Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break, Buffy: the Vampire Slayer, or Angel. Nor do I profit from writing this. Please don't sue me. Most of the action and some of the lines are taken directly from Prison Break episodes #6 & 7: "Riots, Drills, and the Devil (pt. 1 & 2)".

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"Is there some trick to this?" Bob the CO asked as Lindsey handed the eggbeater drill to him.

Lindsey had done all the drilling since they'd crawled down here, and his arms were aching with the effort. "Yeah, don't hit the gas pipe?"

"Gas…gas pipe?"

"Yeah, the pipe that carries the gas," he snarked as he sat down on the floor. Reaching behind his head, he stretched first one arm and then the other. Two more holes and they'd be through. Well, two more holes and then they'd be able to break through using a length of heavy metal pipe that was sitting next to him with the rest of the junk Scofield had gathered together down here.

Bob reluctantly put the tip of the drill into the hole Lindsey had already started and began to turn the crank.

The lights went out.

"What now?" he yelled at the ceiling, smacking the junk pile and sending bits and pieces scattering across the room. "What else do you have hidden up your sleeves that you plan on using to torture me at some later date?" Without power, the makeshift projector Scofield had rigged to throw the devil image on the wall wouldn't work. If the image wasn't on the wall, then they couldn't drill without risking life and limb.

"Do I…" Bob started to ask, but then trailed off at the sight of Lindsey's frustration.

Lindsey sighed and rubbed his hands across his face, leaving trails of white concrete powder stuck in the sweat. "Just…finish that hole, and we'll wait for Scofield to come back."

"Meow!"

Something small and furry settled itself on his hand. Lindsey looked down in the gloomy, diffused light filtering down from a window somewhere high, high over head. Westmoreland's cat—what was she called?—was sitting on his hand, looking at him with big eyes. "Meow!" she repeated insistently, then got up and bounded over to one of the exits. It wasn't the one that led back to his cell. Actually, if Lindsey had his bearings right, it led deeper into the prison. The cat sat back down and raised a paw as if pointing down the maintenance corridor. "ME-YOW!"

This was absurd. "Oh-kay, Lassie, I can take a hint," he muttered.

The drilling stopped. "What?"

"Lucky break for you—cat wants us to follow her." He eased back and grabbed Bob's arm, hustling him down the corridor. The cat walked in front of them, swishing her tail in a way that seemed to say she was pleased they'd gotten her message.

"We…we're following a cat?" the guard asked as they stumbled along in the dark. The corridor was just wide enough for one man to walk and only occasionally scrape his shoulders on pipes.

Lindsey took the drill from the other man and stuck it down the side of his boot, pulling his pant leg over it to help hold it in place. "Yes, we're following the cat. I've dealt with all sorts of weird messengers lately…"

He was cut off by a shout of "Sucre!"

Michael's voice, coming from the drilling area. "Down here!" he called back. How on earth was he going to explain this to Scofield? Somehow, he doubted the other man was going to buy the 'cat says we should follow her' explanation. Lindsey wasn't sure why he was buying it himself.

Fortunately (or not), Scofield wasn't interested in where they were going as he stumbled up and grabbed hold of Lindsey's shoulders. "Your friend… Your friend's dead," he said, choking. Maybe from breathing too hard or maybe from crying, Lindsey couldn't tell.

"What? Who's dead?" He shook Scofield. "Who's dead?"

"Your friend—the one like you, who can hop bodies like you do," Michael answered, either not seeing Bob or not caring if the guard heard. "She was in the doctor, and a sniper shot her. Lindsey, he was trying to shoot me, and she wouldn't get out of the way! I tried to push her…"

His stomach knotted as he processed what Scofield was trying to say. "The Oracle? She's dead?"

"Dr. Tancredi's dead?" Bob asked from behind him.

Scofield nodded, the motion just barely visible in the dark.

That couldn't be right—Higher Powers didn't die, right? "Are you sure?" Lindsey demanded, not caring that he probably sounded a little crazy. Cass was his guide. How the hell was he supposed to navigate this Gauntlet thing without a guide? "Are you positive she's dead?"

Michael pushed away from him, leaving sticky smears of something across Lindsey's bare upper arms. He didn't need to see it to know it was blood. The Oracle's blood.

"Meow!" the cat demanded impatiently from farther up the corridor, probably wondering why they'd stopped.

If Cass was dead, then there was nothing they could do but keep moving forward. Hell, maybe this cat was supposed to be his new guide or something. "Come on," he said, grabbing the front of Michael's t-shirt. "Follow me." They started forward again, and Scofield fell into step behind him.

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Lincoln Burrows couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and almost couldn't stand up. Could his day get any worse, he wondered as he staggered through the Fox River's basement. Yes, his brain supplied, it could. Something happening to Michael—trapped in A-wing with the rioting crazies Michael—would definitely make his day a whole hell of a lot worse.

Turk stepping out of the shroud of steam, holding a pipe, probably could make it worse as well. Especially Turk didn't look human anymore. His hair was gone, replaced by a ring of small horns around the crown of his head and hard bone that extended down over his nose. His skin was a darker shade of beige and scaly. Lincoln swallowed. Maybe he'd be panicking more if he hadn't just had the oxygen to his brain severely restricted. "Turk, why're you doing this?" he asked as the man…er, monster began to circle him. "Who sent you?"

Turk's response was to swing the pipe. It struck Lincoln right above the hip, making him fold up on himself. He fell back into a corner, which meant the next blow hit him on the meat of his arm, knocking him back out into the open. The third blow he managed to dodge, the pipe clanging off the railing. They were on a catwalk over the open furnace room, about fifteen feet up. Linc grabbed hold of the pipe and kicked at Turk's knees. One buckled, and he rammed into the man, knocking him over the guardrail.

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"Why are we in the furnace room?" Scofield finally asked after about five minutes of following the cat farther and farther down the back corridors of the prison.

"I don't know—ask the cat," Lindsey snapped. He'd moved ahead of the CO, putting the guard between him and Scofield, just in case Bob decided to make a break for it. Not that he really thought Bob would—since he'd been the one to protect him from T-bag's predations—but it never hurt to be too careful. Especially since he was flying guideless at the moment.

The body of a demon came hurtling down out of nowhere and hit the ground right in front of him, barely missing the cat. "Shit!" Lindsey swore, dancing back out of the way. From the snapping noise the demon's neck had made when it hit the concrete, it was definitely dead. "Where'd that come from?"

The three men (and possibly the cat, though she'd never admit it) looked up and saw man crouched on a walkway high above them, clutching at his throat.

"Linc!" Scofield shouted up to his brother.

Lincoln held up his hand and disappeared from sight. A moment later, he reappeared on their level and crushed his brother to him in a giant hug. Burrows' eyes were wide and more than a little wild as Scofield clung to him. Michael buried his face in his brother's shoulder for a moment before pulling back.

"Where've you been?" Burrows demanded. He was covered in blood, most of it coming from a gash on his head and from around his neck. Looked like someone had tried to strangle him. Lindsey looked down at the demon at his feet. Huh.

"All over," Scofield answered. The hug had transferred some of Burrows' blood to him, staining the side of his face red. "Are you all right? Cass warned me there was a demon in here—a mercenary." Both brothers looked down at the creature in front of Lindsey.

"So that's a demon?" Burrows asked, raising an eyebrow.

There was a ripple in the air, just over the brothers' shoulders, and another demon—this one wrapped in a black hooded cloak appeared. "Uh…folks," Lindsey called out. He grabbed Bob's shirt and turned. The demon was apparently one of six. He and the CO began backing towards the brothers as all six pulled swords out from beneath their cloaks in smooth, synchronized movements. He scooped up a length of pipe that was lying on the floor. The cross Cass had put on his wrist clinked against it. "I don't suppose your ready for round two?" he called to Burrows.

"More like round four," the big man called back, but he too settled into a fighting stance. He had a pair of handcuffs dangling from one wrist, and he slid the loose one over his fingers like a set of brass knuckles.

Beside Lindsey, Bob swallowed but brought his fists up, a look of determination almost chasing the fear from his round face. That just left Scofield…

A tattooed arm reached around and seized the cross dangling from Lindsey's wrist. He barely had a moment to protest before Scofield ripped it free from its chain. "What the fuck are you doing?" Lindsey demanded as he looked back over his shoulder at the taller man.

Scofield wiped the cross over his cheek, staining it with the blood from his brother's neck. "Getting us out of here," he said and then tossed the cross to the floor.

It landed with a ping that was both barely audible and phenomenally loud. Then a roar filled Lindsey's ears as a portal opened up in front of them. The cat bounded through before it had even reached its full width.

"Follow Marilyn!" Scofield yelled. He grabbed Bob's arm and hauled the both of them through into the black vertical whirlpool.

Burrows shook his head as if thinking his brother was crazy and then dove in after him.

Lindsey cast one last look at the six swordsmen and the demon corpse, then he too stepped through the portal. It closed as soon as he passed through, leaving only a small, warped, silver cross behind.

So ends part 1: Trial of the Wolf