Follow the moon to its hiding place**

Except for what I see through his eyes I am in darkness, trapped in my own mind as the demon controls my body. I find the prospect of melding with the demon tempting sometimes. The possibility of release from my pain and regret, from my sorrow and longing, is seductive, but I resist for those I care about.

We sit here in the graveyard, watching the full moon. One of the few things Angelus and I have in common is the way we like watching the moon; it's the only times I don't have to fight him.

As I start my fall from grace**

I still wonder why I didn't sense something about to happen, something wrong, as I drifted off to sleep beside Buffy that rainy, wonderful night. Afterglow? I doubt it. Eighty years of celibacy wasn't _that_ big a deal for me. Happiness? Probably. When you've spent nearly a century brooding over your sins, contentment is something to revel in. Love? Definitely. After Buffy and I made love, I finally _knew_, not just believed, that she loved me every bit as much as I loved her. I would have fallen even more deeply in love with her if it had been possible.

Oh, black rose**

I used to dream about our first night together, planning it all out. I would have played music and lit candles, made it as romantic as I could. But when it did happen, I couldn't pull away from Buffy to do any of those things, the need-the craving-was too overwhelming to stop. I don't think she would have let me if I could, her desire was as great as mine was.

Take illusion and disguise**

I tried to tell her what would happen, what I would have to do, but Buffy just silenced me with a finger on my lips, then replaced it with her own mouth.

I once told Buffy that I could walk like a man, but I wasn't one. As she helped me undress that feeling-one of my deepest beliefs-faded away. During that time in my bed, in her arms with nothing between us, the illusion became real. The disguise became the truth and I was a man, not a monster.

You scorn the truth, believe the lies**

I told her all along that she didn't truly know me, couldn't until she knew the deepest truths of my kind. How we live, what drives us-me as well as the others. Buffy always scorned the idea that I would hurt her, right from the start. I wasn't convinced; Buffy had to force me to trust myself with her. With every kiss, every touch, my confidence grew against my will. Buffy was right in a way, I never have hurt her.

Unfortunately, the demon now in control of my body has no such scruples. For more than two hundred years, the demon and I have been one and the same. It's only now, as the broken curse turns me into a prisoner in my own mind, that Angelus and I become separate.

There is no answer, heaven knows**

I had always been convinced that there was no possibility of forgiveness, or redemption. There was no hope for me, until I kissed the Slayer and tasted it on her lips. There was no heaven for me, until I made love with Buffy and tasted it in her blood.

Oh, black rose**

Buffy always reminded me of the black roses my grandmother grew. Their midnight petals were so soft, with just a touch of dark violet shading at the tips and where they joined the stems. They looked so beautiful and delicate, but they could withstand the strongest winds, the most furious storms, and only lose a single petal. Nothing Buffy faced has affected her except coming back from the dead and she managed to shake that off too, after a little time and some constructive skeleton-crushing.

Nothing except my curse breaking.

And I've waited for so long**

As I kissed her and caressed her naked body, I couldn't stop myself from shaking in wonder and anticipation. I had spent so many days dreaming of being with someone who knew everything I was and loved me still, spent so many hours fantasizing about Buffy and I together in every way, that I had difficulty believing it was happening until the very second our bodies joined. I thought that the delight, the gratification couldn't build any higher when I let my face shift. I was afraid that Buffy wouldn't understand, but she just kissed me then guided my mouth to her throat.

**It's now or never and the hour's late

I want this moment, right or wrong**

I still don't know whether Giles or Willow told her that tidbit of vampire lore. Maybe she just knew.

Her skin parted so easily beneath my fangs. Her blood felt so good flowing over my tongue. She tasted of rapture, tasted like ecstasy and I could feel it spread through my body as she shuddered and gasped beneath me in pleasure.

I could taste her love and trust, and it made me so happy.

Right up until the very second Jenny Calendar's neck snapped, I wouldn't have changed a thing. For me, those moments of happiness were worth every bit of misery it led to. Right or wrong, I didn't care. I still don't.

There is no answer, heaven knows**

Jenny found the answer. When I realized that she had found a way to bring me back, I couldn't dare hope. I had dared to hope that Buffy could love me despite what I was and look how that turned out. I hope Jenny's soul can forgive mine for not saving her. It's all I can do to stop Angelus from killing Buffy, and I can only do that because it isn't just the human part of me that loves her.

Oh, black rose**

I try to recall, but I don't remember ever bringing Buffy flowers. I wish I had brought her roses every day. It's strange, but as Angelus and I sit here in the moonlight, I wish that above all things.

I wish I were standing here in the moonlight with Buffy, holding a black rose from my grandmother's garden in my hand. I wish I could brush its velvety petals across her lips.

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