I have left Warren to his friends and his plans. I know he will think of me. I look far too much like his dead girlfriend for him not to. If someone you loved and lost appeared to you and offered you unlimited power, you'd take it, wouldn't you? Oh, yes, I thought so.
I seek out another, whose anguished soul calls to me as much as Warren's did. But this one, he isn't supposed to have a soul. He is a Champion. A Champion fallen at my feet, oh, that is most pleasing.
I can feel his pain, it feeds me and makes me stronger, bolder. He needs no preparation, this one, he is ready for me. He will be a most willing accomplice.
"Oh, Angel," I whisper through someone else's lips, her lips, the one lying warm and living dead elsewhere. He will see her and he will know that I offer what she cannot. Will not.
I walk through the empty store. I think it was a costume shop or something at one time, but it's definitely deserted now. I figured I could set up some monitoring equipment in here, as it was only two stores down from the Magic Box, and it would be an ideal situation to spy on Buffy's friends
( ... )
I hear her voice in the dark before I see her, and then...as if by magic (and maybe it was), she steps out in front of me. A thousand feelings rage through me. To see her again...to see with life in her body.
I should be mad at her, I should be screaming at her, pleading for why she left us, why she played that cruel joke that she betrayed us for a coma...for a fake world, but I can't. Because seeing her alive, it makes everything forgiven.
All the anguish, all the pain...it is still there, but I finally see what I need to make it all bearable.
I need her.
I NEED her...and this time I am not letting her go. Ever.
Yet...I get a sense that she is all mine now. No one else's. Yes, that's it. All mine.
Mine.
Mine.
I hear a voice and I snap my attention to Buffy, who has returned to me...like a...like a angel, and I snarl at the boy who I see. The boy who has interrupted my divine gift.
"Yes, Buffy," I whisper, moving slowly closer. The poor Champion, lost and alone, whatever shall he do now? I'll be his Buffy, as long as he'll champion my cause, and I think he will. He would not refuse her.
I feel another, a young presence, naive but so eager to help. To make something of himself. I could do it for him, or make him think that I did. But he doesn't know I'm here.
But he sees Angel.
"He is a friend," I say, gesturing at the boy. Oh, yes, he will be useful indeed. The combination of Angel's passion for the girl whose form I wear and this child's eagerness to please could be deadly if their heartstrings are played right.
Comments 18
I seek out another, whose anguished soul calls to me as much as Warren's did. But this one, he isn't supposed to have a soul. He is a Champion. A Champion fallen at my feet, oh, that is most pleasing.
I can feel his pain, it feeds me and makes me stronger, bolder. He needs no preparation, this one, he is ready for me. He will be a most willing accomplice.
"Oh, Angel," I whisper through someone else's lips, her lips, the one lying warm and living dead elsewhere. He will see her and he will know that I offer what she cannot. Will not.
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I hear her voice in the dark before I see her, and then...as if by magic (and maybe it was), she steps out in front of me. A thousand feelings rage through me. To see her again...to see with life in her body.
I should be mad at her, I should be screaming at her, pleading for why she left us, why she played that cruel joke that she betrayed us for a coma...for a fake world, but I can't. Because seeing her alive, it makes everything forgiven.
All the anguish, all the pain...it is still there, but I finally see what I need to make it all bearable.
I need her.
I NEED her...and this time I am not letting her go. Ever.
Yet...I get a sense that she is all mine now. No one else's. Yes, that's it. All mine.
Mine.
Mine.
I hear a voice and I snap my attention to Buffy, who has returned to me...like a...like a angel, and I snarl at the boy who I see. The boy who has interrupted my divine gift.
"Who are you!?"
Reply
I feel another, a young presence, naive but so eager to help. To make something of himself. I could do it for him, or make him think that I did. But he doesn't know I'm here.
But he sees Angel.
"He is a friend," I say, gesturing at the boy. Oh, yes, he will be useful indeed. The combination of Angel's passion for the girl whose form I wear and this child's eagerness to please could be deadly if their heartstrings are played right.
"He is here to help us."
Reply
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