A secluded patch of light shone through the thick cover of forest leaves. Angel circled it, starring into the bright centre, the grass in the patch growing long and green. Angel stopped, stretching a hand reluctantly into the light. Nothing. No smoke, no fire. Just a normal, non-burning hand. He turned his hand over in amazement, a small smile grazing his face, his palm opening and closing in the bright sun. It felt warm, comforting, something he hadn't experienced since he was alive, yet hadn't appreciated since becoming a monster. Taking a deep breath, he stepped slowly into the sunlight. Still surprised by the not vampire reactions, he stood, letting the light wash over him. A twig snapped in the tree line and Angel turned to the noise instantly. He listened now, not like before, but really listened. It was silent. The usual sounds of animals and life had ceased altogether, like the twig had been a gunshot, and the wildlife had retreated away from it. A figure uncovered gradually in the darkness, a silhouette, arms crossed over a petite frame. Darla. She walked slowly towards him, a slight smirk on her face.
"Angelus. I would say I'm surprised by you being here, but the chance of humanity has always been an attraction for you. Soul… or no soul." Darla was outside the ring of light now, eyebrows raised at Angel in an empathetic, teasing kind of look.
"It's almost cute, the way you throw yourself at humans." She started to walk around, careful not to step into the light. Angel could take a guess why.
"You'd do anything for them, wouldn't you? You just love them so much. I've got to say though; I preferred it when you loved to kill their kind, and the way you took pride in it, your killing. It was almost inspiring. A true artist cut down in your prime if you ask me." She paused then, as if thinking over her next words.
"Now if you be a good little soul boy, maybe we can get you what you want." She stretched a hand towards Angel slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. It was cold, deathly, even more so than a normal vampires was. He recoiled from her grasp.
"I'll see you soon. Angelus." She smirked again, but this time it was different. Like he was a fly caught in her tightly spun web, struggling for freedom before she lolled him into a false sense of security, just before the kill.
Angel sat up in bed with a start, his hands gripping the thin sheets as if his undead life counted on it. Sighing, he relaxed, rubbing his face with his hands. That dream it'd felt so real, so human. He closed his eyes with frustration. God he hated so much what he'd done, the killing, the torture, the pain he'd caused. It tore him up inside thinking about what his victims went through. But the worst thing? Being able to remember the life leave their eyes. Every child, every woman, every man. Everything he'd done he could remember, and every day the guilt almost threatened to show and stop him. He had to work through it, to redeem himself, if not for him. For Buffy.