"It was not supposed to happen like this."
"You are blaming me? How could I have foreseen this?"
"You were the one that drove the Kalderash into cursing him!" The first entity crackled with anger, her essence dark and agitated.
"They were not supposed to create the loophole," the second entity protested, as agitated as the first. "And the Slayer was never supposed to fall in love with him."
Lightning flickered through her presence and her voice snapped and lashed with power. "Now you are accusing me? I was told to bring them together. Nothing was said of love. And you know we are never to interfere with true love."
"Whoever's fault it is," he said swiftly, attempting to redirect her ire, "We must do something to salvage this. They were never meant to end up there."
"As long as they are in that hell they are useless to us," she agreed. "We must find a way to bring them out."
"If we were to interfere directly, the Others would not be pleased," he reminded her.
"Then we must find another way to bring them home," she retorted.
*****
The darkness lifted slowly. The first thing he noticed was that the pain was gone. He felt strange without it, buoyant and unreal. He spent an eternity trying to remember how to move his limbs and eventually managed to open his eyes. He hissed in pain and screwed them tight again. The light was blinding. He lay unmoving on a hard surface and waited for his body to catch up with his mind.
A short distance away, he heard a faint groan and a quiet scrape. He opened his eyes again, squinting against the brilliance. A crumpled body, clad in dark clothes, lay within arm's reach. The other's face was hidden by a fall of blonde hair but he could tell it was female and there was something…familiar about her.
She seemed to be as sluggish as he felt, trying to figure out how to use a body that had lain in disuse for…days? Years? There was no way to tell.
"Crap."
The single, muttered word seemed so out of place that he frowned involuntarily. The woman beside him lifted her head, her hair falling back to reveal her features. His dead, unbeating heart flipped over in his chest.
Was this a new game? Some twisted new torment invented in place of the old one? She blinked hazel-green eyes at him, her expression blank with shock.
"Angel?" Buffy whispered. "What—?" Her mouth opened and closed silently for a moment, and then she blurted, "You're not dead!"
He continued to lay staring at her and wondered when the pain would begin, when he would be forced to kill her.
"How are you not dead?" she asked. "I killed you." Tears sprang to her eyes. "Over and over again. A hundred different ways."
He blinked, confused by her words. She had killed him, hadn't she? In the mansion, in front of the statue of Acathla. It's what had sent him here.
"Angel? Can you hear me?"
He focused on her face, twisted into a mask of bemusement. She seemed to be waiting for something. She had asked him a question, hadn't she? "Yes," he replied after a long moment of concentration. He frowned with effort and managed to ask, "Am I going to kill you again?"
"What are you talking about?" she whispered.
"That's how this always happens," he told her wearily. "The demon makes me kill you."
"You aren't making any sense, Angel," she said, shaking her head slightly.
"Neither are you," he felt it necessary to point out.
She closed her eyes as if exhausted. When she opened them, her gaze traveled past him. "Where are we?" she asked softly.
He found that he had enough energy to sit up. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. They were lying out in the open. They were surrounded by a rocky, desolate landscape, blasted and void of life. Above them, roiling, black clouds filled the red sky. A sickly light was on the place, despite the fact there was no sun.
"Hell?" he offered with no trace of humor.
She shivered. "I never thought it would be so cold in hell."
He looked at her again and frowned. This was by far the strangest method of torture had endured. Was he supposed to pity her? How could he feel empathy for a figment, a phantasm?
He got slowly to his feet and looked around. I'd rather be back in the darkness, he thought dryly. Beside him, she also achieved an upright position, but she swayed and grabbed his arm for support.
"How—how did we get here?" she asked without letting go her hold. "Did we come here through Acathla's portal?"
"You sent me here," he told her without malice. Yet she still flinched and released his arm.
"I-I had no choice," she said brokenly. "Your blood…it was the only way to close the portal."
He nodded, not really caring. Instead, he scanned the horizon, searching for some clue as to what he should do next. With a shrug both mental and physical, he picked a direction and began walking.
"Where are you going?" she called.
"I don't know," he replied without looking back. After a moment, he heard her footsteps as she ran after him. Together, silent, they set off across the nightmare landscape.