Late General Hughes

Chapter 3: A Funny Thing Happened at Central Command

By Claudius

I don't own anything FMA, Buffy, or Angel

Despite being bound and worried about his vampiric nature, Hughes eventually lost himself to sleep. He dreamed of an environment he never could be near again: A wide grassy field on a bright day. The sun...the sun was shining, its warmth touching his face. Hughes missed it to the point of crying. A cool breeze turned his eyes. He spotted a figure before him. His heart (figuratively speaking) elevated like a balloon. It was Gracia. She saw him too, smiling with her graceful face. His heart and soul connected with her, as forever shall be. Contact was demanded. The distance from each other shrank very quickly, vanishing with an embrace. Then kissing. Then loving. Hughes sank into his love for her. Everything he was and ever shall be, he gave to her.

Gracia smiled. She had a gun pointed at him.

Bang! Hughes' mind, heart, and body entered the worst agony ever suffered. Probably a torture one can never survive. But he did not fall to this betrayal. He remained where he was, glaring at Gracia with remorseless eyes. Violated love blackened into hate. "Murderous cock-sucking bitch!" His cry was as decisive as his pounce upon the woman. His tight hold of her neck choked Gracia. It was no shapeshifting Homunculus, but a human female dying under his grip. Hughes pulled her neck to his mouth. He will enjoy her very much...

Hughes gasped, snapping back to reality. If he still needed air in his lungs, he would be breathless now. Comfort was lacking, thanks to his tied position. He could only realize the truth of this dream. He remembered now. Those girls tied him to a chair, with watch given by a horned green-skinned demon.

Said demon moaned. "Please put the volume control on your angst," Lorne rubbed his eyes in awakening.

Aware of everything now, Hughes refused to say anything.

Lorne sat up, very tired. "Look, sleeping with you isn't my idea of 'Strawberry Fields Forever' either." He sighed, compliant to some future action. "You got something that needs getting off, right?"

Hughes scowled. He remembered that this Lorne could read souls through singing. Central Command could put him to good use. The interrogation room as an audition room!

Lorne wearily scratched his back and neck. "I don't like grim and gritty. I'm more of a guy who likes to avoid it with a smile, as best I can. Just like you."

Hughes' eyes glued to the demon. Did he know something?

Lorne was analytical. "I saw the pictures. You can win an Oscar, but that happy face isn't the real you. Something you picked up from childhood, correct? Trying too hard to be the good son for your ailing father?" Hughes made no answer in spite of his surprise. Lorne got this much from just a few lyrics? Lorne lay back to bed. "When you got older, the confusion just started. You didn't know who you were, so you continued to hide it with the happy facade. You knew the mask better than yourself. Then some things happened. Here comes the grim and gritty part! The mask cracks as you do some things that really aren't happy. You begin to wonder: Is the real you something really opposite to that smile? Something worse?" Hughes began to think violent self-defense. Some forbidden territory was being explored. He now had decapitation and mutilation in mind.

"And when you think things couldn't get any worse, you-"

"That's enough!"

Lorne was startled. "Actually, I was getting to the good part."

"In a matter of speaking," Hughes' stance was as penetrating as Lorne's story.

Lorne decided to obey. "Okay, skipping some scenes, you became a vampire! Now you're back to square one of 'Who am I?'" Hughes lessened his hostility. Maybe he should be hearing this? "Hiding who you are is never a good thing. Just ask Rock Hudson." Ignoring the mysterious name, Hughes spoke in a cold growl. "So what am I then?"

This delivery caused Lorne to gulp. "I just give advice. It's up to you to find out."

"Dawn said that I'm only a demon."

"Partially right she is! You've got the same memories and personality of your human self, and probably the same flaws. But a demon's now taking rent in you, bringing power, instincts, and nature. Only this demon finds the apartment comes with a nosy human conscience."

Hearing this, Hughes thought of his motto: Nothing is ever completely negative. Of course, he was human when he believed those words.

Meanwhile, Lorne crouched to the headboard of the bed. He got this funny discomfort feeling. Call him crazy, but it probably came from the vampire who decapitated him. "Despite news of the contrary, a vampire doesn't always have to follow his nature. And ensouled ones really have a get out of jail free pass to that."

Hughes begrudgingly absorbed this advice.

Then Lorne opened up the wounds. "But that's not what's bugging you right now. It has to do with a certain Homunculus right?"

Absorption was now over. Hughes danced his hands free of the ropes. All he waited for was the demon to say the wrong thing.

"The trauma's gave you a round of the blame game. On your better half."

"So?" Hughes cringed. Not in fear, but in growing anger. His outburst, however, gave way to surrendering. "Okay, I loved her." The attitude lifted, revealing a human sense of loss. "Nothing I did, becoming a Major or Lieutenant Colonel, was as great as getting her love in my life. I would've done anything for her. I'd die, which I guess I already did." He grabbed the beautiful memory, holding onto what was left of it. But the terrible reality was in the lining, always twisting it into something foul. "I gave her my heart and soul…and look what happened!"

"Pretty traumatic thinking, ain't it? If you didn't worship the ground she walked on, you'd be still alive. 'Course, you'd still end up a vampire."

Hughes smoldered in his darkness again. What Lorne said did make sense. It was the vampire sire who was responsible for his present state. But…

Roy Mustang was just as responsible for his path, even if Gracia never existed (which could mean Elysia never existed). But…

It was the Homunculus who killed him. But…

But he could have survived the Vampire attack. And he could handlethe Homunculus doing a Roy impression. No. No, he died because of that…bitch! Hughes' words attempted some ice, but a cold resolve wasn't working as he shook to these memories. "Every time I think about her, I remember that. My life… she… that morphing thing…they made it all shit!" His face embittered, wavering with angry remorse. "That whore-"

"Careful on the colorful titles," the Pylean corrected in his growing fright. "It was the Homunculus who killed you. Not Gracia."
"Doesn't change a thing."

"She did not do it. You have to keep telling yourself that."

"I've done it a thousand times!" Hughes' voice was rising.

"Than add a gazillion to it!" Lorne shouted despite his present situation. "The problem's gotten bigger with you being a de-."

Lorne's security took a major crash. Hughes freed himself, jumped on the bed, and grabbed his green neck. A vamp face formed the assailant's hostile expression. "Another word and I'll tear your body into so many pieces! Believe me, I've had enough of you quick-healing monsters!"

Lorne choked in his fears, risking things on a gambit. "Don't you wish I'm Gracia?"

It is hard for a vamp face to show uncertainty, what with all the skull formations and animal eyes. But Hughes managed to show it. It grew as his normal face returned. He released Lorne, staggering to the opposite bed post. His sweaty head bowed despairingly. "I…I don't know."

Lorne remained on his spot. Thank heaven for the right word at the right time! Bunking with the girls seemed like a very good idea right now.

Hughes wiped his tormented face. "Enough with analyzing me, okay?" His voice had a tired, pathetic tone to it.

Lorne nodded like a chicken pecking something.

Hughes approved at the sight. A frightening monster showing childish fear, just like Alphonse Elric. The glee was temporary, followed with bitter guilt. "I'm sorry."

Lorne started to get out of the bed.

"Look," Hughes did his best to apologize. "I guess I have some issues to consider."

Tell me about it, Lorne's perspired in a much lighter shade of green. Then again, don't.

Hughes grabbed his temple, fingers fiddling on the top of his head. He sighed. For every bad thing, there had to be a good thing as well. "Wanna head away from one touchy subject into another?"

Lorne eyed wariness. "Like what?"

"Tell me about Dawn."

Lorne breathed the mixture of a sigh and moan.

"Please?" Hughes threw his best smile forward.

Cordelia still considered the Hughes problem. The night sleep was supposed to give her a lightbulb idea, but it appeared she didn't pay the psychic electric bill. Confusion still reigned. Kill Hughes the ensouled vampire? Let him run free like Harmony? Will she ever see her Armani wardrobe ever again?

If this appeared to be redundant thinking, keep in mind that Cordelia, Tara, and Dawn were right now in the city searching for Hughes. Lorne let him out. More like Hughes knocked him senseless before escaping. Lorne thought the guy meant no harm, saying he asked for some outside time. Since this came from the same Lorne who gave advice to Harmony to go kill her, Cordelia had reason to worry. That she wanted to take the reason was a question. If Hughes wanted to be rid of Lorne, would her Pylean friend not be around to tell her this?

But what about the premonition she had? Cordelia envisioned Hughes going vamp, and it wasn't for an extreme close-up. But even that had doubts. Her visions didn't necessarily portray only bad people. She had a vision of Gunn, and he was no demon. He was in trouble. Did that mean Hughes wasn't the problem, but was having trouble of his own?

These ideas already stemmed on the other good points of temptation. If Hughes wanted to kill his family at any time, he certainly took his sweet time, especially since he could enter the house anytime he wanted. Maybe she can trust him. Cordelia never knew an ensouled vampire who was a bad psychopath. She knew a few ensouled humans with a less colorful label. But an ensouled vampire was a different thing. As long as they remained ensouled, of course!

When Cordelia really got down to it, Hughes was like Angel. They looked alike, they sounded a little alike. And they both wanted to help people. Guess the days when demonnecessary evil were lost in those teenage days. She was growing up a lot, even if it did suck at times. That was especially true last night, when she slept badly thanks to a cold hard floor. Even after the IRS took everything away, Cordelia could still rely on a bed or something comfy for sleep. But she now was substitute leader, which meant she had to be sacrificial for the rest. She had to sleep on the floor while Tara and Dawn got the one bed. As usual, Cordelia had another motive: what if Tara dreamt about Willow and started groping in her sleep? Of course, Tara did nothing to her bedmate Dawn. The two slept comfortably together. So much so that it was a good thing Cordelia already knew about Tara being a surrogate mom to Dawn, else her suspicions would have wandered.

The real facts were weirder enough. Willow a lesbian? A new point in that 'things change' metaphor, added to the friend-turned-vampire thing. Cordelia found some major differences in her home team. Willow had gone from one boyfriend to a girlfriend. Guess she didn't have to worry about anymore 'boyfriend theft' from her (like Willow could!). Spike now served as the Scoobies' vampire mascot. Giles had a magic shop, employing an ex-demon, Anya, who was snuggling with her ex Xander.

Not that all things changed. Dawn was still a pest, or was that now a pest? The truth confused Cordelia more than the plot to Fight Club. So Dawn had no existence before last year? That she was a ball of energy that became a human, and everybody's mind was raped into believing she was around since Buffy first turned up in Sunnydale? So the times Dawn annoyed her, Cordelia reasoned, she was actually annoying herself? Okay, her mind was going in knots. Add her heart to that, along with everyone else. From far and wide, Buffy's end had left a mark on all who knew her, like yours truly. This led to a lot of awkward silent periods. Cordelia found herself unable to say any remark to break the ice. That is, any remark not insensitive. Another part of the new Cordelia. Too bad it included these premonition headaches. The pain from each one was lasting longer than usual. And there was no luck for aspirin in 1915 Amestris.

Oh well, Cordelia was resolved, best to hide said problems with her sexy face and dazzling smile! At least she was talented in that. Good or bad, Hughes had to be found.
While Cordelia and gang searched, the residents of Central Command dealt with the new arrival: A car that came out of nowhere. The surrounding soldiers all pointed their guns and rifles at it. Their grip remained firm as a man came out of the vehicle and said, "Kids, we're not in bloody Kansas anymore."

This stranger spoke to the car's other passengers. "Come out, Scarecrow and Glinda."

Some things were noted by the surrounding military. The stranger appeared bothered by the brightness of the painted windows. He resembled the late Colonel Kimbley, but with a scary glare more suited to a psychopath (then again, for the soldiers who knew the Crimson Alchemist, there was no difference). His accomplices were younger. The man resembled a younger Roy Mustang. One officer, Hannigan, noticed the young woman with them looked like Miss Schiezska.

But General Hakuro had no time to act shocked. He strutted before the three. "Speak." He ordered.

The Kimbley lookalike gave the authority a puff of smoke from his cigarette.

"General Hakuro has given you an order," said Lieutenant Noxon. "Answer him."

The lookalike's face fell to a darker stance. "Not bloody likely."

The young man differed by putting his hands up. The young woman followed, though the calm look of her face showed no intention of a definite surrender. The Kimbley lookalike just flung his cigarette. Before it hit the ground, he lunged out, jumped over some soldiers in a colossal leap and ran out the door. His speed was impressive.

Hakuro didn't care. "Green, Powell, Hannigan, after him!' He shouted decisively. Then he turned to the officers not with the pursuers. "Brendan, Carpenter, Marsters. Take these two for questioning." He too left the room. Handcuffs were applied to the remaining prisoners ("Watch the wrists!" whined the man). They were escorted away.

The remaining officers Boroneaz, Strait, Greenwalt, Espenson, and Benson put their eyes to the car. It was built very strangely. The windshield and windows were painted black. The hood, fender, cabin were smooth on the outside, not carrying the engine tubes to propel the engines. There were materials in the car. A rifle. A box filled with smelly plants, a glass orb, and a note full of instructions and gibberish. Suddenly, knocks and a voice came from within the back trunk. "Somebody help!"

A gun broke the trunk lock. Inside was a heavily shackled man. The officers couldn't sustain their responses. This man too resembled someone. He looked like Brigadier General Maes Hughes. Such a belief was scrapped with disappointment. Even those State Alchemists couldn't resurrect the dead.

"I was minding my own business," The prisoner pleaded softly, "when these people attacked me and tied me up." He showed his bound position. "Can someone get these chains off me?"

Sgt. Strait got some pliers. "Oh, very kind of you," the man put out a beautiful angelic smile. A snap, and a row of chains came off. Then another. And another.

"Someone contact General Hakuro," said Corporal Boreneaz, "Report a kidnapping."

Greenwalt and Espenson departed. That left three with the victim.

"Thanks," the man said with a smile. "And sorry." His fist flew and made Strait unconscious. Then he scooped up the chain as his weapon. His fingers dipped into the middle link, placing the whole links to his command. He swung one end, wrapping it around Benson's legs. One yank and the soldier tripped and fell headfirst onto the floor.

His ears picked up gunshots. His shoulder shirked at Boreneaz's bullet. But his other arm swung the chain, slapping and disarming the Corporal's hand. He grabbed the weaponless Corporal, his new target. "I want some questions."

"Go to hell."

There was no surprise in the opponent. "Been there, done that." His face suddenly changed. Corporal Boreneaz saw the devil himself.

Nearby, Officers Brendan, Carpenter, and Marsters saw two amazing things. First were the woman prisoner's eyes going pitch black! The other was their sudden departure off the floor. They rammed the wall into unconsciousness.

Xander looked dumbfounded at their present emancipation. Willow was getting big with the witchcraft! Just a phrase 'hit the wall' and the guards went on cue. Just as impressive was the handcuffs flying off their wrists. The plan was be to get Dawn, Cordelia, and Tara and get out of this new world order. But prior to that, the best thing was to get out of here.

Willow had the same idea. "Clothes change." Their clothing changed to uniforms.

"There," Willow cutely smiled. "We look very soldiery now." The disguised duo walked around the halls as calmly as possible, getting a view of what world they entered. "Do you think Angel's alright?" Willow asked.

"Assuming your spell worked and it's still Angel." Xander did not share similar feelings. "Excuse me if I'm more worried about this place. It looks like some weird Bizarro world where the Nazis won."

Willow nodded to Xander's view, even if his knowledge of the Third Reich came from the Indiana Jones movies. "I don't see swastikas anyplace."

"But those guys said a Fuhrer."

"Like him?" Willow took Xander to see the painting on the wall. It caught them like a net of fish hooks. It said Fuhrer Bradley, but it looked like Mayor Wilkins with a moustache and eyepatch.

"Anymore omens that we're in screwed central?" Xander faked a smile.

Willow's mind always sparked to some logic. "He could be the Mayor Wilkins of this universe."

"So you think there's another us in this universe?" Xander treaded on any good thing in their situation. "Maybe I'm some popular, handsome soldier around here!" He vainly brushed his black hair.

Before Willow could think of her possible counterpart (one that wasn't skanky and evil), a serious example came to her head. "Mebbe there's another Buffy here?"

Xander went silent. The idea was eligible for major thinking. Put E in eligible.

Willow than entered a place called Records.

"Will, I don't think this is anywhere near out of here."

Willow contrasted Xander's emotions with calmness. "Knowledge is power."

"Getting out of here is power too. You finding our friends is power too."

"The pen is mightier than the sword."

"The Joker said that," Xander pressured his popular culture knowledge. "As in joke?"

Willow shook her head at this ignorance. "It's the best way to learn about the Hughes vamp."

"Helping Angel? You're taking the leader job very seriously." Xander grasped at other things. "Can't you take the command to find Dawn and the others?"

"Forgetting love of my life here," snapped Willow. She wanted to put Tara in the prior of priorities. But being a leader meant she had to slide that one to no. 2. Besides, taking down those guards took a chockload amount of 'a lot' out of her. She needed some time to recuperate. But she didn't tell Xander that. Leaders can be secretive too.

Xander didn't follow. "I don't know about you, but I'm finding my own way out of here and find our friends before our two dead boys does." He ran out of the room despite Willow's protest. His disappearance could make the witch sigh. As leader she had to get information. Information on Maes Hughes was what counted. Then she can find Tara and Dawn. Stupid priorities. Stupid, dumb priorities! With a sigh, she explored the records room. Predictably there were no computers, so she had to get things through reading (won't Giles be happy with this place!). Or she can ask someone. It was that simple.

Then again, the events that started this whole mess had the simple signs on it too. Willow wanted to use a spell to search for Buffy's soul through space or time. To do it, she needed Angel. Because of his ties with the afterlife, Hell, and his 200 something year experience, Angel could be used as a nexus to track down Buffy's essence.

The ritual was done in the Magic Shop, without Giles' knowledge. Only Xander, Anya, and Angel's friend Lorne witnessed it. Cordelia and Spike were supposed to watch Dawn. That didn't work out. Dawn came and interrupted the ritual mid-session. The energies suddenly went amok, grabbing Dawn, and then Tara, Cordelia, and Lorne, sending them somewhere over the rainbow. Why? Willow rounded up the suspects. Angel was one. The spell somehow opened a buried memory within him, the memory of another universe. And for some reason, the spell became a dimensional doorway. That could be Dawn's doing. Maybe being The Key meant Dawn had some dormant ability to open any kind of metaphysical gate, like Angel's memory and the other dimension. She's still a mystic schlage, termed Xander.

Everything wasn't humor from Xander though. He really burned Willow on the stake for pulling this trick (a good thing Giles didn't know yet, and Anya will make sure it stays that way). Willow's viewpoint was nowhere in his viewpoint. She still thought getting Buffy back was the right thing (In fact, the missing whereabouts of her soul gave a darker meaning on where she truly is!). The only guilt she felt was accidentally sending Tara, Dawn, and the others to this world.

So, they had to go to said dimension. Angel proved helpful in that. For one thing, he would be Willow's host for locating the dimension. But he also had advice. He spoke of the trip needing some dimensional 'hot spring' to tap the efficient energies. He also said that they needed a car to travel through the dimension. The lack of metal protection would either throw each passenger to different parts of the other world, or merge them into some freak. Since no one was happy with that latter consequence, provisions were made. The ruins of Sunnydale High School, home of the Hellmouth, would be the 'hot spring.' For the latter, Spike offered his car, saying he was going to find Dawn. Angel and Spike naturally came to blows over this, but Willow persuaded them (rather menacingly) that either both go or both stay here.

While Spike's only motive was Dawn, Angel had other reasons. He said he had to find Cordelia, the tone of his wish giving some interesting ideas (Sly Cordelia, Willow grumbled. Always managing to get anyone wrapped around her finger. In that case, she had to find Tara soon!). But there was a reason B too. The memory Dawn unlocked in Angel's noggin was another one of his murders- set in the other dimension during his post-curse period. Being over here somehow turned off his soul's power, not the soul itself since the only way it could be lost was by Angel...Anyway, pseudo-Angelus killed and sired a man named Maes Hughes before coming back to this world and his own guilty grumpy self. The shock that he sired someone post-ensoulment was too much for Angel, causing him to repress the memory. As usual, 'We hate Angel' club treasurer Xander gave this reasoning a shaker of salt. So Angel's three-month rampage in Sunnydale 1998 rated 10 in the horrible acts most likely to cause denial and repression, while killing this Hughes guy rated 1?! Anyway, Angel felt (as usual) he had to make amends, this time by stopping the Hughes vamp.

Skipping to the present situation, the rescue party got split up in some neo-Nazi world. Right now, the Spikemobile had to be abandoned. Too bad, with what they left behind: Weapons, Willow's soul-restoration kit, and Angel. Nobody (living, that is) was assured about the idea of Angel coming along, considering what happened the last time he made this trip. Willow attempted something. Since Angel's soul needed a magic Duracell in that world, she reasoned that some depression spell would give it the needed juice. But Xander took no chances, forcing Angel to be chained up and locked in the trunk. Just in case, Willow took the ensoulment equipment. That was now confiscated, along with the stun rifle. That meant Angel's one chance was that spell. It better work or this Nazi world will be the least of their problems. In that case, Willow better find this information as soon as possible.

She went to the custodian. "Excuse me, can you tell me anything about Maes Hughes?"

In a cramped army coat, Spike walked along the darker hallways. It was easy to sneak up on one soldier, freak him out with his Vamp face, and ask for his coat and money. Unfortunately, some of the wankers got the balls to fight him instead. Bad thing for him, since this chip played kick the can with his brain. But Spike was able to dodge said opponents, whose attacks usually led to their journey to a wall, floor, or someone else into the jolly land of unconsciousness. As good these nasty (for the wankers) moments felt, Spike was disappointed. Perhaps he could use some balcony he can dodge these soldier boys into. That would have been almost funny!

Almost. It was clear to Spike that he was lacking the vampire juices. He was going through the motions, killing demons, helping Buffy's groupies, watching Dawn. Only his heart got stopped (metaphorically speaking), its beating ended at that sacrificial altar tower, and her death. Temporarily alone, Spike leaned against the wall in sad contemplation. It's funny; his little pity party after Dru dumped him now appears so bloody pathetic. Wished he could experience that stupor now than this present hell. Words flashed in his mind:

Because of the loss of Slayer love,

came nasty boils and unhappy depression thereof,

See the vampire now, with all yon glee,

He is destroyed indubitably!

Oh bloody hell, Spike sobered up to his actions. He was reciting bad poetry again! Really in a bad way now, he despaired. Got to get what's left of his act together. All that mattered now was Dawn. If she was in this stormtrooper world, he'll rescue her. Not Willow, not Xander, and certainly not bloody Dead Boy.

That was easier said than done. This place was a déjà vu shop of bad memories, with import goods of Initiative. Wondered if this soldierboy country dealt with demons in a similar way? Spike considered himself definitely not the one to find out.

Oh well! Spike marshaled his resolved strength. Let this world watch out! Here comes Spike, William the Bloody, ready to fight…to beat all…for puppies and Christmas…

The rising resolve was very temporary. Who was he kidding? Back to despair time.

Fuhrer King Bradley was having his first cup of tea since his return from Liore. The tray was gently added to the table before him. His covered eye predicted each movement the temporary Secretary gave, detecting nothing negative in her work. Good tea.

He thought about the Elric Brothers' predicament. After many centuries, a real Philosopher Stone had been created- inside Alphonse Elric. The armored one needed to be apprehended. His brother won't be so lucky. Bradley sent Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang for that job. This would be a test of loyalty. Will Mustang apprehend the Fullmetal Alchemist, or change sides? Bradley was nonchalant about either choice. And Mustang was such a good military dog. This generation bred the best of the best. It was a shame Bradley cared nothing for the soldiers who served him so diligently.

Oh well. It was all for the Master's good. For all his own loyalty, Bradley did find her new form a bit shocking. Not so problematic was her need for the Philosopher Stone. Bradley accepted the reason, just as long as she accepted his importance to her plans. He emphasized that importance. The Master couldn't have gotten anywhere without his help. Certainly not from that traitorous Lust, that numbskull Gluttony, or that insolent wild child Envy. He is the Master's Pride.

Bradley reviewed the calendar. Very soon it will be Selim's birthday. Fatherhood was another role Bradley had to portray well. He could do better than the late General Hughes did with his Elysia. How he spoiled that child! The result was a nuisance who wanted to be seen and heard. Way less mannered than his good son. Despite such views, Bradley had to put the façade of a loving Fuhrer for that girl too. Even though he was the one who rendered her fatherless.

There came a flexing of his covered eye. His senses picked up some noise. It seemed a commotion was going on. Bradley arose from his chair and grabbed his sabre. Could the Elric Brothers be making an attack? Fools.

The Fuhrer walked through hallways, predicting every officer's appearance. The building and his inhabitants were like his own body. None could escape his watch.

Soon, Spike came to a garage. Fortunately, it was an empty one. His nose tickled by the pungent smell of wet paint. Part of the place was getting redecorated.

Now how to get out of here? The Spikemobile was no question ( it was on its last legs anyway). Spike's eyes spotted a new vehicle. What do we have here? It was a limousine with tubes on its back. Hot-wiring it will mean a good getaway. But what about Mr. Sun?

The scent gave him an idea.

Lieutenant Goode pointed her gun at the oncoming intruder. Her stern resolve became addled with recognition. "Colonel Hughes?"

This surprise gave the intruder the advantage to knock her down. Another officer jumped to tackle him. He got out-leapt. That officer too fell, this time landed by a kick.

The intruder got imprisoned in a headlock. Bad move. His own skull made a strong impact with the captor's face. Headlock broken.

More soldiers arrived. He escaped their attacks by dodges or by physical combats that had them lasting a minute or less. Some soldiers.

His nose picked up a scent. Xander. And another...

Xander found his trip out of the Command building. He used the ventilation shaft. Unfortunately, the effort to get to safety was tight, dark, and cumbersome. The easy factor got stretched even further by this long raincoat uniform. Maybe walking out in this suit was the better idea. He still had his soldier thinking (he thought so). He could be mistaken for a Lieutenant, or a Sergeant or a General?

Damn it, Xander picked on himself. He really should have taken advantage of that soldier personality he got four Halloweens ago. Stupid! If Xander was really putting himself through the wringer, it was better than depressing about Buffy. Work brain, not heart! On the situation! Not on your situation with Buffy!

But forgetting the past was really impossible. The return of Cordelia and Angel made things feel like high school again, making those memories very vivid. So much time had passed since the school blew up. Outsiders would need the Official Index of Buffy the Slayer#4 and 5 to understand the changes. And the final issue would be worth a few reprints, like Uncanny X-Men#137 or Amazing Spider-Man#121…

Yep, Xander knew it; he missed her. Romantic yearnings had gone away but the core friendship feeling they had gave enough pain. When Superman died back in '92, Xander blubbered for weeks (made him unpopular…more so). His mourning may be considered dorky, but it readied him for death in real life, which was worse. At least Superman could be resurrected by the writers; No chance for Jesse, Miss Calendar, Mrs. Summers, or Buffy. Life wasn't a comic book. Beloved real people can't be brought back by some fanfic writer!

Only Willow couldn't accept that. She had to use her magic. And now Dawn, Cordelia, Tara, and Lorne were gone. Thanks Will! Then and now, Xander saw his best friend Willow as a target of anger. Can't she accept that Buffy is dead? She's dead…

But the problem with making a point is that you have to believe it. Xander found he really didn't want to accept the truth either. Heroes can die, but they can come back too.

Yes, he was one very pathetic guy.

Some light was spotted in the corner. It was at a slanted part of the shaft. Xander had to move slowly and carefully.

Fuhrer Bradley was hit by something above him. It was an officer dropping out of the ceiling, his impact sending the Fuhrer straight to the floor. He slowly arose, anger snapping his sinister calm. Sparks flew in his inhuman brain, thinking less about the crash and more to the fact that he didn't predict it. His eyes struck the figure. He looked like a young Mustang, but the resemblance meant little compared to his presence. Bradley's human eye saw him solid and clear. But his Ultimate Eye saw no more than his regular one. No sign of hostility, no anticipation of his person's next move. It was as if he didn't exist in this reality.

"Um, sorry. Pardon me. Have I said enough apologies?" Xander's confidence drained away when he met the Fuhrer. If this guy was as bad as Hitler or Mayor Wilkins, he was pretty screwed. He thought about the quality of his army abilities again: could the word 'nothing' be a better term for its existence?

"Hold!' cried Bradley.

But Xander turned away. A few steps forward and he saw Bradley was now in front of him. Yep, the similarity with Wilkins wasn't just facial. "Okay, lemme guess. You're a demon right?" Xander accused him.

An eyebrow arched from Bradley. He knows! Then this man's fate was sealed.

Xander slurred to empty space. "Damn I'm right and I really shouldn't have said that aloud." Yammering at the face of danger concluded, he stepped a few feet back. The Fuhrer marched toward him forebodingly. He unsheathed his sword.

"Um isn't killing a soldier for a stupid accident, illegal?"

"I make the rules," Bradley smiled.

"Very convenient," Xander found wit in the worst predicaments. His eye spotted a flag on the wall. He grabbed and pointed it as a weapon.

The staff cut in half. Xander didn't even see the demon slice it. Okay, Xander grasped at straws. He can use the remaining piece as a stake. Maybe Bradley was a vampire?

A new voice cut in. "Am I interrupting something?"

Bradley stilled his deadly attack to see the new visitor from ten feet away. It looked like General Hughes back from the dead. But it was not. For one thing, this man had a gloomy face that seemed an anathema of the late General. He bore a sword behind his back, and immunity to his Ultimate Eye as well. Who are these people?

Xander saw Angel's entry too, but the idea that he was saved did not occur to him.

"I smell a demon in here," Angel spoke slowly and calm. The tone really didn't do anything for Xander's plight.

Bradley sighed. It appeared a lot of people were learning his secret identity these days!

Not to mention dying or being condemned to death because of it.

"Can I watch you kill him?" Angel smirked.

"No!" Xander moaned. He secretly promised to marry Anya the instant he got out of here alive.

Bradley ran his sword toward Xander. From nowhere it was deflected by a parrying shot from the visitor's own blade.

"Sorry, did I get in your way?" Angel smirked.

Bradley turned his arm and weapon. Angel continued parrying it with his sword. The crossed blades tore intensely edge by edge, scraping a sound both their ears could hear. Then the blades parted. Both wielders realized a brutal fight was to ensue. Xander heard Angel's caring voice. "Get out of here. I'll meet up with you later."

"Why don't I think that's good?" Xander protested. But beggars can't be choosers, so he scurried off into another vent.

Bradley moved into another stance. The next sword attack went beyond the previous hit in speed. The subsequent separation saw Angel now having a long tear on his shirt.

Bradley smiled. He stood tall and calm in bored pride, tapping his sword on the floor like a cane. Then the eye patch broke. A warm wetness came to his upper lip. Blood.

And Angel set his sword on his shoulder and frowned.

"Mmm." Bradley sounded interested. This was a very skilled and swift opponent before him. This would be a fight without his vaunted Ultimate Eye. He trembled, excited. It was about time he had an interesting duel.

At the back gates of Central Command, guards saw to the departure and arrival of every official. The latest departing vehicle needed no pass or word to leave. It would be really hard for the guards to do so, since this limousine sped through the gates, driving away in reckless motion. They recognized the vehicle as General Hakuro's limo. All the windows were painted gray.
Two swords crossed for the umpteenth time. Strength supported each weapon, neither wielder giving quarter. The opposing faces tensed. Bradley's calm demeanor was breaking before this pressure. Angel remained morose.

So far, only a stalemate was made between the two swordsmen. Bradley found a quick victory difficult. This man's immunity to his power forced him to rely on his wits and skill for combat. He was also younger and quicker than his older self, Homunculus abilities notwithstanding (he never liked this unique aging ability the Master gave him). Still, it was fun. To risk and err was new, interesting. And he can actually use the rest of his body for a change. Earlier opponents barely made his legs move. "I haven't enjoyed a workout for a long time," Bradley darted for an opening. It failed.

"I can believe that, Gramps." Angel's swinging sword defense contrasted with Bradley's charged thrusts. His agility was quicker than Bradley's older form. Neither factors proved effective in showing an inevitable tide.

"The youth know nothing of their elders," Bradley smiled.

"Yeah they don't," Angel smugly complimented that statement. "Me, I'll never know, being 27 for the last two hundred years."

His defenses were unbreakable, but Bradley nonetheless was alerted to this man's reply. The words lacked falsehood, sounding genuine. "Than I should call you gramps. Wish I had your long youth."

"So you're one of those immortal but aging demons?" Angel parried and dodged. "Gonna end up wearing a diaper in the next eternity or so?"

"Touche," Bradley hid the rage of that insult's stab. And yet the opponent lacked any delight, carrying a scowl throughout. Quite a difference from his own amusement! He swung his blade at Angel's feet. He avoided it with a jump, skipping upon the wall and returning to the floor for a surprise attack. Bradley was ready.

"Hold!" cried another voice. The Homunculus paused and watched an officer arrive. He was that way as Angel's sword cleaved his head off.

The officer in entry turned pale at this horrible sight. "I said Hold!" He fired his pistol at Angel. A bullet tore into his shoulder, sending him back.

The officer moved in front of the Fuhrer's corpse. He growled his verdict. "You're under arrest, murderer."

His shoulder pulsating, Angel saw a greater danger than his assailant. "Get out of here, now!" The corpse popped out a new head. Angel tensed at the regeneration sight. Officer Baylock turned around. Too late. His head was swiftly removed; there would be no regeneration for him.

Angel's face became grimmer. He arose with a strong glare that surprised Bradley.

"Didn't know you cared." Bradley cleaned his red blade. His eyes barely fell on the officer he betrayed. "If anyone knew, I couldn't be Fuhrer anymore."

"Good ties of loyalty," Angel only spoke the words.

Bradley snorted with a restoration of nonchalance. "I can do anything I want."

And now Angel's scowl lifted a little!

Bradley showed no change in his new regenerated appearance. "Not dead I see."

"Already am."

Swords clanged again. The distance between faces was small. Intense expression met intense expression.

"You'd make a bad soldier."

"And you're a very bad leader."

"Can these humans do any better?" Bradley was now growling his words.

Again, any separation was short.

"Sorry. Demons in the government never work. Last one I knew got blown up."

"Interesting," Bradley didn't know if this figure was imagining things, or if he was speaking of a different reality. Did that mean more lands to conquer? "I never really dealt with anyone of your talent. I usually force the beginners to find another line of work. You remind me of one potential. I stabbed my sabre through his wrist. I actually considered slicing it off."

"Does this have a point?" Angel didn't show any concern.

"You do resemble him. He's dead now. Another one doomed for knowing too much."

Again, Bradley saw his opponent frown. Did he know General Hughes perhaps?

Soon the fight came to a balcony near a stairway. "As much fun this is," Bradley tried to decide the situation, "I think it's time to close it."

"The same thought entered my head." Angel was before the balcony. "Make this easy for me; let me kill you."

"Oh no," Bradley's refusal was polite. "Too much work to do." His attack wasn't. Angel's heart received cold steel. He leaned on the balcony. Bradley was glad. He swung his blade to behead. But Angel leaned all the way, his head missing the slice. His legs combined and rammed Bradley's stomach. The force knocked both opponents backwards. Angel added to the momentum by freeing himself from everything save the air. Such emancipation could not last as gravity snapped its whip.

Reeling from the blow, Bradley spied this fall with disappointment. A so-called immortal like this opponent could not die so easily. Some major mutilation was needed.

Bradley's eye pulsed with prediction. Six officers entered the scene. They looked shocked. "Fuhrer, are you wounded?"

"Just a scratch," Bradley made his warmest smile. "Officer Baylock wasn't so lucky." The officers headed to the balcony. "Where's the assassin?" asked one.

Bradley kept silent to this disappearance. The man had probably done a swift escape. His Ultimate Eye could not detect his whereabouts. And with these fools around he could not try a fast pursuit without showing his inhuman abilities. It was a draw.

Dammit.

All of Officer Baylock was carried away in a shrouded stretcher. Many saw him with respect.

"Whoever is responsible," Hakuro stared at the corpse. "He'll pay for this."

Bradley was silent. He sat by himself, refusing aid. Words failed him. Hakuro understood. Too many costs these few months for the father of the country. Colonel Hughes' murder, the army massacre at Liore, the betrayal of the Elric Brothers, now this sneak attack. Problems like this will be his responsibility as well, once he succeeded the Fuhrer.

Hakuro than saw Bradley walk to him. What a marshaling of strength! Hakuro thought in his astonishment. "General,' The Fuhrer spoke seriously, "I learned the intruders came from Drachma. This attack was for their nationalist pride."

Hakuro nodded. "We shall mobilize immediately!"

Officers searched the records room for the intruders. They found no one. No one hid behind them, dressed in their blue uniform. She blended with them and left when ordered.

Willow could snicker at her abilities and good luck, if she didn't feel a little tired. Her smart mind clicked with the fact that this place made magic very hard to use. Using spells felt like squeezing a magical watermelon through the eye of a needle. Did this mean her spell on Angel was failing?

At least Willow got her information, and she didn't have to use magic for that (too bad). One question on Maes Hughes, and the custodian gave her a lot. His reputation, rank, family, address, everything. Seemed like a really nice guy. And he looked like Angel without the frowns. She wasn't so lucky about his murder. So far, the killer was never discovered or apprehended. Of course, that didn't mesh with Angel's words that it was some shape-shifter that did it. She suspected a conspiracy.

Another thing Willow learned was that Alchemy was big here. The power to transmute via circles must be easier to do here than magic. The reputation was different too. Back in her world, be a witch and you're either called a weirdo or freak. Here, be an Alchemist and you get cushy jobs. Still, Willow didn't like the rules of Alchemy, its demands, costs, and consequences. Magic did not have consequences, despite words on the contrary.

Walking out of the building, Willow headed to the gates. A lot of guards were there. "Identification," cried the guard.

"I don't have to show you any," Willow demanded, magic swirling in her.

The guard repeated her line. "She doesn't have to show anything."

"Can I go now?"

"Go now," the guard responded sheepishly. The others shared his passivity.
Now safe, Willow fashioned her mind to call some people. Her only contact was Xander. He was the only one close by in her range. Angel and Spike were invisible to her, their telepathic presence as blank as their mirror reflections.

Enterprise to Xander…

Willow's mind found alien words. Hey Will!

Are you okay? Where are you?

About ready to meet Fat Albert.

Willow was puzzled.

I'm in a garbage truck.

Oh, Willow understood that part. Now she can try to understand why he was in a garbage truck.

Can we put that in the don't mind-ask category? Just don't worry about me. You find Dawn and company before Spike and Angel do. I'll meet up with you, somehow.

Okay, Willow took that for his word, and contently got to the Tara-Dawn search.

Angel struggled in a closet, waiting for the sword wound to seal. He pulled out several bullets. Why not let these wounds stay open and die? This thought was attacked with a forced return to sanity. Willow's spell was really powerful stuff (he was beginning to wonder if there were any limits to Willow's power and her control), sending him to a new level of depression he ever felt before. His grief for Buffy didn't help. Angel forced himself to think of other things. So the head of state was some sort of demon! He couldn't enact the dance of revolution right now. He had to find Cordelia, Lorne, Dawn, and the others.

Don't forget Maes Hughes. About time Angel thought about him. Has it been seven decades? The shock of his first evil act since his ensoulment caused a repression in memory, hiding its foul truth from his conscious mind. Only when Willow's spell hit him did that secret area open. He knew why. Even the experience with Lawson or Holland couldn't make this crime any less raw and painful. As if any of his crimes were any smoother.

Angel noticed these men recognized him as Maes Hughes. There was a resemblance. That's what peeved Angelus. Having a soul didn't make Angel a different person than his former self. He still knew, felt, and considered everything in the same way he did in his soulless days. Only now he suffered over such feelings and thoughts enough not to act on them. He remembered Spike sending him to this different world. Just like Pylea, the switching of dimensions messed him up. Here, it rendered his soul dormant. It wasn't removed; the soul still gave some heartburn, but its influence was no longer strong. He was Angelus again, with a vengeance.

And Hughes was the victim of his rage. This man was a reflection, reminding him of his humanity. Angelus didn't like to be reminded. He had suffered years of trying to act human, and here was this picture of himself as one! And a family man to boot! Angelus wanted that blotted out. He had to destroy it by destroying this 'twin's' humanity.

And here he was back to face a sin of his past. Would he kill another child of his? Like a father, Angel hoped for the best in his offsprings. Hughes was the first man he ever sired with a soul (okay, an inert soul, but different from nothing). Perhaps this made him different from Drusilla, Penn, and...

"They look smaller."

Lawson's remark came to Angel's thoughts, dimming the light. Nope. Didn't think so. Hughes was probably just a regular chip off the old block, killing innocents like the rest. Angel blamed himself for that. He found that only months had passed in this world since his last visit. Hughes had already done his crime. Then the sire would have to avenge the murdered.

If he can only get his act together! Angel realized he wasn't in the best rational state right now. He knew what coming back to this place meant. But Hughes aside, he couldn't abandon Cordelia. This was the second time; why can't that girl stay where she is, away from danger? She wasn't Buffy…Angel fought the oncoming flush of turmoil. No time for that. He had to save Cordelia and Buffy's sister Dawn.

No choice but to go. For that, Angel needed some leverage for this return visit. If taking a happy pill turned him into ensouled Angelus (whatever that means), than some depressing essence could give his inert soul enough juice to make him remain Angel. Willow volunteered for that one. So far her spell worked. He didn't feel the need to add negative and vengeful ideas to any feelings. His thoughts on Buffy's death did not come with the line should've killed the bitch myself. But the depression it gave was solid and overwhelming. He had to rely on 100 years of depression perseverance to keep going until...he became Angelus again. Will the spell last? In this world, who knows? Whatever the limit, it couldn't pass until his job was done.

He looked at the cafe mirror. He saw an old woman looking back. Envy liked seeing himself. He considered himself an artist, crafting his form to resemble other people. His original face was forgotten, despite some possible ideas. Actually, he preferred it so. The sight of it might shatter the mirror, by the force of his hand. His true form was too much a reminder of his background and what he lost. Right now in this cafe, Envy took the form of an old woman. It was a good resemblance to what was formerly Dante of the Forest.

By all accounts, Envy was supposed to be in the North, standing by to start a war up there. But the news of Liore reached even to that distance. Pride's order to arrest the Elric Brothers furthered his suspicion on what happened to them. The possibility enraged him. So he abandoned his post and went back to Central. Those kids will come here soon.

Such a hopeful confrontation meant the gain of his vengeance, by the Master's consent or not. Now, Envy was no fool ignoring the consequences of disobedience. But surely she would forgive this transgression? After all, the Master loved him above all her minions. Not that old fart puppet controlling the country. Not that slutty human wannabe who garnered the responsibility of searching for the Philosopher Stone. Definitely not that homewrecking whore who bore those brats!

Envy saw his anger was making strong fingerprints on the café table. He had to control himself. The point is that he is the most treasured Homunculus to Master. He had to be.

The mirror showed a woman and child entering the café. Their faces struck Envy with familiarity. Then came the sparking realization. That was the wife and daughter of the late Lieutenant Colonel…whoops Brigadier General Maes Hughes. Almost forgot the promotion Pride gave the dead man, Envy thought dementedly.

By his eyes, the woman seemed okay. No different from that photograph he used to take her form to kill her husband. She appeared displeased with a warrant posted on the wall. Pride sure didn't waste time enacting the Brothers' arrest.

"What is this?"

"Edward and Alphonse Elric," Envy recited the edict with an old voice. "Wanted. Suspected of Treason."

"Oh no," the mother's voice showed her shock. "This can't be true."

"Looks like it. Some nasty business in Liore."

Mrs. Hughes was not deterred. "There has to be a mistake. Those boys would never do anything horrible."

"Are they friends of yours?"

Mrs. Hughes nodded. "I believe in those kids. My husband believed in them. Why, if it wasn't for the Elrics, Elysia might not have been born."

The truth threw Envy's eyes upon the child. His attention became stuck on her. "So where is your husband?"

There was silence and sad faces. Envy was not disappointed. "Oh, sorry," he mouthed false sympathy in his old lady voice. "Men can be such pigs, leaving their wives and children for some young hot thing. I've had the experience too many times."

The child cried. "You're wrong…"

"Elysia." Mrs. Hughes sounded.

Envy faked more sympathy. "Oh, you poor misguided girl…"

"Shut up!" The child screamed her interruption. "My daddy would never do that! He loved Mommy and me! You're a mean an' stupid old woman!"

Recording that outburst in his mind, Envy took a foul glare. He did not like being interrupted or talked back, especially with such words.

"I'm sorry." Mrs. Hughes apologized for her daughter's behavior, but the tone of her eyes showed no tolerance for the remark about her late husband.

"Don't be. I was mistaken." Envy coldly left the cafe. Anyone who passed his female form would think nothing but seeing a gentle old woman. No one saw that pleasant face twist into something malevolent.

Okay brat, you need a lesson about fathers!

To be continued

The Dawn faces Hughes scene will have to wait until next time. Also, the lovers reunite!