Gunn walked into the W&H library where Wesley, Fred and Lorne were busy looking through hundreds of volumes. "Find anything yet?"
"Well", Wesley pointed at two dusty books in a corner, "those are the ones we've been able to rule out so far."
Gunn picked up one of the discarded books. "Manifestations of the demon Azarath, huh? And the rest..."
"Well, let's just say we have a lot of options. Demon possession isn't exactly rare, I'm afraid. Was your trip to the White Room helpful?"
"Hard to tell", Gunn frowned. "But the conduit did say something about old ones and forgotten scrolls."
"Of course!" Wesley's eyes lit up as he picked up one of his can-recall-any-text-in-the-entire-universe-books and spoke to it softly enough to make Fred feel jealous. "Search the oldest texts for any references to the still remaining Old Ones, cross-referenced with demon possessions, sarcophagi, and The Complete Calvin And Hobbes." Wesley opened the book and lots of text in five different alphabets and the occasional cartoon tiger filled the pages. "Ah, yes. This looks a likely candidate. It's called Illyria, a great monarch and warrior of the demon age, murdered by rivals in an epic snowball battle and left adrift in the Deeper Well – a burial ground, a resting place of all the remaining Old Ones."
"This one ain't restin'", Gunn pointed out. "How did an ancient evil end up at Wolfram & Ha... OK, that bit makes sense. But why would it want to possess a stuffed wolf?"
"I have no idea", Wesley answered with dawning horror. "But if we don't stop it, this being could take him over completely. It will gradually burn him out of his own body until there's nothing left."
Fred grimaced. "Eww. That's gotta... suck."
"Indeed. So the question is, how do we..."
Just then the wooden door to the library was shattered in spectacular fashion as somebody was thrown right through it, crashing into and being buried under the huge pile of books. Before they had time to look who it was, Marcus Hamilton stepped through the door straightening his tie.
"Christ, man, don't you ever KNOCK like normal people?" Gunn got ready to fight.
"I apologize", Hamilton smiled. "Force of habit. Actually, I'm here to help."
"Sure you are, pound cake." Lorne turned to the others. "Um, I'm thinking maybe we should am-scray? Because, this guy? Trouble, as in BIG."
"But..." Hamilton looked annoyed.
"Lorne's right, Hamilton." Wesley stood up, casually letting Hamilton see that he was armed with his usual handgun. "As liaison to the senior partners, you're about the last person we would be likely to trust right now."
"But..." Hamilton looked frustrated.
"You heard the man." Gunn crossed his arms. "Beat it."
Hamilton lost his patience. "Gorramit, Mal! This ain't the war! Those mao-tse-tung reavers are gonna..." He noticed everyone staring at him, cleared his throat and got in character again. "What I mean to say is, we have common interests here. The senior partner's don't want to see Angel killed any more than you do... yet... and I am trying to give you a hand."
Wesley regarded him suspiciously. "And what kind of hand would that be?"
"Coming from him, it's probably an evil hand", Fred muttered.
"That was three years ago", Lindsey McDonald slurred as he managed to crawl out from under the pile of books. "I know us Texans can be slow sometimes, darlin', but get with the program."
Wesley quickly drew his gun and pointed it at Lindsey. "What are you doing here?"
"Beats the hell out of me", the Texan grumbled as he scowled at Hamilton. "I was in my hell dimension, minding my own business, when this asshole shows up and drags me back to LA to save Angel of all people. Needless to say, I'm not here of my own free will."
"Oh, behave yourself." Hamilton picked Lindsey up by the neck and tossed him across the room, then turned to the others. "As I'm sure you already know, Lindsey here happens to be one of the foremost experts on demons in the world. I thought maybe he knows something useful."
Wesley turned to Lindsey. "Of course. You've studied everything going on here for years, not to mention Angel. I suggest", he cocked his gun, "that you tell us how we can fight this. Now."
"'We'?" Lindsey chuckled, wiping some blood from the corner of his mouth. "You can't do anything. It's up to Angel."
"You mean he can fight this thing?"
"Well, duh. He's a champion, right? He can fight anything if he has a reason to. Question is if he can find the right thing to fight it with. He can kick that demon all the way back to the Deeper Well, but he's going to need something really powerful to draw strength from. The strongest emotion there is."
"Love?" Fred asked.
Lindsey winked at her. "Yeah, right. What'd ya think, this is some kind of fairytale? Give him a cuddle, give him a kiss, scratch him behind his fuzzy li'l ears and he'll be fine? Love is nice, people, but in the end it never does anything but complicate things. I mean, do any of you think I came back here just to jump in the sack with Eve? There is always something stronger than love, especially when it comes to demons: Hate. That's what he's going to need. And knowing Angel and his big hangup on good and evil – not to mention what happened the last time he went dark – somehow I don't see him letting that take over again." Then he laughed the Triumphant Evil Laugh Of I've Finally Got To See My Arch Nemesis Get What He Deserves.
Meanwhile, in Wesley's office, Spike was still regaling an ever more agitated Angel with his tales of Spuffyness. "And then there was the time when we were in my crypt, and ooooh, you know that thing Buffy does with her... no wait, sorry, you don't know that, right? Awww, too bad. You really missed out, mate, really. Did you ever even get to see her naked? I mean properly, in good lighting and everything? Man."
By now the little stuffed demon god/werewolf was so furious he was starting to turn red. Which, considering he was also in the process of turning blue, gave him a very interesting shade of purple. He kept snapping at Spike's heels, occasionally casting a furious glance around the office.
"Oh", Spike grinned. "I know what you want. Back in half a mo." He got up and started looking around the office, breaking open four or five cabinets before he found what he was looking for and returned to Angel. "THIS is what you want, right? I knew all that pig's blood wasn't good for you." He held up Mr Gordo.
Angel made to grab the pig, but Spike moved it out of his reach just as he was about to get a hold of it. "Oh, sorry. Here, take it." Angel tried again, and Spike quickly tossed the pig from his right hand to his left so Angel couldn't get it. "Man, you really want this, don't you?" Angel glared at him and made another jump, his little teeth snapping shut just an inch below Mr Gordo. "Alright then, sorry for messing with ya. Here, take it. Oooooops!" Again, Spike snatched Mr Gordo away just as Angel made a move for him. "Hehehe. I could go on all night. But alright, take it. HA!" And again. "Awww, poor little puppy. Does puppy want his wittle toy? Alright then, here ya go, boy. HA! Too slow! OK, for real this time. I'm really going to let you have the pig... next time!"
And that was it. As Spike yanked Mr Gordo away from Angel once again, he could have sworn there was actual steam coming out of Angel's ears. Then the little bluish wolf howled with fury and lunged at his throat hard enough to knock him over onto his back... and then it began to change.
First the blue colour faded from his fur.
Then the synthetic hair started looking more life-like.
Then the hair started retreating from most of his body, except the top of his head where it became a lot pointier.
Then he started growing.
Then his skin started turning more... uh, skin-like.
Until finally, just as the others walked in, it was the Angel of old, flesh and bones, vamped-out and naked sitting on top of Spike, yelling at him and beating the everloving feces out of him. "You BASTARD! Do you have ANY idea how ANNOYING that is? How annoying YOU are? I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"
Gunn pointed. "Hey look! Angel is OK again!"
"Yay!" Fred clapped her hands together with joy.
"And he's... beating up Spike."
"Yeah. Y'all think we should stop him?"
Wesley held her back. "Give him five minutes. I want to be sure he's not evil."
"Well... if he's beating up Spike, he's got to be good, right?"
"That depends; if he stakes him, he's probably evil. Let's wait and see." Wesley looked around and saw Knox crouching in the doorway, sobbing helplessly at the loss of his God. "Why is Knox crying?"
Fred shrugged. "Oh, who cares."
Angel finally knocked Spike out cold, looked up and saw the others. "Oh. Hey guys." Suddenly realizing he was naked, he reached for the closest object and held it strategically in front of him. "What's... up?"
At which point everyone except Angel (and, obviously, Knox and Spike) finally burst into laughter. Part of it was relief, but also... well, darnit, there's just something inherently comical about a naked, slightly overweight vampire holding a fuzzy pink pig in front of his naughty bits.
Author's note: almost the end. There's an epilogue coming up. For the record, I like Spike, but this is an Angel fic so I tend to write him as Angel sees him.