The Mighty Belthazor

Bel had kiiiiinda forgotten about class on Monday. He blamed Phoebe distracting him Sunday night, and come to think of it, she'd probably done it on purpose because she really didn't approve of him antagonizing Anakin with his class. And to tell the truth, there was nothing he could come up with that would top Jamie's puppet show or getting Anakin gremlin-bit.

At any rate, he figured he ought to at least show up for the last week of classes. He hadn't really established any office hours at the start of the summer session, so he just wandered around until he found an empty office and parked himself inside, feet up on the desk as he fiddled with his phone. Maybe he'd order a few dozen pizzas and have them sent to Anakin's office. Because he was 12.

A quiet Sunday night had been rudely interrupted when Phoebe had gotten a premonition of a demon attacking someone, so Bel had shimmered her to the location in her vision so they could stop it from happening.

"You sure this is the place?" he said, looking around the alley. He didn't see anything, but he did get the feeling they were being watched.

Bel had gone out seeking a food truck to score some dinner. He was on his way back to the hotel (even nice enough to bring back food for Phoebe and Anders) when he had the feeling he was being watched. He couldn't spot anyone nearby, and demon activity had been relatively low lately, but all the same, he stopped and called out, "All right, quit following around. Show yourself."

Two men appeared in front of him, one older with a short grey beard, and the other reminded him of the guy in Candyman for some reason. Both were dressed entirely in black. "We've been waiting for this moment, Cole," the first said.

"Yes, welcome," not-Candyman added in a gravelly voice.

Bel tensed, ready to summon up a fireball if he needed to. "Only Phoebe gets to call me Cole," he said. "Who they hell are you?"

"We are the Avatars," the first man said.

"Avatars of what?" Bel said. "If it isn't bacon, I'm not interested."

"Force and power," not-Candyman said. "And we don't have to limit ourselves to choosing between good and evil, we can drive them both."

"What's that got to do with me?" Bel demanded. "I gave up evil. If you're looking for recruits, I'm not interested."

Not-Candyman took a step closer. "There are only a few of us now," he said, "but we are preparing to wield the power the likes of which this world has never seen."

"And we want you to be apart of it," the grey-bearded Avatar said.

"Good and evil are such useless categories," not-Candyman said. "Endlessly in battle, neither side ever winning. Gets rather boring don't you think?"

Bel summoned up a fireball (in the hand not holding dinner). He didn't like the sound of this at all. "Let me make myself clear," he said evenly. "I want nothing to do with you."

"The power inside you has grown," the first Avatar said. "Soon you will have nowhere else to turn except to us."

"Yeah, turn this," Bel said, throwing the fireball. To his surprise, it vanished as it struck them, and they remained unharmed.

"You can't fight us, Cole," the grey-bearded Avatar said. "It is futile to try. Sooner or later you will join us. It is inevitable."

Both men vanished, leaving Bel alone on the street with just his bag of food and a really bad feeling about this.

[ooc: Dialogue swiped from the episode "Sam I Am" (yes, really), but modified because Bel isn't, you know, completely crazy.]
 

Bel still hadn't really talked to Anders since the whole turning into his alternate universe self. How they managed to not see each other while living in the same room and even sharing a bed was anybody's guess. But Bel was tired of the silence between them, so now he was laying in wait to corner Anders so they could finally talk.


[For the robot.]

As Bel began to wake up, he realized he was warm. Well, as a demon he was always warm, but when it was a vampire who was in your bed, they tended to leech the heat away. Not only was he warm, but there was more than one body in the bed with him. His memory was foggy enough that he couldn't remember exactly whom he'd slept with last night. Veronica? Lindsey? Tyler? All three? Not that he discriminated much about sharing his bed. Whoever it was, they must've left to feed and returned. Hence the warmth.

He opened his eyes, but it didn't register right away that there was a window in the room, and sunlight was streaming through the curtains. Instead he was staring at the woman curled against him. The other occupant of the bed was forgotten in his shock. It wasn't possible.

"Phoebe!" he said, pulling her into his arms as she made a sleepy noise of protest. She was alive. He didn't understand or care how, but she was alive.


[For the other occupants of the bed. Up early in case I sleep late. In case?]

Bel had a nice big bed in the suite he shared with Phoebe and Anders in the Hyperion, but it probably wasn't big enough to stop him from disturbing the other two with his tossing and turning throughout the night. His skin was itchy for some reason, and why the hell did it smell like chocolate in here?

He was really going to hate Anakin if he ever found out the cause of this.


[For the two whose sleep he's disturbing.]

Email box for belthazor@fandomhigh.net

OOC: this is not a real, valid email address

Bel had asked Piper to make him a cake for Phoebe's birthday. However, he insisted on frosting it himself. He was rather proud of the job he did on it, though it was anything but smooth and he'd almost gotten more frosting on himself and the table than on the cake, and the "Happy birthday, Phoebe" would probably make a professional cake decorator fall to their knees, throw their hands in the air, and scream "WHY?"

He lit the 20 candles (with matches, not a fireball, because he had enough sense to know that wouldn't end well), then called out to the next room, where Phoebe was relaxing and reading. "Sweetheart, can you come here and help me with something?"



[For the birthday girl, but other Hyperion residents are welcome to wander by. Up early for birthday justice, but SP is the name of the game because I was an impossible case, no one ever could reach me, but I think I can see in your face there's a lot you can teach me.]

Bel was flopped on the bed, thanking whatever powers that were for demonic stamina. For whatever reason, these past few days he'd felt absolutely insatiable. Fortunately, Phoebe and Anders apparently felt the same.

"We should probably eat at some point," he said. After a pause, he clarified. "Food."

Bel didn't get sick often, especially since he picked up the nifty insta-healing powers in the Wastelands. But there were a few things that could still knock him off his feet, such as, unfortunately, the common cold. And said cold turned Bel into a whiny, cranky, miserable patient indeed.

Phoebe had gone to the store to buy a bottle of medicine for him. It was the most vile thing he had ever tasted, and living in the Underworld, he had tasted a lot of vile things. But he began to feel a little better, so he figured that more of a good thing was a better thing and chugged the whole bottle.

This could prove to be a biiiiig mistake.

Especially because his cell phone was in easy reach.


[For returned phone calls (hee) and Hyperion inhabitants, and brought to you by the fact that I am sick as a dog and high on NyQuil. NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you, you giant frakking Q!]