It's all AU.

Spike set down the breakfast tray on the side table and scrambled up onto the bed to straddle Lane and lean down to wake him up with a smacking great kiss.

Lane had finally fallen asleep after another long run. Legs aching, he'd showered and fallen into bed naked, dropping quickly off into a deep sleep.

Once he heard the doorknob rattle, though, he was struggling awake among the tangled sheets.

Spike lay on his back on a blanket in a field not far from the town, head pillowed on his arms, gazing up at the stars. Beside him was a coolbox of beer (and juice, because it didn't hurt to be prepared) and a basket with picnic food. And a small bag with a few other supplies.

He'd left a note for Lane to tell him where to find him, but he was prepared to wait. He was perfectly content to gaze up at the sky, taking the occasional sip of beer and listening to the sounds of the night. This was his time and he felt at home.

Feeling restless and a bit guilty for his recent laziness, Lane had changed into track pants and a t-shirt for a run. It was good to feel the pound of the pavement beneath his running shoes, feel the air in his lungs as he worked his way through the empty streets.

The lack of moving obstacles had lulled him into a false sense of security - so when he turned at the corner of a low brick building and came face-to-face with someone, his only option was to shift right and hope they stayed on their predetermined course.

But Lane misjudged and he stumbled, his momentum sending him glancing off the someone and into an undignified sprawl on the sidewalk.

Lane was enjoying the cool night air, seated on the same bench he'd been at before, when he'd run into The Master. It may or may not have been intentional, last time.
This time it was most intentional.

Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he waited, trying not to imagine his posture with bared throat as that much of an offering to anyone else who happened by.

Lane took a last look around the corridor and knocked with a special code on one of the hotel room doors, waiting and listening for movement inside.

The Master had finally given in and investigated the sewers. He'd poked a bit, decided perhaps a little too quickly that there were no vampires down there, and emerged gratefully into the sunlight, removing his handkerchief from over his nose and gazing down mournfully at his previously spotless, and now ruined, shoes.

Spike was pacing round and round the bedroom, fed-up and just about ready to hit something. He'd been stuck inside for days, ever since the incident in the warehouse. He hadn't dared tell Lane what had happened, but he hadn't dared set foot outside either, not after only narrowly escaping from the warehouse before Jack, the Doctor and the Master had come back to deal with him. He'd put his coat over his head and made a run for it, dodging into building after building till he got back to the hotel, and he'd been stuck ever since.

He cast a disgruntled look round at the lovely room he and Lane had chosen, that had almost magically appeared for them. Even a huge tub and a massive bed lost their lustre after days of nothing else.

He heard a sound at the door and froze, listening hard, and only relaxing once he was certain it was Lane returning.

Yawning, Lane made his way back toward Spike's room with a tray of coffee cups. His sleep patterns didn't know which way was up anymore, though he seemed to be aligning himself with sleeping during the day lately.
So not that far off normal, then. Breakfast in late afternoon wasn't uncommon back home.

Balancing the tray on one palm, he opened the door and pushed through, careful not to spill any coffee - or blood.

Lane let go of the sitting room door and let it close behind him. He turned and engaged the lock, even as flimsy as it was. Sometimes it was all about intention.

After a breath to steady himself, he turned to Spike, who stood with his back still to him in the center of the room.

"I suppose that's why demons have done such a bang up job taking over humanity? Everything has to adapt, Spike, or it dies. And I'd really rather you stuck around for what time we have together, 'cause I'm not so sure everyone is as benign as this place would like us to believe."

Lane didn't move closer, waiting for a response. "With our without your abilities, I think we're both outpowered, here."

((A place to put more threads, since some people are having trouble with loading large pages))

The Master was sitting at one of the tables savoring a shot of whiskey as he waited for people to show up. He'd traded out of his usual politician's suit, for a longer, more closely tailored knee length jacket, and had actually lost the tie. The white rose remained pinned, of course.

Everything was set up. Tables, large enough for 4 or 5 people to sit comfortably, around the outside of the room. Food and open bar at the far wall from the doors. And still a fairly large space in the middle for dancing. It was going to be interesting to see how many people showed up, because frankly he wasn't sure what the population of the town was. He couldn't help but wonder, given the malleable and mind bending nature of the this place - if more people showed up then could really fit, would the room mysteriously seem bigger? It wasn't a completely absurd idea, here.

As predicted, there were no Doctors with red roses and black converses in sight, yet.

Spike was up on the roof again. Not the hotel roof, because there was pretty much always one Jack or another in residence up there. And not the warehouse roof, because that held bad memories. He'd found another decently high roof, across the other side of the town, of some sort of office building, and he was gazing out over the town, breathing in the cool night air and occasionally swigging from the bottle of vodka dangling from his hand.

( Cut for length and relevance. )

He ended up sitting on a nearby lobby couch, leaning over with his head in his hands as he tried to get his head into a place where he could even deal. Was he back because he'd dared wish he could come back? He'd nearly convinced himself it was all some elaborate dream, reaching for anything that could explain it.

At least he was dressed this time, if you also counted the armored suit under his street clothes.
He heard someone approach and stand in front of him, felt the pull of their presence, but didn't look up yet. He didn't want to know right now-he was still getting his mind around being back here.

Feeling almost... chipper after his encounter with Jack, Lane decided it was time to try one of those sparkly drinks he'd seen others with. He'd watched a few being made and hoped like hell he was doing it right, considering never had the time or inclination to get very familiar with alcohol in his year on Earth.
It looked close enough when he was done, so he took a sip and enjoyed the kick and burn of the silvery concoction as he took a look around the bar.

( Cut for length )

Opening the door, he peered out into the hallway, slipping out when he didn't see anyone, heading towards what appeared to be the end of the hall, and the stairs, the length of metal rod from the lamp held close to his body as he walked, keeping his limbs loose, ready to fight, or more likely run, if he had to.

He got the Professor settled in his room, then started pacing slowly through the halls. He was tired, working his way back toward exhausted, but it wasn't because he needed to sleep. It was because he'd been collecting and organizing and explaining for days now. There was enough work there for two of him, and one of them wasn't pulling their weight.

He didn't really mind. He accepted the responsibility for the people that were his, even the ones he didn't remember and hadn't met, and the ones he did know, but didn't know him, and the ones he just plain didn't like much. They were all his, and making sure they knew where they were, how to feed themselves and somewhere to sleep was the least he could do.

His nerves were fraying, though, and settling down for the night wasn't an option. He didn't need sleep, anyway. So, he wandered the halls of the hotel, then he wandered the streets of the town. It was quiet, the starlight milky and diffuse, but more than enough to see by, even without the street-lamps. With them the light was eerie and white, and he had no problem at all spotting a figure at the end of the street.

"Hey," he called, as he approached. His hands in his pockets, stance and voice casual, but his eyes were locked on the other hand, and he was definitely wired enough to be just a little careful. Even if he hadn't met anyone here who warranted much caution.

Lane finally found a library - volumes of books from floor to ceiling, couches, overstuffed armchairs and tables with lamps scattered here and there. The lack of dust was a clue to something, but he couldn't place it just yet - other than everything appeared a bit too perfect. Best way to make an uneasy crowd was to give them everything they wanted... lull them into a state of complacency.
With a shrug he perused the titles until he found one that would at least make him feel like he was doing something about figuring out what was going on with this place and settled onto one of the couches.
After while he saw movement near the door and glanced up, flicking a polite grin in greeting.

What Lane needed was somewhere to grab a nap and get his bearings a little. Put some walls between him and everyone else. He'd overheard enough conversations to know that they'd all been pulled into this place through the same method - simply walking through a door. But here didn't seem to be Earth, and that took a bit for him to wrap his mind around. It was one thing to fall between different dimensions and land on the same basic principles, but quite another to be tossed into a situation with no landmarks.
More versions of people already present seemed to be filtering in, along with others that he couldn't put a name to. Some seemed to know each other, or at least be able to connect themselves to something familiar. It put everyone on a level plane and at least that was one thing in his favor.

Finding his way down a long hallway of numbered doors, he chose one at random and let himself in.

"Oh, sorry," he murmured and tried his best to keep his stance casual. "Didn't know this one was already occupied."

"I'll be right back! I promise!" Estelle said, laughing and breathless as she separated from the tall boy who kept trying to draw her into another dance. "I just need to freshen up!"

She caught Louisa's attention and waved to let her know she was OK before she headed back down toward the first floor and the ladies reception area. She was about to push the door open when a light from a nearby window caught her attention. She glanced upstairs, biting her lip. It wouldn't do any harm to see what it was; it might even be important. She walked as quickly as she could toward the door, unnoticed by those having quiet conversations at small tables.

It was chilly tonight and Estelle wrapped her arms around herself as the cold seeped through her dress. The light was just ahead and she walked toward it as if drawn.

"Hello? Is someone there? Can you turn off that light please, so I can see?" She reached out, fingertips just barely caressing the shimmering shapes....

* * *

"Oh."

Estelle looked around, blinking in surprise. This definitely wasn't the dance hall in Cardiff. In fact, she was pretty sure it wasn't any building in Cardiff she'd be in.

"Excuse me," she said to the stranger passing by. "Could you please tell me where this is?"