Angel had hoped by exchanging names and the slight smile that Trixie had given him that they were building a slight foundation of trust. He could sense that her fear was settling and the residual traces were just the memories of what had been done to her. He hoped that his monster had been put from her mind and that she felt at least comfortable enough to stay by his side.

He was right and he was wrong.

Suddenly, Trixie's smile faltered and she looked down at her hands before looking into Angel's eyes. " What am I doing?" She started quivering and her levels spiked again, causing his demon to smirk in pleasure. " You're a vampire, and I'm giving you my name! Get away from me!"

Angel felt his soul falter and gently held out his hands to her, his voice lowering so that the slightest traces of an ancient brogue played about the words. " Please, I'm not going to hurt you. I swear that I won't. You know that I can resist blood. I didn't even drink when you were injured."

Her eyes opened in terror, and the fear that had been swelling flew into a crescendo that hurt his heart even as it pleasured his devil. Her eyes gazed at him as though she just couldn't believe him, couldn't believe what danger she had kept herself in.

Angel felt her terror and her anger long before she expressed any words. He hastened to appease her. " Trixie, please, I wasn't even tempted. I swear–"

" Liar! Angel almost drained the Slayer, whom he loved, when he got a taste of her blood. I know you would have done the same had not your damned soul kept you from doing it somehow. You are dangerous, but you've been neutered by your soul.

" And soul or not, he was tempted. Angelus wanted my blood and that is all you will ever be. You will always be the demon!" She backed away from him, her fear screaming at him, daring him to prove her right.

She stopped as she felt the hard quality of her car behind her and then with a slight push, she stood upon the hood.

Angel held her gaze, refusing to allow his monster to rejoice, refusing to let it prove her point. " I'm not going to harm you. Go. Run away. I promise I won't follow."

" You are never to follow me again. If I sense you, I will stake you, though my whole body is tortured." And with these cryptic words, she twisted herself up in a vertical backflip.

Angel gasped in surprise and watched as she balanced precariously upon the edge of the edifice. Her eyes flashed in blue fire and he felt them consuming them. Her hair glowed golden for one single moment, and her figure changed to that of a seductive warrior. He was immediately minded of an ancient sculpture he had seen of Aphrodite, not the weak, breathy Aphrodites you now saw, but a real woman. She stood before him, and his demon called out to hers, light and dark competing.

Then with a shrill shriek she disappeared from the rooftops, fleeing amongst them. And Angel was left trembling from head to toe, just as the dawn came up. He had no time to think about what had happened, but had to flee immediately so that he too would not become ash.

Despite her warning, Angel longed to see the half-demoness again. He paced his territory, looking for her particular figure and seeking out her scent. But he never caught it again. Whiffs here and there teased him, but never could he find the trail that would lead her to him.

Part of him wondered at his dogged desire to lay eyes upon her again. It was the part of him that still died inside when he remembered Buffy's agonized features as he stood in the shadows and then just walked away. For her sake and for his.

But another part of him realized that Trixie had been joined to him the moment he saw her broken neck, the teeth rakes, and then slightly hidden beneath the collar of her shirt, the bite marks that signified another beast had marked her as his own. Telling every other vampire that he had taken her and that she was his.

Angel felt his soul rise up in pure anger even as his demon laughed at him and rejoiced in the torture that had been worked upon Trixie's soul and body. He had known immediately who the vampire had been that had hurt Trixie and oh, how he wished he had a stake to drive through his bastard heart right then and there.

" You'll pay, Spike, you'll pay for what you did to her." He would murmur occasionally to a dark room that called out in hollow echoes.

The worst part of it was that even the souled part of him couldn't deny the pleasure and joy he would have taken in doing the same to her. He would have taken her, tortured, isolated, and corrupted her gradually, fed her fears and desires, until there was nothing left of her but the snivelling fearful child she was now. He would have made sure there was no strength of character left. He would have made her dependent upon him, her torturer, even as he destroyed her from the inside out. And his demon would have thrilled in ghastly pleasure when he turned her, the delicious nectar of her blood going down his throat and imbuing him with all those sweet little scents and flavors that made a woman like her so delectable to him.

And Trixie would have been a wondrous little vampire. With her innate strength and the part of her that was already demonic, she would have been another Athena, the mightiest warrior that man could imagine; only her Athens would have been a nest of vampires; her olive tree, the pike that held the heads of all her greatest enemies. And on her aegis no doubt would have been the Slayer's head. A vague sensation told him that she would have been an even greater enemy to Buffy than Angelus or Spike had ever been.

And yet every time his demon fed him this delicious dream, his soul awoke and fought him with all the memories of the atrocities that he had already committed. They would focus upon Buffy and how he had almost killed her, not once, not twice, but three times. And then Buffy's golden form would fade to the small, petite, brown and blue form of Trixie without her demon shining through. And somehow, he longed for that form, to convince it that he could be good, and that he could stay by her side, untempted by blood and unwilling to ever hurt her or to touch her.

And as his thoughts were plagued by these dreams and temptations, hopes and irresolutions, Angel searched the streets. He paced throughout them all, occasionally saving the helpless, dusting out a few nests. Making friends and enemies. He heard the stories that echoed down for Sunnydale. And though he thirsted for news of Buffy, more he thirsted for the tender scent that told him Trixie might be near, that he could finally atone for the fear that shook through her body, in a miserable symphony of terror, torture, and torment. A symphony he had orchestrated a hundred and fifty years ago.

Thus he walked and thus he sought–hoping. And strangely his hope was to be granted in the belly of the Devil.