It's all AU.

Spike was bored. And lonely. And missing Lane like crazy. Not just the warm body in his bed and the fresh human blood to drink, but the companionship, the love. For all that he pretended to be the Big Bad, he wasn't good at being on his own.

He was wandering through the city, scowling and kicking at things, throwing the odd can or small rock, and pretty obviously looking for a fight.

As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd just buried his brother, Sam found himself in...he didn't even know where. The last time this had happened, he'd ended up dead and Dean had had to go and make that damn deal. And now Dean was dead - fucking ripped apart before his very eyes and Sam hadn't be able to do a single thing about it.

He tensed up and looked around slowly. "Where the hell am I?"

John was in his usual uniform, somewhat sweaty and grubby from weapons training. He was checking his sword for imaginary dints, sitting back against a tree, at rest under it. It was early evening, at least what passed for it around here, and there was a chill in the air.

Senses heightened in the dark, John was instantly aware when a twig was snapped beside a nearby tree. He didn't move, and carried on with what he was doing.

"It's polite to say hello, you know?" he drawled nonchalantly.

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.

( Cut for length )

He scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them still, not particularly looking where he was going.

Ianto had left a message in the hotel lobby for Spike before heading towards the cottage in the park, his jacket hooked over his shoulder as he tilted his head back to squint at the brightly-lit sky. No way to tell time here, but he would have a while, he thought, before Spike showed up. Long enough to get things set up.

( Cut for length )

Warning: Blood, lots of blood.

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.

The night, at least, was still quiet, and soothing, as Ianto padded through the park, his shoes in hand, and jacket abandoned somewhere further back, hung off a tree. It wasn't like he'd need to worry about it, not if he couldn't remember this place when he returned home. He scowled, and dropped the shoes at the base of a tree before he threw them, sliding his hands into his pockets instead as he kept on walking.

His knife was back in his pocket, though he had yet to see Jack since the incident in the hotel lobby. That he'd been making himself hard to find by walking all over this place might have had something to do with that, though. He pressed his lips together, shoving the entire tangle away for now.

A whisper-soft sound drew his attention, and Ianto slowed his step, angling for a large tree he could put his back to. Listening for any sound of another person out here with him.

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.

It was night and Spike was out again, enjoying having the freedom of the town again after so long cooped up inside.

A burst of laughter leaked out from a bar as he passed, and he paused, cocked his head, and then headed inside. He'd missed bars too.

He headed up to the bar and got the bardroid's attention. "Pint of bitter and a pint of blood, mate."

It was shortly after nightfall.

The Doctor was restless, so he walked the streets to burn some energy, singing softly, just barely audible - "And when I look into the sky at night I want to go out and chase the stars
And like the catcher in the rye, I want stay where you are, I want to stay..."

He feel silent and slowed when he felt someone coming near, and glanced over his shoulder.

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.

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.

Spike was trapped in an empty warehouse. He'd been out for a stroll and, his sense of time being as off as everyone else's in this place, dawn had caught him unawares. His skin had been smoking by the time he'd ducked into the warehouse, and his disgust when he discovered it was completely empty and he had all day to kill had been immense. He'd slept for a bit, but he wasn't that tired, so he'd taken to stomping round and round the interior, pausing occasionally to take out his frustration on a wall or a bit of debris.

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.

Finally, the Master was ready to post his notice for the party. He pinned it to a large bulletin board easily viewable in the hotel lobby. In careful flowing calligraphy it read,

"All are cordially invited

To an evening of conversation, food, drinking, music, and dancing

In the company of fellow visitors and semi-residents

Located at the hotel ballroom beginning at dusk tomorrow

Dress up is highly encouraged

Less than civilized behavior while in attendance not tolerated

With warm regards,

Koschei (who will be dressed in style) & Theta Sigma (who will probably be late)"

He was trying really hard not to laugh, as he stood back and looked at it. Ok, he laughed. And then wandered off, with a stupidly happy grin on his face.