It's all AU.

The Master looked up at the sunny sky in the middle of New New New New New York. And Growled.

"This is just shite."

Buffy was in a clearing in the woods, training. She'd gone for a run and knocked on the door of Corwen's little house to see if she was up for joining in, but she didn't appear to be home.

So she'd just run a bit further then stopped for a breather. She was practising twisting and thrusting, a stake in each hand.

The Master put a pile of clothing on the table- a leather jacket, a green jumper, and a pair of black jeans, and boots, then relaxed back in his chair and ordered a cup of tea.


Looking smug, and, perhaps, just a bit childish.

He spotted the familiar figure in black, walking down the street, headed roughly in his direction.

When he did he switched off the external monitors and slipped out of the TARDIS and leaned against the corner of his time machine and waited. When the Master was within reach he reached out, grabbed a handful of cloak and hauled him inside, with a surprising amount of strength and determination.

"Hello," he said, geninally, while he shoved the Master into a wall and yanked the doors closed behind them.

Buffy came into the hotel restaurant late in the evening after patrol, tucking her stake into the back of her waistband, and glancing round with an ironic gaze.

"So. Any cute guys around here who are a) straight and b) available?" she asked glibly.

Just when Samuel had thought the whole thing was a dream, he woke up back in the Hotel in a bed that was definitely not his own. He sat there sulking for a moment before he gave a overly-dramatic sigh and climbed out of the bed. If this was a dream, at least it was a pleasant one with comfortable sleeping and good food. With that his stomach growled very softly and he gave it a pat before pulling on his dressing gown. Ordinarily he wouldn't have dreamed of going out anywhere in pyjamas, but that really was another nice thing about being stuck here. So he went down to the restaurant and climbed into a chair, only to see the table was already taken. "Oh, sorry," he apologised with a sheepish look.

The Master was getting a feel for this place.

A confused feel, mostly, but a feel for this place. He'd lost the coat and was down to a black button up shirt and black velvet trousers. Casual in this most casual of unreal places, sitting by a window in a cafe with a cup of tea like that was normal. Staring at himself through the window as he walked by.

Jack was gazing into the window of a clothing store, at a mannequin wearing what appeared to be an exact replica of the coat the older Jack had been wearing.

Lucy was staring at a blue Police Box tucked away in a corner of the library. "Well. How long have you been there? And who do you belong to?"

The Master was, frankly enough, exploring. He hated not knowing where he was, what was going on. That kind of lack of control was alien and dismaying.

He stood at the edge of the boundary, stroking his beard and studying it with rapt attention, like he was seeing into it, every molecule.

It wasn't cold, but he drew his cloak around him a little tighter as he stepped into the light of the hotel hallway. His eyes were dark, and appraising, looking over the hotel lobby.

He stroked his fingers through his goatee and frowning, murmuring, "Not where I was, Rassilon."