pulled down by the undertow ;; open

[ANGELUS]

Spike's cursing was a good clue that Angel was really getting through to him. He'd known the other vampire for a while and he had a fair idea of his personality. Excessive pride was among his great flaws. That was the kind of character treat that made it hard for Angel to imagine Spike being too quick at showing weakness in front of his rivals, specially when the rival happened to be him. The older vampire was no fool, he knew exactly just how much Spike loathed him. It wasn't that he lacked the reasons to, Angelus had kindly offered him more than enough of those to last him for the entire eternity, should the both of them last that much and still have the mood to make each other's existence spicier with the occasional torture for one reason or another. No, Spike really wouldn't show any signs of pain in front of him, not unless it really was getting unbearable even to him. As useless as Angel would have thought torturing a vampire to be, at this very moment he just wanted to relish in every moment of it, he wanted to push it as far as he could, acting upon every urge that had been suppressed for long, long years for nothing.

"Oh, right, that chip,"

Angel didn't build his hopes up – it was not something he would have ever done, anyway. Just because for a moment Spike sounded like he was finally going to admit to what he had done, didn't necessarily mean that the next second he wouldn't turn around and play the innocent again. Seconds later, the theory was confirmed and Angel glared at the back of Spike's peroxide head, listening to the little show which he was putting on. What more proof that he was out of his mind? There was no way that was in which that was going to work with him. Ever. If he thought otherwise, then maybe he didn't know him as well as he should have by now. "I think the only one that lost his bleeding mind here is you, Spike", Angel answered, mocking the other vampire's accent as he stressed on that particular word. "Did they forget to tell you that I was there that night? I saw you", he added with another squeeze of Spike's throat, as if inflicting more violence would somehow serve as a stimullent for the blond's feigned memory loss. A dark chuckle left Angel's lips. "You know, karma has an odd way of working. One week you're in LA, torturing me to get the Gem of Amarra and be impervious, the other you're all neutered, begging for help from Buffy and her friends. Oh, I think I really love what karma did to you, Spike." Angel had to admit to himself that no matter how much he would have thought, he would have been far from coming up with such a perfect revenge against Spike. Of course, at the time when Spike had left LA in shame, Angel was a different vampire. Doyle was still there to guide him on the right path and he was still believing in the mission. The mission was nothing more than an empty word now.

“It’s me. I’m Fred.”

The girl's insistence was beginning to get on Angel's nerves and patience was not his strongest virtue, not tonight. One of them was clearly under the influence of some spell, or she was just someone sent by the forces of evil to distract him and toy with his mind in some way which implied a game of "Please, remember me". For a brief moment, Angel even wondered if this wasn't just some incarnation of The First evil, trying to push him closer to surrender. That would have explained it had Angel not been absolutely convinced that this girl taking shelter by that plant pot, looking horrified of him, was not one of his past victims. Those, he could perfectly remember. Each and every face had came back to haunt him at one point or another, some more often than others. He would have instantly recognized her had she been among the lives he took. What's more, the girl was real, not just an illusion meant to drive him insane. She was a flesh and bone human being which looked like... like she was being driven insane by him. The way in which she was taking shelter by that plant pot, the fear that rolled off her. God, that scent of fear... Already Angel was submitting to dark urges, to primal needs. Torturing Spike was just a beginning. He knew that it was just a first step before sinking deeper, before he would grant himself more needs which had been denied for so long. Feeding off humans was one of them. The scent of fear could only make Angel think of it, even if it might have been too soon. Such a long time had passed since he'd sunk his fangs into someone who was so afraid of him, which gazed at him with horror filled eyes... No! He wouldn't go there, he wouldn't sink so deep just yet, not until he would be perfectly sure that he would have no remorse about it later. He would not sink so low as to drain a girl which he'd just saved from Spike. As much as he wanted to abandon all that tied him to humanity, even mustering those thoughts made Angel feel guilty.

Angel didn't miss the hopeful look on Fred's face when he finally softened a bit. It was Spike's hit that distracted him before he could do more, before he could... act upon the unexplained urge to crouch next to her and comfort her, calm her down and assure her that things would be fine and that he would find a way out. The other vampire's scream of pain was a welcoming distraction from those thoughts, bringing Angel's darker impulses back into focus. "If you asked me, you completely deserved being staked. About time someone did it, William." Despite Spike's grip on his wrist, Angel leaned more of his weight against his neck. Oh, he wasn't a fool. He wasn't trying to choke Spike, because he knew that this was impossible. Vampires didn't need to breathe, chocking was useless when it came to them. But vampires still felt great pain when their necks were snapped. It was a better punishment than dusting them. It rendered them useless for days, unable to move, in great pain. Now that was a position he would have liked to see Spike in. Fred's voice caught Angel's attention again and he turned to look at her, his gaze troubled. "I'm not a monster", he defended himself, reflexively, his brows furrowing when he realized the lie behind that statement. Taking every single thought he had that night, was he not one? "There are no helpless..." For the first time that night, he was voicing the painful realization to which Holland Manners had lead him. Whatever doubts Angel might have had, whatever moment of faltering, he was pulled out of that state by Spike. Turning to him, the older vampire glared darkly, attempting to pull Spike, only to him to slam him hard back into the wall. "Shut up, Spike", he growled, once again losing his patience. It was one thing thinking it himself, but hearing it from Spike... With a quick move, the mechanism that held a stake down his other sleeve was triggered and Angel tried to thrust it into Spike's chest, purposely avoiding the heart this time around, just to earn himself some time. Pulling away from the vampire, Angel rushed by the girl's side and crouched down to her level, his brown eyes trying to catch her gaze. "I'm not your champion", he started in a warmer tone, "but I'm not a monster either. I'm not going to hurt you", he assured her in an attempt to calm her down.

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

Fred knew what fear was. She knew what it was like to wake up every day and wish as hard as you could that life was just some nightmare, and one day you’d awaken from it and you’d be back in a world you thought was fantasy with a life that didn’t feel like yours anymore. She knew what it was like to have to hide, because if you got caught, your neck would be on a block—and you couldn’t always guarantee that your executioner would whisk you up and save you instead. But it was situations that scared Fred, or ideas; she spent so much time hiding because the world was a loud, bright, terrifying place, and she was used to living in a cave. She felt safer with walls around her, because nothing else could get in. People didn’t scare her, although that had something to do with the fact that she simply didn’t talk to them. She’d have something of a conversation through her door, when someone brought her something to eat or wanted to check that she hadn’t died in her sleep, and she liked everyone at Angel Investigations well enough, but they were good people. Angel was good people—uh, a good person. Until now, she’d believed that fully, and she would have trusted him with absolutely anything; she’d already put her life, her hope, and her future in his hands, after all, not to mention her sanity. The latter he’d pretty much crumbled away, and her future had disappeared the moment she’d realised she was in another alternate dimension, and he’d destroyed her hope, so the only thing that Fred really had left was her life. Between scary Angel and the normal, evil vampire, Fred didn’t know how much longer she’d have that, either. She wanted to cling to him, wrap her arms around his middle and cry into his chest until he told her that it would all be okay...but Fred didn’t think it would be okay. Fear like this didn’t just go away, not when it was a person causing it. It lingered and seeped into your skin, until you were a cowering, quivering mess, and you couldn’t quite look them in the eye again. Fred was already that, curled up against this wall; how much further could he make her go before he realised that he was killing her?

"There are no helpless...I'm not your champion, but I'm not a monster either. I'm not going to hurt you"

Angel was the one person in this world that Fred was supposed to be able to know wasn’t a monster; he was the champion, fighting for people who didn’t always deserved to be saved, just because they were human and couldn’t fight for themselves. He knew how to fix everything, and sure, he’d been gone for a couple of months now, but him being back – even back in this strange place – was meant to be a good thing. It was supposed to mean that he had cut short his trip to come and save her, that he cared enough about Fred to make sure she wasn’t stuck in some alternate dimension again...but apparently, that wasn’t what this meant. His trip had screwed with his memory, changing it so he didn’t have a clue who she was and therefore no real desire to help her, and it had made him evil and uncaring and Fred didn’t like it one bit! She wanted Angel back, the proper Angel, who helped people regardless of who they were, instead of terrorising his friends. Maybe...maybe Fred wasn’t Angel’s friend, then. She wouldn’t know; he’d left almost as soon as they’d gotten back from Pylea, only spending a few moments with her, and he hadn’t come back yet. That probably wasn’t enough to constitute a friendship, even if he had saved her life and been her knight in shining, fanged armour. Maybe he really didn’t care about her, but even if that was the case, he’d still remember who she was. Angel didn’t forget people; he’d been alive for centuries, but Fred would have bet anything that he remembered people from way back in the olden days. Had she made that bet already, and gotten it wrong?

Was that why she was here? Fred doubted it; she didn’t come out of her room for long enough to make any kind of deal with the devil, and besides, she wasn’t the gambling type. If it couldn’t be predicted mathematically, Fred didn’t want to know; she wouldn’t waste her money like that—or her safety. Apparently somewhere along the line, she’d lost that, though. She didn’t feel safe at all, even though she was supposed to now that Angel was here. This world was so, so messed up. Angel was a monster, whatever he said differently, and he knew the vampire who’d tried to kill her even though they were all in a different dimension, and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to move again, even though the plant pot was beginning to dig into her side. “There’s always someone who’s helpless,” she said quietly, curling up even tighter, if that was possible, despite the pain in her side. In this instance, it was her. If Angel didn’t believe that then...he wasn’t Angel, and she was even more confused and scared than Fred would have believed possible. She couldn’t believe that she was thinking this, because having him here should have filled her with relief, but Fred thought she had been better off when he hadn’t been here. At least then, her hope had been intact. Now she didn’t have any left, he’d stamped so hard on it.

Why was it that the other vampire – the one who was evil and had tried to eat her, nonetheless – seemed to be the one who was talking sense? Spike was the one that Fred knew she couldn’t trust—but she almost liked him more than Angel at the moment. At least he’d only been acting on his nature, and had kind of apologised, since he hadn’t managed to make her into dinner. Angel was good. Fred believed this absolutely, but right now, she couldn’t even bear to look at him, it broke her heart so much to do so. She was terrified, and it wasn’t of the vampire that had almost stuck his fangs in her; sure, any other time, that would have been pretty scary. Fred didn’t think becoming a demon’s dinner was something you forgot in a hurry, if you got out of it alive. But that, even if Spike had managed to actually hurt her, was not nearly so traumatic as what was happening with Angel. What was happening with Angel? Fred didn’t understand it, not even a little bit. It was like he’d had both a memory wipe and a personality transplant...so was he even Angel? If a person changed so drastically that they weren’t the person you know anymore, were they still the same person? It would be easier if he wasn’t Angel, but Fred knew he was. He was just...not right. And scary; she couldn’t forget the scary. She didn’t think she’d ever forget being this scared of Angel (of all people, why did it have to be her hero?), even if he suddenly remembered everything and was nice and saved her from all the other monsters of this world. Even if all that happened, she’d still remember him being the monster. She flinched as Angel crouched by her side, tensing, even more scared of him now that he was close; when he was standing up and she was hiding, he could only hurt her with words, destroying her hope and filling her with fear. Now he was this close...maybe he would hurt her physically too. She turned her face away, heart pounding, and wondered how far she could get if she got up and ran—but Fred didn’t think her legs were working any more. “Not my champion,” she corrected, still not looking at him. “The champion. You’re s’posed to be the champion.” Even when things were going to hell (sometimes literally), Angel was the champion. But he seemed to be trying now, even if he wasn’t supposed to try since caring should have been innate, so Fred slowly turned to look at him—or rather, look at a point somewhere past his left shoulder, tears filling her eyes as he told her that he wasn’t going to hurt her. “You already did,” she whispered, barely daring to say the words aloud. It was a promise that he’d broken before he’d even made it.

[SPIKE]

Spike wasn't the one acting unglued. Angel, on the other hand, well he was off in more ways than one. He knew him well, but whether or not Angel was crazy or not didn't honestly concern him. If he dove off the deep end straight into crazy land, the soulless vampire wouldn't give him a second thought. It wasn't his problem as long as he stayed away from him. But, instead, he turned into his problem when he saved that girl—not even then, really. Angel could have saved the girl and while the blonde would've been disappointed and annoyed with him, it wouldn't annoy him half as much as being unable to escape his grip. He could just stalk off and find someone else. If there were other people lurking around the streets. Fred had been a lucky sight, not that he was interested in biting her anymore. The blonde's interest faded with the pain in his arm and Angel's crazy talk about government chips and Giles' living room. "Yeah, 'cause you sound sane as ever," Spike scoffed at his mockery, but put very little effort into a retort. It wasn't as if he had time to focus on it anyway, because the hand squeezed again and he winced, glad that he couldn't see his expressions. Spike had no intention of showing pain around him, but the difficulty kept growing when he couldn't force him to let go. "As flattered as I am that you're seeing me in your delusions—" Spike didn't even finish, because he went on about karma and left the peroxided vampire wondering again what was going on in his head (on second thought, maybe he shouldn't want to know at all). "Have you even been back to Sunnydale since you bolted?" Uncomfortable (and wasn't that an understatement?), he twisted briefly with his shoulder, attempting to break himself free without much exertion at all. Spike tried to figure out what game Angel was trying to play. It didn't make a hell of a lot of sense to make up stories like that. Now, from his angle, it would make a lot of sense to be a story teller about himself. But, it was more than ridiculous to be making up stories about them to the said person. "Because—" Wait, had he called him, neutered? His brow furrowed, "Neutered? Look at yourself, soulboy! And so y'know, when I get back, the only one who's going to be begging is your precious slayer." He growled, putting emphasis because he felt like reminding him that he was going to kill the girl, not beg her. Though, mentioning Buffy in the context of killing never was conducive to making Angel less pissed off. But to repeat an old truth: Spike didn't care. "Anyway, didn't have the time to talk to her yet, let alone beg, you git."

The vampire would have been appreciative if Angel dropped him and went to handle the scared girl. Even if he didn't remember her, that fear had to be affecting him. He was fully aware that he could feel it the same way he did, and wasn't the hero supposed to stop that? Even when he'd lunged at the girl ready to make her into a quick snack he hadn't been met with anything that intense and he knew he wouldn't have been. She wouldn't have had time to be and it wasn't personal. Spike wasn't daft; he knew it had a lot to do with it. She obviously trusted him and if Spike didn't know any better he would have thought it was some kind of torture. Angel always did know how to dish it out best. Torture wasn't anything Spike was heavily interested in. Now, watching Angel get tortured was pretty damn satisfying but even he wasn't going to stand as a witness for hours. It was something he could experience, leave and come back for, because it was amusing as hell. But, even when he had Marcus torture Angel, there was a purpose behind it. He wanted the ring. The blonde vampire didn't have the patience for it, and after a while it kind of lost its thrill. He never had much of a taste for drawing fear out anyway. It was fun in the instant and he relished in it for a couple minutes, but it was the adrenaline from the kill itself or a fight that really piqued Spike's interests. To him, it was excessive. Despite his lack of a soul, even Spike thought that the girl had been put through enough. If Angel just dropped him and left right then, he wouldn't attack. It was an unusual thought and most vampires wouldn't care either way. They would still bite in given half a chance. But, even soullessly, Spike wasn't like every one of them. In some aspects, he was worse, because he was better at what he did. He proclaimed himself a big bad, but when push came to shove, he didn't care which side he was on at the moment, as long as it served what he wanted. And feeling a little bad for the bird wasn't evil, but he didn't have anyone to prove himself to anyway. Hell, maybe he just had a soft spot for crazy sounding scared girls that talked to plants. He never had anything against her to begin with.

"If you asked me, you completely deserved being staked. About time someone did it, William."

"Could say the same for you," he growled and as much as he pitied Fred, he felt a stronger one for himself. It was miserable enough for Angel to have the upperhand, but to find himself unable to actually throw him off—that was worse. As far as he was concerned, he equalled Angel, if not had an edge over him. Despite how in the beginning everything he learned had been from Angelus himself, the vampire thought he could take him now. But, instead of being in a fair fight where he actually managed to take Angel down a few notches, he was stuck with the ensouled sod having all the control. If that wasn't bad enough, he wasn't excelling at hiding the discomfort or pain. But, if Angel were in his place, he was positive he wouldn't be doing any better. The pressure added to his throat forced him to choke out a grunt of pain and not because there was any risk of actual loss of breath (he didn't have any), it was a sound of pain and discomfort. They were both vampires and the two of them knew that his pressure wasn't going to kill him. Not unless he decided to rip his head off, which would actually be more pleasant than the alternative, which was him snapping the bones. Breaking his neck wouldn't kill him, it would hurt like hell and leave him immobile; and that was one hundred times more helpless than he was right now. Not to mention... the pain. Spike wanted to express less of that around Angel, less in general but even less around him. Pure loathing showed up in the younger vampire's gaze, glaring directly at the brunette vampire. Just one wrong move and Spike wanted to take the upperhand and he'd make him pay for the staking. Unfortunately, the upperhand didn't come, instead another stake was thrust into his chest. "Son of a bitch!" All over again. He felt the grip leave though and the vampire leaned his weight against the wall, panting reflexively and wincing as he cursed to himself over it. He didn't even go for the kill that time! His hand pressed against his own chest, not bothering to look at the pair for several seconds before his head lifted again, glaring daggers at Angel. So, he was finally deciding to play hero...

After being staked twice, it was probably a good idea to take off. He might not know where he was headed, but it was probably his best bet. Yet, Spike wasn't thinking in terms of how to get away. His mind was more vindictive than that. Failure had been too consistent in his life lately and he wasn't going to add insult to injury by rushing out of the alley to find somewhere far away from Angel. "You just can't stand it, can you? Never could when I was right." Saying that nothing could shut the vampire up was turning into more of an understatement minute by minute. "You are a monster. Even the girl knows it." If she didn't, she should. And Spike wasn't finished taunting him. Even if he was finally dealing with the poor woman. It was her whisper that resulted in the blonde smirking smugly. It didn't surprise him one bit. Ever since Angel showed up and scared the hell out of her, Spike imagined she was pretty hurt. Especially if she considered him some kind of hero...Her hero. "Looks like you hurt another one, mate. How many's that now? Tell me, is it easier to keep track of the ones you help or hurt?" He wanted to rush at him right there. And he figured he could have done it too. He was crouched down, busy with the girl and it wouldn't have been difficult to just full on attack him. But, for once it was Spike that kept the control. Oh, it wasn't going to last forever. He would pay him back for what he did and soon, but he didn't want to add more on top of the girl's haphazardly stacked plate. And somehow kicking Angel's ass when he was down trying to help her sounded like the best way to upset the situation further, so he settled for taunting from the safety of the building wall.

[ANGELUS]

Angel didn't really fight the urge to roll his eyes at Spike's unwanted and as unwelcome as always sarcasm – it was not like the vampire could see him anyway, whereas his almost victim, she was too busy hiding and being scared to probably pay attention to details like that. "I appreciate the concern Spike, but out of the two of us, I am the perfectly sane one." A mock thoughtful look played on his expression for a few moments, his eyes sizing Spike up. "Not something you will ever be able to brag with, William, by the looks of the show you're putting up now." Angel decided that whatever the government organization did to Spike, it had undoubtedly damaged his brain. While he wasn't an expert in biology, he knew enough about it to be aware of the fact that any intervention on the brain could lead to permanent damage of one type or another if it wasn't done it extreme caution and by highly trained people. The government might have hired the best people to ornate Spike's brain with that piece of metal - or plastic or whatever electrocuting microchips were made of – but it was the "extreme caution" side of things which Angel wasn't convinced that they would care for too much, not when their concern was ridding the world of a vampire. Angel knew he wouldn't have shown too much care, even if a scenario in which he would only incapacitate a vampire instead of going for the kill seemed so unlikely – both before this night and even more from this night on. Spike's comment managed to trigger another annoyed roll of his eyes, along with a tighter grip on his neck and arm. As tempting as it would have been to think of something to come back with on the matter of the delusions, Angel decided to only focus on the next comment. ”What part of “I was in Sunnydale on Thanksgiving” is so hard to grasp, Spike?” If he wanted it to be spelled out for him, he was out of luck, because Angel lacked the patience to play along.

Was Spike actually daring to compare their situations? ”Hardly similar, chipbrain”, he replied, his tone dark and hateful. Spike couldn't even try to hurt a human being without feeling a great deal of physical pain. Angel wasn't sure of the exact mechanics of the chip but he wouldn't have been surprised if the result of actually managing to hurt a human would result in the vampire's death. Maybe frying their brain was some new unconventional way of killing a vampire and he'd yet to learn of it. Unlike Spike, Angel could hurt a human being. There was nothing that stopped him from reaching out, grabbing someone with a beating hurt and draining the life out of them, or slowly and painfully bring them to their death. He could hit, kick, bite and kill without physical pain. There would be remorse, there would be guilt but those were so relative and easy to silence. Right now, they really seemed to be quiet. Normally there would be guilt and self-loathing over his nature for as little as those thoughts he just had. There was nothing at all now. And it wasn't even scary that it was this way. That he could be Angel and yet be so detached from everything, so close to Angelus despite the spark of humanity that was forced upon him through that curse. It felt... almost right. ”You won't be getting back, Spike. Even if you were, you would not be laying a finger on Buffy”, Angel growled. It didn't matter that he doubted Spike's ability to put the threat into practice. It just offered him an extra reason to end it, to turn him into a pile of dust. Maybe leaving Sunnydale had meant that he wouldn't be there to protect Buffy from the things that tried to hurt her on a daily basis but this was one threat which he actually had a good chance of stopping before it would materialize itself. ”Oh, I am sure there was begging. I think Rupert would have put you out of your misery if it was up to him.”

"Could say the same for you,"

Angel didn't think there was a need to contradict that comment. He knew what he was, he knew what he could be if the soul was removed from him. He should have been staked a great time ago. He deserved it, specially after the last time Angelus had been out. He wouldn't have minded if his team... former team members would have done it, had his soul been lost again... or now that he was down a very dark path. There was no need for Spike to know that. These kind of thoughts were not something which Angel would share with others, not with the team he once had, not with Doyle, whom was now gone, specially not with Spike. His attention was caught by Fred's voice next and the ensouled vampire focused on her. ”No. No one is helpless”, Angel insisted. Despite his best efforts, his tone betrayed the fact that he felt defeated, that his cause was a lost one. Angel knew that his move would have annoyed Spike. What could have been worse for his ego than being staked twice in the same night, both times in the chest and both close calls? If he wasn't paying attention to Spike's reaction it was solely because Fred was the center of his focus now. ”Was supposed to. Not any more”, he answered in a tone which he hoped would be soothing. The fear that was rolling off her felt even stronger with the closeness and hesitantly, Angel reached to touch her shoulders in a gesture which he hoped would manage to calm her down faster. But she turned his way before he could touch her and his hands just remained frozen in mid air. ”I haven't”, he answered almost immediately. ”I haven't even touched you”, he added, allowing his hands to drop by his side. Oh, he knew very well that there was more than one way you could hurt someone, that the worst kind of injuries were the ones you brought to the mind. He had hurt her, he could feel that he did in all that fear. Angel just wasn't as ready to accept it as he had imagined himself to be.

"You are a monster. Even the girl knows it. Looks like you hurt another one, mate. How many's that now? Tell me, is it easier to keep track of the ones you help or hurt?"

Spike's words made it even harder for Angel. His dark eyes softened, making room for overbearing guilt. He wished he could have said something to make her stop being so scared, to make her believe him that he didn't mean to hurt her but he really didn't know who she was. He just didn't know what to do, how to react to something like this. He had made a point not to care so he didn't even know if there should have been a reaction. Right now Angel felt helpless. Helpless because he didn't know what to do for Fred. He wasn't ready to linger in that state for too long. ”Don't listen to him”, he told Fred before he turned to offer Spike a death glare. ”I thought I warned you to shut up, Spike”, Angel growled, his face morphing into his vampire features. Within a moment he sprang up and launched himself at Spike, aiming a series of punches at his head. ”You are not allowed to judge me!”

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

”No one is helpless. Was supposed to. Not any more”

Angel had always taken his position as champion very seriously. Alright, so Fred said ‘always’ when she’d really only known him five minutes before he’d had to run off to mourn his girlfriend, even though he’d sat her down and promised he would be back, and that everyone else would look out for her while he was gone, but she just had a feeling about him. She didn’t know how accurate it was, since, barring Cordelia, he was the first person she’d spoken to in years and as such her detection skills might have been a little rusty, but he was the knight in shining, fanged armour; Angel was a good person. He hadn’t had to save her, but he’d risked his life to do it anyway; that was the sort of man that he was (and Fred fully believed that he was a man). He wasn’t somebody who didn’t save anyone, who decided he wasn’t a champion anymore and who didn’t care about a girl like her—even if he didn’t know who Fred was, she was, as far as he knew, an innocent, weak bystander. He was supposed to help her, not send her into a state of fear so great she couldn’t have run away if she’d wanted to. “Everyone’s helpless,” she whispered, because what could have happened to him to both erase his memory and his ability to care? “Even if they ain’t, they deserved to be helped anyway.” Did that mean that he wasn’t going to help her, then? Was he just going to do everything he could to remove all trust she’d ever had for him – and she had trusted him with her life – and then leave her at the mercy of the other vampire? And what about him? Why was he still here? Fred peeked at Spike through her hair, her eyebrows furrowed; he seemed a lot more concerned about Angel now than he was about having something to eat, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try and bite her again if the man who was supposed to stop these things from happening decided to leave. And it wasn’t as though Fred would be able to fight; she wouldn’t have been able to anyway, but she’d not been curled in a ball from fear then, either. Now, she probably wouldn’t even scream. Would he take pity on her? She didn’t know. She shouldn’t have needed to even wonder about it, not for a second, but Angel seemed to not want to be the champion anymore, not even when she needed him so much it hurt. Or maybe it hurt because of the way he was acting; either way, she’d been telling herself since she’d arrived in wherever-this-was that everything would be okay when Angel got here...and it wasn’t. “Please be the champion again,” she said, her voice so low that she was almost inaudible; without him being the champion, Fred didn’t know what she was going to do. Angel had been her only hope.

”I haven't even touched you”

Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he get that just because he’d not punched her, or kicked her, or pushed her to the ground, it didn’t mean that he hadn’t hurt her. “Maybe you should’ve done,” she said quietly; it might have been easier to deal with if he’d hurt her physically. If you had a bruise, or even a broken bone, it healed and the scars faded. But Angel hadn’t done that; he’d just crushed her hope, betrayed her trust and made her feel like there really was nobody here who cared about her. At this point, she was considering asking the blonde vampire if he would walk her to somewhere she could stay, away from Angel, and that was ridiculous, given that he had been about to bite her until Angel had swept in to save the day. No, not to save the day; that implied that he was the hero, and that his soul purpose was to save the girl who got lost in the alley. It seemed to Fred that Angel had only come over because he knew Spike from somewhere; otherwise, he might just have left her to get killed. It might have been better if he had; at least then, Fred would have known that she was only dying because she was the nearest available food source. Could someone die from a broken heart? It sure felt like you could. She pressed her hands to her chest, as if that would help hold her heart together, and refused to look at Angel; if she did, Fred felt certain she would burst into tears, and that was something she couldn’t do. She had barely cried the entire time she’d been in Pylea, and she was not going to cry now, in this strange world with un-Angel hurting her more than he could ever realise. Fred might have been scared half out of her mind, but she was better than that.

“I want—” she began, having to stop when her words stuck in her throat, reaching out to stroke the leaves of the plant, drawing comfort from it; it didn’t care if Angel wasn’t Angel, or if she was terrified of him, or if she thought she was dying, she felt so betrayed. It just kept growing, whatever happened, and she admired its strength. Fred wasn’t strong. “I want you to get away from me now,” she managed, although even she would have admitted that she didn’t sound entirely sure about it; right now, she didn’t know if Angel would just snap at her again. But he was hurting her, and if he didn’t realise it – if he wasn’t going to apologise and try and make her feel better, when Fred was pretty sure that she was close to falling apart – then she didn’t want him near her, however much she’d believed that having Angel there would make everything better again. Fred guessed that that was another one of her hopes that had just gone out the window. She knew what it felt like to lose everything. She knew what it was like to not understand what was going on, and to find herself a slave. She knew what it was like to be abused, and scared, and on the run from people that would rather execute her than give her a fair chance to defend herself. But that had just been her life; in Pylea, Fred hadn’t believed there was any other world. Not one that existed outside of her mind, anyway. But now she knew that she’d had things, and now she didn’t. Angel had saved her from the monsters and given her hope, and he’d promised that nothing would harm her again. She had friends – sort of friends, since she barely poked her head out of her room for long enough for them to catch a glance of the back of her head – and she’d been safe, even if Angel hadn’t been there, and now she’d lost everything.

She didn’t even have Angel swooping in to save her, because he was the monster now; he’d not hit her, or tried to eat her, but his actions had been far worse than that would have been. Fred hadn’t been scared of the demon inside him in Pylea, and she wasn’t afraid of his vampire face in her world—but him being mean to her, and not just in a playground teasing way, had her terrified. If that wasn’t being a monster, she didn’t know what was. She hadn’t been listening to much of what Spike had said, the conversation around her sounding distant and echo-y to her ears, but maybe he was right. Angel was a monster, and she wasn’t the first person that he had hurt. He couldn’t be, though; her Angel wasn’t a monster. He was a hero, and the champion, and he saved people because it was the right thing to do, without ever asking for anything back. If this was what he was like now, Fred’s world had fallen apart far more than she could ever have imagined. “He’s right,” she whispered, and though she knew the vampires would be able to hear her, with their enhanced hearing, it was to the plant that she was talking; it was her only friend here. She could trust the plant; she couldn’t trust either of the men here. “He shouldn’t be, but Spike’s right. I don’t want him to be right.”

[SPIKE]

Angel was the perfectly sane one? Spike thought that based on how he acted so far, that he was the one that had fallen far from anything resembling sane. For the record, the blonde vampire wasn't the one rambling about government chips and creating wacky tales where Spike begged for help from the Scoobies. No, Angel was much farther 'round the bend than he was. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, you're chock full of sanity." Spike muttered sarcastically, becoming bored of the arguing over who had more sanity than the other. He was assured that it was him and he didn't need to hear Angel's reasoning as to why he thought he wasn't the sane one. Again, Angel was going on about Thanksgiving. Did he honestly think he was that big of a moron—that he'd just go with it because he tightened his grip and kept insisting that he was there. "The part where I was in Sunnydale on Thanksgiving. Do you even own a sodding calendar? Or are you just that blue without the slayer that you're making up little memories of dashing in and rescuing her? How does she thank you Angel? With a little happily ever after that doesn't result in you ripping her throat out? " He scoffed, amused with the thought. It wouldn't surprise him if Angel was out of his head. He was starting to believe it himself. The soulless vampire still wasn't considering his position to be dire enough to quit the mockery or the humour at Angel's expense. "If you ask me, you blurred the lines a bit too much, can't tell what's real." Spike was talking. That was all that he was really doing, snapping back with the first thing that came to mind. It was all about insulting him, not getting to the bottom of why he was saying those things about him. Insane sounded like the best reason and he wasn't going to give him the benefit of the doubt. For all he knew, the older vampire was trying to drive him crazy by making him think he was. All that he really did was frustrate him and he couldn't seem to break away to actually get him to stop.

”You won't be getting back, Spike. Even if you were, you would not be laying a finger on Buffy”,

Somehow, he was going to get back. Spike wasn't about to give up, not when he had just returned. Even if all of his attempts at killing the slayer had gone up in grandiose failure, the soulles vamp was going to keep at it until he finished. One good day and she'd crumble and fall. He'd finish her off, all her friends, and that'd be the end of his problems. It was a good plan, if only there were actual plans to it and not just I'm-going-to-kill-the-slayer. "You really think that's up to you?" He inquired, serious. There was no way in hell that he was going to listen to Angel or let him make it so that Spike couldn't get back. He didn't even know where the hell he was. All that he figured from a brief look around while he walked was that he wasn't fond of it. It wasn't that he liked Sunnydale either. In fact, he loathed the Hellmouth and all of the cursed luck he had there. He'd like to see the place burn with the slayer in it. But, he wasn't looking to randomly appear in some old fashioned place out of no where. And he most definitely wasn't looking to appear where Angel was. It was Hell. No other explanation could cover it. "Sure he would, Angel, if that happened in the first place." Not once did he let up on that. He had never been there, begging or otherwise. Giles never had a chance to kill him (or put him out of his misery as Angel so kindly phrased it). Had Spike mentioned Angel was out of his mind? Because, he felt like he couldn't reiterate it enough.

Perhaps, at this juncture, it was a good idea to get the hell out of the alley and somewhere where there were fewer attempts at his life. His appetite was stifled, but he would have liked to figure out where he was. Instead, he used that wall to keep himself balanced against it, letting out a slow, reflexive breath. His chest ached and he imagined thrusting one of those stakes into Angel for good measure. Sure, barely a week ago he had been watching the ensouled vampire get himself skewered by pokers, but he had a reason there. It was a means to an end. Now, one he enjoyed, but to be honest, he never had patience for torture. It started to wear on him and only used it to get what he wanted, not for the fun of it. His patience was limited. Even though he had subjected Angel to hours of torture at the hands of Marcus, the vampire didn't see the fairness in continuously staking him. So, it'd been twice, but that last shot—no way he could've been trying. As Angel went on about there being no helpless, his brows knitted and he eyed the pair. Was everyone just completely insane? Of course there were helpless! Humans were the very epitome of helplessness. That girl he was talking to had to be one of the most helpless he had seen in a while, even with the 'Champion' there. It looked like Angel had given up on his little slogan and purpose. And while it didn't bother Spike one bit, he knew that it had to get under Angel's skin to be so far gone from what he was supposed to be. And if the peroxided vampire was asked, he would have said a Champion wasn't it to begin with. What he was supposed to be was some soulless bastard with even less sanity than he had with a soul. Actually, on second thought, maybe he was finally playing with the same shortened deck as Angelus.

”You are not allowed to judge me!”

The older male could warn him to shut up for an eternity and it wouldn't do him any good. Spike didn't quiet because he was told. Hell, he had been given more than enough physical reasons to shut up and it didn't drive him to that conclusion at all. He just kept trying to egg him on, to get under his skin a little bit more. Spike had been feeling pretty damn helpless when he couldn't get away and if he couldn't physically fend him off then he was going to use everything he could to take shots at him. "Sorry, mate. Forgot to care." Angel launched another attack and immediately Spike's arms went to cover his head from the series of blows. A couple hit and he growled, not entirely prepared for it. Angrily, he attempted to knee the other vampire in the stomach to get him back. "Why not? You can't handle it, can you? Can't handle that I'm dead on." He hissed between clenched teeth, attempting to push him away.

“He shouldn’t be, but Spike’s right. I don’t want him to be right.”

"Even the bird agrees," Spike chuckled, despite how unsure he was of why he shouldn't be right. No one ever gave him enough credit when it came to his intelligence or his insight. The truth was, he wasn't usually way off unless he was judging himself. And if he had been completely out of his head then Angel would never have become half as pissed as he was. That was a give away that he was touching down correctly. He didn't care about Angel's feelings or what he went through. None of it mattered and neither should the girl huddled over there. And in a sense, she didn't matter fully. But, he was feeling kind of bad for her. He was absolutely passed trying to kill her. Even if Angel skulked away, the soulless vampire wasn't about to go back to sinking his fangs into the young woman's throat. Angel was dealing off more than enough pain for the two of them. If even the girl agreed with him, then there had to be a lot of truth in it. After all, she obviously knew him as the champion and good vampire that he tried to be.

[ANGELUS]

”"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you're chock full of sanity."

”Since you put it that way...”, Angel started, a darker sarcasm in his voice. He pretended to give it thought, to really question whether or not he was the sane one in the story – even if not only for half a second did he begin to consider the alternative. ”Yeah, I am very sane, thank you. Too bad the same can't be said for you.” A powerful twist of the arm came to highlight the last part of that sentence before Angel chuckled darkly. ”Wait, did I just say “too bad”? What was I thinking? I meant to say ”Such pleasure”.” Everything from tone to look in his eyes was identical to the way in which Angelus talked and acted around his victims. Did it have to do with the fact that it was exactly Spike the unfortunate vampire who happened to try and feed in his way tonight, or did it have to do with the fact that Wolfram & Hart had finally managed to destroy the last shred of hope in his soul, Angel wasn't sure. He just knew that he didn't want to plunge a stake through Spike's dead heart and walk away, no. He wanted the peroxide brain to have his death as a relief after painful torture. Angel wanted to draw it out and relish in it, even if it was not the pain of a human being but that of a creature similar to him. It didn't bother him that this night he might be for Spike what Angelus had been for so many humans for more than a hundred years. Not one bit.

”Do you want me to draw it for you, Spike, before it gets through that thick skull of yours? I know my calendar perfectly. Today it's the twenty fifth of April and last November when I was in Sunnydale, you were nicely tied to a chair in Giles' house, having been reduced to a begging puppy by a Government chip implanted in your head. Was it clear enough or do you want me to hit you and clear the fog?” The off-hand comments made about his state of sanity and about his break-up with Buffy only served to anger Angel even more than he already was and that foretold nothing good for Spike – as it was obvious later when the peroxided vampire had to deal with two stake wounds. ”You mention Buffy again and I will make sure that your death will be the slowest and most painful I ever caused”, Angel growled. Perhaps he should have thought twice before speaking. A poor soul was crouched next to a plant pot, scared out of her mind, and he was making open threats about torture and death. On second thought, why care? Fred had her chance to leave, she still did and she should have taken advantage of it if the scene bothered her. Just because she insisted to linger there, it didn't mean that he would magically manage to remember her. Angel was positive: he had never seen Fred in his long life.

“Everyone’s helpless. Even if they ain’t, they deserved to be helped anyway.”

”They don't.” The reply was cold and to the point. ”It's because of them that...” Angel swallowed and stopped himself. He couldn't say it out loud, he hated to say it out loud. It didn't mean that if he kept silent about it reality would magically change because that was not the way in which thing worked. It just needed time to properly sink in. In time the detachment which Angel was aiming for at the moment would be complete. The strings that tied him to humanity hadn't yet been completely severed, which was why it hurt to admit the truth. Or why Fred's reaction and the overwhelming fear that rolled off her were getting to him the way in which they did. ”I can't be a Champion. I have nothing to fight for”, Angel admitted in a quieter tone, without wishing to venture into the details on what made him reach that conclusion. When he heard what Fred had to say next, Angel clenched his jaw, his gaze lowering itself to the ground. Had that not been an absolutely impossible phenomenon, he felt as if the air had been knocked out of him with a hard punch in his stomach. ”Do you... do you really mean that?” It was all he managed to choke out in disbelief. Had he really managed to be so cruel so as to make her prefer physical pain? Angel argued with his conscience whose weight was beginning to burden him already. All he had done was to tell her that he didn't know her – it was nothing more than the truth.

”“I want— I want you to get away from me now,”

The strange sensation returned and Angel shook his head to himself. This was wrong, this was completely wrong. He didn't want to help humans, he didn't want to be the Champion. He didn't want to care and he wanted to break free from the burden of a soul. Right now, though, he wanted not to be taken for a monster, not just yet. Shouldn't she wish Spike away, the vampire which had tried to feed off her? Shouldn't she want to stay with him since she claimed to know him? If he plea was granted it was just because of Spike's determination to continue speaking, pointing out to truths which Angel preferred not to hear spoke – deep inside, he was aware of them though. Too distracted by Fred's fear, his punches were easily blocked and Spike's kick hit him easily, making him stumble back a few steps. ”You are not right!”, Angel growled, recoiling to send a kick straight for Spike's chest – the place where it would hurt the most right now. ”She's scared and confused and you're making it worse”, he added, aiming a couple of more kicks at the younger vampire. It had to be because of Spike that she was so scared, not because of him. Not just yet. He was still Angel. He hadn't crossed that path just yet. ”Don't listen to what he says”, he encouraged Fred. ”I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not a monster.”

[WINIFRED BURKLE]

Today it's the twenty fifth of April

Most of Spike and Angel’s conversation was going straight over Fred’s head; she had no idea what they were talking about, or what the history was between them, and frankly, it wasn’t exactly at the top of her priority list to find out now, when there were far more important things to worry about, like the fact that Angel not only didn’t know who she was, but was also almost cruel about it. There was also the not-so minor problem of the fact that she had somehow ended up in a different dimension, and this time, Fred knew that she hadn’t read any funny sounding words aloud. Sure, she’d been researching spells that might be able to protect her – and the rest of Angel Investigations – from being sucked into a portal, by sneaking downstairs when nobody else was there and borrowing books, but she’d not said any of them out loud, because while she understood basic Latin, she didn’t really know what that might do when combined with magic. She’d been planning to write them out and leave them on Wesley’s desk, actually, asking if he could check them for her, but she’d not managed it. She should have gotten around to it sooner, because one of them might have stopped her being brought here. She didn’t want to be here, but Fred didn’t know how to get back. She’d not known how to get back last time, and if it wasn’t for Angel, she probably never would have done. Why, then, was she here now, and why was she with an Angel who didn’t recognise her, and was far more interested in hitting the other vampire than he was in making sure the girl felt safe. It wasn’t that Fred wanted to be helpless, to need saving, but the fact was that she did; she was scared already, just by being here, and he hadn’t helped in the slightest. “It’s July,” she said, barely louder than a whisper, as Angel mentioned the date; she might not have known what they were talking about, but she’d been half-listening, just the same, waiting for some indication that he would help her instead of hurt her. But it wasn’t April; she knew the date, because every day, she crossed the square through on the calendar on her wall with her red pen. One more day that Angel wasn’t home. One more day she wasn’t a cow slave anymore. And she knew it was July.

”I can't be a Champion. I have nothing to fight for”

“You’re always the Champion!” Fred protested, unable to look at this man who was professing to be Angel, but without any of his good qualities. What had happened to him? What had been so bad that it had not only given him complete amnesia, but made him dark, and scary, so that he had given up on his path of saving people altogether? She didn’t understand it, and that didn’t help anything, because right now, her level of comprehension was pretty much limited to: Angel didn’t know her. Angel didn’t know her, and the vampire who’d been about to eat her (not nice, sure, but actually understandable, whereas Angel’s behaviour was not) was making more sense than he was. Fred didn’t like it; she was meant to be able to rely on Angel. How had she ended up being the one to give him the pep talk, about why it was worth fighting, when Fred couldn’t even convince herself to go out of her bedroom most of the time? “There’s always something to fight for,” she whispered, because she knew that to be true; if she’d not thought there was something, then she would have given up the moment she’d found her cave and determined that it was safe, and she wouldn’t have spent the next four years trying to figure out how to get home. But she wasn’t the right person to tell him this, because Fred wasn’t strong like he was—like he was supposed to be. She couldn’t tell him what to fight for, when she couldn’t fight her own fear, but there was something to fight for, she knew. Angel knew that too. At least, she had thought he did. Now, Fred wasn’t quite so sure.

”Do you... do you really mean that?”

Fred curled her arms around her neck protectively, looking away from Angel and getting as tightly into the corner between the wall and the flower pot as she could, as if having protection on two sites of her would help, somehow. It couldn’t help; there wasn’t anything the plant could do to help her here, because it didn’t know what was going on. “I don’t understand what I did wrong,” she whispered, because as far as she could see, Angel had no reason to act like this. Sure, it had to be tough, coming home from a new dimension to find that his ex-girlfriend had died, but he’d gone away to deal with that, and when he came back, he was supposed to have moved on, so he could go back to helping the helpless – one of which was Fred. Was this her fault? Had she simply spent too much time being crazy in her room, and he had decided that she was too big a project to deem worthwhile now, so he was pretending that he didn’t know her instead? “Bruises’re just a mild haematoma of tissue, where blood goes into the extracellular space,” Fred muttered, wiping frantically at her cheeks as tears started to fall. No, she wasn’t crying—why was she crying? “They hurt, but then they go away and you don’t feel ‘em anymore, so you forget they ever happened and it doesn’t hurt,” she explained, although she didn’t honestly think that she would ever be able to look Angel in the eye again if he had actually hit her...that was assuming he ever went back to normal and she wanted to look him in the eye, which right now Fred knew that she wasn’t even capable of. She sniffed, swallowing around a lump in her throat to try and calm her tears, because it was bad enough being scared without being a crybaby too, but she couldn’t help it. All she had wanted was for Angel to put his arms around her and tell her that he was going to fix everything...but what she’d got was this. Fred didn’t want this. “It doesn’t heal if you made it hurt inside. Now...now get away from me, please.”

”She's scared and confused and you're making it worse”

That was it; Fred couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take cataloguing the ways that Angel was different from how he was supposed to be, and cowering beside a (perfectly amenable) plant, wondering which of the vampires she was meant to be most scared of. She didn’t want to be in this world, and she certainly didn’t want to be in it alone, but Angel coming to save her wasn’t the miracle that it was meant to have been. He hadn’t told her that everything would be alright, and promised to find a way out of here, and he hadn’t reassured her gently, his big hands touching her shoulders so she could draw strength from him. He hadn’t even recognised her, and Fred had had enough. She’d had enough of being something for the two vampires to argue about, when they were more concerned about hurting each other than helping a helpless girl that was, for Angel, at least, the sort of person he was supposed to have dedicated his life to saving. “Don’t talk about me like I ain’t here!” she said loudly, although her voice trembled. Now, Fred stood up, wiping her eyes and wrapping her arms protectively around her middle, as if it might stop some of the painful emotional daggers that he was throwing from going in. “And don’t tell me what to do! You don’t—” She paused, swallowing, trying to keep up her bravado long enough to say what she wanted to say, long enough to show this Angel just how much she didn’t need his help. She did, she knew she did, and the second she was far away enough, Fred knew that she would break down and probably be unable to fix herself, but she would rather fall apart on her own than let Angel, her hero, smash her hope into smithereens. “You don’t even know me!” she finished, looking at Angel, utterly heartbroken, for a moment before tearing off down the street as fast as she could run, heading further into this world that she didn’t know or trust, just to get away from him. It was all wrong; Angel was the person she should have been running to. Was everything really that messed up here?

[SPIKE]

”Wait, did I just say “too bad”? What was I thinking? I meant to say ”Such pleasure”.”

Again, Spike clenched his jaw shut to stifle the grunt of pain that followed the twist of his arm. The state of Angel's soul was becoming more and more unclear—the tone of voice was resemblant of Angelus, which only led Spike to wonder if the in between was getting a little too hard for him to distinguish between. Though, since he was attacking him for attacking the girl, Spike was pretty sure that the soul was intact. Is this what the big Champion did? Trade the human victims for the vampire ones? Frankly, Spike didn't want to be on the receiving end of Angel's aggression. Well, not when he couldn't turn around and fight him back. If it had been a fair fight, the peroxide blonde had no doubt that he'd be able to kick his ass all over that alley and then some. Instead, he was the one in the unfortunate position, not even bothering to try to twist out of his grasp, because that seemed to make it hurt a hell of a lot worse. He would figure out a way to get him to let go, and when he did, then he'd be the one laughing over Angel. "You're a sick bastard, y'know that?" Of course, he did. But Spike growled it out anyway, and sharply attempted to twist his arm out of his grasp again. It was an understatement to say it was getting old. Angel was completely out of his mind and while Spike would have gladly said he was always out of his mind, he seemed to make insanity look a lot more real now. A lot of Spike's insults could revolve around very little truth, but this time around, Angel had dove straight off the deep end and it didn't look like there was any saving him.

"Today it's the twenty fifth of April and last November when I was in Sunnydale, you were nicely tied to a chair in Giles' house, having been reduced to a begging puppy by a Government chip implanted in your head.”

“It’s July,”

Why didn't he give up on that story already? Spike was sure that if the government installed a chip in his head that he would be aware of it. And he had definitely never been
exposed to the humiliation of being tied to a chair in Giles' living room. It made it even less convincing when Angel said the wrong date. It wasn't April! It was long past April. It sounded to him like Angel had lost his touch when it came to lying, because he wasn't making any sense. Or maybe, maybe he really was living in some twisted delision where Spike had a chip in his head and what—he ran around more than a little out of his mind and couldn't even properly save someone? Spike was ready to counter and let him know that he had the wrong date. Even if he didn't have a calendar, couldn't he tell that it was November and not April? Of course, with Southern California's stable climate it might be a little rough to tell. But, not that rough. There were more than a few ways to figure out what the date was and Angel was far off. Of course, he wasn't expecting the girl to pipe in with a correction that was just as off. "Look the girl's halfway to crazy herself, so I'll give her that, but it's November, you dolt." And late enough November for him to have been tied to anyone's chair with a chip implanted in his brain. Not that that was going to happen anyway. It sounded like the most ridiculous thing he could possibly conjure up. Even if there was a government operation lurking around putting chips in vampires (and Spike wouldn't doubt it extensively, it didn't sound unbelievable) they wouldn't have gotten a hold of him. The blonde vampire would be too smart to get himself captured. Sure, he managed to get himself caught by a military operation in the war decades ago, but that was a different animal. All that he knew was that there was never going to be a night when had a chip in his head and was begging to the Scoobies for help. Never.

”You mention Buffy again and I will make sure that your death will be the slowest and most painful I ever caused”

Coming from Angel, that might have sounded like a pretty big threat. Fully aware of the slow, painful deaths he had caused over his lifetime, Spike didn't plan to be one of them. And vampires, they died a lot slower than humans did. But, Spike wasn't about to listen to reason and stop mentioning Buffy. Oh, he knew it could strike a nerve and that was exactly what he was looking to do. "Funny, kind of what I had in mind for her," actually, a quick death would suit him just fine. Spike didn't have any interest in slow, painful deaths, even if they were as infuriating as the slayer. She had been the bane of his existence for the last two years and he'd be pleased if he she wound up dead, but he wasn't particular about the way of it. Just as long as he could finally get her out of the way and break his ties to that bleeding Hellmouth. He'd be able to go back to the way things were before Sunnydale; that was his goal, but as of tonight it was interrupted again. And now, he was stuck in who-knows-where with Angel and that poor cowering girl; a girl that was feeling pretty sorry for. And how he could feel sorry for her without a soul and Angel couldn't with one was completely beyond him. He figured that he should be over there trying to comfort the poor thing, but obviously what Spike thought that night was far from correct. It probably didn't help that Fred appeared to be more afraid of Angel than she was of him. It was so backwards, though Spike guessed that if he tried to go to her side, she'd probably be fearful of him too. He was ready to go for the bite when Angel so heroically intervened. He didn't seem like much of a hero now.

And it didn't look like he considered himself much of one either with the way he said he wasn't a Champion. It was the one part of the conversation that he let go between the two of them without any of his commentary. It was more than obvious that he was hurting her, even to him. And Fred was good at articulating why. Maybe Angel would get distracted with how much of a monster he was and then the blonde vampire would have his chance to take advantage of the situation. He didn't want to startle Fred further, even if he should be the one that didn't care either way. Although he didn't like the state she was in, he was impressed with the way Angel reacted to it. It wasn't half bad to watch him get bogged down with a case of the guilties. Right now, he should have been more concerned with getting out of the area. At this juncture, he had stopped thinking about where he was completely. It was still a mystery and he wanted to know where he was and how he ended up there. But leaving Angel was probably a more important desire. Still, he stayed put, because he needed to regain himself and he wanted his shot at taking down the brooding wonder.

”She's scared and confused and you're making it worse”,

Spike was right, he thought, he was exactly right. He wouldn't be half as defensive if he didn't think the same. Well, considering how things were between the two and how Fred wasn't getting any better over there, he might have been wrong. But, the vampire knew it wasn't what he did that was making it worse for her. His attack had been frightening enough but since the attack, Spike hadn't made a move to hurt her or to scare her. Hell, when he attacked, he had every intention of making it as quick as possible. There wasn't a lot of time to be afraid of him. Well, until he was interrupted and now there was ample room for her to fear him. The hits might have been blocked, but when Angel kicked him, he gasped in pain, feeling himself weigh heavily against the wall, cringing. He wasn't able to deflect the next two. Instead, he rested his own palm against the wound where he was staked, and where most of the pain throbbed from the hits. "Keep telling yourself that, mate, but you know it ain't true." He spoke up after a moment, cringing outwardly even though he'd much rather show nothing but strength to the older vampire. "You're more of a monster to her than I am," he didn't know if that was true, because obviously there was more of a personal betrayal going on between the two. Spike didn't care if she thought he was a monster (although he preferred vampire over monster any day). All he wanted was to score a meal ticket, not turn her into a trembling, scared girl in the corner next to a plant. It was when Fred finally stood up, that Spike's eyes went past Angel and to her. The whole time this had been going on, that was one of the last moves he expected to see her make. It was impressive, but incredibly sad at the same time. His eyes flickered back to Angel, a smug smirk presenting itself after the look of surprise and sympathy faded. "Looks like she knows exactly what's making her so scared." And Spike was willing to bet that it wasn't him... Not anymore. He wasn't doing anything remotely scary.

[ANGELUS]

"You're a sick bastard, y'know that?"

Angel didn't seem to be affected by Spike's attempt to insult him – or to point out some truth which he had picked on. Trust good, old William to point out to all the flaws which you were trying your best to hide. Both as Angelus and as Angel, he had told him on more than one occasion that he was an absolute idiot and he had commented on his apparent lack of a brain. In some ways, it was true. Spike rarely seemed to actually think before acting and on more than one occasion he had managed to put their strange and deviant little vampire family in danger. On the other hand, there was no denying that he had his special way of seeing the subtle details and of pointing them out without sugar coating the truth. One of the many reasons why he couldn't stand him. ”I've been called worse”, he answered with a shrug, ignoring the fact that such a comment should have bothered him deeply. It wasn't Angel the one that should have been the sick bastard, the one worthy of that title was usually Angelus. Granted, it was a matter of perspective. To vampires he might have seemed like a sick bastard because, up until a couple of hours ago, his set of values had been completely different to theirs. That's not what Spike meant though, Angel was convinced about it. He was talking about the way he treated the foreign girl and the fact that he was torturing him and it didn't bother Angel at all to think that his change of heart had been so quick to draw this perception upon him. At least, not when the comment came from Spike.

“It’s July.”
“Look the girl's halfway to crazy herself, so I'll give her that, but it's November, you dolt.”

Angel's eyes narrowed down on each of them, in turn, as they spoke. If it was some kind of joke, this had to be the moment in which it stopped being funny. He was more than certain about the month of the year they were in. Not only because he wasn't as insane as to lose track of time by months in a row, but also because he had read a fair number of newspapers the past days, while trying to gather information on the party Wolfram and Hart were planning and his photographic memory was never wrong: all were dated April. He could perfectly remember November too. Doyle had a vision that evil was threatening Buffy and that sent him to Sunnydale to her help. It was there where he saw Spike's new pathetic state but he didn't really have too much time to give it a great deal of thought. Buffy coming to LA after him and the things that happened between the two of them had been enough to shake him badly enough as to make him try his best to erase the trip to Sunnydale from his mind, Spike and his chip included. Could it be that the chip has misfired and caused Spike's brain to get stuck to a phase in his memories in which he didn't have that plastic bit in his head? No, that couldn't explain why he had actually looked perfectly capable of attacking Fred. Captain Peroxide didn't look like he had the slightest of migraines there. As for the girl... Angel was inclined to agree with Spike on her state of mind, even if that didn't explain why she had been adamant in claiming that he knew her. Last time he checked, insane people didn't randomly happen to know your name, unless there was something more to that state, something with mystical roots. ”It's not November or July. It's April. I'm positive. I don't know what game you're trying to play.” Though he kept his gaze trained on Spike as he spoke, the question had also been meant for Fred to answer. It was beginning to look more and more like another attempt of the evil law firm to push Angel down, way past the rock bottom he had already hit. ”Don't try me, Spike”, Angel growled when Spike insisted with his threats towards Buffy. Did it look like he had been joking? Because he had never been more serious in his entire life.

“You’re always the Champion! There’s always something to fight for.”

[/b]

Angel fought the urge to sigh. Fred did nothing but repeat everything which the ensouled vampire had heard before. Whenever he was lost on his way, hopeless and misguided, someone would come and say these lines and stir him down the right path again, motivating him to pick up a weapon and fight off everything that was threatening to destroy peace and harm the helpless. Whenever he had fought, it had been for a reason. At first, he had fought for Buffy's sake. The Slayer had been the center of his universe and everything he did had revolved around the goal of keeping her safe from harm's way. Then there had been the Shanshu Prophecy, the fight for the purpose of becoming a human one day, when he would have finally atoned for a century of murders. He had fought for Darla and for allowing her to enjoy the second chance at life which she had been given – even if only for the purpose of getting to him. Wolfram and Hart had to be proud of themselves. Her siring had been all it took for him to finally surrender everything and give in to his inner darkness, forgetting about the good fight and all those other high ideals. ”Not any more”, he answered. Simple, no details. He preferred to just pull those memories out of his mind, like he had done with Buffy's memories of that perfect day. Too bad it wasn't possible in this case. ”This time... there's nothing left to fight for...”, he added in a quieter tone.

Or maybe there was? Maybe humanity wasn't as lost and corrupted as Manners had made it sound? This girl, this Fred that had looked at him as if he had been her knight in shining armor, she looked like anything but evil. She was virtually the embodiment of the helpless he had always fought for. Had someone or something else had her cowering that way Angel wouldn't have thought twice - he would have dashed in and killed the monster that would scare Fred out of her mind like that. What to do when he was the monster? Angel had saved her from Spike, he was supposed to be the hero, even if he hadn't done it for the sake of her life as much as he had done it for the purpose of annoying the other vampire. It was much too soon for Angel to find himself in this position. The soul still weighed hard upon him, his conscience already beginning to claw deep gashes. Only without a soul could he possible look at Fred and not be affected, not want to pull her in his arms and apologize and assure her that he wasn't going to hurt her and that he would make sure she was safe. No matter how much he urged himself not to care, his soul made it impossible for him not and her words hurt. It took a lot to get to Angel, specially when it came down to verbal attacks. He had heard enough not to be easily phased. This girl, though, was getting to him in ways he had never really thought it would be possible and all she was doing was being mortified in his presence. ”Don't say that”, he countered in a tone which he tried to make as soothing as possible. ”I didn't hurt you. Didn't mean to.”

Angered towards himself, the perfect way to relieve this feeling was by taking out on Spike. He was feeling bad enough without having to listen to Spike acting as the voice of his conscience. God, how was he doing that? ”Shut up, Spike”, Angel growled again, content to see that he had managed to hurt the peroxided vampire bad enough as to make him show as much as a cringe – knowing the size of Spike's ego, a cringe was a considerably big reaction. He was getting ready to send another round of kicks and punches the other vampire's way, when Fred stood up, making his head jerk her way, in surprise toward her sudden outburst. Taking a step her way, his hand hesitantly reached forward, in a friendly gesture, meant to help her calm down but he stopped short of touching her. He wanted to say something to help ease her fear, to convince her that despite the things she had seen and heard, he wanted to help her. Words froze on his lips when he caught the look Fred had in her eyes before she took off. God, that look... It had been enough to root Angel to the ground, rendering him unable to follow her into the night. What had he done? Was this really the kind of person he wanted to turn into? Were people like Fred really worth sacrificing because of the ones whose hearts were black and rotten?[/justify]