“Angel! Look out!”

Fred yells out her friend’s name as one of the plant’s vines grabs her and hangs her upside down. Angel sees her, moves towards her, avoiding a snarling, toothy vine as he goes. Without many options available to him, the vampire grabs the vine and grapples with it, raising his spade.

All around Dublin, people are screaming. The plant is growing far quicker than before, the ground beneath the capital shaking as more vines break through the concrete and reach into the sky, budding and growing as they climb. And the beetles — more and more beetles — the creepy bugs swarming, people running, the streets in chaos.

Angel frees Fred and moves to catch her as she falls, but the vine holding her is persistent, reaching back out for her undeterred and grabbing her by her suspenders. She jerks back in shock, surprise, but then the suspenders break and she tumbles twelve metres toward solid stone. Angel catches her in the nick of time and helps her to her feet.

She rubs her head and turns back to the plant, the teeth struggling on the leathery material with its teeth.

“Thanks, Angel. Too bad about my suspenders though. I kind of liked the idea of a souvenir.”

Angel looks up as the plant suddenly sputters, making a noise like it’s coughing or gagging. It screeches in pain and then, without any warning, starts to shrink. It gets smaller and smaller, and the green hue vanishes. It starts to rot, turning a hideous brown colour, and the smell in the air starts to resemble mould.

Within minutes, the plant has dissolved into nothing and Angel and Fred can only stare at its remains in bewilderment.

“What the Hell were those suspenders made out of? And where can we get more?”

Fred gives him her best guess while she thinks some more. “It’s like it ate poison. Or anti‑matter. Anti‑reality maybe?”

“You’re the scientist. Not me.”

Fred’s face lights up with a theory. “Those suspenders were impossible, right? They would have crumbled to dust years ago if they hadn’t travelled with me, or at least they wouldn’t be new.” She reminds him that she acquired the clothing she’s wearing on the Galene, a ship that went to the bottom of the ocean — the clothes are a temporal anomaly and shouldn’t exist. Angel looks at her, confused, but then he catches up.

“Just like that thing is impossible in this reality. So we get rid of all our impossible cargo and reality goes back to being real, is that it?” He looks at Fred and then starts digging through his pockets, pulling clumps of dry hay out of his jacket. “All I really have is some hay from my father’s barn. If you’re not careful it gets everywhere.”

Fred tells him she’s going to pretend he didn’t say that. Angel, however, looks glum for a moment, holding his jacket in his hands.

“Aw, Hell. I’ll never get it all out,” he says, giving up after pulling three handfuls from his coat. “And I liked this jacket.”

Fred has begun to shed her clothing and looks at Angel as he removes the jacket. “This is going to get real awkward for me in a minute.”

In what seems to be a genuine concern for her host, Illyria transforms into reality in Fred’s place. Angel looks at her, slightly annoyed.

“You won’t show up to help me fight this thing, but you show up because Fred’s modest?”

“I do not pretend to comprehend such impulses myself. It is enough that it was making Fred uncomfortable.“

Angel tells her that this communication between the Old One and Fred is different than before. “This is new.”

“We have achieved a certain sympathy. You do not need to understand it.” Her tone suggests annoyance. She’s sympathetic to Fred, it seems.

Illyria materialises with Fred’s clothing in her hand. Angel wraps his jacket up in a ball and they both throw the clothing at the plant. Two of the buds eagerly chew on the material and the plants once again begin to dust.

Angel yells in triumph. It’s working. Illyria, however, sees a vine sprout — an unhealthy brown colour, but still moving by itself.

“No. It is growing again. It must be you,” Illyria says, turning to Angel. “You are causing this.“

Angel looks at her. “Me? We both travelled through time. Why only me?”

The Goddess is adamant. “Not you, yourself. Something you possess. Something you brought forward. Something you must now give up.“

Angel averts his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at her. She catches the moment and demands an answer: “Why do you hesitate?“

Angel looks at her and then the browning plant. “It’s smaller now. We could fight it and win this time, I know it.”

Illyria tilts her head. “But why? When we can send it straight back to its own Hell?“

“You make it sound easy.”

“It can be,” she states. “But it may soon grow far enough into our reality that there will be no stopping it at all.“

Angel doesn’t return her stare. He looks down at his feet, into his shadow on the floor in front of him. He looks sad. There’s tears in his eyes.

“So much has been lost. Do I really have to give this up as well?”

He pulls a small golden band from his pocket. The ring that Kathy gave him.

“It feels like Kathy being killed all over again.” He looks up at Illyria, questioningly. “Does that make any sense?”

She nods and moves towards him. “Grief and nostalgia seem twin burdens of having both a soul and a long life. It is harsh, but Kathy is dead. She cannot die again. She cannot know if you are loyal to her memory.“

She directs his attention to the streets around them. People are still screaming, the beetles still swarming. The situation is not getting better.

She lifts his hand gently into hers.

“But here and now, others can be saved. I won’t pretend to know if they deserve to be. That judgement is now yours to make.“

He looks back at the plant.

“But how do I know this won’t make everything even worse? What if all I do is erase Kathy?”

Illyria turns his face to hers and looks him straight in the eye, a surprising amount of emotion behind her words. “Kathy trusted you. She believed you were a good man, no matter what anyone else said. Nothing changes that. Unless you prove her wrong.“

Angel looks at the ground between them and closes his eyes. When he opens them a second later, he focuses on the ring in his hand. He throws it up in the air towards the nearest hungry plant bud. Without any hesitation the plant eats it.

Then there’s a ferocious screech. Angel thinks it’s what plants sound like when they’re in pain. It’s hideous and he covers his ears for a moment.

By the time the noise has gone, the swarm is dropping dead, insects falling to the ground, strewn everywhere. The plant and its vines shrivel up into that brown colour, the roaring gone now, silence in the street. As civilians and authorities alike get up and look around — some helping each other, some getting their phones out, others just sitting in shock — Illyria looks straight at Angel.

“It would appear the crisis has been averted.“

Angel looks around, but he’s not happy. He’s still looking sad. “Maybe. So all of this is my fault.”

Illyria doesn’t hold back. “In a way, yes. If you never existed in this time and place, it is likely none of this would have happened.” Then her voice calms, becomes softer, almost sentimental. “But in another way, no. You are no God, at least not anymore. You do not create and destroy. You cannot see the future.“

“But I’ve seen enough of how things work,” he justifies. “I should have guessed.”

Illyria disagrees wholeheartedly. “Not even I could do that. The mistake was unforeseen, and more my fault than yours. Even so, it was you who kept me from the brink. That was no mistake. It was your choice that healed the rift.“

They turn now, watching as people help each other — lifting debris, strangers proving that humanity is not all bad, reaching out for each other in times of need and receiving aid. Illyria is impressed.

“You see? You may lack the gift of prophecy, but that does not render you powerless.“

Angel races to help the police and the medical professionals, Illyria following him. Soon, however, she gets bored.

“Do not become too proud of that fact though. Even these gnat‑lived humans have agency, when they bother to use it.“

Angel chuckles as he turns to her. “Are you really trying to talk me out of guilt?”

“I merely state the obvious,” she states. “If you accept blame, you must also accept praise. Haven’t you learnt that yet? Decisions were made. Some were less helpful. But the outcome was everything desired, yes?“

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Angel says, looking awkward. Then he looks at her, grinning. “Was that a pep talk you just gave me, Illyria? You certainly are full of surprises.”

She regards his face carefully. “I may be shackled to a mortal, but I am still a Goddess. Don’t forget that, or you may get more of a surprise than you bargained for.“

And without another word, her tease in the air, Fred is back.

“Things get a little too human for Illyria?” Angel asks her.

“She’s touchy sometimes.”

“You know how immortals are. The longer you live, the harder it is to keep your temper.”

Fred chuckles. “To tell you the truth, I think it’s more that she sometimes forgets that you used to be mortal. But she respects you. If she didn’t, she never would have taken you travelling in the first place.”

Angel understands. He wants to know how Fred is feeling. “How are you holding up? I really hope things are okay between us. At least, you and Illyria seem to have come to an understanding.”

“It’s… I don’t know. I guess you could say it’s complicated. Of course, I could ask you the same question.”

“That answer is pretty complicated too. But at least we’re all capable of acting like adults.”

She turns, agreeing. “Right. Even if one of us is actually a tentacled elder God.”

As they continue to walk the quiet night‑time streets, Angel tells Fred that he never wants things to go wrong between them. He’s just unsure what to do about this situation. “I should have thought everything through better. I should have… I just should have thought.”

“Time travel should come with a warning label. Danger: may cause unintended consequences. Same goes for two people sharing one body. But you know what? As Illyria and I have gotten used to living together, we’ve also learned a secret. No matter who is in control, neither of us can force a decision the other is truly against.”

Angel looks at her, not sure if he’s hearing right. Is Fred implying what he thinks she’s implying?

“Like I said, it’s complicated,” Fred says, turning away. “All I know for sure is that ‘okay’ is a moving target. We’ve just got to adapt. Maybe we can’t change the past, but at least we can try to make a better future.”

“That sounds suspiciously like what Illyria was saying before she left.”

“We do agree on some things, you know,” Fred says, a smile on her face.

“If you two start doing that more often I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with it.”

Fred chuckles at him. “I guess you’ll just have to try.”

He turns to her, slightly more settled. More at ease. For a moment they just smile. Then he asks where they’re heading for.

“A hotel wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Fred says, stretching her arms above her head and yawning.

“Good call. The sun will be up soon.”

Fred sighs. “And I think all three of us deserve to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Any preference on where to stay?” Angel asks her.

“Yeah,” Fred responds as the three of them walk down the street, the sun rising on the horizon.

“Anywhere that isn’t haunted.”