Maybe it was because Slayer's blood ran beneath her cold brown skin, but something about her touch was magical. Merely standing behind him, with her hand draped over his left shoulder, made him feel powerful. It didn't make any sense, her standing behind him as he lorded over the minions. Usually this was her place. Usually Derek and Katie, her disciples, stood behind her, emblems of her power, her enforcers. But tonight, in a way that brought back memories of his old glory, Christina stood behind Angelus still as a statue, quiter, until, when she left, he felt lonely, cold, naked and abandoned.
He missed her.