I guess when a bloke's too bloody thick; he has to be bashed over the head (literally) more than once before he finally sees the light. Or, as luck would have it, blood red rage, whatever works for you.
See, I knew Dru never loved me, she didn't care an ounce more for me than Angelus cared for her, or for that matter Darla cared for him. Vampires don't love, that's the rule, but at a certain point lust becomes need and need becomes convenience…
What, you lot thought there was some buggery brilliant reason for vampires to mate? S'not like we're monogamous, even after that, it's simply an acknowledgement. "Hey, bloody love shaggin' you, and can't much stand the idea of another bloke taking what's mine… So, what do you say, give me permission to tear anyone else you sleep with limb from limb?"
Look here, vampires don't like to share, and if they have to, they prefer to kill the "sharer" after the fact has occurred in various gruesome ways.
Now, despite all that, being the thick-skulled bloke I am, I figured that if Uber-Whore and The Poofter could get by on that idea, my princess and I could too.
So maybe it took me a 'undred years to figure it out, but there was one lesson in all that rot; I vowed that next time, I would be the one with the knife and chains fetish and not the other way 'round.
Course, I probably got some valuable torture techniques out of the horror that was those three loonies using me as their personal knife cushion; if it hurts me, then it's bloody well going to murder you.
Now after a couple more rounds of "let me count the ways you disgust me," 's finally occurred to me, in all the bloody blinding red detail, that I'm the one being whipped in this game.
You can say whatever you soddin well want about me as a person, but as a demon; I don't play well with others. Well, I play well; shame is mangled corpses don't tend to agree with that theory or much the people chasin' after you after the fact.
Slayer'n can say whatever her pink little heart desires, but the chit's never seen the demon come out to play. How does she think I got my name? That I was all teasing and suggestive and just lulled them onto the railroad spike? Let me tell you, not bloody likely.
I'll even admit to being a bit like the Great Poof, in that I don't much call on that side of me, though it's a tad bit more complicated.
Are we following along, children? As a demon, I strictly despise being whipped, I hate being loathed, and I absolutely will not tolerate being scorned. I'm not soddin' good enough to love you? Fine, but I warn you Slayer; I'm more than good enough to make you wish you'd never been born.