Everyday, in that human shell I acted like I was one of them, made them believe I was their friend. I wish I could still see their faces, frozen with fear as I killed each of them. Poetry actually. Buffy was terrified the most. How could I ever hurt her, ever think of making it so those precious green eyes would never see again?
But with their deaths, the power came. The Dark Ones were pleased and I was given powers that made all of Willow's Wiccan powers seem pathetic.
Not that I didn't admire her efforts. Before I ripped out her throat.
I was disappointed with her. Out of everyone, one would think she would have noticed the change. She was so observant, had known this human shell for so long. She should have noticed when I left that night before I started to take control that something was wrong.
After killing Giles, it wasn't that hard to gain leadership among them. Just a few lies about being trained as a Watcher, and a fighting match against Buffy. They completely fell for it. They didn't even question it when I let demons live.
It wasn't too hard to leave Oz's cage open that first night. I had more creative ways of getting rid of him, but when I found out that the human werewolf-hunter was back, I couldn't pass it up. I used the powers the Dark Ones had given me to lead him to the Bronze. And the sliver bullet hit Oz straight in the chest. It was beautiful. His energy seeped into me, and I made sure he knew who had made him get shot. The plan was to perfect not to have my signature on it.
And Willow was too depressed to notice how I kept pushing Buffy to the edge, taunting her. Making her remember Angel, and Faith, and all the pain she had caused everyone. Made her feel guilty. Made her feel weak. And when I mentioned Parker, she lost it. And she thought that she could fight me. I guess I cannot blame her. She was used to having to protect my human shell. I fought her back, using my true strength. And then she realized the truth. What I was. That I was her enemy.
I confronted Willow, acted like I was concerned about her depression. We walked to Buffy and Oz's graves, when we patrolled. We sat there, silent. And then she began to cry. I almost felt sorry for her. So I gave her a quick death. As she leaned on my shoulder, I showed her my true form. And then I ripped out her throat.
I have been given the power once more, now, and I know who I am to be to complete the Dark Ones' plans. To rid the world of the ones who would protect it.
I am to be who I once was. I am no longer Morieus, the bringer of death and the creator of fears. I am no longer the friend of Willow, Oz, Giles, and Buffy. But I will be the same person I was then.
I will once again be Alexander Harris.