Far away, in his own wish-granting dimension that he ruled, Lord D'Hoffryn was having a quiet night at home, what with going along with the demonic tradition that Halloween was a time to mind your own business and avoid those ridiculous humans dressing up in their mortifying attempts to imitate supernatural creatures. At present, this purple-scaled fiend was seated in the most comfortable chair inside his study and sipping at a very fine brandy that deserved far better treatment than being then directly hit by a bolt of mystical lightning from on high that now instantly traveled to ground itself into the startled demon aristocrat.
A couple of seconds later, a dazed D'Hoffryn found himself sitting on the scorched floor of his destroyed study, blinking vaguely through the clouds of black smoke that swirled around the room, as ashes that had a moment ago been his chair, his brandy glass, and his fine silk robe pattered down around himself. Slowly gathering his scattered wits, the anxious demon then used his powers to examine himself, to see just exactly what had caused that incredible burst of…
"Chaos magic," groaned D'Hoffryn in both his physical and mental agony, as the answer was revealed to him over that identified specific mystical energy that had recently struck from out of the blue, for whatever reason. Fearfully expecting something utterly catastrophic to then transpire, the demon seated on the floor waited for the next disaster. Only when nothing more happened after a long minute, D'Hoffryn finally staggered upwards onto his taloned feet, to then stumble out of the ruins of his study, in search of some more truly essential alcohol, as the dimensional ruler silently vowed to himself that if nobody else knew about this and nothing untoward came of the recent embarrassing events, he was going to totally ignore what had just occurred, and instead concentrate upon getting as speedily drunk as possible.
Back in Sunnydale, an immense flash of white light abruptly burst through Angel's brain, leaving that man swaying on his feet, as he panted for breath while worriedly pressing the palm of his right hand against the fabric covering his chest, as if to keep from escaping the throbbing heart that seemed as if it was about to leap out-
Waaaaiiit a second. Breathing? A heartbeat? As Angel stared down in shock at his absurdly-clad body, he saw from the corner of his eye something that now absolutely caught his attention. Lifting up his head to look straight at the reflection in the store window that he'd found himself standing in front of this just a second ago, before everything had gone strange, the Irishman now beheld what he never truly dreamed was ever possible.
Someone once named Liam, and then Angelus, who changed this to Angel, had somehow become mortal again. And this utterly human son of the auld sod was now clad in a pink, embroidered sunbonnet hat with a replica of a fruit pinned upon this headwear, itself placed on top of a fire-engine red wig falling down the sides of the aghast man's head, pink greasepaint thickly applied to his face with pale red rouge circles on his cheeks, even more greasepaint slathered upon his bare arms and upper chest bursting out of a bright, colorful, short sundress having over this a crisply-starched white apron with three embroidered green hearts on the front, identically-white bloomers, vertically-striped green and white stockings (there seemed to be some kind of theme going on with these colors), and a pair of big, awkward brown shoes.
Ang- No. He was Liam again, he knew this deep in his very bones, his absolutely humiliated bones, but the human just stood there in his sheer shock, as he frantically tried to figure out what the hell had happened-
"Hello there, cutie-pie," came drifting from somewhere on Liam's right, spoken in an absolutely leering tone. As the man's head in his poofy hat snapped around to stare at where three persons were clustered together on the sidewalk past the shop, the trio of demons located there also shared the same identical lascivious looks directed right at the Crawford Street resident. Liam instantly knew his unwelcome company were demons instead of other costumed people; he even recognized them all.
During Angel's previous forays into Willy's Bar, a local watering hole serving the supernatural community of Sunnydale, to shake down the barkeep for information, the vampire had then casually glanced around that establishment and dismissed with utter contempt those lesser demons in the back that had cowered under their caller's cold stare, bestowed by someone with an immensely terrifying reputation. Unfortunately, now that he was fully human again, Liam knew himself to be no match at all even for third-rate scum like those there that had evidently ventured out on the city's streets tonight for Halloween. It didn't help at all that the familiar unwanted sensations from long ago were now fully introducing themselves once more in the Irishman's cowardly mind and body.
Desperately trying to control both his bladder and his voice, Liam now stuttered, "Look- Look, you've got the wrong idea…," only to trail off in horror at the sound of the frightened squeak from his mouth that had been uttered at the start of his words, which had then abruptly changed into his usual masculine rumble.
The wide smiles slowly appearing upon the unearthly features of the three demons didn't cheer up Liam's mood at all, particularly when the spokesperson for that grotesque group then jovially informed the former vampire, "Oh, don't be so scared, honeybunch! Luckily for you, all of us swing both ways, so why don't we find someplace private and get to know each other better?"
His mouth falling open to reveal pink greasepaint-stained teeth, Liam stared in absolute revulsion at the trio of demons beginning to step closer, and when their leader at the forefront of the pack of monsters now actually winked at the human, that was more than enough. In a swirl of skirts that naughtily revealed his bloomers, Liam spun around, and he promptly ran for his- Well, perhaps not for his life, but definitely for his supposed virtue.