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195 - What makes someone a hero? What makes someone a villain?
"We all want something, Wes. It's the way of the world. Everybody's got an agenda."
"And you want to tell me mine."
"You want to come down here, get your vital stats on lava boy, play the big hero--"
"I want to know how to kill the Beast. It has nothing to do with being a hero."
I live in Los Angeles. I encounter more smug self-satisfaction walking from my car to my apartment every day than most people deal with in a year. But I had never, never come across the unadulterated arrogance that emanated from the very presence of Angelus. One would have thought to look at his infinitely casual stance leaning against the brick wall or lightly holding onto the iron bars, and to listen to the cool, supremely confident tones of his voice that it were not he imprisoned within the cage, but me, his interrogator.
What I told Angelus wasn't a lie. I had done an extensive amount of research into his history and methodology, spent hours in the Watchers Council archives, trying to separate legend and myth from fact. Every recorded murder, every kidnapping and torture, every battle of the monster Angelus' career I noted and cross-referenced long before taking my post in Sunnydale. I was something of an expert on the subject, and felt myself more than capable of questioning him.
I'm still not entirely sure whether I was right or wrong, considering how short the interrogation would become.
Watching the vampire, there was a few lines of Shakespeare that would not leave the back of my mind.
There was no fear at all in Angelus' eyes, no hesitation or tension in his carriage. No end at all for the confidence he had in his own abilities to reach out of that cage with words and wrap his insidious ideas around our hearts and minds. I knew, and was prepared already, for the utter absence of remorse for anything, any sin he had ever committed. I knew that Angelus would not waste time dancing around a subject, nor would he feint or jab. No, I sat down waiting for his opening gambit, sure to be as bold as the vampire himself. I was not let down by it.
He went after my attraction to Fred and to my own questionable self-confidence. I had become a far stronger man than likely Angelus or even Angel realised. But with Angel's knowledge to arm him, Angelus went straight for the chinks in my armour and struck them, unerringly. It hadn't been enough to fell me, not then, but more than enough to set me on edge.
My temper rose, and my patience began to grow short. I rose from my seat and began pacing, my questions were more strident and I was no longer interested in extracting information, only in parrying Angelus' taunts, like an angry schoolboy engaging a bully. An observer in a generous mood might opine that even against a master like Angelus, I held my own.
They would be wrong. In allowing myself to be drawn into the exchange, I lost sight of my intentions, and failed at achieving the goal. Oh yes, we eventually did learn what Angelus knew about the Beast, but not until Cordelia-- the possessed Cordelia, mind you-- struck her own devil's bargain with him.
Send legions of vampires against me, or demons or zombies or spirits or what have you. Against them I can hold a stake, swing a sword, pull a trigger. Against a true villain, a true evil, like Angelus... very few could even stand, let alone triumph. His is the villainy I truly fear, as we all should.
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain.
(556, not including direct quotes: episode and Hamlet, I.v.)
"We all want something, Wes. It's the way of the world. Everybody's got an agenda."
"And you want to tell me mine."
"You want to come down here, get your vital stats on lava boy, play the big hero--"
"I want to know how to kill the Beast. It has nothing to do with being a hero."
I live in Los Angeles. I encounter more smug self-satisfaction walking from my car to my apartment every day than most people deal with in a year. But I had never, never come across the unadulterated arrogance that emanated from the very presence of Angelus. One would have thought to look at his infinitely casual stance leaning against the brick wall or lightly holding onto the iron bars, and to listen to the cool, supremely confident tones of his voice that it were not he imprisoned within the cage, but me, his interrogator.
What I told Angelus wasn't a lie. I had done an extensive amount of research into his history and methodology, spent hours in the Watchers Council archives, trying to separate legend and myth from fact. Every recorded murder, every kidnapping and torture, every battle of the monster Angelus' career I noted and cross-referenced long before taking my post in Sunnydale. I was something of an expert on the subject, and felt myself more than capable of questioning him.
I'm still not entirely sure whether I was right or wrong, considering how short the interrogation would become.
Watching the vampire, there was a few lines of Shakespeare that would not leave the back of my mind.
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables, --meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
There was no fear at all in Angelus' eyes, no hesitation or tension in his carriage. No end at all for the confidence he had in his own abilities to reach out of that cage with words and wrap his insidious ideas around our hearts and minds. I knew, and was prepared already, for the utter absence of remorse for anything, any sin he had ever committed. I knew that Angelus would not waste time dancing around a subject, nor would he feint or jab. No, I sat down waiting for his opening gambit, sure to be as bold as the vampire himself. I was not let down by it.
He went after my attraction to Fred and to my own questionable self-confidence. I had become a far stronger man than likely Angelus or even Angel realised. But with Angel's knowledge to arm him, Angelus went straight for the chinks in my armour and struck them, unerringly. It hadn't been enough to fell me, not then, but more than enough to set me on edge.
My temper rose, and my patience began to grow short. I rose from my seat and began pacing, my questions were more strident and I was no longer interested in extracting information, only in parrying Angelus' taunts, like an angry schoolboy engaging a bully. An observer in a generous mood might opine that even against a master like Angelus, I held my own.
They would be wrong. In allowing myself to be drawn into the exchange, I lost sight of my intentions, and failed at achieving the goal. Oh yes, we eventually did learn what Angelus knew about the Beast, but not until Cordelia-- the possessed Cordelia, mind you-- struck her own devil's bargain with him.
Send legions of vampires against me, or demons or zombies or spirits or what have you. Against them I can hold a stake, swing a sword, pull a trigger. Against a true villain, a true evil, like Angelus... very few could even stand, let alone triumph. His is the villainy I truly fear, as we all should.
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain.
(556, not including direct quotes: episode and Hamlet, I.v.)
OOC
Date: 2007-09-11 01:19 am (UTC)Re: OOC
Date: 2007-09-11 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 01:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 06:24 pm (UTC)But he was wrong about my not being willing to kill him, though.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-12 04:06 pm (UTC)