title:  Plan B
	author:  Kate Bolin
	email:  dymphna@dymphna.net
	site:  http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/
	summary:  So what do you do when that whole 
	Slayer thing doesn't work out anyway?
	media:  Buffy the Vampire Slayer
	pairing:  Angel/Oz
	rating:  PG-13
	archive:  List sites, my site, standing orders
	feedback:  Privately
	disclaimer:  Whedon & co own.  I do not.
	author's note: Written for the Angel/Oz Ficathon 
	for Doyle, who wanted Wishverse sans "Puppy".  So 
	I played around.  And she forgave me for being bad
	at it.

*

For a law firm that prided itself on its lack 
of morality, Wolfram & Hart was occasionally 
fond of performing acts of greater good.

In this case, for reasons left only to 
themselves and the Senior Partners, they 
decided to put an end to the Master's vampiric 
industrial revolution.  Perhaps they wanted to 
eliminate competition from their own secret 
projects in pre-packaging.  Perhaps they wanted 
to make sure he didn't take control of all of 
Los Angeles.  Perhaps he just stuck his lawyer 
in the damned machine.  They didn't bother to 
explain themselves - they just went ahead and 
initiated a plan.

And it was obviously a *plan*, carefully laid 
out, with pie charts and statistics and even 
possibly roman numerals to match the outline.



I. Acquire a knowledge base.

There were approximately two people in all of 
Sunnydale who knew what was going on.  There 
had been more, and, according to the local 
sources, there had even been a *Slayer* for a 
short period of time, but that was at the 
beginning of the Master's plan, and, well, she 
just hadn't lasted long.

So when Lilah Morgan pulled up to the semi-
ruined buildings that used to be the high 
school, she made certain that she brought along 
a considerable amount of firepower.  Not just 
for the inevitable vampire attack, but in case 
these two had become entirely entrenched in 
battle, unable to think of leaving.

Her right-hand man, a tall drink of cool 
Midwestern well water, made the all-clear 
gesture, and they walked right into the 
library, her bodyguards following Lilah as she 
strode towards the two men.  The men tensed, 
drawing stakes, looking at her with barely 
repressed panic, wondering what new horrors 
would come from this.

She smiled, not too large, not too sharp, just 
the right amount of affection mixed with 
respect.  "Mr. Osbourne, Mr. Giles," she said.  
"I have a deal to make with you.  I suggest you 
accept it."



II. Acquire a weapon

There was one scroll that detailed the ritual, 
and there were only a few people who could read 
it.  Luckily, Mr. Giles translated it 
perfectly, right down to the last endnote.  
And, luckily, he was willing to perform the 
ritual.  And, luckily, Mr. Osbourne, a pale 
wisp of a boy that the typing pool of Wolfram & 
Hart was abuzz about, sighing over his eyes, 
his hands, his soft smiles as he held open 
elevators even for them, was more than willing 
to assist, roaming through the streets at night 
with Mr. Finn, Lilah's bodyguard, hunting and 
trapping four vampires.

They read.  They prepared.  They chanted and 
moved and watched as the cyclone of vampire 
dust spun and coalesced and slowly formed 
something in the box.

A groan.  A breath.  And Lilah smiled.  "Hello, 
Angel," she crooned to the box.  "We need your 
help."



III. Induction

"I...I died."

"Yeah."

"And...now..."

"They brought you back."

"Why?"

Osbourne gestured at the map on the wall of his 
apartment - the only decoration in a rather 
Spartan setting.  "Because of him."

Angel looked at the map, his face settling into 
resolve.  "They hurt me," he said, his voice 
low and dirty.

"They hurt a lot of people."

"No, they..."  He paused, frowning.  "There 
were two of them - a black-haired boy and a 
redheaded girl.  He liked them, and he..."  
Angel paused again.  "Darla didn't want me.  
She said my soul disgusted her.  So he gave me 
to them."  He traced his fingers over the map 
of Sunnydale, right over the warehouse 
district, right where the Master's factory sat, 
belching out ash and smoke and blood.

"They're dust," Osbourne replied, watching him.

Angel turned towards him.  "Are they?"

He nodded.  "The redhead definitely is.  I'm 
guessing the other one is too, since he didn't 
take his revenge on me killing his girl."

Angel raised his eyebrows.  "Oh."

Osbourne raised his eyebrows too.  "Just 'Oh'?"

Angel shrugged.  "I had kinda hoped to do it 
myself."

The tension drained from the room, and Osbourne 
smiled.  He held out his hand.  "I'm Oz," he 
said.

"I'm Angel."

"And yet I knew that already."



IV. Research

"I haven't been human in..."

"Three hundred and forty-seven years," Oz 
answered.

Angel looked at him.  "How'd you know that?"

Oz shrugged.  "I read your file."

"Oh."  Angel paused.  "Wait, they have a file 
on me?"

"They have a file on *everyone*.  This 
dimension, alternate dimensions, everything you 
could want to know about someone."

"They have a file on you?"

Oz nodded.  "Of course."

"Can I read it?"

"Only if you want to be bored."

Angel leaned in closer to Oz.  "I don't think 
that could happen," he said, his voice low.

Oz raised a single eyebrow and smiled.  "Oh?"



V. Training

Angel's tattoo is cool against Oz's heated 
tongue, a faint tracery of ink and scar against 
smooth skin as he licks and sucks and feels all 
of Angel against him.  The line of his back.  
The curve of his shoulder.  The nape of his 
neck and the soft moans he gets as he kisses 
it.

Oz is lying on top of Angel, and Angel presses 
back against his body, chest to back, hips to 
hips, legs spreading and allowing Oz to slip 
into him carefully, painlessly, wonderfully.

They push, they pull, they strive forwards and 
backwards and ever ever closer to that point, 
that singular point, with both of them softly 
chanting each other's name, with both of them 
superheated and raw, with both of them gasping, 
shouting, laughing, and falling back onto the 
bed with soft kisses.



VI. Preparation

"I don't want to do this," Angel muttered 
sullenly, staring at the other vampire from 
underneath his brow.

Oz nodded.  "I don't want you to do this 
either," he said, placidly, calmly, as if 
talking to a two-year-old.  "But Lilah's right.  
None of us are strong enough to take him on - 
we need someone who is."

"So why don't you just ensoul him!" he shouted, 
waving his hand at the vampire who tilted his 
head slightly and smiled.

Oz shook his head.  "It doesn't work like that 
- we need *you*.  You're the only one who's 
ever been ensouled, you're the only one who is 
strong enough, and you're the only one who 
could do this."  He looked down.  "I know..."

"No, you don't," Angel snapped.  "You've never 
been vamped.  You've never had a *demon* inside 
of you struggling to get out, to maim, to kill, 
to destroy *everything* that you love, and 
*like* it."

Oz looked up at him, his eyes slightly 
narrowed.  "You're right, I haven't done all 
that.  But I know what needs to be done, and 
I'm willing to do whatever it takes."  He 
paused, looking away.  "Are you?"

Angel sighed, looking at Oz.  "Are you..." He 
paused.  "Are you sure she can..."

"The gypsy we found?  Yeah.  Her family's kept 
this whole ritual secret for a century now..."  
Oz smiled slightly.  "And all this time, she 
was hiding in our own IT department..."

Angel smiled, then grew serious when he turned 
to Oz.  "Oz...you know that...when...I..."  He 
struggled to find words.

Oz nodded, biting his lower lip.  "I know.  The 
catch."  At Angel's questioning glance, he 
shrugged.  "Janna explained it to me."

"Oz, I don't think I can..."

"Then don't think," Oz said abruptly.  "Don't 
think, just *do* it."  He reached over and 
grasped Angel's hand.  "We'll deal with all 
that later."

Angel leaned over and kissed him, reveling in 
the taste and texture of Oz's mouth as Oz 
reveled in the pulse that slipped through 
Angel's skin, then, slowly, sadly, walked over 
to the vampire.



VII. Battle

The entire fight took less than an hour.  Finn, 
Osbourne, and Lockley and Gunn from the LAPD 
Vampire Task Force lead their teams into the 
building, quickly and efficiently dispatching 
vampires in a precise methodical fashion.  
Giles lead the hostage release team, and Morgan 
supervised from the base camp a block away, her 
techies buried neck deep in telemetry.

As they cut a swathe through dust and decay, a 
single figure stood tall, a single stake in his 
hand as he faced the Master.

The Master tilted his head slightly.  
"Angelus?" he asked.

"Angel," the man replied, just as he attacked.



VIII. Clean-up

When the Master was dust and the factory shut 
down, it was general consensus that the only 
way to make sure that it was *over* would be to 
destroy the factory from the ground up.

Finn got a man to lay the explosives, and, from 
a few miles away, the limping survivors watched 
as the place that would have been their death 
toppled, smokestacks collapsing into themselves 
as dust filled the air.

Some applauded.  Some wept.  And the scattered 
bunch of soldiers, all bearing wounds - both 
mental and physical - watched silently.

Oz limped over to Angel, who kept his eyes on 
the spot where the factory once was.  "So 
that's it," he said, his voice soft.

Angel didn't look away.  "That's it."