DISCLAIMER: The characters of Buffy, Angel, and the others belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB, 20^th Century FOX, and probably some more. 

RATING: PG-13 for mild discussion of torture.  Nothing too serious, generally if you can watch the show, you can read this.

The vampire huddled in his torn clothing. He was alone, for the first time in years. And yet he did not test the cage, he knew it would be of no use.

All the vampires were with the Master, at the new factory. The silence had been a blessing at first. It meant there was no torture. No watching humans die, no pain. But now he was left with his memories. And they were horrible beyond belief. They tormented him ceaselessly. Only the pain of the moment could take the pain of the past away.

He had spent a hundred years feeling guilty for over a century of evil deeds. He had been one of the worst vampires and his memories of that time were filled with horror. But it was something he had grown accustomed to.

But his more recent memories he would never grow accustomed to.

It had all started when the demon had found him. The Whistler had found him on the streets of New York, and had given him a choice. Actually it was a chance. A chance to become someone. But he had just wanted to wallow.

Nonetheless the demon had found a way. He had brought him to Los Angeles, to her.

Less than two weeks he had seen her for, only five separate occasions. But he could summon each effortlessly. They were the only good things in his memory, and he brought them out when he needed strength. Strength to survive, strength not to break, strength to live.

For her sake he had become someone. He had decided to make a difference. But he had failed. When the Master rose he knew what she would have wanted. She was a Slayer, after all.

And so he had tried to protect her people. He had made a stand.

But he was only one, albeit a powerful vampire. But he had to face Luke, Darla, and the other powerful minions. And in the end he had faced the Master himself. And he had lost. Darla had laughed at his broken form, and then taken him home.

Her torture had lasted for months, as she made up for being left so many years ago. Angelus's lover had taught him much of what he had known on the subject of pain, but to Angel she taught the reality of that pain.

And then she had left. The Master sent his powerful minions out into the world. To claim other cities, to extend his empire of night. But Darla's departure brought him no relief, because he was her present to her new child. Willow was her true child. She and Angelus would have been well matched in the old days. Her power was only matched by her cruelty. And all the vampires on the Hellmouth learned to dread her slow smile.

There were only two things she wanted as she took over at the Master's right hand. And she got them both. She got the right to her consort of choice, the boy Xander. And she got him, to torture.

After a month of play, the Master had taken him from her. He had been installed as a living, or unliving, trophy at the new lair; the old club called the Bronze. The vampires had taken it, and turned it from a place of life to a place of death. Every night the vampires who were not hunting partied like the teenagers so many had been less than a year ago.

He had watched it all. In his cage he had seen the vampires. He had seen the humans. And he had seen the humans die. For eighteen months he had been tormented every night by the sights and sounds of death and pain. When the Master was feeling generous or a minion had pleased him, a gift would be given. And most often that gift was an hour or so to play with him.

After all he could endure and heal from more pain then any human.

Thus he had earned the named Puppy from Willow and her vampires.

All of these memories tormented him, but there was something more. She had never come.

Her, Buffy Summers, the Slayer.

He had had two years of time to reflect on the new Slayer. He had only seen her a handful of times, at a distance. But he had loved her. He did love her. Now and forever. A girl, woman, that he had never spoken to, that had never seen him, and he loved her. Without a single doubt, he acknowledged that fact. It was the only truth in his existence.

He had promised himself that he would wait, and so he was waiting. Still. Two years later he was waiting. He had tried to be what she wanted, someone to be counted, but he had failed. But the only thing that kept him clinging to life was his promise; he would wait for her. He would be here to help her when she came.

Somehow, still, his worst torment was that she was not here, that she was not with him.

And then the door of The Bronze opened. He snapped out of his memories with a start, what human would be stupid enough to be here? Even during the day? And then he saw something that convinced him he was insane.

Her.

Here. She was here. Finally.

Her eyes passed over the room seeing everything, but letting nothing in the vampire lair touch her. Not even his broken body. She turned and prepared to leave, and he knew that he had to stop her. This was his chance. His only chance. It was too late, but it was all he would ever have.

And for the first time in years he said her name. It was like sunshine on his tongue, "Buffy. Buffy Summers."

She was different then he remembered. Harder. All the innocence was gone. The human girl was all gone, leaving only a Slayer.

He wondered if he could have kept it from happening to her. He would have tried, certainly, to protect her. To not let the darkness tarnish her bright soul and heart. Maybe he would have succeeded, maybe he would have failed, but he would have tried.

Now, however, there was nothing to be done. He knew the look in her eye, he had seen it over countless years, the darkness had already touched her. He had spent two hundred and twenty years in the darkness. Until the moment he had seen her in the afternoon sunlight. She had become his light, his salvation.

But he knew that he could not be hers. He did not know how to be the light, he did not know how to give humanity, and he did not know how to love innocently. For her sake, he would have done his best, but his best would never have been good enough. The only thing he could have done was to protect her from the darkness.

And now he was never going to get the chance.

His dream was a nightmare. There was nothing left to hope for. Nothing left to pray for.

As the vampire Angel led the Slayer Buffy through the streets of the ruined town Sunnydale, he made one more promise.

He would die before she could come to more harm.

There was nothing else he could give her now.

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