Reality Crisis

The crone stretched slowly, groaning a little as she felt the twinges of soreness from a very good night. She made a soft moan as she curled up tighter to the body beside her. She bit softly into the skin near her lips, nails lightly raked at the skin beneath her fingers. Her legs wrapped about the body beside her. She did always like waking up to wonderful bodies beside her. Wonderful and useful bodies.

"Wake up, love." She might have run the ring over the skin, just a little painful tease. She did like the idea that he would let her hurt him, even a small pain, so easily. She bit softly again. "So, did the boy make it through?"

The crone didn't remember her Viking returning to their bed, and there was a strange feeling inside. She sat up quickly to look at the body beside her.

"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my bed?" The power was already growing for an attack.

When the rain finally stopped Spike had set off, stomping through the streets in a less than stellar mood. When you'd endured your entire body being invaded through every hole by a plague of beetles, a few reptiles hitting your head just didn't seem too problematic, but it was still annoying. And some of them were still alive now, and kept getting underfoot as he moved through New Troy. Not to mention the corpses lying everywhere, bloody and some still twitching. He paused to head into a bar to get directions before he left it, not wasting any time, and soon found what appeared to be the Mayor's house.

Pushing past the gate he headed up and knocked, looking around. Not a bad place to set up shop, given the condition of the world. The door opened and a weedy fellow looked out, then opened the door wider and invited him in.

"Thanks. This is the Mayor's place, yeah? He in?" Spike grunted, walking in and stepping on the head of a snake that tried to pass him as it entered. The man shut the door and nodded, opening his mouth to say something else, though Spike was already continuing on, leaving grimy footprints in his wake. "No worries, mate. I'll find my own way."

Pam had taken to looking around, seeing what could be done. The world she found herself in might be minus rules, but it was also minus amenities she'd grown accustom to. She didn't care for the lack, yet Eric seemed more than willing to make a go of it. It helped that Pam was a survivor, and while she'd prefer her pink tracksuits or her designer shoes, she'd survive this. Her maker would expect nothing less.

He'd warned her about the forest, about the things in it. She'd stay away, which left her the rest of the wilderness of ruins or this New Troy to continue to make her way through. She worked on a list of improvements, keeping in mind that Eric wanted the people happy, subdued. Yet, they needed blood. She was a vampire, and understood the need for it. She also understood how her maker felt when he discussed the arena; she felt it as well, literally.

The petite vampire had been staring at the arena from a few yards away; the humans needed violence, but it would not be found in this arena. If there were things outside that needed to be dealt with violently...An army? A militia? The arena could not be used for that, too much bad mojo as they might say in some places, but elsewhere? She'd meant to broach the subject with Eric later that night, only...

Plop. Hiss. Plop. Croak. Very sick wet plop and thud. Crack. She was registering the sounds before she bothered looking around. It was the sound of death. Then something hit her and sunk its fangs into her shoulder.

"What the fuck!" The shock of realizing what was falling broken by the violation of fangs. She looked down at the snake still attacked to her then started running. At the moment, the only open covering was an overhang connecting to that damned arena.

"He's giving me a pony for this," she commented softly to herself as she pulled the snake out of her shoulder and broke its neck. As if she'd ever ask for such a ridiculous and useless thing like a pony.

The day in the woods had been extremely uncomfortable for Spike, who'd wound up getting lightly roasted anyway throughout the day and had returned hungry and singed to die Festung. A few days, cold baths, and warm blood saw him fit and healthy again, and son he was restless.

Perhaps not restless enough to go back into those woods again, but after night fell the vampire went to explore his new territory a bit more in depth, walking the streets and getting a feel for the cityscape. Not that it was his alone, but he was based here and didn't have plans on going back to that other city, or joining the gypsies he'd heard about. He'd had quite enough of camping out, thank you very much.

He wanted a smoke, but there weren't any good cigarettes that he could find in this city. Same went with the booze. But logic held that if this place had so many horrible aspect to it there had to be one or two parts of it that were fantastic. He just had to find those bits and hope they were interesting in the slightest to him.

Fred wasn't sure what to think about Sam and whatever he was going to do with John. She had this feeling that something was happening that could be...She honestly had no idea, but the kiss on the forehead had been a little thrill that was a little bothersome. Why had he kissed her? It wasn't a major kiss, but it was still a strange way to say good bye.

No one had to worry about the brainy Texan going into the forest, especially at night; she was careful not to go in because she didn't know if she wanted to be cursed. Actually, she was rather certain she didn't want to be cursed. She didn't even want to think about what her curse would be; it was bad enough she was still working out what she should write for a demon who was holding information, all of it, hostage. Shouldn't they be working on another way of handling the situation?

So, with her mind on so many things, she stuck to walking the perimeter of the camp. She was paying a little bit of attention to the world around her, but Fred was more intent on answering those nagging questions.

(Happens directly after this)

Spike shoved through the bodies coming up to him, not holding back his strength as he moved from room to room of the house of pleasures, testing the air and hunting a bit until he found a doorway that opened to a descending staircase. He'd had a good tour of the place earlier, so he knew that every other room was probably empty, but this is what he'd been hunting for. The secret in the basement.

"Oi, Captain boy, over here," he called, peering down into the darkness. There were lights below, flickering, and definitely something moving down there. "I think I found the mistress of the manor."

He adjusted the tiny pants he'd been forced into slightly, then grit his teeth. "I say we go in and kill whatever's there, that should stop the forest from turning on us."

Spike was in another world. Not physically, maybe, but as he staggered throughout the house of pleasures his mind was on a different plane of existance. Since he and Jack had gotten here he hadn't seen the other man. His time had been nothing but sex, drugs, and some good old fashioned pleasure sport.

It had culminated the night before when the primal nature these people seemed determined to pull from him had finally reared it's bumpy, fanged head and he'd bitten a rather delicious young morsel, draining them dry. But it hadn't been human. Maybe he should have known that from the get go, after all the longer he was here the more he felt some kind of pull at his soul. He was all too experienced with the soul tug-of-war to not notice it. It didn't worry him too much, though, he'd still been content to stay here and be enveloped, forgetting the world he didn't care about outside the building.

When he'd bitten that delicious neck, though, everything had changed. It was magic, whoever these people were, it was all magic. And even in the throws of one of the most powerful consumption highs of his life he'd known there was something else going on here.

( He waved off his followers, the small flock of bodies who followed him everywhere in this place, )

Jack stood just outside the walls of die Festung with the wind tugging at the tails of his coat as he eyed the forest that seemed to have sprung up over night. In his experience things that just appear never meant anything good. The smart thing to do was to find a high vantage point and observe the forest for a while, see what went in or came out of it. Jack wasn't doing the smart thing these days, not since his ability to care about his wellbeing went the way of Ianto and his grandson. He had every intention of going in there to find out first hand what was going on. He was just making something of a production about it.

"Who can impress the forest, bid the tree unfix his earthbound root?" He smiled, chuckling to himself for the reference.

Spike didn't like his basement apartment.

Well, sure, it was decked out fairly nicely, and had everything he needed (including a fridge stocked with blood, and he felt like the door was decently built. But it wasn't home.

So he went out to find the nearest watering hole and get piss drunk. It really seemed like the best thing to do given the situation. Strangely, though, finding out he was a television character really wasn't the worst bit of news. After all, he appreciated the great television dramas as much as anybody else. And he knew he was damn good looking and probably, at one point, had a huge fangirl population. That was something a man could appreciate.

Still, that didn't quite make up for the fact that he was an outted vampire in a strange city with no demon underground to terrorize or rely on as he wanted. Getting to the nearest bar he sat down heavily, ordering a bottle of alcohol.

There were quite a few newcomers to die Festung, courtesy of that bastard over at New Troy and his indecent treatment of them. Belia didn't enjoy the idea of the man treating the chosen like they were his own personal playthings, however she couldn't complain about the fact that her offer of sanctuary had to seem infinitely better than the accommodations at New Troy.

All of the chosen had now been offered apartments at the building that she'd had vacated for them during the arrival of Dean Winchester and Dinah Lance. The building had been mostly empty already and it was finely appointed and fitting of the potential saviors of their world.

All had been offered arrangements except one. An apartment was currently being prepared and furnished within the basement of the building, but she wanted to speak with the vampire first. She had holy water and a stake at the ready though she didn't expect to need either.

The vampire known as Spike was a bit of a wild card, but if she could convince him that it was within his best interests to play nice then she believed that nobody within the city walls would have reason to fear him.

Belia had asked one of her guards to escort Spike to her receiving room and she waited patiently, ready with the packets of pig's blood that were currently cooling in the ice box.

Spike's consciousness started to clear as he was shoved into a small, dank cell. He hit the ground, grunting slightly as he rolled over, the loud banging of the cell door being shut and locked.

He slowly rolled over, blinking as his vision, blurry and jumping for a moment before it slowly came in. It was an effect he had experienced before, not in quite the same way, but….

He slowly looked up, then grunted. Definitely a cell. Small, and with firm looking bars. He pulled himself up, then got to his feet, staggering slightly as pain washed over him. "Whoa… oh, sod it…." he limped forward and grabbed the cell doors, tugging at them. No give, not even a slight budge. "Oh, not again."

Though… this wasn't the Initiative. No. Not nearly shiny and reflective enough to be those buggers again, even if they had somebody popped back up after they were left in ruins. He remembered they were obsessed with sanitation, and that was not… wherever this was. He did somewhat feel like he did after they took him, though, his entire body hurt and his head was a mess. If they'd stuck another chip in there….

"Oi. OI! Who's out there? Where am I?!" he shouted, but to no answer, and his head felt like it was about to split open. He couldn't see much from his cage door, and as another wave of nausea overcame him he buckled, leaning against the door then closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. He remembered the streets of Los Angeles, stalking a big demon from the ocean depths. He remembered catching up to the mountain of scales and muscles and a long, drawn out beating that had left him victorious, but only just barely. He'd stumbled back, unconscious before he hit the ground….

Then it was rock. Rock, and strange smells, and he couldn't see properly. There things everywhere, flying around him then focusing around a pair of demons he'd never seen before. He was someplace new, not even any of the smells had been right, but his life was in danger and he did what came natural to him. He fought until one of them blasted the hell out of him with some shrieking power, it felt like it was going to rip his entire body apart. His hand shot up to his ears, at that memory, and came away red. He was still bleeding, if he'd been human he'd have been dead long before. Even as it was he wasn't sure he'd be alive if the shouting had continued much longer.

And now he was here, somehow, locked up… He pulled off his coat and pulled up his shirt, looking down at himself. He was still messed up from the battle, the scars were fresh, but he'd be fine. He sat down heavily, back still against the bars. No use doing anything but looking, listening, maybe calling out once more, touching his ears and then tasting the blood. At least part of the nausea now was hunger… he had to find something to eat. Soon.

"Whoever the hell is trying something, you should know my captors tend to end up in little bitty pieces all over the sodding room. And I've only gotten grumpier and meaner the more times it's happened!"