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"…To Oppose Other Evils"

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This story is No. 2 in the series "It's All About the Blood...". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Some habits are contagious, regardless of how you might have first been exposed to them.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > DexterGreywizardFR1512,1823132,99115 Dec 1115 Dec 11Yes
Time frame: An AU Season Two following both my earlier story, 'Darkly Dreaming Xander,' (which can be found here: and the equivalent events to canon's S2 'Becoming.'

Character Bashing: None.

Feedback: Of course!

Archiving: Talk to me first, please.

Feedback: Of course!

Archiving: Talk to me first, please.

Author's Note 1: Many thanks to Bill Haden and Theo (Starway_Man) for beta-ing this story.

Author's Note 2: As usual, “word” indicates speech, :: word :: indicates mental communication and { word } indicates a character's thoughts.

Author's Note 3: Remember, the various character's thoughts and opinions do not necessarily reflect those of the author.

Author's Note 4: Fic #?? in my Christmas Challenge Fic-A-Thon.


Somewhere in Sunnydale, California
May, 1998

He blinked, trying to shake off the disorientation as he dazedly fought his way back to consciousness, trying to figure out what had happened to him and where he was.

A futile attempt to sit up made him realize that he was both naked and restrained by numerous lengths of chain crisscrossing his body to pin him onto some sort of stone slab.

It was an altar, he recognized after a brief instant of consideration of his surroundings, and he fought down a reflexive wave of fear as he also recognized that the chains holding him captive were far too strong for him to break. Not without some kind of leverage or, at the least, a tool to pry against one of the links.

"Oh, good. You finally woke up. I was beginning to think that you'd added sloth to your list of deadly sins," he heard someone say an instant later.

The voice originated from off to his left and a bit behind his head, and he awkwardly twisted his head around so that he could see, to discover a looming male figure dressed in a pair of the disposable white coveralls used by painters and other menial workers, and wearing a pair of safety goggles, evidently to protect their eyes.

"Harris!" he snarled, and his fury redoubled as his apparent captor dryly replied, "Your powers of observation are simply mind-boggling, Angelus."

"I'm gonna play jump rope with your entrails, boy, as soon as I get loose," the vampire no longer burdened with a soul promised, recognizing the dark-haired youth whom the soul had alternately loathed and ignored, fearing he might come between him and the airheaded blonde bint the Powers had Chosen as the current incarnation of the Vampire Slayer. Well, if you disregarded the new Chosen One named Kendra, anyway.

The bloodsucker's features shifted into his demon face and fury instantly replaced the fear Angelus had been feeling as the boy casually dismissed his threat with a bored, "Sure, you are, leech. Can't you see how I'm shaking in my shoes because of your threat?"

"Just you wait, you little punk! Because I'm gonna hunt down and torture to death every single one of those bitches you care about, Harris. Even that stuck-up brunette whore who started dating you, just to piss off her parents –" Angelus began, before being interrupted in mid-rant by a small ball-peen hammer smacking him in the mouth and smashing apart several of his teeth as it mashed part of his lips to a pulp.

"Ah, ah, ah," Xander admonished the soulless vampire as he screamed incomprehensible curses in a mixture of pain and rage from his now ruined mouth. "No badmouthing any of the ladies, Angelus. Not even my ex-girlfriend. Don't you know, that's a sign of a poor upbringing?"

The casual, almost indifferent tone of the boy's voice and the immediate, nonchalant violence with which he'd responded to his curtailed threat gave the vampire pause and Angelus took a moment to reevaluate the youth standing over him, the bloody hammer in his hand not the only jarring element of the image before him.

The blood demon had laughed himself hoarse -- well, he would have, if he'd been in control of his body -- when he'd first considered the joke those incompetent, arrogant assholes comprising the fabled Powers That Be had perpetrated against humanity by choosing that self-centered, continually whining, myopic little trollop (whom the soul, for some insane reason, had actually fallen for) as their primary weapon in the battle against the so-called forces of evil.

The little cow was so focused on lamenting how horrible her life had become after she'd been Called that it had been a constant source of humor – one which had at least partially relieved the constant, unrelenting discomfort that the presence of the soul had inflicted on the blood demon, as well as the pleasure from the soul's unending remorse and guilt over the actions *it* had taken while in possession of their body.

The Watcher had been another source of enjoyment as both the soul and the demon watched from the shadows while the Englishman had repeatedly, and with increasing frustration, attempted to mold the blonde into the unthinking and compliant robot which the Council had decided best suited them as regards what a proper Slayer should be – while remaining indifferent to the effects this might have on the life expectancy of the girl Chosen.

The fact that the stupid bimbo (as the blood demon contemptuously referred to the Slayer) had managed to surround herself with a support group, in spite of her Watcher's disapproval, had scored a few grudging points of respect from it, while at the same time, it enjoyed a sneering contempt for those selfsame support troops.

And while he had nothing but contempt for Harris and his obvious, if unreciprocated, romantic interest in the Slayer, Angelus grudgingly had to admit that the boy had an inner ruthlessness that would unnerve anyone that it was directed against, as proven by the way the kid had forced the soul's spineless personality to lead him down into the Master's lair, enabling him to resuscitate the Slayer after she'd drowned.

Angelus had also long admired the subtle and understated beauty of the perky redheaded hacker who'd volunteered her assistance to help the Slayer (no matter how futile that effort might prove to be), and the soulless demon had spent endless hours fantasizing about the myriad and admittedly deviant ways he'd sexually violate and torment the cute little Jewish girl before finally turning her, should the extremely unlikely opportunity that he'd be able to take control of their body ever present itself to him, something which had finally happened. She reminded him more than a little of Dru, what with that air of innocence she wore around her…

Unfortunately, however, Angelus was currently unable to take advantage of the good fortune Fate had provided him.

Somehow – through some means still not clear to him – he'd ended up chained to a stone altar, where this buffoon, Harris, had apparently found him and was taking full advantage of the chance offered to inflict some payback for all of the aggravation the soul had caused him over the course of the past year.

{ All right, enough wool-gathering. }

Angelus knew he had to come up with a way to trick this idiot boy into somehow loosening or releasing the chains, and then he'd show him exactly what pain and suffering really was.

Angelus was distracted from his thoughts when he heard the boy saying, "Oh, yeah, sure. Clearly, I was just lucky enough to simply stumble across a master vampire lying chained up here, in some abandoned building, as I was walking home after school or something, right?

"Merciful Zeus, to think that Giles' books actually said that you were considered the most cunning member of the Scourge of Europe," Harris went on contemptuously. "I gotta say, either Deadboy's soul killed off a lot of your undead brain cells, or else you must have paid for some of the best PR people available back then."

Before Angelus could say anything in response, the vampire's attention was caught by the flash of light glinting off the blade of the surgeon's scalpel held in Harris' right hand.

Noticing how the vampire's eyes were focused on the scalpel, Harris smiled and held it out towards the demon, who reflexively cringed away from the blade.

"Like it? It's a real beauty, isn't it?" the youth asked as he stepped closer. "Although from what I can recall reading in the various Watchers diaries, you never used anything quite as subtle as this, did you?

"You were always more of a carving knife or machete or fire axe kind of bloodsucking demon, right?" Harris grinned malevolently as he grabbed hold of the vampire's head and held it steady as he moved the blade towards the other's face.

"You're not gonna use that on me," Angelus mumbled, trying to sound more certain than he actually felt, despite his smashed mouth.

"None of you people have the guts to actually do anything like that," he went on more confidently, seeing how Harris had paused at his words.

"You're all far too 'good' to actually have the stones to carve someone like me up, no matter how evil I might be," the soulless demon sneered. "The Watcher might've been able to do it, if he was mad enough – but you don't have it in you to put the knife to someone who's completely helpless and at your mercy."

But then Angelus felt his stomach drop, metaphorically speaking, when Harris looked down at him and actually laughed aloud.

"Wrong again, leech," the youth said, as he meticulously traced a thin line approximately an inch long across his captive's right cheek, released Angelus' head and then, just as carefully, transferred a droplet of the vampire's blood onto a glass slide like the ones used to examine samples under a microscope, which he then secured in a small wooden box.

"Of course, Spike and Drusilla, thought and said pretty much the same thing when they were lying there, too," Harris said, turning back to face the vampire with that same lazy grin on his face that he seemed to usually wear. “Although in Dru's case, it was kinda hard to tell. You know, since she was actually talking to the moon most of the time, instead of me.

"What?" the boy asked as the grin grew into a genuine smile, seeing the shocked expression on his captive's face at his preceding comment. "You thought that both of your old compadres just up and took off a while back, without any sort of fond goodbye-age to their old buddy from back in the days of yore?"

"But, that's exactly the sort of thing Spike would do…" Angelus protested weakly, before he began reconsidering his words as he remembered that Drusilla had seemingly left her favorite doll, Miss Edith, behind when the pair had disappeared.

"Uh-uh," Angelus shook his head, trying as much to reassure himself with his words as to protest Harris' statement. "Nice try, Harris, but I'm not buying it. You don't have the balls to try to kill someone like that. None of you people do.

"Not even your precious Princess Buffy would do something like that," the vampire sneered.

"And that's her job!" he added mockingly.

"Ehhhnnn. And you're wrong yet again, Overbite," Harris smirked down at the vampire.

"Now, pay attention – I'm going to let you in on a little secret, dipstick," he said, leaning in a little closer towards his prisoner. "Seeing as how you're not going to be in the position of ever telling anyone else about it.

"Remember how, back on Halloween night last year, a lot of people apparently got possessed by their costumes?" Harris jogged the vampire's memories.

"Well, I dressed up as a crime scene technician," he informed his captive, "and funnily enough, as it turns out, the guy I turned into was a bloodstain pattern analyst for the Miami Metro Police Department. Oh, and his hobby was moonlighting as a vigilante who hunted down and disposed of serial killers who, for whatever reason, had managed to avoid justice for their crimes.

"So what?” Angelus asked brazenly, even if he was starting to develop a bad feeling about this.

"Well, it also turns out, that after the spell responsible for all the possessions was over and Dexter disappeared, all of his knowledge and skills, and a *lot* of his motivations somehow stayed behind," Harris announced with a wide smile.

"And Sunny-Hell has a per capita murder and disappearance rates that exceeds New York, Chicago and Washington, D.C. *combined*, I figured I could follow in my predecessor's footsteps. Not let his legacy go to waste, so to speak…"

"Now then, considering how you used to do this sort of thing professionally – back when you and the rest of the Scourge of Europe were running all around the countryside during the course of the nineteenth century," Harris said as he picked up a battery-powered sabre-saw from a table off to the side of the room, "do you mind if I ask you to give me a professional opinion regarding my work? Spike just broke too fast, and Dru thought it was foreplay, 'cause she dusted in mid-orgasm."

The low-pitched buzz whine of the saw was soon drowned out by Angelus' screams that seemed to go on for, depending upon the listener's perspective, either far too long or not nearly long enough before ashes floated gently down onto both the blood-splattered stone altar and the floor.


The End

You have reached the end of ""…To Oppose Other Evils"". This story is complete.

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