Title: Our Hero and The Creature
Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>
Summary: A bored office worker's revised version of "Beauty and the Beast" (the fairy tale), pureed and sauteed with assorted other bits'n'pieces of other fairy tales.
Distribution: Please ask.
Spoiler: Um, not really. A little bit of "Surprise/Innocence" and "Becoming," but I've twisted things to suit my purposes.
Rating: G, I think.
Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. If they were mine, things would be different. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB, and anyone else I forgot. But as much as they may *want* to own "B&tB," it is *not* owned by Disney. They might own a couple of the characters, but the actual story is not theirs.
Notes: Playing fast and loose with fairy tales here. "B&tB" is the main one, but I've tossed in elements from several others. If someone feels brave enough to try to make a list, go for it, but I'm feeling lazy. I've also done something to the curse to make it fit this story because, well, I felt like it, and it worked for the story. Side note: When I was in college, I took a Comparative Literature (trivia: "Comparative Literature" was abbreviated in the course catalog as "C LIT") class that was exclusively about fairy and folk tales. I watched _B&tB_ (Disney version) a little over three and a half times in order to write a paper comparing it to the original story. I got a 3.6 -- one grade point for each time I watched it. Ever since, I've wondered what would have happened if I had managed to finish that final viewing.
Random dedication: To that guy in that class who had the incredibly cool skin art. I spent *hours* staring at his sun tattoo. But I never did manage to get around to finding out where he had it done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long, long, ago, in a land far, far away...

Okay, so maybe it wasn't *that* long ago. Let's say, oh, a hundred years ago. 'Cause that's a nice, round number, and The Narrator is too lazy to go look up the real date. And not *that* far away. Europe-ish. Again, still lazy.

Anyway, as The Narrator was saying, at that point in time in that particular location, there was an evil vampire. As evil vampires tend to do, he killed many people and tortured many more. Just because he could. And because he found it entertaining. But he made the fateful mistake one day to target the beloved daughter of a family that -- surprise, surprise -- just happened to be able to curse evil vampires with unwanted and guilt-ridden souls.

But unbeknownst to them all, the evil vampire had a... fairy godfather. Or something. No one was quite sure what to call him. Anyway (didn't The Narrator say that already? Oh, well), this "godfather" (or whatever you want to call him. Last anyone heard, he was using the name Whistler) decided to alter the curse a bit because he had just enough power to do that (but not much more). For nearly a hundred years (bringing us to the present day for the purposes of this story), though, the now-formerly-evil vampire wandered before finally settling in an abandoned mansion, attempting to shut himself off from all humanity (but he somehow still managed to make a few friends along the way. More on them later), unaware that his fate was not quite what he had been told.

You're probably wondering what exactly the curse was -- and how it was altered. Short version: For the rest of his existence, he would have the appearance of his vampiric self when on his most horrific rampage. As for the alteration, well, that seemed hopeless. If the vampire could find true love -- someone who accepted him without question despite his appearance -- then his human face would return and his soul would be permanently anchored to his body. But if he just *thought* it was true love, his soul would be gone for good. It had actually happened once before (he didn't *know* that there was a catch in the curse at the time), but one of the people he had befriended in his souled state happened to be an aspiring witch who considered the resouling of the vampire to be a challenge for her. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite as skilled as she had hoped and managed to turn the vampire's four remaining friends into animated inanimate objects (if you can follow that so-called logic). But despite her lack of experience, she did keep the curse (as altered by Whistler, who told her about the alteration shortly after the vampire lost his curse-provided soul) otherwise intact. More or less. And so, since resouled vampires tend to be terrified of losing their souls and becoming evil yet again, he shut himself off from the rest of the world since he was afraid that he would once more mistake not-true love for the real thing. Again.

~~~

So now that background is out of the way, we can move on to more angsty things.

Like the hero of our tale.

His whole life had been spent in a small village, never quite belonging anywhere. Not even in his own family.

One day, word was sent to his house that his father had been taken hostage by The Fierce Evil Creature rumored to live in the great mansion outside the village. But The Creature offered the man a choice. He could remain at the mansion or send for his firstborn son to take his place. It was really a test. After all, Our Hero was only eighteen years old. Sure, over the age of consent, but still not quite old enough to be truly considered an adult. The Creature (the resouled vampire, in case you hadn't jumped to that conclusion already) had expected the man to willingly remain at the mansion in order to protect his son, but the man wouldn't have actually been held at the mansion if he had chosen this option. In fact, he would have been returned to his family with great wealth and never have to worry about money ever again. But because Our Hero's family sucks, the man chose the second option. At this point, The Creature realized that perhaps Our Hero was actually better off living as a captive in the mansion than he was living with his family.

And so Our Hero found himself dumped on the doorstep of a dark, looming, forbidding structure. Slowly and noisily (as they tend to do in this type of story), the door opened. Although he could *hear* a whispered discussion nearby, he couldn't *see* anyone. The discussion went something like this:

"Hey, he's here!" A male voice.

"And he's cute." A female voice.

"Hey, you haven't told me that *I'm* cute. At least not lately."

"That's because you're a *candle*."

"Oh, come on, baby, light my fire."

"Oh, would you two just get a room?" A different female voice.

"Sorry." The first female voice again. Now he heard a slight rustling noise. "Hey, you got wax on my --"

"I *so* don't want to hear this."

"Would you three *stop* it?" An older male voice. With a British accent. "You're going to scare him, and we haven't had anyone new to talk to in far too long."

"Sorry." A trio of chagrined voices.

Finally, Our Hero stepped into the foyer, attempting to find the sources of the voices. "Hello? Who's there?"

"Uh -- Just follow the light." The younger male voice. And as Our Hero watched, a light appeared. As he followed the light, he realized that he was being led up stairs, down halls, and into a secluded wing. The light just kept moving forward, leaving the path behind him dark. Neat lighting effect. A door opened, and he found himself in his dream room. Stereo system, bookcase filled with books of various subjects, widescreen tv, jacuzzi tub...

Now a fifth -- and third male -- voice spoke from the shadows. "If you need anything else, just ask."

Our Hero whirled around. "Who *are* you, anyway?" Silence. "Okay, I'll just call you Batman, okay?" More silence. "Uh, that was a joke."

A heavy sigh. "Just ask if you need anything. But don't go into the west wing. That's... under construction. I don't want you to get hurt."

He heard footsteps moving away from his room. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he still had yet to actually *see* another human being in the mansion despite hearing five different voices. But then just as suddenly, he realized he was very, very sleepy (his icky father had yanked him out of bed in the middle of the night for delivery to the mansion), so he just crawled into bed (very warm and snuggly, he noted, with nice, soft sheets and a really fluffy comforter) and conked out.

~~~

Some time later, he woke up. Hungry, naturally, since guys Our Hero's age tend to be hungry when they wake up. Or any other time. So he made his way downstairs, wandering until he found the kitchen.

To his utter astonishment, he found the sources of the voices he had heard earlier. A candelabra was the younger male voice, a feather duster was the female voice with the wax issue, a mirror was the female voice that wanted the first two to keep their issues to themselves, and a teapot was the older British male voice.

"Oh! You're awake!" The feather duster carefully worked her way out of the candelabra's arms. "Want some tea? Giles can make some."

Our Hero stared. "Uh, you're a --"

"Yeah, I know." She was clearly embarrassed. "It's my fault. But we can talk about that some other time, okay? After all, you're going to be here for a long time, right?"

"Right." He turned his gaze to the rest of the kitchen. "So what's the deal here? What am I responsible for? I mean, what's my job here? Am I the newest galley slave?"

"Uh, no." Now the candelabra moved forward. Our Hero was a bit surprised to realize that, after scant minutes, animated inanimate objects were no longer even a bit odd. He was slightly surprised to see the candle's flames change color every few seconds, but it somehow seemed *right*. "You're just here. You're... our guest, I guess. So now it's up to us to find you some food. Oh, and I'm Oz. This," he carefully wrapped one "arm" around the feather duster, making sure the flame from his "hand" didn't light her feathers on fire, "is Willow. And she already mentioned Giles over there." The teapot clunked its -- *his* -- lid. "And, of course, that's Cordelia." He gestured to the mirror.

"Of course." Our Hero wasn't quite sure what to make of this turn of events, but, hey, that bed was really, really nice. And he was anxious to try out the jacuzzi. To top it all off, everyone -- or every*thing*; he wasn't quite sure which -- he had met so far seemed really, really nice, so he decided he might as well go with the flow. "So, what do you guys do for fun around here?"

~~~

Hours later, after he had decided that he really liked his new friends, he finally returned to his room -- or at least what he *thought* was his room. Because the mansion was immense and all of the hallways looked alike, he found himself in an area that, upon closer examination, was most assuredly not the wing with his room. It was dark, dusty, and in disrepair. "Hello? Anyone home?"

"Go away."

That voice. He recognized that voice. It was the third male voice. "I'm lost. This place is *huge*." He took another step into the wing.

"I *said* --"

"Look. You're not that scary. You had my dad here for a few days. I *lived* with him for eighteen years."

"True. What kind of father is he, anyway? Turning his child over to A Creature like me?"

"Not a good father. But I don't want to talk about him." A few more steps forward, frowning at the sound coming from the shadows. "You think that growling at me is going to make me run away? Forget it." A few more steps forward. "Besides, there's no way anyone bad would *ever* have the kind of bed you have in that room I'm in."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that."

Now Our Hero smiled. The voice was just to his right, tucked in the shadows, but still close enough to touch the body attached to the voice. He carefully reached out one hand, moving his fingers in what he hoped to be gentle caressing motions. Finally, his fingers came in contact with velvet stretched across an obviously muscular chest.

And then the chest jerked abruptly away. "Don't do that." To Our Hero's disappointment, he heard footsteps moving away from him.

"Come on. Time to get you back to your wing." The candelabra -- Oz, Our Hero reminded himself -- stood in the doorway behind him, gesturing toward the hall. "He gets in these brooding moods, and no one can talk to him."

"How long do they last?"

Oz shrugged as best he could considering he had *candles* for *hands*. "I think this whole place will burst into spontaneous celebration -- like in a musical or something -- if it ever happens."

~~~

And so Our Hero decided that it was his personal goal to befriend The Creature. It took a lot of work, but, finally, one evening, The Creature allowed himself to pulled into a brightly-lit area.

Years before, when he had decided to lock himself away from the rest of the world, it was partially because of the guilt he felt for his actions while soulless but also partially because of his appearance. Fangs distended, forehead distorted with ridges, he scared everyone wherever he went. And so he expected Our Hero to react in a similar fashion.

But to his surprise, Our Hero simply ran his fingers over The Creature's ridged brow, shrugged, and commented, "Hey, personality goes a long way."

And Our Hero never mentioned The Creature's physical appearance again.

~~~

And so they lived happily together, as friendly housemates, for quite some time. Then rumors began in the village. Well, really, Our Hero's father drank too much from time to time, and he began blabbing about his experience at the mansion in various pubs while, ahem, tipsy.

Word of his time at the mansion got around to a certain young blonde woman whose sworn sacred duty was to kill all vampires. The fact that The Creature had his soul was not a deterrant. So she packed up her trusty bag of assorted vampire-hunting accessories, and she was on her way.

The ensuing battle was brief but fierce. It ended when the certain young blonde woman inadvertantly struck Our Hero, sending him into the sort of mystical coma that exists only in fairy tales. She left the area, never to return again. Whistler informed The Creature that it was because she had harmed a human, one of the biggest prohibitions in her line of work. The Creature believed she was aware that, despite his soul, he would have to kill her for harming Our Hero -- the only person who did not protest that he would love The Creature despite his appearance. As he thought about it, The Creature realized that Our Hero simply did not notice the fangs and ridges any more.

And that just made him more upset that he had been unable to protect Our Hero. Because, if given the choice, The Creature would have gladly given up his own existence to save Our Hero.

~~~

"Only a kiss from his one true love will awaken him."

The Creature gazed longingly at Our Hero's still form, laid out in what used to be a study but was now just another one of The Creature's dark, depressing rooms deemed off-limits -- to everyone but Our Hero. "But what about the curse? If it's not real --"

Whistler sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's just a kiss. You can even keep your lips shut. It's not like you're exchanging bodily fluids, and that was the problem last time." Of course, he was lying. If it wasn't True Love, then The Creature's soul would once again be ripped away, and

his friends would be stuck in the form of animated inanimate objects until they disintegrated. But Whistler had it on good authority that this was True Love. In fact, he had been sent to make sure that these two got together this time around.

Wistfully, The Creature traced the lines of Our Hero's face. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" Finally, he pulled his hand away, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and leaned down to touch his lips to Our Hero's.

His eyes snapped open when a strong arm reached under his arm and around his torso, pulling him snug against Our Hero's body. To his utter astonishment, the formerly-still lips parted.

Suddenly, The Creature pulled away. He felt warmth on his back. The roof had fallen down around them, revealing nothing but golden sun. But to his shock, he did not burst into flames.

Because Whistler had neglected to inform The Creature about one last alteration. Really, *Whistler* hadn't done the alteration. The witch had done it when she recursed The Creature. But Whistler was the only one who knew about it. He just never quite got around to telling The Creature because, well, he just had a feeling that the words would fall on deaf ears. After all, The Creature was happy wallowing in angst.

But when The Creature found True Love, a few things happened. He gained a permanent soul, of course. But he also gained immortality. A different immortality than before. This time around, nothing -- not sunlight, not stakes, not holy water -- could harm him. So he would live for eternity with no fear of becoming a horrific demon ever again. And the same thing happened to his True Love and the residents of the mansion that had been inadvertently affected by the witch's recurse. Well, they gained immortality after they were returned to their normal human states, and Whistler informed them that, should they, too, find their One True Love, that person would be granted the same lifetime.

Then The Creature turned to gaze at Our Hero and saw pure shock. "I'm sorry. I know you said that you could accept my appearance, but I'll understand if you change your mind."

Wordlessly, Our Hero shook his head. And pulled a mirror (conveniently located on a nearby table), holding it so The Creature could see his reflection.

For a long moment, The Creature stared. Surely that was a *picture*. It *couldn't* be his reflection. Then he lifted a hand to his face -- and the hand he was looking at lifted. The hand in the mirror pushed at skin at the same time he moved his hand to push at his own skin. He tugged his hair up into gentle spikes -- and the hair he was looking at was spiked as well. Finally, he smiled -- and watched as the face he was gazing at beamed.

The mirror was pulled away. And Our Hero took its place. "Okay? *Now* do you see what I've been seeing?" When The Creature (now a drop-dead gorgeous man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a muscular build that would stop traffic if given half a chance) made no response, Our Hero placed on hand on The Creature's cheek, threaded the fingers of his other hand through The Creature's hair, and announced, "You need a new name. I think... Angel." And pressed his lips against The Creature's -- sorry, Angel's -- lips not quite as gently as they had been pressing together before, when The Creature released Our Hero from his motionless not-quite-a-prison-but-close-enough-for-fairy-tales prison.

And then, of course, the whole mansion turned into a palace, complete with a song-and-tap-dance routine that involved a full orchestra and about fifty more people than anyone had ever known to set foot in the mansion, but that was okay because True Love Had Conquered All, and that's all that matters, right?

And so they all lived happily ever after. Angst-free, of course. Because, after all, this *is* a fairy tale.

And The Creature realized that Our Hero did have a really, really nice bed.

~~~ the end ~~~