A/N: This had to be done. It really did. Oh, and something I wanted to address. Spartan, that idea strikes me as so amazing. I don't really want to go there in this story, but I was thinking perhaps of writing a little alternate fic on the side at some point. Perhaps one day. Anyway, onto the goods:
Little Devil, Little Angel
Chapter Six - An Idea of Incredible Proportions
Little hands, little fingers. Covered in red fingerpaint.
"What're you doin'?" Angel asked curiously, trotting over to his twin. He watched, fascinated, as Angelus drew strange symbols on the office wall. "Where'd you get the paint?"
"It's not paint. It's blood."
"Is not."
"Is - okay...it's not," Angelus sighed, dipping his finger into his kiddy palette. "Fred gave it to me." An evil smirk. "Stupid girl." A yelp. "Hey! You pinched me."
Angel looked down at his pincher fingers in surprise. "I guess I did."
The two were silent for a few moments after that. Angelus continued drawing his outlandish symbols and Angel sat himself on the ground, feeling a little bit bored.
"What do those mean?" he finally asked.
Angelus turned around, an incredulous look on his little face. "They're words!"
"No, they're not."
"You're stupid! You can't read!"
"If they're words, then what do they say?"
Angelus pointed to each 'word' in turn as he read. "Evisceration. Is. Fun." A smug look.
"That's it? That's dumb."
The smug look fled to be replaced by one of annoyance. A little hand planted itself wholly on the kiddy palette, only to be dragged along the wall, forming a big, solid, red smudge.
"And what does that say?"
"Angelus is the best."
"Does not."
"Does so."
"Does not!"
"Hey, Wes-"Gunn stopped abruptly at the threshold of the office, staring at the two little hellions. "What are you two doing in here?" He stared at the vandalized wall and whistled. "English ain't gonna be happy about that."
"It was him!" Angelus said quickly, pointing his red hand at Angel.
Gunn snorted. "Yeah, right." He walked hesitantly into the room and snatched up the cleaner of the two hands. "C'mon, Evil Dead. Let's go tell Wesley what you did."
After a few protests, kicks, screams, and finally, bitter grumbling, Angelus allowed the man to lead him out of the office.
Angel stared after them.
Blinked once.
Blinked twice.
Looked around the vacant room.
"What about me?"
He fumbled around the pockets of his little duster and took out the lighter. After a bit of fumbling, he managed to get it to light.
"I'm bad."
A clearing of the throat, a more determined stance.
Then, more deeply, "I'm bad."
A forlorn sigh. Little Angel slumped to the ground in defeat. As bad as he got, he would never be bad enough. Not as bad as Angelus was and that was how bad he had to be to get attention. Angelus got all the attention. He got Gunn's attention and Wesley's attention. He got Cordelia's attention a few days ago when he had smeared her new 'Wow Violet' lipstick all over his face, explaining that it was completely appropriate. Angelus was evil, thus he improvised. There was no blood of the innocent, so he would make the blood of the innocent. This meant that Cordy's expensive cosmetic products were key to Angelus's mental health and emotional development. He had, of course, said this in a less complex series of words. The word evil was screamed many a time while he was dragged kicking and screaming to the corner. A wide array of expletives followed as the manacles were fastened to his tiny wrists.
All the while, Angel had watched from across the room; watched as Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne manhandled his devious twin to the corner; watched as Cordelia paced in front of the bored little vampire, lecturing on the importance of not touching Cordy's things because Cordy's things were, of course, fashionable, expensive, and fabulous; and Fred, nice Fred, had taken a handkerchief and gently wiped his criminal counterpart's face free of the remaining lipstick.
But that hadn't been the worst of it.
Ah, because the worst part was when Will entered the picture. The worst part was when Will released little Angelus from the manacles - when Will sat with Mr. Hyde's Biggest Fan and carefully watched over him, not even sparing Dr. Jekyll's Apprentice a single, solitary glance.
Which led Little Angel to now say,"I'm bad."
And this time, it actually sounded like he meant it.
Later that evening...
Leather pants chafed. Angel didn't know what the word chafe meant, but he knew that's what leather pants did. They were hard to walk in, too. His little steps were stiff and abrupt, unlike Angelus's fluid , graceful movements. It was okay, though. Evil is as evil does, and wearing leather pants? Evil. It had to be.
Angelus did it.
"What are you doing?" Little Angelus, still naked and wet from his recent bath, gave his look-a-like a quizzical look. "Why are you wearing my leather pants? They're MINE. You're not evil enough."
Angel sneered at him.
Angelus had to admit that it was a very convincing sneer.
"Well, if you're taking MY leather pants, then I'm taking YOUR goody goody duster," he huffed, snatching Angel's duster up from where it was neatly folded over their favorite leather chair and pulling it on.
Angel had to admit that his devilish companion looked positively heroic.
That's when the idea hit the Incongruous Duo.
The idea that would eventually lead to complete and total chaos, people running naked in the streets, and the burning of those unneccessary, impoverished villages in third world countries.
...or maybe just a few zany hijinks.
"Should we...?" Little Angel, good at heart, trailed off uncertainly. It would be deceitful. He would be lying.
Little Angelus had no such qualms.
"Let's do it," he said with an air of finality. "Let's switch places."
And despite his good heart, and his brooding soul, all Little Angel could do was nod.
TBC...
