel Angel squirming inside his head, desperate to be released before the demon did any more damage.
 
He could feel his grip on reality faltering with each passing day.  The sidelong glances from Spike told him that he needed to maintain his control.  The love that had been in his heart was now a twisted thing, twisted by the hate and overpowering lust that threatened to destroy him.  He would make her his again, she could never love another after what they had shared.  No woman had ever escaped his attentions, she would not be the first.  They were bound together by chains that only he could feel.  Before long, she would feel them, too.  His body was becoming a prison, trapping the two halves of his personality.  His kills were growing more vicious.  Even Spike was appalled.  It was only a matter of time before he lost control completely and Spike would regain his role as master.  Spike had started slinging subtle barbs at him, trying to throw him off his game.  If not for the wheelchair, he knew Spike would pursue Buffy to get back at him for Dru.  As if Spike could ever win her.  Angel never lost when he played.  This was a game where he alone was master.   Buffy would be his again, there was no question.  He could feel the chains tighten even now.  She would be powerless against them.  As powerless as he was.

You let me violate you,  you let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you,  you let me complicate you
Help me, I broke apart my insides, help me, I've got no soul to sell
Help me, the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself
 
 
-Closer,  Nine Inch Nails

The End