Disclaimer: I do not own Dollhouse or Angel. No profit made, no infringement intended.


"You look just like her," the vampire admits, speaking to himself.

"What are you talking about, silly? I'm just plain old Winifred Burkle. Nobody looks like me," she replies with a perplexed smile.

He tries to smile back at her, his heart feeling colder than ever. He misses Fred more than he'd like to admit, and Illyria's lie stings more, so this will have to do. He can't argue that an imprint is better than a shell, when both rip the girl from her body. But Whiskey believes the lie, and in fleeting moments, he does too. Somehow that's enough.