They had their orders and with a few quick moments, they all had decided what was to be done. Which was to say, Beatrice had told them what she was going to do and they were to just play along. She wasn't usually the sort to take charge, she never cared to have responsibility, but if keeping them alive meant saving her own skin, then so be it. The redhead had dished out food to the bald woman and Dean, had given them water and, in the Ghoul's case, cigarettes. They'd be moving soon, but she needed to have them in their best condition if they were going to get things done fast.

That left God.

He sat alone, hadn't said a word to her since she returned. Mismatched eyes watched her, glowering as his face contorted in a sneer that left her blood running cold. She watched him, apprehension more than clear in her eyes made all the more sharp by the dark rings that were beginning to form under them. It would have been easy to ignore him and they both knew it, to pull Dog out of his cage and be done with it because Dog wouldn't hate Beatrice. Dog wouldn't hurt her, Dog would obey her.

She had the power to ruin it all, and that made him hate her.

Why hadn't she just done it already? Why didn't she just take Dog out?

He growled as she moved towards him and she felt ice twist its way through her veins. Still, she sat beside him, leaning against the wall of the building behind them.

She looked down and neither of them moved, their posture rigid. He stared at the holograph on the fountain, squinted as he watched Dean smoke and the bald girl stare up at the Madre. There was the sound of crinkling plastic and he finally looked at the woman with fire for hair. She was holding a bag out to him. His frown deepened but he took it. Turning it over in his large hands, he frowned at the bag of chips.

Food was scarce where she came from, he knew that, could tell by the way she ate and horded it. The fact that she was giving it to him was a more than clear peace offering. Still, they both remained silent for minutes that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

"I see the way you look at me. You're apprehensive. Still afraid I'm going to break your bones one at a time?" He was the one who broke the silence, baiting her, wanting her to snap once more to prove his point.

She was an animal.

"No." Her answer was soft, lacking its normal vigor.

"Why?" He asked, voice low and cold.

She didn't respond for a moment. Her head angled back until it leaned against the wall and she looked up at the low hanging clouds. He looked at the expanse of her throat that showed above the collar, at the blood that had dried on the metal. She was in pain, she had to be, but it didn't show in her features. She was chained just as he was, resilient. Seeming to mull her words over carefully, she absently scratched at her neck with broken and sharp nails.

Then, she had her answer.

"If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already." Her head lulled and she looked up at that grizzled and scarred face of his. It was harsh and just as cold as she expected it to be. "I know you didn't deserve that I just…don't wanna be here."

His eyes left hers and went to the bag of chips. He popped it open. The smell of salty chips made her mouth water. Beatrice wouldn't say anything, but she had given all she had to the others. She had always put her tribe before herself and some part of her mind saw this as the same.

They were her tribe, her family.

"This is why I hate Elijah."

The words startled her from her thoughts and empty stomach. God wasn't watching her any more. He was staring at the chips in his hand.

"No, hate isn't a strong enough word for how I feel about him. The thought of him alone makes everything go red. He does this, makes Dog gather others, drag them here…fetch like an animal and…hurt them if they resist." He spoke so gravely, so softly no one else could hear. The pure loathing in his voice hurt her. "Dog doesn't even blink, even hear their cries when he's twisted their arms full circle…fragile things, screaming on the ground…." He droned off then, leaving it there. He could still hear them, still see them from his cage but there was never anything he could do.

God didn't bring people here, he never would, and he would have stopped Dog had the creature not silenced him with pain, drowning him out with Elijah's voice.

And that was why it had hurt so much when Beatrice accused him of such awful things. Like she didn't know how hard he had fought to keep her safe from Dog's hunger.

Drawing her knees up, Beatrice draped her arms on them, hands limp. "You don't hate Dog, do you?"

He shut his eyes. "I've watched over Dog for so long. Tried to stop him from…hurting others, killing them," he made a disgruntled sound, words filling with old anger, "quiet that mindless howling instinct of his. He doesn't understand. He has the brain of a child…he knows when he does wrong, he just can't help himself."

"You want to protect him."

"He's my brother - kin. Without him I…wouldn't be here."

He sounded tired and there was no denying it. Letting the information mull around in her head, Beatrice pulled out a package of insta-mash and dumped the rest of half a bottle of water in it. She had tried to save it for later, for when she was really hungry, but patience was not a virtue she had. Shaking it to mix it up, she waited until it thickened and ate to quell the pain in her stomach.

"I get it." The redhead finally spoke, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

He finally looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I get it." She repeated again, looking at him. The charismatic light was gone from her eyes, the shield that kept people from getting too close replaced with something genuine. "I…had someone close to me who did that. A few of people actually. They destroyed everything they came in contact with, they ate the world and swallowed it whole. They hurt people without care, themselves, their friends, and-."

"You." He finished.

Beatrice nodded. When she spoke, her voice was tense. "Yeah. I'm not sayin' we're anythin' alike. We aren't. But I'm just sayin' I get it. I'm also sayin' that I've known people like you. People who let rage consume them, obsession drill holes in their mind. You want to kill Elijah. You think that'll fix it, make things better, but I promise you it won't. The hate will still be there. You'll burn yourself up."

She had seen it happen and the look she gave him was a sad one. It looked wrong on her features. Sorrow made her eyes look too real. The look on her face made something in him stir, a desire to fix whatever had happened, to repair her wounds and sympathize with her as she had tried to do with him.

God grunted in response.

Standing, she dusted off her pants and looked at him. In a moment, her walls had come back up, replacing the sensitive moment with the expression he was accustomed to seeing. The sparkle was back, her crooked smile finding its way back on to her face. She had done it so often, pretended so long that it looked natural on her face. Any other expression just didn't belong. Sucking in a breath, she turned her attention to him and him alone.

"Are we going, then?" He asked.

Her grin widened at the question. He was still willing to travel with her and that was all she needed to know. She liked him for this fact. She liked him because he forgave so easy. He didn't pretend to be someone he wasn't. He wasn't like her. "Missed wanderin' 'round with me sweetie?" When he didn't respond to her taunting, she turned away. "We're headin' to the south side of Salida del Sol." She spoke the name with a roll of her tongue, the Spanish blooming and catching life.

He watched her walk for a moment, her hair bouncing with each step.

"Jus' stay close to me 'n we'll be fine." She spoke to him without looking over her shoulder.

He was there, she knew he would be, she felt his form behind her. His response was slow, almost amused. Even then, there was still something dark to his words. "If you're sure."

Adjusting her headband, then her bear-trap fist, she looked back to check on the other two one last time. Dean seemed to be amusing himself with a book he had found and Christine was wandering about the fountain, staring at it. The thing that caught her attention was the fact that her path strategically avoided the singer.

How odd.

Ignoring that, Beatrice moved forward. Salida del Sol wouldn't be too hard to navigate, she was sure.

"God get back!" He didn't hear her, or, at the very least, didn't bother to listen.

The smell of blood was in the air, the electric charge of fighting. He charged at one of the ghost people as Beatrice ducked to avoid a spear. Grabbing it as it was jabbed at her, she twisted, flipping the creature over before she grabbed the weapon from them, stabbing the blade in the throat before giving it a twist to sever the head.

She had seen the explosive lobbed towards them from a trap that was triggered, saw it bounce on the ground a few feet in front of him and he had not. In a split second she had lunged forward. Grabbing the chain around his neck she yanked him backwards with all of her effort and felt him fight it.

She choked him and he made a gagging sound. Turning on his foot to try and maintain his balance, he went to turn his rage to Beatrice when she tugged down just as the explosion sounded.

She hit the ground. Sulfur filled her nose and her ears were ringing so loudly she couldn't hear anything. Eyes shut, she didn't move. Not that she could if she had wanted to. The blast had forced God back so suddenly he didn't have time to correct himself and he landed on top of her. He shielded her from the blast on accident but managed to bruise her up pretty well.

For a moment, God was just as stunned. Laying there, he felt her elbow awkwardly jabbing in to his back, his skin aching, vision distorted. Huffing out a breath from between his teeth, the Nightkin lifted from her and rose to his feet. Looking around, he breathed hard, ragged as he scanned the area. The bomb trap had managed to kill the last ghost person, but more were to come. They were drawn to sound, to light. They were hungry monsters and Beatrice was sure to make a good feast for them.

He expected to hear her laugh at the excitement of it all, or maybe hear her complain as she trudged forward to continue their mission, but she did neither. Strange. When he didn't see her jump to her feet and lead on, he looked back at her.

One hand on the ground, the other with the bear trap glove rested on her leg. She was half way sitting up, making quiet sounds of discomfort.

He lifted an eyebrow and she glanced at him. Her frown deepened.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking." The sarcasm in her airy voice was practically palpable. Beatrice lifted on to her feet and winced, pressing on the metal plating that covered her ribcage. "Dios Mio, yeah, that's gonna hurt in the morning."

"Are you okay, Beatrice?"

She snorted. "Yeah, I'm fine I already sai- woah." She cut herself off as she stumbled slightly, lifting a hand to hold it to her face. The world had suddenly gone fuzzy, vision blurring and shifting as though she were back on buffout only without the pleasant high. Standing there, she stared at the ground, watching it twist and turn as the ringing returned, louder than ever.

God looked moderately concerned. He stepped forward. "What's wrong?"

"What?" She called all too loudly. She was loud as it was, but now she was practically yelling.

God grumbled. "Stop yelling, you'll draw attention."

"What? I can't hear you. The world's spinnin' faster than a stripper on a pole with daddy iss-mmph!"

The Nightkin had pressed a large thumb to her lips, holding her strong chin in the process to keep her still while shutting her up. He frowned at her. "Beatrice." He said slowly. "Hush."

Her brows furrowed, knitting together as she glared at him. He watched as she winced again, another jolt of pain shooting through her head. His thumb pressed a little firmer against her mouth.

However, the Nightkin had held on to her for too long.

Pain jolted through his hand as Beatrice sunk her teeth in to the pad of his thumb. She bit down- hard. Her teeth were sharp, jaw strong, and he was fairly sure she had actually bitten fingers off before. He yanked his hand back, scraping the thick skin across her ivories in the process. As her tongue darted out to clean the small smear of blood off of her lips, he glared at her.

She didn't have to explain, after all, he already knew. He had tried to control her, and she had retaliated, warned him not to try that again. Maybe he should have been offended, but she had held back. If she had wanted to really hurt him, she would have.

The ringing had stopped and she rubbed her face again, letting out a heavy breath. "Come on, let's get moving before more 'a those things come along."

She took another step and had to stop again. She swayed, grinding her teeth.

He touched her shoulder to steady her, watching her flinch. "When did you last sleep?"

"First day I was here."

"Beatrice." He sounded like he was scolding her.

"What?" She shrugged his hand off, continuing on.

"You can hardly walk straight." He trailed alongside her, taking slow steps.

"That ain't the sleep." She waved off his concern. "That's the Cloud. Stuff gets to you, well, maybe not you, but I'm a lot more fragile than you are."

"I would hardly call you fragile."

She grinned back at him and even then he could see the exhaustion beginning to pull at her expressive features. "Ya know just how to smooth talk a girl, don't ya God?" She laughed and the warm, boisterous sound turned in to aggressive coughing that made her brace her hand on her ribs, the cold metal biting in to her fingers.

He didn't have to say anything. God watched as her expression turned sheepish and face away from him. "Alright, maybe you have a point. 'F we can find a place that isn't drenched in smog, we'll rest for the night."

She hadn't expected them to be able to find anything, not in Salida del Sol. The place was more dangerous than the Villa, crawling with the dead, filled with traps and smoke, but God's luck was better than hers, his eyes more attentive. Part of her wished he hadn't found the relatively clean apartment complex. Her mind was rushing even as she followed him inside, going through everything she needed to do. Get God to the switches, then she had to run around and position Dean and Christine which would take a good bit of effort. Then what? Go inside the Madre? Or would Elijah let her go as soon as it was open? He'd have no reason to keep her there and she had no reason to stay.

The treasure, whatever was in there, she didn't want it.

She didn't want it.

But, maybe she wanted to know what it was.

The idea was tantalizing and maybe the Madre had something else within it. The place had an odd sort of beauty, she had to admit.

"Why are you here?" God posed the question as Beatrice dug through the drawers in the bedroom.

She stopped and squinted at him. Had he been reading her mind? No, chances were good that he, in fact, was just oddly curious about her. Shutting the door, she answered.

"Because I was gassed and Dog put a collar on me, remember?"

He made that grumbling sound in the back of his throat again, the one that reverberated in his chest. "That is not what I meant." She should have known that and she probably did, however, she also had an ornery streak that still annoyed him.

"What does it matter?" She asked the question as she dropped down on to the bed, letting her head flop back against the moldy pillow.

"People like you, they don't come here. Everyone else was like the entertainer, greedy and manipulative, or the broken doll, here for a personal vendetta. But you…you don't belong."

She shut her eyes. "That's why I'm gonna get the hell outta here. Go back to my home, have a drink, see my friends."

"And you think everything will be the same? You think you will be able to go back to your life as it was?" He moved towards the door to leave her be, to keep watch. "This place will change you, Beatrice. It already has."

The door shut behind him.