Chapter 14: Monsters of Chaos

The Hyperion was in darkness.

Angel had followed Spike down to the garage and given him the keys to the delivery entrance, together with instructions about how to find Fred's room. Not like I need them, grumbled Spike to himself, as he pushed the heavy door open and listened to the protesting squeal of its rusty hinges. I could track her anywhere, now. She 's giving off so many distress signals, it's like the sinking of the bloody Titanic. He switched on the security light and squinted through the dust-laden air, inhaling deeply.

"Yup! Door to the left, then up the main staircase," he chanted, repeating the directions Angel had given him.

As he passed through the inner lobby door, a slight noise from behind stopped him in his tracks. He reached backwards and yanked a figure out of the small alcove beside a second door.

"Oh, it's you. What are you doing skulking around after me, young Frankenstein?" he asked, recognising the young man who worked in Fred's lab.

"Following you to find Fred, " replied Knox with a slight smile. "We need her."

Spike frowned. "Yeah? And just who might we be?"

"Shhh – what's that?" Knox jumped at the sound of a dull thump from above their heads.

"Stay here," Spike ordered. "Anything comes down those stairs that isn't me or Fred hit i. . ." Spike looked disparagingly at the young scientist. "Hide."

Knox didn't argue, but as Spike sprinted away up the stairs, scaling them in a few bounds, he crept up towards the source of the noise that had startled him. In the dark corridor, light from a single bare bulb streamed through an open door. Knox peered in cautiously and gasped at the sight of Fred, standing on a bed, scribbling furiously on the one remaining bare patch of wall in the room. The rest were covered with complicated mathematical formulae and diagrams.

Spike stood in the centre of the room, slowly turning and taking in the seemingly random marks on the walls. He approached Fred quietly and reached out and touched her elbow. ""Why didn't you work on this at your desk, Pet? There a paper shortage?"

Fred stopped scribbling and turned her head slightly. "Spike?" She frowned. "You think it would be easier at a desk? I haven't room to breathe on a desk. I started with quantum mechanics there, but I need space . . . and time . . ." She waved a hand, gesturing the wall behind Spike. "It's all about wave theory over there. And particle theory over here," she indicated the wall beside the bed. "But I can't find the QED," she complained. She clambered down from the bed and stood gazing at a spot beside the dresser. "Particle theory is very neat, don't you think?"

"Well, if you say so, Princess," Spike raised an eyebrow and squinted at her. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yes, it is. All. Very. Nea . ." Fred rushed over to the other side of the room. "Except this part," she showed Spike an equation, then grabbed his hand and dragged him to a corner beside the wardrobe. "Can you see this? Einstein. Relativity. It's so beautiful. Perfect in fact. That's the problem." She stopped, suddenly aware of Knox's presence in the room.

Knox walked over to the section she'd described and nodded. "You know, all this could be the answer we're looking for," he told her, smiling.

"I thought I told you to stay put," Spike growled, swinging round and glaring at him.

Fred frowned at Knox in concentration. "You think so? I've been working on it for so long. You think it's nearly time?"

"I think we've almost missed the time," replied Knox, ignoring Spike's glare.

"Time for what?" asked Spike looking at his watch. When did I get a watch? he wondered.

Fred pointed at a line of equations. "Here's the spatial geometry of the de-Sitter universe, it's Euclidean, so this, stands." She indicated an equation beginning AB(sqroot(x2-x1)2. "But it's two- dimensional, so, what happens when you take Lorentz's transformations into account?" She scrawled on the wardrobe door. "You see, simple rotations of space-time axes, according to Miniwski, space and time are not separate, they're a unitary entity – space-time."

Spike squinted at her from under increasingly furrowed brows and gazed uncomprehendingly at what looked like a series of mesh ice-cream cones, joined at their points or bases.

"Take the straight world-line through them, joining events that correspond to the time line. Quantity T is equal to the difference in time – it's the proper time between events, measured by the clock." She grasped Spike's wrist and looked at the watch, tapping its dial. "Proper time . . ." She trailed off and swung back towards the section of wall she'd been working on when Spike entered the room. "No, no! That's not it." She clambered back on the bed before Spike could stop her and began crossing out and replacing parts of her work.

Spike took her in his arms and gently pulled her away from the wall. "Fred, you're knackered. Why don't you come with me and get some rest. You can work on this later."

"No. I have to keep going," she protested. "There's something I'm missing. The maths and physics don't explain it all, that's the problem. Minowski's universe is a static one, in which all temporal cross sections are exactly similar to one another and all particles, considered as four dimensional objects, lie along parallel lines."

"Well if the science doesn't explain it, Pet . . ." Spike began pulling her gently from the bed.

"But it does, it must!" cried Fred. "Minowski's model demonstrates the non static nature of the universe by the dissimilarity of temporal cross sections and the non parallelism of the world lines of particles."

Spike looked around for Knox for an indication of how he might distract Fred's concentration, but he had his back to them, studying a section of wall.

Fred scrutinised the wall in front of her. "If time advances up the manifold, this could be a new time direction, orthogonal to the old one. A fifth dimension – hypertime – of course, the de-Sitter Universe again." Fred glanced at Spike's blank look of incomprehension and began scribbling on the wardrobe door again. "And once we have hypertime, the possibility of hyper-hypertime."

Spike sighed. "Glad you've got all that sorted then. Shall we go now?"

"No! If I don't finish this, I'll forget. Just like I'm forgetting . . ." She stopped and looked shivered, looking wildly around the room. "Feigenbaum, he's the master of chaos. He has the solution. Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Feigenbaum. He's got to be around here somewhere. He has the answers - the master of chaos. I never . . ." Fred looked at Spike and smiled. "Spike. What are you doing here?"

"Come to take you home, Princess. You need to get some rest. Everyone's worried about you back at the ranch," he said .

Fred gave a small laugh. "Back at the ranch. You're not taking me to Texas, are you?"

Spike sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside him. "Sit down for a mo'. Get your breath back. Then we'll take a quick spin across town to see some friends of ours who're gonna help put everything to rights again. Meanwhile – you," he jerked his head at Knox. "Got one of those mobile phones with you? Best give Angel a ring and let him know we found . . ." Spike stopped at the sight of Knox taking a camera out of a bag and filming Fred's work. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Spike sprang to his feet and grabbed Knox's arm.

Knox lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's the only way we'll get her to agree to some back with us," he said. "If she knows we have her work on film."

Spike turned to look at Fred. She'd climbed down from the bed and was waiting, silently, for Knox to finish filming each section.

"You will help me, won't you?" she asked Knox quietly.

"Of course. It's what I've been waiting for my whole life." Knox smiled at Fred and took her hand in his. "Here, let Spike drive you back and I'll follow when I've finished up here. I don't want to miss anything."

Fred glanced over her shoulder as Spike led her towards the door. "Please be careful," she called. "You're sure you won't miss anything? It's taken me so long." As they made their way downstairs, she explained to Spike "It's the only thing I'm sure of. Everything else is fading. I feel as if I'm fading."

Fred's face looked grey and drawn, large dark circles emphasising the hollows under her eyes. Spike looked at her with concern as she fastened her seatbelt.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

She straightened and stared out of the window, avoiding the question. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe. Angel and Wes are working on a way to get us all back home safe."

"Angel," she murmured. "He was here, at the hotel, and then . . . And Wesley, and someone else. A woman." She frowned and chewed the end of her hair in concentration. "Charles, his name is Charles." Fred looked at Spike, wide-eyed. "But you weren't there. You're Spike. You're a vampire – with a soul!" she finished triumphantly.

"That I am, love." Spike sighed. "And I think I'm as in the dark as you seem to be about what the bloody hell is going on." Spike stopped the car and turned to face her, serious, eyes searching hers for some assurance that the Fred he knew was still in there. "Are you sure you want to go back, Pet? 'cos just say the word and we can take off and leave them to sort out all this quantum thingy mumbo jumbo. We could be in Europe, or somewhere else, far away from all this. Texas p'rhaps?"

Fred took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "I can't," she said simply. "All this quantum thingy mumbo jumbo is what I do. It's what brought me to LA. And now, I'm needed." She touched his cheek with her fingertip. "But thank you. That was a sweet offer."

Spike brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "Sweet? Don't think I've ever been called that before. And I've never been given the brush-off quite so graciously – or for quantum thingy mumbo jumbo, either," he chuckled. He patted her hand and placed it back on her knee and switched on the ignition. "So, it's back to the monsters of chaos. Wolfram and Hart it is."

"Wolfram and Hart," murmured Fred. "Did you know they were demons at the time of the Old Ones?" She stared into the distance. "The Wolf, the Ram, the Hart. They've changed the name of the server, you know. They're in control of the computer system – and the interface for Wesley's books. They're the expert system of the demon world – wait – expert systems – Feigenbaum. That's where I'll find him."

"In the computer?" asked Spike, frowning.

"No, silly, in my office. He's a rabbit – with glasses," she explained.

"Oh, a rabbit is the cause of all this chaos. That explains everything," laughed Spike. "Anya was right all along."

Fred looked at him in surprise. "Anya?"

"Ex-Vengeance demon I knew briefly, one of the Scoobies," Spike explained. Wonder if she made it out of the Hellmouth? Hope so, she deserved better than a grisly end or, god forbid, life with Harris, he thought as he eased the Viper out of the alley into the traffic.

"What's a Scooby?"

"You got a few years, or will the abridged version do?"

Angel stood facing his office windows, his back towards the others, who waited patiently for his reaction to Wesley's analysis of what had been discovered the previous night. He turned slowly and gazed at Connor, his eyes betraying a sadness that had been absent since Connor had regained his memories. "You know, Wes, how much I hate being driven by any prophecies you dig out of those books. Are you sure this one is to be trusted? I mean 'the son fighting alongside the father' has a familiar ring to it." He grimaced and fixed Wesley with a worried look; one that was devoid of any accusation relating to Wesley's actions with regard to a different prophecy.

Before Wesley could respond, the phone on Angel's desk rang. Angel picked it up on the second ring. "What is it Harmony? Spike? Has he found . . ? Oh, she's there with him. Well send them both . . . Why is he in a mood? Oh. Guess I forgot to mention . . ." Angel replaced the receiver on its cradle. "Spike's found Fred. He couldn't find us. We did tell him we'd be changing offices, didn't we?" Angel looked up from the phone to see four heads shaking their disagreement.

Wesley stood beside Angel's desk and lifted a manuscript. "Getting back to business. It's not just the prophecy," he said softly. "There's Lorne's reading of Connor and Gunn's painful audience with the entity in the White Room. They all point to the same conclusion."

"Which is?"

"That we need more from Ethan if we're to make any progress with the method by which we can return to our proper time."

"Ah, yes, Ethan. Our little chaos-worshipper-in-residence. I think we'd better bring him back into the spotlight to sing for me," said Lorne reaching for his mobile. "I'll cancel all my appointments for the day. I'll be ready when I've recharged the batteries with a couple of migraine pills and some strong coffee."

Angel looked at him in alarm. "Are you sure you're up to that, Lorne? Only, last night you said . . ."

"I know what I said, last night, Angelcakes. But if we're heading back to real time, it's the least I can do to help speed us on our way down the Yellow Brick Road."

The office door swung open. "Hope that doesn't involve a repeat performance with Liz's mighty necklace from yours truly," said Spike, ushering Fred in. "'cos I've sworn off the sparklies for the duration."

Wesley raised an eyebrow at him. "As usual, Spike, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. But, no, the ritual I believe will be useful for getting us back doesn't involve your wearing any jewellery, although there are crystals involved." Wesley gestured at Knox who had followed Spike and Fred into the room. "After Fred left us last night, Knox and I unearthed information about the Old One who plays a part in both Angel and Connor's destinies; an Old One who should have appeared at Wolfram and Hart by now but hasn't. Knox has provided some detailed information about her and unearthed a summoning spell that should help us."

"Old Ones? Fred was talking about Old Ones on the way back." said Spike.

Fred looked at him in alarm. "Was I? I keep forgetting." She turned a complete circle, looking at each of them in turn.

"Have you remembered me, yet?" asked Connor, stepping towards her.

"Of course, you're Connor. You're a student at USC, doing your internship here," replied Fred, smiling broadly at him.

"So, you don't remember me from before?"

"Before? Before what?" Fred flinched and turned to Spike. "Was there a before?"

Wesley shook his head sadly and led her to the seating in the centre of the room. "Fred, why don't you sit here for a while and I'll explain everything to you when you're rested." He turned to Spike. "Spike, would you mind asking Harmony to bring some tea?"

Spike threw up his head and roared at the open door. "Harmony!"

Harmony popped her head around the doorframe. "You don't have to yell, Spike. I can hear. Vampire hearing, remember?"

"Oh, 'scuse me, Miss Touchy, I thought you were way down the corridor at your desk, where you're s'posed to be, not listening at doorways," Spike smirked at her.

"Yeah, well, I am Angel's assistant. I came to – assist," Harmony tossed her head at him.

"Yeah? Assist then. Get Fred some tea. "Camomile all right, princess?"

Fred nodded, wearily and turned her attention back to Connor. "Were you at the Hyperion, before all this?" she asked. "It's just, there's a woman who worked with us. But I can't remember who she . . ."

"Cordelia," replied Connor, quietly, moving across the room to sit beside her. "You don't remember Cordy?"

Fred looked away from him towards Wesley and Angel who were standing side by side regarding her with concern. "Did she come here with us? Where is she?" she asked.

Connor took Fred's hand in his. "Cordy's dead."

Fred looked at her hand in Connor's. "Dead?" she whispered. "How? When?"

Angel moved closer and crouched beside her. "She was injured in a fight . . ." He stopped and looked at Connor, not wanting to re-live the painful moments that had led to Cordelia's death and the deal with Wolfram and Hart. "And she went into a coma that she never came out of. She died a few weeks ago."

A single tear rolled down Fred's cheek. "She's like a ghostly memory. I can see what I think is her face, but I can't recall anything else."

Angel walked back to his desk and picked up a picture frame and passed it to her.

"This is Cordelia," she ran a finger over the image. "I know something about her is important, but what?"

"She died before I could tell her I loved her," whispered Angel, taking the frame from Fred's hands and arranging it carefully back in the exact spot from which he'd removed it earlier.

"She knew," said Lorne. "And she knew that you knew she loved you."

"If you're gonna go into one of those Noel Coward, routines, I think I'm gonna puke," said Spike, scathingly. "Shouldn't we be getting on with the moving escalator of time instead of slipping back down memory lane?"

Harmony came in, carrying a tray of tea for Fred. She set it down on the low table in front of the sofa and turned to go. "Anything else I can do, Boss? Fetch anything? Anyone?"

"Good idea, Harmony," replied Angel, tossing her a key. "Go unlock the mail room stationary closet."

"You want stationary supplies? I'm not the paper person, I'm more of a people person."

"It's a peop . . . person I want you to bring to us. A slippery character, name of Ethan Rayne. He's been locked in there all night, so he might want a bit of freshening before he gets here."

"Right Boss, anything you say," said Harmony brightly moving towards the door.

"Oh, and Harm," Spike called after her. "You feel like a little snack, feel free to indulge.."

"Harmony, Don't listen to Spike . Ethan is human, just not a very nice human. . . Oh ok," said Angel off Spike's querying glance, "I know I gave you permission to get information out of him any way you could, but that did not include biting him."

"Well, guess I was wrong," interjected Gunn. "I said it'd come down to a team vote about that."

"Now I'm confused," said Harmony, retracing her steps and coming back into the room. "Do I or do I not get to have a little taste?"

Five voices answered her, simultaneously.

"Yes." said Spike grinning at Angel.

"No!" cried Angel glaring at him.

"No!" Wesley exclaimed, looking up in alarm from his seat beside Fred.

"No!" Lorne added his voice to the protests.

"Don't look at me, I'm new to all this," said a bewildered Connor, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Guess the nos have it," Harmony reasoned, shrugging. "So, you just want him here, all fresh as a daisy and ready to – what?"

"Sing," said Lorne. "And tell him I can provide Karaoke for almost anything he has in mind. But I'll need notice of anything pre-1920s – or classical," he added as an afterthought.