Dog was sitting on the fountain, waiting for them. Whispering to himself, he suddenly shut up as soon as he heard the approaching footsteps. Looking up, he watched the two figures come out of the smog. His heart leapt at the familiar face and, quickly, he stood. She had been gone for some time, though how long he couldn't say. It was long enough for his hunger to return, long enough to miss her.

Looking up, Beatrice frowned. Little did she know, at her side, Dean was looking fairly content with himself. The spear in her hand was dragging on the ground behind her, bouncing and skitting along with a crisp sound. It was a threat. If it was a threat to Dog or the ghost people, Dean wasn't sure, but he was comfortable knowing that it at least wasn't for him. Oh yes, he was far too confident for his own good.

They had spoken quite a bit, chatted with ease and that look in her eyes never disappeared. It was the look of a fan, someone who would hang on his words. And he, himself, found that she made for a decent partner. She was strong, a survivalist, and smarter than she seemed. But more than that, she was funny and, dare he say, interesting.

"Human come back for Dog." He looked pleased, helpful. Almost like a child.

She wanted to be happy to see him, but something stopped it. There was a joy in his voice that she didn't want to disappoint, something eager and child-like she never wanted to hurt. He had trusted her, and she had trusted him. That seed of mistrust the Ghoul had planted stuck with her. It twisted in her mind.

She didn't respond to Dog, instead, she looked back to dean, smoothing her hair out of her face with a false sense of ease.

"Alright Dean darling, I believe this is where we part ways." She glanced to him, stopping a few feet from the fountain.

He stopped beside her, hands loosely shoved in his pockets. Head tilting back, he looked up to the hologram of the woman who still stood there. For a moment, he didn't even respond.

"Hmm? Oh yes, lovely. Take me out of my hiding spot and then just dump me."

"Sorry to break your heart, darlin', jus' somethin' that's gotta be done. I mean, unless you wanna come with me and face more spooks and death-defying feats, of course." And speaking of things that had to be done, Beatrice reached in to her pocket and withdrew her pipboy.

"Hmm, well, when you put it like that, perhaps I should stay in place. You'll be back for me anyway, partner." He chuckled, striding towards the fountain. "No woman can resist me."

"Mm, I'll keep that in mind." As Dean moved to look at the hologram, Beatrice moved towards Dog. "Dog, dear, are you ready to go back."

His excitement disappeared, her sweet words spoken between gritted teeth. "Dog not want to be put in cage again. Dog…Dog gets lonely."

"I know, but I'll let you out again, I promise. Do you trust me?"

"Of course Dog trust human Dog –."

"Bea." She cut him off to correct him again almost too tensely. Shooting a glance to Dean, she was sure he'd be paying attention, but he looked enraptured by the woman on the fountain, with her words.

Dog was stunned in to silence for a moment, then, he nodded. "Dog trust Bea." He paused again. There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words to express those thoughts. He made a whining sound in the back of his throat. "Dog…trust Bea lots. Dog like Bea. Bea nice and cares about Dog. Dog likes that. But, Dog not trust…other voice."

"I wouldn't worry about that." She lifted a hand to hit the play button and stopped. If God had been the one to kidnap her, maybe he still had some of her fatigues, or at least knew where they were. "Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to have a bandana in your pocket, would you?"

To that, Dog nodded happily. Hoping this would please Beatrice, he pulled out a dark green bandana and held it out to her. "Yes, yes Dog does!"

Taking the bandana, she brought it to her nose and held it there for a moment. It smelled like sunshine and dirt, like sarsaparilla and old sweat. Letting out the breath she had been holding, she folded it into a triangle, rolled the edge, and tied it over her head. Her messy, awkwardly chopped bangs stayed in place, but the bandana kept the rest of her hair from falling in to her face. She felt more like herself.

However, the fact that this was proof was not lost on her. She didn't know why God had decided to keep her bandana on him, but it was one clear indicator that he had been the one to take her.

His strong hands had pressed the bomb collar so tightly around her throat that it cut her.

She let out a shaky breath.

"Alright, ready?"

Reaching out, Dog tried to take her hand in his and watched her recoil. He didn't try again. Instead, he gave one final nod.

She hit the button.

"Dog, back in the cage." The recording played aloud and she watched the shift happen before her eyes. If she had doubted the duel sides of the Nightkin before, she didn't any more.

He shifted, posture straightening up. He blinked his mismatched eyes then glared down at Beatrice. If looks could kill, she would have been in serious trouble right then.

However, this time, she didn't shy away. This time, she glared right back at him.

No, no she couldn't find comfort in his face or his voice again. He was the one who did this to her. He was the one who grabbed her unconscious body and dragged her here knowing what was going to happen. It was rage boiling under her skin that she felt, shooting through her veins. She wanted to quell it, god she wanted to rub her arms until it went away, but she couldn't. Her temper, while it hadn't gotten the better of it, it had made her painfully stubborn.

"You locked me away." He spoke quietly, voice little more than a growl. This was a tone she knew already, the tone that said he wasn't going to bend, the tone that said he expected her to. She had always bent to his will thus far, had always let him have his way.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she looked at him for just a moment before turning away. "Yeah well, tough snack cakes."

She heard the shock in his silence.

She heard her footsteps as she trailed a way. She was being stubborn, she knew it. But that was what she had to do. That was the reason she was alive. All this time she had been too stubborn to die. Starvation couldn't beat her, radiation couldn't beat her, and this place wouldn't break her. These people wouldn't hurt her.

Grinding her teeth, aching for bubblegum, Beatrice was unaware of any noise save for the sound of her own humming. She didn't dare turn her radio on, no, that would draw too much attention, but in her head she could hear the music. She could hear the noise and feel the warmth of vibrations in her throat. She was alone. She was without God or Dog, without Dean, and now she could finally stop thinking.

The ground shook slightly from heavy steps and, for a moment, her mind reverted. In a split second she remembered the dozens if not hundreds of times something had chased her down. In a split second, she was prepared to face down a raging deathclaw or supermutant and lose. She was always prepared to lose. Every day she was prepared to die.

"Stop." The commanding tone in his voice was loud enough to reverberate off the walls around them, careless as to what the noise drew to them.

She didn't comply. "Come on babe, you got at least half 'a control of that rotted brain of yours, surely even you understand walkin' way means I don't wanna chat with you. Wanna talk, go talk to yourself, you seem to be pretty good at that."

That was when he was supposed to leave her alone. That was when he was supposed to leave her to seethe in her own silence. This was the rabid dog growling at the hand reaching towards it, baring teeth in a threat to snap.

The Nighkin did not back away.

He grabbed her shoulder. As soon as he did it, he knew he shouldn't have. No, he was the calm one. He was the controlling and articulate one, the one who didn't understand the bloodlust of the Nightkin. But there he was, restraining her, forcing her to turn and face him for reasons he couldn't put words to. He felt the rage of Dog boiling under his skin and, for a moment, he was worried he might come out without the audio stimulation.

Calming his own breathing, he looked at her, watched her yank her shoulder from this grip with primal aggression, aggression he saw in Dog every day. There was fire in her eyes and she huffed out of her nose like a bull preparing to charge.

She had been different, or, that was what he told himself. She had rationalized with him, had told him that she wasn't here for the treasure. Beatrice held promise, hope that he had previously denied himself. He was reminded as to why he hated people. He hated their empty words, their selfish actions, their belief that they could break out from things.

They didn't understand.

"Stop this." He growled. "You are being a child, a fool. You act like I am the one with two faces yet I fear you have many more. Do you think these actions will do you any good? Do you think that all of this fighting will get you anywhere? You are just like Elijah, all of you humans are weak, fighting for something that doesn't matter, for greed that will get you nowhere. You fight to escape but you don't see, the world's always got another cage, waiting, keeping everything you want just out of reach."

"Don't you dare touch me." She spat the words with a dangerous tone. There was a crisp sound that cut the air and, before either of them could realize what had happened, her spear was angled at him, the jabbing motion she made leaving it only inches from his face. "Don't you dare fuckin' talk to me like yer so much better than some fuckin' human like me. Dean told me, you're the one who slapped this fuckin' thing 'round my neck. You know what? I've done some really shitty things in my life but at least I've never kidnapped someone, slapped a bomb on them, then pretended to be their friend."

She wanted him to yell at her. Instead, he lifted a hand and wrapped it around her spear. In his hand, it looked like nothing but a toothpick. There was a darkness in his features she had never seen before. "We were never friends." With a twist of his wrist, he snapped the top of her spear off and let the end clatter to the ground, leaving her with nothing but a broom handle.

As she stepped back, he stepped forward, invading her space and towering over her. "If you want to treat me as a monster, I will become one. Are you still afraid of me, human?"

She withdrew her pipboy from her pocket, staring at him though she sunk down. "No." The shaking in her voice could either be attributed to fear or rage and not even she could tell which it was.

"You would dare turn to Dog? You fear me that much?" He barked a laugh that made her blood run cold. Grasping her wrist, he held her hand still, his grip not quite bruising. He considered breaking that as well, but stopped. His grip loosened. "You won't do it."

"Try me." She tried to rip her wrist from his grip but couldn't quite pull it out.

He let her struggle until she finally slowed. Watching her breathe hard through her nose, through gritted teeth, he waited until he saw her calm down. They stood in relative silence, her hard breaths cutting through the air. She still looked pissed, ready to knock his teeth in, but she didn't fight his grip any longer. Then, he spoke.

"The singer told you that I'm the one who did this?" He asked. She gave a nod.

"And you believed him?" His gripped tightened in irritation and she winced, knees bending slightly in pain. She gave another nod. "You believed him over me? You would think I would do that? Follow orders? No. You mistake me for the mongrel. Out of all the people I thought would do that, you are not one of them, Beatrice. If I wished to make you bend to my will, I would not require anything more than my hands to do so."

He released her and she grabbed her wrist, holding the aching bone. Glaring up at him in retaliation, she bared her teeth but did not speak.

"I expected better of you."

And this time, it was his turn to walk away, move back to the fountain.

Beatrice turned away from him. Her heart was racing, and part of her wished he had snapped her wrist so she wouldn't be the one in the wrong. She had messed up and she knew it.

"Motherfucker."

Still stubborn, not quite knowing what to think or how to let go of the situation, she continued on her way. If Dog and God hated her, if Dean had lied, it didn't matter. She had a job to finish and she'd get it done no matter the cost.