Taking a deep breath, Angelus shrugs. "Pop the soul out, get me to spill my guts, pop it back in." Wandering around the cage, he turns to glance over his shoulder at her. "Because clearly, any time your lot is about to do something incredibly risky in order to protect the hellmouth, you let Angel know."
He reaches up to scratch his chin. "I seem to recall you telling him to stay out of your life. Figured that went both ways." He pivots to face her, hands still behind his back, like a school teacher giving a lecture. "Can't have it both ways, lover. Either you're in, or you're out. Or, you're a hypocrite. 'Stay out of my life, but tell me all about yours?'" Angelus shakes his head, looking disapproving while clicking his tongue at her.
"Insane enough to do anything to save the world? Like messing with soul magic?" he turns back, leaning a shoulder against a bar and gazing at her intently. "Like killing their friend, a person they love... and trust...?" She's got to see the irony in what she's saying. Not that he thinks this is anything like what she did to him, but when has he ever used the truth except when it suits him?
"I resent that," he tells her after she says they're all nuts - clearly also including Angel. "I mean, soulboy, sure - I'm more aware of how whackjob he is than anybody-- but I'm not crazy. I'm psychotic. There's a difference."
When she sits, so does he, settling on the floor in front of the bars with his legs crossed tailor-style, wrists draped over his shins and looking up at her like a schoolboy. He can't help the slow, pleased smile at her question; Wes had asked him something similar, if he knew anything about the Beast, but Buffy's not the brains of the operation, yet she still makes it more insightful than Wes's straightforward phrasing. "I mean, that does sound like an amazing plan. It's like you know me."
He throws his head back a little as he laughs, and while it doesn't sound quite like Angel's, it's definitely not a put-on evil chuckle. He's genuinely pleased. "Maybe if they'd called you in in the first place-- well no, I still wouldn't've spilled my guts.
"I know a lot of things. I even know things about the Beast. More than that--" he leans forward, as if sharing a secret, keeping his eyes on her face. "--I know a little something about memories being manipulated. It's weird, how we share memories sometimes. Mostly it's all the same - I mean, it's gotta be, or he wouldn't be so fucking tortured - but sometimes..." he shrugs. "Sometimes, they're clearly different, and for some reason, Angel can't see what I remember. It's happened before, once. In Sunnydale, actually."
He's so intent on Buffy's reaction, he doesn't even realize Wes has come down, until he catches movement and pins Wes halfway down the stairs with a look so murderous, Wesley should be going up in flames. The former Watcher freezes, even though he does a good job of covering up his startled fear - like Angelus can't hear his heart tripping over itself. "I--thought it best if I turned the monitor back on. Just in case."
He barely gives Wes the chance to finish flipping it on before snarling, "Scram, book-boy. We're having a conversation."
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Taking a deep breath, Angelus shrugs. "Pop the soul out, get me to spill my guts, pop it back in." Wandering around the cage, he turns to glance over his shoulder at her. "Because clearly, any time your lot is about to do something incredibly risky in order to protect the hellmouth, you let Angel know."
He reaches up to scratch his chin. "I seem to recall you telling him to stay out of your life. Figured that went both ways." He pivots to face her, hands still behind his back, like a school teacher giving a lecture. "Can't have it both ways, lover. Either you're in, or you're out. Or, you're a hypocrite. 'Stay out of my life, but tell me all about yours?'" Angelus shakes his head, looking disapproving while clicking his tongue at her.
"Insane enough to do anything to save the world? Like messing with soul magic?" he turns back, leaning a shoulder against a bar and gazing at her intently. "Like killing their friend, a person they love... and trust...?" She's got to see the irony in what she's saying. Not that he thinks this is anything like what she did to him, but when has he ever used the truth except when it suits him?
"I resent that," he tells her after she says they're all nuts - clearly also including Angel. "I mean, soulboy, sure - I'm more aware of how whackjob he is than anybody-- but I'm not crazy. I'm psychotic. There's a difference."
When she sits, so does he, settling on the floor in front of the bars with his legs crossed tailor-style, wrists draped over his shins and looking up at her like a schoolboy. He can't help the slow, pleased smile at her question; Wes had asked him something similar, if he knew anything about the Beast, but Buffy's not the brains of the operation, yet she still makes it more insightful than Wes's straightforward phrasing. "I mean, that does sound like an amazing plan. It's like you know me."
He throws his head back a little as he laughs, and while it doesn't sound quite like Angel's, it's definitely not a put-on evil chuckle. He's genuinely pleased. "Maybe if they'd called you in in the first place-- well no, I still wouldn't've spilled my guts.
"I know a lot of things. I even know things about the Beast. More than that--" he leans forward, as if sharing a secret, keeping his eyes on her face. "--I know a little something about memories being manipulated. It's weird, how we share memories sometimes. Mostly it's all the same - I mean, it's gotta be, or he wouldn't be so fucking tortured - but sometimes..." he shrugs. "Sometimes, they're clearly different, and for some reason, Angel can't see what I remember. It's happened before, once. In Sunnydale, actually."
He's so intent on Buffy's reaction, he doesn't even realize Wes has come down, until he catches movement and pins Wes halfway down the stairs with a look so murderous, Wesley should be going up in flames. The former Watcher freezes, even though he does a good job of covering up his startled fear - like Angelus can't hear his heart tripping over itself. "I--thought it best if I turned the monitor back on. Just in case."
He barely gives Wes the chance to finish flipping it on before snarling, "Scram, book-boy. We're having a conversation."