Summary/Content: Buffy and Angel were not the only
ones affected by Angel becoming mortal. Is there a
way Angelus can use it to his advantage?
Spoilers: Everything up to and including IWRY.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox,
and Mutant Enemy.
*****
It was a small, nondescript office, complete with
a fake potted plant and Muzak playing in the background. The walls
were painted a cream color, and the floor was a tired but serviceable green
linoleum. Old plastic chairs were lined in rows through the room, each seat
filled by yet another disreputable-looking creature. The receptionist sat
at the front of the room, handing out numbers without comment to each new
arrival. In fact, based solely on appearances, there was no indication that
this was the intake office for the outer ring of hell.
Time moved differently in the office, it was almost meaningless there. The
creatures in the chairs waited, sometimes for what felt like centuries, to
learn their fate. Many of the denizens of the plastic chairs had lost their
nerve over the years and were weeping and repenting. Those who were not penitent
were talking animatedly among themselves. Some bragged about how close they
had come to pulling a scheme off. Others were trading plans for future dark
deeds, in case all of that reincarnation stuff proved to be true. Three sisters
in the back clutched at a cell phone and actively plotted an escape. One
argued vociferously, "How can Aaron Spelling tell us that he doesn't know
how to get the three of us out, just because Joss
Whedon hasn't done an identical story yet? Hasn't he figured out the formula?
Whenever there's a problem, a fix-it spell conveniently happens to be in
the Book of Shadows, and someone says it."
"I am so mad at Leo right now," growled another sister. "If Leo had given
me a ring, Aaron says it would have sucked me out of here by now." At suspicious
looks from her sisters, she added, insincerely, "Of course, then I would
have worked with Aaron to find a way to get you guys out too. If we couldn't
rescue you, then I would be the only star on the show," she said wistfully,
hopefully, eyeing the ceiling as if expecting a rope to fall from it.
Amid all of the babbling voices, one creature was silent, refusing to speak.
He sat in the plastic chair, tapping his foot, visibly enraged. Having been
forcibly dissuaded from throwing those with numbers ahead of him out of the
office and into the flaming pit of lava outside, he seethed.
"Number 11472," intoned the receptionist in a dull, exhausted voice.
The angry creature stopped tapping his foot and jumped up. He approached
the desk and got a good look at the receptionist. "Gwendolyn Post," he purred.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. What a responsible position you have,"
he sneered, eyeing the computer before her, the industrial sized stack of
papers beside it.
"You should be so lucky to get a job like mine," she retorted. "As miserable
as it is having to type all of these memos with only one hand, I'm quite
certain its an improvement to whatever is in store for you. After all, I
only got a job this close to the power center because I went out with a bang.
You didn't do so much, did you? In fact," she snickered, "you didn't arrive
here because of any evil plan at all."
Number 11472 glared at her for a moment, then, recognizing the truth of her
statement, bowed his head in shame. Post used her remaining arm to point
to an entryway behind her, made of intricately carved marble. "He's waiting
for you in there."
The inner chamber was constructed of black marble, and lit by torches. As
the creature walked in, he could hear faint, far-off screams in the distance
and he visibly brightened. At the center of the room, there was a throne.
As he approached, the creature could see that this specimen of the torturer's
art was constructed of bones. He looked at the throne's occupant, and his
face fell.
"Hello, Angelus," said the Richard Wilkins. "Its been a while. I must admit,
I did not expect you to arrive this early. But its good to have a chance
to place someone with your talents. You wouldn't believe some of the people
I have to deal with here. The trouble that I had finding Principal Snyder
something to do-"
Angelus interrupted the flow of speech abruptly. "I don't care about anyone
but me, and I waited long enough to get in to see you," he growled.
"Now, now, Angelus," the Mayor chuckled, "is that really necessary? Please
try to remember that courtesy wins respect. I am the Mayor of hell, just
as I was the Mayor of Sunnydale. Since I assign jobs to new arrivals, believe
me, you want my respect."
After that icy comment, the Mayor stayed silent, extending no further sign
of welcome, Angelus knew he would need all of his cunning.
"I'm really sorry about Angel helping to ruin your Ascension," said Angelus
carefully. "I had nothing to do with that, you know. I wasn't driving." The
Mayor looked neither pleased nor displeased. Angelus was not fooled, knowing
the Mayor was likely still bitter about the Ascension. "The way I see it,
you need to take a little responsibility for the failures of your
administration. That demon sorcerer you hired couldn't get rid of that pesky
soul," he said boldly. "I was ready, willing and able to hop on the outlaw
train with you."
"I realize that, Angelus, which is why I am prepared to offer you a deal.
You still want to destroy Buffy, don't you? That new girl, Kate, hasn't put
any disloyal thoughts in that head of yours, has she?"
At the sudden sparkle in Angelus's feral eyes, the Mayor beamed, rubbing
his hands. "Wonderful, wonderful. I have found a way to send you back to
Sunnydale in a new body. We've pinpointed someone who is going to be vamped
and we're going to send you in, instead of a new demon. You will be able
to kill Angel, and you get the bonus of killing Buffy."
"A new body," mused Angelus suspiciously. "What new body? Do you mean that
someone is going to get vamped, and instead of a brand new demon being based
on that person's personality using the body, you're going to send me?"
"Bright penny!"
Angelus mused over the possibilities for a moment, looking for tricks in
the offer. "A male body?" Angelus asked sharply. Reassured by the Mayor's
nod, Angelus considered further, examining all of the angles. "Will I have
its memories?"
"I'm afraid so," said the Mayor. "The technology is so new, we haven't worked
out all of the kinks yet. There might be some small, tiny, minuscule blendings
of your personality with that of the person who used to have the body, but
don't worry, you will be the dominant personality. It won't be like it was
with Angel. You'll remember things, that's all."
Angelus eyed him suspiciously. "Some blending, I suppose, would be all right,
depending on whose body it is. Who is it?" he inquired, hoping for the
best.
"A young man in Sunnydale already known to the Slayer, which will make it
all the easier for you to play your games with her before you go in for the
kill. Or the turning. What do you have planned for Buffy, anyway?"
"Whatever souls are made of, Buffy's and mine are the same. Conversely, when
we are soulless beings, we are still meant to be. I'll turn her, make her
like me, and we'll be together always. Forever, that's the whole point,"
Angelus concluded. "However, you didn't answer my question: whose body is
it?"
The Mayor sighed a little. "His name is Riley Finn. I believe you saw him
over Thanksgiving..." The Mayor paused, stunned at the keening howl that
came from Angelus, who fell to his knees before the throne.
"I refuse! Please! You can't make me! I can't do it!" shrieked Angelus. "I
won't, I won't, I won't!"
"What's the problem?" The Mayor peered at him curiously. "Riley is an attractive
young man. A lot of people like him," he said brightly. "That down-home charm
of his will help you sneak up on Buffy and destroy her. She'll never see
you coming."
Angelus rose from his knees, tearing at his hair with his hands. "Those who
like him must be out of their minds. You don't know. You've never had a good
look at him. Riley is sartorially challenged. He could never get away with
wearing black leather pants. Or black silk shirts. Or a long black duster."
Angelus looked down at his coat fondly. "He'd look ridiculous in my kind
of clothes. He's a farm-fed country boy who would only look right if he was
clothed by the Gap. I won't go through eternity in that body, with little
bits of his Forrest Gump personality corrupting mine."
"It would only seep in a little," persuaded the Mayor. "You learned
a lot of useful things from Angel, why not learn a little from Riley?"
"What he has to teach I don't want to learn. I don't want to milk cows, or
learn about cheese." Angelus paced, his duster flapping, arms gesticulating
frantically. "Buffy would never stay with me if I was in that body. Her vampire
self would see me as a joke. Her human self wouldn't even be scared
of me in Riley's body. I can just see myself, clad in velvet and leather,
leaving pictures and roses on her bed again, only this time she would wake
up, see me, and start laughing. No way. No deal. Find another body."
The Mayor laughed uneasily. "Its not that simple. We can't predict who's
going to be vamped very easily. We just look for likely targets. In fact,
the reason we know Riley will be turned is because he is not very bright.
Without his weapons, he will inevitably be vamped. Sooner or later, he'll
forget them, or run out of ammunition. I can't think of another man quite
as stupid who is as close to Buffy. Reconsider, Angelus." The Mayor's
eyes hardened, his voice was cold. "The only other job I have available right
now would not amuse you."
*****
In the laundry room, Angelus sighed. It was so hard to get the bloodstains
out of Satan's ceremonial robes. His hands were seemingly permanently wrinkled
from the water, and the bleach made him itch. The Mayor came by to laugh
at him periodically, taunting him. Lost in thoughts of revenge, Angelus stopped
scrubbing for a moment. Instantly, the crack of a whip was heard, and a lash
came down on his back.
"Get back to work," barked the Anointed One.
Scrubbing frantically, his arms in bubbles up to his elbows, Angelus found
himself thinking fondly of Angel, of his self-hatred and refusal to forgive
himself for Angelus's crimes. It was kind of nice, actually, being able to
look through Angel's eyes and feel Angel suffer at least, if he could hurt
no one else. Angelus found himself growing positively teary-eyed at the thought
of never seeing Cordelia again, of never again having the chance to hope
Angel would finally lose his temper, forget his soul and snap her neck.
Suddenly, he felt himself surrounded by a bright light. Screaming, he was
thrown through space. When he regained consciousness, he found himself staring
down at a broken clock on the floor. He tried to move his hands, to bend
over, and realized that he did not control the body he was in. A terrified
thought came to him, that he might be trapped inside Riley, but as the head
looked up, Angelus got a chance to look around. It was Angel's office, and
he felt Angel's pain.
Angelus rejoiced. Dreams did come true.
The End
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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