pulled down by the undertow ;; open

[ANGELUS]

Dark eyes skimmed across the dimly lit that laid ahead of him, masking confusion. With a quick move, the vampire whipped around and tried to grab the door before it would close behind him, but his hand grabbed nothing but thin air. Only a couple of seconds ago he had walked through it and now it was gone, just like the rest of the Hyperion hotel. What kind of twisted game was this now? Was what had just happened not even an hour ago not enough for Wolfram & Hart? Angel's fists clenched by his sides. Had this happened earlier in the night, he would have probably felt intense anger towards the law firm that had done nothing but try to destroy him ever since he began making progress in the fight towards evil. In the light of what he had just found out... Maybe he had told Holland Manners and the others that he just couldn't seem to care, before he locked them in the cellar and turned his back to the horrified screams, but that was so different from what was in his heart at the moment: nothing, absolutely nothing at all. Angel had been around for over two hundred and seventy years and for nearly two hundred and fifty of them, his heart had not beaten any more. Never until now did he become so clearly aware of the stillness and coldness in his chest. Not even as Angelus had it ever felt that way. Even then, there were things that he cared about, even if those things consisted in finding new ways to torture his victims. He was empty now. Ensouled but completely devoid of any trace of humanity, of emotion.

"See, the world doesn't work in spite of evil, Angel. It works with us. It works because of us. Welcome to the Home Office."

The words were still loud and clear inside his mind, so loud and clear that every time he went over them, it was as if that rotten Manners was by his side, with a content smirk on his face upon seeing the look on his face when the doors to the elevator opened to reveal the most unexpected truth: the Home Office wasn't Hell, it was Earth. The evil force that drove Wolfram & Hart, that pulled the strings and gave the orders, was not rooted into the deepest, darkest corner of the most horrible hell dimension there was, no.

"We're in the hearts and minds of every single living being."

Evil was not something that came from the outside in order and tormented the innocent. It was the innocent themselves which created it, only to lose control over it and become its victims. If Wolfram & Hart existed onto the world and did the things it did, it wasn't because some demon pulled the strings. In this light, Wolfram & Hart was nothing more than an embodiment of the darkest impulses inside the human mind and heart. Fighting was useless because, no matter how much he would fight and try to stop evil, there would be more rising. As long as humanity existed, evil would exist, for years or maybe centuries, maybe even an eternity. If that was the case, he would never earn redemption. The Shashnu prophecy had to be nothing more but a lie, some piece in the big scheme that Wolfram & Hart had set up against him from the very begging. Didn't he find the scroll in their vault after all? Didn't Lindsay help him get in? The same Lindsay that later helped the firm bring Darla back, that watched as Drusilla killed her?

Angel clenched his jaw. He could not let them have the best of him once more, so he would have to find a way out of this place – or illusion, whatever it might turn out to be. Suddenly he remembered a small detail he had overlooked. Lifting his arm to his line of sight, his eyes fell upon the band of Blacknil, which still laid on his finger. His eyes narrowed into a cold glare as he pulled it off the finger, waiting for the setting around himself to change as he did so. For all he knew, a spell could have been put on the ring, to create an illusion or transport him to another place. There was no change in Angel's cold and dark expression as nothing happened. He put the ring into the pocket of his coat and took a better look at the place he found himself in. A dirt road... oil lamps... Angel immediately thought of Romania and the way it looked when he had been there, recently cursed with his soul. A spell to bring him to the past, to create an illusion of it? Ironic... Probably if there was a spell involved, it somehow connected to the thoughts that had ran through his mind before he reached the Hyperion, because the curse had been on his mind... just not in the way he would have ever expected it to be.

Angel tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and slowly made his way down the road. Sitting around waiting for an explanation to this or making up theories was not going to get him back – not that he had too many reasons to want to be back, but he just didn't appreciate being pulled out of his world and cast someplace and sometime which he had no information on. Since information was something that always needed to be sought out, Angel hoped that he would run into someone which he could get it out from – one way or another.

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

Going out at night probably wasn’t the most sensible thing to do, Fred realised. She’d not actually been out of the hotel since coming back to LA, choosing to stay in her room apart from the very odd occasion where she got as far as the balcony – but never when somebody else was there, because they weren’t Angel and until he got back, she could only talk to the other people through her door—but she knew of the dangers. Vampires and demons and all kinds of monsters lurked there; the last thing Fred wanted was to run into one of them, especially since they were likely to be different in this world. She didn’t even know how to kill a vampire – not in practise, anyway, although she’d read enough novels to know that a stake through the heart was likely to do it...not that she had a stake – and sure, she hadn’t actually seen any kind of monster here yet, but that wasn’t to say that they weren’t lurking round a corner, waiting to whisk her away and make her do horrible things, just like in Pylea. She didn’t even know what this world was called; not having a name made it even worse. And yet, despite knowing the dangers of the night, she felt safer creeping around during it. It was easier to hide, only oil lamps casting shadows, so much dimmer than the street lights in the city that never slept (she liked to look out her window and watch the cars go past), and if she couldn’t be seen, then she couldn’t be caught. Right now, that was all she was trying to avoid; she didn’t have anywhere to live, and she didn’t know why she was here or how she could get back, but those were daytime problems. Now she just had to damp down the sense of panic she was feeling, making her want to crawl into an alleyway and hide behind a dumpster (were there those here?), and find something to eat. Fred was good at foraging for food. That and hiding...she guessed that they were both skills that could serve her well, on the off-chance that she couldn’t figure her equations out quickly this time and find a way back so that she didn’t need to panic or hide away or pray to any god that might be listening to help her out before she lost what was left of her mind. But she wasn’t going to go crazy – crazier – this time, not until she’d scoped out the world...and settled her complaining stomach.

Fred knew what it was like to be starving. She also knew how to test berries to make sure they weren’t going to kill her, and make stuff that tasted almost like oatmeal from the plants she could find around her. She knew there was a grocer’s shop here, because she’d seen it when she’d first arrived, before she’d taken off running towards the library, but she’d spent the rest of the day hiding; she couldn’t go into a shop where there might be people, people who wanted to hurt her. But at night, there seemed to be less folks about, most of them probably doing the sensible thing and not lurking in the shadows like she was, and she could go and see if there was anything around. Fred belonged in the shadows; small, dark spaces were her favourite, where she could surround herself by walls on as many sides as possible, pressing her hands against rock or brickwork and feeling their solidity keeping her safe. Maybe she had replaced her cave in Pylea with her room in the Hyperion, one small, enclosed space for another, but Fred had felt safe there. She didn’t care how crazy it made her; she didn’t feel safe anymore. Once again, she was small and lost, and it was made worse because everything had seemed so bright and shiny for a brief moment, the prospect of a future with people who cared about her, in a real building with real food and clothes – a home – dangling right in front of her eyes, then it had been whisked away. Ner-ner, you can’t have this. Maybe it had been a dream. Maybe going to LA had been a dream, and this was just a new part of Pylea she’d not seen before, without the green demons. Or maybe being here was a nightmare. Fred often dreamed of being sucked through another portal, and away from the new life that she really liked, even if she’d not let herself get involved in it fully yet. Maybe this was just another one of those, simply more real than the others.

She might not have been a realist, at least not entirely, but Fred was pretty certain that this was anything but a dream. It would have been nice to think to, to believe that Angel would come back and he’d entice her out in a way that none of the others had been able to and she’d get better and see the world that she’d almost lost forever, and she’d carve herself a little niche in this world of lost souls that they seemed to be in...but Fred knew that if she shut her eyes and open them again, she’d still be here. She’d still be the little girl lost in a strange world, with no idea what was lurking round the corner and no-one to help her get back home. Was she destined for this forever, being sucked from one hell dimension to the next, living in a constant state of fear and insanity? Fred didn’t even know if she believed in destinies. It certainly seemed like some cruel twist of fate that had brought her to one demon dimension, let alone two. How many people did that happen to? Fred was willing to bet everything she had – which was...uh, her clothes and her glasses, so maybe she wasn’t willing to bet them ‘cause she kinda needed both of them, but if she’d had money (which she didn’t), she’d have bet that – that nobody else had been sucked into two dimensions almost consecutively. Especially not someone who had been pretty terrible at surviving the first one. Well, she’d survived, sure, but Fred knew she wasn’t the same person as she’d been when she’d first been sucked through that portal. What was going to happen to her here?

She didn’t want to think about that now. Right now, she had two things to concentrate on: not breaking down into a panic, getting food, and not getting caught. Okay, so that was three, but the latter was almost instinct; even at the hotel, she jumped whenever there was a loud noise she wasn’t expecting, momentarily terrified that something had come for her. She crept to the end of an alleyway – at least, what she thought was an alley – and peered round the corner into the main street, keeping as close to the wall as she could. Empty, except for one person so far away they were fuzzy; that was good. No people was good. Now she just had to be brave enough to step out into a place that was less enclosed than this one. “Bet you don’t have this problem,” she told a plant climbing up the wall of the building she was peering round conversationally; they never did.

[SPIKE]

"Watch your mouth, little girl. You should know better than to tempt the fates that way, 'cause the big bad is back—"

Or—he was. Spike didn't even blink and he was no longer talking into the dim expanse of area on UC Sunnydale's campus, but down a dimmer street—no, that didn't qualify as a street. It was dirt. Dirt. And were those... Oil lamps? Spike's eyes narrowed quizzically and turned his head, looking around him completely perplexed. He didn't know where he was, but it definitely wasn't Sunnydale. To him, the place appeared old, because who the hell used lamp posts powered by oil anyway? And any reasonable town would pave their streets in nice, hard concrete. It was reminiscent of places he'd been before, of times he could remember vividly. Times he wasn't necessarily as fond of as he was of modern culture. Spike liked the noise, the light and the variety of change that swept through the world since his original bringing up in the late nineteenth century. Times then were boring. And frankly, Spike would take a paved street littered with loud roaring cars over a dirt road that led through who-knows-where. "Been through this storybook once, not a spectacular read. Now, if you don't mind, kind of got plans to make—" There was no one there for him to talk to, but he called out to the air as if whatever exchanged Sunnydale for this place would be able to hear him. Weird things happened on the Hellmouth. "and a bleeding slayer to kill." Spike was acclimated to that concept and this was probably one of them. He just had to figure out what it was and get himself back where he belonged. Unfortunately, standing in the road and talking to himself wasn't going to get that accomplished.

As his heavy boots took him down his path, Spike's gaze wandered to take in the scene around him. It didn't give him any more idea on where he was, but at the very least he needed to get his bearings straight. A frustration swept through him as he walked. This was the fourth, the fourth damn time he went to Sunnydale and consequently, it was the fourth time his plans were spoiled and this time he barely got a word out before he was out of the cursed town. He was tired of it and would've given up already if it wasn't for the slayer being planted deep under his skin and the one way to get rid of her was to finish her off. He had plans this time. Plans to make plans, but the general idea was there. After his failure to get his ring back in Los Angeles, Spike wandered back to Sunnyhell for plan B. Plan B was coincidentally the same types of plans he had before the Gem of Amarra looked like a promising hunt. That night wouldn't have been the night. In fact, Spike's only intention was to shadow the slayer a little, taunt her without her knowledge and work on a way to finalize what he started two years before. He didn't want to be in Sunnydale. He wanted to be in South America, terrorizing town after town beside Drusilla. He wanted to be keeping her from checking out Chaos and Fungus demons, because he was better. He wanted the slayer dead and his life pre-Sunnydale restored in full. And for Christ's sake, he didn't want to be here! Wherever here was.

Bothered, Spike was making his way through what appeared to be a decent town; quiet and dark, but a town that probably had life in it when the sun was out. This wasn't helping. He tried to figure different scenarios that could have taken him into the new place, but nothing made sense because the whole thing really didn't. It could be the scheme of some powerful witch (for what, he could only imagine) or maybe he suffered some quick blow of unconsciousness and was actually dreaming away in the grass. As many times as Spike had been unconscious, however, he knew it didn't happen like that. Still, he tried to make sense out of something that made very little. And eventually, he had to settle to just find someone or something that might give him a little assistance in figuring that out. Too bad the streets were virtually empty and the soulless vampire was suddenly wishing that he had fed before he decided to stalk Buffy around. He was hungry and as far as he could tell, there were no tasty looking people prancing around. They didn't even have to look appetizing. He was frustrated, confused and hungry—hardly a good combination for the peroxided vamp. Nothing was going right for him tonight. If he got out of this place, he was never going back to Sunnydale again. He was tired of having his plans fall short. Too bad every time he told himself that he wasn't going back to Sunnydale he wound up right back there chasing the same goals he was before.

Walking around was boring. Maybe he could find some sort of bar; they were typically open in the later hours of the night. He felt like he was getting no where. This was all brilliant. Just sodding fantastic! His sarcasm was entering his thoughts even and the vampire was barely paying attention when he saw a head peek out from behind a nearby building. It was a girl, a mousy looking little thing, cute and conveniently placed. Distracted by the girl, Spike didn't even notice that there was another figure approaching on the same road that he was sauntering down. All he needed was a quick snack to take the edge of his hunger off and he'd be able to continue his exploring. He wasn't looking for a fight, or a chase, as much as Spike sometimes liked the adrenaline of a challenge. None of that interested him just then. He didn't even give any thought real thought to her except for she was human and full of blood. Those were the only two criteria that mattered. He slipped across the street silently, creeping to the shadows to stay out of sight before he got there. She looked a little lost herself, just judging by quick body language—scared maybe. The thought didn't cross his mind that she could be someone that might have information. He wasn't thinking ahead or with more than his teeth. "Sorry, luv. But a man's got to eat." He said under his breath before his human features morphed into game face and walked directly into her line of sight. Again, he didn't think about how he was giving her ample time to scream and take off running at the sight of his demonic face. He was being quick and messy. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything." They were Spike's only words to Fred before he reached out to try to grab her, not intending to waste time. If he had any clue that there was a very familiar figure not far from them, he probably would have thought twice for acting so fast in the open like that.

[ANGELUS]

Dirt roads, oil lamps... Angel glanced up at the buildings that flanked the road he was walking on. Most of the windows showed nothing but deep darkness behind them and the vampire's first thought was that he must have arrived in a deserted place. So, what was the catch then? If the damned law firm pulled a trick on him, then why would they send him to a completely deserted place? In the light of everything which they had done to him lately, it just made no sense, not until Angel could learn more and get to see things from a broader perspective. Hell, where was the evil in that? In the light of the night's revelation, casting him away in some deserted alternate dimension – or whatever this place was – was actually the biggest favour which they could have done him. Knowing that evil such as Wolfram & Hart existed because of the very humans which he had dedicated his life to saving made Angel completely give up on humanity and the idea of ever fighting again for them. Why bother fighting if he couldn't win? Just for the sake of trying, risking everything – specially the lives of those he cared about the most – so that, in the end, evil would laugh in his face and triumph while he would eventually crumble into a pile of dust, instead of becoming human, like that alleged prophecy from the scroll foretold?

Angel's theory on the place being deserted was quickly proven wrong when his dark brown eyes caught sight of a window which broke the dark monotony of the building facades. This one had a dim orange tint and there was also a slight flicker. Candle light. That ruled out the idea that there was no living soul in the city but more theories and questions sprang to mind. Anything was possible. He could have made a trip back in time or he could have been thrown into one of the many alternate dimensions which existed. The ones inhabiting the place could be humans, but they could also very well be demons. There was nothing he would know for sure until he actually saw more signs of life than that candle lightning up a room. It seemed prudent to think that, if there was life, this lack of activity outside the buildings, or even inside, could be a clue that the inhabitants of the town were all asleep. Hence, it was definitely late at night and Angel knew that he had to work fast to get information and find his way back to Los Angeles, before the sunrise would make him burst into flames. To be honest, he wasn't that sure that he even wanted to be back in Los Angeles, with all the bad memories that the place brought, but that seemed like a more preferable option than this place, at least until he got to learn more about the place he currently found himself in.

His every sense focused on his surroundings, in wish to prevent an assault upon him, Angel was quick to pick up the distinct sound of footsteps on the dirt. His gaze skimmed through the darkness further in front of him, his eyes narrowing in a dark, cold glare when they landed on a very familiar figure, one which he would have rather not seen again in his long, cold and painful eternity: Spike. It wasn't a secret to anyone that Angel couldn't stand Drusilla's progeny. It had been that way since the very first days when the pathetic William had been sired – despite the calculated show which Angelus had put on, pretending to care about him and assuming a mentor role – and over two hundred years had done nothing more than add to the initial irritation. What with the Billy Idol wannabe being in this place as well, Angel was ready to rethink the possibilities about this place being an actual hell. The older vampire drew closer to the buildings, standing still in the deepest shadows while keeping a close eye on Spike. After the incident with the Gem of Amarra, Angel wouldn't have put it beyond the chip brain to have done something to cause this weird phenomenon. Maybe the peroxided vampire had tried some spells to get that chip out of his brain and ended up creating interdimensional portals. It wasn't like Spike had ever been the type to think before acting anyway.

For the moment Angel was content with just letting the younger vampire approach. When he'd get close enough... Oh, he would regret having been the first one to walk into in this strange place, in this exact night out of all nights. Angel's plan was fooled when he saw Spike suddenly lounging at a human girl. "What the...", he muttered under his breath. Damn it, he'd done something to the chip because last he heard, Spike wasn't supposed to be capable of doing anything that looked like he would harm humans. In the blink of an eye, completly quiet, Angel rushed behind the peroxided vampire and attempted to roughly grab him by the back of his throat. "I could say the same, William." His tone was coled and filled with anger and it didn't change in the slightest when he commanded the girl: "Get out of my sight, now!" Maybe that was not the best thing that he could have chosen to say to someone which had just been attacked by a vampire but Angel didn't really care about the girl. If he tried to stop Spike, it was only because he was much too angry at everything and anything and the neutered vampire was just the conveniently perfect target to take it all out on.

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

This place was like something out of a book; she’d not spent long enough in it during the day to really see that, what with the fleeing and hiding, but now that she felt relatively safe – and it was all relative – among the shadows, Fred had a better chance to look around. She imagined it was different during the day, when there were people around (whether those people were ones who were native to this world, or here accidentally like her or that doctor from the library), but right now, it seemed very...Victorian. Or at least what she imagined Victorian times would have looked like, with the oil lamps and the streets not being made of tarmac, given that she had no first-hand experience of the time, of course. If this had been a dream, Fred might have been excited, because she’d read more than her fair share of Dickensian novels, but there was no excitement at the prospect of exploring this new world; if she hadn’t been starving, she’d have been huddled in a dark corner somewhere, her jacket as a blanket, waiting for morning to come so she could see enough without needing to squint to find a more permanent place to live, at least until she could get home again. She wondered if there were caves here; it wouldn’t compare to her room at the Hyperion, but Fred could make herself extremely comfortable in a cave if necessary.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Fred screamed. Actually, that was untrue; it wasn’t like she’d never seen a vampire before, and if there were those in this strange world, who was to say what other beasties there’d be here? The sound was more of a muffled squeal, Fred pressing herself against the wall and hoping that he was talking to some other person who just happened to be in her general direction. She looked all around her, hoping that this fictitious other person was armed and ready to kill the vampire, but nope, there was just her. Just Fred; again, she was left to defend herself against something that was infinitely stronger than she was, purely by virtue of the fact that she was human, and it was not. She was a pretty weak human at that. “Could at least’ve sent me to a dimension without vampires,” she told the plant, sidling along the wall a little, trying to get away from the vampire without actually running. They tended to catch you if you ran, and then they made the whole killing-you part a whole lot worse, just because you’d not gone along with their idea that sticking fangs into you was fun. Not that Fred had ever experienced that before, because she’d be dead if so, but she definitely knew from experience that you should only run away if you could guarantee they wouldn’t catch you. This guy was a vampire; even if he wasn’t like the ones in her world (though the bumpy face and casual words kind of indicated he was), he was still going to be faster than her. Fred had never been much good at running. She looked around her for an escape route, and her gaze fell on the plant again. It would be easier, being like that; nobody wanted to eat you. Not unless you were a herb, or a vegetable, but then your sole purpose in life was to be eaten, so that probably made it okay. “D’you mind if I...?” she asked it, seemingly waiting for an inaudible answer before snapping a twig from it, holding it up as threateningly as she could manage as the vampire came towards her – which wasn’t much, since she was also taking more and more steps backwards, and trying to shrink at the same time, and not let him know how scared she was that she was going to die in another stupid dimension. Okay, so the twig would probably break miles before it got to his heart, but at least it would tell him that he wasn’t dealing with someone who had no idea what he was...right? Right; Fred had to believe that. If she was going to become dinner, she could at least pretend to fight first.

"Get out of my sight, now!"

When the vampire lunged at her though, holding her tight and meaning that any faint ideas she still had about bolting went right out the window, Fred did scream; she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to die confused and scared and alone in some world that wasn’t hers, without Angel or her other friends or her parents even knowing what had happened to her for the past five years. And she certainly didn’t want to die at the hands of some vampire, when the only one she’d ever met was Angel and he’d kind of skewed her perspective on them a little, what with him being a good guy and everything. It certainly wasn’t the bumpy face that was the scary part (that might have been almost funny, if it had been without intent), but rather the part where this guy clearly meant to kill her so his stomach wouldn’t rumble. Well, she was hungry too, and she wasn’t looking for vulnerable people to eat! She screwed her eyes shut, holding the twig up just in case, and was perfectly prepared to knee him in the groin if it came to it—but nothing happened. Fred waited, sure that the voice she’d heard was just her imagination trying to reassure her (was she dead already?), but then she opened first one eye, then the other, and practically screamed again, this time with relief. “Angel!” she said, doing everything she could to avoid looking at the vampire that had tried to make her into dinner – William, was he called? Seeing him there was the best thing that had happened since arriving in this place; she was still terrified, naturally, but she knew that an alternate dimension couldn’t be all bad if Angel was here to save her. Sure, it might have been better if, just for a little while, Fred could find herself in a situation where she didn’t need saving, but right now, she wasn’t going to complain at seeing her fanged knight in shining armour. If anyone could do what she’d not been able to and figure a way out of here, it was him; he’d done it before. Fred fully believed that he could do it again.

She crept round the vampire, head down and arms wrapped around her middle, as if that would help protect her in anyway, heading for Angel’s side. She smiled up at him, her fear noticeably less just by his presence, darting a nervous glance at the blonde vampire before wrapping her arms around Angel. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been so scared and I didn’t know if you were gonna come ‘cause you were still away and I’ve been tryin’ not to freak out ‘cause I knew you’d come as soon as you heard but it’s been really hard ‘cause just the words ‘alternate dimension’ make me want to have a panic—” Fred stopped what she was saying abruptly, silenced by Angel’s words. She let go of him, looking as though he’d just slapped her across the face, and backed away, utterly confused. He didn’t talk to her like that. Angel never talked to her like that; even if he was angry, he was always gentle, because he knew that anything more would have her building herself a burrow faster than he could apologise. But now...Fred didn’t stop backing away until her back hit the brick wall she’d been using as cover mere minutes before, mindless of the fact that they weren’t actually alone here. Angel had stopped the vampire from killing her, that was great, because ending up as dinner hadn’t been in Fred’s game plan, but the momentary relief she’d felt was now replaced by complete bewilderment. “Angel?”

[SPIKE]

A smart move might have been to approach the human with a little more tact than Spike presented. At the time, however, his brain was centred around one concept: kill. Sure, he could have changed course and found a way to creep up from a different direction and catch her before she had a chance to so much as register him there, or he could have casually strolled up, gained her trust and sank his fangs in. But, see, that took time, time that Spike's stomach didn't feel like warranting him. Who knew when he was going to be able to grab his next person? Actually, if he paid a little more attention to the buildings around him, he might have realized that there was human life in that town and if he was stuck there for an extended period of time he could probably live off of whatever straggler wandered around at night. Instead of thinking, Spike wound up terrifying the little thing—terrifying her straight into talking to a plant. The peroxide blonde wasn't sure if she was the type to gab at a plant before or after he arrived. It didn't matter either way. If she dealt with her fear by asking permission to tear off a twig then by all means she could converse with plants all she wanted while he fed off of her. Spike wasn't complaining as long as he had blood. What interested him was that even in this strange place (that he couldn't even properly name), there was someone that knew what he was and how to handle it. Now, he wouldn't consider wielding a twig to be handling the situation very well, but she obviously knew the concept. So now, not only did he intend on killing off the only human life he found so far, but one that could pinpoint what he was and might even be able to help him figure out where the hell he was. Maybe. At the very least, maybe she was in a similar scenario. Spike guessed he would never know, because he still planned to bite her.

With no intention on small talk, Spike lunged fast, his hands tight on her and mouth open diving for the bite before he was stopped short. If he ever had an ounce of luck, it was gone now. Could he not even grab a bite anymore without someone stopping him? Oh, and not just any someone. He recognized the voice automatically when the hand grabbed him by the back of the throat. Angel? Oh, sod it all! Spike was in Hell! That was it; there was no other explanation for it. And it was a clever Hell too. It would be just like whatever fate was out there for him to keep him in an eternity where he chased down some warm little victim only to be knocked out of the way over and over again by Captain Forehead and his self-righteous need to help the helpless. The second he was grabbed, he let go of the girl, watching as she scurried to Angel's side. Frustrated, Spike slammed an elbow backwards towards the older vampire, in hopes that it would free him from any contact. "Get off, you miserable poof." He growled, but was even more surprised when he yelled at the girl who seemed to know him. Now, that made this even more weird. The brunette woman had started rambling like she was old buddies with the ensouled vampire. Had he managed more friends in the short time since Spike visited LA? He had just returned from LA when he arrived in Sunnydale and the only two people (discounting Oz) was Cordelia and that Irish man that insisted on being a part of the new Team Angel. Unlike them, Fred didn't look like the jump up and fight type—more like run and hide.

And Angel, being the valiant hero he was... Commanded her to get out of his sight. Had he finally gone off the deep end? Spike didn't consider that he had reverted back to his big bad self again. Saving the girl wouldn't have made any sense then, aside from screwing with Spike. But, even then, the demand that the girl go... That didn't fit. It was something else, and the blonde didn't wrap his mind around it. And on second thought, he really didn't care. He wanted Angel gone. At this point, Spike didn't care if he had all of the answers to his predicament, he didn't feel like dealing with him. Funny how it wasn't even him that was doing the dealing. In addition to not being in the position to deal anything out, he probably wasn't in one to be talkative either, but in typical Spike fashion, he very much was.

"Well, that's one way to do it! Girl's nearly eaten and you swoop in and yell at her. Some big strapping hero, you are." Okay, so Spike was technically the one that was trying to eat her, but he thought it was Angel's behaviour that needed commentary. He was mocking him. Spike wasn't concerned about Fred's fear. If he had been, then he wouldn't have attacked to begin with. Obviously, though, Angel wasn't there to let him have a snack and he wasn't in the mood to fight for it. He was in the mood for something easy and if it was going to take him an epic fight with the dark haired vampire then he'd just rather not have it at all. He scoffed at him, "Probably scared her even worse than I did. And that's saying something." Spike rambled. He could have a stake to his chest and the vampire probably wouldn't shut up. It was the way he worked and he was sure that he could make it out of this without too much damage. He'd gotten out of worse. Though, he really had no way of understanding what kind of state Angel was in. He abruptly sent a look at Fred, the yellow eyes of the demon not actually trying to be threatening as they glanced at her, and when he addressed her it was hardly cruel or of a vampire hell bent on eating her. "Sorry, pet. Looks like Forehead here's lost his hero manners." He commented as if truly apologetic, when it was only another jibe at Angel. To be honest, he would have liked this whole situation to disappear. That night was supposed to be the start of his newest plot to kill the slayer. Not, jump into an—alternate dimension? The girl had mentioned one, so maybe she knew a little more than he initially assumed.

[ANGELUS]

Angel had always been the silent type, keeping to himself, surrounding himself in an aura of mystery, in his wish to avoid harming the ones which he might get attached to. Up until recently, it could be said that he had softened, that he had started being more open about himself to his closest friends – his only friends -, his team. But even if he would have continued to be completely shut off from anyone, it would have been completely obvious to any person that would have seen him and Spike together for five minutes, to realize just how much he disliked the other vampire's presence. Had anyone asked him to make a list of people which he would never want to be alone with in a deserted place for an extended period of time, Spike's name would have found itself on a very nice position right at the top of it. He couldn't even begin to think of all the things which he disliked about the peroxided vampire, simply because there were so many of them. Spike was reckless, he was cocky, he talked too much – far, far too much –, he had tried to kill him for Drusilla's sake, he was the reason why he had endured hours and hours of being impaled on swords or pokers, he'd been trying to kill Buffy. Were these alone not enough to dislike Spike? After all, these were only things which had happened during the recent years and they were more than enough in Angel's mind.

Spike should have been a pile of gust by now. There had been opportunities to do humanity a favor and get him off the streets. Even as Angelus he had been infuriated enough with his actions so as to be more than glad to put an end to Drusilla's progeny. Once he got his soul and a little guidance from Whistler and Doyle, Angel's purpose became ridding the world of evil such as vampires and Spike should have been no exception from that goal. Had Angel actually given enough credit to Spike's skill and intelligence, he would have probably tracked him down and slain him a long time ago, ever since he first showed his peroxided head in Sunnydale. Spike had done his share of bad deeds lately, but ultimately his half-baked plans constantly got sidetracked. With the chip being an inhibitor to his natural feeding urges now, the peroxided vampire was hardly a danger worth seeking and taking out. If anything, it would have just been a waste of energy staking him, or doing him a favor. Angel had never cared about letting be, not until he became too embittered by his life for him to be willing to tolerate any exceptions from his policy of cutting evil from the roots. After having gone as far as to set Drusilla and Darla herself on fire, it seemed natural that he would take out the last reminder of his past, specially since Spike was conveniently in this strange place and had nearly walked right into him, had dinner not distracted him.

Angel gripped on his throat tightly, glaring darkly at the back of his head. He'd anticipated that Spike would try to make him let go, so he was able to quickly dodge his elbow to the side, quickly reaching out with his free hand to grab it, aiming to twist it painfully behind his back. "Not going to happen", he threatened. For only a few moments, his grip on Spike's next loosened, when Angel heard Spike's victim call out his name. His brown eyes seized her up in suspicion. There was no sign of confusion, Angel made a purpose not to show any more signs of human emotions in front of strangers – or anyone for that matter. He had never seen the girl before in his long life, there was no doubt in his mind about it. His visual memory could be classed as excellent and never did he forget the face of someone whom had gotten to know him on a name basis, who wasn't just another face in the crowd. Right now, the girl was just another face and Angel was quick to attribute her reaction to panic. Not like she would be the first one to mistake him for an angel – as much as he would have wanted to rip that memory out of his mind.

"How did you do that, Spike?" If he was asking that, it was just because there was a bit of curiosity about how he would have managed to remove that chip, even if that wouldn't matter after Spike would be dusted. The girl, which seemed to be leaving, was nearly forgotten. Until her arms were suddenly wrapped around him and she was saying things which made no sense to Angel. He could have very well been a block of ice, such was his reaction when he was hugged. His expression only grew sterner and colder than it had been before. Two conflicting instincts took over. One dictated that he stayed the way he was, taking advantage of the upper hand he had on Spike. The other – that he ignored Spike in favor of dealing with the girl and finding out why she was talking as if she knew who he was. She'd been waiting for him and knew that he would come? This words alone didn't settle well at all with Angel and the possibility that she could be behind the strange transportation seemed very likely to him. It made no sense why Spike would be there too but there was time to figure that out after he dealt with him. The girl seemed to have gotten the message that he didn't want her close and, very luckily for him, she remained very close and looked like she had nowhere to run.

For the moment, he ignored her saying his name again, tightening his grip on Spike's neck more and more as a reminder that it really wasn't the best moment for him to piss him off. "I think you need to shut up, Spike. How I do things is none of your concern. I don't care how scared she is." He had made a point not to care about humans anyway and he wasn't going to change his mind, specially not when he was suspecting that the human in question had caused him to arrive to this place. "As for you...", he added, turning his head to give Fred a look that didn't show nothing good, "... you'd better explain where here is, how did you bring me here and how do you know my name. Try to be convincing, or you will be next in line." He used his intimidation to the fullest, disregarding the fear which he could sense from her. Angel wasn't willing to let cheap tricks distract him, not after having learned his lesson from Wolfram & Hart.

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

Okay, so Fred was willing to admit that a twig probably wasn’t the best defence against a vampire who could probably crush her with his hands if he didn’t want to drink from her first, but Fred wasn’t exactly thinking straight right now; as if her general fear at being here wasn’t enough, now this guy had gone and added to it, and her brain didn’t know what to do first. There was only so much it could process at a time; everything else just floated around and contributed to her craziness, until she could figure it out, or make it into a story, or something that helped her cope. Not that Fred thought she could cope with this. Alternate dimensions were bad enough – well, worse than bad, they were pretty much the most terrible things ever, second only to slow torture and then death – but one with vampires? More to the point, vampires that had grabbed her tight enough to hurt, and probably couldn’t even feel the twig she was trying to press against his heart, it was bending so much (it was supposed to go in. Go in and poke him in the heart, and turn him to dust, once it had gotten through the layers of epidermis and fat and tissue and broken through the ribcage and plunged into the heart muscle). Fred was pretty sure that he just had to look at her to see how terrified she was; she definitely had a rabbit-in-the-headlights air to her. Except there weren’t any headlights, because you needed cars for that, and this place didn’t seem to have any. But at least she was trying; it might not have done anything to help her, but Fred didn’t die without some kind of a fight. Her survival instinct was too great for that.

"Probably scared her even worse than I did. And that's saying something. Sorry, pet.”

She might not have known who this vampire was, even if Angel appeared to, but Fred had to admit that he was probably right. Hearing Angel talk to her like that was far scarier than being faced with a bumpy face and fangs, because it was Angel. She’d been waiting months for him to come back, asking every day if he’d returned and then going back to hiding when she was informed that he hadn’t (she couldn’t accept their offers to come downstairs for a little while; it was too big downstairs), and she’d thought that seeing him again would be the best thing that had happened to her since coming back – and that included the time when Charles had brought Chinese food and she’d opened her door and he’d sat one side of the threshold and her on the other, and it had almost been like what she thought being normal would be like. The moment she’d recognised him, the fear at being eaten had gone, because she’d known that Angel could fight any vampire he liked, leaving only the residual panic about being in another alternate dimension, something that was Fred’s worst nightmare. Angel would know; she’d expected him to tell her that it was alright, that he understood she was scared and he was going to get them home as soon as he’d dealt with the other vampire...but instead the snapping. It would have hurt less – and been less scary – if he’d just hit her. Of course, that would have put serious strain on the trust she had for him, and she might never have been able to look at him properly again, but it wasn’t like this was making her any more comfortable. She looked from Angel to the other vampire, still gripping her silly little twig close, as if it would actually help her; the one person she’d thought could help was here, but he didn’t seem to be doing any helping at all—aside from the part where he’d pulled the evil vampire off her. “You tried to eat me. I’m not your pet,” she said, because really, the guy who’d been about to bite her suddenly acting like the good guy, as well as being slightly creepy, was really not appreciated. This whole situation wasn’t appreciated; Fred wanted to go back to a time when she was in the world she was supposed to be in, and Angel was nice and gentle and non-snappish, and she wasn’t being almost eaten by vampires who then tried to use terms of endearment on her.

"You'd better explain where here is, how did you bring me here and how do you know my name."

Fred visibly shrank against the wall as Angel turned to her, his expression so unlike anything she’d ever seen on his face before. She knew he could be ruthless if he had to be, and she wasn’t scared of the demon inside him, because in this world, his vampire face was far milder than it had been in Pylea—but this Angel was one she was scared of. And Fred had never thought that would be something she would say; she trusted Angel with her life, and would have done absolutely anything for him. Now he was making her want to hide, and in the middle of a street, there weren’t too many places that could make her feel safe enough, not to mention the fact that this was Angel. Of all the people in the world – in all the different worlds – he was the one that Fred shouldn’t have been afraid of. She was the one she didn’t want to be scared of, because he was the only person that could make being in this strange place even remotely bearable, and he was the only one she really trusted to get her back home again. “Why don’t you remember me?” she asked in a small voice, trying to go further away from him, except her back was already against the wall; instead, Fred slid down it until she was crouching, curled up on herself, one hand gripping the side of the plant pot that had been a very good conversationalist earlier, as if it would help somehow. She wouldn’t even be able to pick it up on her own, so it wouldn’t. “Angel, please. You’re scaring me.” Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he see that whatever game he thought he was playing right now, however funny he thought it was, she was absolutely terrified of him – more scared than she’d been of the blonde vampire (who she’d thought was called William, but now Angel was calling Spike), because she hadn’t known him. Sure, she’d not wanted to die and become his dinner, but she guessed she’d just been unlucky. She knew Angel, and the trust that she had for him was slowly splintering apart, and Fred didn’t understand why; it was that which was scaring her more.

It was a dream. Despite what the guy in the library had said, despite all the evidence to the contrary, this had to be a dream. Fred pinched herself hard, just to make sure, and it hurt—but it didn’t wake her up. “Just a bad dream, Fred,” she told herself, but she didn’t believe it now anymore than he had done when she’d first got here. Fred’s experiences of alternate dimensions were too real for her to dream about them. Besides, why would she imagine this; all of her nightmares involved Pylea, or being sucked through numerous portals, but her subconscious never constructed entire worlds. And she knew that no part of her mind would stick her in a world where Angel didn’t recognise her, and was mean, so that meant it had to be real. Fred didn’t think that was in the slightest bit reassuring. If it was a dream, she would wake up from it, and be in the right dimension, just waiting for Angel to get back. But it being real meant that she was in another dimension, again, and she’d almost been eaten by some unknown vampire that was now calling her ‘pet’, and Angel was acting really weird. What had going away done to him? “I-I don’t know where we are, or how we got here, ‘cause it definitely wasn’t me, and—and I know your name ‘cause I know you. And you know me, in case that wasn’t clear.” She looked up at him, hoping for some spark of recognition, and only getting another wave of panic from his frankly terrifying expression, causing her to bow her head, a couple of dry, panicked sobs coming out before she pulled herself together enough; she wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t have a clue what was going on here, but Fred wasn’t going to cry. “Why don’t you know me?” she asked again, her voice now directed somewhere between her knees, bent up against her chest, and the floor by her feet. “Angel...please remember. I need you to remember.” She didn’t just need him to remember; she needed him. The proper him that she knew, not this version of him.

[SPIKE]

It was bad enough that dinner was cancelled for Spike, but to be interrupted by the brooding wonder himself—that just worsened the entire situation. It felt like a strong coincidence that he was stuck in that strange place too, but Angel was distracting him from contemplating the odds of it. The attempt to throw his elbow back against him failed and he clenched his teeth and growled in discomfort and irritation as the arm twisted behind his back. He should have known that move was going to be made, but the desperation to get out of his grip won and Spike didn't consider how easily he could counter it. The ensouled vampire had the advantage, but the peroxide blonde wasn't ready to let it deter him. What was he supposed to do? Stand there and wait and see if Angel tried to pop his head off? That wasn't going to happen. He was tired of his plans being burned prematurely. It was too recurring for his taste and he didn't appreciate having something as simple as dinner being rescheduled by the older vamp. Suddenly being in that place was enough of a detour from his initial plans, he didn't need Angel there too. Hell. It had to be Hell. "Y'know, this is getting really old," he hissed, obviously finding even more annoyance in the position he was pulled into. And while Spike might have been reckless and thoughtless a majority of the time, the wheels in his head started turning this time. He would figure out a move to get himself out of it. Spike wasn't just some vampire that Angel could rush in save the girl and kill. Oh no, it wasn't that easy and Spike didn't really fear dying there at all. He hadn't managed it so far, but better safe than dust. And if anyone was going to take him out he would not let it be him.

"How did you do that, Spike?"

While Angel couldn't see it given that he was behind him, a quizzical look furrowed on the vampire's brow. So far, he hadn't been able to do anything. At least not anything that was outside of his normal capabilities. He tried to backtrack, to think back on his actions within the last couple minutes but there was nothing that warranted that kind of question. Especially since he failed miserably at biting the girl and at elbowing his attacker. "Do what? You're not exactly making it easy to do anything, you git." That was the intent, wasn't it? Spike didn't think Angel was just going to let him go so he could finish what he started and now that he was stopped, he didn't know if he really wanted to anyway. He came in and trampled all over his desire to bite the girl. Now, he just wanted to smash the other male's head into the building and move on. And that girl, well, she was a strange one, wasn't she? Not to mention not at all appreciative of his defence of her (though it wasn't as much of a defence as it was an insult towards Angel's idea of saving someone). "Yeah, but I didn't yell at you." Spike reminded her, although, trying to bite someone was probably considered a worse offence. After all, Angel wasn't trying to kill the human. But, he seemed to be more than willing to threaten her. It was all weird and even Spike was picking up on a very different side of him. He was certain that he was ensouled and yet Angel was making Angelus seem like caring one and that was just very, very backwards. Frankly, Spike didn't care what was wrong with him. He could go off and yell and brood elsewhere.

Spike let out a grunt of pain as the grip tightened on his neck. Warnings of that nature weren't going to quiet him though. It took a lot to bring Spike to silence and Angel should know that after all that time. The situation was all jumbled. The scared girl shouldn't have her fear increase after being saved. Naturally, it was supposed to go down and yet he was smelling that fear even more so than he had when it all started. Brought on by Angel, he was sure. He didn't know the history between the two, but it sounded like she really did know him. He highly doubted she was just a good actor. It was too genuine and as Angel demanded answers, Spike was stunned. Even he assumed she might have some information, but as careless and angry as Angel sounded it made it seem like she was the enemy. And Spike had a hard time making that jump. She was an innocent girl, obviously looking to Angel to be a hero. "Bloody hell, did all those pokers damage your brain? I thought you were supposed to save people when you got a soul." It wasn't that he cared whether or not he killed or saved people, it was a matter of principle and he honestly thought that maybe he had lost his mind somewhere along the line and in such a short period of time too. It hadn't been very long since Spike was watching him get the hell tortured out of him for that ring. It was just before he rushed back to Sunnydale again.

As the girl sank to the ground next to the wall, Spike's features returned to their human form, but it was far from a move of surrender. He hadn't thrown any shots at the vampire holding him since the last try but it wasn't over. He was just biding his time a little, hoping to catch him off guard when he did make his move. Instead, his focus turned to Fred. He didn't even have a soul and he almost felt bad for the bird. That was so very wrong. If anyone should be bringing her to tears it was probably Spike. Though, he wasn't really into the whole mental torture game before he killed. It was the thrill of the kill itself that drew him in. But, of the two vampires there, he thought he was the more likely to be, well, evil. And he was. But, apparently, even with a soul Angel had that claim all to himself. He was going to drive her insane without even trying. "Also, I think the whole driving girls out of their head phase was supposed to be over too. Or, did you just finally give up on the good boy act and decided to return as a more miserable, callous version of your old glory?" Again, he was going off, and this time, directly following his question, he kicked backwards, attempting to drive the heel of his boot against Angel's ankle.

[ANGELUS]

If Angel needed more proof that Spike was reckless and didn't think his actions through, the younger vampire's weak attempt to drive him away served that purpose just fine. All it took was a bit more thinking for Spike to have been able to tell that he had the necessary experience to predict such a move (it was impossible to count the vampires that had ever tried that move on him) and the agility and speed to dodge the blow and turn the move to his own advantage. This really said a lot about Spike, didn't it? Sometimes Angel really wondered how the peroxided vampire managed to last for so long, what with his way of acting first, thinking later – or never. As the move succeeded, Angel gripped Spike's arm tightly, twisting it into what had to be a very painful manner, even for the standards of a vampire. He'd never been one to show a vampire sympathy and, when it boiled down to Spike, the idea of ever doing so would never even cross Angel's mind. "Really, Spike?", Angel asked in a mock surprised tone. "What part of it? The one where you keep crossing my path at the wrong moment? Because I might agree with you if that's the case." There was more than just the usual annoyance in Angel's tone. It was laced with something much darker. To anyone it would have been obvious that he had no intention of taking things lightly, of letting Spike get out of this one, even if there had been such worse situations from which he had allowed him to leave. Angel was a different person now.

Angel wasn't surprised that Spike would try to play the innocent and pretend he had no idea what he was talking about. Hell, he would have dubbed him insane if he would have just blurted out a completely honest answer to that question. As much as he had tried to, Angel had been unable to understand the logic behind Buffy sparing Spike's life and keeping him around, only because he had that government chip in that head. He wasn't even sure that Spike having gotten the chip was the reason why Buffy hadn't just ended his pathetic existence months ago. Knowing Buffy, Angel liked to think that things were that way and, knowing Spike, he also liked to think that if he had found a way to rid himself of the little gadget that kept him from feeding like a normal vampire would, he would – for once – be smart enough as to pretend that he was still very much neutered. Too bad for Spike that he couldn't have been smart enough as to pay more attention to whom was lurking in the shadows, before rushing to sink his teeth into the first human being that crossed his path. "You know what I'm talking about, Spike. How did you attack without your chip firing off? How did you disable it?" Angel didn't have time to play his games, so he took the most direct approach there could be. It would be a cold day in hell before he would let Spike fool him with his "wasn't me" acts.

The taller vampire glared darkly at Spike during his little exchange with the girl. What was this anyway? One moment she was on his dinner list, the other he was being sympathetic with her? Did too much peroxide damage his brain? Or maybe whatever he did to have the chip removed or turned off also removed the remainder of his brain cells? If he thought he turn the tables and play the good caring vampire so that he would earn the girl's trust and somehow make her try something against him, Spike had to be out of his mind. He would be a pile of dust before Angel would allow such a thing to happen. Not that he was worried that Spike would ruin his hero image, because for a while now Angel had stopped being the hero. It all boiled down to his aim of getting information out of the girl and, having to hurt or kill her because of Spike's games would have put a damper on that plan. His attention shifted back to the girl in question when he heard her question his reasons for not remembering her. His mind searched again but there was absolutely no name, no place, no event which he could associate with her face. It was the first time in which he was laying eyes on her in over two centuries of existence. "Because I don't know you. I've never seen you in my life", he replied coldly, stating the obvious. The fact that the contrary couldn't be said, bothered Angel but he was going to do whatever it took to find out what was the connection between the strange girl claiming to know him, his strange arrival at this place and, ultimately, Wolfram & Hart.

When Spike's voice was heard again, Angel gave another hard squeeze to his neck. "That's exactly what happened, isn't it. She was saved from being your dinner." Passive. Saving her had been pretty much just an inevitable consequence of Angel picking on Spike. Had it been just any other vampire, he would have just walked past the scene and lifted his shoulders slightly, so as to muffle down the sounds of her screaming. They always screamed at the beginning. Then their screams slowly faded away, the blood leaving their body taking away the strength they needed to fight it off. Slowly, they surrendered to death, they lost their warmth and their heart stopped beating... Thinking about this would have usually made Angel shudder and shut himself off from the world for weeks. Now... now he just couldn't bother to pretend, not even towards himself, that it was wrong to think like that. That it was wrong to have the normal urges and instincts. Angel was tired of thinking and reacting like a human would. He wasn't one of them, he would never be one of them again and... he didn't even want to be one of them any more. "I might have a soul, but I don't have a heart", he added, as his grip on Spike's throat and hand increased again.

The girl caught his attention one more time and Angel focused on her. Moments before she has said that he was scaring her but Angel had chosen to not comment about it. He didn't need her to point out to the fact that she was scared, he could sense her fear, he could smell it. Now, he could see it in the way in which she crouched next to that wall. Her entire body language showed nothing but pure, undissimulated fear. Angel knew more about fear than any other vampire did. As Angelus, he had spent more than one hundred years torturing people, seeding fear into their souls, making it grow. He had relished in every little aspect of it. Every pained look and every whimper were a reward to him. A soul could not just erase all of those memories, as much as Angel had wanted it to happen. They stayed with him and, right now, they were what told him that the girl was absolutely horrified – so much more than she had been when Spike had his hands on her, getting ready to drink her. "I don't believe you, not after you just said you were waiting for me. How do you know me?" He sounded even harsher than before but when she lifted her eyes and he saw her reaction to him, something changed in Angel's expression.

He didn't care. He didn't care when he had locked a group of lawyers in a wine cellar with two sadistic vampires. He didn't care when he had set the woman whom he had spent more than a century with on fire. Minutes before, after Manners showed him the truth, he made a point not to care about humans again. Right now, Angel was finding it increasingly harder not to care. This was the state in which she had managed to put someone in? Him, Angel? Not Angelus, the one who used to drive his victims over the edge of insanity before killing them? What was it about this girl that was getting to him? Before Angel could waste more time analyzing his reaction to the girl's fear, Spike spoke again. It annoyed the older vampire to no end to realize that part of what captain peroxide had said was right: he would drive the girl insane if he kept it up. Shut up, S..." He cut himself when Spike's boot connected to his ankle. It hurt but Angel channeled his pain into a menacing growl. "Now, I'm really mad", he announced as he decided to just end it already. "See you in hell, Spike." In a blink of eye, Angel released Spike's throat and pressed his free hand directly against Spike's back – at heart level – firing the mechanism that released a stake from underneath his sleeve.

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

If Fred had to catalogue her worst nightmares, she couldn’t honestly say that she’d ever envisaged this situation being among them. After all, she didn’t know the blonde vampire, and she’d never in a million years imagined a situation where Angel would not only not remember her, but also be really mean about it. Angel wasn’t like that – not to her, anyway. And yet, all the times when she’d awoken terrified, having dreamt that somebody had put an electric shock collar on her again, or a portal had sucked her away (or a variation on that, where the portal sucked everyone else away, leaving Fred in the world she wanted to be in but without anybody here with her), or Angel had never come to rescue her and she was still stuck in Pylea, believing that that was the only life she’d ever known—all of those seemed kind of irrelevant, when she was currently living in a nightmare so bad even her subconscious hadn’t been able to imagine it. Alternate dimensions were bad enough; the very mention of a portal could cause Fred to freak out, and with good reason, she thought. She would have done anything not to be sucked through one again, and yet, here she was. That in itself was enough to make her curl into a ball and cry; other dimensions terrified her, especially when she was alone. And she had been alone, when she’d arrived her. Given the circumstances, Fred didn’t think her freaking out had been all that terrible. But now...seeing Angel was supposed to have been a good thing. Having him here was supposed to mean that he’d found a way to get her out, and he was going to save her again, because that was what he did. Angel saved people. At least, he was supposed to; he was definitely doing a good job at being scary rather than a saviour right now. It was all messed up, and even Fred, who would have been willing to admit that she was more than a little crazy, couldn’t work it out. Things weren’t supposed to be this way. Even nightmares.

She tried to track the conversation between the two vampires, deciding that Angel had probably stopped Spike (what kind of a name was ‘Spike’, anyway?) trying to kill girls like her for a while. Everything else, however, failed to register; she was still hung up on the fact that Angel didn’t recognise her, and the man who’d almost become her killer was somehow trying to get her to accept his defence of her. She didn’t need defending! Actually, that was a lie, because Fred knew that she did, but she didn’t need one evil vampire taking her case against another...was Angel evil now? Or just in a bad mood? Perhaps coming through to this dimension had given him amnesia, but he seemed very sure about the fact that he didn’t know her; most amnesiacs could feel the hole in their memories. “Sure, you only tried to eat me,” Fred told Spike quietly, although actually, she was beginning to feel that that was the lesser of the two evils. More permanent, sure, if he’d actually succeeded, but Angel had hurt her pretty badly too. It might not have been the same as being drained of all her blood, but betrayal hurt just as much, and it was something you had to live with. Maybe Angel couldn’t remember her, but Fred might have been able to live with that, if he hadn’t been so intimidating about it; lost memories were one thing, but acting worse than the guy who had no problem with killing people for food? There was something extremely wrong about that. “You do know me,” she protested warily, trying to make him see, trying to get him to remember, so he could stop being so scary and go back to being the man who’d promised her everything would be okay, and not asked for anything in return for helping her. “I’m Fred.”

"I don't believe you, not after you just said you were waiting for me. How do you know me?"

Fred couldn’t answer; how could he be doing this to her? Was the other vampire – Spike – right, and somehow, the soul that had made Angel good, that had made him come to Pylea to save his friend, and save some random girl he’d come across at the same time, the soul that had meant she trusted him more than anybody in the entire world, had gone? Was Angel evil now? She knew it was a possibility; though nobody spoke of it to her, Fred wasn’t stupid; she knew that vampires as a rule didn’t have souls, and that the fact that Angel had one meant that it had to be some kind of magic holding it there. Magic could be broken. Or maybe he still had his soul, and he’d finally realised that Fred was spending so much of her time mooching off him, not getting better but clamouring for his attention nonetheless, and so he’d chosen to pretend she didn’t exist. She could understand why, because it didn’t sound like something Angel would do, but she was trying extremely hard to rationalise his behaviour in her mind, and it wasn’t working. There was no rational explanation for this – for any of this. The only person who appeared to be acting as normal was Spike; sure, he’d tried to eat her, and that was scary, but Fred could understand that, because it was his nature. He was evil, it was what he did. But portals without flashy lights and wooshy noises? Angel? That wasn’t expected. Fred didn’t know what to do with the information, not when he was scaring her so much she’d started crying without realising it. Fred brushed her hand against her face, looking anywhere but at Angel; if she looked at him, she could see how intimidating he was – which was scary enough – and the trust she had for him shattering on the ground. It was like he’d slapped her, and then stabbed her in the heart. Fred didn’t poof into dust like he would if she’d staked him; she just had to sit here, curled against the wall, trying desperately to organise the muddled thoughts in her already muddled mind into something that made even the vaguest bit of sense.

“Saved me,” she whispered, but she wasn’t talking to Angel – she couldn’t talk to him. He wasn’t her Angel and he didn’t care about her and even the vampire who’d tried to make her dinner was less scary that he was, and that was saying something. Instead, Fred had turned to the plant, one hand stroking its leaves, the other still gripping the pot it was in so tightly her knuckles were white. She liked plants; she thought this was a clematis, scrambling up the wall of the house, higher and higher, until it reached the sky. Not like the metaphorical beanstalk, though; you couldn’t climb it, and even if you did, there was no land at the top with chickens that laid golden eggs and giants. Maybe giants would be better; they might squish you underfoot, but they had to catch you first—they weren’t like someone you knew, hurting you in every way except the physical. No, plants were good. They were solid, they made sense; they didn’t suddenly change, and you were left to figure out what had happened. They did the same thing, day after day, year after year, and they never, ever changed. “Saved me from the monsters. There was a girl and she was made a slave and they did horrible things to her until she escaped, but then the champion came and saved her from the monsters and took her back to her world where they didn’t live happily ever after ‘cause no-one ever does.” Fred was beginning to believe that there was no such thing as a happy ending; sure, things might get better for a while, and you might be lulled into a full sense of security, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you might be able to be happy for a little while, but then something else would come along and you’d realise that any good things in life had just been an illusion. “I think the champion’s turned into the monster.” It couldn’t be true. He had a heart; she knew Angel had a heart. Fred had seen it – not literally seen it, because that would have been gross, but she knew it was there. But if he had a heart, he wouldn’t be this...this dark. If he was good now, Fred couldn’t see it. She turned her head, directing her gaze at about his knees, wiping her eyes again with her sleeve. “Angel,” she said clearly, her voice wavering slightly; if he was the monster, saying this wouldn’t do any good, “I want to go home.”

[SPIKE]

Spike gritted his teeth at the angle Angel twisted his arm at. It was painful and if the physical pain was not enough, it even more disquieting that he had given Angel the advantage to do it. The move was thoughtless and Spike knew Angel well enough to have been able to predict what the outcome was going to be long before he attempted it. Still, those things didn't cross his mind in the split second that it took to attempt to get the vampire away from him. The options were limited as it was. Angel had caught him off guard when he appeared to interrupt his dinner, so needless to say Spike wasn't in the mindset to be defending himself against any other vampires, especially not the brooding hero. "Actually, I was going to say the part where you don't know how to mind your own business." Though, as self-important as he thought Angel considered himself to be then he probably thought it was his business to get involved and save the girl. The problem was that he already managed to save the young woman and this was still going on. Couldn't he save her and whisk her off to safety somewhere? Not that Spike wouldn't mind having Angel's face to throw a fist through. Spike was more intent on finding something to eat and figuring out how he ended up there. And the previous had a damper severely placed on it and he wasn't even thinking of eating. The annoyance, however, didn't disappear.

"You know what I'm talking about, Spike. How did you attack without your chip firing off? How did you disable it?"

"My what? You've completely lost it, haven't you?" Angel was wrong. Dead wrong. Spike didn't have the tiniest inkling on what he was talking about. There was no chip to disable. Spike couldn't even gather what that entailed. "I didn't disable anything, you sack of hammers. If you think I've got a sodding clue what you're talking about, you're out of your gourd." Now, Spike had no qualms with lying to Angel. It didn't bother him in the slightest and if it was a good idea to lie to him, then he would. The vampire didn't care and he acted to preserve himself. But, in this case, he really didn't know what he was asking. The question wasn't only random, but it made no sense. He had always been able to attack humans without anything happening because of it. He might not have attacked anyone that night specifically (Fred would have been the first), but he had been successfully killing prior to that night. The only thing that stopped him was Angel. And while not surprising if Angel happened to be in the area, it was how he acted that threw Spike off. This shift in the way he acted was such that he never came across. Did Angel really need more sides to himself? The hero and the evil bastard that was Angelus was more than enough. He was different and it happened in such a short span of time. Not a week ago, he was his normal self; impaled and tortured maybe but not so without care, especially to someone that needed him.

“Sure, you only tried to eat me,”

He was a vampire. It was what he did! Angel might have forgotten that once he achieved that ridiculous soul of his, but Spike hadn't. "It's nothing personal, luv. It wasn't like there were any other options walking around." And had there been, Spike couldn't safely say that Fred wouldn't have still been top on his list. She very well could have been. And sure, killing someone would normally be the bigger offence, but Angel had to be affecting her on a more personal level. Spike's attack wasn't about being personal. He needed blood, she happened to have it and that was that. At this point, the peroxide blonde was becoming more and more annoyed with the tightening grip on his neck. Uncomfortable, he cleared his throat, and tried to pull his neck from Angel's grip, but it was a weak attempt. He knew if he wanted to get away, he was going to have to do more than pulling and elbowing. Spike took time to think of ways to do it while Angel and that girl talked again. Between the two of them, he didn't know who to believe. Angel was convincingly cold and callous about not knowing her, but the girl's fear and desperation for him to remember her was hard to fake. Especially when her fear could probably be sensed halfway down the block it was so intense. Something was screwed up with Angel. Not with the girl and not with him.

And according to Angel, it was that he didn't have a heart. Far be it for him to deny that. Perhaps that was where Spike was becoming so mixed up. It wasn't soulless behaviour, but something different. Heartless might have been the right word. Spike didn't claim to be an expert on souls and hearts. He was a vampire and didn't have a soul of his own (nor did he ever want to have one), but a heart—Spike had that. It might not beat and it might be as dead as the rest of his body, but he knew love and he knew what it meant to care. Sure, he cared about things like killing, chaos, destruction and and he might have loved a woman as evil as she was crazy, but the point was that he could have all of that without having a human conscience. So, surely, if that was possible for the soulless, wasn't it possible for the ensouled to lose that? Even if that was it, something had to set it in motion. There was no guessing what it could have been and even as Spike contemplated the difference, he realized very quickly that he didn't care. Angel could have a soul, he could lose it or he could be batshit crazy for all he cared. None of it mattered to him. He was curious at first, but that curiosity was turning into boredom when answers didn't come and his position became more and more uncomfortable. It was time to end it. Now, if only there were a nice solid way to do that.

The kick was hopeful, but there were doubts invested into that as well. He appeared to have struck a nerve with what he said prior which could only mean that he was hitting it accurately. Spike wasn't at all surprised. His insight wasn't just pulled out of the sky, after all. It was Angel's reaction to having been nailed in the ankle by his boot that left Spike worried for the first time since Angel stopped him. Defiant of his grip before, fear didn't touch the blonde. He had gotten himself out of worse skirmishes and he had done so much worse that Angel hadn't killed him for in the past. The odds of him being dust before the night was over had been slim before. He could have his advantage, but Spike would eventually overcome it. And of all the moves to tell Spike otherwise, it was the release of his neck. Angel wouldn't have done it unless he had something else in mind and Spike would have known if it was a reflexive response to his move before. The "See you in hell," was a nice big warning too. As soon as Angel's hand touched his back, the soulless vamp forgot all about the pain in his arm or his inability to free himself like he wanted. There was one thought on his mind and that was to survive. Spike was no idiot. He was reckless and impulsive but the worst assumption ever made was that he was stupid. The bastard was going to stake him and there was no way in hell that he was going to wind up killed so easily, and by Angel of everyone that it could be. So, desperate not to be a big pile of dust in this unknown place, Spike struggled. The struggle wasn't to be released, because he knew it wouldn't be fast enough to avoid the stake. He had a fraction of a second to move. He cared very little about his arm all of a sudden and fought through any pain to wrestle his way out of the stake's aim. It was when the stake pierced that he stopped with an exclamation of pain through clenched teeth.

Scared was much too strong of a word. Spike was worried and that was as far as it extended. Spike half expected that it wasn't enough and he was going to be reduced to dust right there. But he didn't... It missed. Spike let out a reflexive breath, "Son of a bitch..." He knew that the girl—Fred had been talking with Angel again or about him. Spike wasn't paying enough attention and with the adrenaline from almost getting himself killed and his free throat, Spike flung himself back, closer to Angel and attempted to slam the back of his head into Angel's. If it worked, it'd probably be painful for the two of them, but hopefully fast and hard enough to give him room to finally get away. Spike wasn't willing to see what happened if he tried to stake him a second time. "Sorry, mate. No Hell this time."

[ANGELUS]

There were many ways in which the curse bestowed upon him had affected the vampire that had once terrorized Europe under the name of Angelus. To those that knew the smallest of details about vampires and their lack of soul, the implications of the curse could seem basic and obvious: the soul would bring the conscience back and he would feel remorse over the numerous crimes he had committed. The conscience would also be enough to stop him from hurting and killing humans in the future. It was not that simple, though. Not when the vampire having a soul forced back in had spent more than one century making an art out of torture and murder. It was part of the nature of a vampire: the pleasure to sense fear, the indifference towards it, a certain need to inflict pain on humans. The soul didn't simple wipe those away, no. They remained with him and Angel constantly had to suppress his instincts, his primal urges, even more so when he was pulled off the streets and his time was spent more and more among humans. He'd been killing demons and vampires for years now and, at first sight, it would have seemed that this was his way of following the violent instincts. But it really wasn't. He tried to make the kills as fast as possible, to make use of only the violence which was necessary to ensure his safety and the safety of his team before the killing blow would be delivered. Angel held back, he always did. He knew that if he wouldn't, that if he followed his primal need for violence, he would start down a path from which it would be hard to return.

It proved that he had been right, he'd already begun walking that darker path the moment in which he locked the doors to that cellar and decided that he would declare war to evil. Since that moment, holding back no longer seemed necessary and it was the same tonight. It didn't matter that he knew Spike or that the girl which he had saved was still there, seeing it all. Angel didn't just want to stake the peroxided vampire and walk away. His rage had been fueled by the evil law firm to the point in which it its flames consumed everything that Angel used to be, before leaving on a trail of destruction towards everything that would cross their path, like Spike had the misfortune to. Angel wanted to hurt him, to make him feel as much pain as possible before the moment in which the stake would finally pierce his flesh and run through his heart, ending his unlife. A belated vendetta for all of the miseries Spike had made him go through, for the hot pokers and every little ray of sun which he had been burnt by when the peroxided wonder had wanted to get the Gem of Amarra back. Oddly, Angel regretted the fact that he only got to see the back of his head, that he couldn't see his face possibly cringing with pain. "Killing vampires is my business, Spike."

And here came the denial about his chip having been tempered with. Angel had expected Spike to play the innocent but he hadn't really imagined that Billy Idol's follower would go as far with his act as to pretend that there had been no chip to begin with. Did he really think that it would work? "I haven't lost anything, Spike. It looks like you've lost something though: a piece of plastic in your brain." There was something darker than sarcasm in his voice. "Gee, Spike, let me refresh your memory then", he warned before his grip on both his neck and arm tightened. "I'm talking about the chip that a military organization planted in your brain to stop you from killing humans. You know, the one which made you a nice ornament in Giles' living room for Thanksgiving, all useless and tied up to a chair." Hadn't he learned that he'd been there? Angel would have thought he had. Buffy had found out, she had even – No, he wouldn't think about that now... or ever again. If the one person who was not supposed to know had been told of his presence, what wasn't to say that the poor chair accessory hadn't overheard?

" You do know me. I'm Fred."

Fred. The name said nothing to Angel – nothing other than the fact that it was a strangely masculine name for a girl. Specially for one which looked so physically and emotionally frail like she did. With a name so unique, Angel was positive that he would have remembered having met her before, had he been willing to admit that he might have forgotten a face. "I don't know any Fred." There was no trace of doubt in his voice. It was a thing which he was absolutely certain of: the girl was an absolute stranger to him. Or... wasn't she? What was going on? How was it possible that an absolute stranger would get to him like that? Angel couldn't understand what was going on or why he was beginning to think this way but it was almost as if the more she spoke, the more he felt something, a certain connection to her, a certain pull to tell her that it would all be fine and that he would protect her. This couldn't be right. How could he feel that towards her when, at the same time, he felt so empty, so devoid of any emotion? When everything he wanted to feel towards a human again was hatred? When he wanted to release the beast he had once been and return to his true nature? It should have been impossible to feel both at the same time, yet it was happening. Then again, it should have also been impossible to walk through the door of your hotel and enter a new dimension, or travel to the past – whichever of the two had happened.

Angel had staked too many vampires to be too impressed by adding another one to the count, even if it was none other than Spike. It was all part of the routine. He knew where to aim, how deep to push and how fast, so as to turn what looked to many like an ordinary human being into a pile of dust. Even if Spike was who he was and had done all the things he'd done, Angel wasn't planning to make something special out of the moment. In a few seconds, captain peroxide would crumble to dust. The only thing Angel felt was regret that he'd let Spike annoy him much too quickly. He should have drawn it out more, he should have thought Spike a better lesson about fear and pain before ending it. It was too late now. Fred's voice caught Angel's undivided attention only moments after the stake pierced Spike's chest. Dark eyes focused on her, narrowing down suspiciously at the beginning. Her story made so little sense... Hardly anything she said did. Slaves? Monsters? Was he the champion in her odd story? If he was, then...

"I think the champion’s turned into the monster."

For the first time that night, he could not conceal a very human emotion: hurt. Those words were like a stake piercing through his heart. Angel no longer wanted to be a champion; to quiet the remorse and the feeling of uselessness, he was ready to surrender to the monster inside, to being it out, where it had always belonged. Fred's observation... had he turned into a monster even without Angelus returning? Was he a monster with a soul now? What if Fred was right? What if he had known her? Hadn't he went as far as to erase an entire day out of Buffy's life, as if it had never existed? Someone else could have erased days out of his own, days in which he knew Fred and he'd been her champion? "Fred..." Without trying to in the slightest, his tone was warmer, slightly hesitant. "I..."

Before Angel could get another word out, he was stopped, and not by his own uncertainty about what he could say to something like this. He'd been distracted, so distracted by the girl that he hadn't even realized that one of his hands was still loosely holding the stake, while the other still gripped solid flesh and bones. Angel had only noticed that Spike had not crumbled into a pile of dust under his hold when the back of his peroxided head connected painfully with his face. Taken by surprise, he lost his hold on Spike, having lifted his hands reflexively to hold his head while his vision would clear. Superior endurance to pain still faltered against such moves. Angel only allowed himself a couple of seconds to let his head clear before he growled deeply. His features changed, revealing his vampire face and he rushed at Spike again, this trying to grab him by the throat from the front, wishing to slam him back against the building if his move would succeed. "You're going to pay for that," he growled, aiming a punch at his chest – the spot which was bound to hurt the most at the moment.

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

Fred didn’t understand why Angel hadn’t killed the other vampire already. Wasn’t that what he did? Even if he was being weird (which he most certainly was), she didn’t think that his MO would change so drastically; Angel killed the bad guys. And this one had tried to eat her; even if Angel didn’t know who she was, Fred was still an innocent victim. And to be honest, she’d have felt a lot happier about this whole situation if there wasn’t somebody who’d tried to make her into dinner around—not that being here alone with Angel seemed a better alternative. At least Spike had tried to defend her, which was something else Fred didn’t understand; switching from trying to stick his fangs in her neck to taking her side against Angel was a little odd. However, it seemed like today was just one of those days where nothing made sense to her; it would have been easier if she’d been able to hide in her own little world, instead of being terrified out of her mind, but Fred guessed you couldn’t have everything. Sometimes, though, she wondered if she could have anything at all; the world seemed to be designed to rip her away from the things that she wanted to keep hold of most, and Fred didn’t know if she was ever going to be able to be a normal, if slightly crazier than average, girl again. Pylea had changed her, and she hadn’t yet reconciled herself with those changes, but she had been getting there. She’d almost been able to come out of her room without scurrying back if someone spotted her, and she was no longer asking about Angel every hour. But she’d seen the difference, and even if it was simply the fact that she was clean and had real clothes and food, and could sleep in a bed, it was something. But, yet again, that had been ripped away from her. Fred hadn’t been in this place long enough to know if she could shower or have the food that she liked or sleep somewhere other than a cave, but it wasn’t her world; by that very definition, it was a bad thing. Bad things always seemed to happen to her; Fred didn’t know why that was.

Take this situation, for example; she didn’t think that it could get any worse. Okay, so maybe Spike could have eaten her, instead of being pulled away at the last moment, but barring that, Fred was pretty sure that if there was a rock bottom, she’d hit it about ten minutes ago. Maybe she’d gone past it now; maybe this was hell. She’d thought that Pylea had been hell, but having the one person she trusted above all others not even know who she was? That was a far more personal kind of horror than just being sucked through a portal and being mistreated because of her species. For years, Fred had had nobody but herself, and she’d become used to her own company, but she liked having friends. Even if she didn’t actually spend time with them, and was only happy talking to them through the solid comfort of her door, Fred liked knowing they were there; now they were gone, back through the invisible portal that had brought her here (and if portals were invisible now, that made everything worse; they could spring up anywhere and drag you away, without the need for long words with no consonants in them), and Angel was the only person she knew. It was supposed to be a good thing, seeing him here, but Fred was beginning to feel that she might have been better off if she’d just been on her own. She’d done it before; she was pretty sure that she could survive in a world that she’d been in twenty-four hours (give or take) and hadn’t yet been carted off to be a slave—she’d even had something of a conversation with someone, who’d been just as confused by his presence here as she was. She could have survived on her own, she was sure; Fred might have been curled up in a ball in some dark corner, panicking, but wasn’t she doing that right now anyway? Why was this supposed to be better? It was worse, because it wasn’t just some vampire threatening her, it was Angel.

"I don't know any Fred."

He was right, the blonde vampire; Fred knew that he was only doing what was in his nature. It was far more unusual to know vampires like Angel, who didn’t want to pounce upon any living creature, and yet, it was Angel, the man who’d saved her yet again, that Fred’s attention was directed towards. Spike was...well, Fred was pretty sure that she wouldn’t be befriending him any time soon. The fact that he was telling Angel things she wished she was brave enough to say to him was irrelevant; Spike was evil. An evil vampire who’d almost killed her, and she definitely couldn’t be thinking about how she kind of wished he’d save her now, as Fred almost thought that evil Spike was the lesser of the two evils here. Metaphorical evils; she didn’t think Angel was evil-evil, at least not of the soulless variety, but he was infinitely scarier than Spike. But no, she wasn’t thinking that; all Fred wanted was for Angel to be normal, and to go home. She’d even settle for one or the other, although she would definitely have preferred both to happen. She did know that when she got home (if she got home—no, no, she would get home; she had to), she wasn’t going to be coming out of her room for a very long time, but right now, Fred couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think of much beyond this situation—and the fact that she was cold. She didn’t exactly have a coat to put on, and it was the middle of the night. Even that was kind of unimportant, though; Fred would have been cold forever if it meant she could have an Angel around who comforted her rather than made her cower in a corner. “It’s me,” she said quietly, desperate for him to have some faint hint of recognition. “I’m Fred.”

"Fred...I..."

At her name, Fred’s head snapped up, looking at Angel properly for the first time since he’d made her cower against a plant pot. “Angel,” she said, almost hopeful; he wasn’t right, and she was still terrified of him, but he’d used her name, whereas before, he’d been denying that he knew her. And it might have been wishful thinking on her part, wanting him to stop being the intimidating person he was when he was fighting some big bad – like Spike – and instead be the Angel that she knew, but Fred thought that for a moment, his tone had been warmer. Not right, sure, but something was better than nothing; Fred wanted him to be himself again. She had no idea what had happened here, or why he was suddenly proclaiming he didn’t know her, and not even in a friendly, oh-I’ve-just-lost-my-memory manner, but she waited for what he was about to say, almost desperate for him to reassure her. After how much he’d scared her – and fear was still rolling off her in waves – Fred thought that it was the least he could do. She’d never been scared of Angel before, and it wasn’t a feeling she much liked; if he was finally recognising her, the fear that she had of him might disappear, leaving her only with her fear of this strange alternate dimension. She thought that was probably dealable with; after all, she’d survived another strange world. In comparison to Pylea, this one didn’t seem too strange—or maybe thus far, she’d only met with people from worlds like her own. Sure, there was the surrounding paranoia that sprung from not being at home, again, and the fact that the very idea of alternate dimensions and portals sucking her away again had been enough to keep her awake, but part of that was because Fred hadn’t wanted to lose her friends. If Angel was here, well...it might make it easier. It wouldn’t make everything right, because this place clearly messed with people’s minds, and he was still not quite right, she knew that (though if it was in the same way that she was not quite right, maybe that was okay), but he’d get them home. Angel always knew what to do, even when it seemed like they were out of options.

But he didn’t say anything more; Angel didn’t tell Fred that he remembered her now, or that he was sorry, or even that he was going to work out how to fix this. The longer she waited for him to answer, the more sure she was becoming that actually, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about her or her feelings, or the fact that he was breaking her heart just by looking at her blankly, or the fact that he was pretty much the most intimidating person she knew right now (and that was including the vampire who was actually supposed to be evil), or that they were in some strange alternate dimension with no way home. Fred knew; she’d tried everything she could think of to get herself out of here. The hope that had been there a moment ago faded suddenly, as Angel was, yet again, distracted by Spike. Why wasn’t he killing him? Wasn’t that what Angel did, kill vampires who tried to eat people? But then, Fred thought that Angel also cared about her, and would protect her, and apparently she’d been wrong about that. Her whole world had been turned upside down today; she had no idea what to expect anymore. “Don’t be a monster,” she said quietly, preferring to share her fears with the plant rather than Angel himself. “If the champion’s a monster, then who’s gonna help the helpless?” She had turned away from him now, curled up as small as she could get; after everything that had happened, it wouldn’t surprise her to learn that Angel was really the monster here, not Spike. At least the blonde vampire was acting according to his nature; Angel was just being...cruel. She’d had a brief moment of hope, and like that relief she’d had when she’d first seen him, he’d crushed it beneath his foot like it meant nothing—like she meant nothing. Maybe to him, she didn’t.

[SPIKE]

Spike didn't care; he didn't care if Angel thought that it was his business to kill vampires. In fact, he didn't think of it as the truth either. Angel took it upon himself to make every vampire that came within a several metres of him dust, but it wasn't his duty or responsibility. Spike couldn't have cared less about his heroic puppy dog act or how he felt he needed to make up for all the people he killed back in his bad ass glory days. Soul or not, the brunette was still a vampire. He had fangs like the rest of them, had to hide from the sun just the same as he did, and holy relics still managed to burn on contact. The soul didn't change that, except that it seemed to give him the idea that he was supposed to kill other vamps. Now, to be fair, Spike didn't actually care who Angel decided to kill, as long as it wasn't him. He wasn't trying to stand up for other members of the undead club. They were just additional pieces to his list of things that he didn't care about. It was Angel's self-righteous behaviour that frustrated him. There was only one person (technically two) that actually had any rhyme or reason to make it their business to kill vampires and that was the slayer. She was the chosen one, not tall dark and broody. Since he was anti-killing-humans, Spike assumed that killing vampires was probably the next best thing. Maybe it was some kind of guilt-free kill. The peroxided vampire didn't claim to know anything about what it was like to have a soul (and never wanted to), but he was sure the violent impulses weren't dead. Angel had his reasons, reasons that Spike wasn't about to analyse further. All that he wanted was to be released from his painful hold. The sooner, the better. Unfortunately, it didn't look like he was going to oblige in him any time soon.

Instead, he was given another expansion on what Angel was talking about—only this time, he sounded even more brain-addled than before. "Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath. Was gripping him tighter really all that necessary? Spike was grateful that he wasn't turned to face him, because showing any amount of pain in front of the older vampire was something that he would rather avoid at all costs, especially if he was the one causing the physical discomfort. Caught up in his little tale, Spike wondered where the hell he was pulling that story from. "Oh, right, thatchip," Spike replied, as if he was remembering, but the tone of his voice quickly changed into a sarcastic, frustrated one instead. "Was this before or after you lost your bleeding mind?" He demanded, letting him know again (in case he forgot) that Spike thought he was crazy. "I don't know what movie-of-the-week you picked that up from, but one, there's no government chip implanted in my brain and two, I've never been in Giles' living room, let alone tied to a chair. I'd rather not know what the hell you've been dreaming about, but you're off your rocker, mate. 'Sides, if I've been so useless, why weren't you mentioning it when I stopped by for the ring? Did all that torture jumble your brain?" It didn't make any sense at all to him. Angel seemed to think he was a threat a week ago, but now, he was asking about how he managed to remove some chip that he hadn't even heard of. He wasn't even in Sunnydale during the previous Thanksgiving, and it was still a couple weeks away yet as far as he knew. And even if anything ever did happen to him, the blonde vampire didn't see himself crawling up to Giles' doorstep asking for help. To hell with that.

It sounded like the worst idea anyone could have made up. Only second to having to stand here, unable to break out of Angel's grasp while he talked back and forth with the frightened girl. He didn't understand what was going on there. It was easy to tell what the female thought. But, Angel had him completely perplexed and he decided not to dwell on whether or not the vampire with a soul actually knew her and was just playing otherwise or this was one strange misunderstanding. If Spike could get away, then it wouldn't be his problem anymore. His sympathies went out to Fred, because she deserved a lot of credit for sticking around to deal with the way Angel was behaving. Spike had no idea where he was going to go if he managed to break loose. Actually, he'd like to pound his fists against the taller vampire's face a couple of times before taking off into the night. But after that, he'd be back on the same path he was on before. He still had no clue where he was or why. He would probably walk around for hours until he figured it out. Or at least as long as he could. It seemed awfully late, which meant that the sun would probably rise eventually and Spike would rather not be exposed to it when it happened. But, where he was going to find shelter, he didn't have a clue. Right now, his bigger worries were of actually getting away from Angel. He never had his chance when Angel addressed Fred, or when the girl spoke up... Was she even talking to Angel? None of it was going to matter, however. Not when Spike made his move.

The pride of success swept through him when he felt his head smash against Angel's. Of course, pain also pounded in his skull, but he was able to live with that, because it was better than being dust. "Show's you, you git." His success was short-lived, however, and Spike felt the hand on his throat again before he was shoved back against a wall. And there they went again! Couldn't he accept when he got away fairly? Apparently it didn't work that way, and Spike grunted as his back hit the building. That pain didn't even compare, however, to the fist that connected with his chest. Unable to hold that back, he let out a quick yell of pain, followed by curse as he cringed. "You staked me. If you ask me, you completely deserved that." He retorted, and because his hand was on his throat from the front, he reached his own up and grabbed Angel's wrist tightly and tried to pull it from his neck. Fred might not have known it, but her plea for Angel not to be a monster gave Spike more ammunition. He was in no position to mock him, especially not to laugh, which, despite the hand on his throat actually emitted in a quiet chuckle. "But, you've always been a monster, haven't you? Just couldn't keep it caged any longer, could you?" Situations like this, where Spike had already been staked once probably didn't warrant him to be trying to push Angel's buttons. It was one of those times where silence would have suited him better. He didn't care to differentiate between those times and proper ones to jab at the vampire with a soul. Nothing was going to quiet him. Not Angel's threats, or his near success in killing him.