"I'm not a good man. You knew that." She had known what he was before. Regaining his soul had changed him for the better, but it hadn't erased the past. Nothing will ever erase his past- but that means moments like this one, where he has to pay for his sins with his own suffering.
When she continues, he steps back, shocked. Does she really think that he'd have attacked her if he had had any control at all? "I didn't. It was like the past twenty years never happened. Not any of it." Not Buffy. Not the trials and his soul, not Angel and the stupid bloody law firm. When he was in the dream it had felt just like it did back then. Good. Amazing. A fucking thrill, right up till the moment where she was holding his heart in her hand. Waking up had been torture.
He fixates on the image of her with his heart in her hand, and the look she'd had on her face as it went black and started to crumble. She'd been confused and horrified, and he never wants to see that look on her face again.
His gaze goes distant and he loses his concentration. "I was..." He runs a hand back through his hair and looks around at the little apartment, lost, as if he might find a solution to this conversation in the hum of the refrigerator or the stacks of paperback books. When he finally finds her gaze again, he looks desperate and unsteady and unnaturally pale. "Soulless. It's not what I wanted. Not ever again."
no subject
When she continues, he steps back, shocked. Does she really think that he'd have attacked her if he had had any control at all? "I didn't. It was like the past twenty years never happened. Not any of it." Not Buffy. Not the trials and his soul, not Angel and the stupid bloody law firm. When he was in the dream it had felt just like it did back then. Good. Amazing. A fucking thrill, right up till the moment where she was holding his heart in her hand. Waking up had been torture.
He fixates on the image of her with his heart in her hand, and the look she'd had on her face as it went black and started to crumble. She'd been confused and horrified, and he never wants to see that look on her face again.
His gaze goes distant and he loses his concentration. "I was..." He runs a hand back through his hair and looks around at the little apartment, lost, as if he might find a solution to this conversation in the hum of the refrigerator or the stacks of paperback books. When he finally finds her gaze again, he looks desperate and unsteady and unnaturally pale. "Soulless. It's not what I wanted. Not ever again."