She sees him (smells the soul) and it’s painful in ways that are nothing like the pleasure he used to give (take).
She remembers (hates the memories – make them go away) and if there were a way to turn back the time (so much time, too much time), she would change… Yes, she would change that day. Give her darling boy another gift or nothing at all – nothing but herself.
Was she ever enough for him? Maybe once (once upon a time, but she’s not Drusilla and this is no one’s fairy tale), but his eye always wandered sooner or later, didn’t it?
But not with the soul, no. Now she can tell that all he sees is Buffy… the Slayer. Eyes locked on that hideous creature the way hers are locked on him.
She hates him with all the love she’s felt since she first saw him, drunk and stinking, in that Irish alleyway; the night she promised him the world and gave him eternity. He gives her nothing now (it’s her own fault and she hates him all the more).
Every time she sees him, she wants to take back everything she ever gave him. (She wants to give him everything and make him take it.)
She hates him. It’s nothing like love.
(It is love.)