The next few weeks were pure entertainment. I loved watching Buffy in the morning as she remembered everyday that I was no longer Angel. She would wake crying sometimes in the middle of the night and it was purely humorous.

I would have to cover my mouth to laugh.

But as I sat in her room tonight, sketching her sleeping face, part of me couldn't help but feel….happy. Ever since that one night where she had gone hunting, emotions were rising in me that I had never felt when I was evil before. Now I was finally free, and life was good.

But it came with a price.

Buffy moved slightly, seeming not to notice me. It was strange, how a part of me wished she was awake. I knew that I would be literally dead meat if she saw me now. I didn't have any weapons on me because I expected her to keep sleeping. Technically, I am Angel. So she was merely comforted by my presence.

I dragged the pencil over the piece of parchment I had picked up at the art store. I looked up at her every few seconds, determined not to let those feelings rise up in my time of concentration.

I was drawing her closed eyes when I heard it. She muttered faintly in her sleep. She only said it once, and I wasn't even sure I had heard it right. I shrugged it off and returned my eyes to the paper.

"Angel," she whispered louder.

I looked up and an involuntary shock of pleasure ran through me. A small smile spread across my face, and my hand started to tingle, as if it wanted to stroke her face…

I growled quietly at myself, feeling totally sickened by my reaction. How could be so week? Buffy couldn't possible have this handle on me. Not even Darla, my dark goddess, could influence me this way. I then felt an involuntary feel of anticipation and excitement.

I couldn't locate where that had stemmed from.

I placed my hand over my face in frustration. What was wrong with me? Or more, what was right with me?

I heard a slight groan from Buffy and then she muttered, "Angel," again.

I took my hand off my face to see that her eyes were opened. I almost jumped off the bed in defense. But when Buffy's muscles didn't tense or she didn't prepare to attack, I relaxed.

I looked at her green closely to see that they were glassy, foggy. She must just be having a bout of sleeping walking. I looked at her eyes deeply, not noticing until now how sad they looked.

I had seen her sadness firsthand, hell; I had caused most of it. But there was something about her now, at this very moment, which tore at my insides. I was sure she was asleep, but tears poured out of her eyes. They were saddened in a way that couldn't bring me any pleasure.

More so, they…made my chest ache in a way, that if I was human, my breath would be taken away. "B-Buffy?" I stuttered out before I could even think.

I held my breath involuntarily, waiting for her to speak. To my great surprise and dreaded bliss, she smiled. "Angel, you're back," she said, her voice full of something that had me stunned for a good ten seconds.

The dream smile was still plastered on her face when I finally moved. I didn't what or why I was doing it. But instead of doing something totally vile and evil, I two fingers up to her cheek….and stroked it.

My stomach twisted in happiness and revulsion at the same time. My entire mind was screaming, STOP IT!!!!

But I couldn't.

Something in me felt good as I stroked her cheek. She eventually closed her eyes and her breathing became level.

A part of me just wanted to sit there for hours and just listen to her breath. It was like a music that made shivers run down my spine. Panic rose in me and I ran my hand through my hair.

I continued to sketch her as intricately as I could, but part of me just wanted to take her into my arms and kiss her all over. I eventually just set down the picture, not even able to finish. I was dissatisfied with the drawing, but to everyone else, it probably looked professional.

I walked over to Buffy's window and took one last look at my prey. I was about to mutter something overdramatically evil, when a sentence that disgusted me ran through my mind. Goodbye, my love.

That one sentence made me feel so many things at once, but the strongest on was agony.

I would later tell myself that I was just manipulating her in the most personal way. Love. But, underneath it all, I knew that it was total crap that I was saying.

And I hated myself for being week.