The Price We Pay for Love - Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four: Fragment
Several Weeks Later, August
For so many years, he had been a cliché. As an Irishman, Angel had been besotted by whiskey; as a soulless vampire, he lived for the blood, whether consumed or spilled for his pleasure and enjoyment. Yes, he had been infamous for his cruelty, but what other vampire of his time hadn't been capable of the same level of violence? They had either chosen to be more discreet, or their exploits had simply not been as thoroughly recorded. No matter the reason, his fellow bloodsuckers had been far less of a stereotype.
Once he regained his soul, though, suddenly, Angel had become unique for the first time in his life, and he was distinctly aware of the fact, almost proud of it despite his otherwise rather melancholic state of emotions. As far as he was aware, no other vampire had lived for decades in squalor and suppressed appetite, and he knew, when it came to his most recent history, he was one of a kind. He had loved a slayer - still did no matter how confused his feelings towards Buffy were at the moment, and she had returned his love. He had been returned from hell. He fought for the powers that be. He had friends. He had a daughter.
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