Introduction
	For a long time I lived with solitude. So long that it became a dark companion, taking on a life and shape of its own, a mantle in which to cloak my brooding form. In this guise I wandered unseen through the world above. And many wonders did I find there. Yet none more wondrous, more terrible or alluring did I find than the one called the Slayer. Yes, the Slayer. She who into each generation is born, she who would be my mortal enemy. If she were real...
	Yes, demons do exist. For I am one of them. But she is merely a construct, a confabulation of ideas and themes made real by an extraordinary girl and the magic of the above-worlders - this technology called television. It confounds me, draws me into its influence. Yet it soothes my pain. Although this Slayer, this 'Buffy' is an illusion made by humans, in her story and those of her companions I recognise something of myself and my world. The pain of the foresaken, the trials of the living - and the dead. For I was outcast from my kind long ago. My brethren shunned me, my siblings feared me. They looked upon me strangely, as though I was transformed, unclean. Perhaps I was...
	I remembered the endless years banished to the underworld, slaving for my demonic masters, forced to repeat the soul destroying mantra: I am nothing! I am nothing! I rejoiced with the Slayer and her companion when they escaped from that underworld, just as I remembered my own escape from that hellhole and my decision to be who I had to be. I witnessed new creatures being born, grateful for the release from their old identities, and ready to wreak havoc on their tormentors and the free. I revelled in the uncanny portrayals of my kind, which seemed to give succour to my own existence and my true nature. The sight of the human Willow (and Buffy) turned vamp was oddly appealing. That strange, bookish little vampire reminded me of my scholarly youth, when I was first drawn to the tomes of demon lore. I smiled. Watcher Giles' library of such lore, which was so often used against us, caused me to fairly salivate. Even as, time and time again, I witnessed the eventual destruction of my kind and the thwarting of their vengeance, I learned a new sympathy for humanity. The vampire, Spike, spoke for me when he claimed an allegiance to the pleasures of this world. 'Manchester United!' I spluttered with recognition, and my laughter rang loud throughout my chambers. I felt sadness for the child who, ignored for so long, had become invisible; I mourned for the humans who, locked in their mortal  cocoons, could not communicate their needs and desires. Like the vampire, Angel, I felt remorse for my crimes and sought redemption. And at the same time my own nature forced me to re-commit. I smelled the skin of the humans I yearned to drain and devour, I lingered over the virgins I longed to deflower. I wondered what it was like to possess a soul, to walk in the light and claim a new birthright. To know love, to savour the sweet sadness of a mortal life, only to die protecting my fellow creatures from demons...like myself. It was as if my own human doppleganger walked the Earth even now, and we were both tainted by the transcendent connection between us. The demon within him, the human within me...
	In the seasons when she was gone the solitude was terrible. I sought to take my vengeance upon those who had withdrawn her from me. But to no avail. Desperate for more stories of the Slayer, I enlisted the help of one ghoulish human (who had cable) to obtain some episodes for me. He proved useful, so I did not kill him. And like me, he was soon ensnared by the Slayer and her ways. One relative, a pretty little bat-faced niece, disdainful of my banishment came to visit me once. To my surprise, she enjoyed the Slayer as much as I did. We passed the hours happily swapping stories and exchanging dialogue. Soon, more of my brethren appeared. They too had become ensnared by the Slayer. None of them thought me strange. The walls of my tomb rang as we all thrilled to tales of a soulless Angelus, and the sad, star-crossed fate of the Slayer and her vampire lover. The Slayer's strength and humanity were overpowering. With each passing episode we all felt great changes stirring within. I felt myself changing, becoming less solitary. My demonic visage was fading. For a time, I was human.
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