One of the things Angel had come to recognize over the years was that he was still Angelus. It was something he knew from the beginning, but had allowed that perception to change when he allowed Whistler to direct him to Sunnydale. In the days prior to him losing his soul, Angelus was I; he spoke of his actions as being his, one person. After and when he came back from Acathla's hell, it had been we, he and I. It was how they'd put it. He wasn't Angelus and although that had made little sense to him, he'd gone along with it, for arguing with them hadn't seemed worth it; they would believe what they wanted to believe. His mistake lied in allowing himself to believe it, to give him an easy out to his guilt by brushing it off as the result of the actions of a split personality and thus ones he couldn't be held accountable for.

He hadn't had a soul when he did those terrible things, but he was still him. In his nature and unable to fight it or not while without a soul, he was still one person. He was still Angelus as much as he was still Liam. Going by different names didn't change that.

Angel stopped as well, lifting a hand to brush the back of his fingers against her cheek. "Something wrong, princess?"