DISCLAIMER: Buffy/Angel/Whistler = Not mine. Never gonna be mine, unless
my diabolical plan for world domination succeeds and I am able to take over
Joss Whedon. The rest of the characters, such as they are, are figments of
my rather alarming imagination. I'm just fixing Joss-God's mess. He did a
Very Mean Thing to Buffy and Angel, and I'll be damned if I'll leave it
alone.
RATED: R for massive amounts of angst, some humor, some cursing, and a wee
bit of emotional upheaval.
DEDICATED: To THE LEATHER PANTS, from which I draw so much of my
inspiration.
*****
"And when the sun goes down
And the moonlight's shining through
Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
I'll come crawling on back to you"
Meat Loaf "Bat Out Of Hell"
*****
Committee Headquarters
June 14, 1998 (Middle Earth Time)
Twelve members of the Committee sat at the conference table, arguing amongst themselves. They were awaiting the thirteenth member, who was perpetually tardy. That same scene had been played out, with few variations, for the last two thousand years.
A short brunette woman shouted to be heard over the din. "What he has done this time is inexcusable. It's one thing to mess up a single life, which is bad ENOUGH, but by his foolhardiness, he may end up allowing the advent of Armageddon."
An older, bald man glared at her from across the table. "Lessandra, he couldn't have known this was going to happen, that Acathla would be found, that the Slayer would be required to..."
Lessandra met his gaze. "Rathe, if he had *bothered* to do his homework, he would have been able to predict this and he *would* have realized the trouble that was brewing. He was supposed to watch Angel to make sure something like this never happened, but instead he dropped the ball. Not only did he *lose* him long enough for Angel to be made into a vampire, he then let Angel run amuck for all those years, and then, oh THEN, he let the Gypsies plague the man with an extremely stupid, inane curse."
Rathe inclined his head, noting her point. "I'm not saying that you are wrong, but blaming the entire course of events on Whistler is a bit extreme. Just because your personal feelings -- "
She stood, the look on her face cutting off his words. "Don't you EVER speak of that to me. Never again, do you hear me, Rathe? The personal relationship between Whistler and myself is none of the Committee's concern."
"ENOUGH!!," a voice boomed from the opposite end of the room. Rathe, Lessandra, and the others turned around to see who addressed them. They were shocked to see Him standing behind them. Lessandra was the first to react, dropping to her knees before Him.
"My Lord, forgive us. We did not mean to offend thee with our prattle. We are merely concerned for the Slayer."
"As am I," He continued. "But arguing amongst ourselves will get nothing done. There has to be a solution to this problem. That is your job, people. You are solution providers."
His eyes scanned over the assemblage. Lessandra still knelt before him, her cloud of brown curls obscuring her face. Rathe stood rigidly at attention, ever the soldier. The others huddled around the table. Jonas, Mae, Aidan, Simone, Crispin, Gabriel, Michael, Tamarin, Dathan, and Laetitia held themselves still, unwilling to involve themselves in an old argument.
It was into this tense scene that Whistler strolled. Every eye swung around and focused on him. He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I know I'm late but --"
"No buts, Whistler, haven't you done enough?" Lessandra interrupted quickly.
She was silenced from a sharp glance from Him. Whistler paused, noting His presence. "Uhh, my Lord, I wasn't aware that you were going to be at this meeting, otherwise I --"
" -- Would have made an effort to be here on time. I know. You've not changed in the two thousand years that I've known you, so why would you change now?"
Whistler had the grace to look embarrassed.
"As I was saying to the rest of the group before your untimely arrival, we need to figure out how to get the Slayer back on track as soon as possible. Her actions are going to not only get herself killed, but when she is dead, we may just lose the fight against the Dark One."
"That's just it -- she doesn't want to live. Uh, without Angel, anyway." Whistler spoke up, trying to explain Buffy's strange actions to the rest of the Committee. "She sent him to Hell. She's not dealing well. That's about it. She's just biding her time, waiting until somebody faster and stronger gets a hold of her and then she'll finally be where she wants to be, dead in the ground. She has too much pride to take her own life, so she's gonna continue to leave herself wide open until someone else takes her up on it."
The group murmured to each other, concerned at this twist of events. Crispin stood up from his seat. "I think the solution here is obvious."
"What would that be?" Mae shot back, "Give the Slayer a stern talking-to about her duties? I think she's at the end of her rope. She's become a liability. I say we cut our losses and concentrate on training a new Slayer, one that is more capable of handling her duties."
Simone jumped up, enraged. "So you want us to let the Slayer die? After all the good she has done, after the number of times she has saved the Earth, you want to just cut her loose? Sayanara, sweetheart? Are you that unfeeling, Mae?"
Crispin cut them off with a wave of his hand. "My solution is the most direct. If Angel is a condition of the Slayer's mental health, so be it. I say we give him to her."
"I hate to point this out here, but Angel's in Hell, not in New York. It's not just a question of *airfare*," Gabriel mentioned with a frown. "He's going to have to be broken out of Hell."
Aidan smiled, the half-smile that so frightened those surrounding him. "It's not as if it's never been done before."
Abruptly, He stepped in. "You know that I cannot condone a trip into Hell to rescue Angel. It's directly violating every agreement we have in place with the Dark One. You all know that."
The Committee looked discouraged.
Then He continued. "However, having said that, if any of you were to go without my permission, well, I would have no way of knowing that and no way of punishing you."
Rathe grinned, a full toothed predators' grin. "Of course, we would never go against your wishes, my Lord."
"I'm sure, Rathe. Since none of you have ever gone behind my back..."
The Committee looked abashed. He smiled. "It's really a pity that Angel can't be broken out of Hell, because if he were, he would find that I had restored his soul completely, with no conditions. He would be free to be with the Slayer for her lifetime. But since he's in Hell, it's a moot point..."
Whistler was suddenly happy, truly happy, for the first time since Buffy had sent her boyfriend to his Eternal Damnation. They were going to save Angel, and by doing that, save Buffy too. It was all that a demon could ask.
After dispensing his non-advice, He took His leave, fading grandly from the room. The Committee members looked around to each other, relieved that there was a now a plan to save the day.
Lessandra walked back to her seat. "The only question remains is how, precisely, do we get him out? It is my understanding that Angel has to be willing to leave of his own volition. Someone just needs to go down and help him out."
All eyes once again turned towards Whistler. He backed up a few paces from the strength of their collective gaze. "Hey, hey, hey, I don't do Hell. I don't deal well under all that pressure, and the heat, I -- I burn easily. My skin is fragile. Very sensitive. I use Oil of Olay and everything."
Rathe glanced at him. "I don't see that you have a choice, Whistler. The Slayer and Angel are your responsibilities, and so far, you have made a serious hash of things. This very well may be the only way you have of redeeming yourself."
Dathan concurred. "Rathe's right, man. You have to be the one to show Angel the way out and then get him to the Slayer. You're the closest one to the situation. They trust you."
"A lot of good that did them," Lessandra snorted. Whistler glared at her.
Whistler looked around, searching for any sign of support. There was none to be found. Everyone looked pretty determined to him. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, he nodded. "Apparently, I don't have a choice, so I guess I'll be flying Immortal Airlines direct non-stop to the sunny gates of Hell."
The Committee was pleased.