Blood and Chaos: The Story of a [BTVS] SI Turned Vampire OC

[Aetheron]

This story is brought to you by a the boredom of a slow shift, my morning cup of coffee, and the depressing realization that any realistic SI involving myself can be summed up by:
"He died. Horribly."
But... death in the Buffyverse is hardly the end. Sometimes it's just a beginning. A pseudo-SI turned vampire story.

Crossposted from SpaceBattles because... well...

On that note have you ever considered crossposting? QQ's SFW section is woefully under populated.

Click to shrink...

So please tell me if the copy-pasting looks like it murdered the formatting, ate half the chapter, or if I forget a Threadmark again.

Warnings/Disclaimers/Reviews:

...I worry how much this fic has led to me getting attached to characters who are unrepentant monsters.

Click to shrink...

Jackie boy is the most entertaining friend-shaped wrecking ball I've read in the Buffy verse, Fite me.

Click to shrink...

Also, IOU one Glossary and Dramatis Personae section-thing here but looking at the one on SpaceBattles to copy paste it just reminded me that it's hella out of date and I don't have the coffee in me to fix that just now.

 

[Aetheron]

I wake up on a sheet of metal on the roadside. I add sleep walking to my mental 'what the hell' list right next to bizarrely vivid dreams of a man and woman in togas dragging me through a tunnel while shushing each other and giggling. Did that guy have two faces? Weird. I feel... like I've been dragged through a rough hewn tunnel for hours and then dumped on the roadside actually. And I think I was allergic to the dirt along the way, because everything itches.

Standing up is a struggle just barely within my capabilities at the moment, leaving me winded as I stare down at the bed of metal I woke up on. It seems to be a sign of some sort. I stagger back a step and squint at it, feeling woozy on my feet.

"Welcome to Sunnydale"

...

The fuck?

A hand grips my shoulder tightly and spins me around. A pair of pale blue eyes stares back at me from mere inches away. The brunette woman they belong to seems familiar in a most distressing way. I reflexively try to back away, but my feet won't move.

"Naughty, naughty, little starlings, trying to be sneaky while the stars are having a party. The other stars won't like it when they find out about my present." She giggles.

O...kay... I'm in Sunnydale, being stared at by Drusilla. Can I wake up now?

"Silly little alien, you're not asleep."

I must have said that last bit out loud. Wait a minute, "Alien?"

She nods her head at me happily, "Oh yes, you crashed down from the stars out of nowhere." She looks down and nudges the sign with her foot. "I don't think your rocket ship will fly anymore though, such a waste. I'd have liked to taste the stars." She meets my eyes again and the foot I had been trying to slide back away from her stops moving without my consent and despite my best efforts to make it continue doing so. "But now I'll have my very own alien to play with, I like this so much better than getting old man stuck my teeth. I must remember to thank Miss Edith for telling me you'd be here."

In an instant Drusilla is wearing her gameface, there's a pain at my neck, and the world fades to darkness.

 

[Aetheron]

---Inside of A Coffin---

I wake up in a coffin. Mother always was a fan of tradition.

The first half-hour of my unlife is spent clawing my out of the ground. Mother's traditions suck.

I emerge hungry, angry, and more than a little confused. Mother should be here. She isn't. I'm in a garden full of weeds and broken statuary, but no Mother.

There's a rudimentary tombstone on the ground near my feet. It reads "Here lies my alien, he lived for 10 minutes" with the date May 12th 1998. I snort. 10 minutes sounds about right.

Going by the sign and the date on the tombstone, I'm in Sunnydale, at the end of season... 2? I believe if my father's memories of the show are to be believed. I'll have to test that somehow. There are far too many fantastic opportunities just waiting to be exploited if they prove to be accurate. I don't even try to resist the cackling laughter that erupts from me as I continue to explore.

That large stone building must be the mansion Mother was staying in with William and Grandfather. It's far too quiet now for anyone to be home. Perhaps I slept through the big finale? That... would explain why Mother isn't here. William must have run off with her, the bastard. William the Bloody Monopolizer of Mothers.

Then again, if he hadn't, there'd be no world for me to wake up in. He had a point with the happy meals on legs bit. My stomach gurgles. Screw it. I'm far too hungry for philosophy.

I'm not more than three steps outside the mansion's cast-iron gate when a woman comes jogging around the corner and runs straight into me. The rapid, rhythmic beating of her heart distracting me until she's barreled straight into me, not quite able to stop herself in time. We go down in a tangle of limbs. She smells of lilacs and sweat and human which I can't quite explain but she does, and it's absolutely intoxicating.

I feel... high on life. Literally. I'm flooded with warmth. I don't even recall feeling cold, but in retrospect it feels obvious that this was just missing until now.

I don't even register that my fangs are out until after the scent of blood floods my senses and she's been dead for over a minute. Embarrassingly I think I've been sucking on her neck for that whole minute without noticing my drink was empty. I make sure to push my gameface back down before pushing myself back up onto my feet and then pulling her corpse up with me.

No one seems to be around to have noticed anything. Convenient, that, so I drag her into the mansion.

Signs of recent battle, and a sword-less Acathla statue confirm my earlier theory that I'm late to the party. The mansion is wrecked pretty thoroughly aside from the stone walls themselves and occasional surviving piece of furniture.

I dump my kill on the ground and rummage through what few pockets her jogging outfit has. The cash and keys get shoved into my pockets and then I pull out my phone to see how far away the address on her driver's license is.

...

...

I continue to blink stupidly at the bulky Nokia brick-like phone thing in my hand. In retrospect I don't know what I really expected. It's not like original iPhones are almost a decade away from existing or anything, let alone sixes. I guess this is the 1998 equivalent? That's fucking depressing.

Adapting to being a demon wearing the man I remember being like a suit? That's easy. I suspect even father could have managed that.

Adapting to using technology almost 2 decades old? Oh fucking hell no. This sucks.

I stagger over to one of the few unbroken chairs and flop into it feeling nearly boneless. There was a brief moment of hope when I realized that magic could probably fake many of the missing bits technology couldn't handle yet before I remembered that Grandfather ate the only techno-pagan I can name. William was right, Gramps is a wanker. I'm not sure how long I sat there before I got over the shock of seeing this museum piece in my hand. Eventually, I realized that the thing was off because the battery had drained while I was busy being a corpse and the whole topic was moot. Not like I know anyone's phone number here in Bizarro California anyway.

Okay. I'm being ridiculous. I know it. I survived being a kid in the late nineties; I'll survive being an 'adult' in the late nineties. It's not like I have to relearn how to use DOS. I'm pretty sure Windows computers have start menus and everything by now.

It finally occurs to me to check the contents of my own pockets. I find out my Leatherman made the journey with me, which is cool I suppose. Of course the keys that were attached to it last I checked are all gone, replaced by a weird looking bottle opener, which is redundant. There's a wallet in my pocket I've never seen before. No credit or debit cards in it, but I think I remember using cash more often back in '98 and there's a couple of twenties in it, so I guess that makes as much sense as anything else around here.

Oh! My driver's license.

... Maybe...

In my hand is a California Driver's License, with my face on it. But, "Who the fuck is Jack Winters? Hang on; this says I was born in 1980 so I'd be almost 18 now. How's that work?" I'm neither 18, nor born in 1980... so... what the hell?

It takes me half an hour to find a mirror to see if I look younger now, and about 3 seconds after that to remember I'm not on the membership list for the reflections club anymore. The face on my license looks like it always did, but then again it's been ages since I had that photo taken. Maybe I can get someone to take a Polaroid of me or something.

I keep rummaging through "my" wallet, may as well get through all the shock induced heart attacks right away. There isn't anything else truly shocking though, just weird. Emancipation and enrollment paperwork, apparently I'm a Sunnydale High senior starting this fall, both also in the name Jack Winters.

"Well, I guess Jack's as good a name as any. Not like I wasn't aware that I'm technically not me anymore anyway." The last name Winters however makes me twitchy. The slayer being a Summers makes me suspect I'm either being set up, or someone... thing... thinks they're funny. Probably both.

---Jogger Lady's Apartment---

Has the universe ever blindsided you with something so incredibly simple that you can't believe it surprised you? Something so very mundanely banal that despite being caught completely off guard, you can only just stare at it while thinking to yourself, "Duh. Of Course that's a thing, how did I forget those?"

That's me right now.

I'm a blood demon. I was literally 'born,' after a fashion anyway, mere hours ago. I'm animating the corpse of a man who was kidnapped from his home reality by what looked like two Greeks or Romans or whatever in actual fucking togas. Mother called them starlings, but she was already gone when I woke up so I can't exactly make her explain. I only know any of this because I ate his memories when I took over his body. Are starlings people with two faces? Or is that just what Mother calls drunken frat boys?

Anyway, I'm standing in the apartment of a woman I killed by drinking her blood within an hour of first waking up. A few moments ago I was putting on the gloves I bought at the local gas station and looting the place for valuables. Before that I was wandering around town semi-aimlessly only stopping occasionally to ask for directions. Sunnydale natives? Not so helpful when you knock on their doors at 10-11 pm. Until you explain that you're lost and just need directions to somewhere else. It seems that the trick is to not want to come inside and eat them. Who knew right?

Currently? I'm staring slack jawed at a book on her coffee table like it's the Holy Grail. Right now it may as well be. It's a fucking phone book.

I was so depressed when my... err... my father's... fuck it, he died, it's mine. My iPhone! Mine! Which no longer exists yet. The important point is that it wasn't in my pocket, and somehow the idea that being two decades in the past also meant that phonebooks still exist... never occurred to me. I wonder if William had one of these in the mansion already? He was always more on the ball about keeping up with 'modern' tech than your average vampire. Or maybe he just liked watching TV?

I flat out cackle gleefully as I begin paging through it, because it has a map. Great Grandmother would be so embarrassed by me right now but I don't care because she's dust at the moment and I have a phone book with a map! Need a robot? Warren Mears' address is in here. Need someone to cast a spell? The Madisons, Rosenburgs, Wells, Levinsons, and even that weird little magic shop with a revolving door of ownership, are all in my new book. I wish I could remember what the Pylean Dance of Joy looked like so I could do it right now. I settle for another round of gleeful cackling and celebratory arm waving.

...

Huh. There's an idea, two actually. First: No wishing, not out loud, and not in my head either, not worth the risks. Second, I should look into memory spells. Dredge up actual details from the show so I can test them for accuracy. Wouldn't it be sad if I made elaborate plans based on father's memories and it turned out he was just a crazy person with delusions of precognition. Actually... speaking of my father, I wonder if I'm in... Nope, I'm not, there are no Winters listed in the Sunnydale phonebook. The street listed on my license is on the map however. I'll have to check it out. Someone or more likely something went through an awful lot of trouble to get him here and settled in. I really ought to look into that.

Continuing to loot the place nets me some cash hidden in her sock drawer and a new watch. It's girly, so I won't wear it, but knowing that its 2am right now seems handy, so into my pocket it goes. I pack a suitcase full of her clothes, so it looks like she went somewhere in case my memories of the SPD's lack of job performance prove inaccurate, and toss it all in her car's trunk before declaring the car mine by right of conquest as well. If nothing else the socks might fit. Thinking about the watch again, I go back inside and snag her alarm clock for good measure.

---My Home, Allegedly---

I park recently deceased chick's car at the address listed on my license. It's a hole. As in the hole in the ground they dig for a foundation. The CRC construction sign claims someday there will be a McDonald's there.

I'm not sure how to feel about this.

On the one hand I don't magically have a home. On the other hand this is the first sign I've seen that whatever kidnapped my father may have limits to its powers. Come to think of it, I should verify if the documentation I have is legitimate or just a better forgery than I can detect... not like I have any talent at telling the difference.

Of course, it also begs the question: Was the universe trying to tell him that he's a happy meal on legs? And Mother merely moved the lesson forward a few hours? I'm not sure how to feel about that either. Could the message have been that I'm still just a happy meal on legs? He's gone now, but I'm still here... How would I even tell? Cast 'Summon Bigger Fish' and see what shows up?

...

"SUMMON BIGGER FISH!"

Nothing happens. Typical. The universe really needs a better GM.

---Near Angel's Abandoned Mansion---

I park the car a few blocks away and head to the mansion with my loot, minus the suitcase of woman's clothing.

There's a squatter in what I think was the living room when I get arrive. He's rummaging in one of the closets as I walk through the door. I can hear his lack of heartbeat, but I can tell he's a vampire and not a zombie by smell. That's interesting. My nose comes with some pre-calibration.

"Hey man, you heard about the crew staying here getting cleared out by the slayer too huh?" he greets me amicably while I'm sorting out the various scents I can detect now. Newly dead chick smells like death now that it's been a few hours. It's not a bad smell like I would have expected either, it just... is. Maybe because the various chemicals involved aren't bad for me anymore.

"Uh yeah, seemed like a good place to crash for the day," I tell him, looking around like I've never seen the place before, but thanks to my nose I don't really need to fake the mild confusion. "I think I'll take one of the rooms upstairs. That okay?" I'm not sure if it's lacking a pulse to race, or being a demon now, but either I'm a much better liar than I recall being in life... or fledgling vampires really are as borderline retarded as I remember them being depicted on TV. Either way, he agrees to my taking one of the rooms upstairs and then turns back to the closet. I cave his skull in with a broken piece of rebar that was lying nearby. Do vamps normally just... get along with each other by default? Meh, it might be paranoid, but I'm going to continue to assume most vamps act like my recollections of William the Bloody until proven otherwise. I have no intention of being forced to greet the sunshine any time soon.

Speaking of which, I had best hurry up. Sunrise is coming. I loot and then dust the intruder, before setting to work returning to the blackout curtains that were knocked down in the recent fighting to their proper places. A few of the curtains and rods are lost causes, forcing me to abandon a few of the less useful looking rooms as lost causes as well, pulling their doors closed instead.

I scrounge up some paper and a pen but my plan of spending the day plotting out what needs to be done is scuppered the moment the sun pokes out above the horizon.

I immediately feel like I'm a cup of coffee short of quota but over-caffeinated at the same time. No good will come of doing any serious planning while the ants are crawling behind my eyeballs. Daytime activities are clearly a last resort only now. Irritation rising rapidly, I flop down on the bed that still smells faintly of Mother and prepare to spend the rest of the giant yellow cancer ball's journey across the sky unconscious.

...

I suspect I may have inherited father's insomnia. Gods Damn It.

 

[Aetheron]

---The Magic Shop---

The urge to beat this kid to death with one of his new age hippie books has slowly made the jump from amusing stray thought to serious consideration. I suppose it isn't entirely his fault, I was pretty annoyed before I even got here. I had to drag myself out of bed during the day and hug the shadows to get here before closing time. I could have waited for sunset, but then I'd have been that guy that shows up just before close demanding service. They go to the special Hell.

I'm fairly certain that I'd have snapped and eaten him already if I hadn't found the remnants of William's stash of blood bank packets in the fridge from when he was allegedly crippled. Drinking cold blood was like drinking warm lemonade, and without enough sugar too, but they sated the gnawing hunger that had pulled me out of my failure of a nap before the sun had finished buggering off.

I think something of my thoughts must have leaked into my expression because the sales clerk guy finally admits to the owner keeping the less touristy books in the side room. "Thank you," Ginkgo Biloba indeed!

Of course, now I've traded a man with far too much enthusiasm for herbs and homeopathy for a room full of books that aren't in English. Most don't even seem to use the same alphabet. The sales kid, who is probably "older" than me if my new license is to be believed, doesn't follow me. I guess I can't fault his survival instincts for that decision. I look around with a grimace, once again lamenting Google's failure to properly exist yet, and start looking through the titles for something that sounds like memory, carefully avoiding the beam of sunlight coming through the back window.

I'm halfway around the room, having made zero progress, when a blond girl walks in. She looks familiar. "I don't suppose you can read... uh... whatever this is," I gesture towards the book either titled or written by whatever "الشعلة الحية" means. She laughs, but whether it's at my general helplessness or if the book title is something embarrassing I can't say. "Yeah, I may have been a bit hasty chasing off the sales guy, but I couldn't handle any more of his homeopathic... huh, it occurs to me now that if this stuff works there may actually be something to the Ginkgo Biloba stuff he was pushing."

"Ginkgo Biloba? Having trouble with... memory?" She scrunches up her nose in thought on the last part. "Oh! I'm Amy by the way." A familiar looking blonde named Amy. I wonder...

"Jack." I nod and smile at her in lieu of risking initiating a handshake. "And yes. Or, well, I mean, my memory is working the way it's supposed to, but I'm hoping to find a way to dredge up the details on something from a decade ago." Looking pointedly around the room, "Allegedly there's a spell in here somewhere for forgetting things. Hopefully the reverse is also true? And not like hypnosis where my brain just plays mix and match with details to make something plausible up either." The devil is in those details after all when it comes to testing the validity of my 'memories' from the show.

"Hmmm..." she's tapping her finger against her chin and looking around the room, "Something you saw?"

"Yeah, or at least it was on TV and I saw it on the screen if that matters."

"Maybe... Well, let's take a look, I'm getting pretty good at the Latin and Greek stuff... but you might have to ask Mr. Velissaropoulos or Mr. Giles if you want to know what language... that... is." She points at the book I'd indicated earlier.

"Gods sneeze you, and who?" I only have to fake half of my confusion this time.

"Huh? Oh! Mr. Velissaropoulos owns the store. He's Greek, I think? He's usually only here on Wednesdays and Thursdays though, most of the time he's out finding stuff. Mr. Giles is the librarian at school, he knows a ton of languages, and some of the books on his desk make that one look normal." Her smile turns sheepish. "Err... And I'd avoid trying to read any of them out loud."

I laugh, recalling Xander igniting a book that way, "Yeah... I learned that lesson too. Unfortunately." I hold up my hand which still looks a tad singed from where it clipped a bit of sunshine when I wasn't paying enough attention. Worst. Sunburn. Ever. "Oops?"

My mood improves as steadily as the sun sets while we search. Before I know it Mr. Biloba is telling us they're getting ready to close. Amy suddenly looks nervous; glancing out the window shows the last few rays of sunlight dwindling down. Ah. Makes sense, the girl that can do actual magic would be aware of what comes out after dark in this town. "Something wrong, Amy?"

"It's just later than I thought." She looks at me, then out the window again. "My mom has some books on this stuff back home. One of them should have the spell she cast on me to help with studying for school, might be something helpful in there."

I grin back at her. "Sounds great." I think she just drafted a vampire to walk her home as added protection against... meeting a vampire on her way home. I stifle a giggle. "Shall I walk you home?" This much fun simply can't be healthy.

---Madison Residence---

Apparently being spooked by a loud noise and then telling me to hurry up while gesturing at the doorway constitutes an invitation? That or agreeing to have me over to look through her mother's books back at the shop does. Either way the doorway fails to bounce me back out of the Madison residence. If I wasn't sure which Amy I was talking to back at the shop, the nameplate on the mailbox cleared that up.

Once we find and page through the book she mentioned, she seems far too eager to try out the spell that sounds most promising. When asked about it she just grins and asks me, "do you have any idea how hard it is to find a willing magical guinea pig?" and then laughs.

I glare at that. But what the hell, this is literally what I spent all afternoon looking for, and my only other option I can think of is trying to con Willow into casting it. Not that conning season 2-3 Willow would be hard, but I'd really rather not put myself on the radar of Team Scooby.

We go over the ritual instructions and the notes scrawled in the margins in English. Hmmm, looks like committing Grand Theft Body was not Catherine's plan A for reliving her glory days. That she then went that route... Not sure how much to read into that. I re-read one of the lines again to make sure, "oh for fucks sake, seriously?"

"What?"

"Read the ingredients list on the concoction I have to drink. I think the universe is mocking me," I grumble, while contemplating going back and eating the sales guy.

"... Ginkgo Biloba!" at least one of us is amused. Unfortunately it's Amy. I glare at her.

---One Spell Cast Later---

Magic, as it turns out, is finicky. I expected that. It's also fucking vindictive. Which I did not expect but I really should have.

I sit in a salt circle while Amy chants words in what sounds like Latin.

I drink a bizarre concoction of things including a bit of my blood and a fair bit of that herb which shall no longer be spoken of.

I continue to sit, Amy continues to chant. I focus on what I can remember of the show, and the parts I most want to remember. Lindsey's tattoos, the Gem of Amarra, and that Glove of M-guy with the lightning bolts. Also, anything with Amy herself in it just for good measure.

The spell works, I think, but not exactly as advertised.

Amy said that the spell her mom cast to help her with studying made her head tingle and then suddenly she could remember what the teacher had gone over in class better.

I don't know if reaching back over a decade was simply an order of magnitude greater than this year's syllabus, or if the spell was meant for humans and I only partially qualify. Hell, for all I know the Powers That Live to Screw With Mortals just thought it'd be fucking hilarious. Whatever the cause, the result was that my world dissolved into pain, pain, and more pain. My mind felt like it was on fire as the images and scenes I sought out seared themselves into my brain. I get the distinct impression that forgetting the details is no longer an option.

It may have been a few seconds later, or an hour. I'd never know. But when I came to, Amy was pressed back against the wall staring at me with wide eyes, and the room reeked of her fear.

"Iguh-" <cough> "It worked." my throat hurts and my voice sounds strange, I assume from screaming obscenities at the universe, or possibly just screaming incoherently in pain. I try to smile reassuringly at her.

She doesn't look reassured. "Please don't eat me," she squeaks out.

"...Why would I... I'm in game face aren't I?" she nods. Mother Fucker! I focus on pulling in my fangs, "I'm not going to eat you."

"But you're a vampire." She stutters a little on that last word. I see we've reached the stating the obvious phase of this discussion.

"...and you're a witch. So what? Glass Houses, Amy." Awesome, now she looks annoyed too. I can't decide is that's an improvement.

"Vampires eat people... I'm People!" That last bit going back into panicked tones.

"I never said I don't eat people. I said I'm not going to eat you." At her confused expression I elaborate, using my best Amy Madison impression, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a willing witch to cast spells for me?" And she's annoyed again, abracadabra. I tilt my head to the side, "If it helps, I can also refrain from eating your dad?"

"And what happens when I'm done casting magic for you?" She sounds suspicious and now I'm the one that's confused.

"I pay you for your time?" Her expression goes back to confused, which just confuses me more. What part of this doesn't she understand? "Witches do need money for food and stuff right?"

"Wait, you want to pay me to cast magic for you, and you don't want to eat me?" She sounds surprised. Why is this such a difficult concept?

"...Yes? Is there some better way of keeping a witch on retainer that I'm not aware of? I have been speaking English for the past couple of minutes, right?" I pull out the hundred odd bucks I'd looted over course of last night. "You do magic, I pay you. I refrain from eating you, you refrain from lighting me on fire. Deal?" Clearly she expected me to only need one spell cast and then a snack or something. Are vampires really supposed to be that shortsighted? Don't answer that.

"You're going to eat other people?"

"Well duh, I gotta eat. Why? You wanna watch?"

"Yuck! No! Gross! I want you to not eat people!" I'm beginning to wonder if her mother's magic had... side effects on this girl. She seems to lack the expected level of enthusiasm for that last statement.

I wonder if this is how William felt whenever he was babysitting Dawn. I raise an eyebrow and stare at Amy. "Feeling better now that you've pretended to care about your fellow mortals?"

I wait.

"...Yeah," she does that incredibly put upon sign that only teenage girls can ever manage to get just right. "Screw it. We have a deal. Give me the money. No eating me or my dad. Call me when you want another spell cast." Ha! There's the beginning of the psychotic dark magic addict I remember. I make a mental note to send a thank you to Rack for deleting that pesky caring nature out of my new toy.

...

Make that a thank you note written out and mailed by... someone else, someone who has no connection to me, and is packed full of high explosives and silver ball bearings. What? Even as a human I hated sharing my toys. Besides, I need Amy to be insensitive to the plight of her fellow mortal, not outright self destructive. Friendly fire is most decidedly not friendly.

"Cool." I sum up all my feelings up on the topic and hand her the money. "Now, up you get. Let's have a look at you. What? You just cast a memory affecting spell on me. If you look different than I remember you looking at the store we have a problem." She stands up and fidgets while I give her a blatant once over. She looks almost exactly like she should. The key word there is almost. Her actress was clearly older than her role. The Amy in front of me is actually... 17? But she looks exactly like I'd expect a 17 year old version of her actress to look... and also the same as when we met at the store. I was lying about my reasons, but only by omission. It was a good idea to double check. "Awesome, we're good." I leave it at that, she's cute, but not so much that I want to risk waking up on fire.

Amy seems to want me out of her house for some reason. I roll my eyes as she does everything but shoo me out the door, only to grab my arm before I can actually leave. "Jack, about our deal? If you run into my mom, eat first, questions later. Okay?" I laugh at her phrasing.

"Obviously." She looks at me funny but doesn't ask, so I just smile and don't elaborate before sauntering off. The night is young, and I have important memories to test. I love magic.

 

[Aetheron]

---Angel's Abandoned Mansion---

Results inconclusive. Rawrgle! Again?

Regrettably, my attempts to strangle the magic eight ball are thwarted by its merely being a metaphor for the results my night of testing has produced.

Places, like the high school library look exactly as they did in the show, albeit with the added perspective of being able to look around and see the other side of them. People, on the other hand are all slightly off. Sure, they look like the actors and actresses would have looked when they were the ages they portrayed. That's... interesting academically I suppose, but most decidedly unhelpful when trying to recognize people. Seventeen year olds don't quite look like Hollywood would have us believe. I wouldn't care except that I'm, you know, trying to replicate a magical tattoo that goes on a damned person... pun not intended.

Tuning back into reality I glare at the Polaroid in my hand once more before setting it aflame and tossing into the bowl. I check the runes I drew on the manikin for a fourth time while it burns. As before, they look exactly like I remember the ones on Lindsey. Obviously, it could be that Lindsey's tattoos fall into the second category, 'Things that aren't exactly like the show' but that's not a terribly productive thought. Hmmm... do the runes not protect against Polaroid style cameras? That wouldn't actually surprise me all that much, magic loves to nitpick... Again, that doesn't really help me right now.

I turn to Jennifer, "I'm guessing your room mate didn't pay extra for a magic immune manikin?" Jennifer doesn't respond. Oh, hey! She's stopped drooling. I should write that down. Where'd my lab book go?

It isn't until I'm noting the time on the latest entry that I realize another possible reason why the runes might not have worked. Maybe the tattoo only works on people? I mean... how does a manikin power a magic tattoo? It doesn't. I suppose that should have been obvious. Or... wait... maybe it can draw in ambient magic..? I set the manikin aside for retesting later. If nothing else it'll make a good prop for the tattoo artist.

Gods, this would be so much easier if I could just have Amy research magic tattoos and runes. But when everybody starts boarding the hand-basket, I'd really rather not have there be any more of a paper trail explaining what I did. Paranoia really is self enforcing isn't it? Then again, if this world didn't merit paranoia I wouldn't exist and father would be... I don't know. Drunk off his ass in Willows room trying to convince her to send him home?

I'm still grumbling about self inflicted handicaps as I start unchaining Jennifer from the wall.

---Later---

"Why!" whack, "won't," whack, "you," whack, "fucking," whack, "fledges," whack- snap! "Stay out!?" I drive the now broken handle of my shovel through the heart of the latest idiot to wander into my territory. His now nearly pancake flat face dissolving into dust. Adding his dust to the urn where I'm storing his predecessors I turn back to Jennifer, "You know Jennifer, if they didn't keep delivering cash-" wait. I walk back over to the kitchen table and peer closely at Jennifer's face. "Jennifer?" There's a brief flicker of recognition on her features at the sound of her name. Checking the time I add it to the experiment logs. The human mind is absolutely fascinating, she's gone from uncontrolled drooling to recognizing the sound of her own name again in only... 3 hours. Something I'd never know if I hadn't accidentally snapped her sanity attempting my first Thralling. Ah, the joys of Arts majors with roommates who come home unexpectedly. Huh, does that make her delivery or DiGiorno?

Fifteen minutes later Jennifer starts to giggle. I pause drawing the weird squiggly shape things on her chest and stare at her. She stops. I have a bad feeling about this even as I make note of it in my log book.

Yup, she's ticklish. It is exceedingly difficult to draw runes on a girl who's started squirming under you while you draw. Grimacing, I shift my weight on to her arms to keep them from flailing and carry on.

---Later---

My poor attempt at the Pylean Dance of Joy is interrupted by Jennifer's whimpering. I look over at her just in time to see the runes I drew glow brighter and brighter before bursting into flame and quickly vanishing. "Well! That was a short lived victory." I toss the photo, in which Jennifer is conspicuously absent aside and call Amy. I'm clearly out of my depth here.

"...Hello?" she sounds tired. Well, it is 7 am on a Sunday. I'd probably be tired too if my successful test run didn't make me far too giddy for even giant ball of obnoxiousness to bring me down. And, you know, that whole I haven't been able to sleep-- or really needed to either-- since the day I was born thing.

"Good morning, Amy! Is magic like electricity?"

"... Jack? ... Why?... It's like, 7am! ...What?" Grogginess, thy embodiment is Amy. I add removing the 'needs sleep' descriptor from my minions to the ever growing pile that is my to do list.

"Yes. Because reasons. You're not a morning person are you? And, finally, I repeat: Is magic like electricity? Or rather, is magic like heat actually? As in does it work better with some materials than others. Like they make heat sinks out of copper and insulate houses with... that pink shit."

"Uhhh..." she pauses just long enough that I begin to wonder if she fell asleep. "...Yeah?" She doesn't elaborate.

"And what works be-" I'm interrupted by a loud thud behind me.

"What was that?" Amy asks as I turn around to find Jennifer now on the floor next to the table. I watch as she tries to stand up before falling over again.

"That's just Jennifer," I wave my arm dismissively.

"Jennifer? Who's Jennifer?" I'm reminded that Amy can't see me, or my arm. "Is she okay?"

"Just some college chick I met last night. Her room-mate was an Arts major. And... uh... she looks okay? A little singed maybe? But I'm pretty sure that's not from the fall. Not important. Focus, Amy. Magic materials. Go."

I politely pretend I can't hear her muttering about impatient vampires, she's not wrong after all, just off topic. "Uhhh... Iron bad, silver good? Copper and Gold work too, but silver holds it better. I'm not sure why."

"Find out for me will you? And would I be correct in the assumption that pen ink is in the 'bad' category along with iron?"

"Pen ink?"

"Yeah, from one of those artsy type pens"

"...Jack, did you kidnap an art student for her art supplies?"

"No, of course not. That would be ridiculous. I ate an art student for her art supplies. I kidnapped her roommate, who is, I can assure you, a totally different person." I think can hear Amy flail her arms in exasperation. I'm not sure why she asked if she didn't want to know.

"...I shouldn't have asked." Oh good, clearly we're in agreement. "Ummm... pen ink? No, I don't think that would work very well at all. Maybe it would last a few minutes, unless... I think they make special inks and papers for that kind of thing? Yeah yeah, I'll look into it. Can I go back to sleep now?"

I roll my eyes at the laziness of my witch. Honestly? Sleeping when there's magical science to be done... It must be a side effect of growing up with it or something; ruins the magic of it all. "You can do whatever you like, but the sooner you get me those answers the sooner you get paid."

Amy yawns into the phone and then groans, "Fine. I'm awake now anyway. But you're covering the cost of coffee."

"Whatever. That's fine." I hang up before giving in and letting out a yawn of my own. Gods damn it! I'm dead, I don't need to breathe, and, as far as I can tell, I don't need to sleep either because I can't really seem to even get tired. Why the fuck is yawning still contagious? Jennifer's yawn mollifies me slightly, mostly by reminding me she exists. I re-chain her to the wall before allowing myself to succumb to the yellow menace's influence.

---Later---

I interrupt my latest failed attempt at sleep upon hearing the sounds of Jennifer attempting to escape. I glance my alarm clock. 16 hours. 16 hours to go from queen of the drool to attempted escape artist. Nifty. I think this concludes the experiment.

My final entry makes note of the fact that being allowed to stew in her fears overnight seems to have given the blood an odd tang. It's not a bad flavor, its just strange and I don't think I like it as much as... regular..? flavored blood.

That settled, I go back to "sleep."

---Later---

My phone rings.

It's Amy.

She's found a book on magical materials.

Apparently I was accidentally very close to the mark; magic seems to follow similar rules to heat sinks, but with bizarre quirks that only magic could make sense of. Un-forged iron resists magic, literally iron that hasn't been heated. Heat it up in a forge and that property goes away for- functionally- ever even after it cools. Cold Iron in D&D makes more sense now. Silver, Copper, Gold, in that order, unless you're doing specific things in which case one of them suddenly works better or worse because...? Reasons. That special magic ink? It's ink with silver in it. I somehow don't think that was what they meant when one of the cop shows I watched mentioned prison tattoos causing heavy metal poisoning.

Amy agrees.

"Awesome. I'll meet you at that coffee place after sunset."

Now I just need to find a tattoo artist that will use ink with silver in it. Maybe LA? If it's not obvious which one would be the best I could hit Caritas and have Lorne point me at the 'right' one. Come to think of it, why am I still in Sunnydale? The mansion is nice, but prone to home invasions, and the town itself is subject to annual apocalypses the prevention of which I'd rather not accidentally interfere in. Maybe I should just relocate?

'Naughty, naughty, Alien. You'll keep my William from burning up in the sunshine won't you?' Mother's face flashes through my mind.

...

Why am I on the ground? Oh right, the earth splitting headache. Fucking hell, Mother, did you have to make your handiwork hurt so much? I roll over and climb to my feet. Clearly I'm not allowed to contemplate leaving Sunnydale.

...

Okay, I'm still standing, and my head doesn't feel any worse. Maybe it was the thinking about not coming back?

...

"Hello, Ground. Thank you for catching me. Sorry about bashing my face into you like that. I'm just going to lie here for a bit okay?" As if I needed a reminder that I'm a rank amateur in the mental arts, I think Mother is showing off. I suppose I should have seen this coming. Of, fucking, course, Mother left extra programming in my head. Why wouldn't she? It's not enough that I have no idea why I'm here, Who or What went out of its way to create my paperwork but listed me as living at a McDonalds that's still under construction, or any of that. No, I needed the added sense of suspense wondering when the next set of instructions will kick in complete with migraine made to order. I suppose I should just be grateful she didn't yoke me to the town lines completely.

I'm still sulking on the ground nursing my headache when my phone rings.

"Hello, Amy."

"Jack, where are you? Sunset was half an hour ago."

"Sorry, Mother was just explaining some ground rules to me. I'll be there in a moment." I almost hung up on her before her panicked screeching processed, "No, not your mother. Mine. Drusilla."

I'm halfway through the laborious process of climbing to my feet when what Mother actually said properly registers. Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, how am I supposed to stop that!? I'm not even certain what 'that' is; William falling in 'love' with Buffy the Vampire Layer? Or using himself as a soul-bomb against The First? Ugh. Nothing. No hints or directions or even painful twinges associated with either. One thing is certain: William is clearly her favorite son. Fucking. Typical.

I grab the money I owe Amy and head out the door, this is shaping up to be a busy night.

 

[Aetheron]

---The Espresso Pump---

I meet Amy at The Espresso Pump.

It's... different. Like the lovechild of a Starbucks and a Texican restaurant and full of people who think being afraid of the darkness is superstitious.

I order a small coffee, black, from the... bluette..? working the register. Hmmm... That's fun to look at. She's cute, doesn't smell completely human though. That's interesting. She does a very good job faking it visually but there's something my nose is filing under 'other' which... Actually, that might just be the hair dye? Maybe? Hmmm... I wonder how hard it would be to use Xander to test her for black widow tendencies? Whoops, I'm staring. Worse, I'm being that guy who stands around in everyone's way after ordering.

I smile, take my coffee, and head over to Amy's table. Fishing out her money, I toss it on the table before sitting down. "Sorry I'm late, but you know how mothers can get."

If asked, I'd claim I'm being polite by ignoring the way she started and the slight whiff of her fear. Really I'm just too busy glaring at the cup of coffee on the table in front of me, trying to psych myself up. I do this periodically. Or rather I suppose my father..? host..? the previous owner of my body..? Father has a nice symmetry with Mother... maybe I'll- I'm stalling.

I take a sip of my coffee.

...Huh.

That's... not nearly as terrible as my memories would have had me believe. Then again, it also doesn't really taste like anything. I distinctly remember running this test a number of times before dumping what I'd been told is a staggering amount of cream and sugar into the cup. The perks of vampirism keep racking up; strength, speed, improved sense of smell, albeit apparently less pre-calibrated than I'd initially expected, and my taste buds are now coffee-proof. I eye the cup speculatively. I wonder if that means it won't affect me at all anymore.

I blink a few times as Amy's hand retracts from where she waved it in my face before looking up at her. "What?"

She rolls her eyes at me, "How's Jen?"

"Who?" I glance over at the bluette. I don't think her name was Jen. When I turn back, Amy is staring at me with a look of disbelief.

"Jennifer? The girl you were with this morning? Any bells?"

"Oh, her. Have you ever made mac and cheese with yogurt instead of milk?" I get a blank stare back. "Well you should, otherwise I can't really describe how she tasted." Even then it's only a conceptual approximation.

Her blank look turns into rolled eyes and retching noises. "You know, you could just tell me I don't want to know."

Now it's my turn to give her a blank stare, "But then how will you learn not to ask in the first place?" I grin, looking pointedly around the coffeehouse reminding her we're in public. "For now, I'm happy to let you live vicariously via my... sex life." I stall out at that, blinking. "Although now that I think about it, that euphemism just put an even more terrible context on the whole tasting like yogurt thing."

And now we're both disturbed.

I shake my head to clear it. "Come on. It's dark; I'll drive you home." She pauses in her, what may no longer be entirely faked, retching and nods. I didn't actually expect her to agree so easily. I'm going to have to work on her self-preservation instincts. That or find a way to mark her as mine in a way that other demons will respect. I snort, the only thing demons will universally respect is straight up butchering anything that looks at her funny, and even then I'd probably have to pee on her.

...

"Jack? You're spacing on me again." Apparently we're at the car already.

"I haven't had to pee since I died. Weird." Then again, I think that cup of coffee was my first drink that wasn't blood since I woke up.

"Gross! Why were you staring at me while... no! I do not want to know. Do not tell me!"

"Spoilsport. But hey, you're learning fast. That bodes well for you." I grin at her over the car as I unlock the door.

"..." Amy's mouth clicks shut as she settles for glaring at me while looking mildly disgusted. I've noticed that a lot of talking to Amy involves amusing facial expressions. Amusing for me anyway, she looks annoyed most of the time. I pause to mentally reaffirm my stance that I don't want to wake up on fire, and settle for rolling my eyes at her as I get in the car.

Her glare lasts most of the ride home. She finally cracks as I pull onto her street, breaking the silence, "So, any big plans for tonight?" Apparently she really is learning because she hastily tacks on, "plans that don't involve dead bodies?"

"Considering I am a dead body? No. But I don't foresee any murders on my way to L.A. tonight."

"You're leaving town?" I'm not sure if she sounds happy or sad about that. I'm not sure she knows either.

"Yeah. I'm going to go visit Caritas. It's a demon karaoke--" I hear badly stifled laughter next to me. "Hush you. --karaoke bar. More importantly it's got a set of fantastic magical protection wards I want to take a look at, maybe pick the owner's brain about." And while I'm at that, the ever mounting list of specialists I need to arrange contact with; Tattoo artist, Emil, possibly Barney, and a buyer for the Du Lac Cross and book that Mother had stuffed in her mattress. I'm still not sure if I actually want to part with that last pair. I know I'd rather not give them back to Giles merry band of racist peeping toms, but I'm not sure I want to go through the hassle of translating it myself. "And, speaking of defensive wards, congratulations on giving me a great segue into your new research project. Look into protection spells, would you? Unless you want to come to L.A. for a few days with me that is. If not, out you get." I pull the car up in front of her house.

She snorts, holding her hand to her face like a pretend phone, "Hi, Dad. I'm in Los Angeles, staying in a hotel room with this guy I met a few days ago. Yeah, that'd go over well." She climbs out of the car. "And that's ignoring that whole you eat people and I'm people thing you've got going on, but thanks anyway."

I stick my tongue out at her eye roll before she closes the door. I also wait long enough to make sure nothing tries to eat my witch on her way to her door before driving off. Hmmm, maybe I should find a way to pee on her? I'll have think about it.

---Somewhere on Route 101---

"...Seriously?" I stare at the flashing blue lights in the rear view mirror. It's after midnight. I haven't seen another car in like 10 minutes, but, apparently going ninety something is still frowned upon.

I pull over, roll down the window, put my hands on the wheel and wait impatiently for Officer Buzzkill to approach.

"License and Registration please." He sounds annoyed too. Good, irritation loves company as much as misery. I can see one hand is on his service pistol holster as he shines the flashlight in my eyes. I make an exaggerated show of slowly getting out my license and registration paperwork and hold them out to him. His last conscious action is to try and take them from me. I'm slightly impressed that he manages to reflexively click the cover off of his holster between the moment when I grab his arm and when his head smashes into the top of my car as I pull with all my vampiric might. Thoroughly dazed, he doesn't resist as I pull him into the car through the window.

Coming down off the frenzied high of feeding a few moments later, I'm left slightly puzzled. "Well... that just happened." I shove Noname McRedshirt back out the window and look around. The little dip in the road I pulled over in blocks my view of much of the road, but I can't see any other cars on what I do see.

Grabbing my gloves from the for once in my existence aptly named glove compartment, I drag the officer off the road. Finally, it clicks what's been bugging me about all of this. I've been acting like a junky jonesing for a fix.

I sigh, "I couldn't have just told him I wasn't the droids he was looking for? Damn it." Thinking back, I've been feeling irritable since shortly after leaving the Sunnydale town limits. Either caffeine is a massive no-no for vampires, or there's more to the Hellmouth's energies attracting us demon types than I was aware of. Fortunately I seem to have snapped out of it after my impromptu lunch.

And so I finally start the checklist I really ought to have run through before killing one of the local Staties. No one else in sight on the road. No partner in the patrol car. Stripping off his uniform... California Highway Patrol? So, a Patrolman rather than a Trooper? ...huh, there's no body cam? "Oh right, they're stuck in the dark ages same as me..." I mutter as I confirm there's no dash cam in the patrol car either. His radio chirps, asking for unit 17 to report. "Buggerfuck... Of course he called it in." Outside of Sunnydale, I guess LEOs are allowed to keep their brainstems. Pity about that. My license plates are probably a liability now.

My debate on which of the two cars to drive off in is resolved in favor of option 3 when I spot headlights cresting the ridge. I dart out into the road waving my arms like a madman. The instant the truck screeches to a halt I'm tapping on the window, panicked expression plastered on my face pointing frantically at the cruiser. "I think he had a heart attack. I don't know CPR." Oh bless, Mr. Samaritan is getting out of his truck. His door swings open and I grab his chin forcing his eyes to meet mine. Repeating what I did to that artsy girl by accident, I stare into his eyes and... I don't know how to describe it, it's a bizarre feeling that I don't think my brain was ever really meant to process, but I 'push' my will into his while thinking "STOP!" with everything I have. He doesn't go full blown drool on self levels of catatonic, but his eyes glaze and he goes limp. I think my test subjects are applying my command to everything they consciously can? Makes as much sense as the next theory.

I can hear the operator lady routing reinforcements to check on unit 17 as I shove the guy to the side. Damn.

Suddenly pressed for time, I skip the traditional game of 'what has he got in his pocketses?' enjoyed by murderhobos everywhere and just finish stripping off the patrolman's entire uniform boots and all. It, as well as his service pistol and radio are promptly pitched into the truck... as are the road flares and the shotgun in the car that they really should have locked up with a stronger lock. I'm only what, 3 to 5 times as strong as a normal mortal?

My favorite item drop has to be the taser though. I cackle as my mind is filled with images of the stupid home invading fledges convulsing on the ground.

...

I add electrical immunity or resistance to my list of things I need Amy to learn how to cast for me.

Shaking my head and getting back to work, I'm almost done shoving my loot into the truck's crew cab when I finally notice just what's in the cargo bed. "They have farms in California? Oh right, strawberries and wine." I'm staring at a truck full of fertilizer. I look at the road flares in my hand, and then back at the car that I've been in long enough that I'd bet I left something forensic behind. "Perfect."

Fertilizer, even the chemical kind, doesn't actually explode like in the movies. It does however burn real nice once the water that it's usually stored with evaporates, and it'll give the forensics teams an extra pile of nonsense to sort through. I load the patrolman into my old car, upending a bag of fertilizer into the front and back seats each. I pause briefly to burn the everloving shit out of where I bit him on the neck with the first road flare before tossing it in his lap to ignite the car's seat. The other flares rapidly follow.

There's a lot of smoke and then eventually, just as I crest the hill in my new truck, visible flames coming out of the car window. I wonder idly what the investigators will make of a half naked patrolman missing all of his blood and sitting in the driver's seat of the car he pulled over while it burns to cinders. I don't want to know nearly enough to stick around though. "Welcome to the Darkside, Farmer Bob." I pat his shoulder encouragingly and he blinks at me a few times. "Later tonight you can be the cookies we were supposed to have." The sign for LA seems to think that later will be in about fifty miles. When the shoulder radio starts screaming officer down and calling for backup 15 minutes later I have Bob pitch it out the window.

 

[Aetheron]

---Caritas---

I pause at the top of the stairs leading down to Caritas entryway, running my reasons for being here through my head one last time.

Away from the Hellmouth's presumed influence, my thoughts on the topic are less enthusiastic, but no less conclusive. I've been in this crapsack reality that claims I'm living in a McDonalds, and yes that still bothers me, for 3 days. 3 days during which I've been vulnerable to seers and psychics and who knows what manner of voodoo. I plaster a smile on my face and head down the stairs. As long as I avoid singing anything I should be fine. I'm not positive just where Lorne's flashes of insight come from and I don't really want to draw the attention of any meddlesome powers. I definitely don't want Jasmine poking her nose in my business.

The place is busy at 3 AM, which isn't all that surprising given that a third of the crowd are allergic to sunshine. Or rather, at least a third, most of the other two thirds are things I can't identify so who knows how they feel about anything. Making my way over to the bar, I claim a stool and order a pint of blood from Ramone. I frown at the glass of red liquid he slides over to me, not because it isn't blood, or smells wrong or anything like that. I'm just not sure I like the implications of the part where I watched him pour the glass before I got to my seat to order it. I'd ask what gave me away but he's already headed on down to the next patron... who has a fantastic pair of legs and, oh, she's also Lilah Morgan and, I'm... not suicidal, so... nope, no thank you.

I stare at my drink and studiously resume my contemplations of how worried I should be that the bartender either knew I was a vampire from the across the room, or was able to foresee my choice of drink order. Neither bodes well for me. I haven't made a proper dent in either my thoughts or my drink when Lorne slides into the seat next to me with an amused expression on his face. "And what brings you in tonight stranger?" I note in the mirror that Lilah has finished ordering and is returning to her table full of people in suits... and I'm a duh, of course the bartender could tell I was a vampire, my lack of reflection is something of a giveaway. My mystery is solved, and Lilah can't eavesdrop from where she's busy... celebrating Lindsey's promotion to junior associate maybe? Whatever. All is well with the world again.

Worry abating, I turn to Lorne with a grin, "The local yellow pages actually. Well, sort of... I'm new in town, and I'm looking to get a tattoo, but AT&T doesn't seem to have any way of telling me which of the umpteen hundred tattoo artists around here won't lose their shit when I show up sans pulse." I gesture towards the mirror where Lorne's reflection is talking to empty air. This was all true. The phone book in the Hotel I commanded Farmer Bob to check us into really did have multiple pages worth of tattoo artists listed for the greater L.A. area.

Lorne promptly reminds me why precognition annoys me by waving over a female... Brachen demon? Either way she's spiky and... covered, in tattoos, "Emilia darling, that mystery client I told you to wait here for has arrived." What? Seriously? Gods damn it! I didn't even so much as hum a tune. Lorne wanders off looking pleased with himself. He didn't even give me a chance to ask about the sanctuary spell the Furies cast on the place.

Emilia steals the seat Lorne vacated. "Hi, I'm Emilia. Tattoo Artist." She smiles faintly and holds out her hand.

Ah well, show time. "Jack... Security Consultant." I'm not really sure why I said it, if forced to choose I blame my recent thoughts on the flaws in the sanctuary spell regarding humans or externals. Her smile widens into a full blown grin and her eyes light up, I begin to feel more than a little set up. As Emilia starts telling me about her ex-boyfriend that won't accept the ex- part of that story, I mentally plan out Lorne's murder. I've only existed for 3 days, and I'm already about to suffer Side Quest Damage. Gods. Damn. It.

Then Emilia pulls in her spikes and all of Lorne's sins are immediately forgiven.

---Emilia's Apartment/Studio---

Two weeks later, I'm reclining in what looks and feels to me like a simplified dentist chair while Emilia puts the finishing touches on her work.

I'm pulled out of my daydream when I notice Emilia's needle has been paused for a while. She's peering down at my face, "Jack, what did you say to Sean anyway?"

I cock my head to the side as I stare up at the girl, "Say to Sean?" what to the who?

"Yeah, to get him to leave me alone." Oh, Sean must have been the ex-boyfriend.

I think back a week, I'm not sure I actually said much of anything to him. I remember deciding to chalk the whole thing up as a lesson in dealing with precogs. A decision that followed immediately after noticing that the girl now straddling my lap very strongly resembled the chick that played Sif in the Marvel movies, but with lots of tattoos. Dear Libido, why art thou suicidal? Seriously, first Lilah Morgan and now a Valkyrie.

In spite of my initial reservations, I actually did learn a lot.

I learned that if you go to Caritas to find a tattoo artist, and find one waiting there, one who's got experience with the kind of tattoo work you want done, and who is there specifically waiting for you, that there will be a catch. In this case the catch was that she didn't want money, at least not any more than the costs of the special inks. What she wanted was for me to make her ex-boyfriend, Sean, apparently, stop stalking her. Side Quest Damage, just like I predicted.

I confirmed that stalkers are as predictably easy to find and catch as one might expect. You simply wait for them to show up near their target.

I learned that my new tazer works on full blood Brachen demons, and that when tazed, said Brachen Demons convulse quite hilariously. Once tazed however, they are still quite a bit heavier than they appear. I also determined that I had misplaced some key part of the tazer's charger which was sad, but hopefully it's lost in the truck and not along a roadside in L.A.

I discovered that Brachen Demon blood tastes better than the pigs blood Liam kept in the fridge. Which is to say that it merely tastes terrible. Blech!

I found that while Brachens are beyond my ability to Thrall, and are apparently fairly fire resistant and handle blunt trauma exceptionally well they seem to have no particular resistance to edged or piercing weapons. I also found that those spikes on Brachen Demons are bone, and attach seamlessly to their skulls. As is often the case when magic is involved, this made no biological sense when considering that half-Brachens spikes are retractable. Ah well, they do snap off if you manage to apply enough force, I checked, so there's that.

At that point the test subject died, and I called off further testing for fear of polluting the data pool. I'm not sure if dead demons maintain their demonic traits yet after all.

...

Oh, and I also verified the fairly obvious fact that curiosity is not a survival trait in hotel managers, even if the other guests report strange noises. This is particularly true for any hotel managers that happen to look so fucking delicious. It was a fantastic night.

None of this however, involved talking to the err... Sean? So, I'm fairly sure it's not what Emilia is asking about. "You know, I don't recall needing to say much to him at all actually," I pause for a moment as inspiration strikes, "though I think I conveyed a fair bit via facial expression." I slide into gameface, "and he seemed to understand that he can't bother you ever again." I stretch languidly, careful not to dislodge my rider. Looking down my chest now seems to match the manikin I'd brought in with me, "all done?"

"Almost," she smirks down at me and starts rocking her hips, her arousal flooding my senses. Jesus Christ on a cracker woman, you want to go again!? This will make the fifth time so far today. I start bucking up into her. What? It's not like I'm going anywhere before the sun fucks off… or did you miss the part where I said she looks like Sif?

I should probably add the fact that female half-Brachens are really flexible to my notes... later.

 

[Aetheron]

---Emilia's Apartment/Studio---

It turns out I hadn't needed to ask Emilia if she was all finished. I felt it the moment the… magical circuit, or whatever you want to call it, completed. I can feel it now, slowly siphoning power from me to maintain its effect. It feels… weird, like the sensation of sucking in air, but reversed and not associated with any particular body part I have nerves attached to. My respect for Lindsey's magical skills and power ratchet up a notch simply for being able to handle this as a mortal. I can feel myself… digesting? burning? …using blood faster now to compensate for the power draw. I think I may have just doubled my caloric needs, possibly more.

I'm hungry. My new tattoo itches and tingles and feels slightly warm to the touch.

I stagger out of Emilia's combination parlor, studio, condo... place the instant the shadows are long enough to make it practical. Even knowing that she would taste vile I was starting to find it difficult to resist.

A homeless man is leaning against a building as I go by. I offer to buy him dinner.

I toss the blood-drained body in the alley dumpster and, with the hunger subsiding, make my way over to Caritas. A lot of work has gone into setting up this meeting, it won't do to be late.

I've been by a few times in the past weeks converting cash into extra blood I could store in Emilia's fridge for after our morning long ritual of her carving up my skin with a needle. I've learned to sense to that slight prickling sensation in the back of mind when I cross the threshold of the sanctuary spell. Or at least, I assume that's what it is since it happens every damned time I clear the second to last step before going in the door. Maybe learned to associate the two would be more accurate.

I mention all this so that I can properly convey how incredibly not surprised I was when I took that very step, and my new tattoos got warmer, suddenly pulling in more power as they fought to… actually I have no idea why they're so angry. The surprising part was just how much power they were suddenly gulping down. I don't recall Caritas being under surveillance, mystical or otherwise, let alone something that feels so overpowering. I take a step back, confirming they cool off when outside the spell's zone of effect. They heat up once more as I slowly walk into Caritas.

Screw it, they're running just barely hot enough to even qualify me for having a fever. I'll just... drink some ice water with my blood, yeah. It's probably time to actually have that conversation with Lorne about just how the sanctuary spell works. I sit down at the bar where Ramone has already placed my glass of blood.

...

Wait. Okay, so the tattoos are objecting strenuously to the sanctuary spell. That... means something right? They block scrying, precognitive seers, ... and modern surveillance equipment. Kind of an eclectic mix, but I'm a vampire in a TV show, so who am I to throw stones. They all turned on at once, so it's not a piece by piece set of blocking effects, it's some sort of systematic preventative effect? I think I hate magic for its fuzzy symbolic logic. I push my empty glass away and it's refilled a scant moment later. Clearly, I'm protected against more than just remote viewing and extrasensory perception. Lindsey wasn't caught or killed, so I'd imagine they couldn't use tracking spells, or summoning spells on him either. Or directly curse him dead for that matter.

Modern surveillance gear is the odd duck of the bunch, but if I ignore that for the moment or lump it under extrasensory perception with the other hyper-cognitive bullshit... Ah, Fuck it, I'm probably over thinking it, and clearly far too annoyed to think it through properly, the blood is helping though. The simplest means of accomplishing the effect would be to block the ability of magic to target my person. Okay, that makes sense, I already knew the sanctuary spell made judgment calls about the beings it was affecting since humans aren't stopped from doing violence, and I really ought to try to remember to mention that to Lorne. I can for the Sanctuary spell's details from him in exchange. I guess my tattoos are preventing, or at least interfering with, the spell from determining the particulars of my personhood? Thinking back to the table I saw smashed when a card game stopped being friendly, I hope that the spell's logic doesn't default case me as an object. Probably safest to assume it does though. Sometimes I really hate magic's fuzzy fucking logic.

My internal debate is derailed when I notice Lorne staring at me with a puzzled expression. I groan, do I want to know what these things are doing to my aura badly enough to risk Lorne doing basic math? It seems the answer is yes because I smile and wave him over. "Something wrong Lorne?" I keep my expression cautiously curious. I suppose this is the true test. Can I lie to an empath?

Lorne glares at me. I guess I can't quite fool Lorne? "Even without an aura you're radiating smugness. What did you do?" I blink at that. I have no aura? I guess that's better than Lorne being able to read me like a book, but still, kinda unexpected.

"That's strange." I don't have to fake my confusion. Actually, no, I take that back, that makes perfect sense, I'm suppressing whatever makes me register as a person, like say the auras all people have. I quickly cover my epiphany with another, "I'd have expected it to be bizarrely chaotic, but not missing," And on that topic, take that Scoobies, I'm people! Not that I can prove it anymore... "I... uh... had a chaos mage scramble it for me." I try to sound sheepish, but I may not have succeeded given that I was slightly distracted. Suck it eavesdroppers. Yes, you, I see you over there, listening in.

"Why would you do that? That's ... insane." Lorne looks properly horrified, and I guess I can see how Lorne would think that. If auras work the way I'd expect from Tara bits of dialogue, the chaos I just described is how I bet a completely bat-shit crazy person would look. Granted, now I wonder what Tara will think if she sees me.

I shake my finger at Lorne with a not-so-mock glare, "It's your fault actually. You set me up with Emilia."

Lorne's expression barely even flickers to nervousness, I suspect he's grown used to the sanctuary spell's protections already. "Hey now, I did no such thing. All I did was point you out to Emilia, and I thought you two would get along great! I didn't mean any harm." Oh, he thinks I'm angry about something Emilia did? Hardly. Emilia is fucking fantastic... or fantastic at fucking... and everything in between.

I laugh at my thoughts, "that's what I mean! Emilia and I get along beautifully. If we hadn't been thrown together by an empathic precog I'd be incredibly suspicious of that. But that's the point! You pulled all that out of my future by listening to her sing. Do you have any idea how mind numbingly terrifying that is? Of course I immediately sought out and found a way to scramble my future's predictability." I may be over acting, but between the dude in the suit eavesdropping, and the way my tattoos itch, I have plenty of annoyed to push into my speech. Suit man is definitely dinner tonight, just on principle, fuck you very much Wolfram & Hart. I sigh, "The aura thing was unexpected, but I'll take it. Not every reader out there is as fucking Californian as you. I mean, fucks sake Lorne, you make surfer bros look positively uptight." Misinformation rant complete, I chug glass number... 4..? 5..? of blood and take a breath. "Anyway, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here tonight. If the chaos mage was right, and any good at his job, you won't be able to point him out to me just from looking at me."

Lorne looks thoughtful, but Ramone drops off another round and grins at me, "He may not know who you're here to meet, but I do." Slightly singsong voice and everything. The fucking help is mocking me.

"Gods Damn It, Ramone. What did you do?" Fucking great, Ramone has some way of predicting me that got past my tattoos.

Ramone shrugs at me and points at suit guy, shit-eating grin still plastered on his face, "I answered his question when he asked me if you were the Mr. Winters he was here to meet." Oh. Okay then. I can't really justify eating Ramone over that. Not when he's the man that keeps my glass of blood full.

But still, I stare at Ramone retreating back, "wiseass," ... whoops, I never did order that ice water. I sigh, apparently the guy in the suit is Emil's minion not Wolfram & Hart's, I guess I won't eat him seeing as it took me 2 weeks and abusing Caritas' reputation as neutral ground just to get a meeting with that man's minion. I roll my eyes and wave the man over to a no longer empty table. Who'd have thunk that it'd be difficult for a vampire showing up out of nowhere to get a meeting with a supernaturally aware black market arms dealer. Actually, come to think of it, I'm not sure it was the vampire part they objected to, but rather that they thought I was a cop. I shudder to think how many hoops I'd have had to jump through if I wanted anything that was actually illegal. Now, let's find out how much a collapsible arm sword thing costs.

---Los Angeles Magic Shop---

I grit my teeth as another of Mother's little migraines bounce around my skull. Whatever Mother did to me seems to be aware that I've accomplished what I came here to do, and is trying to drive me back to Sunnydale. I grip the bookcase to keep my hand from twitching along with the rest of me. Forcing the blade to fold back into its arm mounted holder is a pain. And that's not even touching on how difficult it would be to explain to the owner, who is most likely some manner of practitioner, why a fucking sword just assembled itself into my hand. I don't really have a good excuse for that, even assuming he doesn't set me on fire before I can try. Hell, I can't even explain how the thing really works. I may have underestimated Emil, because I strongly suspect that the device I have strapped to my arm is casually violating the laws of physics every time I trigger it. Some manner of minor magic is clearly involved, which makes me wonder if the man could get me a lightsaber if I paid him enough.

Repeating that my plan is to return to Sunnydale soon like a mantra has been getting less and less effective with every passing episode, but eventually I feel confident in my control over my limbs. I take out my phone and call Amy to make sure she doesn't already have a copy of any of the books that seem interesting. No Service. I sigh, and head outside.

...

No Service.

I'm halfway through my checklist of common phone fixes when I realize I might be in trouble. I put the phone down on a newspaper box and take a step back. Full Bars. That low base level warm tingle that my tattoos have been giving off cuts off abruptly.

I step back towards the phone. Full Bars. I pick it up. No Service, tingly tattoos. I put it down. Full Bars, tattoos go quiet. I place my finger on it. Full Bars. Another finger? Full Bars. Two fingers and a thumb? Full Bars. I pinch it between my thumb and forefinger lightly. No Service, tingles.

Gods Damn It. Apparently cell tower triangulation or GPS or some other important phone related service counts as surveillance.

...

Also the magic seems to have a very limited understanding of what constitutes possessing an item, only extending its protections to things literally in my grasp. Magic... why are thou so bugger-fucking ridiculous half the time?

I put the phone on speakerphone and call Amy, carefully never gripping the phone. For now, it can 'belong' to the newspaper box.

"Hello?"

"Hi Amy, Do you already have a cop-"

"Hello?"

"...Amy? Can you hear me?"

"Hello!? Ungh." Amy hangs up on me.

I stare at the now useless, to me anyway, phone. I really should have seen that coming.

I guess it's time to go home after all. Mother's migraine must be so pleased with itself.

 

[Aetheron]

*** POV "Emilia" ***

---

"Bye Emilia."

"Bye Jack," I close the door behind him.

Am I supposed to be upset that he's leaving me so abruptly? I think I'm supposed to be upset. Mortal women are weird like that, it makes pretending to be one rather vexing. Fortunately Jack rarely showed any more interest in going through those sorts of motions than I did, and when he did look like he was starting to notice I simply abused the blood supply issue that all males seem to share, even ones that constantly drink blood. Rational thought loses every time when confronted with a pretty face and a nice rack. ...Men!

With a thought I abandon the silly mortal residence I spent the past few weeks in and return home.

My nosy half brother is there when I arrive. This had better be good. "Hermes, what brings you all the way out here to see little old lesser goddess me?" I'm not bitter about the distinction. No. Never.

Hermes doesn't seem to care, he's practically vibrating in place. "Eris! You'll never guess what's happened! ... what are you wearing? Oh, I don't care. You have to hear this." Of all the... Of course it's gossip that has my brother so excited.

Changing into my toga with another thought, I yawn and roll my eyes. "Oh, pray tell, what has father stuck his cock in this time?" See this face? This is my enthused face, I swear.

"Please, nothing so commonplace as that! Would I come all this way to see you if it was just that?" Okay, he might have a point. He generally doesn't bother with his 'lowly half sister.'

"Oh, you in particular will love this. It seems our cousin Janus got rather drunk at Bacchus's latest party and decided it would be a marvelous idea to kidnap a mortal from one of those worlds. Treaty violations be damned! Only now he can't seem to remember where he left him and no one can seem to locate him."

Well... if he had to get caught, at least he's also drunkenly forgotten that I gave him the idea, and helped him do it. Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit I tricked him? I roll my eyes. "And are we sure he didn't just imagine the whole thing in a drunken stupor?"

"Oh very, the Elder Powers are all in a tizzy. Apparently our mysterious little mortal has been making ripples in their precious plans." Even my brother snorts at that.

"And they can't find him? Have they checked with Uncle Hades and his crowd? Mortals do tend to die after all." It couldn't possibly be that I was hiding him while enchanting his body to hide him for me. After all, if they find him, my game ends.

"Well of course they have, and that's the best part, he did die, and he was there. But! Before he could finish processing he went missing. From the afterlife."

Wait... "What!? Souls don't go missing from the afterlife." Not even souls from those sorts of places. They don't. It doesn't happen. Even better, I didn't do it!

"I know! I haven't had this much to talk about in ages! The death gods are in uproar because a soul is missing. The Powers are all yelling at each other while watching everything slide towards chaos, which I so want you to promise you'll make sure I'm there to watch when you go to gloat about to Concordia."

I nod distractedly at my brother. This is amazing! I have no idea what happened! I love surprises, they are so the very best part of being a Chaos goddess. "Come on Brother, I want to go rub it in her stuck uptight face right away." This will be so much fun!

 

[Aetheron]

---Greater Los Angeles Area---

I lift up the dumpster's lid, shoving Beardsley in before allowing it to fall back down again.

"SIGH!" I declare to the night while making my way back out of the alley and resuming my walk. Maybe selling the truck to buy a folding sword wasn't the best idea..? pffftt... I regret nothing! Except, you know, for the part where I'm walking through the outskirts of Los Angeles with a bag full of the loot I didn't want to part with, or couldn't hock in time, looking for a new set of wheels.

I think... I dislike feeding on the homeless, I should stop doing it. I don't mean that as a slight against the homeless, they taste the same as anyone else. But it's like opening up your happy meal and finding an empty toy bag inside. Sure, the food still tastes fine, but now you're upset and the whole experience is ruined. I can't shake the sense that killing someone and then not taking their stuff is conduct unbecoming of a professional murderhobo, even if it is only because of the other guy failing to have anything to take.

Beardman had been especially upsetting. He didn't struggle, just told me repeatedly "I'm no one" while trying to back through the wall.

I sigh again, "DISA... POINTE-. Oh, hello!" I whistle. She's... perfect. Black. An absolutely fan-fucking-tastic rear end... which it looks like some overweight white guy is trying to force his way into. Not okay, she's mine now, I've decided. Out with you!

I cross the street and pull the guy out of the back of my new pickup truck, spinning him around to face me. 'STOP!'

Huh, well, that's unfortunate. I'm left staring into the eyes of an extremely confused looking... construction worker, maybe? A sensation not unlike trying to drink from a straw and finding out that the cup has already be reduced to just slowly melting ice leaves my expression mirroring his in confusion.

I recover first, reaching up and snapping his neck with a sharp twist. I push him back into the truck, filling what little bit of space isn't taken up by bags of... concrete mix? It's probably vendor trash, but it's better than the nothing the Bearded Wonder had on him. Maybe I'll find a use for it back home some day. Although the only person I can think of that would know how to turn the bags into actual concrete things is a Xander of the future that Mother has declared verboten. Meh, whatever, mine now.

I must have been pumping some manner of power into my Thrall that is now being used to power my tattoo's fight against the wretched evils of cell signal towers. Fishing the keys out of dudeguy's pocket, I close the the gate and admire my new prize. Flatbed long enough to "sleep" in? check. Windowless flatbed cover to keep the sun out of my fucking face? check. I'll have to block the gate window, but shouldn't be too hard. Might need to find a way of ventilating it lest I discover vamps are susceptible to heat stoke the hard way.

I do believe I shall call her... Sheila. Even if she isn't blue, or a tank.

It occurs to me as I pull out onto the road that I have no experience driving anything this size. Fun.

---Abandoned mansion---

I pull up in front of the mansion a little over an hour before dawn.

Silence from inside? That's... strange, I was expecting that, having been gone for two weeks, the place to be full of more obnoxious squatters.

I push open the door cautiously, half expecting to find a shotgun or crossbow rigged to shoot at any entrant. Disappointingly, if there was any such attempted donation to my collection of weaponry it was stolen prior to my return along with the blackout curtains. That actually explains the lack of habitation, the rooms are quite airy without those.

Given that the creepy demon statue has been demolished with what looks like extreme prejudice, I elect to blame the Scoobies for my home's current state of ransack.

Fuck, I really need to get around to learning my way about the tunnels under this city. Looks like I'm waiting out the Sun in Sheila today.

---Madison Residence---

I knock on Amy's door. I'm going to need to find a way around my cellular difficulties. It's just not worth dealing with T-9 style texting.

Her, I assume, father answers the door. "Hi... Mr. Madison? I'm Jack, is Amy home?"

Mr. Madison seems to be giving me a once over, as though trying to decide if he approves of my talking to his daughter. Good man; keep my witch safe.

...

Then he completely spoils the effect by exhibiting all of the poor sense that led to him marrying Catherine and invites me in, indicating Amy is in the study before just... wandering away. The kindest explanation I can come up with is that Catherine did some work on the man's mind to make him just go with the flow around here. I have to shake my head at the foolishness of it all.

I walk into the study, which is really more Catherine's private library, and am appeased slightly by the startled look on Amy's face and the smell of fear. At least someone in this town appreciates how dangerous it is. Granted, it's exactly the wrong person of course, but it does go some way towards explaining how there are any humans left here. Although... She looks... guilty? rather than concerned. That's... concerning.

"Evening, Amy. You look nervous. Is there something wrong?" I don't appear to be helping by leaning in towards her and smiling. She doesn't seem to find my smile reassuring in any way shape or form. I can't imagine why.

"You- You- I'm Sorry!"

...the fuck is she on about now? I raise an eyebrow and wait for her to make sense of herself, smile turned grin fixed firmly in place. It seems to alarm her for some reason.

"How did you get in here?" she seems legitimately confused. Did she have some manner of sixth sense my trip to L.A. has rendered blind to me?

"Uh... the front door?" I glibly gesture back the way I came.

"But I dis-invited you!" She slams her hand over her mouth. Gods, it's like we're in a TV show or something. Still, teaching her not to let important information slip will have to take a back seat to dealing with her new found... Actually I have no idea what she's trying to accomplish here. Is she trying to turn in her two weeks? Mutinying? ...Teenagers...

"And?" I roll my eyes at her, making sure to keep her hands and lips in my field of vision the entire time in case she tries something fiery.

"Vampires need an invitation to enter!" she hisses at me. She's much cuter, but no more informative, when she's riled up than when she's terrified. Both appear to be easy enough states to drive her into though, sadly.

"Yes, which your loving father was happy to provide." Alarm flashes across her face, "No, I didn't do anything to him. We have a deal remember... or are you seriously attempting to make that, 'had a deal,' now?" Dealing with this after being stuck in an oven masquerading as a truck, unable to even fall asleep to make the time pass, is making me tetchy. Knowing it doesn't seem to be helping me suppress it though.

"No! I just- You-" She's crying now. Why is she crying? Crying usually happens during the killing, maiming, and eating stages, not the 'tell me whats going on' stages, of a conversation.

"Okay. Clearly something happened while I was gone. You were fine when I left, and now you're a gibbering wreck... Oh... Oh, gods damn him. I am going to rip Rack's fucking heart out, without killing him first." My vision is actually tinging red in rage-- I didn't know that could actually happen?-- that fucking fuck broke my witch.

I'm about to charge out into the night when Amy manages to resume contributing to the conversation "Wha- Who?" ... I thought I was reasonably clear. "Who- Please don't kill me." Her fear is filling the room.

I pull in my fangs and take deep, purely unnecessary breaths, until the red recedes from my vision. Clearly I'm making Amy even more unhinged than she already was and that won't help us sort anything out. "Use your words, Amy."

She nods, takes in deep breathes of her own, and appears to calm down. Slightly. Maybe? I keep her hands in sight and watch for flames. "Who's Rack? Why are you going to rip his heart out?"

"...You don't know who Rack is?" She shakes her head no vigorously enough that I'm concerned about whiplash.

... I stare at her. She stares at me. None of this makes any sense.

"Okay. You've never met Rack?" more vigorous head shaking. "Then... what... is your malfunction? You were fine two weeks ago and now we're back to the 'please don't kill mes' and you literally twitching in place like a fucking cornered rabbit." Going to pieces under stress is not a useful trait in minions.

"You-" Deep breaths Amy, "You tortured that guy" the fuck? ... does she mean that uh ... Emilia's ex? How did she? "It- It was on the news. I recognized your car."

My car? I had a truck when I was conducting my stress testing, "...what are you talking about?"

"The cop! That you killed with a road flare!" well that clears up nothing, but at least she's done stuttering.

"I didn't torture any cop- ... oh. You mean the patrolman? He was already dead when I found the road flares. Wait, THAT is what set you off? Fucks sake, woman."

"You only said you wouldn't eat us. Not anything about..." she looks uncomfortable.

"So. All of this, " I gesture between us, "was because I didn't know if Vampire bites could be swabbed for DNA." I suddenly appreciate why Giles cleans his glasses so much, it'd be very cathartic right now, I settle for pinching the bridge of my nose. Amy is mouthing DNA silently and looking confused. If that isn't an indictment of the Sunnydale school system I don't know what is. I wish I could claim surprise. "Not important. So, let me make sure I have this straight. You decided that our deal was too specific, found and cast a dis-invite spell, and then panicked when I got in anyway?" At her nod, "And you've never met Rack?" How the... wow, I guess Amy's... Amy-ness is all her mother's doing. That... actually doesn't shock me. Err... speaking of Amy's mom, "And... how has your dad not come crashing in here to see why we're yelling at each other?" I really need to investigate how much Catherine broke him.

"Mom put a soundproofing spell on the room."

"Oh. Well. Uh... " where do we go from here? "How about we make the deal I agree not to eat, or otherwise harm, you, or your dad, and we get back to work?"

"You're not mad?"

"Not really. Confused as fuck as to what you thought you were going to accomplish with a dis-invite spell, but not really mad. I mean, come on, what exactly was your plan there?"

"...what do you mean?"

"You dis-invited me right? which would imply you thought our deal was over, yeah?" An amusing thought all by itself, as if I'd let you slip though my fingers.

"Uh..."

"So... What was your plan? What were you going to do when I set fire to the house? Or drove my truck into it?" Or fucking shot at you with a gun from outside the house you silly... I sigh, "We'll work on it. Finding solutions to those two will be good practice."

"Uh..." Amy gulps loudly and latches onto my subject change. "Practice? For what?"

"Why did you think I went to L.A. to find out about a sanctuary spell? You spend 8 hours at night unconscious, and I can't be out in the day, keeping a roof and walls around us sounds important, yeah? So, we're going to protection ward the everloving shit out of our homes."

"Oh, okay." The idea of doing magic seems to have gotten her to finally start calming down a bit. "So... uh... who's Rack?" Oh, Gods Damn It.

 

[Aetheron]

---Madison Residence---

"...Rack is..." How best to put this? "A warlock. The kind of warlock that makes your mother look positively tame." I pause a moment while Amy starts to look nervous. Wait, no, that's her nervousness face but she doesn't smell nervous...

"...Really?" Oh. Very subtle, Amy. Okay, clearly I need to nip this in the bud. I do not need Amy going to Rack for protection from Catherine. Or from me for that matter. "And you thought he'd done something to me?" That, at least, seems like honest confusion.

Okay, Amy, I can play this game. "Well... yeah. I come back from Los Angeles and find you in your mother's study out of your gourd with fear..? Rack, he's got a reputation for digging around in the darker magics. The kind that can mess up your head." I look pointedly at her. "He's like a drug dealer. The first hit is free, but after that..." I shrug, feigning disinterest. "In retrospect, I was being silly, I think you're probably too old for him by now."

"Too old?" Amy sounds confused, I guess subtlety wont work here.

"Yeah. His interest in, ah, younger, girls is apparently noteworthy even among demons." I shrug again, "I never really saw the appeal in girls that haven't had their period yet, but," another shrug.

"Oh. OH! Gross!" And finally Amy is exuding the correct scents. Fear, disgust, anger. I'll have to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't backslide. Last thing I need is a junkie minion with divided loyalties, the idea was barely tolerable when I thought he'd gotten there first. I never did like sharing.

"Yeah, and that first hit is free business I mentioned? It's not always entirely... voluntary. So it's best to just stay clear of him." My piece complete, I nod in agreement with myself and move on. Oh, and speaking of disasters waiting to happen... "I need you to call Willow." I pull the Rosenberg's phone number out of my pocket.

...

"What? Why can't you call her?"

Well lets see, my cell phone currently cant get signal while in my hand, and refuses to detect my voice when I do manage to complete a call. But no, of course I can call Willow myself. "Uh, hello. Vampire? Severely allergic to trees here."

One of Amy's, 'I'm a teenage girl and I'm exasperated by you old people,' sighs later, she glares at me. "Seriously?" Excellent, we've successfully moved on from Rack.

"Okay, fine. I'm actually allergic to self righteousness too. If I try to talk to her it'll all just end in tears. First there'd be the indignant shouting of 'you're a vampire' and then there's the bit with the grrr-ing and the arrg-ing... and then there's the messy deaths... and oh gods I don't feel like dealing with it." So, be a good minion and make the problem go away.

Amy smirks at that, nodding. Then a thoughtful look ghosts across her face before she fists her hands on her hips and glares at me. "And just what do you need from Willow that you don't think I can do?"

For fucks sake... I guess that rivalry was pre-existing? "Okay. One, no, nothing like that. Nothing magical. B, I want her to hack into the city records and get us a map of Sunnydale, including the sewers, and if possible the various caves and tunnels. Triple I, yes, I'm sure you could cast whatever technomancy is required to pull it off just fine, Amy. But! If Willow gets arrested, that's Mr. Giles' problem. On the other hand, if you get arrested, then I have to drive my ass up to Stockton and eat an entire prison complex worth of guards... and it turns out law enforcement types go straight to my hips! So really, I'd rather just, not have to do that. Okay?" Huh, I know father liked that joke... but can vampires actually get fat?

Amy is giving me that funny look she gets some times when she can't decide if she should be happy or upset with me. I've been getting that a lot tonight. "Okay, fine! I'll call Willow, jeez. What do I tell her I need this for anyway?"

How the fuck should I know, you're the one who grew up with her. I just watched her on TV. "You could tell her we're doing an amateur archaeology project?"

... We both pause for a moment and then sigh, "no..." in unison. "She'd want to join in."

"Oh! Tell her you're looking to avoid running into any more vampires and demons so you want to make a map of where they're likely to show up?" That... isn't actually a terrible idea, we probably should make a map of places Amy shouldn't go alone. I'll probably have to find a way to phrase it that's less patronizing though if I want her to stick to it.

"... Same problem. What do we actually need the maps for anyway?"

"It's tradition!" I grin at her.

"...Tradition?" she doesn't look impressed. That's weird... oh right.

"Yeah, what kind of treasure hunt would it be without a map? I did mention the treasure, right?" I'm very well aware I did no such animal.

"... treasure?" Amy's grin is suddenly no less enthused that my own. "Tell me more." Finally, I've gotten her priorities straightened out.

"Okay, so treasure is valuable stuff that other people left behind..."

"...Jack!"

---Bellevu Residence---

I'm not actually sure what Amy told Willow. I don't actually care either, beyond the fact that it worked.

It took Willow three days to get back to Amy with the files, and then another two for the local print shop-- And oh, gods, those are still things back now? --to print out our huge map of the town.

I have said map taped up on Mrs Bellevu's dining room wall, she did pay for them after all, it only seemed fair that she get to see them.

Speaking of Mrs. Bellevu... is she bringing over another batch of cookies? I really need to watch what I say around Thralls now that I'm not accidentally turning them into sandblasted soup crackers. She's been baking for 7 hours now, and I haven't the foggiest how to get her to stop. I sigh, patting the little old lady on the head, before watching her head back to the kitchen. Yup, she's gotten out the mixing bowl again. I wonder what kind she'll make now? She's got to be running out of supplies. Shoving one of the... snicker-doodles? into my mouth I hand the plate full of cookies over to Amy who seems to be taking the whole Thralling her neighbor thing far better than expected. Maybe its all the free cookies I've been stuffing her with? She says magic makes her hungry, but I don't recall any magic being done recently. I'd tell her it's more likely the period she recently started, but I'm fairly certain I've already mentioned how little interest I have in experiencing fire first hand. I'm sure she already knows I can smell the blood.

Unfortunately, Willow's hacking skills can't do anything to obtain proper maps of the tunnels because they don't really exist. "Okay. So... ummm... Amy, is it just me or is the local geological survey completely fucking useless?" I throw my hands out to the sides indicating the whole map in front of me.

There's a whirring noise and Amy screams. "Jack! What the fuck!? Is that a sword?"

"Huh? Oh. Gods damn it. This thing is a pain in the ass to retract." I start the obnoxious process of forcing a three foot long blade of high grade titanium back into a nine inch long holster.

"GAH! Why do you even have that thing? You almost just stabbed me in the face! My face Jack, I would very much like it to remain unstabbed."

Okay, Amy may have a point there. "Sorry. Forgot I was wearing it." Click, click, and push... aha!

"How do you forget you're wearing a sword?"

"I put it on a week ago, and I've just sort of gotten used to the weight... Being supernaturally strong probably helped." Sword returned to its holster, I return to glaring at the map.

"...How... do you shower with that... urg... Jack when was the last time you showered?"

"Emilia's, she liked morning shower sex." I circle possible site number 12 before allowing myself to reminisce. I'm too annoyed to properly enjoy the memory though. Would it have fucking killed my Brother to mention, at any point, some manner of landmark near wherever he found the damn Gem? But no, I get to work off a montage of roads collapsing.

"Jack! That's gross. You haven't seen Emilia in almost a week. ... The fact that you remember her name is actually kinda weird." Huh, that is weird. Then again...

I turn to look at Amy, she's got one arm on her hip and the other is pointing at me accusingly with a half eaten cookie. "What? It's not like I sweat, or grow skin cells to then have flake off or any of that stuff anymore. What does it matter? I clearly don't smell or you'd have noticed before now."

"That is not the point! Upstairs! Shower! Now!"

"Fucks sake woman, hold on. Let me finish this section of the map first and then I'll meet you up there. Jesus, you're as bad as Emilia when you're..." I trail off as warning klaxons go off in my brain.

"Oh my god, No! I'm not- " She huffs, "Alone, Jack, go upstairs and shower, alone." Right. Waking up on fire bad.

I roll my eyes at my hormonally addled witch, who has apparently forgotten which of us is in charge. Then I glare at the frustratingly incomplete map. If the rest of the city is like the half I already did there's going to be over two dozen possible sites to check, "Fuck it. Fine. I'm going. You can deal with marking the map."

The smell of oatmeal raisin cookies is coming from the kitchen when I pass it on the way to the stairs. Women! They're all insane.

I'm standing in the shower glaring at the water a few minutes later when my tattoos suddenly start to glow and skip over warm in favor of searing heat. Then just as suddenly it's all over a little under a minute later. In that minute I've skipped from happily sated directly to 'fucking starving.'

What the hell was that? "AMY! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO!?"

 

[Aetheron]

---Bellevu Residence---

"So... Amy... to recap, you didn't just try to scry or film me while I was in the shower? Or, in fact, do anything at all magical or espionage-like, at all, in the past... say, fifteen minutes? You have no idea what the naked vampire, standing in the dining room is talking about?" I'm not technically naked, I'm wearing my folding sword holster after all.

Amy nods distractedly at me from her corner. Apparently an angry looking naked vampire was cause for retreat.

"Well, damn. I was really hoping you had."

"Wait, what? I'm not a peeping tom!"

"If you didn't just try to scry for me... someone else, or something else, did. Worse, I have no fucking clue who or what would try to do that or why. " Maybe The Mayor? Or whatever thrice damned power decided to drag me to Sunnydale? Mother might be upset that she can't See me anymore. And not even knowing if the... nouns... screwing with me are people or things is getting kind of old. I'm just going to name he, she, or it, Tom. and be done with it. My thoughts are interrupted by a hand feeling up my arm.

...It's not Amy. She's still in her corner trying, and failing, to suppress an acute case of the giggles. "Oh. Hello, Mrs Bellevu. Are you done baking cookies now?" Why didn't I eat her again? Oh yeah, the threshold that keeps the idiot fledges at bay. Home ownership laws are weird.

Damn, the sun is out. I'm going to have to drink the warm lemonade.

I give her a mental nudge, sending her off to watch TV in the living room. If past experience is any judge she'll do that until she literally can't any more, so I make her take one of the plates of cookies, before I flounce- and isn't that a silly sounding word for angry walking- into the kitchen and down my entire supply of blood packets, cold. It's horrible. I'm still hungry, but I'm less liable to eat someone useful on impulse. Hmmm... I wonder if there's a blood type that fuels magic more efficiently? Slayer blood is supposed to be more potent, but also an aphrodisiac... maybe there are other... vintages..? of note? Something to look into when I'm not hunting down the vampire version of the Holy Grail.

When I get back to the dining room, Amy has finally left the corner I chased her into while interrogating her. The red tint to her checks, and repeating a whispered mantra of, "do not stare at the crazy naked vampire," rotating emphasis between crazy and vampire, reminds me that this is probably a problem best addressed while wearing pants.

"Amy... you are aware that I can hear you right? And repeatedly chanting do not stare only actually helps if you don't then proceed to stare."

"What!?" she eeeps. I guess she wasn't.

"Super hearing, just one of the many benefits of the flying brick package."

"Flying Brick?" Amy continues to stare, but her expression turns puzzled

"Yeah... as in like Superman?" More confusion from Amy who's mouthing 'brick' at me, "It's a... comic books thing. I think? Strong, fast, tough, and can fly. Usually with a whole host of other nonsensical powers just like Superman. Flying Bricks are basically Superman knockoffs"

"...You think you're Superman?" Not quite the takeaway I was aiming for there, and she doesn't sound properly supportive at all. Bad minion... no more cookies for you.

"Well... no, but I'm strong, fast, tough, and in theory if Dracula can do it then I can probably learn to fly too. I also have the excellent sense of hearing... although my eye lasers currently seem to the on fritz, making old ladies bake cookies for 7 hours instead of..." Well honestly I can't think of anything better for her to be doing, and the cookies are pretty good even to my vampire shifted tastebuds.

"I'm pretty sure Superman likes the sun." She has a point, and I'm not really sure what actually made Bizarro Supes tick so I let that slide unmentioned.

I throw my hands up into the air. "Everyone's a critic." I'd be more upset that she doesn't consider me a candidate for the role of Superman if I wasn't pretty sure I was a shoo-in for The Joker. "Anyway, I'm going to go get dressed before Tom takes another shot at me." On the way up the stairs I pause in front of a mirror to try and sort out just what Amy found so damned distracting. I roll my eyes at myself when that works exactly as well as you'd expect and settle for staring down at myself. Hmmm... that's odd. I appear to be gaining muscle mass, not much, but still, any at all is unexpected. How I'm doing that is anyone's guess, I wasn't kidding when I told Amy my body didn't bother with things like sweat or the revolving layer of skin cells any more, and I can't say I've gotten much exercise lately. I suppose "it's a vampire thing" makes as much or more sense than, "Hollywood casting agencies did it" for why all the recurring vampires looked to be in great shape.

Now... where did I leave my pants?

---Bellevu Residence---

I stare at the map on the wall. Thirty seven possible locations. Gods, there are a lot of crypts in this hell hole, how did William... oh right, he just dug up all of them with a horde of minions. Ungh, "Amy, I think you need to call Willow again."

"Really Jack, can't you just look whatever it is up online yourself? Mrs. Bellevu does have a computer..." Amy points at the offending dread machine.

"No, I really can't," I hold the Du Lac Cross up at the Gateway computer as if to ward away a vampire. I've found twirling a cross-- one that Amy isn't aware is specifically warped enough to allow a vampire to hold-- in my bare hands, has done wonders for her belief that I could be Clark Kent. Also, when I find the Gem of Amarra, she wont associate the start of my exhibiting bizarre immunities with our new treasure. Win-Win, I think.

"Why not?"

"It uses Internet Explorer as it's browser!" Amy doesn't seem to appreciate how horrifying that is. Internet Explorer. As in the original. I shudder at the thought. Amy makes exasperated noises beside me while I elaborate, "I need a... I think it's called ground penetrating radar? Either way, it does exactly what I just said, so we should be able to check a few of these spots out without having to go spelunking."

"So... like a metal detector?"

"Sort of. More like... a detector for caverns in the ground where metal might be. Better range than a metal detector too I think."

"Would a really strong metal detector work though?"

"Maybe a really strong one," At this point Amy smells far too pleased with herself to merit anything but my undivided attention.

"So, how about I don't call Willow... and we use a spell that detects metal?"

"Amy... Do you know a spell that detects metal?" My grin is positively feral.

"Uh huh," Amy's expression matches her scent, and is entirely justified in my opinion.

"And can it tell the difference between say... gold coins, and... iron hinges?" Crypts, sadly, are never entirely stone.

"Ummm..." Oh, damn it, that wont work then. "Coins and hinges no, but gold and iron yes." Well then! Fuck your horde of minions with their own shovels, William, I have a specialist. I give my specialist back her plate of cookies. Good Girl.

---Sunnydale Cemetery---

Amy neglected to mention that the spell takes over an hour for her to cast and involves a fuckton of candles. At night. Near where you'd expect to find crypts.

It's our second attempt tonight, fifth overall. Amy's circle of candles flicker in the breeze, easily visible from where I'm perched on top of one of the larger non-crosslike grave markers. Also easily visible is the rapidly approaching shitshow.

I'm about to jump down and run interference so the Scoobies don't catch sight of Amy when I'm spared the hassle by a pair of fledglings accidentally volunteering for the job.

It's like watching a Three Stooges episode. The fledgling vampires are stronger and faster than the Scoobies, but they're also too fucking stupid to take proper advantage of that. So, inevitably, after a solid minute of faffing about with Oz and Xander, one of them gets staked in the back by Willow and the other takes off at a run swearing vengeance.

Understandably the Scoobs look tired but not overly concerned by the fleeing vampire's threats.

Team Scooby calls it a night without noticing myself or Amy, I think I hear Xander wondering if something is broken but I can't quite make out just what at this distance.

Their lack of concern regarding the fledgling's threats are retroactively validated a moment later when it gets too close to Amy and I lop it's head off. I never get tired of that brief look of shock and betrayal on the now free-falling head before it falls to dust when I do that.

Amy no longer seems concerned by approaching fledges. We had to repeat the ritual at the first site after she scrambled backwards through her candles to get away from a cloud of dust. I suppose by now she takes it on faith that my sub-vocally growled declaration of, "mine!" means I'm on top of things security wise. She finishes up her ritual and sighs disappointedly. "Nothing here either."

"Damn. Alright, on to site number six." This is going to take forever, I don't want to think about what it would have been like to dig all of these up. The level of patience my Brother occasionally exhibited is simply astonishing. And that's ignoring that he could live with Mother for a century. I almost drop the box of candles shuddering at the idea.

 

[Aetheron]

*** POV Amy ***

---

---Sunnydale Cemeteries---

I stare at the crypt. It looks just like the previous six. "I guess there's a rule against originality in crypt design?" Jack smirks. He seems to find my observation amusing for some reason he isn't sharing.

That kind of worries me actually. Jack is generally all about oversharing. Oh Goddess, the things I never wanted to know and can never un-hear or un-see now.

Next to me Jack rubs his hands together excitedly, Goddess save me from enthusiastic vampires, "I have a good feeling about this one... What is that? Can you smell that?"

Uh-uh Jack, not going to do it. I know better than to ask what you smell. Fool me once, I've learned my lesson. Enthusiastic, and wildly inappropriate, vampires. "Do vampires even have feelings? I mean I've seen you do Happy, Hungry, and Angry, but even puppies can manage those." Jack opens his mouth to respond, but long term exposure to his brand of humor already has me raising my hand to stop him as I realize my mistake. "And no, Jack, that is NOT an invitation to start peeing on things, or hump my leg... Or chew up my shoes." I stare at him, waiting for any further signs of amusement.

Jack's huffs, and then mutters, "Spoilsport." Rolling my eyes, I shoo him off to patrol the area while I get to work setting up the candles so I can work my magic. Again. I think if someone had told me that I would one day manage to find a magic spell boring, instead of awe inspiring or, after my mom tried to steal my body, terrifying, I'd- -SNAP- Oh what did Jack do now?

I look towards the noise. Oh god there's a giant lizard demon charging at me. It looks hungry. Why do they always look hungry? I scream, scrambling backwards. I think I'm still screaming when I trip over a rock and tumble backwards. Oh God oh God oh God I'm going to die. My eyes screw themselves shut, they don't want to see me get ripped to shreds any more than I do. I hear the thing hit me, making a loud, wet, thunking noise as it... cackles at me..?

Wait, I know that laugh. I'm not in pain. My hands start crawling up and down my body searching for wounds while I pry one of my eyes open and force myself to look at the … At Jack slamming that ridiculously over-sized hammer, that he's been insisting we bring with us everywhere, into the lizard demon thing. If the demon's face is any indication, it's hardly the first time Jack's hit it, and it sounds like it hurts. Jack and the green demon are whirling around lashing out at each other, neither one ever standing still, they're both moving so fast they're blurring at the edges. I look away. This part is never pretty and I really don't want to puke up lunch. Not again.

I need to calm down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Jack's doing that insane cackle he does when he's having fun fighting. Breathe in. Breathe out. I'm not sure he even hears himself doing it. Breathe in. Breathe out. He's having fun. It'll be fine. Breathe in. Breathe out. My limbs stop shivering and I shakily climb to my feet, continuing to listen to the sounds of battle and Jack's laughter.

It can't possibly be healthy to find a vampire laughing maniacally like a cartoon villain calming. Then again, he mostly seems to do it when he's busy reducing something that tried to hurt me into paste. So I guess I can't be blamed for learning to like it.

I think of that dream I had yesterday- Goddess, I've become nocturnal. I dream during the day now?- of my mom coming back to finish the job of killing me. Or steal my body back. I'm not sure which dream I hate more. I'm never strong enough to fight her. My mom terrifies me, that can't be normal. Can't be healthy. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just like in my dream, Jack showed up. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just like in my dream, he saved me. It's what he does. Laughing like a maniac and gleefully murdering anything that tries to hurt me. Breathe in. Breathe out. My mom can't get to me anymore. Jack will eat her. I giggle. It's probably hysterics.

I woke up that evening with a smile on my face. I dreamt of my mom being ripped apart by a crazed vampire and woke up smiling. Who does that? Breathe in. Breathe out. I think I might be a terrible person. Breathe in. Breathe out. Doesn't matter. I'm safe. Behind me Jack's started interspersing profanity and shouts of, "Mine!" into his crazed laughter. I'm not a super big fan of the implications of that last one, but I think I can live with it. I might even live long enough to see graduation. Goddess this town is depressing. And Terrifying. At least Jack never looks at me like his next meal. For a vampire he's weirdly good about keeping a tight rein on that around me. I've seen how he sometimes stares at a passing jogger when he's stuck inside all day, but never at me.

I make the mistake of looking over when the sounds of battle stop. I spin right back around and resume staring directly away from the sight. Jack has apparently moved on the desecrating the corpse portion of his nightly entertainment. I think I just threw up a little. Yup. Definitely just threw up a little. Breathe in. Breathe out. Behind me Jack is grumbling angrily about evolution. Finally, a topic that doesn't make my brain want to gibber incoherently. How someone can be so very, very fascinated by magic, and still get so incredibly upset by the existence of magical creatures. And he seems to take it personally when magic doesn't behave in a manner he considers consistent. Seriously it's... magic, it just... that's just how it is.

Finally something approaching calm, I force myself to focus on my work. I studiously look at nothing but my arranging of the candles. Jack eventually comes back over and plops himself down on a headstone nearby. "So," he starts twirling a pair of sharp looking spike of bone in his hands like they're magic wands. "That smell I mentioned? Apparently that's what a Polgara Demon smells like. Female… I think. That or I did something unfortunate during the fight. Or they don't have genders. Hmmm..." He pauses, holding up one of the bloody spikes, "Anyhoo, the important part is that they have these awesome skewer things that retract into their arms. Apparently they're stupidly hard to break. Like, I actually tried and couldn't do it. I had to dig this one out of it's arm muscles, which I found could break, or rip, cut, whatever. I think I might need a new Leatherman now though." He looks down at himself, "And maybe a new shirt too." Oh. Wow. There's more than a few holes the size of those spikes in his shirt. That must have hurt... I shudder. That... that's what that thing wanted to do to me?

"Gee, thanks for that visual. Do I even want to know why you've decided to keep those things?" Why Amy, why? Why do I let myself asks these questions.

"Oh! My Brother William likes to call himself Spike, I figured I'd give him one for Christmas," Jack's answer isn't nearly as horrifying as I expected until I realize the implications of the way he verbally capitalized the B in brother. It sounds just like the M when he talks about Drusilla... Oh Goddess! There are two of them!?

 

[Aetheron]

---Sunnydale Cemeteries---

"You know, when I agreed with you that it was weird that all the crypts kinda looked the same yesterday I didn't expect the universe would comes up with… this." I mean, I figured it was just potential evidence that this is all some TV Show world with a low set design budget. I look the rather bizarre crypt over briefly before concluding that unlike the previous nine this one really doesn't even begin to match what I saw on the show. "Amy, this isn't it, it looks completely wrong." But, at least we're starting our night on a new note.

"Wrong?" Amy is still doing the trying to stare in every direction thing she started doing when that Polgara Demon got so close to her yesterday. Poor showing on my part really, I didn't realize the smell was anything so dangerous. The show somehow managed to fail in its conveyance of scent, which is really rather sad as there is so much information available that way. Ah well, now it'll be another few days before Amy stops twitching at random noises. On the plus side she doesn't seem to be putting any energy into her glares when she hears me call her 'my' witch. "Hello?" I apparently forgot to answer her in the midst of thinking about her.

"Oh... Yeah, it looks nothing like the description of the crypt we're looking for." Amy has been getting better about not asking awkward questions like, 'Who told you? How do you know this? Did you really need to actually beat that man to death with his own arms?' which I'm choosing to take as proof that those basic psychology courses father took back in the day still apply even after his inter-dimensional kidnapping.

"So we skip it?"

"uh… well… maybe not. I mean, we did find that kick ass door knocker in number 4. So just because the treasure we're looking for isn't here doesn't mean there isn't something to be found." One day I shall have that door knocker enchanted to bite anyone that tries to use it, it'll be hilarious, and an awesome way to preemptively maim any overly polite enemies that come a knocking on my door. Hmmm... then again, if he ever actually held an election, I'd vote for him. Assuming I can vote. Mother probably didn't file for a death certificate before burying me in the back yard right? Oh who the fuck knows, Mother could have filled out the form in Old English or ancient Sumerian just because it amused her briefly.

... I should learn how write in ancient Sumerian. I add it to the list.

"…Okay…" Amy sighs, and starts setting out her candles. Dear Sweet Christ on a Cracker woman! Could you possibly be any less enthusiastic about casting magic? It's magic! You are about to chant nonsense at the ground and then demand that it tell you what the fuck is down there. AND THEN IT FUCKING ANSWERS YOU! How is that not absolutely fucking amazing!? I can't even levitate a fucking pencil yet and I'm still excited every time it twitches. Granted, after an hour of watching a twitching pencil I wind up needing to down another cup of lemonade, but the microwave helps make it slightly less atrocious tasting. I think I'm making progress.

I find a convenient, and much closer than usual, headstone to keep watch from. I have no more interest in a repeat of yesterday than Amy does after all. Well, maybe that's not entirely true. The fight with the Polgara demon was fucking amazing. I got to hit a demon in the head with a twenty pound sledge hammer. Repeatedly. But still, I'd rather not have to deal with Willow's… moral compass... so losing Amy isn't really something I can afford.

Despite her grumbling, Amy does her thing. As usual, my butt only fails to fall asleep because blood flow isn't a thing that I do anymore. Which is odd now that I think about it. I'm a blood demon. You'd think I'd be all about the normal blood type things. I wonder if an overcharged pacemaker could make my heart beat? Then again, extremely low blood pressure is my friend when being skewered repeatedly. Although the looks on the Scoobies face when they realize I have a pulse might be worth it. Ah fuck it, you know I'm bored when I start to consider their reactions to things.

I'm in the middle of my third re-count of the headstones when Amy leaps up, "I found something!" she points into the crypt.

Finally! Some enthusiasm. I follow her in, finding her staring at a fancy looking sarcophagus.

"It's, uh… maybe three feet below the stone… coffin thing." Seriously? You get a location? It's not just a simple yes or no response? And you were bored!?

"Sarcophagus."

"Gesundheit?"

"Stone coffin thing. It's called a sarcophagus."

"… Do vampires all gain some sort of weird coffin lore skill?"

"No, I just really liked that game Diablo."

"You ward off Mrs Bellevu's computer with a cross," Amy hesitates, clearly debating asking how I can do that again, before continuing, "But you loved a video game named after the devil. Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey! If man were meant to use Internet Explorer, he'd have been born without a brain." I feel like Archimedes would approve of my paraphrasing of his wise words on flying. Amy just doesn't understand the how much Evil is represented by that little blue e. "But, we're off topic, you said three feet down?"

Amy nods, then hides behind me as stone chips begin to flee before the might of my sledge hammer. Three feet down, it turns out, is actually two feet below the floor. Somebody built this crypt on top of a treasure? Weirdo. Now I have to use a shovel… I really need to find some generic minions for this kind of make-work. Pulverizing a sarcophagus is fun, digging just lacks that same... panache. ... I probably could have just lifted it out of the way. Ah well. Time to play 'dig dug: /r/outside edition.'

Lifting the shovel up, a bit of gold glinting in the light has my groan of annoyance drowned out by Amy's happy squeal. Amy snatches up the amulet and shines her flashlight on it. Her grin falters as my shouted, "Gods Damn It," reaches her brain, she drops the amulet like it burned her and stares at it suspiciously.

"What's wrong? Is the amulet dangerous?" Well no, if we ignore the obvious issue of curses and contagion I'm sure it's fine. But that's not the problem.

"Not directly… but it's owner is just... kind of like Jabba the Hutt." Discovering Amy liked the movies was an amazing accident. Almost as amazing as realizing that Jar-Jar doesn't exist yet. Even weirder, so did Mrs. Bellevu… well, as much as she's capable of liking or disliking anything at the moment. Just because my currently lower powered Thrall forced me to be more subtle, doesn't mean I fully understand what's going on in that woman's mind. I think she believes Amy and I are like a step beyond her favorite grandkids? it would explain the cookies, and her new found tendency to pinch our cheeks and smile at us. But she can't explain herself because she still hasn't given any indication that she possesses the ability to speak. Which is strange, I think, as Amy doesn't remember her being a mute.

"… so like a Mafia Boss? or just really fat?" I'm not sure Amy puffing out her cheeks is necessary, but it is amusing for reasons she probably won't appreciate. Not that she'd understand who Sasha Grey is... Will be? Fucking time travel.

"Both actually, and worse, Balthazar is a cult leader. As in vampire cultists with sword fetishes. This must be the Gleaves family tomb."

"So we put it back?" I give Amy points for declining to mention that I sleep with a sword strapped to my arm, and not asking how I know that name.

"No… we just can't sell it for the quick cash we were hoping to. I'll have to figure out a way to contact Balthazar and arrange a trade. Dude's fucking ancient so I imagine he must have something of value to us that we can get him to exchange for it." Or if I ever need to distract The Mayor in a hurry I could hand it over and watch the fireworks.

"Okay… and the rest?"

"What do you mean the rest?"

Amy shines her flashlight down into the hole I dug out, "Well, there was more gold down there than that amulet alone" Wait. You also get quantity? I love magic sometimes.

I dig up a gold bracelet, and a... well... I don't know what it was, but slamming the shovel into it turned it into a lump. Oops.

Amy immediately picks up the bracelet and starts to put on. I smack it out of her hands, relieved when my tattoos don't sizzle, "Fucks sakes Amy. Curses, Poisons, if the Gleaves family was crazy enough to pick a fight with Balthazar and steal his amulet, I wouldn't be shocked if they had other weird trinkets. Dangerous trinkets."

"Oh I didn't think about that. I'll have to look up a detection spell for that."

"Meh. Honestly, I don't think I'd have thought about it either if I wasn't rereading those Harry Potter books." I snap my jaw shut before I can mention the fucking Gaunt Ring. Gods Damn It.

"Oh. Yeah. The diary? ... yeah, let's not touch the treasure until we test it." Oh good, Chamber of Secrets is already out. That could have been awkward.

We start shifting the rubble back into the hole once Amy confirms that all of the gold ought to be accounted for.

---Later---

Apparently Saint Murphy was watching when Amy and I were joking around about our good fortune at having found our first proper treasure, and he felt the need to remind us of his existence.

Amy, it seems, wanted to enchant the bracelet as a good luck charm. I admit this is a slightly better reason for wanting it than the "it's shiny" I was expecting. Sadly, I may never know why gold is better than silver for good luck charms because, with our gear all packed up into a large duffle bag and slung over my shoulder, I wasn't quite able to stop Amy in time when I heard a voice I recognized coming from around the corner of the graveyard entrance.

This left me staring, horrified, at Amy having an impromptu, 'who can look more surprised' contest with Willow as they collided with each other under the entrance archway. Okay Jack, think fast, why are you and Amy in a graveyard after dark in Sunnydale? Willow knows Amy knows about the… dangers that entails. Xander rounding the corner a half second later provides an easy answer.

I turn to Amy, "You see? We're not the only ones out having fun. I don't see why you got so nervous when it got dark," I indicate Willow and Xander with a nod of my head, "they're out here too, so clearly it can't be that dangerous around here. You don't have to try and scare the new guy in town." I roll my eyes exaggeratedly and, facing them directly, I smile at the two Scoobs, "Hey guys, if you're looking for a good spot there's a clump of trees over thatawayish." I wave my hand in no particular direction. "They should keep you hidden from any cops looking to enforce those pesky public indecency laws." It takes everyone a moment to catch on to what I'm implying, but then Amy and Willow both turn bright red and start spluttering. I think Willow might have a slight genetic advantage in the 'who can turn reddest' contest. Xander looks torn between amused and upset on Willow's behalf. Hmmm, he also looks mildly distressed. Either he still thinks of Willow as his sister and is grossed out, or he's already begun to notice she's a girl and is uncomfortable about my implications striking close to home.

Oz, hitherto absent for reasons unknown, finally arrives and I go for broke, "Oh. Wow…" I try to look slightly uncomfortable, but its hard while fighting back laughter, "…uh… kinky. I knew you Californians were laid-back but… uh yeah… have fun you guys. We'll leave you to it." I grab Amy and tug her around them, "Amy, we should probably be getting home, I did promise your dad I'd have you home like 15 minutes ago." Willow is impersonating a bright red fish. Oz looks confused, and Xander finally cracks and gives in to a snort of derision. I think Xander deserves a Scooby Snack for holding out as long as he did in the face of the absurdity that is me on a roll. I make a mental note to buy the man some Twinkies. Do they sell them by the case?

I'm half dragging Amy along while she glares at me with indignation. I'm about to continue teasing her when my good mood flees as I hear Oz interrupt Willow whining at Xander for laughing, "Guys? Who was that? He didn't smell human." Fuck. I guess the nose game cuts both ways. Time to be... not here.

Amy is now doing an admirable job of proving that she can glare at me indignantly even while being carried at full vampire sprint. That's pretty damn impressive actually.

---Sunnydale Memorial Hospital---

"Why are we here again?" Aha! I make note that Amy will abandon her attempts at giving me the silent treatment if she wants answers.

"Because, bumping into the local demon hunters in a graveyard at night once is funny," Amy's face says she strongly disagrees with my assessment of the encounter, but she doesn't interrupt, "twice would probably have them scrambling to investigate me. I'd rather they didn't poke their noses in our business. So, we're going to skip the other sites in the main graveyards for now and hit up the ones out on the outskirts of town. We can start with the ones up by those caves. Hopefully, even with Oz's moon cursed nose telling them I'm not fully human they'll eventually bugger off." Unlikely, but a man can dream. Hmmm... maybe Amy should tell her parent that she's staying with a friend and sack out at Mrs. Bellevu's?

"No, I mean, here, at the hospital." oh. That.

"Thinking about Scooby Snacks gave me the munchies. I figured I'd swing through the local market on our way out to the caves." Amy still looks puzzled, so I lean in an explain in a whisper, "…I'm going to raid the blood bank. Wait here in the lobby with the bags okay?"

"Oh... Okay." Casual acceptance of lawlessness? Good Minion. You can have some of the Twinkies when I buy the case.

Having Amy along for this is quite helpful in a rather embarrassing way. The hardest part of the whole job is getting in the fucking building. It turns out that the automatic door sensors count as surveillance according to my tattoos which prickled right before I walked straight into the door the first time I did this. I had to wait for someone else to visit the hospital and trigger the doors. In Sunnydale. At night. It took a while for anyone to show up. After that, stealing some scrubs and following one of the surgical types into the elevator was relatively easy. Color coded scrubs for employees was a fantastic idea, it makes it so much easier for me to blend in appropriately.

I throw what little psychic power I can still manage into my requested, "Basement please," as I board the elevator behind a fellow green scrubs dude. I've found that I can manage to get people to go along with reasonable sounding requests fairly easily and, best of all, quickly, by nudging them with Thrall. Coworkers asking you to push the button seems to count as reasonable. For some reason, they still get… cranky… if I ask them to do while wearing civvies.

Gods I miss being able to just overpower people's minds with brute force. Not enough to regret the tattoos, especially since they've fended off three of those inexplicable magical pulses already, but still. Sandblasting soup crackers was nice while it lasted.

Once Mr. Green has swiped his badge and pressed the button, I repeat the trick on the guy working for the blood bank, "I need 10 packets of… B+ STAT," and add a new cooler full of blood to my growing collection of hospital coolers. So far as I can tell, the blood type doesn't seem to make any difference whatsoever, but then again father was never very good at tasting subtle differences in food flavors, so that may just be me. In any case, I haven't tried B+ yet.

I have to wonder how much longer this will work. Eventually someone will notice that the blood bank employees are all describing the same guy when explaining the missing packets right? Then again I won't show up on the security footage so who knows if they'll be believed. I change back into my black tee shirt and jeans and make my way out to the lobby. Speaking of clothing; I should get a leather trench coat, and then have it enchanted like Dresden's. I imagine bullets still hurt even if they can't kill me. Then again, I'm sure Grandfather and William would both accuse me of copying their style, and I'd never be able to explain that I'm actually stealing the style of a character from a book that hasn't been written yet. Ah well. Maybe a steel breastplate? It wouldn't actually be that heavy. Kind of conspicuous though.

"Hey Amy, time to go."

Amy looks at me funny, "Jack, why are you wearing a scrub cap?" oh. oops. I remove the offending article of headgear. This is what happens when I try to dress myself while daydreaming about enchanted trench coats.

"Not. A. Word." I decide Amy's laughter is a marked improvement over either the twitchy paranoia the night started with or the indignant silence our close call with Team Scooby produced.

 

[Aetheron]

---Sunnydale Cemeteries---

"Ooh. I have a good feeling about this one." It's a bit bigger than the others, but similar in style. It matches what I recall of William and Harmony's successful discovery quite well. Why didn't I start with the one's by the caves again?

Sadly, Amy doesn't share my enthusiasm, "Jack! No! No feelings! The last time you had a good feeling about a place I almost got eaten by a Pogo Demon."

"Oh come on, I know what Polgara Demon smells like now, and that fight was awesome!" I try to tamp down on the enthusiasm a bit since Amy is still occasionally freaking out when a stick snaps in the distance. But... this place just looks so... perfect.

I make sure my sentry post is clearly in her line of sight and settle down for an hour of skull numbing boredom while I wait for her to either confirm, or destroy, my optimistic excitement.

Or not. That is definitely the sound of something that thinks it's being sneaky.

... And that's another.

Oh. Right. I remember why we didn't start at the caves now. I figured before Adam, they'd be infested. Ah the joys of being proven right.

... uh... that's new. I feel... a strange sense of recognition and my tattoo tingles faintly. Why do I have a general fix on that one particular vampire's location in my head? And what the ever-loving fuck is she doing to set off my tattoos?

Abandoning any pretext of being unaware of what is starting to sound like a small pack of moronic fledges, I trigger the release on my sword and grab my tazer from the bag. Thanking the gods I found the charger before I sold the farm truck, I set off to intercept Team Derp-Squad the Un-Silent and their leader Miss. Tingles.

... Why do I know she's female?

Sadly, they aren't so stupid that they don't notice something is wrong when I lop the head off the first one I come across. I tazer the one that's making my senses flare in the face. She goes down and starts convulsing, which is great, but my tattoos don't stop tingling, which is not. The other two rush at me like bulls chasing a red flag. Idiots.

Gods Damn It! Why am I the fucking lifeguard for the vampiric gene pool?

---Almost an Hour Later---

"And... 19! AH! AH! AH!" I drive the most recent participant in this idiotic little siege into a tree branch and watch him fall to dust. These fuckers have zero self preservation instincts. I try to shake my left arm again. Nope, still unresponsive. Shoulder wounds are annoying. Pins and needles are setting in though, which I think is a good sign. Not a sign that makes sense, no blood flow, but whatever. I'll take it.

Apparently either 19 is the magic number, or the one remaining vampire noticed he was alone and didn't like his odds. He takes off at a run. Normally, I'd love to chase him down, but that would leave Amy alone in these gods forsaken woods with whatever shows up next. Screw it. I rip the pistol out of its holster, and shoot him in the back, three times. I hadn't actually expected to hit him three times, or even once really. I only fired the second and third shots because I assumed the first would miss. Father had atrocious aim in paintball. Then again, this thing has barely any recoil that I could feel, and the moron was running directly away from me rather than dodging around. Hmmm, I should probably add visiting a firing range for an assessment to that ever mounting list of crap I need to do. I stalk over and he's dusted before he gets back up onto his feet. "20! AH! AH! AH!" My arm twitches a bit when I attempt to clap happily. Awesome. I love vampire healing. Hmmm... I'm going to need to raid the cooler again.

Taking full advantage of the lull, I roll Miss Tingles over. Oh hey, I know her. She's one of the anointed one's minions, or she was, a year ago... huh... maybe that weird sense is something you get from being vaguely related to a vampire? That would make this my... something or other-th cousin something removed. She's not bad to look at. I drag her unconscious body back to Amy's ring of candles. I can always stake her later if she won't explain the bizarre reaction I have to her. See, this is why older Brothers shouldn't kidnap Mothers before the younger Brother manages to get out of the ground. I feel like explaining this kind of stuff ought to have been Mother's job.

I mean, for fucks sake, she managed to program in demands that I stop whatever the fuck she means by burning up in the sunshine, but forgot to include the vampire for dummies manual. Fucking Typical.

Amy finishes her spell and rushes over to me with the most brilliant smile I've ever seen from her, right up until she trips over my maybe cousin's body in the dark and drops the candle she was using for light. Getting the girl night vision goggles or some manner of magical equivalent goes on the list, while my maybe cousin goes up in flames. Damn it... eh, I almost managed to care.

"Ow! Ah! Fire!" I pull Amy away from the flames. "What the hell was she doing there? Oh, whatever, I don't I want to know. We found it!" It's hard to be upset about anything when Amy has such fantastic news.

I grin back at her, but have to ask. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I have no idea if it's the treasure you were told about, but there is a LOT of gold and silver about fifteen feet down." Amy has started doing a little happy dance while chanting, "Rich. Rich. Rich."

Wait... Fifteen feet down? That's a lot of rock. Oh, there must be a lower level. Well okay then! Time for some more Breaking and Entering.

---Inside the Crypt---

There's a lower level. I don't have to dig through ten feet of stone or dirt. However... "I." WHAM! "Hate."WHAM! "Reinforced." WHAM! "Fucking." WHAM! "Doors." WHAM! After hours of pounding away at what looks like a low tech vault door I've managed to dent it more than a fair bit. It's finally starting to buckle. William made this look fucking easy. The extra century he's got on me must make him distressingly stronger than I am. I'm going to need to fix that if I plan to keep my prize. Thank gods I'm not trying to stay hidden from a Slayer while I do this. Digging in from below suddenly seems far more daunting.

The giant ball of burning suck being out might have something to do with my level of irritation. It wasn't that long after midnight when Amy and I broke into the upper level. Now I'll be stuck here all day if this isn't the right trove of treasure, or... well, I'm probably stuck here anyway unless I want Amy to make the miniscule mental leap required to notice I found something noteworthy down here when I don't burn up in the fucking sunshine. I've only just barely gotten her used to the idea that crosses don't faze me, I don't think she'd accept my victory over daylight nearly as easily.

WHAM! I resume hammering away at the door. "Aha!"

The sound of the door finally yielding seems to summon Amy back from her lookout post by the outer door almost as if by magic. "We're in!?" Wow, even excited she sounds exhausted. I guess it's a good thing I was making enough noise to wake the dead. Quite literally in three cases, which had led to renewals of the besieging forces. Amy taking a nap on watch may have ended poorly.

"We're in. Now, what's the rule?"

"Don't touch anything until after it's been checked for curses."

"Good girl!" She doesn't seem to appreciate being patted on the head. Maybe I messed up her hair?

I almost immediately violate my own rule, pocketing the Gem of Amarra while Amy is distracted by the tiara. I feel safe enough pointing it out to her since it didn't melt Harmony's brains like that stupid Diadem would have. Then again, would anyone have been able to tell?

Ring secured I look around the room at the other bits and pieces. It's much more impressive looking in person than on TV, though that may have been a result of William not caring about anything beyond the Gem. Sorting through all this... could take a while.

---Still Inside the Crypt---

A while, it turns out is a massive underestimate.

With the excitement induced adrenaline surge wearing off, Amy's attempts to 'test all the things' for magic comes to an abrupt halt when she passes out on her feet. I barely manage to catch her before she hits her head on a table as she goes down.

Hmmmm... This is both horribly concerning, and incredibly convenient. I lay her down on a corner of the floor to sleep off her... hopefully overwork induced exhaustion? I pick up and fiddle with all of the things she tested to make sure my tattoos don't flare. I do not need Amy reprising the role of Aurora right now. My tattoos give me no indication of magic trying to affect me.

Just to double check, I walk back over and flop down next to my witch. "Amy? Wake up!" Amy fidgets slightly, murmurs something about hammering her mother, and claims my leg as a pillow. I... am not really sure what to make of that, but I would guess it at least means she's not in a magical coma. I suppose sitting here against the wall is as good a place to try out my new ring as any. I fish it out of my pocket, making sure not to disturb the sleeping witch and put it on my finger.

Tapping the cross to my left produces no pain. Neither does grabbing it. Score. Now I just need to find a less obvious way to... wear... it...

...

I look at the ring that I know is magical that is sitting on my finger. The magical ring that I picked up. The magical ring that I put on. The magical ring that set off no warning alarms whatsoever from my tattoos. Not even a tingle. The magical ring that is very clearly affecting me without upsetting my tattoos.

I look over at the pile of items I tested for curses by picking up and playing with and seeing if my tattoos gave off any warnings.

Well... I grew overconfident in my tattoo's abilities remarkably fast. "FUCKING FUCK!" I wonder if-

Amy punches my leg and murmurs sleepily, "No Jack... no fucking my mom..."

...What? What the shit? Where did that come from? I think there might be something wrong with my favorite minion.

...

I really need to start carrying around a tape recorder so I can prove these moments actually happened later, she is never going to believe me.

 

[Aetheron]

I was worrying about something wasn't I? Something about Amy? My favorite minion, who's asleep with her head in my lap right now. My tattoos itch.

I rub my eyes to try and clear out the ants that are always crawling around behind them during the day. Damn, it never works this close to noon.

Noon!? When did it become fucking noon. I bolt upright.

Son of a fuck! We got cursed by... something in that pile over there. I can feel myself calming down despite my efforts to hold onto my rage. Fucking persistent curses.

Swearing angrily at the curse seems to help. Or maybe it just makes me feel better. I revel in the feeling of anything but calm. Fan-fucking-tastic showing Jack. I slide into gameface and roar at the pile containing the cursed whichever it is. I shake Amy, she murmers incoherently but doesn't wake up. Damn it. Sleeping curse maybe? Might explain why I seem to be shaking it off after merely getting apathetically calm and lethargic. I can't actually be sleepy.

I still may not have noticed, or held onto the idea, that anything was wrong if the giant yellow cancer ball hadn't been trying to eat my eyes from the inside out. I snort, a vampire owing his life to the fucking Sun. What a fitting capstone to the day I got my hands on my new ring.

I walk over to the cooler and start chugging blood. The ice has melted and the blood is just passed the point where it'd be healthy for a human, but that just makes it taste a slight bit worse than usual. Hardly a challenge to wolf down. Damn it William. How did you do this without any issues? Were you just so focused on the Gem that you ignored everything else? Or are older vamps more curse resistant? I bite into the next blood packet.

The blood finally does the trick, kicking me back into full gear. I throw Amy over my shoulder and carry her to the truck. It's weird, stepping out of that crypt for the first time. I remember father spending a fair amount of time in the Sun, but this, this is my first time being able to meet its angry gaze. Everything seems impossibly bright under the light of day. I'm not convinced I like it. I'm fairly certain the feeling is mutual.

Once Amy is securely locked in the truck, engine running and AC fending off the beginning of a California Summer, I dump out our spelunking gear in the back. Heading back into the crypt, I carefully shovel, as in with the actual shovel, the various pieces of loot into our bag, which then gets dumped into the back. Once everything not nailed down is in my truck, I do the same with the pile of stuff containing the cursed... containing at least one cursed item. Making assumptions is what got us into this mess. I keep that crap separated by simply leaving it in the bag.

I'm finally climbing into the driver's seat when it occurs to me that I have no idea how to break a curse that doesn't involve getting Grandfather laid. Damn.

The universe decides that this is an excellent time to have my tattoos glow white hot as another minute long... whatever the fuck this is sweeps over me. Thank gods I've been overeating lately.

---- Later ----

Amy's been asleep for about 6 hours now, which doesn't seem nearly so sinister until I still can't wake her up. Shaking her gets her to say the damnedest things, but never anything more. I tuck her into the guest bed and set to work. I will not lose my favorite minion to a gods damned sleeping curse.

Opening the front door, I flag down the first joggers I see. "Excuse me! Have either of you seen a dog running around? She's a small golden retriever. Answers to the name Buffy?" The two women out for an afternoon jog stop and turn towards me as I approach them. I catch the nearer one's eyes, 'It's Hot out. Come inside for a drink of water.' She smiles at me and starts walking towards the door.

"No, I'm sorry, we haven- Karen? Where are you-" The other jogger starts. I put my hand on her shoulder and she looks at me in confusion.

'Follow your friend.' I close the door behind us as we head into the kitchen. "You should see some of the stuff my friend and I found on our latest dig, they're very pretty."

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 7.

Amy continues to sleep, occasionally grumbling about her mother. If spoken to, she incorporates overheard statements into her ramblings inconsistently.

I've verified that that the guilty item is the small silver pocket watch. Subjects A and B both fell into the same manner of fitful sleep that Amy is in after handling it.

Subject A has been given a full pot of coffee. Subject appears to drink fluids normally if the usual methods of inducing swallowing are used.

I put down the notebook and begin working on Subject B. I sigh, it looks like I'm starting Project Ghoul testing early. I fetch a paring knife from the kitchen and crouch down next to Subject B's position on the basement floor. I slice open my palm... damn it. I slip the Gem of Amarra off my finger and into my pocket, then I slice the palm of my hand and start dripping blood into subject B's mouth. I know that removing most of her blood and then having her drink my blood will make a fledgling, but the series never seemed to cover what happens if a generally healthy person consumes vampire blood. If it works like it would in White Wolf's Masquerade or the Dresden Books, I'm hoping one of the traits Subject B develops includes a resistance to sleeping curses. I head back upstairs and set the kitchen timer for an hour.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 10.

Having become concerned about dehydration I have borrowed a nurse from Sunnydale Memorial along with an IV drip setup. My weakened Thrall does not appear to have negatively impacted Nurse Dora's ability to find a vein in Subject A's arm, so I'm having her set Amy up for long term care.

Subject A has begun to show symptoms associated with stimulants, such elevated heart-rate and blood pressure. Nurse Dora has confirmed my measurements.

Subject B has ingested roughly one blood packet of vampire blood. My resistance to the curse does not yet show any signs of having transferred.

The doorbell rings while I attempt to puzzle out the Latin in the book Amy was using to develop her magical testing spell. Who could that be? I go upstairs and happily discover that Nurse Dora shows no sign of acknowledging the door bell, instead continuing to check her vitals and recording anything Amy says in her sleep.

I open the door to find a middle-aged couple on the doorstep. "Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior Jesus?" I blink at them.

They seem surprised to be invited in with a happy smile.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 16.

Nurse Dora's notes on Amy's ramblings indicate a distinct tendency for them to involve her mother. She appears to be distressed by this. At my insistence and with my assistance Nurse Dora has begun feeding Amy nutrient shakes every few hours to prevent starvation and keep her strength up. Amy appears to be more alert presently than any of the test Subjects. Possibly because her magic is fighting back? Or perhaps she's just naturally talkative in her sleep and the curse is exacerbating this.

Subject A's heart rate is starting to slow down again. I think the second pot of coffee's effects have peaked and are beginning to wear off. It's probably not worth having Mrs. Bellevu brew up a third. I'll have Nurse Dora administer the epi-pen I found on Subject C's former husband.

Subject B is also still asleep but seems to be showing signs of restlessness. That's promising, I think? Although it's possible she's normally a sleepwalker. I've tied her down to a cot to prevent any wandering.

Subject C flinches and screams when fire is applied via blowtorch but still does not wake up. Having tried extreme trauma, cold, and now heat induced stimuli I'm coming to the conclusion that pain is not capable of waking a cursed victim.

I check on Amy again, Nurse Dora is feeding her another nutrient shake, before returning to the book of Latin gibberish. If my efforts at deciphering it are accurate, then I feel like Amy's detection spell should have worked just fine... But I'm not exactly a linguist. Ungh, I'm not even really clear if the spell is no good, failed to beat some masking charm, or if Amy was just so tired naturally that she flubbed it. I rub my eyes, at least the Sun is finally starting to fuck off.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 28.

Amy remains asleep. Her heart rate is steady and she continues to mumble nonsense when I'm in the room. I am unable to say with certainty anymore what she does when I am not present as leaving the pocket watch out on the kitchen table has proven to be a mistake. Nurse Dora has been re-designated Subject D.

Subject A appears to succumbed to her earlier heart attack. I've drained her body of blood and moved her off to the side.

Subject B's restlessness has increased. She has begun to strain against her bindings, which I have increased. Sadly, she continues to show no indication of wakefulness.

Subject C has recovered normally from her initial testing. The curse does not appear to impede the body's natural clotting mechanisms. I should be able to move on to phase 2 soon.

Subject D's mind feels strange. There is a bizarre sensation, like a wall of cotton is wrapped around it, preventing me from making contact. There was no such sensation when I was 'convincing' her that her most important patient was in a room of the hospital that she should really just follow me to. Maybe the curse acts more like locked in syndrome than sleep?

My efforts with the Amy's book about curses may have paid off. I've found what I think is a general purpose curse removal spell for the lower level stuff. It involves calling on a relevant deity for aid, but what the hell, father's atheism makes a bit less sense in a world where gods and goddesses actually run around killing people. I pick out Asclepius from Amy's books on gods and goddess, thankfully written in English. If Nurse Dora and I are both wrong, and this is somehow a type of contact poison that washing can't remove from the pocket watch, then a god of health and medicine ought to be useful anyway.

Unfortunately it seems I'm going to need some supplies from the magic store. I instruct Mrs. Bellevu not to answer the door for anyone. She nods agreeably. Hmmm... maybe she was naturally a mute? Her lack of speech certainly doesn't seem to distress her.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 31.

I chant in my best guess at how you pronounce Latin. I ask for aid from a Roman god of medicine that I imagine would have spoken Latin. I burn the sacred incense I bought at the store. I sacrifice subject C.

Amy continues to sleep while making snide comments about her mother. Damn it!

I think I got it right. Maybe Asclepius was just fucking busy.

My tattoos flare brilliantly, but very briefly. Or... maybe he couldn't fucking find me to answer the call? I throw the book in a fit of rage. Fucking magic.

Subject B has ingested, by my best estimate, about three blood packs worth of my blood. She continues to struggle with her bindings. Attempts to use Thrall to poke around behind the curtain have so far been unsuccessful. I no longer seem to be able to locate a mind behind the cottony walls. I suspect Project Ghoul may not be a viable solution to this problem.

Subject D's cottony mind-shields have begun to yield under my repeated, and increasingly angry, bursts of Thrall. If I thought it was difficult to describe the sensation of forcing my mind and will into another person's head, it pales in comparison to trying to fathom the sensations involved in finding something else in there with me. It is also strange to feel like I'm bashing my head against a wall.... but have it feel like the wall is giving way rather than my skull. Promising though.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 36.

Replacing the saline bag hanging from her IV pole, I pry open Amy's eyes and poke around carefully. The general Amy-ness impression of her mind is stronger than in Subject D, I wonder if the increased mental strength is related to her magic? Or If it's a sympathetic function of how familiar I am with her?

Subject B now requires a gag to keep her from biting off her own tongue.

Subject D is... "awake." Her eyes are open, and they track any lights I shine into them on their own. She also grabs at anything you put in her hands like an infant would. Loud noises seem to terrify her, and she shows no signs of recognizing her own name. I'm not clear if her current state is a result of the curse or of using Thrall like an angry battering ram to get past it.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 43.

Carefully nudging at the cotton in Amy's mind appears to be helping her fight it off. Amy now consistently incorporates things said to her into her ramblings.

Subject B's physical strength is very promising. I've transferring the bindings formerly assigned to A and C to her after she got her arm free by snapping the ropes. Feeding her more of my blood seems to calm her down for a short period of time.

Subject D seems to be recovering. She's awake, alert-ish, and recognizes the sound of her own name. She does not, however, know what her name is when prompted, or what year it is. She does not know who the president is. I don't actually have any idea what else I'm supposed to ask someone as part of a mental assessment, or if she even knew who the president was before testing. I strongly suspect she once knew her name was Dora even if I had to check my notes to find it.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 52.

Amy's recovery is now following along Subject D's path. She opens her eyes, follows lights, grabs at things... mostly me. She lacks Subject D's general level of terror however. Slow consistent prodding accompanied by verbal encouragement appears to be far better for a human's mental well being than the angry battering ram demanding the person 'wake the fuck up' approach. I cannot claim this is a surprising discovery. Humans tend to be rather skittish like that.

Subject B is no longer struggling against her bonds. I am still unable to locate anything behind the cotton, but the cotton does appear to have cleared somewhat. It is unclear what's going on at this time.

Subject D is definitely recovering. She knows her name, what year it is, and has informed me that Clinton is actually still president. Advanced motor skills like walking are not quite recovered yet however. The cottony sensation still clings to the back corners of her mind however. I suspect that a relapse may be possible if I abandon treatment.

---

Amy's Nap-time Log, Hour 56.

Amy seems to be alone in her head as of the last check up. She feels the way Mrs. Bellevu did while she was sleeping normally. There is no longer any sense of cotton anywhere I can find. Given her accelerated and improved recovery, I strongly suspect that Amy's magic provided some measure of natural resistance.

Subject B is missing. She appears to have snapped out of her restraints, terminated Subject D's treatment, and escaped out the cellar window.

Subject D appears to have died from blunt trauma delivered via bare hands. The fairly minimal defensive wounds lead me to believe that fine motor skills were still not yet fully recovered when this occurred, but self preservation instinct was.

Hmmm... I should probably go after Subject B. I can't imagine anything good coming of her being in the wind.

Upstairs I hear a familiar voice croak out, "...Jack?"

"Amy!?" I dart up the stairs with a smile on my face, Subject B will probably survive long enough for me to find her later. Right?

 

[Aetheron]

*** POV Willow ***

---

---Sunnydale Cemeteries : After Part 10-Scene 2---

What does he... OH MY GOD! I AM NOT HAVING A THREESOME WITH OZ AND XANDER!

... Did Xander just laugh!?

"Xander! That is not funny!" I whack my best friend for being a poopy-head. I am not having sex in a graveyard!

... Okay, I'm going to give this guy a piece of my mind.

"Now you listen here Bust... Wha- Where did he go?" The Jerk Amy was hanging out with disappeared while I was looking at Xander... so did Amy.

"Guys? Who was that?" my boyfriend doesn't sound properly outraged. Why doesn't he ever sound upset? "He didn't smell human."

"You can smell that?" I didn't know- Oh. Oh no! "Amy!"

We rush out of the graveyard after them. They're gone, but my boyfriend says he can still smell them so they haven't been gone long.

---Sunnydale Memorial Hospital---

We lost them! Amy's in trouble and it's going to be all my fault for getting flustered by that jerk and his insinuations. I should have been paying attention. I mean, he didn't actually do anything to Amy, but if he doesn't smell human that's bad right? And he's a Jerk, an extra jerky jerk. Saying I was going to have sex in a graveyard. Amy shouldn't be hanging around with a Jerk.

Xander's holding a scrub cap we found outside the hospital that smells like Amy's Jerk friend.

"It'll be okay Wills, we can go ask Amy's dad if he knows who she's been hanging around with lately." That's my Xander. ...When he's not being a poopy head laughing at Jerks and their jokes.

---Madison Residence---

"Oh, Hello Miss Rosenberg, Amy's not here"

"Hi Mr. Madison, do you know where she is?"

"She's out with her friend. They've been working on a project for their archaeology club this past week. She usually gets home a little before dawn" Amy has been out every night for a week? And just before dawn? Is her new friend a vampire? Is Amy a vampire!? This is terrible!

"Thank you Mr. Madison. Could you tell her to call me when she comes home?" IF she comes home.

Mr. Madison closes the door and we head away from the house. Xander asks, "Oz, Amy smelled human, right?" Oh right!

"Yeah. I think so. She smelled like human, and perfume."

"Perfume... Hey there's no chance we're chasing them around town because this guy wears a cologne right? ... Right?"

---Rosenberg Residence - Willow's Room---

Amy didn't call. I call her.

"Amy hasn't come home yet."

"Oh. Thank you. Sorry for bothering you." She hasn't come home by 9 AM? I look over at the books I got from Miss Calendar. I should call Giles, he'll know what to do.

---Later---

"Oh Dear. And you say no one's seen her since?" I can hear him polish his glasses over the phone.

"No... Her dad doesn't know where she is. I was thinking we could try a tracking or scrying spell? Make sure she's okay?"

"Ummm, are you quite certain that they aren't merely... enjoying each other's company?"

"No, but I have a really bad feeling that something terrible has happened." That's me. Bad Feelings girl here.

"...Oh very well. I'll meet you at the library in half an hour?"

---Sunnydale High - Library---

"I see Amy. Everything is a little blurry. I think... is she laying on a stone floor. Can anyone tell if she's okay?"

The little Amy in the blurry image in the bowl of water suddenly flails about

"No, Jack!"

"Oh my god! What is he doing to her?"

"No fucking my mother!"

"Umm, Wills, I think she's just asleep."

"But why is she asleep alone on a stone floor!?"

I still have a really bad feeling about this.

---Rosenberg Residence - Willow's Room---

I hang up the phone. Amy still hasn't come home.

I cast the spell just like I watched Giles cast it.

I call Xander. "Xander! She's in the hospital!"

"What, Wills? How do you know Amy's in the hospital?"

"I cast the spell again, there's a nurse with her and she has one of those IV things in her arm."

Xander agrees to come meet me while I call Oz.

---Sunnydale Memorial Hospital---

"I'm sorry, we don't have any patients here by that name."

Amy is not at the Hospital. We checked. We checked each room in case they were wrong, or had the wrong name.

Even Oz looks worried. My boyfriend's face making expressions must mean my bad feeling is right.

---Rosenberg Residence - Willow's Room---

The little Amy in the bowl is still in bed.

There is no nurse tending her at the moment.

Maybe a tracking spell? I start paging through the books I got from Miss Calendar.

---Bellevu Residence---

Tracking spells are hard. You need a piece of the person you're tracking.

"Thank you Mr. Madison. I'll bring this back as soon as I can." I get back into the van. Oz drives us to the hospital while I get ready to cast the spell.

We follow the spell through town. Turning left and right to follow the pull of the hairs I got from Amy's hair brush.

"Ummm, Wills... that's Amy's house. Are you sure you cast the spell right?

"Yes, Xander, I'm sure. Look! It's not pointed at her house. It's pointed at her neighbors?"

I scramble out of the van with Xander and Oz. I wish Buffy were here. I get my cross out just in case her Jerky Vampire... friend? Is here.

Xander knocks on the door. There's no answer.

I tell Xander to, "Knock again!" He's about to when the door swings open.

Jerkface McVampire is standing there in the doorway. He looks at us, then stares at me and smacks his face with his palm. Hey! Why are you face-palming at me you Jerk?

"Oh! Of course! Willow! How much would an hour have cost me?" An hour..?

HEY! WHAT!? How Dare... "I AM NOT A HOOKER!" I shove my cross in his face!

...

He's holding my cross and laughing hysterically. He's not a vampire? He's a human jerk? "Sorry, that's not-"

He cuts of as I hear Amy shout from inside the house, "JACK! WHY THE FUCK AM I WEARING A FOLEY CATHETER!? DID YOU- OH MY GOD!"

The not-vampire Jerk, Jack apparently, yells back, "WHAT PART OF YOU WERE UNCONCIOUS FOR MORE THAN TWO DAYS DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WOMAN!?" He turns and walks away into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Did he say unconscious?"

"For two days?"

We all stare at each other for a moment. Then we all start knocking again.

 

[Aetheron]

---Bellevu Residence---

"Hey, you're awake. How're you feeling?"

"Uhhh… really weird. My arms tingle." Amy's confused face looks out the window where the sun is setting. "Ungh, did I seriously sleep all day?" She looks sheepish, "I can't believe I fell asleep on the job like that. What happened? Did you have to… carry… me… Jack how did we get here? The sun was up when I passed out."

I just smile and shake my head, "So… First off, you didn't fall asleep. We missed something, or something went wrong, or… well… you got cursed." I gesture to the window, "That, is Thursday saying goodnight. You were unconscious for over 2 days."

"Seriously? Oh my god. What Happened!?"

"You picked up a pocket watch. Then you did a marvelous Sleeping Beauty impression." I shrug after that, I haven't had a chance to look into the details of how it gets triggered yet. "I brought you back here, got you set up, and went to work finding a way to fix it."

"Okay. Uh… So… should I be concerned that I can't move my left arm?"

"You can't!? Oh! right. Sorry. I strapped that arm down to the bed so you wouldn't pull out your I.V." I shake my head and grin at her, "You're a violent little thing when you're sleepy. Oh, and the others seemed to have difficulty with fine motor control when they first woke up"

"Oh la de fucking da, you're a violent thing all the time." Huh… she doesn't usually swear like that. I mean, she swears but… generally, I'm the one demonstrating the versatility of the… word… FUCK! I really hope thats not a side effect of my spending most of the last day in her head. Amy's still going in spite of my suddenly concerned thoughts, "And… wait… others? What Oth-"

A loud series of knocks echo through the house. Is someone trying to break down the door?

"Hang on. I should go get that." At Amy's nod. I set off towards the front door, "Hey! Mrs. Bellevu! It's nap time. Go upstairs and rest until I come get you." She goes. Another knock comes from out front, "Hold your horses, I'm on my way damn it!"

Behind me I can hear Amy grumbling and struggling with her uncooperative arms while she tries to free herself from the bindings on her left arm. The last thing I hear clearly before rounding the corner is a confused, "Wait, why am I naked?" … why is she naked? I didn't do that. I shrug and open the door.

I find myself in an impromptu staring contest with the Scooby Gang minus Buffy. Xander looks to be paused mid swing on another round of knocks. They all look armed for undead bear and Willow in particular… looks… Oh. Oh I'm a duh. Of course, I could have call- I could have gotten Willow. She's an actual Witch, I bet she could have broken the curse in like an hour. I wonder how much that hour would have cost me?

Willow looks even more angry now. "I AM NOT A HOOKER!" No, of course you aren't. Now, Vamp you… wait, I must have wondered how much she costs out loud. Oops.

"Sorry, thats not-

"JACK!" Amy yells behind me. "WHY THE FUCK AM I WEARING A FOLEY CATHETER!? DID YOU- OH MY GOD!" Well, Amy still sounds a touch like me, but then again that seems like a perfectly… wait. The fuck? Where did she get a Foley Cath? Did D have one in her bag of supplies? Would that also explain why she's naked? I hope so.

I can hear Amy trying to get out of bed. Oh shit, that's a terrible plan. "WHAT PART OF YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS FOR MORE THAN TWO DAYS DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WOMAN." I stomp back towards the guest room, "Stop! No! Bad! No getting out bed. Fine motor control problems remember!?" Amy has pulled herself up into a sitting position and has the blanket clutched to her chest when I walk back in. "No! Bad Amy!" I shake my finger at her. "No trying to stand up until we know your legs work, I don't want you adding a gods damned concussion to your chart."

I'm in the midst of pushing Amy back down into bed while she glares at me and struggles feebly when the booming knock returns with friends. Oh yeah. I left the Scoobies on the porch. Fucking white hats that won't leave well enough alone. "I think we're about to have some company whether we want it or not. Can you stay still long enough to prove to them you're alive and well? Or do you really want to risk toppling over, while naked, in front of them?"

Amy stops struggling and redoubles her efforts at glaring a hole in my head, "Well I'm sorry if I find the plastic tube you shoved up my crotch uncomfortable!"

Amy does not appreciate my laughter, "I'm- I-" I struggle to regain use of my voice, "I didn't… I didn't do it. I wouldn't know how. I had a nurse do it." Amy fails to look appeased, but shoos me off towards the door.

With a deep breath, I pull the door open before they can batter it down. "Can I help you people? Or did my door do something to offend you?"

A loud and angry sounding burst of Willow-babble answers me. I think I heard Amy's name in there somewhere. Xander and Oz may have also said something buried under all of that.

I take a step back, keeping my hands at my sides, and smile at them, "Are you able to come in?" Oz blinked! I saw it! I got his face to show a reaction! No Take-backs! While I'm mentally celebrating Willow practically teleports past me and starts a game of Marco Polo with Amy. "Fucks sake, she's in there," I points towards the guest… towards Amy's room.

When Oz, Xander and I catch up, Willow is hugging Amy, who looks like it might be hurting her a tiny bit. I gather from the few words I manage to catch in her rapid fire barrage that they thought Amy was dead for some retarded reason.

I roll my eyes at Willows antics, studiously ignoring that until very recently I was also concerned about her health, and am still concerned about side effects. "As you can all see... she's not dead. We just had a nasty run in with a…" I think, no, Oz is definitely sniffing me. We are nipping this in the bud right now. "Can. I. Help. You?" I grab one of Mrs Bellevu's newspapers and roll it up. Actually whacking Oz with it might start a brawl though, so I simply point at him with it, "Bad Wolfy! No biscuit!" As I walk backwards away from him towards Amy's side of the room. Willows there too, but if it comes down to it, she's the one I most want to have in melee range.

Everyone is staring at me. Willow's babble cuts off with a "What?" perfect.

"Your pet werewolf has been sniffing my butt since he got here. Dude. I don't swing that way. What you three get up to at night is your own business, but I don't wan't to be your fourth."

Sex still seems to make Willow uncomfortable. Xander is unfazed, but thats expected given his reaction to Larry, and Oz is… Oz… so all I get for intelligible responses is a dual, "You know?" from the males of the group while Willow burns red again. In a few years her disapproval will probably be cause for concern, but for now I'm pretty sure I can rip her to pieces before anyone else knows we're having a fight. I'm going to need something silver to hit Oz with though. The pocket watch comes to mind.

"Wait, how is that a secret? He smells like a dog!"

And now Oz mentions…. come on… "You don't smell completely human either." Okay, Xander being the one to say it wasn't in the plan but it still works. No one has called me out for being a vampire yet, which I can probably thank Willow's cross and my new ring for. ... hang on... 'Completely?' Oh, game on!

"And let me guess, you saw your classmate out with some lowly halfbreed and just couldn't stand it? Am I right? You fucking purists are all the same." I admit, at least to myself, that I'm banking a lot on my undead body not giving off the usual scent markers that clue me in every time Amy tries to be sneaky. If I am, and if Oz can read them correctly, I might be starting a war that can't be won here. I'm sure I can take these three, but I don't know if I'd keep Amy afterwards, and I'm certain I'd have a cranky blond slayer after my blood. And thats ignoring that even if I somehow win I may have just inherited their upcoming apocalypses if I don't want the game to end.

Apparently they're willing to trip into the rabbit hole with me because Willow pitches me an indignantly squeaked, "Purists!?" Thank you, Alice. Soon we'll all be mad here.

"Yeah," I make a show of getting fidgety, "Fucking hell. If it's not the Scourge trying to kill us for not being pure enough of a demon, its you fucking hunters after us for not being purely human. Gods damn it. This town was supposed to be different."

"… wait… so you're…" Thank you, Willow, but lets not finish that sentence.

"A lowly halfbreed" I interrupt before they can actually define their question, snarling with anger I don't really feel. This is actually pretty fun. I can see why Dumbledore enjoyed lying with the truth so much in the Harry Potter books. I might have to do this more often.

"And you heard this town was supposed to be better?" the disbelief in Xander's voice is nearly tangible.

"Well yeah…" I pause, debating the merits of mentioning The Mayor. I hadn't planned on getting involved one way or the other in his shenanigans, and especially not now that I've been reminded I'm not actually immune to magic… just… uh… hmmm… more science required on that. Hmmm… I err on the side of caution, and blame his 'grandfather' for everything, pushing confusion into my tone and backing off the confrontationist routine a bit, "Wasn't the town's founder some kind of enthusiast? Cut some sort of deal with some of the bigger named demon types to make this a safe haven for…" I gesture vaguely in Oz's direction and then, if they make more an association between our positions than there really is that's on them, "He even put those tunnels and oversized sewers in all over the fucking place to help the vampires."

"Wait, really!?" Willow loves her some research project goodness.

"Yeah, didn't those maps you got for us make that pretty… clear…" Willows eyes just lit up too early... She was supposed to comment on the weird convenience factor of those tunnels and sewers. What other topic did she latch on to?

"The maps! Why did you need the maps? I've been meaning to ask you." …seriously?

"Seriously? Are you Californians raised with no sense of… How can you have a treasure hunt without a map!?"

"Treasure hunt?" all three of them ask. Okay, I was hoping to distract them from poking holes in my story with random historical facts about Sunnydale but I'll take the shiny object route too if it works. Especially since thats the first response I've gotten out of Xander that isn't hostile. I can work with th-

"Yes. Treasure Hunt. The treasure hunt where I was cursed. Remember me? The girl you all came to see before you all decided that hassling my friend was more important." Amy sounds the perfect amount of annoyed. I love Amy and her timing. I had totally forgotten she was there too, but she doesn't need to know that. Girls generally get upset when you forget about them. Amy keeps going, "The girl who really doesn't want this fucking foley catheter to stay in any fucking longer." She smiles that same smile your girlfriend uses when telling you everything is 'fine' and glares at us all. "SO! You all, are going to leave my friend alone. And you're going to leave. And then this plastic tube is coming out, and then you can all have story time with Jack. Kay!?" The degree of 'fine' that Amy is rises with each word. I sense that laughing would end poorly for all involved, but its a struggle as I watch the Scoobies start to look ashamed over forgetting about Amy. I remember father dealing with that feeling, it's unpleasant. As the Scoobies start to shuffle out, Amy turns to me, looking distinctly uncomfortable, "Sooo… how does it come out?"

I break down. I can't help it. I lose to the giggles "I I- have no idea. I didn't even know you had one in you until you asked."

"WHAT!?"

"Apparently…" I glance out towards the kitchen where there are ears, "My nurse friend thought you'd need one and put it in while I wasn't looking."

Amy, glaring at me hard enough that I'm surprised her magic hasn't set me on fire, "Let me guess, by friend, you really mean 'this nurse that you," She glares at the kitchen, "had sex with, right? Do you even remember her name?"

Apparently I take too long thinking about it because Willows head appears around the door frame about 2 seconds later, "You had sex with a girl and can't even remember her name? You Jerk! Mega Jerk!"

"Don't bother Willow, Jack never remembers the names of the girls he has sex with." Excuse me! I remember Emilia's name. I think it was Emilia… It was Emilia right? It's not like… the… OH! Amy's asking if I ate the nurse. I forgot about that euphemism. Heh. Yogurt. I nod slightly to Amy, and she sighs that put upon sigh of the teenaged girl.

I throw my arms in the air, "Okay! Everyone! You're all leaving, I'm going to the hospital to flirt with pretty nurses until I can find one that will take out Amy's Foley Catheter… " Amy looks 'fine' with this plan. "Or… I'm driving Amy to the hospital to have it removed immediately?" There we go. A genuine smile. "… Uhhh… can you walk with one of those in you? I'm actually asking. I don't know." Neither does Amy by the look on her face.

I look at the irate redhead still leaning in to glare at me from the kitchen, "Uhhh Willow… do you think you can work the dread machine and find out for us before we do anything permanently unpleasant to Amy?" I really ought to just pick up some Mohra blood. Actually, personally hunting down a Mohra demon seems easier that dealing with that blue e of doom.

 

[Aetheron]

---Bellevu Residence---

Be gone foul infestation. Shoo. Go away. Do not want! Oh gods why aren't you leaving faster.

...

Despite my best efforts to mentally hurry them out the door, the Scoobs remain perfectly happy to stand in the doorway and wait for Willow to finish hugging Amy goodbye. It's taking suspiciously long for her to let go. Willows little self discovery phase is next year right? I think I hear a, "I'm glad you're okay," mixed into the babble. I wonder if she's using magic subconsciously to speed up her vocal chords?

...Or maybe I just can't force myself to care about what she's saying enough to listen properly? Hmm... how would I test for the difference?

Oh! They're leaving! Thank the gods. Apparently I missed the conclusion of Hugfest '98 while pondering the merits of accidental magic. I close the door behind them with perhaps a touch more force than necessary and then lock the deadbolt for good measure. I hold up a finger when Amy starts to speak, "Your thoughts are important to us. Please Hold." I watch through the door's little window until the mystery machine drives off. I slump into a kitchen chair across from Amy. That was... exhausting. The closest comparison I can think of is dealing with an Apple Cultist's allegedly broken iPhone... "Okay, now that the boy with werewolf ears is gone, you were saying?"

Now that she's free from Willows attempts to crush her ribcage... and how exactly does suffocating the person you're trying to reassure yourself is okay work? I think I'll just choose to believe Willow wanted to cop a feel, it's a far more amusing train of thought. Amy's smirk fades to a glare briefly. I must have said some of that out loud?

"Anyway!" Amy rolls her eyes at me, "I was going to ask if you enjoyed yourself."

"Enjoyed myself? Were you not here for the past two hours? Or did Willow's hug cut off blood flow to your brain for so long that it's affecting your memory?" Amy's eye twitches at the reminder. I suddenly feel much better. I guess misery does enjoy company.

"I meant, that I'm fairly certain you... I mean, I was there, and I can't say that you ever lied to them... but..." Amy trails off and shrugs.

"But it painted a very different picture than what you remember actually happening?"

"Yeah. I noticed you never once mentioned the pocket watch. Apparently I just walked into the tomb then fell asleep."

"Gods, no. Of course I didn't. You were awake for Xander's Indiana Jones impression, right? Museum my ass. Sure, I'm pretty sure Xander was joking about that, but I think Willow actually wanted..." Deep calming breath Jack. "They actually wanted me to let fucking Ripper look over our loot. Right. Next thing we know half or more of our treasure is on its way to jolly old England where the peeping tom club will look after it. 'For our own good' of course," I add the air quotes as exaggeratedly as I can manage. "Of course," I snort, "Of course I didn't mention the one thing of indisputable value that we managed to find. Fuck, I only mentioned as much as I did because they were all still on the kitchen table during the discussion. Actually, now that we're on the topic, Willow was eyeing that... uh... coppery thingy..? something fierce. We may want to set that aside in the bribes- I mean 'gifts pile.' Just in case."

Amy looks down at the pile of trinkets on the table, "...You mean the hair clip?"

"That's a hair clip?" I refrain from commenting further on girl's and their strange hair decorations. Amy, being a girl, probably wouldn't understand. "Okay. Yeah. The hairclip. Sure." I pause momentarily, at a loss for where I was going with the conversation earlier. "...Oh. And don't you pretend you weren't doing the same thing, Miss 'I needed money to cover the costs of breaking a curse on my dad, but then I got cursed," I slump down in my chair, draping my arm over my forehead, "Oh woe is me! Pout! For I am gifted in the art of overacting." And wasn't that an unexpected development. Apparently Amy's dad's complete disinterest in her life is because of Amy's own magical accident a la Something Blue. Teenagers wanting their parents to leave them alone and let them live their lives can have amusing side effects when that desire is backed by magic. Actually, "you know, your dad being pretty tuned out isn't exactly terrible... For instance, he never tried to call the cell phone I gave you or mentioned it to the Scoobies. That would have been an awkward conversation." Especially since they'd be unable to hear my end of it. Come to think of it, I'm not actually sure how Amy managed to avoid having Willow "help" her with that...

"Jack... I am not just going to just leave a curse on my dad." Amy's doing that thing again, where she uses the 'this should be obvious' voice while saying something absurdly counterproductive. Eh, I can work her around later. Amy blows her hair out of face and glares at me when I roll my eyes."But anyway, now that they're gone. What actually happened? You never finished telling me beyond pocket watch and sleeping beauty."

"Oh, well, shortly after I figured out what had happened to you, I realized that I had no idea how to break a sleeping curse."

"Nightmare curse." Amy fidgets in her seat.

"Huh?"

"I think it was more like a weak Nightmare curse than a Sleeping curse. As in bad dreams, or just... uh... weird, I guess, in this case. Sleeping curses are more like dreamless comas." Amy looks more than a little uncomfortable, and mutters something about her mother under her breath.

"Ah, that explains a lot actually." Amy's confused face mixed with her worried face greets this statement so I elaborate, "Well, I tried the Disney and The Brothers Grimm methods of breaking a sleeping curse, but no dice. So I had to trial and error my way through the process of break-"

"Trial and error!? Jack! I don't want you trial and erroring my brain! I need that! Did you at least try to use the purging spell from my book before rooting around in my head?" Amy looks exasperated and alarmed.

"No shit, of course you don't. And yes, of course I tried... the... wait. Purging? I got 'cleansing ritual' when I was translating." Now I know they're similar words, so why does Amy look even more upset? Frightened even..?

"Jack... the cleansing ritual... please tell me you followed all the directions very carefully right?" Nervous Amy face.

"Yeah... Of course I did. It's not like I can replace you." Well, not easily.

"Okay, so, there isn't a pissed off god wanting to know why we failed to offer up a proper sacrifice?" Oh. Seriously? That's what this is about?

"No. Of course not, I checked, my sacrifice was perfectly valid." I did. I checked. Three times no less.

"Okay. Good." Amy looks confused again instead of scared, an improvement I think. "Uh... where did you get the sheep?"

"What sheep?" There was no mention of sheep anywhere. I'm not that bad at Latin. "It just said you had to sacrifice livestock, not specifically a sheep. Nowhere did it say I needed a sheep."

"Jack! You said you used an appropriate sacrifice. It needs to be livestock. You can't just a use a cat or a dog." Alarmed Amy face is back.

"Where the fuck would I get a cat or a dog? I used subject C. Asclepius just wasn't interested I guess." Not interested. Couldn't find me. Whatever.

"Asclepius? Why not Hec- ... subject... C...?" Amy's face is like a yo-yo today, "Jack, did you murder a per- Wait. C!? Did you murder three people trying to fix me?" Ooh, the upset pleased face, I've missed that one, it's my favorite Amy-face.

"Ye- well, actually no. I'm pretty sure Subject A actually died of a heart attack from the epinephrine D gave her, so I shouldn't really steal D's kill credit on that one. Subject B killed D before escaping, I should probably go after her now that you're feeling better, but I assume she's still alive out there, so I can't say I killed her either." The Sun set while the Scoobies were... visiting... so I won't even need to explain how I can leave the house anymore.

Amy doesn't seem to appreciate the detail work though, "Yeah, because only murdering one person to fix me makes it so much better." Well, she certainly looks less upset. Then again she didn't look all that upset to begin with really.

"Actually Subject C and her husband were Jehovah's witnesses, so I don't think I actually killed any people during the past few days." Apparently I'm getting lazy in my ripe old age of 1 month. "Hey, you don't think that's why the ritual didn't work do you?"

"No Jack, I'm pretty sure Jehovah's witnesses count as humans for sacrifices." That sounded sarcastic to you too right?

"Oh, well that's good." Amy doesn't seem to agree if the way she's massaging her temples is any way to judge.

"Okay. So... to recap. You tried the Disney and Grimm methods, and when that didn't work four people died and one escaped during your- wait. Disney and Grimm methods!? Jack! Doesn't she wakes up in during CHILDBIRTH in the Grimm version?"

"Yeah. That was such a pain in the ass to simulate, let me tell you. But since kissing you didn't do anything, I figured it was worth a shot. In the end all it accomplished was cracking Subject C's pelvic bone. Made a mess of the bowling ball too. But, like I said no dice, She didn't wake up."

Amy looks horrified, shouting "Oh my God!" as she sprints towards the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. That's weird... She did that when the Polgara demon went after her too.

"Aren't you a devotee of Hecate? Why do you say God instead of Goddess when you're freaked out?"

Amy's answer is a retching noise from the bathroom. I guess she doesn't like pregnancy? Ah well... I think I'm hungry.

"Amy, I'm going out for Chinese. Do you want any?"

---Bellevu Residence---

I flop down onto the couch next to Amy, "Hey, Star Trek! Awesome..." Hmmm... Seven of Nine is probably in Los Angeles right now. I could... Oh Joygasm! I appear to have inherited father's adolescent crushes. At least puberty isn't a thing I need to worry about since I don't age any... Or am I permanently stuck at 18 now? That would actually exp- "Hey! You said you didn't want any." Taking advantage of my distracted thoughts, Amy steals another one of my Crab Rangoon, I swat at her hand as she goes for yet another. Looking down at my to go box, she's clearly eaten three already. Damn it.

"I figured you were going to eat the waitress, or bring me home some college girl if I said yes. " Okay, that does sound like something I'd do. I dodge another swipe for my precious goons, "Oh come on. Can you even eat those?" Amy whines.

...

Uh, I think so? They taste ... William ate those buffalo wings. Then again I have no idea if he had to puke them up again later. That would suck and- "Okay, fine, you can have some of the goons." It'd be rather pointless to protest now since Amy managed to snag the entire box of them while I was distracted, once again, by the oddities of the vampiric digestive system. I glare at Amy in vague protest of her heinous crime but I should probably make sure vampires can eat normal food before gorging myself on goons. I can probably have a few, but the rest can be Amy's.

"Jack, who's that?"

"Uh... I think her name is Jerri Ryan? With an I? I think." I should probably pay attention to the credits if I want to go looking for her in a city the size of LA. Ouch! I'm apparently being rescued from father's libido by mother's pre-programmed demands that I not leave Sunnydale unnecessarily. I really need to look into fixing that.

"No Jack, not the chick on TV with the nice rack, the girl that just fucking walked by carrying our treasure." Amy is up on her knees glaring backwards off the couch looking upset. Not upset enough to stop munching on what used to be my goons though. And apparently she's still swearing like I do occasionally.

Voyager cuts to commercial and I follow Amy's gaze, "Oh, that's... uh... she was my waitress tonight."

"Why is she here? What is she doing?"

"I wanted takeout." I shrug.

Amy just stares at me blankly. "The treasure Jack. She is touching our treasure. Why is she doing that?"

"Oh, I figured she could play human minesweeper for our loot so any additional curses don't catch us off guard." I Shrug.

"Oh... Okay..." She swivels back around and resumes staring at cyborg boobs with me.

I go to have one, but there are no Crab Rangoon left. I glare at Amy. "What?" oh, don't give me that, you know what you did.

In the garage, my loot testing system starts screaming. It sounds painful, "Oh hey! We found another item for the cursed pile."

 

[Aetheron]

---Bellevu Residence---

Fully cataloguing our loot wound up taking 3 full nights, but surprisingly, only two minesweepers. Apparently the gold coin that caused the waitress's blood to spontaneously boil off was atypical. I had the jogger that replaced her use oven tongs to place that coin in a jewelry box and then duct tape it shut before we continued with the process. Even I'm leery of getting near that thing.

I'm still convinced that said coin was Saint Murphy's way of rapping me on the knuckles for thinking, "I can always drink her blood later," out loud. I really should have known better. Such a waste of blood.

Finally, looking over the presumably non-cursed items, "Uh, So... Amy... how do you want to do this?"

Fortunately the idea of casting detect magic on our treasure horde seems to fill Amy with far more excitement than it does me. I leave her to it while I dispose of our minesweeper. Hmmm... unlike fear, intense boredom does not appear to flavor blood in any meaningful way. I guess that bodes well for the future.

With Amy happily occupied, I slip off my shoes and stick the ring around the largest toe it'll fit around. Fuck! Damn it! Crosses fucking burn.

Sighing, I slip the ring back onto my finger and pick up the cross to put it away, "OW! Holy fucking! WHAT THE SHIT!?"

Amy leans in from the garage, "JACK!? Are you okay?"

"... Yeah... I just burnt myself a little."

"Oh..." I glare at her while she giggles mockingly at my 'misfortune.'

Once she goes back to her work, I stare at the ring that is obviously on my index... I move it back to my ring finger and tap the cross. No pain. "Seriously? Fucking Magic."

...

Is there such a thing as a ring toe? I sigh. "This is going to hurt."

---The Gallery---

Having finally put Amy to bed despite her treasure induced excitement, I stroll into The Gallery. Oddly generic name.

"Good morning," I greet the woman at the front desk cheerfully. "Is Ms. Summers in today? Or... do I need to schedule an appointment?"

The secretary looks at me suspiciously. Dressed up in the nice clothes I had Amy buy for me yesterday, I manage to pull off something slightly more professional looking than very nearly eighteen year old body I'm stuck in. The secretary even manages to summon up something approximating an interested tone, "What are you here regarding?"

"Oh, I was hoping to... err... well, I don't suppose you could confirm something for me. I'm told the Gallery can handle organizing auctions, sales, and things of the like?" I'm probably overdoing the cheerful, but it's the only way I can counter the irritating effects of the Sun. Overly enthusiastic teen or angry delinquent? In an art gallery? No contest. At least the ring seems to lessen their effects, I'm really only cranky right around noon.

The secretary doesn't seem overly impressed with my enthusiasm, "I can pencil you in for 2pm, Mr..?"

"Oh! Sorry, Winters. Jack Winters." Again, as with any time I use 'my' last name, I'm struck by the oddity of having been assigned a name in direct opposition to the Slayer's own surname.

"And what are you looking to auction off did you say?" If she were chewing gum, I'd expect her to blow a bubble and pop it loudly while saying it.

"Oh, odds and ends mostly. Jewelry, artwork, some old coins. I can't read the lettering on them so I'm not sure what kind. Mostly gold and silver stuff though. The art pieces are what brought me here though, a bunch of weird looking paintings and sculptures."

Cranky secretary lady finally blinks at that. "Do you know who the artists were?" Maybe she thought I was just some kid wasting her time trying to auction of their homemade crap?

"...no, I'm not actually sure how to tell either." I shrug helplessly, "This probably isn't the ideal place for it, but the CPS folks dumped me here with my grandmother's friend while my emancipation paperwork cleared." I fiddle with the stylized sun necklace I picked up so Amy could have something 'new' to associate with my suddenly daytime oriented behaviors. Wearing a necklace feels even weirder than wearing a ring. Granted, looking uncomfortable during the daytime, and especially around midday, is far too easy. The secretary doesn't look terribly comfortable at my implications either, she starts adding an appointment to her ledger while smiling awkwardly.

---The Bronze---

Amy grips my sleeve as though sensing my thoughts of escape. "Come on Jack. It'll be fun!"

"Fun she says" I continue to grumble and drag my feet halfheartedly while Amy drags me towards The Bronze, "What part of you wanting to go dancing requires my presence?"

"The part where vampires frequently show up here at The Bronze? The part when I don't want to be eaten? The part where WE are celebrating our first sale? Eight Thousand Dollars Jack. Eight Thousand!"

Okay, I do have to admit, that part is pretty fucking nice. And I have been meaning to pick up a fledge for testing purposes ever since I got the ring. I glare at the ring for the umpteenth time. Stupid rules lawyering magic. Who does it possibly help for a magical ring to only work if you wear it on the ring finger of your off hand? What kind of fucking sense does that make?

Okay, apparently this is happening. I'm in a dance club. The music is a louder version of... Oz. And there's Xander and Willow at a table near the stage. I'll just... stay over here on the far side of the bar. Hmmm... without father's self-conscious issues this isn't terrible. Dingoes Ate My Baby aren't exactly my favorite kind of music, but I find myself bobbing along to the tune. Hmmm... 'my kind of music' is mostly by bands that probably don't exist yet, assuming I inherited father's taste in music... I can't really remember what he used to listen to in the late nineties. Maybe I can catch one of the bands that broke up before father found out about them in concert?

I can definitely see why the locals like this place. Plenty of food to go around, and everyone is more than a little distracted by the music and the pretty girls dancing. Lovely little feeding ground. Amy looks absolutely fucking delicious in her new dress. An observation I do not appear to be alone in making. I do believe I've found a volunteer.

Amy catches my eye on the dance floor and nods her head towards the fledge that's been... attempting to flirt with her. I nod back and smile. Sure, he'll do.

---Behind The Bronze---

After watching Amy pretend to flirt with the fledge for half an hour, I find tazing him in the back after they leave the bronze together even more satisfying than usual.

"Jack! What the hell!?" Oh, a bonus! Amy seems to finally be drifting back towards her own swearing tendencies instead of using mine.

"What do you mean? You bring the idiot fledge out of the club, I taze him. That was the plan right?

"...he's a vampire!?" Amy hisses at me. "I thought you said he was okay!?"

"Okay? What? What are you talking about?"

"I nodded at him and you smiled, I thought that meant he was safe..." We stare at each other in confusion.

"...Apparently we need to coordinate our signals better. I meant he'd make a valid subject for a test I want to run. I thought that's... why... huh. Why did you bring him out here?"

Bright red embarrassed Amy-face, "I uh... thought that we could make out or... I don't know."

...

I am, it turns out, no more okay with that than I was the idea of a fledge eating her. Mine. I mean, "seriously, this guy? Really? If you want a fucking chew-toy I'll thrall you up a co-ed or something, but you can do better than... that..." I nudge the moronic looking fledge with my foot. I mean, I know she had that crush on Larry but really?

Amy sighs while dragging her hands down her face, "No Jack, I do not want you to 'thrall me up a co-ed' I'm well aware that you'd bring me home a girl. I'm not a... I don't... so not the important part right now..." she trails off. Amy's thinking face makes an appearance. "Jack... you don't mean... do you..." Amy starts waving her arms back and forth in front of her, hands up in the stop position. "NOPE! Not asking that. I don't want to know." She turns and walks away, getting into the truck, hands over her ears and mumbling repeatedly, "nahnahnah nah nahnah I'm not listening"

"Awww... she's learning. How sad." I toss my prize in the back of the truck and we head home.

---Bellevu Residence---

Ring goes on the other ring finger of the strapped down fledge? The cross stops sizzling on his chest. Magic is active, check! I guess he's a lefty.

Removing his other arm, I watch in gleeful fascination as a new arm starts to grow out of the stump. Removing the ring halts the re-growth completely. Sad. I won't be able to re-grow limbs without the ring. Good to know for sure though. Replacing the ring restarts the regeneration process, which is fortunate. Hmmm... This does however leave me holding the old limb which now seems to serve no pur-... I remove the ring and then re-remove the re-grown bits of arm. I line the old limb up to the stump. Placing the ring on his finger causes the stump and arm to merge back into one being. That is awesome! I can have a whole collection of spare parts with this... or not. I watch the partially re-grown arm crumble to dust when the ring finishes reattaching the original limb. Gods Damn It.

I force feed the subject a pint of warm lemonade when the regeneration begins to slow and it picks back up again. Okay, so it still works off of blood, makes sense I suppose. I did think I felt a slight drain while standing in sunshine.

Staking works as expected, the wound closing up just like William's did on TV. Excellent. Neither repeated nor larger bore stakes appear to deviate from this pattern. Awesome.

Now, where did I put that blow torch? Ah, yes. Huh, subject still seems to catch fire, but doesn't appear to die from it. Extinguishing the flame is unusually difficult. I guess that's better than immediately reducing to ash. The burn scars heal like the arm regenerated too, that's useful. Ring does not appear to use Troll logic- Well, other than in determining what counts as wearing it correctly that is.

Decapitation? Awww. Damn it. That sucks. I snatch up the ring quickly before he finishes dusting, just in case. I should probably avoid Balthazar's sword fetishist cult.

I start climbing the stairs up from the basement. "Amy! We need to go dancing again..."

I wonder how long it will take for Amy to develop a reputation among the local vamps if the ones that drag her off into alleyways are never seen or heard from again? Then again they never seemed to pick up on Buffy being death on legs so who knows. The universe and stupidity after all. Or should I say multiverse now?

---The Gallery - Joyce's Office---

Joyce looks horrified, "And they sent you to Sunnydale?"

"Yeah, my grandmother's friend is letting me crash on her couch while all my paperwork processes. I'm hoping to sell off some of these things so I can square away a place of my own, and get out from under her feet." I gesture at the collection of non-magical art-like loot I brought with me... wow must be a few weeks ago now, where it hangs on the walls making up Lot 13. I'm repeating the story I told Willow and Co. for what must also now be the umpteenth time. Fortunately, It's not like they could get Mrs. Bellevu to deny it. Watching Joyce struggle with how to tell the 'nice orphan boy' that he ought to be careful at night in his new hometown is a nice bonus. Hell, anything that gets her to stop looking so gods damned sad about Buffy running away is a nice bonus. Expressions, they should have variety. "Speaking of, you said we got an offer on one of the paintings?"

"Oh. Yes. Three of them." She pulls out a folder full of some manner of paperwork and starts skimming over it. "We have bids on record for... 13-B, C and E for Fifty Thousand."

"... did you just say fifty grand?" Amy may have a heart attack.

"Yes. Each." She starts handing me paperwork to sign. Whoa... that's a lot of money for what I wouldn't call terribly impressive paintings.

"People are willing to shell out fifty grand a piece for... Uh... whatever those are?" I finish signing off on the sale.

"Oh yes, our Mayor is quite the collector. He seemed quite excited about them, apparently they're missing pieces from a set he's collecting"

Wait... "Mayor Wilkins just bought all three paintings?" I stare at the paperwork Joyce is happily filing... this can't possibly bode well.

 

[Aetheron]

*** POV: Eris (Emilia) ***

---

---An Ethereal Boardroom---

I slump in my seat, mentally composing the next verse of the I am bored song. Stupid goddesses of Order.

I shouldn't have bothered Concordia. Yes, I see you over there looking all attentive and stuck up and ... damn it, I can't even enjoy insulting Concordia. I'm trapped in this meeting with the Elder Powers, while they drone on and on and on and on about how terrible it is that some ancient treaty was violated. Oh, Me, I don't care! Why won't it end!? Why does my brother Ares have all the luck? Sitting next to Bacchus over there, he's clearly halfway to a drunken stupor. Share the wealth damn it. I must remember to claim that seat next meeting. I almost cry at the realization that there will, of course, be a next meeting.

...And that bitch Hecate has been smirking at me this entire time. What does she have to be so smug about? Look at me! I have three bodies but can somehow magically still sit in this one chair! I'm so fucking magical! Wow, these meetings make me bitchier than those menstrual cycles mortal women have to put up with. Clearly I should avoid them in the future for... health reasons... yeah, that's it.

"Does anyone have anything to report?" Oh thank us, that's what they ask right before everyone says no and the meeting breaks up for a while.

"Actually... I might." Wait what? Who... Asclepius? Speaking of health reasons, what could you possibly have to report? "A sacrifice was offered in my name this week. What's more, the call was sent out by the sacrifice of a human woman. Not a virgin, but I haven't received a human sacrifice in ages. I'm not trying to gloat here, normally I wouldn't even mention it, but... when I attempted to investigate, instead of finding a drunken fraternity boy attempting to rid himself of a hangover... I found nothing. I couldn't follow the call at all. It was as if the petitioner didn't exist. Is it possible that whatever force is hiding our missing soul is attempting to taunt us?" Asclepius looks thoughtful, "Are we actually certain that he was taken by the forces of the Wolf, Ram and Hart?" No, we aren't. I should know, I'm the one who made that idea up as a distraction. If I had known it would make this latest in a rash of eternal meetings go even longer I wouldn't have opened my mouth. And what in Hades is Jack doing calling on other gods. Bad Minion!

Hecate somehow manages to look even more smug and grins at me. What is she up to? "Have we considered that we may not be going about this the right way?" Well, this can't be good. "We've all been searching for a missing or stolen soul yes?" Nodding all around the table. Hecate, what are you doing? "But this soul managed, in a scant ten minutes no less, to throw this world's fate into chaos before dying. Shouldn't we perhaps try looking for other worlds that have taken a sharp turn towards chaos?" Oh. That's fine. Yes, please go waste time staring at other worlds while my new minion runs free. Hecate, I take back- no. You're still a smug bitch.

"Damn it," The Elder Power I've dubbed Boringus Maximus the Leftmostus bangs his fist on the table. "We are running out of time to fix this. Hecate's plan is sound, we shall all begin searching at once." He attempts to glare menacingly at everyone. Meeting adjourned? Meeting is adjourned! I race out of the room.

...

What did he mean running out of time? I almost worry, but then I remember that I don't care about what he wants.

---Nowhere in Particular---

"Hello Eris."

"What do you want Hecate?"

"Come now dear, there's no need to be rude. I simply wanted to tell you about the simply fascinating thing I saw while looking in on one of my favorite devotees." And her smug grin is back in place. How is it fair that Hecate of all people has managed to continue to have proper worshippers in this stupid modern age?

"Oh? And what was that?"

"Well, imagine my surprise when I looked in on one of the witches invoking my power and found her talking to herself? I feared briefly that she had gone mad, but then it seemed that something was there. I simply couldn't perceive it directly in any way shape or form. Like staring at a pond, I could see a splash, and trace the ripples, but find no rock. Simply... fascinating... wouldn't you agree?"

I sigh. "What do you want Hecate?"

"To play of course. You have your... mortal, of a sort at least, and now I have mine. It's been so long since we've had a proper wager." Well, okay then. Maybe she's not so bad.

"... you know what happened to his soul don't you?" I must admit I'm curious.

"Of course I do. But that would be telling." Oh how I hate you Hecate.

But still, she's not wrong. "Fine. Be that way, but what shall we wager?"

---???---

I clap my hands together gleefully. This will be a marvelous game. Even if it is with ever so smug Hecate.

Hmmm, I should check in on Jack. Given that my bet now relies on him being more entertaining than Hecate's... whatever a composite soul is. Losing simply won't do.

I follow the tracer I left for myself in his blood and... "Who in Hades is this woman?" I'm in a wooded field, staring at a half naked woman who is very obviously not Jack. I really hope she isn't at least. As entertaining as accidentally changing gender might count for in our game, she's growling at me like an animal. Mind wiping Jack would really- No, she still seems to have a human soul, so she can't be Jack. Hmmm... "Why do you have a giant letter B drawn on your chest? Is that one of those sports thing you mortals do occasionally?"

Instead of answering me, the woman lunges at my face. I roll my eyes and cave in her skull with a backhand. "Well, this... is awkward."

Taking stock of my earthly position, I set off towards the lights of what passes for civilization among mortals. How hard can it be to find a vampire in Sunnydale?

 

[Smurfpapa]

Welcome to QQ, I'm sure we will corrupt you enough to post in the nsfw section soon. I remember liking this fic before I permanently left SB so looking forward to more.

 

[RichardWhereat]

Thank fuck. I much prefer this site to that one.

 

[Hyperionthetitan]

Oh hey you are here!

 

[Aetheron]

Welcome to QQ, I'm sure we will corrupt you enough to post in the nsfw section soon. I remember liking this fic before I permanently left SB so looking forward to more.

Click to shrink...

I uh... I actually started in the NSFW section, though Snippets, Oneshots, and Plot Bunnies thread in is like... 50/50 by volume.

Thank fuck. I much prefer this site to that one.

Click to shrink...

A lot of people seem to have strong opinions on the topic. I'm honestly pretty ambivalent on it.

Or at least I spend equal amounts of time being angry at SpaceBattles for not being QQ as I do QQ for not being Spacebattles and about as much time as both of those wanting to smoosh them together into a giant mishmash.
But that's entirely due to the little differences between the versions of Xenforo the sites are running on leaving me liking some things from here and some options from there.
But mostly I just dislike how sometimes when I copy paste something from one site to the other some random part get mangled because the BB codes don't match perfectly or whatever.

Then again, I started Blood and Chaos back before Threadmarks so... as long as we never go back to those days I guess I can deal.

Oh hey you are here!

Click to shrink...

Yes! I am me, and I am here, and... Squirrel!

 

[Drkonecharlie]

Well on the up side jack doesn't have to worry about subject B anymore

 

[Aetheron]

---Bellevu Residence---

"You want me to enchant your necklace... but you don't need it to do anything in particular, you just want it enchanted so it registers as magical?"

"Yes. Although ideally it'd look like a protective enchantment. I'd settle for Nystul's Aura though"

"Nystuls? ...What? ...Why?" Because The Mayor pays far more attention to details than the Scoobies do? Because I'd really rather my ring not be the first casualty of a daytime fight? Because rule 29? Because lots of things really.

"Ah, well, that actually brings me to my next point. I also need you to make my ring not look magical. Again, ideally it'd be a full on Nondetection and properly invisible as well, but I'd settle for a Nystul's making it just seem non-magical."

"Jack... remember how we talked about using D&D spells? How it doesn't actually work that way?" Aha! I notice you no longer claim to have no idea what I'm talking about! Victory!

"Yes Amy. I remember. But it's still what I want, and it's not like we can't buy you all the magical books you could possibly need now. Well, any that are in regular print. There must be something similar." I mean, I've got the tattoos to prove it... they've just proven less than reliable at melee range. Sadly, that is also the range at which I become concerned about my ring being... separated from my person. Violently.

Amy's doing that massaging her temples thing again, "Why Jack? Why do you need a pretend magic necklace and an invisibility ring?"

"Oh, well, when someone eventually notices that I'm both a Vampire and regularly out and about during the day I'd much rather they assume it's because of my fancy necklace than because I'm some sort of science experiment waiting to happen."

Amy's hands come to a dead stop. "Out... about... day..?" She looks at me, doing that almost fish face humans do when they're trying to say multiple things at once and it all comes out strangled together. "What..? How...? Jack! Oh my God! You! ... You're... You're..." She trails off. Now she's just glaring at me. Her mouth moves periodically, but she seems to be having difficulty speaking again. "What… How..?" This again?

"Can I buy a noun or a verb here Amy? I'm not psychic… err, not reliably anyway." I've been practicing, but pulling people's thoughts out of their heads seems to be much harder than putting my own into them. That... seems really backwards to me.

"Sun. Jack. You are standing in the sunlight." Oh. I guess it moved while I was reading the classifieds. Wow, I really am getting acclimated to it. That's kind of depressing. Feels like conduct unbecoming of a proper vampire.

"Yes..? I am?" Let's not make a big deal of this. Not making a big deal out of this is kind of the whole point here. "It's not like this is news, I mean- don't get me wrong, Apollo is a complete douche canoe but he's still capable to making deals." I'm about to comment on the deal being that I wear my ring and he glares at me impotently when something occurs to me... "Wait, how did you think I was making it to the gallery to sell our loot?" Why yes, I am just going to ignore that I always waited for you to be asleep before doing that.

Amy seems far less enthused about my new found daytime freedom than I had hoped. I think her eye is twitching while she stares at me."Have you… Do you… Are- Three weeks!?… Jack! What the hell!?" Why is she angry? This is excellent news. I don't want to have eat my favorite minion. Particularly so soon after promoting her to trusted Lieutenant. What kind of message does that send? She balls up her fists. "I… Could… Have… Been… Sleeping… At… Night!?" Oh. That? Oops..?

"Well yeah, I suppose… if you wanted. Do you not like sleeping during the day?" Her eye is definitely twitching now.

"AWRRGLE!" Amy spins on her heal and stomps out the door. I shrug. She'll come around, she never holds onto the little things. Back to work. I grab the paper and resume circling real estate entries in the classifieds.

Damn, none of these houses are quite right, even at the ridiculously low Sunnydale prices. Putting up with regular visits from the Scoobies is getting fucking old. At least Willow and Xander dropped the 'half what' nonsense when I feigned awkwardness and told them Mother never said. I really should look into demonology and pick a thing to pretend to be. Then there's fucking Oz. He never says anything, but he keeps smelling me and giving me weird looks. It is really hard to distract a guy who never really talks and who's primary interest is a topic I know nothing about. Not, at least, without bringing up bands that don't exist yet like some sort of fucking uberhipster... I really need a new address.

…

Damn. I forgot to have Amy call the realtor back.

"Amy! Wait up!"

---Sunnydale : Later---

"Now, this next one is a bit above the price range you said you were looking at, but I think that if you made a solid cash offer you could get them to take it. The price came down again recently, and I think the owners are really looking to sell." Hmmm… Real Estate Agent Lady… her name started with a J right? Jane? Jean? Joy? Whatever, Agent J it is. She sounds like she's hedging. What is she hiding?

Behind us, Amy takes a short break from her now... three hour? long attempt at glaring a hole in the back of my head to ask, "Is there a reason no one's been interested?" She doesn't seem to appreciate the fit of giggles I burst into in the middle of her question, but I couldn't help it. We'd just rounded the corner and I caught my first glimpse of the house. It's the frat house those snake worshiping Delta Zeta Kappas were living in. Oh, I think I want this one. I wave Agent J on as I fight to control myself. I'm curious how she'll try to spin that.

Agent J appears to appreciate the enormity of that task. She takes a deep breath in and carefully hedges, "There was a scandal involving the previous owners. The fraternity that lived there was… ah… found responsible… for... a number of deaths that occurred in the basement." She sounds so resigned. She sighs. "So we'll skip it?" She smiles that awkward smile that service people use when they're told they have to look happy all the fucking time.

"Pfft, I never understood the superstition surrounding houses like that." I wave her off, "There's no such thing as ghosts. It'll be fine. Let's go take a look. If the people in this town want to believe in things that go bump in the night that's their problem." Amy seems split between amusement and exasperation briefly before remembering that she thinks she's mad at me. Women…

Agent J looks delighted, and smiles brilliantly. I think this is the first smile she's actually meant, "Well alright then. I'll give you the full tour."

Amy pulls me aside by the arm as we get out of the car, whispering insistently, "Jack. You're sure that nothing… you know…happened here? Or lives here?" She sounds nervous.

I laugh, whispering back, "Lived here Amy, past tense. Snake demon. The idiots tried to sacrifice a slayer to it." I roll my eyes, and huff "Buffy probably had a blast, hacking it into tiny little bits."

"… her name you remember?" Damn, she seems annoyed again. No, not annoyed exactly... That's the face I thought she reserved for Willow? I mean I guess she did make the alternate list higher than Amy in that cheer-leading episode… But seriously?

"Well yeah, she's boinking my Grandfather. Mother insisted I learn my family history. Well, that and it's the most ridiculous name I've ever heard. What was Joyce thinking!?" Amy grins at me for the first time today and we head off after Agent J. Apparently Buffy gossip buys forgiveness from Amy. Who knew?

---Former Delta Zeta Kappa House---

That tune from SimCity that father would hum to himself occasionally ever since he first played at the age of seven is playing full blast in my head as I look around. This is perfect. I could knock down this wall and expand the study area into a small library. Ditto the rooms on the opposite side of the... Atrium? Courtyard? The big open area in the middle... to put in a combat training area. Amy is… I think she's still staring wide eyed at the bathroom attached to one of the room's I told her could be hers. Gods, supernaturally wealthy frat boys did not spare expenses. It's too bad I doubt they sprang for necro-tempered glass in the… uh… screw, I'm calling it the Atrium. That way I could have Mother and William over during the day. Also not being trapped by my own house if I lose the ring might be nice. "So, how much is this place? You said we could probably get an even better deal if we made a cash offer, but you never actually mentioned any numbers."

"They could probably be convinced to let it go for around 200." Oh. Hmmmm… 'a bit above my price range' is apparently double what I said I was looking for. That's more than I have on hand… Then again… we've only managed to sell off a third of the loot so far, so it's not like we'd be broke permanently. And this house really should be worth a ton more than that. Sunnydale's housing market is absurd, but this... this is something else. It actually seems almost too perfect, I must be missing something. "You said this place has been on the market for almost a year now? Is it really superstitious nonsense thats been keeping it from selling?"

Agent J is hedging again, I give her a little mental nudge. "I think it's mostly the basement. There's been some difficulties getting a work crew to finish sealing off a tunnel that connects to some underground caves after the first team went missing." Wow, even with me pushing her she's still able to use euphemisms. That's kind of impressive. Also, very much not a problem to me. I'll just have to add... a... reinforced steel door to the renovations list. Controlled access to the tunnel network sounds fantastic.

"Amy! We're going to have to use your share too!"

"That's fine!" comes the answering shout from, surprise surprise, not the bathroom. What is she doing way over there? Eh… Probably playing architect just like I am. Amy finally surfaces with a wide grin.

"It looks like we'll take it."

"Oh, that is so good to hear. And don't worry about those cages in the basement, we can have them out of here by the end of the week." No. My Cages! MINE!

"Please don't. Good steel like that is damned hard to find." She's eyeing me funny, and Amy is making that face she makes when she walks in on my science projects. Oh! that probably sounded strange… uh… "Hey, weird art is paying for this house. I like the idea of making weird art out of the extra bits and pieces of it."

"Oh... You're an artist?" Amy is walking away obviously trying not to laugh at the idea. She has a point I suppose, father did like to say he had all the artistic talent of a drunken elephant. Of course then we found out that elephants could paint. They paint modern art, but still, it's not like the art critics could tell the difference.

"Amateur. But I like to think so. Then again, it is paying for this house, so maybe I can't really claim amateur status anymore?" I am making great strides in the delicate art of Thrall. It's sad that I don't seem to have the same raw power or knack, talents, whatever it is, for any of the other magical disciplines. I mean, I can totally set you on fire with my mind, but only if you agree to hold still for five minutes while I mumble angry sounding chants at you. Anyone willing to do that deserves their immolation.

---Sunnydale Memorial Hospital---

I've got a brand new fridge to stock, Doo Dah, Doo Dah.

1. 2. 3… Toss the baseball up, let it activate the hospital door's motion sensor while outside of my 'possession' and… stride through before it closes.

I've got a brand new fridge to stock, Doo Dah, Doo Dah.

Wave to the nurses' station while heading towards the back rooms where the doctors get changed into their scrubs.

I've got a brand new fridge to stock, Doo Dah Doo Dah Day.

Wave to Amy running down the hallway, Order a doctor to 'badge us into the locker room.'

…

Wait? Wave to Amy? Didn't she say she was going to the beach with her Dad and his new girlfriend today?

I turn back around and Amy slugs me in the face. I pin her to the wall and glare… at… this… isn't… Amy. Weirdly close though, in a not really at all sort of way now that I can see her up close… and she seems very determined to try and kick me. 'STOP IT!'

…

The fuck? I'm getting better at melting the ice in the cup before trying the straw, so to speak… but it's like my commands just leaked out her ears. Hmmm… what is going on in your little brain?

Eeesh. Sorry I asked. This is… wow, and I thought I made a mess. This is like someone unplugging all the cables from a switch and then only bothering to plug half of them back in. Utterly at random too. I'm amazed you have enough das blinken lights to get out of bed. Huh, I wonder…

The red cable goes into the red port. That makes sense. Or it does if I ignore that there's nothing actually red involved. Okay… let's see… I think this one goes over here… OH! She stopped trying to kick me. No, wait- she just went limp in my arms. Okay maybe that one goes over here instead? Yes! We have muscle control back online. This is awesome, usually people try and force me out of their head when I start messing around like this. I think it must be some sort of reflex. You're a broken little thing around you? Yes you are… Okay, blueish yet not blue at all… aha! Let's shove it over there with the others!

"Ummm… excuse me? Sir? Thank you for stopping her. We can take her from here." Awww, the pompous jackass from the psychiatry department has arrived, orderlies in tow. I'm not done yet! Go away! Take a lap around the hospital and then come back for my patient?

They never listen to me when I think at them like that. The universe would be so much better if they did. Fine… "Oh, okay." I shrug and let go, "Bye Sandra." I wave.

"… B-B-Bye." She seems to have a stutter now. I wonder which psuedo-wire caused that? Come to think of it, I wonder how much of that experience was shaped by my mind. Would Mother see a bunch of unruly dollies having a chaotic tea party? Magic's done weirder.

Hmmm… everyone is staring at me. I guess I'll need to put off my blood run for another shift. Damn. Backing away slowly, I start making my way out of the hospital.

Well, what do I do with my day now? Hmmm… I am running out of room in the basement at the mansion for dumping bodies. I guess I could take another crack at a more permanent disposal method. It's just so conveniently anonymous leaving them there though. Although... While the mental image of Buffy going to chain up Grandfather and finding it completely full of dead people is hilarious, it'd probably put her on the warpath. Damn, Buffy has it easy, her kills poof into ash.

That's it! I'm bumping testing if I can drink blood from other vampires up to the top of the to do list.

Hmmm... It seems kind of weird that I don't recall ever seeing them do it on the show, except maybe Harmony and William down in that crypt?

Yeah… cannibalism testing sounds like a fantastic project to have someone else play guinea pig for. Then again, it's Harmony, she was probably just calling attention to her admittedly very nice boobs. Eh, better safe than sorry. Winding up like Harmony is not exactly a goal anyone should aspire to.

As the door starts to close behind me I hear one of the nurses ask, "Has Sandra ever spoken before?" Oh! I was right about her name! Ten Points to Slytherin for successfully pulling a name out of someone's head! ...Slytherin!? Where did that come from?

 

[Aetheron]

---Winters Residence - Atrium---

I'm sifting through the latest ream of paperwork the lawyers sent over when Amy comes traipsing through the main door looking happily exhausted. Fortunately her red bikini top reminds me that she can light me on fire even as it calls attention to the fact that our more running and combat oriented exercises have done nothing to hurt her cheerleader's physique. I almost forget about my upcoming safari. Almost.

"Things go well at the beach with your dad's new girlfriend?" No Beach Demons followed you home?

"Oh Goddess Yes! I really like her, she seems to be really good for my dad." Amy pauses, scrunching up her nose into her contemplative face, "She seemed weirdly supportive of my moving out though, which I thought was weird. I know my dad doesn't mind only because I haven't found a way to uncurse him, but aren't adults supposed to oppose 17 year olds living on their own with strange boys?" That first thought still seems to throw her for a loop even as she looks pointedly at me on that last bit.. She can't possibly not understand...

"Uh, Amy? Would you want your new boyfriend's teenage daughter underfoot while you were trying to get laid?" Okay. Wow. Amy really didn't see that coming? She makes retching noises in the doorway before coming over and flopping down on the couch next to me.

"Gross. You're supposed to let me pretend my dad never does anything like- Jack... why..?" Why is she using suddenly using the exasperated voice instead of the disgusted one? That usually means she changed topics..?

"Why what..? We've been over this. I need nouns and verbs. Or do you seriously need me to explain why people want to get laid?" And on that note, I also need for you not to be sprawled out next to me stretching in such a distracting manner if you want productive answers.

"No. Again, Gross! But... oh, where to begin... How about... Why is Harmony Kendall in our living room? Why is she painting the walls? Why is she naked?" Amy's tone gets more and more pained as she goes on before suddenly veering sharply into confused. "...And... What the hell is a Google and why is there a shit ton of paperwork on the table saying you're going to be a stakeholder when they incorporate? Oh, and what is that thing you're wearing? Is that a gauntlet?" Uhh...

"Hoo boy... Okay, I think I've got the order straight. So, In order of asking, we have..." I start ticking off my answers on my fingers as I go.

One. "Because I ran into her at that coffee shop between Sunnydale Memorial Hospital and Restfield Cemetery and decided to keep her."

Two. "Most of why I did that is because you said you wanted the house repainted, and it seems I've inherited both father's dislike of choosing colors and of painting things. Hence her doing the painting instead..." I trail off realizing I'm not super clear on the next bit.

"Uhhh... I'm not really certain why she's naked. She did that all on her own... I think she said something about not ruining her dress?" I gesture towards the paint smeared Harmony who's taken to nodding like a loon. "If you need a more detailed answer, you'd have to ask her. Please don't though, because I only just got her to shut the fuck up without then suffocating, and a direct question might set her off again. Even just talking about her has caused her to stop painting." She literally stopped breathing when I tried to shut her up the first time. Those red wires? I've determined they must have something to do with breathing and voice related things. Harmony's were all braided together. It was obnoxious. But it did give me a hint as to what must have happened to Mrs. Bellevu. "Just enjoy the view. It's quite nice after all." My brother did at least have decent aesthetic taste when picking out my soon to be Niece.

Three. Er... Four actually. Oops. "Now, lets see... Google! That's a private tech company start-up that... well, it's complicated but the short version is that they are the hammer with which I shall smite that foul blue e. The pile of paperwork is because it turns out that start up companies are super on board with dealing with random strangers. I had to hunt a bunch of them down, introduce myself and, uh... convince them... that I could be a useful member of the team. And they still wanted a bunch of money, cheeky bastards. Actually, thats where all the money from the latest round of sales went." Amy's eye twitches, "Don't look at me like that. Any good crusade includes the sacking of cities along the way. This is no different. Just think of it as having a lot more money... later. A lot more. But the money isn't even the point."

I move on before Amy manages to have an aneurysm. Five. "And this... this is the Glove of Myhnegon, but yes I think gauntlet is a more accurate description." I smile at Amy who doesn't look at all appeased.

Amy massages her temples and makes her 'why me' face. "That doesn't- Okay, you know what. Pretend I said something scathing about eating my classmates. I can't actually bring myself to give a shit about Harmony. She's always been mean to me. And I guess I can trust you about the money stuff, you've been really good at it so far. So, what's this Glove of Myhnegon? Wait, Jack!? Did you go treasure hunting without me!?" Well, at least she's got her priorities in order.

"Technically, no. There was no hunting, not yet anyway. I've always known exactly where this is. It was just never worth collecting until now. Speaking of hunting though... I'm wearing it because I'm going to go use it to collect some new test subjects. I've actually just been waiting for you to get home before I head down into the caves for a safari."

"I'm going to regret asking how it'll help you collect... test subjects... aren't I?"

Shrugging, "I don't know, my tazer never seemed to bother you, and this is just an overpowered magical version of that."

"Wait, it's a magical tazer?"

"Yup. Shoots lightning bolts that knock fledges down and leaves them twitching. It also feels like its augmenting my magical power slightly, but actually made using Thrall much harder. I suspect it's shifted my gifts from psychic hypnosis or whatever to electro-kinesis." Amy is suddenly staring at it covetously, like Gollum at the ring. "Yes, yes, you can use it to play Emperor Palpatine some time. Just as soon as I figure how to re-grow your arms." Amy suddenly stops inching towards it and looks back up at me.

"Regrow my arms!?"

"Yeah... see those spikes at the end that are embedded in my arm? I can't actually take this thing off. When I'm done I'm going to have to chop my arm off and grow a new one. Last I checked, you can't re-grow limbs. And from what I remember of this morning you seemed rather fond of your right arm." I made doubly sure that the ring would re-grow an arm lost to the glove. Magic: The Gathering taught me the difference between just plain killed and sacrificed. It was kind of strange to watch the old arm turn to dust inside the glove the instant the new arm finished growing on the test fledge. The ring must be severing the connection to the old limb somehow, but it waits until regeneration is complete? I shrug. "And yes, you can add that to that list of 'Strange stuff Jack can do' you've got mounted on your wall."

Getting no immediate response I glance over at Amy who's turned an interesting shade of red while imitating a fish. "You know about that!?"

"Yeah... you didn't exactly hide it." It was right there on the wall.

"Didn't exactly hide it!?" She's doing the fish thing with her mouth. "I waited until you were out of the house!" Well how was that going to help?

"Well… okay… sure, but you put the cork board right next to your door… Wait, is there supposed to be a threshold there?" That might explain why she seems so shocked. Thresholds unfortunately still stop me. I wonder if I can hover above an open skylight?

"Cork board..? Jack… we're not talking about the same thing are we."

"We aren't? Do you have a different list of things about me in your room somewhere? It's okay if you do. I'm not mad. It's not like I don't have a running list titled 'Amy says the damnedest things' on my own wall. My favorite is still 'No Jack. No fucking my mother!' from when you were under that curse."

Amy groans. But at least she seems to be human colored again. "Never mind Jack. You uh… probably wouldn't care anyway." Amy, you are a terrible liar... just- Oh I can't be arse'd right now. I'll deal with it later. Right now it's safari time!

I shrug, "Probably not. Alright, well, anyway. I'm off. Try to keep an eye on Harmony. I'd suggest not getting too close to her though."

"Yeah yeah, I know... I shouldn't get too attached because she's going to die when you eat her." Amy rolls her eyes at me, but she sounds rather resigned while looking at Harmony. Odd.

"Oh. No, you can fall in love with her to your heart's content. Just don't get within about five feet of her or she'll try to paint you instead of the wall." I point to the bit of paint splattered on my shirt. "I haven't figured out why she does it, but I choose to blame the glove's side effects. That or some manner of protest against the vile nature of painting things." Why would I kill my unborn Niece? She's hilarious. I shrug and head down the stairs to my lab.

---Winters Residence - Lab---

Project Recycled Blood - August 7th - Groups 1A - Conclusions:

· None of the fledges seem to be suffering any ill effects from consuming a packet's worth of each other's blood.
· They do not appear to be able to tell the difference between blood from the hospital and blood from a fellow fledge.
· Those that were fed a packet of fledgling blood report mild indigestion about half an hour later, but did seem able to process it successfully over the next hour.
· They all seemed to be really freaked out once I've explained what I was testing. None of them appeared to be able to articulate why it bothered them beyond variations of 'That's Gross!' perhaps I should be looking for fledges that are not products of the Sunnydale's dismal education system?
· As of this time Group 1 has been terminated due to having become resistant to further participation. I shall have to set up future studies to remove such possibilities. Perhaps an IV type delivery system?

Grabbing the notebook I'm using for my ring studies, I jot down my additional data on the ring's limitations.

Ring Sciences - August 7th - Additional Stake Testing Results.

· Blunt force trauma to the head does not induce memory loss, even when fully caved in. Do we not do our thinking in the brain? Why does decapitation matter then? Possibly related to the ring?
· A fledge who reports being hungry can sustain an average of approximately 70 stakings before dusting even with the ring on.
· Fledges that report being well fed can require in the neighborhood of 200 stakings.
· Increasing the length of time a stake is in seems to produce a very slight downward deviation on those averages.
· Solo stake duration test is ongoing. Current runtime is at ~4.5 hours.

Gods I love having a proper lab. 8 test subjects and I could easily accommodate twice that many. Those caverns are full of them, no wonder why my brother never seemed to want for minions.

...

I should probably go be productive rather than stare at a fledge waiting for him to dust.

...

· Solo stake duration test is cancelled due to realization that I would need to leave my ring behind on the fledge. Final Runtime 5 hours 13 minutes.

If I can't get a stake out of me in that much time I have more pressing issues. But it does seem that the healing powers of the ring still run on… Blood Power? Hmmm... maybe I should have saved some of the blood for the next round of testing? Still, hard to argue with the near complete lack of clean up required. Now there's an idea...

---Sunnydale Mall---

"Jack... Really..?" Amy whines. Whines! At me. She looks like she deflated, holding the pose from the end of her long suffering teenage girl sigh.

"Too much?" She rolls her eyes at me.

"It looks like something Xander would wear." Wow, that's an impressive number of negative emotions being conveyed in one face. Two faces actually. Harmony is nodding along in equally disapproving agreement.

"Ah, well then." I remove the bright orange Hawaiian shirt. "Rule 29 or no, there are just some lines that must not be crossed."

"I should never have let Willow help you find that damned list... Where is Harmony going?"

"... I think she's decided that she's now in charge of wardrobe decisions. Actually... I think I'm going to go ahead and let her handle it. She is the one who got paint on my one good shirt after all." Harmony on a mission in a clothing store is a sight to behold. Amy shares my fascinated amusement right up until the point where Harmony starts picking out things for her to try on too. Good Minion.

"I am not putting this on. No! Bad Harmony! Jack... make her stop." I hear her whine from the next changing stall over.

"Uh... What's wrong with the dress? From what I saw it was very... blue?" I shrug. I don't understand men's fashion let alone women's.

"It's not the dress! It's her insistence on pairing it with a thong!" Amy hisses back at me.

"Oh... In that case, nope! You're on your own Amy. Anyone got popcorn?" Should I be taking bets on whether or not Amy resorts to fire magic?

---Winters Residence - Lab---

Project Toothpick Disposal – August 11th – Final Conclusions:

· Resounding success! Draining dinner almost dry and then feeding them some fledge blood converts them into a pile dust after 2-3 nights if a toothpick is left in their heart.

It also provides a potential supplemental source of test subjects given that the caverns seem to be less populous of late. Are they coming out of hibernation now that Summer is winding down? Or is something driving them out?

...

Hmmm... I wonder if that something is just me? Oh! There goes my alarm clock. I gotta get a move on if I want to make it to LA in time.

---Los Angeles Warehouse---

"And here we have Lot 13; 1 liter of Mohra Blood. Bidding starts at four thousand. Do I see- I see four- I see five thous- I see six thousand dollars. Do I see seven th- I see seven thousand dollars."

The greenish blue demon next to me and I glare at each other.

"Do you need the whole liter? I can split it with you." He? She? It! nods in agreement.

"I see 8 thousand dollars! Do I see nine thousand?"

Now we're both glaring at some jerk in a suit. Fuck you very much good sir. That's mine, err... ours.

"Ten thousand dollars!" I raise my stupid paddle thing again. I hate fucking auctions. Gods damn it, my arm still fucking itches. I hate re-growing limbs.

---Winters Residence - Lab---

Project Recycled Blood - August 15th - Groups 2A and 2B - Conclusions:

· Feeding fledges multiple packs of fledge blood begins to pain them at around the equivalent of 4 packets. One of them died while ingesting the eighth pack. By packet number 12, attrition had claimed 7 out of the 8 members of group 2A.
· Feeding group 2B even as many as twelve packs spaced out evenly over the course of a full day just gives them repeated instances of indigestion. (see Group 1 findings)
· Draining group 2B of blood only recovered an extra 9 packs of blood per fledge. Something is happening to the missing 3 packs of blood?

Results seem consistent with alcohol poisoning. Perhaps there is a buildup of some manner of toxin(s)? Further research is clearly required.

Amy's legible hourly notations during the periods I was in L.A. hunting down Barney's auction show promise that she can be trusted to double as a lab assistant… on any experiment that doesn't make her vomit immediately upon hearing it's description anyway.

Amy further noted that the surviving member of 2A was listed as being the eldest having been sired some 5 odd years ago. Hmmm, they do seem to have died mostly in order by age with only a few exceptions. Next time maybe I should probably make sure that the age of the blood packet donors is also accounted for? Ah well, time suit up and play with my new toy. Hopefully I can find a way to safely let Amy wear the glove.

Speaking of Amy, I hear her coming down the stairs as I begin prepping for my next experiment. "I hate el niño!" ...? Oh, Amy is dripping wet. "That thunderstorm you were so excited about is here early. But whatever you wanted to show me is going to have to wait while... I... dry... Why are you wearing... is that a hazmat suit?" She starts backing up the stairs.

"Yes it is. See the bottle of green glowing fluid?" She nods vigorously, eyeing it like a bomb. "No touchy! Very expensive. Possibly very dangerous." I wave her back up the stairs. "Go towel off and then come get me? Maybe just yell down the stairs?"

I… very carefully… fill a syringe with Mohra blood. "Ok 2A-"… I recheck my notes… "5? let's… play… SCIENCE!!" I… very carefully… inject the sole 'surviving' member of group 2 with the Mohra Blood. At just shy of the full 50cc he suddenly starts convulsing. I… very carefully… put the syringe in the disposal bin and wait.

I don't have to wait long before there's a flash of light and my fledgling test subject… is… now a coma patient. Well. It's certainly a result. It seems that regaining 'life' does not cause the subject to regain their soul. Or Animating Spirit or whatever Amy was talking about the last time I bought it up.

…

I think I'll let Amy be the one to collect that one's blood. Do not want. The vial of Mohra Blood is definitely being marked as poison and placed in the safe until I can… find… a… I have a human test subject! I dub thee Subject…M!

I think... yes, I'm going to need another pair of gloves to put on top of these. Accidentally become father was bad enough. This would just be… I shudder. Maybe I won't go hunting for Mohra Demons. I think paying the exorbitant price is worth not becoming… that. Ick.

Now… where is my cleaver? I should probably heat it up so it cauterizes.

"Jack! I'm ready! What is it you wanted to show me?"

Oh! Showtime! "Just a minute." I mark the vial of Mohra Blood as a poison and place it in the safe before racing up the stairs.

---Winters Residence - Backyard---

I step outside into the storm while Amy looks on from just inside the back door.

"Okay Amy. Ready? I call this show 'Jupiter says Fuck This Place in Particular!" I resist the urge to cackle as I hold up the glove "Tar chugam a chumhacht Myhnegon!" And isn't that a mouthful? But it works… I have less than an instant to notice that it feels very different outside in a storm than it did down in the caves before -

…

I blink, looking up at Amy. Why am I on the ground soaking wet? Amy looks concerned. "Jack! Are you okay!?"

…

Right! I burst into a fit of giggles. "Why… Why wouldn't it… work like a- fucking druid spell? Of course it does. It's in fucking… Gaelic!" I clap my hands happily on the ground.

"Jack…?"

"Amy!" I giggle a little.

"Jack?"

"Amy!" I giggle a lot.

"You're not okay are you?" Hmmm...

"I… may be high as a kite! get it? A kite?" I think I'm funny. Amy clearly disagrees.

She does that thing where she rubs her temples. "Can you stand up?"

"Probably. But I'd rather wait for the sky to stop spinning." Amy shakes her head and walks away. I catch raindrops on my tongue.

Amy comes back some time later with a blood packet. "Drink this, they usually fix whatever you've done to yourself."

…

Damn. So that's what happens when I massively overfill the cup. On the plus side it will most likely be a few days before the tattoos siphon me back down to melting ice. I've come to the conclusion that that melting ice sensation is what burns through my blood supply so rapidly. I sit up, everything tingles slightly. "Thank you. Let's go back inside."

"So… what happened?"

"I made the mistake of worrying what the neighbors would think when planning a lighting show for you."

Shaking her head, Amy just walks back into the house mumbling about insane vampires.

On the plus side, if I can find a storm every 3 or 4 days I should be able to cut down on my blood intake by a considerable margin… I think this is the first time I've been bothered by Southern California's obnoxiously fantastic weather. I wonder how Myhnegon feels about municipal power grids?

 

[Aetheron]

---Winters Residence - Kitchen---

"JAAAACK!?"

I look up from my morning paper and pint of blood as Amy's incensed shriek rips through the house. I hear… two sets of running feet? I grin.

Amy comes racing into the kitchen looking murderous. Harmony right behind her.

"WHY WAS HARMONY IN MY BED!?"

"I… can't explain. It wasn't me. Err... I don't think it was me. Last I saw her was when I reconnected her power of speech and sent her home last night. I did tell her to come back this morning like usual, but I hadn't seen her until just now."

"She… was… IN! my bed. In it. Staring at me! Just like she's doing right now! Whatever you broke, FIX IT!"

"Damn, I thought I fixed that glazed expression bug. Okay okay, don't get your panties in a- Amy? You do realize that you're not wearing pants right?"

Amy is gone in a red blur before I can finish my observation. I grab Harmony before she manages to follow her. The trick with pranks is to not carry them too far. I reset Harmony's instructions and send her off to resume painting my living room. I wonder how Amy figured out she would wear other people's clothes while painting?

I drain the last bit of lemonade from the cup. Hmmm... still a little hungry... "Harmony! Come back here!"

---Winters Residence - Lab---

Project Bloodspark - August 20th - Attempt 1: Standard Home Wiring – Conclusions

· Power drawn directly from a home electrical connection is fairly minimal. Maybe enough to offset half a packet's feeding.
· Amy and Harmony both get really cranky when I accidentally short out the neighborhood's electrical wiring.
· The town electric company takes an obnoxiously long time to diagnose and repair four telephone pole transformer things when they all spontaneously fail at once.

Some manner of high end capacitor is clearly required before resuming testing. Perhaps one of the ones used for rail guns? When Amy calms down maybe I'll have her call MIT. I need her to call the lawyers again anyway. Custody paperwork takes for fucking ever to get filed properly when the adoptee isn't around. Thank the gods for thrall.

Hmmm... Nah. Making either of them deal with Harmony would likely be counterproductive, and Amy would hate letting her take over something more than she hates doing it herself. Maybe it'll be worth bringing up again when I'm done adjusting her mind. Speaking of Harmony... I probably need to visit the hospital again for more lemonade.

---Winters Residence - Atrium---

Amy leans into the livingroom "Those Google people are on the phone again, Jack. They said something about Judge McNamara and a zoning dispute for their new offices. They wanted to know if you could handle it for them like you did last time."

...

"How many fucking legal disputes can an internet startup be involved in?"

Amy does not look sympathetic to my plight. They must have just woke her up. She hates everyone and everything for an hour after that. "You're the one that decided it was easier to mind control a judge into signing off on things rather than waiting for the normal approval process. Are you really surprised that they want you to make everything else go that fast too?"

"Yeah yeah, tell them I'm on my way. I'll be there.." I dig my watch out of my pocket it's not quite 1 A.M. yet. "...Before dawn tomorrow morning to talk everyone around."

Amy nods and tosses me the keys. I wonder if just eating opposing council again would violate the 'don't be evil' motto. It'd be another lawyer after all, so that makes it my good deed for the week right? I sigh, "Damn geniuses and their ability to recognize patterns."

---The Bronze---

Sitting at our table in The Bronze, Xander and I chat amicably to pass the time as we watch the girls dance to the Dingoes' tunes.

"Nope! Mass sterilization. No new humans, just a waiting game as the current population dies of natural causes. It's a perfect solution. No killing required."

"You've got a disturbing mind, Jack."

"Thanks Xander! So nice of you to notice." I try and delivery the line as warmly and heartfelt as I possibly can so that he doesn't mistakenly assume I'm being sarcastic. He's been doing that a lot lately.

Amy and Willow flop tiredly into the remaining two chairs. "Hey you two, all danced out?"

"Just break taking. What're you two talking about? It looked heated for a while there."

"Oh, Jack here was just explaining how he thinks that sterilizing everyone is the way to go." Xander smirks at me.

Amy slumps down in her seat and groans.

Willow, red-faced, starts shaking her finger at me. "Jerk! You can't do that! It… That would be very of the badness. And… and… I'd stop you!" She glares at me.

I roll my eyes at Willow, and turn to glare at Xander. "What I'm sure Xander meant to include in that was that we were discussing the Terminator movies. He was saying that Skynet's programmers were obviously fucking Muppets for not including provisions against killing its own citizens. I'm simply pointing out that no self respecting intelligence, artificial or otherwise, should consider that challenge insurmountable. Which brings back to my original reason for being here. Willow, do you happen to know where I could find some good books on technomancy?" Like say, the ones you got from Miss Calendar?

Hmmm... usually Willow only makes that face when I make a joke about her not being a hooker because she's neither dead nor in a trunk. All I asked for some books to help make my new investment run smoother. Sheesh.

---Sunnydale Memorial Hospital---

My stroll towards the hospital locker room is brought to an unexpected halt when a doctor in his lab coat step into my path and stares at me.

"YOU!" A finger is pointed at me accusingly.

"ME!" I agree. I am me after all.

"What did you do?" this again?

"Seriously? I expect this kind of thing from Amy or Harmony, but you're a doctor. Shouldn't you understand the need for specificity?" Also, you're in the way. I'm trying to get to the blood bank.

"Sorry. You're the boy that got Sandra to talk, yes?"

"Who?"

"Oh... Sorry to bother you. You looked like someone who helped one of our patients."

"Patients? Oh! You mean the girl that punched me? Right. How is she?"

"I understand she's doing very well, though obviously I can't go into details. Her doctor was hoping to talk to you about what you did for her... We're all very curious." Lesson learned. No fixing random crazy people. It makes the psychiatrists get curious.

I shrug. "... She reminded me of a friend back home, I just did what I would have done if she were having an episode. It really just amateur hypnosis. I would NOT call it hypnotherapy." I just want to steal my blood and leave. Why won't you go away?

...

'Go Away'

"Would you be- Thank you for your time, I have to go."

Yes. You do. 'You're late! Run!' "...Bye!"

Now... where was I? Ah yes. Step 3; Stealing scrubs from the locker room.

---Winters Residence - Lab---

Project Recycled Blood - August 25th - Groups Elder, 3A, 3B and M2 - Conclusions

· I HAVE CAPTURED A MASTER VAMPIRE!

…

Damn it. Science is no place for exaggerated gloating. Glorious fight or no. I cross it out.

· I HAVE CAPTURED A MASTER VAMPIRE!
· I have acquired a nearly fifty year old Vampire for testing purposes. Designated as Subject Elder
· Feeding Subject Elder blood from fledges does not seem to induce indigestion until the 6th packet. Elder vampires appear to have built up a tolerance perhaps?
· Feeding the fledges 2 packets of blood from the Subject Elder killed 5 out of the 8 members of group 3A. Once again, the survivor was one of the older fledges, but not the oldest. Odd.
· Most disturbingly, the survivors of 3A exhibit some small strength gains, but Subject 3A-7 has begun some of the traits previously only noted in subject Elder. The other survivors were all sired by Elder, or one of Elder's children. Some manner of family trait override as the older blood replaces the younger?
· Reducing quantities to 1 packet for group 3B induced the pain previously noted in group 2A at ~4 packets, but only in 6 of the subjects. Older vampire blood is more potent? Or carries more of the alcohol like toxins? Some fledges have a stronger or weaker resistance or tolerance? Hmmm... The 2 vampires not reporting symptoms are also Elder's direct descendants.
· Subject M expired during limb regeneration. Cause of death appears to have been either starvation or heat stroke due to his body rapidly burning through already low fat reserves to fuel the growth of his new arm. Perhaps some manner of nutrient rich supplement should be included in treatment? Or perhaps spacing growth out over a longer time period?
· Subject M2, fed the reclaimed blood Subject M, appears to be suffering no ill effects. She did report that it tastes stale. I find myself curious what Subject M3 will think. Mohra Blood may be a possible decontaminating agent for fledge blood. I should look into Iodine's similar uses on drinking water for comparison purposes. Shame about the expense.
· As before, reclamation fails to recover all of the blood fed to subject, blood from older vampires especially so. Subject Elder and M2 remain viable and have not been subjected to reclamation.

I sigh. Well, again, they're the results. Not liking them doesn't change that. Subject Elder's blood seems to be 4 times as toxic as that of a fledge. The strength gains of 3A's survivors looked promising, but it only seems to be safe to drink blood from my own direct family line. Even ignoring the obnoxiously high risk of suffering a critical existence failure, I'm rather attached to the knack for Thrall I presumably got from Mother. Curious that… Did the gift skip over Grandfather and Great-Grandmother? Or were they simply not of the personality types to work at it given what they were able to accomplish just as easily with words and a pretty face.

...

Now is not the time to be distracted by Great Grandmother's pretty... face. The kind of eating I'd like to – No. She's dust currently anyway, and I really need to get back to my limb regeneration studies.

---Winters Residence - Atrium---

I look around at the now completely repainted living room. Credit where credit it due.

"Good job, Harmony! You were right, this color really does look fantastic in here."

"I know right?" ... She's getting entirely too good at reconnecting her voice. It's probably all that practice she gets yammering on about gossip at school.

...

"Harmony! I have a new project for you. I think you'll like this even more than painting. I need you to go tell people..."

---Winters Residence - Combat Training Room---

I stare in alternation at the wall and Amy. That is so very worth all the time and effort, not to mention expense, of figuring out how to regrow human limbs. I love Mohra Blood!

Arming Amy with the Glove of Myhnegon is a sight to behold. What for me is a glorified tazer, Amy turns into a fucking cannon. Sadly, I think the target dummy is mocking her.

"Don't worry about it. We can fix that hole in the wall. Let's just, you know, work on hitting the... target... next time."

Amy doesn't seem to have heard me, she's still staring at the glove looking like Christmas came early.

---The Gallery - Joyce's Office---

Stepping into her office at the gallery, I'm struck by the fact that she looks genuinely happy for the first time since I've started working with her.

"Hey, Mrs. Summers. Amy said you were looking to talk to me?" I still find it a little bizarre that people just accept that I'm never available to talk on the phone. Amy begrudgingly accepting her position as my secretary makes a sort of sense. She's clearly come to the conclusion that I'm some manner of luddite because of my reactions to constantly being confronted by such ancient technology. Whatever, once I'm done rewriting Harmony I can probably make her take over the role. "Did someone try to buy one of the remaining pieces."

"Oh. No, I just wanted to say thank you."

"…for what?"

"I got a call from the Chief of Police a few days ago. They're dropping all charges. My daughter can come home!"

"That's awesome Mrs. Summers!" Feign confusion. "But… why are you thanking me?" There is no need to fake my derision regarding the Sunnydale Police. "Shouldn't you be thanking whichever detective finally realized he was being a fuc- ahem, a Muppet?"

"Oh come on now. I've heard about the little scene you made in the police station yesterday. Whatever you said to them. Thank You."

Feign discomfort. "Oh… uh… you're welcome. It just didn't seem right is all." Rumors are incredibly easy to start when you have the biggest gossip of the high school on staff. Oh Harmony, you continue to find the most bizarre ways to prove useful. Maybe I won't feed you to William. I'll have to think about it.

"Would you and Amy like to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I feel like it's the least I can do."

…

"That would be awesome, Mrs. Summers. I accept your invitation. I'm sure Amy will be thrilled as well." MUAHAHAHA! Suck it threshold protections. Suck it! And here I just wanted the Slayer's mother to feel indebted to me.

This is so worth all the time I've had to spend rummaging through various police officer's heads to keep apprised of when the Mayor rescinded his demands that they push the investigation forward. I still catch myself wanting a fucking donut occasionally, and none of the places around here make a decent Boston Crème.

…

Well, there's a horrifying thought. What if it's my new vampire taste buds ruining them?

---Sunnydale Memorial Hospital---

Gods Damn It! I've been cornered again. I prepare myself to endure another boring chat with a psychiatrist. This one promises to be especially surreal because I distinctly remember seeing this man minioning for my Brother later this year.

"Hi. You're Jack Winters right? My name is Dr. Walsh, I'm Sandra's doctor. I was wondering if you'd mind answering some questions about... you called it hypnosis?"

'Go A-' uhhh... "Did you say Dr. Walsh? ...Do you know a Maggie Walsh?"

"Oh, you've met my wife?" Huh, a ton of stuff just started making sense.

"Heard of her. She teaches psychology over at UC Sunnydale right?"

"Reeeaallly? You go to UC Sunnydale? You know, we have an internship here at the hospital if you're looking to get a head start on your work study requirements." I never said. Oh, yes. I bet you'd love to make a case study out of my work.

"Well, I'm only in high school right now..." Oh, to hell with it, in for a penny, 'tell me more about this internship.' Maybe I can get paid to practice my thrall, and mother nature creates the most interesting messes that I'd love to be able to simulate. These people are clearly never going to allow me to steal my lemonade in peace.

---Sunnydale Cemeteries---

Walking past Erikson Cemetery on my way home from the hospital I hear the sounds of fighting, as choreographed by the Marx Brothers at least. This ought to be amusing. I head a bit further along until I can see past the mausoleum blocking my view and rest my arms on the chest height cast iron fence that once may have... kept out toddlers maybe? Certainly isn't going to keep a vampire IN.

Scoob on fledge action is usually almost as good as a Three Stooges episode. Although... Huh, I don't remember ever seeing them manage a 3v3 before. Where's Cordelia? Didn't Harmony mention her being home from Mexico in her latest report? Oops. Vamp chick got Xander in a headlock... I wonder how they survived this canonically?

...

"Well… Damn," I huff out as I vault over the cemetery fence. Sure, I haven't proven they won't spontaneously pull some manner of plot armor driven victory out of their asses, but I'd rather not bet the world on that. I have all of my of stuff here after all and honestly? Doing the whole saving the world thing myself sounds fucking exhausting. One rescue, made to order. This is what I get for setting the script on fire.

"Excuse me! …Hi... Sorry to interrupt." Okay… Fucking Seriously? That's all it took to get the fighting to stop? I mean I know the fledges are uniformly retarded, but come on! Willow at the very least was supposed to be smart. Eh, gift horses and mouths or whatever, and I guess this is still their early years. I flick my wrist and hack off the head of the nearest fledge. I can't even bring myself to take joy in the dumbfounded look on his dumb looking face. Fish. In. A. Barrel! My gods! How do any vampires survive their first week? Who honestly thought turning these morons was a good idea? That girl over there let Xander out of a headlock because someone came over and said hello? I mean really?

…

I bet it was someone looking for cheap labor. Or maybe an easy lay? She did at least look pretty flexible. Oh who cares. They make excellent training dummies. Oh! This one has a knife. What good is that going to do you? Come on! Try it! I dare you! That's not a knife! This is a knife!

"Is it just me or does anyone else find that laugh incredibly disturbing?" Huh? What laugh? What are you talking about Xander?

"It's more of a cackle really." Ah. Must be some sort of secret Scooby/Shaggy in joke? At least Oz is helping, he staked that one guy.

Fledgey McKnifington stumbles on a root and our fun little dance ends abruptly. Ah well. I turn around and find the three stooges all staring me while nodding in agreement with each other. I point my sword at Xander, which would probably be more intimidating if chasing the idiot fledge hadn't carried me well outside of melee range of them. "Fuck you Charlie Brown! No commentary from the Peanuts gallery!"

The look of shock on their faces is all the warning I get before I feel a stake punch through my back and into my heart. Fucking Ow! I whip around and slam my fist into the sneaky fucker of a fledge. I grin at the satisfying crack of a nose breaking. How very dare you interr- Well fuck. Hi Buffy. I think I find it even more disturbing that a Slayer just snuck up on me than I did the idea that I had miscounted the number of fledges fighting. Of course now I'm staring at a Slayer who's face is morphing from confusion to anger almost as fast as her nose is un-breaking itself. How is that even fair?

I do first sensible thing that occurs to me. I channel the ever-living fuck out of Dawn Summers, annoyed younger sibling extraordinaire. "Gods Buffy! Rude much!? You can't just walk up to people and shove things into them! You have to at least buy me dinner first!" I spin back around and glare at the Scoobies before marching off. "You know what!? Fuck you all very much! Christ on a cracker, see if I ever try to help you buggerfucking hunters again! If it's not wolf boy trying to sniff me, or Willow angling for a one-more-some, it's Stabberific Barbie and her amazing pegging fetish! Well at least Willow must be happy, she finally found the final member for that foursome she's always wanted!"

I could probably have come up with more material but having reached the cemetery gate it seemed superfluous and yelling with a stake through my left lung hurts. Fortunately this left me free to hear Willow's latest rendition of "Jack's a Jerk" be interrupted abruptly by Buffy's cry of "Mr. Pointy!"

…

Running at top speed with a stake in my heart put my previous discomfort in some perspective. Fuck that hurts!

I slam the door behind me as I stomp into the house. I can hear the shower upstairs. Damn. I can't reach this stupid stake. Fortunately I seem to have good timing as the sound of running water cuts off just as I make attempt number two to do so. "Amy!? Little help please?" I can hear her rushing around for a bit before her door opens.

…

I wonder how many faces she'll make when she sees what she gets to add to her wall this time?

 

[Aetheron]

***POV Amy***

---

---Winters Residence - Atrium---

I flop over onto the couch. Of course Harmony fucking Kendall would be here. I come home wearing a bikini and Jack has Harmony painting the room naked. Of course he doesn't even look at me. Why would he with Harmony and her obnoxiously fantastic pair of-

...

No. Not okay. I'm getting a her bathrobe. She has to wear something! I am not going to fucking 'enjoy the view' Jack. And while I'm on the topic, is it really necessary to stare at me like I'm the lunatic whenever I use the F word? Seriously? You can curse like a drunken sailor, but oh no! Amy said a bad word. Fucking crazy vampires and their fucking super hearing.

Fucking Harmony. "Put this on."

"Thank you, Amy."

Ungh... Didn't Jack say you couldn't talk?

...

"DAMN IT, HARMONY! PAINT THE WALL NOT ME!"

---Winters Residence - Amy's Room---

Stepping out of the shower, I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror.

I guess I haven't gained that much weight. Eating all those cookies while Jack was living with Mrs. Bellevu may have been a mistake, but with all the running and magical practice

...

I still feel pudgy. Harmony can't pinch her belly like this.

---Winters Residence - Atrium---

Lounging in the Atrium, I can hear the basement door open, faint music suddenly drifting up along with Jack's rapid footsteps. So glad the previous owners were firm believers in sound proofing. Going down there to takes notes for Jack was disturbing. Fascinating, but disturbing. "But she only comes when she's on top!" What!?

Ah! "Put me down! Jack! Bad! Why are we spinning!?"

Why are you lifting me up and... Oh god, I don't want to go down there. "The therapist said not to see you no more." Wait seriously? You have a therapist? Why are you carrying me into the lab? "She said you're like a disease without any cure." Are you fucking kidding me? She who? Can't we talk about this? "She said I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no." What!?

...I know this song...

I slap Jack on the side of the head. "Jack... You're singing again aren't you..? We've talked about this. You can't sing! It doesn't even sound like singing."

"But it worked!"

"No. It didn't I thought you'd finally snapped. "

"Oh... Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm being ridiculous? You just ran into the room, picked me up, spun around a few times and then started carrying me down here into the lab. But I'm the ridiculous one!? "

"But look! See! Subject M4 has both her arms."

"People are supposed to have two arms Jack." Wait M? Wasn't she a vampire? But she's breathing... and has a heartbeat! What the hell are you doing down here?

"Yes! But I have its original right here. See?" Jack waves a detached bloody arm at me like a puppet. As if on cue the song on the speakers changes. "I even still have enough of that stuff you call magic green goop to re-grow another 3 or 4 of them."

...

"I'm going back upstairs, Jack. This is too much. I can't do this."

"...What's wrong?"

"I can't watch you describe re-growing the arm of some girl, who I'm sure you've decided is about my height and weight, while listening to Kermit and Fozzy sing about road trips in a Studebaker. Just... No! I'm Moving Right Along back upstairs."

---Winters Residence - Kitchen---

A metal gauntlet crashes down onto the kitchen table, startling me into spilling my soup. Jack! Little warning next time?

"Okay! Ground rules of using the Glove of Myhnegon.

1. Never try to take it off. It won't work. It will hurt though.

2. Never have me remove it while charged. Never Ever. Always drain the batteries completely first.

3. Never call lightning in a Storm. Just... Ouch.

4. Always confirm, personally, that we have 'that Green Goop', Morphine, and ALL of the nutrition supplements before beginning the removal process.

Do you understand these terms and conditions?"

"For the eighth time now, yes, I understand." Jack, I'm not a moron. I watched you get struck by that bolt of lightning.

"Okay then! Let's go do some target practice." How did he manage to make that sound ominous?

Fuck! He definitely undersold how much this thing stings when it attaches.

---Winters Residence - Amy's Room---

I hear the door slam open down stairs. "Damn it!" So close! I shake my left hand out. Doing this left handed is harder than I expected. But Jack's description of what would happen when I need to take the glove off is not something I want to do more than I need to. I wash my remaining hand an extra time before stepping out of the shower. I really need to learn a privacy spell.

Downstairs I hear Jack shout, "Amy!? Little help please?" Yup. Could have called that one when I heard him slam the door. Oh. Wait. I did. That's why I'm already almost done toweling off. And of course, he somehow sounds both incredibly annoyed and overwhelmingly happy. I swear, only Jack can manage that. I used to wonder if he had ADHD, but now I'm thinking he may just be bipolar. Only instead of manic and depressed, he has violently happy and obsessively driven. He's been channeling both extra heavily ever since he got struck by lightning. At least I know not to use this thing outside in a thunderstorm now though.

Tying my bathrobe around my waist, I head down stairs. Making him wait never helps when he sounds like that. "What did you do now?" I count it as a sad fact of my life these days that I can't even sound surprised that his shirt has blood on it. He spins around and points at his back. Wait. Is that a stake!? "Jack!? What happened?"

"Met Buffy in person tonight. Joyce never mentioned how... enthusiastic... she can be about gift giving."

"Gift giving, Jack? Really? You almost died, and you're cracking jokes? She can't have missed your heart by..." Pulling the stake out, I watch as his heart reseals before the gaping hole in his back closes. The hell?

He turns back around, stretches out his arms and smiles that insane smile, "See, I'm fine. Clearly nothing to worry about." I'm still gaping at him as he takes the stake back. "And what a marvelous Christmas gift for Mother this shall be. Did you know that this stake once belonged to the girl Mother butchered to make me my Sister?" That was IN your heart Jack. I'm not sure why any of this surprises me, Jack's always been like this. Using a Cross like a baton, and he seems to have gotten past the whole daylight thing somehow while I was unconscious and I know he wants me to help him blame it on that stupid necklace but that just tells me that isn't it. Now... fuck it, I give up. This is normal now.

"Only you could get staked in the heart, and not only forget to dust, but not even care because you've found a Christmas gift for your Mother." Jack just nods with his usual distracted enthusiasm and bounds off up the stairs 4 or more at a time without taking his eyes off the stake. I give up. It's not worth thinking about. That way lies madness. I'll add it to my list along with the fact that he has a Sister as well. Because Jack mentioning that he has a Brother that really likes railroad spikes isn't worrying enough. And the worst part is it doesn't even bother me enough to justify not continuing my shower. Crazy vampires are just my life now.

When I reach the top of the stairs I run into Jack coming back from his room. His fist is in his mouth and he's groaning. Really? Did you only just now realize that you got staked tonight? Oh of course he didn't. He probably just- "Realized your mother might not appreciate a stake for Christmas?"

"That was a mistake." His voice is suddenly deeper and kind of growly.

I take a step back. He's staring at me funny, eyes roving up and down. His fists are clenching and unclenching spasmodically. "Uh..." Overreaction much?

Jack nods. "Right then. I'm going out. Don't wait up." He heads off down the stairs, glancing back at me and shaking his head a few times. The hell?

"Jack? What's wrong? " This is weird even for Jack.

"Forgot. Slayers Blood. Aphrodisiac. No good will come of staying here with you in that robe." And then the door slams behind him.

"Well at least now I know he thinks I'm pretty." Harmony has somehow gotten even more in shape since Jack started to 'work on her.' Seriously, why hasn't he eaten her yet? At least she still isn't allowed to speak much. Where's a pack of hyena spirit possessed students when you need one? I'd have live food to offer them and everything.

Stupid Harmony and her stupidly toned belly. I poke myself in the stomach. She doesn't- hey wait. I poke myself in the stomach again to confirm. Okay, maybe Jack has a point about all those stupid exercises he has me doing while trying to zap the target dummies. But seriously, why the hell do I need to be able to peg a target in the face with a lightning bolt while sprinting laps?

Stupid Vampire and his stupid grin whenever I ask him about it… Stupid Vampire and his stupid weird look he's giving from where he apparently came back in the front door.

"Also, dinner with Joyce tomorrow. And of course I do, but saying that is like saying I think water is wet. I mean duh." Still in that deeper growly voice, and definitely staring at me? Damn it. I pull the damn robe closed again.

And he's gone again. Door slamming behind him. My Crazy Vampire.

I smile. "Definitely feeding Harmony to the hyenas alive. This is all her fault… somehow." I just can't bring myself to hate her for it properly right now. Yeah. That's it. Only temporary.

---Summers Residence---

Mrs. Summers steps to the side in the traditional Sunnydale 'can you enter my home?' test.

Okay Mr. Crazy Vampire, I've been wondering all night how you think you're going to-

Jack steps through the door smooth as can be. "Thanks again for having us over, Joyce." He offers her the bottle of wine that he found somewhere.

Well… I think that's the last of the check list. Crosses are just toys to play with when bored to him. Daylight? takes strolls in it all the time. Stakes? Right in the heart! He fucking walked home to make me pull it out like a child with a splinter. And now, thresholds? Didn't even break fucking stride. Oh! Fire. He's always muttering under his breath about not wanting to be on fire. I guess there's that at least.

I fiddle with the sling I've got hiding my right arm. I don't care how awkward it feels, I am not letting Jack 'just chop it off and grow a new one.' I like my arm. I told you I like... Oh goddess! THATS what he was talking about? Damn it!

A loud cry of "YOU!" jolts me back into reality. Lost in my thoughts, I must have made it into the kitchen on autopilot. Buffy is pointing at Jack accusingly. Jack doesn't seem nearly concerned enough about having a Slayer glaring at him. Replaying things in my mind I think I remember Mrs. Summers starting to introduce us?

Why is Jack smiling? "ME!" Oh no. Jack, now is not the time for that game. I look over at Joyce, the only person in the room who seems to share my alarm and confusion.

"You stole Mr. Pointy!"

"... technically you gave... Mr. Pointy? Really? to me. In fact, you seemed rather insistent that I have it." Jack, really? You called it Mr. Pointy yourself earlier, why are you pretending to be confused now.

"Buffy? Jack? You two know each other?"

Simultaneously, Jack's calm, "We met last night. Restfield Cemetery wasn't it?"

Competes with Buffy's angry, "Jack!? Mom! He's a demon! Why are you on a first name basis with a demon!?"

Jack manages to sound affronted, "Excuse me, Half-demon!" ... that's even technically true isn't it? Damn it, Jack.

Joyce seems rather shocked, "Half demon? Really?"

"Yeah yeah, I seem so normal right? It's okay. I understand. We'll go." Oh, fucking Christ Jack, can't you ham it up playing the sympathy card AFTER we get to eat? I'm hungry damn it!

Groaning, I get two steps following him towards the door before Joyce stops us. "I'm sorry about this you two. Rain check?"

"Mom! No rain checks! He's a demon! I staked him and he didn't die!"

Joyce's shocked cry of "You did what!?" brings about a brief awkward silence.

"Oh. Right, that reminds me." He pulls a stake sized box wrapped in fancy paper with a bow from his jacket pocket. "Amy convinced me that you might like to have this back. Sentimental attachment or something?" I convinced no such thing Jack. All I said was that your Mother might not like it as a gift. Did you seriously lose interest in it that fast?

"Thank you, Amy." Wow Buffy, that's impressive how you can sound all sincere while still glaring at Jack.

Jack and I make it back to the street before he keels over with a case of the giggles. "Really? What could possibly be so funny about not getting to eat dinner?"

"...oh right, you can't still hear Buffy and Joyce trying too hard not to argue right now. I think they're both trying way too hard to avoid the topic of Buffy running away. Joyce is mad that Buffy was rude to that nice boy who got the police to drop the charges. Buffy is grumbling loudly about Ted. Oh this is perfect."

"Nice? You?"

"Hey! Of course I am! Far as Joyce knows anyway." Jack starts giggling again. But this time I think it's at the noises my poor empty tummy is making. "Come on, Amy, I'll buy you a steak." Yum! Hey! No distracting me with food!

---Winters Residence - Combat Training Room---

I stare up at the ceiling. No amount of weight lost, or flattened stomach, is worth this. I'm done. I've fallen and I don't want to get back up. This seems like a great place to take a nap.

Jack squats down next to me. He peers into my eyes quickly, searchingly, like he always does after training, and then smiles at me. "You alive in there?" I'd worry more, but I've seen how long it takes him to get Harmony to do anything she doesn't want to do.

"Your call is important to me. Please hold." Goddess, I've heard variations of that line too much lately. Maybe I should let Harmony take over phone duty, then maybe she'd find someone else to talk to. I think Jack makes her tell me about her day in excruciating detail for fun.

I glare at Jack as he laughs at me. "Why are we still doing this again?" Ungh... come on, Amy, you know better than to ask Jack a question like that.

He just looks at me and smiles. "Because it's important. I'd rather you don't get eaten." Oh. That was surprisingly not terrible. "I'd be rather sad if I lost you tomorrow night." Damn. Spoke too soon. Jack gets up and starts walking away. "Sounds like Harmony is back with coffee if you want some." Okay fine. Maybe we can kill Harmony before we feed her to the hyena spirits. I crawl to my knees and force my way towards the kitchen for some caffeinated goodness.

I'm two sips into my coffee when I remember school starts tomorrow... Damn.

---Sunnydale High Courtyard---

Standing outside Sunnydale High, Jack seems far too chipper. Can he really not feel that? Oh right, Vampire. He probably thinks it feels lovely.

Jack throws his arm around me and points at Harmony. "Awww, they grow up so damn fast. It seems like it's only been a month since I found her and here we are, watching her march off to her senior year of high school." And best of all marching off away from me!

"I still don't get it. How can you call your work done? She's exactly like she use to be! How is that fixed?"

"Oh she's not even a little bit the same. Not where it counts. When I found her she was an overly talkative nervous wreck seeking approval from the masses and trying to fit in. Now? Now she's an overly talkative girl who doesn't give a shit what anyone else thinks about her. Want to see some fireworks? Wait until she runs into Cordelia."

"You mean… are you telling me… that I put up with Harmony for a month so you could make her be a more confident bitch to people?"

"Gods no, you put up with her for a month so that I could instill deep-seated need for our approval. She just won't care what other people think about it. Between that and her love of gossip she'll report in anytime she hears anything worth mentioning. Her reports are so much easier to deal with than talking to the masses directly. I've given her direction in life, a purpose, a reason for being." He sighs, "Well, I'm off to check in at the office, being the new guy and all." Suddenly I'm alone at the door into the school.

---Sunnydale High Hallways---

First day of classes. First period hasn't even started yet. Jack's been out of sight for maybe a minute. I'm surrounded by Scoobies. Joy.

"Can I help you people?" Yes, I'm channeling Jack, and from the look on Willow's face she knows it. I smile at her, "Is there something on my face?"

"What is Jack?" Oh, we're playing that game again?

I open my mouth to speak but Harmony's voice cuts me off, "Hi, Amy! …Willow? Seriously? That shirt? with your hair?"

Hi, Amy!? She's talking like… we're… oh. I get it. Jack trained me a guard dog. How... sweet?

While Harmony and the Cordettes pick the dumbest fight possible with Willow and the scoobs, I sneak away to Math class. Maybe we can keep Harmony after all, watching her go toe to toe with Cordelia is pretty funny.

---Sunnydale Cemeteries---

"Why are we in a cemetery at night?" I could ask, or "Why did you bring an axe instead of just the wrist mounted sword thing?" or maybe even "should I be concerned that you mentioned losing me and now we're in a cemetery?" but oh no, I know better. Instead I ask, "How much longer do we have to stand here?"

"Not much, we're almost to the running and fighting part of tonight's live fire exercise." Oh good, we're almost-

"LIVE FIRE EXERCISE!? Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it does."

"Well... traditionally it implies people shooting lethal munitions at you... so I suppose it doesn't mean what you're expecting. And... 3... 2... 1... SHOWTIME!" Jack pockets that girly watch he says is a souvenir from his first. I'm never sure if he's referring to sex or murder. Or both. It could be both... that should bother me right? I think it used to bother me.

"I'd ask what show it's time for but the zombies crawling out of the ground pretty much has that covered."

"I can agree with that." Oh of course you can.

"So we're clear; You knew this was going to happen?"

"Yeah... Joyce showed me the demon mask that's animating them yesterday. Nigerian apparently. I guess they have more than just fake cash strapped princes to export." I'm not even going to touch that one.

"…So… if you knew that tonight would be the night of the living dead..? Then why are we in the middle of the largest graveyard in town!?"

"Live. Fire. Exercise. Think of them as moving target dummies. Lots of moving target dummies." Jack grins and smashes in the face of one of the zombies that got too close. Oh right, this is fun for you isn't it.

...fucking insane vampires. "Tar frim!" Oh great. They explode! That's sooo gross. "Tar frim!" Okay... kind of fun as long as they stay over there.

Jack, I think I hate you. "Tar frim!" This is why you always make me do this while running isn't it?

"Tar frim!" I can't believe it, but I think this might be kinda fun. MUAHAHAHA ZAP!

"Really, Amy?"

"What? You can cackle like a madman but I can't?"

"No, you're just doing it wrong. Ivy sounds nothing like that." Oh for fucks sake.

"Jack! We've talked about this. Tar frim! You are not the Joker. I am not Poison Ivy. Tar frim! And wouldn't I be Harley anyway? Hello! Blonde! Not a redhead."

"Harley!? Says the girl who can't lift the hammer." Seriously!? That's what you care about?

---Sunnydale High Library---

"So… I told you they were asking questions about you.. and your grand plan is to invade their not so secret headquarters?"

"Yup. That's where they keep the answers after all."

"Should I have brought the popcorn?"

"Probably," Jack shoves the library doors open and strolls in, "Excuse me, Mr. Giles? Can I talk to you?" He waves at the Scoobies, clustered around a book laden table. Buffy and Willow glare at him, but Xander waves back before glancing at Buffy and schooling his expression into a scowl.

"Uh. Yes. Quite. I am here for all of the students of Sunnydale High after all."

Jack lowers his voice, "Cool… but… I uh… meant like as a Watcher." He's doing that scratching the back of his head thing too, this can't be good. "I was… uh… kind of hoping you might help me figure out what my dad might have been?"

…

Son of a bitch. He just sounds so earnest. Even knowing he's lying through his teeth- 'might have been my ass'- I feel a little awkward right now. Buffy and Oz over at the table clearly heard his whispering voice too. They're giving each other looks. I bet he did that on purpose too.

Mr. Giles starts polishing his glasses while stammering out his agreement. "Yes, we were actually engaged in just that endeavor now. If you'd be willing to answer some questions it could be of considerable help."

"Well, what would you like to know?"

I really should have brought that popcorn.

---Sunnydale Warehouse District---

"Broad daylight? You think broad daylight is the best time to hunt down a group of vamps that annoyed you?"

"Of course! They can't escape into the night if it isn't night." He reaches into the back of the truck and pulls out a grenade from the box.

You know, somehow, seeing Jack of all people holding a grenade is a completely different proposition than talking to some guy on the phone to set up a meeting so Jack can buy one. I really hope this Emil guy gave him the safety manu- Oh who am I kidding, it's not like Jack would read it.

"Okay. Are you ready?" Well I was, but now that you're being careful I'm thinking I should be terrified right now. Especially since you brought a shotgun I didn't even know you had and that ridiculous hammer of yours. What could we possibly be doing that would need that? You said they were a crew of vamps. I nod anyway. "Okay then, Live Fire Exercise number 2. Remember, you're on taser duty for the big dude and the black guy…" Jack trails off, looking at me with an odd expression before smiling, "What's rule 1 Amy?"

"Don't die." Like I need to be told that.

"Good Girl. 3… 2… 1…" the grenade sails through the warehouse window and explodes. Jack's out from behind the truck before the debris even settles, moving at that insane speed he hits when he's enjoying himself in a fight. Already? Really? We haven't even started yet.

The door, already weakened by the explosion crumples inward when Jack hits it like he thinks he's a SWAT team member on TV.

The roar of that shotgun isn't so bad.

…

My hearing is shot to hell isn't it? Great. Well, at least Jack's magic green goop can fix whatever happens. Even if it is disgusting. I chase Jack into the warehouse.

Okay, zombies and vampires are not the same. These guys are trying to dodge around as I taze them. Big dude? What big- Oh! Black Guy! "Tar frim!"

Why are there so many of them crowded on my side-

Jack's shotgun barks again and… so THAT's why he was so excited about dragons breath shells.

…

HAHAHAHAHA now I know why Jack seems so obsessively hellbent on not being lit on fire.

"Tar frim!" Where is… shit-

Jack goes sailing through the air across my vision, followed by a large… what the hell is wrong with his hands and face? Hey! That's my vampire you're punching! "Tar frim!"

… well shit. Why isn't he on the ground twitching? He looks annoyed. "Tar frim!" My legs have me backpedaling before I even properly realize the big deformed vampire thing is staggering towards me. Staggering? "Tar frim!"

YES! He's down! "Tar frim! And stay down, Ugly." Oh, I heard myself talk that time!" Ears are still ringing though. Ah!- I drop to the ground. Who just threw a chair at me? Oh, the black guy! "Tar frim!" ...I feel like a racist. I should have asked Jack for names. ... Why is it that calling him the black guy is what bothers me about all this?

To my side Jack has finally picked himself and… Gross! He lost an arm? That looks like it hurts. Doesn't seem to be stopping him from wandering about, staking fledges with his offhand though.

Is his arm just re-growing on the spot? But he didn't even use the green goop… what the hell?

… Okay that is just disgusting.

"Jack, just stake him already." Jack looks up from where he's breaking off each off the big guy's legs with his hammer while spewing obscenities. He shakes his head, "What do you mean, no?"

"You can stake others. This guy… we're keeping, we're going to send him to the special hell." Oh. Ewww.

"Really, Jack? Why can't we just stake him and go home?"

"He tried to rape my Sister." Oh... Well. Okay then.

"Tar frim!" ...I guess enjoying the way that thing spasmed in pain is normal now too? Jack loads his 'prize' into a body bag from the truck while I stake the remaining vampire on the ground. Ick. Magic Green Goop or no, I do not want to get hit by a ...frag? grenade.

---Winters Residence - Atrium---

Jack comes up out of the lab and grins at me, holding up a box. "Ready to go?"

"Are you serious!? You told me to get dressed up. You said this was important. But you're going to wear the bloodstained shirt from earlier tonight? No. Shower. Change. Go!"

Jack looks down at his clothes as if noticing them for the first time. He checks his watch, "...fine..."

"Oh don't give me that tone. You can't go to the Bronze looking like you just committed murder." Especially not when it might be true! "And don't stick your tongue out at me! You know I'm right."

"You're hungry again aren't you?"

"Shut up!" Maybe I am. So what. That doesn't make me any less right.

A quick shower and a few minutes later Jack is back, buttoning up a new shirt. He hands me a cookie. I glare at him while I eat it. Dieting around Jack is impossible.

---The Bronze---

Jack stops dead in the doorway of The Bronze. I just barely avoid walking straight into him. If I hadn't been so close I don't think I'd have heard him just barely whisper, "...fucking perfect." What's wrong- No, not wrong, he's using that deeper voice I've only ever heard when he was high on Buffy's blood that one time. Uh....

Following his gaze I see a new girl sitting with the scoobs. Some Goth chick with dark shoulder length hair, black tank top and leather pants. Of course she's pretty. Why wouldn't she be? "Focus, Jack. You said we were meeting your... Sister?"

"Yup. Let's go say hello!" He looks over at the band, "... think you could toss up that privacy spell you mentioned in this?" He gestures around the noisy club... and he's off, headed straight for New Girl. That's his Sister!? Can't Buffy sense vampires? Ones who aren't freaks of science like Jack I mean? Or... Goddess... is his entire family just naturally like that? That is a horrifying thought. I follow along behind him, starting the chant. Without the sage this isn't going to work nearly as well or long. I hope Jack realizes that.

Jack doesn't seem concerned as he plops down next to the new girl, sliding the box onto the table. "Hiya, Faithy! I gotcha a present!" Wow. How much extra Boston accent did you just ladle onto that sentence?

New girl's head whips around as Jack sits down. She glances at the box and then looks at him with a mix of confusion and a touch of fear. Something is clearly wrong. Oz looks freaked too. He reaches out and takes the top off of the box. He and Willow peer in and their faces go pale. Jack doesn't seem to see any of this, still smiling at the New Girl. Faithy I think he called her? Faith maybe?

Willow stutters out, "Is that... a... human heart?"

The scoobs start to look violently upset. Faith explodes, clearly bothered by Jack's continued smiles, or maybe it's the heart. Would a human heart bother a vampire girl? "Dude! What the fuck!?"

Jack just nods happily, "Yup. I cut it out of this bastard named Kakistos. And that platter is real silver too." He says that kakistos word like it's important, still staring at Faith. That means 'worst' in Greek... I think? I think he's trying to look encouraging?

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" I think the Scoobs all managed to sync up for that one. Everyone looks a touch confused now. Except for Faith... She's staring wide eyed at Jack, looking shell-shocked.

That finally gets his attention, Jack's head whipping around to glare at them. "You try finding out that you have a sister you never knew about." He points at Faith, "And at the same time finding out that she's been chased across the country by a vampire older than fucking dirt who wants to try and rape her to death! I think my response was ENTIRELY appropriate!" Wow. Even I have to double check to make sure his fangs aren't out for that last part.

Jack's so focused on the scoobs for that short couple of seconds that he misses Faith's arms reaching out to grab his head.

---

A/N - For anyone who isn't just re-reading this, I should probably mention that this and the following interlude chapters are all an experiment with 'Scene from multiple POVs' that I was trying out back in the day. I think it successfully cleared up a lot of the "why are the Scoobies all being assholes?" questions, and established that Jack's opinions about people are meant to be be his opinions rather than bashing, but some folks found it annoying. If that's you, then know that light at the end of the tunnel is coming from the end of chapter 19.