The pale knuckles of his strong hands gripped the arm rests of his chair. Angel did not have a functioning organ in his body, but something was pulsating through his entire being: a mixture of pain, remorse, complete fear and total sadness - and the worst was yet to come.
The commotion in Buffy's operating room was phenomenal, and made Angel all the more wary. Suddenly, the words hit him - it was as if the demon his soul had replaced was making one last impact on Angel's sad existence. "Come on! we're losing her." That was all he heard, before everything went black: his world, his life, his entire reason for going on - it had all been ripped away from him in that moment...or so he thought. He was never one to give up, but this evening had taken such a toll on his sanity that even he was not sure how to react. All he knew was that his one and only soulmate was lying helpless, in a critical condition, on a gurney, with a bullet wound...his mind raced for a second. Shaking his head, he blocked any memories from returning. This was not the time or place to take pity on one's self. Deciding to remove himself from the not-so-comfortable confines of the hospital waiting room, he stood and prepared to race to Buffy's side. This time no orderly, nurse, nor doctor would stop him: he had to see Buffy...he had to save her. How? He wasn't sure, but he would find a way, even if it meant destroying everything in his path. His rampage had only just begun.
***************
Xander helped Giles over to the admittance desk where a petite young nurse sat with her eyes fixated on the computer monitor in front of her. "Name?" she asked, her voice verging on annoyance; it had been a busy night. "He needs help..." Xander began as Giles slumped out of his arms and tumbled onto the desk. "See?" Xander stated, almost impressed by Giles' sense of timing. Immediately the nurse arose from her station and beckoned to several young orderlies. Xander was taken aback by the sudden commotion taking place around him. Giles was not in a serious condition, but he was in pain and drained of all energy. The orderlies seemed almost eager to have a patient they could handle. "Easy." Xander eased, "Don't go all turbo-doctor or anything." Shaking his head in mock-shame, he turned to take a seat in the waiting room.
"Watch it, Man!" Xander blurted as he was nearly bowled over by a frantic figure clothed in black. The man did not turn to apologize; he merely grunted and continued running down the corridor. The miffed teenager began to turn around once again but was accosted by an eerie sense of familiarity. He wasn't sure why Buffy's 'spider-sense' had rubbed off on him, but something told him to pursue this John Doe character. He decided to follow him, hesitantly at first but, after witnessing the havoc this guy was wrecking by steam rolling over every person in his path, Xander decided to pick up the pace.
Pushing instrument-filled trays and empty wheelchairs which had been taking up space in the busy halls, Angel cleared a path to Buffy's room. The double doors stood a small distance away. Nothing could stop him now - not even the trail of security officers he was leaving behind. His face was eager to morph, but that was the last thing Angel needed; he had to maintain his human facade in the presence of these mortals, no matter how impossible the task may seem.
The doctors loomed over Buffy, scrupulously monitoring her condition. She looked so distressed, her face contorted with pain. She remained unconscious, but she still wore the expression of a young girl victimized by the one she loved. The doctors were taken aback by the blur of hectic events, as Angel rushed in, practically diving onto Buffy's gurney as security followed close behind. "No! Please? You have to...you don't under...I need her...she's mine...I..." His words were coming out scrambled, as though someone had deprived him of his ability to communicate. His hysterics did not go unnoticed.
Security was so occupied in getting a hold of the crazed mad man rampaging through Sunnydale General that they did not see the befuddled highschool student. Xander entered the room, taking notice of the confused officers and doctors, who were clueless as to what they should be doing. The scenario seemed so insane; mockingly Xander analyzed the situation. 'So this is it? No demons - no nothin'? Wow Sunnydale, you surprise me!' he thought to himself. Then he looked closer; the limp figure on the operating table wasn't that of a stranger....it was Buffy!! "NO!" His heart raced. Unlike Angel he could react to the situation normally - with a change in bodily functions. He rushed to her side and leaned over her, concerned. "What...?" he gasped to no one in particular. Order was finally going to be restored. "Security, do your job and take these men away" the doctor stated matter of factly. 'Men?' Xander asked himself. His concern was interrupted briefly by the doctor's words. Suddenly, Xander took notice of the whimpering figure just feet away from Buffy. Xander's instincts kicked into full throttle. Lunging at the lone vampire in mortal form, he attacked Angel before security had a chance to prevent the outraged teen from doing so. He was insanely angry and in proportion, the violence grew. 'What does he think he's doing? Portraying a saddened lover? He's sick...sick.' Xander's mind raced. How could he? It became clear to Xander in that moment....Angel had been the one to put Buffy in this condition. Angel lay there, pinned by his familiar aqquaintance; his first instinct was to rip the boy into unrecognizable pieces for attacking him when he was so close to Buffy. He had to be there with her, he had to save her; then he saw the boy's face: the angered, confused and petrified features of Xander. Angel looked up at him with puzzled eyes. Xander was impressed by Angel's ability to act; he was playing the tortured mate so very well that it seemed a shame to ruin his encore performance.
"How could you? You tried to kill her and now you're here? If I had known....." Xander paused to look up at Buffy; his heart stopped. He loved her, it was obvious, but he had loved so many girls in his life; it was all part of his puzzling, never-ending soap opera, which was unworthy of the cliche, 'A love triangle'. It was more like a love octagon at this point.
The doctors had decided to continue treating Buffy, even with the commotion going on a few feet away. The officers in Sunnydale really were incredibely stupid and they wanted no part in the twisted scene. Xander quickly realized that this was no time to deal with enemies, not while Buffy lay there helplessly. As he stood up slowly, taking in the commotion before him, he tried to collect himself. Angel lay there in a whirlwind of confusion. There were so many unanswered questions. 'Why had Xander gone to such an extreme?' Angel always knew of his jealousy when it came to the relationship that he and Buffy shared, but never in his 241 years of living had he thought a mortal boy could behave in such an animalistic fashion.
That's when it happened. Right there on the floor of the operating room, with a handful of strangers scattered about, Angel remembered. He was forced into a state of knowing...everything. This time he saw more than just faces - he saw death, destruction, and the pleasure his demon had gotten from these acts. Suddenly Angel felt as though he had been immersed in water; a black liquid filled his eyes: condensed tears which refused to stop flowing. He saw the statue, the ritual, and the girl that had tried to stop all of it from happening. "BUFFY!", her name came out as a hoarse, scratchy plea; it was the only word his troubled mind could elucidate. He was completely and totally focused solely on her. He saw her face, the face he had fallen in love with, the face that was imprinted in his mind - in his dreams, the face that was contorted with fear as he pulled a pistol from his trenchcoat.
He saw her body, the body he had enfolded tenderly in his arms, the body he had been eager to embrace, the body he had become one with the night his soul had been usurped, the same body that crumpled to the ground after the bullet tore through her body - a wound perpetrated by his own hand. He had been the one to inflict such indescribable pain on the one thing he loved more than life, or worse yet, immortal life itself. He had been the one to threaten Buffy, time and time again.
He was rattled to the bone; his entire body shook in a frenzy of convulsions. Shame and self-hatred overwhelmed him. All he could feel was the urge to leave his pitiful existence behind, his disgusting and repulsive being. Worst of all, he felt the hatred Buffy had developed for him. 'How could this happen? How could I? Why? How?' Endless questions raced through his mind. Still concentrating on her name, he rolled onto his side, mustering the strength to open his eyes. "Buffy....." he had to stay away from her, from everything, anything. He was a threat to everyone he had ever cared for and, in the period of a few short months, he had become the enemy. All he ever wanted was to protect Buffy, to love her and show her how much she brightened his dismal world. She brought meaning to his life, and he was driven by that. At the mercy of Angelus, he had thrown everything away. Hatred was building inside him as the demon rose to the surface - hatred for himself, and especially his separate entity. Rising slowly, desperately, Angel tore out of the operating room. His legs moved mechanically; he was running on madness now. Buffy did not need him there, he would be the end of her, and he was now searching for punishment. He had to pay for his deeds; making up for them seemed impossible.
Running into the night Angel screamed Buffy's name over and over like a sacred mantra; she was the last piece of sanity he held onto as he gave in to self-pity. Staggering into the night, drunk on emotion, Angel searched hopelessly for the setting sun.
***************
Stepping onto the streets of Sunnydale, two figures, masked by darkness and devoured by evil, smiled into the night. A sing-song voice echoed into the velvet sky, "Time to play..." A British, peroxide-haired bloke responded to the whimsical damsel, "Game, set....match!"