Angelus stood on the split-level roof of the Bronze and looked over what he could see of the 'bad part of town', lit by the pale rays of the three-quarter moon.

This had been one of Angel's favorite brooding spots, and Angelus had found in his turn that it was a good place to think, to plan the next step to killing the Slayer.

He needed to kill her. Not just because she was the cause of all the times he had felt...ugh, human. But because Angel's memories were growing stronger, little by little. Angelus couldn't admit to anyone that Angel was fighting back from wherever he was. Angel's will to survive depended on the Slayer. Once she was dead, Angel would give up.

Angelus had told Spike and Dru that he hadn't killed the Slayer yet because he enjoyed making her suffer, suffer in return for what she'd done to him. That was true, but that wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was that beneath the hate and rage, a very reluctant respect was growing. It made him hate her all the more.

Angelus was very good at detecting pain, both physically and emotionally-he'd caused it often enough. Even with Angel's knowledge of the Slayer, he was surprised that she hadn't let her grief blindside her and get her killed while she was 'working'. Dru had gone insane from about three-quarters the emotional agony that the Slayer was experiencing.

Angelus stiffened as he heard someone climb onto the roof, out of one of the small windows that led to the topmost balcony inside the Bronze. Then he took a second look at the dark figure and wasn't in the least surprised that it was her.

The dangerous type**

He watched, pushing back the hatred and fury that threatened to swamp him, until he saw that the Slayer wasn't crying. She slammed her fists into the wall between the windows again and again.

The Slayer was angry, and she was full of loathing. Angelus wondered who it was for. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he would be disappointed if it wasn't him. Their mutual hate bound them together in a very personal way, though she didn't understand that yet.

Angelus knew that she could very well kill him with her bare hands in this disposition.

But then, twenty-year-old Angelus Roarke had known better than to walk in Duchess Carruthers' gardens alone at midnight with a blond girl named Darla, even after the bottle and a half of champagne he'd consumed.

"You're not in this mood over me, are you? How disappointing."

Angelus saw the Slayer spin, going instantly into a defensive stance as she heard his voice. Only the whirlwind of her feelings had stopped her detecting him as he moved.

"What's the matter, Angelus? Already filled your quota of killing and maiming for tonight?"

Angelus liked her sarcasm; it made seeing her pain even sweeter. "Who is it that you hate so much, Slayer-besides me, I mean?"

"Why do you want to know? Looking for some more friends?" Buffy asked him, her voice thick with a tangle of emotions.

"Curiosity. My besetting sin, I'm afraid." "Curiosity?" Buffy asked disbelievingly.

Angelus shrugged and said, "How do you think I ended up like this, anyway?"

Still in her stance, Buffy looked at him thoughtfully. "Actually, I am in this mood over you, in a way."

Angelus crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against the overhang of the roof above the windows. Incidentally, he was also well out of her reach. He looked at her expectantly, and told her "Go on."

Buffy shook her head. "Why am I even thinking about telling you this?"

"Because you can't tell any of your-what's that cute name you call them, Slayerettes? -about this. Or your Watcher. Slayers are only supposed to have these kinds of feelings about things they kill. I'm probably the one person in your life who you could confess anything to and not be shocked."

Buffy spat "You are not 'in my life'."

"Oh, yes I am, Slayer." Angelus smiled at her maliciously and continued "Like it or not, I am a part of your life. I'll be a part of your life until I kill you."

"Or I kill you" Buffy retorted.

Angelus nodded in a silent 'touche' and replied "So tell. Who is it that you hate so much? Who is it that makes you boil with rage?"

"Them" Buffy said as she pointed to the building below, her answer automatic.

Angelus raised his eyebrows and waited.

Her words tumbled out almost on top of each other, fuelled by the force of her raw emotions.

"Tonight, just for a minute, I hated everyone else in the world who wasn't as miserable as me. I hated them for being happy, for having hope instead of despair, for not knowing what I've lost to keep safe a bunch of people who wouldn't appreciate what I'd done if they did know." Buffy took a deep breath as the hatred and rage drained away, drained by the sheer relief of expressing it to somebody, even the one who had caused most of it.

"I really am going to have to kill you soon, Slayer. Much more of this, and I'll start to like you." Angelus murmured to himself. He saw the Slayer frown, not sure if she had heard him right. She stayed in her defensive stance, as he walked backwards to the edge of the roof and with an ironic wave, jumped backwards and over. As he plummeted down, his grip on the iron rails controlling his drop, he thought he heard the Slayer speak.

The dangerous type**

"I know where the ladder is too, you know."

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