If Beatrice had any dreams that night, they were not ones she remembered. Lips parted, she breathed deeply, breath rasping in her throat as loud and awkward snores. Everything was black. Existence meant nothing. There was no heat, no cold, no struggle or pain and in the action of feeling nothing at all, she found nirvana. She wanted to stay there in a world where there was no Cloud, in a world where she wasn't constantly worrying about those terrible creatures or the bomb on her throat.

So she slept.

She slept for hours, fell so deep in to the nothingness of her own mind that she was able to ignore the drop in temperature, for a while at least. Having lost all sense of time, having no idea how long she had been out, even as she started to come-to she did her damned best to ignore it.

Flashes of memories twisted in her mind. The day she met Chip, the day her nephew was born. Seeing Andrew's body, killed for just ten caps in his pocket. Hearing a courier got shot and knowing it was Chip. Being sure she'd never see his stupid smile again.

The day she saw hi-.

Her stomach was growling, aching so bad she felt a sound of agony escape her lips without actually realizing she had made any sort of noise. She was still snoring like a beast, giving Deathclaws a run for their money even as she shivered. God she was cold. A numb and mostly limp arm reached out blindly for a blanket but found nothing.

From her back, she turned on her side, wrapping her arms around herself as her knees drew up to her chest.

She heard something somewhere, a voice telling her words she couldn't make out and she ignored it completely. Her pip-boy had gone off, the old man had been telling her to get moving, but she settled for making an awkward choking sound on her own breath before she continued snoring. Her head turned, pressing farther in to the old mattress that smelled like alcohol and death.

It smelled like home. With that, she was able to almost convince herself that she was home, back in her little piece of the Mojave that belonged just to her.

Something touched her and she felt herself being shifted. She would have yanked away if she had the strength to do so and if the thing touching her wasn't so warm. There was another shift and she felt something being draped across her, scratchy and rough on her skin. She shivered once more, heard something by her ear, and reluctantly decided to wake up.

Pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes, she turned to roll on to her back and felt something very firm block her way. Laying awkwardly in the bed, she finally removed her hands and stared up at the Nightkin.

He stared back, sitting on the bed. There was something different in his eyes, a sense of worry she wasn't used to.

"You locked Dog away, but then release Dog. Want know why." The voice that spoke wasn't the one she knew.

It was meeker, more unstable.

"The hell?" She grumbled, feeling her own voice rasp in her throat. She was groggy and her vision hadn't even cleared up yet.

"Dog want know why human released him. Does Master want dog to help human?"

She squinted at him, staring long and hard at his face. It was the face of God, familiar in so many ways, the face she had already become moderately accustomed to looking at, yet, it did not belong to him. The eyes were wrong. They did not hate the world, did not hold it at arms length. These eyes cared too much.

This was not God.

An uncomfortable feeling landed in her gut.

"Your Master?" Bracing one hand on the bed, she sat up and leaned forward. Legs crossing, the rugged blanket fell off and in to her lap. That must have meant the Old Man. "Uh. Yeah, yeah he put me in charge. Said ya had to work with me, listen to what I say."

Dog seemed to consider this, heavy brows furrowing. There was something about her voice, a natural confidence that made her easy to believe. "Dog can do that. Dog can follow Master's orders and listen to human. Human let Dog out, locked voice away, that mean human nice."

The redhead stretched. While she slept, her muscles had tensed up, leaving her aching. Hurting. "Dog, what happened? How did you come –er- out?" Shit was that the right way to phrase it? Would he be offended?

"Master spoke, sent other voice back in to cage and released Dog." He seemed pleased about this. "Voice quiet now, pain in arm keeping him away."

Beatrice blanched, cursing in her mind. She had told God she wouldn't lock him away again. But, this wasn't her fault. The Old Man, it was him, he had come on her pip-boy without warning. She hadn't put God away, not intentionally. Shit was he going to be mad at her?

Dog seemed to read her expression of contemplation and he grabbed her forearm a bit harder than he meant to. He watched her flinch, pain flickering in her blue eyes, but he didn't let go. "Don't send Dog back in cage. Dog doesn't want to go away again. Please don't do it. Dog doesn't like cage." It was fear that colored his words, made his speech pick up in pace.

She winced at his touch. "Hey, hey, relax." She tried to sound soothing. "I'm not going to lock you away until you feel better about it, okay? We can talk about it when you trust me more."

He gave a slow, tentative nod.

"How 'bout you let me get up 'n get ready 'n then we'll handle this. How does that sound?"

"Sound…good. Dog like human."

The simplicity of the creature didn't sit well with her. There was a natural danger to him, something that made her feel like she was in danger just by being in the room with him. But more than that, he needed someone to follow. People blindly following anyone left her feeling dirty.

She looked at her skin. Damn, she really was dirty.

Blood flaked off of her arms, dirt and grime mixing with sweat to give her a second layer of skin, a greasy film. Lifting on to her feet, she stepped off of the bed and felt her feet stick to the floor below her.

At the end of the bed was a backpack. She stared at for a moment, mouth hinging open as she had been preparing to say something to Dog. The backpack caught her off guard and she thought for a moment.

"Dog, did you get this?"

The Nightkin shifted to look before he shook his head.

If not Dog…then God must have gotten it for her. She wasn't sure if he had done it to just stop her complaining or actually help her, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth- whatever the fuck that meant.

"Oh." She breathed the sound before shaking her head, pushing the thought away. "I'm gonna see if the bathroom has any workin' water. Just, uh, wait here okay?"

Dog nodded. "Yes, okay."

Eerie. Turning, she headed in to the adjoining room and just the door. Her stomach hurt so bad it was hard to walk, but she powered through. Shower first, eat second.

Her mind flickered back to the pile of gold slot coins on the end-table. She thought she had seen a vending machine not too far from here.

Yeah, that could work.

The bathroom had a mostly broken mirror, not that she really cared, but the tub with the shower head seemed to be relatively intact. Stepping on the broken tile, ignoring the pain in her feet, she twisted a knob and watched as the shower spurted, gurgled, and finally spilled water from the head. The pressure sucked balls, but the water was clean and she couldn't really hope for any more. It was working, and that alone was enough to please her.

The hot water didn't work, but icy showers were nothing new.

She quickly untied the sleeves of her jumpsuit from around her waist and wriggled out of it. Pealing off her bra and boxers, she sat them aside and stepped in to the tub. The water washed over her, jolting her awake and stinging her eyes with just how cold it was.

It felt like life.

Grabbing the ancient bar of vault-tech soap that unfortunately had a scent, she scrubbed down. She worked at her arms and legs, watching the grime form in clumps before it slid off her body disappeared down the drain. She scrubbed until her skin was rubbed pink and raw, and as she scrubbed, she sang whatever song came to mind. Flipping her hair over, she ran her soapy hands through the tangles, working until she feared the water was about to run out, until she was finally clean.

As the last of the suds washed away, she turned off the water and stepped back out. She was shaking, quivering, but she was clean. Wringing her hair out, she shook it like a wet dog in order to loosen up her soaking curls. It would dry on its own time.

Pulling her undergarments back in to place, Beatrice paused.

She looked at her arm.

It was infected, anyone with half a brain could realize that. What she had to do was clean it out. Testing the sink, pleased when she saw that too worked, she decided now was as good of a time as any to drain it.

The door opened and she stepped out. The arms of the jumpsuit was still tied around her waist and she was holding her arm. Bloody lymphatic fluid and yellow gunk was washed down the sink, but now she had a fresh and open wound.

Dog was still sitting there, waiting.

Digging through the backpack she found that it not only had another bottle of water in it as well as the items she had kept shoved in her pocket, but gauze as well. She made quick work of wrapping her arm, hoping that this time things would end better for her. As she worked, she hummed. It filled the silence of the air. It was noise.

"Human," there was almost a whining tone to Dog's voice, "Dog hungry."

"I know sweetie, I'm hungry too." She had hoped the backpack would also have food in it, but she wasn't so lucky. "We'll get somethin' in a little bit."

"But Dog hungry now."

The words made her uncomfortable. Shifting awkwardly, she pulled the jumpsuit in to place and the teeth zipped shut with a creaking sound. Tossing the backpack on her shoulders, she fiddled with the straps to make sure it was secure. Just as she was about to do a quick look around the house, there was a sound.

She didn't move and Dog fell silent save for his heavy rasping breathing.

Slowly, Beatrice turned her head to look down the stairwell, craning to try and see in to the gloom.

Reaching out she grabbed her knife-spear and stepped back. Dog didn't seem perturbed. That in mind, she got a good grip and stepped out of the bedroom. A hand lifted, fingers brushing against the rotting wall as she descended with brisk steps. Angled half to the side, she hunched down the lower she got. Reaching the bottom landing, she peered around the corner.

"Shit!"

Managing to lurch back just in time, a throwing spear imbedded itself in the wall behind her. While she had managed to stop her skull from being impaled, she found that the cosmic knife taped to the end had sliced off a lock of her hair.

Turning back to face the attacker, the ghost person, she watched it for a moment, the way it shambled towards her. Jaw clenching, teeth grinding against themselves, she waited. Even though she was prepared, though she knew what was going to happen, it still shook her nerves to the core when the creature closed the distance between them with a single leap. Stepping back she found the stairs and jabbed her spear at it.

It dodged. Moving forward it threw a punch at her and beside her ear, she heard the sound of a bear trap snapping shut. She bobbed to dodge its blows, working it in to the exact position she wanted it to be in. Twisting, knees bent and on the balls of her feet, Beatrice was about to jab her spear in to the creature's throat when a deafening roar seemed to stop both of them.

There was a thundering shaking that left Beatrice unstable on her feet and that was the moment she realized she had made it half way up the stairs.

Dog was charging down towards them, roaring, and that was the moment she decided this was it. This was how she was going to die. It had been only a matter of time from the beginning, after all.

It was instinct that made her move. She threw herself forward, curling in on herself as she barely managed to slip under the ghost person's arm. She tumbled down the stairs. Hitting the wall at an odd angle, she stared up at the ceiling for just a moment.

Then, she realized that Dog hadn't stopped charging.

Ghost caught in his massive paw like hands, he had been unable to stop himself.

"Shit shit shitshitSHITSHITSHIT!" She was yelling as she scrambled to her feet. The worn down grips on her boots made it hard for her to find any purchase on the ground. Stumbling forward, one hand pressing on the ground, she tucked and tumbled out of the way.

Landing a crouched position, hair strewn across her face and shoulders like a wild mane, she looked back only once before she darted out of the house.

Over the sound of her labored breathing and pounding heart, she heard bones pop between Dog's maw and the screaming of the creature that had been unfortunate enough to be caught by the starving nightkin.

Skidding outside of the home, she slammed the door shut and looked around. The streets were deceptively empty and she kept her back pressed against the dirty clay wall. Still, she could feel people watching her, like spiders crawling up her spine and twisting around her neck with spindly legs. Heart pounding in her chest, straining to burst out of her ribs, she didn't dare let go of her weapon, didn't dare let herself relax for even a moment.

Alert eyes darted, scanning her surroundings, and she felt the pain from her fall beginning to blossom in her limbs.

Using her hand like a wide toothed comb, she ran it through her hair and shoved it out of her face. She could still hear Dog, the sounds muffled but none the less disgusting. Her stomach lurched and she was forced to lean forward, hand bracing on her knee as her stomach tried to purge itself.

Only, there was nothing there.

Dry heaving, she tried to settled the convulsions that left her body shaking. Spitting acidic saliva on the ground, she shut her eyes and shivered. Her esophagus burned and the aching in her abdomen almost made her topple over. Yet, she still stood. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she stood up straight and let the nausea settle down.

The sounds had stopped.

Moving away from the wall, she stepped out into the open street, facing the door in preparation. Her nerves still weren't all there, but she didn't have much of a choice at this point. Dog was a massive creature and the odds of him being satisfied with one person were slim to none. No, she was next. She knew she was next.

The door she had slammed shut opened and Dog crouched down, squeezing through before lifting once more, shoulders hunched and rolling low. A stench hit her and, for a moment, she almost hurled again. Full lips rolling in to a thin line, her nostrils flared and she realized what it was.

In his hand, Dog held an arm. Green blood oozed from the end, dripping like sludge on to the ground beside him.

It was like something from her nightmares.

He took a step towards her and, instead of popping her head off and jamming it in his mouth he held the arm out to her. The limp hand flapped at her, landing at an awkward and broken angle.

"Human said she was hungry." He offered an explanation simply. "Dog fix."

She brought a hand to her mouth as he shoved the arm closer to her. Her stomach lurched again and it took every ounce of effort she had to not dry heave once more. Beatrice had eaten worse things before in her life, things that others would condemn her for, but this was a step too far even for her.

"Uh, listen Dog, that's," she stepped back, "real nice 'a ya to do, but, uh- you should eat it instead. Yer bigger than me, you need more energy."

He looked almost sad. "Human sure?"

Beatrice craned her head away from the offering. "Yeah, yes, I am very sure."

That seemed to pacify him and, without warning, he took a bite that left half of the arm in his mouth, bone snapping too easily.

Blood rushing out of her face, she covered her mouth with a hand and turned away as she dry heaved once more.

Dog wasn't terribly concerned.

Gathering herself as quickly as she could, the ex-raider stumbled away from him and spat to the side once more. She had seen animalistic people before, had lived with them, had been one, but no one was ever like this. He was a simple creature, determined and terrifying.

He muttered to himself as she walked and Beatrice made an active effort not to listen to him.

She was fatigued, more so than she should have been after a blood rushing fight like that, and she knew why. She needed food, now.

Finding a vending machine proved not to be too difficult. In the dark smog, the glowing blue screen caught her attention. Where she had once been schlumping along, Beatrice closed the distance to the machine with a quick jog. Bracing one hand on it, she looked at the screen. Fuzzy images of food and drink greeted her along with the prices tacked on at the side and she could feel her mouth watering already. Swallowing the thick saliva, she fished out her coins and dropped them in.

Dog watched curiously, looming over her shoulder as the machine produced a can and a bottle of water.

It was still cold.

Gathering the items, she grinned at Dog as though she had just been given the key to New Vegas. Not quite understanding her excitement, Dog grinned back, though he looked much more intimidating than she did.

Not even bothering to find a better place to sit, Beatrice dropped down beside the machine, keeping her back to the wall. Setting the spear aside, she pried the can open and groaned quietly. Vienna sausages were never her favorite, but right then she would have murdered for it. She had never smelled anything so delicious.

It took her less than five minutes for her to scarf the can down, barely chewing before she swallowed the old contents and rubbery chunks of meat. Occasionally washing it down with the cold bottle of purified water, she just barely kept from choking. There was no grace in the way she ate, or how she wiped her mouth clean with her fingers and licked the salty flavoring from her skin.

She never once shut her eyes. To do so would mean she was comfortable, and that was one thing she was not. No, even with Dog there she was ready to jump at any moment, muscles drawn taunt in preparation. She was hyper aware of everything moving around her, of the wind that shifted the cloud and made papers and trash flutter down the roads.

Standing, she dropped the can and twisted her arm to fit the water bottle inside her pack. Adjusting the straps once more to ensure it was secure, she motioned with her arm for Dog to follow.

"Come on, we're almost there."

He trailed behind her, obediently, and made a quiet whining sound in the back of his throat. "Human is going to put Dog back in cage soon?"

"I have to." Her answer was quiet, if a bit reluctant. She rounded a corner. "But I ain't gonna do it until you trust me. I gotta put you back in, but I'll let you back out too."

"Really?" There was a disbelieving hopefulness in his question.

"Really. We're teammates in this, partners, I gotta trust you 'n you gotta trust me or we won't make it outta here 'n one piece. Got that?"

He nodded just as she reached the fountain and, for her, that was good enough. She let out a breath, feeling her shoulders deflate slightly. The hologram still stood there, her voice welcoming and soothing. Dog shifted, looking unsure.

"Human-."

"Bea." She corrected. "Just…just call me Bea, alright?"

He made that whining sound again. "Bea going to leave Dog here? Alone with voice? Voice beginning to get loud again, yelling at dog, at Bea."

She blanched at that. So he was mad.

Shit.

"I won't be long, Dog. I promise. Just…take a seat on the fountain and wait for me to come back. Don't leave, don't do nothin', got it?"

He moved to where she had pointed and she watched him lower his hulking form on to the low edge of the fountain. With his knees bent, arms resting on them, he looked like a child who had been told he had to stay in time-out.

Beatrice wasn't sure if this thought was endearing or creepy.

Turning away from him, she offered one last wave with the hand that wasn't holding her spear and headed down one of the paths she had yet to explore. She already had to break in to a two-hundred year old casino with a Nightkin with personality issues, she wasn't sure her next companion could make things much worse.

But she had been wrong before.