Angel walked down the street, ready for a fight and not exactly caring where he found one. He needed a release, needed anything that would stop him from putting a stake through Spike's heart. The annoyingly arrogant houseguest was overstaying his welcome. Actually, Spike had never been very welcome to begin with, but do to Fred's pleading and Captain Peroxide's current usefulness it had been overlooked. However, his constant quips about Buffy were too much for Angel to bare, and they just kept getting worse.
It was no secret that Buffy and Spike had had something going on for a while, a very short while, but the way Spike bragged about it, it was like they had a relationship. No, Angel couldn't let himself believe that Buffy would want Spike. He was too.....Spike. The thought of them actually being a couple was wrong on so many levels that it made him sick at the thought of it.
At first, Angel let the comments roll off his back. It was Spike making them and he liked to press buttons and see if he could make Angel blow his top. It was one of the things he loved to do most, and after a century of practice he was undeniably good at it. But the more he talked the more truthful he sounded. Tonight he confessed that Buffy had said she loved him and Angel had to leave before he killed the peroxide idiot.
Something in the way Spike had made his confession was too believable. He had said it in a way that was too soft, too sad, to be anything other than the truth. After that all Angel had seen was red, his bloodlust hitting the peak of nearly uncontrollable.
Buffy couldn't love Spike. Could she? No. Absolutely not. She was in love with him. Wasn't she? They were supposed to love each other. They were Buffy and Angel. They were in love. It was a tragic love that could never be acted on, but they were still in love. That was the way it was, wasn't it?
Yet, he had been in love with Cordelia. He still loved Cordy. The fact didn't change how he felt about Buffy. She could love other guys. It was perfectly in her right to be with other men, just not Spike.
Angel shook his head to rid it of all the unwanted thoughts. He didn't want to think about any of it anymore. He wanted a fight, to beat something in to an unrecognizable pulp. Yet, there was nothing to fight, nobody seemed to need rescuing on that very still night. It was almost midnight and in the four hours since he had started walking the usually dangerous streets of LA there had been no action of any kind to be found. In fact, it was eerily quiet.
Out of nowhere Angel ran into somebody, knocking her to the pavement. He hadn't even seen anybody approaching, he had been so consumed by his thoughts.
Immediately, Angel went to help the young women to her feet. "I'm so sorry."
The girl hadn't lifted her head yet, but he could since that she had become stiff at hearing him speak. He offered her his hand, but she brushed it away and stood by herself. This girl obviously didn't want his help. When she finally pushed her long, wild brown hair out of her face he understood why.
Every muscle in her body tensed. She knew that voice, she'd know it anywhere. Angel. Why did she have to run into him. Of all the people in LA to run into it had to be him. Just her luck. Dawn didn't look up at him and when he offered to help her stand, she shrugged it off. He hadn't recognized her yet. If he had she knew he would have been yelling at her.
For a second, Dawn debated if it were possible for her to get up and walk away with out him ever knowing it was her. Not a chance. She might as well get it over with. Dawn pulled herself to her feet and pushed her hair away from his face, enjoying the look of pure shock written across his face.
"Hey, Angel."
