What If?

Angel stood in his office, looking over his city in a manner that he sincerely hoped was both brooding and sexy. (It wasn't really either of those, but that isn't important right now.) He watched the people walking past him in the street below, wondering exactly how to start his memoirs.

Gradually he felt someone watching him. Turning, he saw a man dressed in black half in the shadows. (Oh great,) he thought, (another demon to kill. Well, here I go to save the world from destruction. Again.) He sighed.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

The man in the shadows smiled. Angel had tried to sound menacing, but didn't quite pull it off. "I heard you solve problems," he replied quietly. "I have one for you."

Angel's expression brightened-- if that is the correct word-- at the realization that this was one more soul in trouble. *This* he could deal with. "Oh, what do you need?"

He stepped forward and extended his right hand. "The name is Krycek. Alex Krycek," he said as they shook hands. "I have someone I need killed."

Angel was stunned, then shocked. Then he was stunned again. How could he help this poor man and retain his status as Good Guy? He turned towards the window again, his mind racing with the options he had. Two, he decided: take the case or not take the case.

After a few moments of watching Angel brood, Krycek cleared his throat. "So will you help or not?"

"I don't know," he finally pushed out of his mouth.

"What do you need? Money? Drugs? Women? ... Blood?"

Angel whipped around to stare at Krycek. "...Blood?" he finally managed to push out of his mouth.

"Are we really going to play that game? I had thought better of you. Really. I know all about your little 'condition'." Somehow the "quotation marks" gesture didn't look quite right coming from a guy with only one hand he could move freely. "I know you're a vampire and that you help people. I've heard you're the best." He arched his eyebrows imploringly. "So... you gonna help me or not?"

A pained expression made its way onto Angel's face, as if the very act of wrapping his mind around the problem was hurting him. "I just... I..." he stammered, making mournful eye contact.

The younger man rolled his eyes. "Oh, cheer *up*, man!" He crossed the room dramatically, gesturing as he spoke. "I mean, I had heard you could be a little moody, but this is ridiculous! I ask you to do a simple favor-- it's a simple manner of yes or no-- and you make a huge case out of it! Sure, you can't go out in the daytime, but at least you have *two* *arms*!" He held up the prosthesis with his good arm. "So you lose your soul with one moment of true happiness. A soul's overrated anyway; got rid of mine a long time ago. You're scared of bringing back Big Scary Fangy Guy? I've seen things that would make you wet your black leather pants."

When Krycek paused for breath, Angel took the opportunity to ask "Who are you?" in a hushed tone.

"Oh, hey Alex," said Doyle as he happened by.

"Hey, Doyle," replied Krycek. "How are the PTB treatin' ya?"

"Not bad, not bad," answered Doyle.

"Good to hear. Hey, last I heard you were in Aruba or something?"

Doyle stopped in the doorway. "Burma, actually," he said carefully. "But the PTB wanted me here, I dunno why."

"I know how that goes," answered Krycek with a little smile. "They've got me all over the place. I really can't talk about it."

"Got it," said Doyle. "See you at the meeting, I guess. Your turn to bring brownies." He continued down the hallway.

Krycek turned back to Angel. "So. What's your answer?"

Angel stared at Krycek with his mouth hanging open. His jaw moved a little, but he was not able to say much more than a few vowel sounds.

Krycek shrugged. "That's what I thought. Well, I'll be seeing you around, I guess." And with that he turned and walked out of the room.

"What? Did you just turn away a potential client?" asked Cordelia, coming in as Krycek left.

"..." said Angel.

Warning We Forgot: Doyle will live on in our hearts forever.