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I can feel him.

When I go to sleep, if I go to sleep, I can feel his pain and his terror. The spell worked and Buffy apparently sent her one true love to hell with his soul. Angel is suffering and it’s all my fault. I never meant for this to happen.

No one’s really noticed yet that I’m more quiet and withdrawn. We’ve been too busy, what with Buffy abandoning us to the tender mercies of the Hellmouth and all. I’m not eating; how can I when I know what he’s going through? I’m getting weaker and I’m going to get myself killed if I’m not careful. Some days I don’t think that would be a bad thing.

I can feel him.

I am so sorry, Angel, so very, very sorry.


I can feel her.

In my darkest hours- and let’s be honest, that’s most of the time in this place- I can feel her innocence and purity. Even born and raised on the Hellmouth, Willow has managed to remain untainted by its darkness. She doesn’t belong there.

So young, so sweet, and so very powerful to do what she did. She gave me back my soul. I’m certain she didn’t mean for me to wind up in a hell dimension with it. I wonder what Buffy has told her?

Her faint presence is all that keeps me from succumbing. I would have lost all sense of self by now if it weren’t for her. Maybe that’s a bad thing, having hope in this hell, but it’s all I’ve got.

I can feel her.

She is my light in the darkness.

Thank you, Willow.