#abelharrington

Pete/Abel: Pete snorted as he looked over. "Well good morning to you, too."

Abel grinned at MJ's choice in attire and attempted to discreetly take a photo. "We were talking about how Petey won't stop showering to get to Umbra lube off even though it was off after the first shower."

MJ: "How many fuckin' showers ya had, man?" He spotted that phone going up, but said nothing. Too busy scratching random itches in his unwashed hair.

Pete: "Just finished number four. That stuff got everywhere and I have a lot of hair now."

MJ: Only a passing thought - one drowned purposefully with banging cymbals and snares to keep Abel out.

Best not to say anything out loud.

"Anyone heard from Guildias - or yelled at from Callum?"

Pete/Abel: Abel didn't have to peek into MJ's head or hear him say anything to know where that brain of his was; MJ's expression was more than enough.

Pete nodded. "Yep, heard from Callum this morning. He's got lots of questions and steaks he's grilling for us."

MJ: "We get steaks? Shit. Should chop the other arm off."

Pete: Another nod. "File that under things we are not going to say to the man whose husband we returned missing a crucial limb. I'm guessing the dinner offer was so he'd have something to do with his hands while we talked."

MJ: "How'd he sound? They both gonna be there?"

Pete: "Frazzled, and yeah, I think so."

MJ: "Guess I'll take a shower. Be back in five."

Abel: “Enjoy!” Abel called after him, grinning to himself. “Oh, all these are keepers.” He sent off the photos to their group chat with Xavier.

MJ: There would be some all caps in that room soon enough, but for now the group chat would be spared. That is until after his hair had partially dried. Didn't have to ask where the towels were; this had once been his second home.

{Text} I FUCKING KNEW IT

Pete/Abel: Abel would be heard dissolving into laughter downstairs.

{Text from Abel} I HAD TO

{Text from Xavier} Very dashing, Aquaman

Pete, meanwhile, had gone into his room to dress and run a comb through his hair. Jeans, sweater, spritz of his usual cologne, and he was ready to go.

MJ: Wasn't long before the bathroom door opened, steam escaping. Hair still damp and spiked; clothes sticking to his body. The scent of Peter's shampoo and soap would cling for days. No complaint. And certainly nothing to protest, catching Peter's cologne in the air. Like a magnet; had to clutch the sink as he finger-brushed his teeth.

{Text} You're goddamn right

"Y'all ready?"

Pete/Abel: "Ready!" Pete called from his room. "We need to stop by the bakery first though. I ordered a pie to take over to Callum's for dessert."

"We're bribing Callum for forgiveness!" Abel shouted.

MJ: "N'here I was thinkin' liquor would be Scottish approved."

Just needed to find his boots and he would actually be ready.

"Guess you're drivin', Peter."

Pete/Abel: "Planning on it," he said, grabbing his keys and wallet. "I give Cal liquor all the time. A pie holds more meaning and goes really great with steak and potatoes."

"It does!" Abel agreed. "Hurryyyyyyyyyyyy, I'm starviiiiiiiing."

MJ: "Don't that bird say the same thing? Are all familiars just starvin' t'death?"

Abel: "I barely ate lunch in anticipation of stuffing my face with steak and pie!"

MJ: He wished he could relate. Just not the same, anymore.

"Pie it is. I'll get him a bear claw." A grin and a wink later, he was out the door - bootlace untied three feet later. Time to hop on one foot to remedy.

Pete: Pete just smiled and shook his head. “You’re gonna fall over,” he said to MJ. “We have enough time for you to stop and tie your shoe. Abel’s just rushing because he’s hungry.”

He slid into the car and started the engine. “Who’s got shotgun?”

MJ: One more hop and he was making a run for the passenger seat.

"I do. Abel can hang his head out the window. Ya know, like a dog."

Abel: Abel’s face lit with quick and brilliant delight. “Dude, you’re right. I never get a chance to do that!”

He jumped in the back seat and quickly rolled down the window before transforming into his animal form and sticking his head out. He was ready.

MJ: "He really fuckin' did it," he muttered. "Kay, well, we're ready." And unlike usual road rules, MJ assumed the prestigious role of DJ. Country music, of course.

Pete: “He’s a dog,” Pete chuckled. “It’s in his doggie DNA, like when I scratch my back against a tree trunk.”

Country would never be his favorite but he didn’t mind it so much when MJ played it. Maybe because he knew how much MJ liked it.

Instead of turning toward the river, he turned toward the center of town. “Is there anything else we wanna pick up?”

MJ: "'Sides bear claws 'n pie? What's really, really Scottish? 'Sides, ya know, scotch?"

Pete: “Kilts? Haggis? Bagpipes?”

MJ: "Can't get any of that shit here."

Pete: “Well, he already has the kilt and he probably has stuff to make haggis.”

MJ: "Ya tellin' me he ain't got bagpipes?"

Pete: “His cousin Donal’s the piper, not him.”

MJ: "We should get him some, anyway."

Pete: “Where are we supposed to get bagpipes in Edenton?” he laughed.

MJ: "Abel can poof away n'get one," he laughed.

Abel: ‘But piiiiiiie!’ Abel thought to him.

MJ: "You'll still get your pie!" MJ returned out loud.

Abel: ‘Where in Scotland do I even get bagpipes?’

MJ: "A music store, bro."

Abel: ‘Google one that has bagpipes and think the address to me.’

MJ: 'Why ya quiet all sudden?'

Abel: ‘I’m in dog form, remember?’

MJ: 'Fuckin',' MJ glanced back and laughed. 'Fuckin' forgot. Ya know what, we'll get him bagpipes for his birthday. Ya ain't even met him, have ya?'

Abel: ‘Wow, rude.’ Abel pulled his head back inside the car and scrambled into the front seat and into MJ’s lap.

‘Nope, not yet, which only makes it more awkward that I chopped Gil’s arm off.’

MJ: 'Yeah, leave that out when ya shake his hand. We'll see what "Gil" said when we get there.'

Pete/Abel: ‘Good call.’ Abel made himself comfortable and nudged MJ to roll down his window so the head-sticking-out could continue.

Pete was just smiling to himself as he pulled up in front of the bakery. He was learning that telepathic conversations were very amusing.

MJ: Fine. The window was rolled, and some head scritches as well. The act was an unspoken comfort.

Not a word from Peter in some time, but still he asked, "What cha laughin' at?"

Pete: “I’m not laughing,” said Pete. Although he did have a grin on his face. “Forgot how expressive you are.”

MJ: "What I do?"

Pete: “Emoted during your silent mind conversation with the pup.”

MJ: "Know everything 'bout everything, huh?"

Pete: “You were laughing and asking questions out loud,” he chuckled.

MJ: "Didn't notice." Not at first. He was too relaxed. "Figured he told ya what we do."

Pete: "Yep, he did. He thought a couple things to me and it's super weird and also super cool."

MJ: "Still think y'all talked 80 miles an hour. Was gone for like, ten minutes!" Not at all, but it had felt that way.

Pete: “We’ve had all day today, too,” Pete chuckled. “Most of the day, anyway.”

MJ: "Y'all bein' up late did nothin' t'y'all."

Abel: ‘We slept in!’ Abel thought to him. ‘And had lots of coffee.’

MJ: "Mm. No wonder you're hyper."

Abel: ‘Just a little bit. Most of it is excitement for dinner.’

MJ: "Listen here, Peter. The way t'a familiar's heart is food. Any familiar. All of em."

Pete: Pete snorted. "I'll keep that in mind if I ever need to bribe Abel."

MJ: "Mmhmm. He'll just eat that shit up." Have some more scritches.

Pete/Abel: The only thing Abel was currently eating up was pets from MJ, something he would’ve pointed out if he weren’t enjoying them quite so much.

“Well, we’ll get him fed soon enough,” Pete said as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the bakery. “I’ll be quick.”

MJ: "Wait wait wait, comin' with." Abel was carried as he got out, placed in the passenger seat. "Bear claw n'shit. Want somethin'?" He looked to the dog expectantly.

Pete/Abel: ‘A cream puff!’ Abel all but mentally yelled, tail wagging madly. ‘Or three.’

Pete came around to the passenger’s side and reached in through the window to pat Abel’s head. “We won’t be long. Be good and don’t talk to strangers.”

MJ: "Think he'd give em trauma if he did." Peter was bumped shoulders with, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Ya know what I miss? Apple fritters."

Pete: Pete laughed and poked MJ in the ribs. “He would not. They’d be won over in seconds flat.”

He hummed as he opened the bakery door. “Oh man, and Laura makes a great one. Wanna get one so you can smell?”

MJ: "I might try n'eat it. Worth the up chuck? I miss churros, too." His mother's, specifically. No one had her beat. Not while he was alive. Now he'd never be able to tell.

Pete: “I would dare go so far as to say that Laura’s apple fritters are worth just about everything. Ask Bobby, they’re his hangover food.”

Laura was nowhere to be found when they entered, so Pete rang the bell on the counter to summon her. “What did Abel want?”

MJ: "Oh! Uh, he wanted - ya fuckin' - yeah, he wants a cream puff...sss."

Pete: “More than one, got it,” Pete chuckled. He rang the bell again. “Laura! You back there?”

“Pete?” came a woman’s voice from somewhere in the kitchen. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

“Just a sec, I’ve got your pie ready.”

“‘Kay. Got any cream puffs left?”

“I think there’s a few left in the case!”

Pete scanned the array of delicate pastries and cakes in the case and found what he was looking for.

“Abel’s in luck,” he said to MJ. “There’s five left.”

MJ: "Those'll be gone in thirty seconds." Didn't feel like an exaggeration, either. In truth, there had been no need to get out of the car; the excuse had been to help, but all he was doing was staring, pretending to be helpful, and pretending that this wasn't what it obviously was; it was about company.

Pete: Pete didn't mind the company one bit, nor did he mind going along with the excuse that it was all to be helpful. He enjoyed it and it was as simple as that.

"We'll take them!" he called to Laura. "What about bear claws?"

"How many?"

He looked expectantly to MJ.

MJ: Two fingers. One for an attempt and one as a gift for somebody. Anybody.

"Laura, got any churros?"

Pete: "Two bear claws!"

"Today's your lucky day." There were more sounds from the kitchen before Laura finally poked her head out. "Whose voice is--MJ Calloway! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

MJ: "Sore? Why them eyes sore?" She was friendly enough and casual enough for a one-armed hug. A squeeze for added measure. She was good people.

"Churros, Laura? Pleeease?"

Laura: “I iced sugar cookies most of the day,” she chuckled, squeezing back. “You’re as handsome as ever, which is why it breaks my heart to tell you I haven’t got any. But I can make you some tomorrow, how’s that?”

MJ: MJ just smiled, the same he would have given his mother. She had that kind of energy.

"I'll try n'be here tomorrow."

Pete: "I'll make you the best damn churros you've ever had, just you wait." She gave him one more squeeze. "Okay, so what all were we wanting besides the pie?"

"All the cream puffs you've got and the bearclaws," said Pete.

"Let me box it all up for ya'll."

MJ: "Thanks, Laura." Months apart felt like mere days with people in this town. It was a comfort and a mild annoyance. "I got it," said into Peter's ear. No trickery tonight. Laura would be getting a crisp bill in that kitchy tip jar.

Pete: "You're welcome, sweetie. What time are you coming by for those churros?"

Pete just smiled. At MJ, at the tip in the jar. Everything. "You're sweet," he whispered, accepting the bag full of goodies from Laura.

MJ: Yeah, he saw that smile, but what could he do about it? Just staring was loony, so he looked back to Laura. Had to calculate sunset. "When y'all close?"

Laura: "You don't worry about that. Just give me a window, come by, and knock on the door."

MJ: "How's nine sound?"

Laura: "Perfect. I'll have them ready for you at nine tomorrow night. Already looking forward to making them instead of being hunched over more cookies."

MJ: "These friggin' counters are way too low for ya. Gotta hire someone, I dunno, this tall?" he gestured.

Laura: “I do have someone,” she chuckled. “For now, anyway. She’s icing the other half of the ten billion cookies.”

MJ: "Makin' your daughter ice cookies is free labor, ma'am."

Pete: “I’ve got my daughter cutting out the cookies and someone else icing them.”

“Logan?” Pete asked.

“Yep. She’s good at the fiddly detail stuff.”

MJ: "Do I know Logan?"

Pete: Pete considered any situations where the two of them could've crossed paths. "Maybe...? She works here with Laura, at the church, babysitting around town. She lives in one of the rental cabins out in the woods."

MJ: MJ had to temper a look of disgust. Church? Babysitter? But he knew the rental cabins. Lived right next to them.

"Maybe." He left it at that. Smiled warmly at Laura.

"Be seein' ya, Laura!"

Pete/Abel: "Tomorrow at nine!" she said, smiling back. "Ya'll drive safely and enjoy that pie!"

Pete just laughed. "Some of us are dying to eat it. Thanks again, Laura."

And back to the car, where a very eager Abel was half-hanging out the window waiting for them.

MJ/Guildias: "Who's a good boy?!" Abel was given some obnoxious petting before opening the door. A cream puff for the road before parking at Callum MacGillivray's front yard.

Guildias was all but flat against the couch, enjoying the various scents of Callum's cooking. Already several inches had added length to his shoulder, still hidden underneath clothing.

"Come here and sit in my lap." A hand came up from behind the couch. "I feel you."

Callum: Only three of the five people that would be eating dinner in his house tonight were actually going to eat, but Callum was cooking as if all five would be eating. The process, which he normally enjoyed for its own sake, was distracting him from thinking about his husband’s arm.

And he very much needed that distraction right now.

Callum did a quick check of everything in the stove and went over to the couch.

“Do you feel me or do you feel the wheels turnin’ in my head?” he wondered as he took his husband’s hand.

Guildias: "Palpably," he answered. "Choose whichever." Callum was tugged closer, kissed softly and lingered.

"Tell me why and I'll help you."

Callum: Callum dissolved into the kiss and into the offered lap. “Do you have to ask? This is the first time in my entire life ye’re no’ reachin’ for me with both hands because you have no choice.”

Guildias: The druid's face was caressed, chin gently pinched.

"Because I made a choice. A simpler choice by comparison. It'll grow back, Daisy."

Callum: He nuzzled into Guildias’ hand. “I know but it’s still a shock. You left with both arms and came home missing one.”

Guildias: The shoulder moved subconsciously. Invisible hand intent on cupping his husband's face. Phantom movement, he realized in silent humor.

"I apologize for shocking you."

Callum: Guildias might not have been able to cup Callum's face, but Callum could cup his. And he did. "You don't have to apologize. I believe you when you say you made the best choice you could in that situation."

Guildias: "Best and simplest are hand-in-hand. I could have ripped the child from the roots, and the tree could have snapped his neck. My actions could have destroyed everything."

Callum: “And instead, that poor wee lad is back with his family where he belongs.”

He kissed his vampire’s cheek. “Better the tree have yer arm than you or Pete or the familiar.”

Guildias: "Then I'm forgiven?" he smirked.

Callum: “We’ll see how it goes when yer arm grows back.”

Callum laughed softly and shook his head. “Just had to go and be a bunch of cowboys.”

Guildias: "I'll sup on you every night before sunrise." One last kiss, hearing an approach on the road. "Next time we might bring you."

Callum: "Aye, do that." Callum let himself get lost in the moment for as long as he could before getting to his feet. "Next time you better hope there isn't a next time. I don't know what too many trips into the Veil does to a person but I can't imagine it's anythin' good."

Guildias: "Witches and fera seem to know more. More welcome. Have to ask one of them."

Callum: He thought for a moment. “How did you feel when you were in there, minus the obvious and the slime?”

Guildias: "Have you ever walked into a room disallowed to you? Say, as a child?"

Callum: Callum nodded. "Aye, my uncle's weapon room. Lightly touched one o' the blades, cut my hand like he always said I would, and to this day I haven't told him."

Guildias: "The same feeling. Unwelcome. Peter might have nightmares, but without him, I doubt the outcome would have been the same."

Callum: "I can't imagine how it could've been worse." Although he supposed the tree could've eaten them outright or the portal could've simply rejected them, forbade them entry.

From that perspective, a missing arm was a very small price to pay.

"Well, we're goin' to feed him comfort food so hopefully that doesn't happen."

Guildias: "I'm sure there's science behind that."

Callum was fastened by his waist as he rose into a sitting position.

"Did you invite Rosmond?"

Callum: "I'm invitin' him tomorrow. I've got some silk flowers I want to scent for him." Peonies and lilacs. Just because Rosmond couldn't have real flowers didn't mean he couldn't have any flowers.

Callum chuckled. "Ye've got to let me up, husband mine."

Guildias: "When they knock on the door," he insisted. "One more kiss." Not at all a question. He would take what he desired and smile before doing it.

Callum: Callum grinned against his husband’s lips. He could take all the kisses he wanted. “Have as many as you like but have them while walking with me to the stove so my gravy doesn’t burn.”

Guildias: "We can't have that." Callum was lifted with Guildias to his feet. Legs dangling as he continued to carry the druid until parked at the stove.

"He would have been awkward. Stoic in his corner, watching everyone, saying nothing. You made the right choice," Guildias smirked.

Callum: He clung to his husband like a koala, fully confident Guildias would be able to carry him even with his missing arm.

“He’s no’ one for crowds, is Rosmond. He’s a man of few words, like my great uncle Roderick.”

Guildias: Callum was a kind, idiosyncratic soul. To have kept such a good rapport with someone like Rosmond was not as much surprising as it was curious.

"Have you kept in contact with Mason Atlas?"

Callum: It was like flipping a switch. His smile fell and his face set in grim lines.

“No,” he said as he stirred the gravy. “I have nothin’ to say to or about him.”

Guildias: "Have you kept the ring?"

Callum: “I gave it back to Dahlia.”

Guildias: "I don't recall you flying to England."

Callum: “I didn’t. I planted a dahlia for her by the river and buried the ring beside it in a wooden box.”

Guildias: "You're not curious at all of the life that was once yours?"

Callum: “No. I already know how that story ends.”

Guildias: "You've quite literally buried it."

Callum: “It’s her ring. She should have it back. She and her family are buried in sterile boxes in a sterile graveyard where nature can’t find them. That’s no’ the way Druids do things.”

Guildias: "Were you, Dahlia, a druid?"

Callum: “Dahlia wasn’t a Druid, I am, and I don’t like the way she was buried or this conversation. Can we please drop it?”

Preferably for the rest of my life, he added silently to himself.

Guildias: Ah. The button had been pressed. Guildias adjusted his shades and nodded his submission. Opposing points-of-view were nothing new in this relationship. Just as quietly, he headed to the front door.

Pete/Callum: Callum disliked the subject of Dahlia, disliked the subject of her husband even more, and he absolutely hated being ambushed with either.

He gathered up the platter of marinated steaks and went out to put them on the grill, not quite slamming the back door but coming close.

Around front, Pete was just pulling up to the house.

“We’re here,” he said. “Remember to look contrite and apologetic, everyone.”

MJ/Guildias: "Hey, I didn't do shit!" MJ laughed. But he had enough reason to play respectful. Head bow and all.

Guildias took to the porch swing; lit cigarette between his fingers.

Pete/Abel: ‘I should change back,’ Abel thought to MJ, crossing back over to the backseat. It was easier to get into someone’s good graces as a dog, but it was far more polite to show up to dinner for the first time at someone’s house as a person.

“Still,” Pete said with a smile, getting out of the car and shooting Guildias a wave. “We come bearing pie!”

MJ/Guildias: MJ turned with Abel and watched, turned back to Peter and - forgot what he was going to say again. A shrug would do.

"To soothe the beast?" Guildias asked from his lounge.

MJ made an opening for Abel's escape.

Pete/Abel: "For dessert, but also for that. Is he really that upset?" Hell, maybe they should've brought the scotch.

Abel, back in human form, eased himself out of the car. He gave his hair a finger comb, straightened his clothes, and gave a wave to Guildias. "Hey, Gil! How's the arm?"

Guildias: "Nothing a best friend can't resolve." Which was where he intended to leave the subject. Just the right amount of vague. The stub of his humerus was waved in their direction. Bigger than yesterday.

Pete/Abel: "I think you growing your arm back will do that better than I can." Pete grabbed the bakery boxes and headed inside to take them into the kitchen.

While he did that, Abel came closer to examine Guildias' shoulder. "Damn, that's not bad for one day. Can you feel it grow? Does it hurt? Did you feel any weird effects from the lube?"

Guildias: "Always admired curiosity. Keep feeding it." Abel was allowed to touch; the sleeve of his shirt was rolled for better examination.

"Growing pains are indeed real. It's an itch, rather than discomfort."

Abel: “The world feeds it for me, my guy. I feel like an itch would drive me crazier than pain. Have you asked Callum if he’s got anything to help?” Druid magic was all about healing; surely there was something.

Guildias: "I'm outside of his area of expertise. Besides, my heart does not beat."

Abel: “Still, couldn’t hurt to ask. Speaking of which.” Abel did a twirl. “Do I look presentable to meet your husband and apologize for removing your arm?”

Guildias: "As far as he's concerned, this was self-inflicted." Based on an umbrella retelling of the entire ordeal, and having been his idea, this was his to own.

Abel: “Sooo, do you want me to not tell him?”

Guildias: "You were brave. You rescued the child; you're a clever hero." Concise and clean.

Abel: “You wanna spare the gory details, okay fair enough. I’m still going to apologize though, in a general sort of way, because we did bring you back without an arm and I feel bad about that. Also, do your animals like other animals?”

Guildias: "Callum's pets play well - if they don't, they'll let you know." Guildias gestured inside. "Allow Peter to introduce you."

Abel: “Good to know.” He was making lots of first impressions today and he wanted to make them all count.

“You’re not coming in?”

Guildias: He gestured the cigarette between his fingers. "I won't be long. Please. Make yourself at home."

Abel: “All right then.”

Abel’s first impression upon entering the house was that it smelled fucking amazing. Something beautiful was happening in the kitchen and he needed to get in on it. Unfortunately, he only made it a couple of steps inside before he was stopped by a long-haired white cat.

Abel crouched to be closer to eye level and held out a hand for sniffing. This guy lived with another dog, so surely the scent of one wouldn’t bother him too much. And his owner was someone with magic, so surely the scent of that wouldn’t bother him too much either.

Apparently he was right on both counts, because he was allowed to pet and to pass after being inspected.

He repeated the process a few steps later with the dog (to the dog’s utter delight) before finally making it into the kitchen for introductions.

Guildias: Callum could be kind when required by social norms. Being in the presence of Peter would ice the heat administered by their conversation. The last of his cigarette was allowed to die a cold death before returning inside.

"I should hate to have missed much," he greeted.

Pete/Abel: Callum had gone out to check on the steaks but everyone else was gathered around the counter.

Abel turned to Guildias with an armful of cat and a giant smile. “I went through the Gauntlet of Pets and was accepted into the fold.”

Pete was grinning as well. “The one leg up he has on Jolly is that Jolly can’t scratch behind Prospero’s ears.”

Guildias: "So I see. Have you been offered a drink?"

Pete/Abel/Callum: “Yep, we have.” Pete nodded toward the beers on the counter. He gave Guildias a look that said there was something on his mind, but he wouldn’t bring it up. Not right now.

Callum came back in looking perfectly and determinedly pleasant. “He’ll never let you put him down if he has his way,” he said to Abel. “He likes bein’ held.”

“I don’t mind holding him. He’s so soft. How are you so soft?” he asked the cat. “Tell me, I must know.”

MJ/Guildias: Guildias locked eyes. A second-long stare of silence. Whatever Peter felt or knew, now was neither the time nor the place for verbalizing.

MJ had taken to the kitchen counter. Legs dangling with dead weight, beer between his hands as though it was a viable option for his stomach. He found himself too quiet. He couldn't seem to help it. Right now he was just observing.

"When you tire of him, he'll find a home on my shoulders," said Guildias.

Abel/Callum: Abel gasped. “He’s a shoulder cat?!”

Callum laughed. “Shoulder, arm, lap. He’s a clingy cat is what he is.”

“You’re clingy and soft!” Abel told Prospero. “You’re a clingy, soft boy and I love you. Ahhh, he’s purring!”

Callum laughed again. His mood seemed to be improving. “Steaks won’t be too long.”

MJ: "Puss puss," MJ tisked at the elegant cat. A big of blue string materialized from his fingertip, dangled just shy of the cat's face.

Prospero: MJ instantly got Prospero’s attention. Ears and eyes were on full alert as he watched the string move back and forth for a few moments before making a grab at it with his paws.

MJ: "Nope! Gotta be faster than that, lil man." Just out of reach again. Dangled low enough afterward to touch the tip of his pink nose.

Pete/Callum: Prospero wiggled out of Abel's hold to better pursue the string, batting at it like a kitten.

"So easy to entertain," Callum chuckled, checking all the pots he had on the stove. "Pete, you want to help me set the table?"

"You got it."

Guildias: Guildias would keep his distance, watching the Ravnos with only mild entertainment. One string eventually became two. A cream-colored feather suddenly tied to the end of the little yarn.

Abel: The cat was over the moon with wide-eyed excitement, and completely distracted from all the enticing smells in the kitchen. He had many dangling things to chase and hunt and play with! His full attention was on them and on MJ by extension.

Abel was grinning like a loon. "Wish you could hear his inner monologue," he said to Guildias, giggling. "Such a happy boy."

Guildias: "I didn't expect your telepathy to extend to animals."

Abel: "Yep!" Abel confirmed cheerfully. "I'm an animal, after all. Doesn't work on every animal though. Tried talking to some ants and worms and other bugs. Nothing."

Guildias: "I can't say I'm well versed in your kind. I had assumed your power only to reach your master."

Abel: "Nope, most familiars can communicate with other animals, with the greatest success obviously being with their own kind. Me, I'm a dog, so I can have full conversations with other dogs. Communicating with other animals takes more work and concentration."

Guildias: "You would make an excellent spy. Though I can only guess how many of you are under the protection and rule of a Tremere."

Abel: "Oh! That's one of the clans, right?" His knowledge, though greater than it had been prior to having a vampiric best friend, was limited at best. "Which ones are they?"

MJ/Guildias: "Mages, in simplest terms. Their secrets are more guarded than their loved ones."

"More like a damn cult," MJ muttered.

Abel: Abel nodded sagely. "Makes sense that mages would have familiars, and that familiars would be drawn to them. Most people think we only gravitate to witches but that's just not true. It's magic that calls to us. Anyone who has it is pretty much fair game."

Guildias: "That's beautiful," Guildias said with pure sincerity.

Abel: His smile was as sincere as Guildias' words. He should've figured that someone like this vampire wouldn't find it odd that a familiar would choose anyone with magic.

Abel had a feeling Gil had appreciation for all sorts of things most people thought were weird.

"You're a peach, Gil, don't ever forget it. I think it's beautiful, too."

Guildias: "You're giving me many firsts, and perhaps more before we part ways." But now he had to excuse himself, see to his husband and whatever help he could offer with a single hand.

Callum: Callum's attention was split several ways at the moment. Setting the table, keeping an eye on the steaks and the rest of the food, watching Prospero play, and listening to Guildias' and Abel's conversation.

Cute as his cat was, the conversation was the most intriguing. But not just because of the subject matter.

"Gil?" he said when his husband was close enough.

Guildias: "You found us out," said Guildias, in gentle humor. "I've been given many nicknames, including peach. Will you forgive me?"

Callum: "They suit you." Casual looked good on his vampire. "Will I forgive you for what?"

Guildias: "For earlier," he whispered, kissed Callum's temple.

Callum: Callum smiled softly at the affection. The irritation had passed and he wasn’t about to force it back just to hold onto it.

“Ye’re forgiven. Gil.”

Guildias: "Now, if you keep that up, I might have something to say to you," he purred.

Callum: He chuckled and turned to kiss Guildias’ cheek. “Remind me to say it again later.”

Guildias: "We shall see. For now, where can I assist?"

Callum: “Can you grab the wine from the counter? Already opened it to let it breathe.”

MJ/Guildias: "How accommodating." Their little dinner party would feel smoother from this moment forward.

"Hey, I gotta question for ya," MJ called to Callum.

Callum: Callum turned to MJ. "What is it? If it's about Prospero starin' mournfully at you from his food bowl, he's already eaten and wants seconds, don't fall for it."

MJ: "He just wants a live fish like what ya caught - I dunno when. But I wanna know 'bout somethin' else."

Callum: “I’ll take him fishin’ tomorrow. What do you want to know about?”

MJ: "What makes a druid?"

Callum: “What makes a Druid in the abstract or what makes one literally?”

MJ: "First one then the other."

Callum: “What makes a Druid is Fae magic. We are essentially the halfway point between Faerie and human. They created us.”

MJ: MJ looked off at nothing, nodding. He opened his mouth - closed. Not quite sure where to take his question next.

Callum: Callum studied him for a moment. “You don’t look satisfied with my answer. Were you expectin’ somethin’ more?”

MJ: "Guess I could ask why they made ya, but how'd ya fuckin' know."

Callum: “We all know. We’re taught from a verra early age that we were created to heal, nurture, and protect the earth and those who live here.”

MJ: "What are ya, Guardians of the Galaxy?"

Callum: “Just healers, mate,” he chuckled. “A few gifted among us are Seers as well.”

MJ: "Fae give a shit enough t'do all that?"

Callum: “They gave us the Legos, we do the buildin’.”

MJ: "Sounds chaotic like em, I guess."

Callum: “Aye, it is at that. Every once in a great while, they’ll pay us a visit and offer one of us immortality. In my tribe, the last time it happened was over three hundred years ago.”

MJ: "Huh. I'll throw your name n'the hat next visit." But he was avoiding the question he intended to ask. Let this peter off, for now. Maybe after dinner he'd try again, in private.

Pete/Callum: Callum smiled. "Appreciate the vote of confidence." Although he doubted he'd ever be offered that particular gift and even if he was, he didn't think he'd be inclined to accept.

But that was something to mull another time, perhaps along with whatever was really on MJ's mind.

"Steaks are ready!" Pete called.

MJ: MJ would leave it there, then, so long as Callum followed along. The vampires would dine discreetly, participating in their own way. The Ravnos would sandwich himself between Abel and Peter.

Abel/Callum: To go with the steak, Callum had put together a salad, garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans, and even some mac and cheese. He’d even made some dinner rolls.

Like his aunt Kenna, he cooked when there was a lot on his mind.

Needless to say, Abel was in absolute heaven. “Oh man, Cal,” he said around a bite of steak. “You outdid yourself, this steak is unstoppable.”

Guildias: "You've fed a puppy. He'll never go home to his master again," Guildias smiled. A subtle wink to said puppy.

Abel/Callum: "Hey, they feed me at home, too!" But rarely did Christine prepare so much pure comfort food for one meal, unless Xavier wanted pastry of course.

Callum chuckled. "Ye're welcome any time, mate. Can't promise I'll always have a spread like this though."

"No one ever does," Abel said sadly, taking a huge bite of mac and cheese. "Something about health or whatever."

MJ: "S'called soul food for a reason," said MJ. "What's good for the body ain't necessarily good for the soul n'vice versa. But, if I recollect, BBQ's good for the soul, too. Should do that next time." If there would be a next time.

Abel: Abel nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Petey also told me about Carolina hot dogs and I wanna try those, too. Who needs health, I have magic.”

MJ: "Who cares 'bout health when ya live forever," MJ chuckled.

Pete/Abel: "Exactly."

Pete just shook his head. "Anything to eat mac and cheese and steak every day, huh?"

"...Maybe," said Abel. "What about you, Gil? Back when you ate food what did you like?"

Guildias: "Ceviche," Guildias replied without hesitation. "My father was no cook; Argentinian cuisine took priority over my mother's German heritage."

Pete: “You know who makes really good ceviche?” said Pete. “June. Maybe I should do that thing Abel does and ask her to make some so you can smell it.”

Guildias: "You really needn't bother. I haven't made attempt with seafood in decades. I would rather leave it to memory, or forever have it spoiled by current reality."

Abel: Abel reached over to pat Guildias’ arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat some in your honor. You can live vicariously.”

Guildias: "How gracious of you, pup."

Abel/Callum: "We're friends now, Gil! That's what friends do." Abel toasted Guildias with a bite of steak. "This one's for you, buddy."

Callum ducked his head to hide a grin. It was strange--and lovely--to see someone being so relentlessly cheerful and casual with his husband.

Guildias: "Be sure that is an especially bloody piece, or it would be a waste." Guildias didn't mind, truly. He was nothing if not adaptable.

"You all seemed to have recovered well since the incident," he continued.

Pete/Abel: "This one wasn't but the next one will be."

Pete shook his head at Abel. "We're no worse for the wear," he said to Guildias. "Got the slime scrubbed off and a little boy back where he belongs. You don't look so bad yourself for a man with one arm."

Guildias: What remained of his arm moved with the other, as though present and accounted for.

"See me again next week and I might be in condition for a warm embrace."

Pete: Pete studied the remnants of Guildias’ arm. “Does it…how does it feel? Regrowing a limb. Does it hurt or itch?”

Guildias: "An itch I refuse to scratch."

Pete/Callum: "Is there anything you can do?" he asked, turning to Callum.

Callum shook his head. "Nothin' that would help much. I could maybe give him some relief for the itchin' but it would only last a little while since the arm is growin' continuously. If it grew in stages then maybe."

Guildias: The entirety of a body, two, perhaps, might advance his healing significantly. Not something he wanted this band of misfits to consider.

"I'll be fine. Just give me time."

Abel: "Shame it isn't Halloween any time soon," Abel mused. "You would make a great Captain Hook. You even have a dog named Jolly Roger!"

Guildias: "Are you suggesting I rip my hand off in October, Abel?"

Abel: “No, absolutely not. I just wish it was October now. But that’s okay, we’ve got lots of time to figure out costumes.”

Guildias: "I met a Nosferatu that could lose his limbs on will. Did so as a practical joke."

Abel/Callum: “Could he grow them back just as easily?” Callum wondered while the mental image made Abel go into a laughing fit.

Guildias: "Just as easily, that we were aware. Shook the hand of a ghoul once just to lose his hand. The shock, I believe, never quite wore off."

Pete/Abel: Imagining that happening to him had Pete shuddering and wanting to never shake another hand again. “I don’t think it would for me either. It would scare the fuck out of me.”

Abel tried to compose himself. “Did the vampire laugh his ass off?”

Guildias: "Of course he did. This is a Nosferatu we speak of. There was no higher form of comedy."

Abel/Callum: “Oh man, I bet it was. That poor ghoul but I mean…” He dissolved into more laughter. It was horrible but it was so fucking funny.

“What happened to the Nosferatu?” Callum asked. “Do you keep in touch?”

Guildias: "Somewhere in Chicago still, I imagine. His sect frowns upon modern technology. A cell phone would be out of the question."

Pete: “Could he have one if he wanted?” Pete asked. “Or is it against the rules in addition to being frowned upon?”

Guildias: "The Camarilla is a headache of contradictions. I imagine he would have a laptop, or disposable phone - hidden. Well hidden. If not, a reason which might keep his head."

Abel: Abel made a face. “Bureaucracy’s always a headache. For humans, for vampires, for everyone. Why does anyone put up with it? Are they allowed to just…leave it?”

Guildias: "Perhaps it is not to your attention, Abel, that the majority of vampires in Edenton are not Camarilla. We're known as Independents. The intricacies of their politics are of little interest to me. I cannot answer your questions."

Abel: “Good for you,” Abel said with a sage nod. “You don’t need to put up with all that. I’m sure it’s a hot mess. It’s like that thing Isabel says about having your party in peace. Sounds better in Spanish.”

MJ/Guildias: "Another familiar?"

MJ glanced at Abel, scrolled through his phone for a funny meme for Peter.

Abel: Abel caught the glance and remembered himself before he gave away more than he should.

“She’s a friend of ours. Human but knows a little about the supernatural. She’s helping MJ learn Spanish.”

MJ: "Fuck you 'learn Spanish' she's helping me improve."

Pete/Abel: Abel snorted. “My bad, she’s helping MJ improve his Spanish.”

Pete chuckled. “Yeah? How much has it improved?”

MJ: "I don't sound Mexican anymore." Much to the distaste of the majority of Spanish speakers in America, but oh well. His mother was from Spain. He wanted to honor that.

Abel: “Isabel is Mexican,” Abel explained at Pete and Callum’s confused looks. “She was hoping he’d get in the habit of speaking Mexican Spanish instead of Spain Spanish.”

MJ: "¡No, ni por pienso!" Her determination only aided his own. He looked absolutely offended at the very idea.

Pete/Abel: “MJ’s sticking to his Spanish guns. I only know the swear words but I’m impressed either way.”

“It’s very impressive,” Pete said with a smile. “Learning another language is hard. At least you have someone close at hand to practice with.”

MJ: "Aren't you practically French now?"

Pete: “Let’s call it honorary French. After all, I do make a mean omelette.”

MJ: "Oh wait I know this one! From Dexter's Laboratory. Omelette du fromage!" MJ laughed.

Pete/Abel: Now it was Pete who snorted. “I completely forgot about that show! But yes, du fromage and everything else.”

Abel cleared his throat. “Since MJ can’t eat I bravely volunteer on his behalf to try this mean omelette you make, Petey.”

MJ/Guildias: "Yeah. Make him somethin' French," the vampire grinned.

Guildias looked to Callum. "Will you allow this now? Might be entertaining."

Callum: Callum just laughed. “If Abel thinks he can fit an omelette as well as this feast and the pies then by all means. Pete can have the run o’ the kitchen.”

MJ/Guildias: "So it's true then," Guildias said to himself.

"If you're gonna demand an omelette, ya better help him make it," said MJ, gesturing to the kitchen.

Pete/Abel: “I’ll help!” Abel said brightly. After today he would have no defense if anyone called him a bottomless pit but he couldn’t say he minded all that much.

“All right,” Pete laughed. “But I’m finishing my dinner first. Then we can entertain the peanut gallery here.”

MJ: MJ just smiled and stretched back. Another meal he'd be avoiding, wondering if the scent would either appeal or nauseate.

"Y'all with stomachs done?"

Pete/Abel/Callum: “You have a stomach, too,” Pete laughed. “Just doesn’t get a whole lot of use. But yes, just about.” He could go for some more potatoes but he wanted to save some room for dessert whenever he got to it.

“What do you want in your omelette, Abe?”

“Cheese!”

“Got any gruyere?” Pete asked Callum.

“I might do. Have a look in the fridge.”

MJ: "Just cheese?" A brow arched. "Oh, hey, ya could but some o'the dinner in it," MJ grinned.

Pete/Abel: "I'd explode!" Abel laughed. "Eggs are like jello, always room for them."

Pete just shook his head. "French omelettes are a lot simpler than American ones, anyway."

MJ: MJ made a face. Couldn't eat it; could still judge it. "I've seen em. Lil rolled up things with a single chive on top."

Pete/Abel: “Abel can have as many chives as he likes,” Pete said with a grin.

The familiar beamed. “Abel would like them mixed into the egg, please.”

“We better get going then. You grate cheese and I’ll deal with the eggs.”

MJ/Guildias: Kindred were left with empty hands by design. MJ watched from a comfortable seat, leaning towards Guildias' shoulder, thoughtful of the idea of a vampiric chef. A notion which amused both. Concepts such as this often came to mind on long stretches of road. Professional surfers, hematologist, and firefighter had also crossed his mind.

Pete/Abel: Having made this so for so many crack-of-dawn breakfasts, Pete made quick and easy work of the omelette. He finished whisking up the eggs long before Abel finished doing battle with the cheese, even after chopping up the chives Abel had requested.

“What are ya’ll thinking over there?” He asked over his shoulder.

MJ/Guildias: "Nothin'," said MJ.

"Contemplating the poetry of irony," said Guildias.

Pete/Abel: “The poetry of French omelette making?”

Abel snorted. “I feel like the French would appreciate that.”

Guildias: "If there is irony to be found," Guildias smiled.

Abel/Callum: “Tell you what there is to be found, Gil.” Abel stepped back to reveal a small mountain of shredded gruyere. “A whole lotta cheese.”

Callum laughed. “Ye’re goin’ to be so sick.”

Guildias: "It's been so long I can't say I recall the taste."

Pete/Abel: “Melty and creamy and delicious. I’ll enjoy it for MJ and for you.”

“So noble,” Pete chuckled, pouring the eggs into a pan and gently stirring in the cheese.

Just a few minutes later he was moving it onto a plate, carefully rolling it up, and placing that single chive on top.

“And done. How’s it look?” he asked Abel.

“Perfect! We could be in Paris. Where’s a fork, I need a bite of this.”

MJ/Guildias: Guildias felt at his arm, squeezing rather than scratching the healing itch. More interested in observing his husband than Peter's culinary skills.

The opposite of MJ, eventually. Watching with arms on his knees, as though this had been his obsession all along.

"Needs ketchup," said MJ with a grin.

Abel/Callum: Guildias’ husband was watching the proceedings with great amusement and laughing at MJ’s comment.

“That is by far the most American thing you’ve ever said, mate.”

Abel was less amused but that quickly melted away as he took a bite of omelette. “Petey.” Another bite. “Well fucking done, sir.”

MJ: Sad to think all he would have of food such as this, eventually, would be memory. MJ wasn't about to let an omelette depress his evening, but still, the thought was there, and had been there for months. Something which Guildias had accepted years ago.

"Stick around, I got plenty more," MJ winked.

Pete/Abel/Callum: “Of that I have no doubt.”

Pete looked rather proud of himself watching Abel devour his creation, and boy did he ever.

The omelette was gone in less time than it took to make it.

“Does it pass muster then?” he chuckled.

Abel gave him a one-armed hug. “You’re my favorite.”

MJ: "Hey!" MJ laughed, caught off guard by the statement and how it made him feel. Multi-faceted jealousy is what it was.

Abel: “You got to be my favorite earlier when you let me ride with you and got me cream puffs! Then Cal had a turn when he made dinner. Now it’s Petey’s turn.”

MJ/Guildias: "Did Gil get a turn?" To which Guildias frowned at MJ. This nickname seemed designated to Abel.

Abel: “The night is young, my guy, the night is young. Oh! That story about the vampire dropping limbs like a lizard? Favorite person level story.”

Guildias: "If you've never seen a Nosferatu, they are especially gruesome. One could compare him to a lizard."

Abel: “Like in the movie or even more?”

Guildias: "Movie?"

Abel: “Yeah! You’ve never seen it? Came out in the 20s.”

Guildias: "I was rather busy in the 20s."

Abel: “I bet,” he chuckled. “It’s a silent horror film, you’ll love it.”

Guildias: "Perhaps I might find the time now."

Abel: “It’s not super long. Cal can find it on YouTube and you guys can make a date night out of it.”

Guildias: Guildias' watched the familiar with humor. Said something about the man, suggesting a romantic evening.

"I'm afraid I'm poor company at this time. Another time."

Abel/Callum: “Aye, another time,” said Callum, smiling at his husband. What a lovely idea. Already his mind was coming up with ideas to make the evening complete.

Abel nodded sagely. “Sure, gotta let all the weird Umbra energy dissipate. I myself am feeling very suspicious of trees still.”

MJ/Guildias: "Still ain't got shit idea on what the fuck y'all are talkin' about," MJ said.

MJ: A perfectly spherical glassy green orb appeared in Ramsay's lap. From behind, MJ had slowed to a near halt. Whatever reason Ramsay was here had yet been determined, but the man was on MJ's good side. Good or bad, the treatment was the same. The glass orb exploded into neon orange confetti and disappeared with a fanfare of a kazoo.

"Sup, sexy? What cha doin' here?"

Ramsay: Ramsay only had time to squint at the glass ball and wonder where it came from before it exploded confetti all over him. Loudly.

“Fucking shit!” he shouted, springing up like he was on fire.

Of course it was MJ.

Ramsay lobbed an acorn at him. “Having a bloody heart attack, no thanks to you,” he laughed.

MJ: "Ha!" Ramsay was given a pat on the cheek. "You'll live." For some reason that reminded him. "Ya know, love seein' your face, but why ain't your face Abel's face?"

Ramsay: “Also no thanks to you.”

Ramsay’s face lost its easy humor at MJ’s question. No getting around it now.

He took one last drag from his cigarette and stomped it out. “Abel’s face is indisposed. And speaking of faces.” He nodded toward the picnic table he’d been sitting on and lit another cigarette.

“Why don’t you take a seat, mate?”

MJ: "Sup?" Being told to sit down was a universal red flag, wasn't it? One that had him wanting to stand instead. Pillaring his position.

"Someone dead?"

Ramsay: Ramsay nodded. Even if MJ didn’t sit, he would. Heavy news needed a chair. Or a picnic table.

“You could say that, yeah.”

MJ: "Dead dead, or 'well shit' dead?"

Ramsay: “Latter.” Ramsay sighed. “Xavier ever mention his father to you?”

6:58 PM] MJ: So, Xavier. Or someone close to Xavier when...

"Just vague shit. Skip t'the end."

Ramsay: “The old man kidnapped Xavier and tortured him.”

There. Bandage ripped off.

MJ: "Kidnapped? Like, for random kidnap?" His method of coping rearing its head. Nitpicking at the details.

Ramsay: He shook his head. “Kidnap like he’s a psychopathic old tosser who had nothing better to do.”

MJ: "But he's like me. We're already dead, so... he's...?"

Ramsay: “In a new body. His old one was fucking destroyed.”

MJ: MJ just nodded, looking at the ground. "How long he have him?"

Ramsay: “I don’t fucking know, mate,” Ramsay sighed, shaking his head.

“Based on what I saw? Had to have been hours. But X ain’t talkin’.”

MJ: Just hours. Not days or - no, couldn't have been weeks. He would have known. He hadn't been gone that long.

"Let's go home."

Ramsay: MJ was taking it better than he’d been expecting, but then Ramsay hadn’t gone into detail. Nor would he.

What he saw in that church was something he would take to his grave. He and Rohan dealt with it so no one else had to, because it had to be done, and because they were equipped to do it.

The burden was theirs.

Ramsay nodded and put out his cigarette.

“Right then.” He got his tools and talismans out of his pockets and performed the spell that would carry them back to the manor.

MJ: Very different working with Ramsay's magic. Gave him time to dwell on what he was about to see. Xavier was the epitome of confidence and poise. The man only buckled once, and a handful of salt had been involved. Even at MJ's worst, yelling and split in two, Xavier had kept his resolve. And that had been with his brother involved. He could only imagine what he was about to walk in on.

And who better to comfort him? he thought. Not years in Hell, but weeks in his - Victoria's - basement. Piano wire through his hands and wrists and wrapped around his tendons like a bow. He knew pain. But he had to wonder if that lent anything here.

Ramsay's shoulder was given a squeeze. His first assumption was the bedroom, so that's where he was heading.

Ramsay/Rohan: Ramsay nodded, offering what passed for a smile as he watched MJ walk up the stairs. "Fuck the gods,” he sighed, lighting another cigarette and heading for the kitchen.

MJ's assumption was correct. Xavier was in his bedroom staring into the fire while Abel--in dog form--rested his head on his lap. The record player had been brought in so Mozart could attempt to lighten the mood.

Rohan, meanwhile, was waiting for MJ at the door.

MJ: Rohan was to be expected, just not so soon. Given his stance at the door, MJ was ready to argue his permission to pass. Argue, or push his old companion out of the way. He'd rather it not come to that.

"Got it from Ramsay," MJ whispered his greeting. "He's not talkin'?"

Rohan: MJ wouldn’t have to push or argue anything. Rohan had no intention to deny him entry or try to talk him out of seeing Xavier or anything else.

He shook his head. “No,” he whispered back. “He hasn’t said a word since Thursday when Abel brought him home.”

MJ: "What he say 'fore then?"

Rohan was given a once over. Not that this happened to him, but this was Rohan, and he was just short of an empath.

Rohan: One didn’t need to be an empath to feel the worry and exhaustion practically oozing out of Rohan’s pores. It had been a trying few days.

“Abel told us he said less than five words total. Nothing about what happened.”

MJ: "Why didn't y'all fuckin' call me? I coulda helped."

Rohan: “You’ll have to,” Rohan said quietly. “We haven’t buried him yet.”

MJ: "Buried, what?" A pause. "Y'all still got his old body? Why would y'all keep that?"

Rohan: “Christian’s body was his vessel for over fifty years, MJ. He deserves a decent burial or a dignified pyre, whichever Xavier decides.”

MJ: Guess Xavier would cross that bridge when he wanted to. For now, "Y'all got some magic woo-woo over the body or somethin'?"

Rohan: He nodded. “The body is at my cabin. We’re preserving it until Xavier is ready for a funeral.”

MJ: MJ pinched between his eyes. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this. There was a reason Rovena had chosen him as her Ravnos childe. His culture, his treatment of life and death was not the same as those in this house. Not that Calloways didn't have funeral traditions, but something about this put a thin layer of film over his body. Reminded him of the muck Abel and Peter had walked through crossing realms.

"I'm gonna walk in. Anything else I need t'know?"

Rohan: Rohan saw the frustration in that gesture but what could he do? This wasn’t up to him. Or for him for that matter.

“Yes. I need you to do me a favor.”

MJ: "Sup?" he asked, dropping his hands to his thighs.

Rohan: “I know it’s difficult but as much as you can…” He sighed. “Try not to look…surprised.”

MJ: MJ pointed his thumb to the door. "This man is still gonna dress like he's goin' t'the Ritz. Sits with me when I'm suckin' on a fuckin' bag of blood. He murders people for fun. Ya think I'm gonna gasp like a paid harlot when I see him?"

Rohan: “I don’t think that for a moment. But that man? He has a new face and try as we might it’s instinct to look surprised when we see a new face. He’s the same person, that hasn’t changed but his face has and the look he gave me when I first saw him and didn’t recognize him is going to haunt me until the day I die. He was crushed. So please. All I ask is that you try to lessen that instinct to look surprised so he doesn’t give you that look.”

MJ: "Did Abel not tell ya what happened to his face? It was Abel that found him, right?"

Rohan: Rohan nodded. “Yes he did. He found him and he told us what happened and I saw what happened.”

MJ: "But ya still didn't... figure the new faced dude was him?"

Rohan: “Instinct, MJ. I knew it was him but the face was different and I reacted. It was instinct.”

MJ: He'd already been playing human before arrival; the sigh suited the façade.

"You're always waitin' on the other side of doors."

Rohan: Rohan gave MJ a tired smile. “Today, guarding this door means guarding him. I’m his agent. Who’s going to guard him if not me?”

MJ: "The rest of the house. No one's gettin' in this place. Why don't ya go make yourself some tea."

Rohan: “The rest of the house doesn’t even know what’s happened. Just you and me and Abel and Ramsay.”

Rohan nodded and patted MJ on the shoulder. “I’ll do that. Abel’s in there with him.”

MJ: MJ straightened. "Fuckin' why? Where does Devlin think he's dad's been this whole time?"

Rohan: “They think he’s feeling ill which isn’t far off the mark. No one except us is allowed in these rooms for now.”

MJ: Hands covered his face for a long wipe down. "Thought everyone in this house knew he's a demon."

Rohan: “All except the seven year-old. And even if they do know, they’re human. They have human perspectives and their employer having a new body is a lot to digest.”

MJ: "They've fuckin' all watched Doctor Who. I think y'all are makin' this out bigger than it is. He's... He's Xavier. What matters is someone fucked with him n'they need their ass beat. What doesn't matter is what shape his nose is n'what color his eyes are."

Rohan: “Someone tortured him, MJ,” Rohan said softly. “His father tortured him and tore him out of his body and he was awake for all of it.”

MJ: "And that's what should fuckin' matter. Not him lookin' fuckin' different. If y'all make that a big deal then it's a big fuckin' deal."

Rohan: “The face may not be a big deal to you but how it came to be is. The two are linked together and maybe someday they won’t be but right now they are.”

MJ: He'd almost said something harsh. It wasn't for him to say, and it wasn't for him to say to Rohan. From his understanding, that wasn't Xavier's face to begin with. Didn't matter how it was obtained. Xavier should know that. He was a thief. Taking things that didn't belong to them was part of life. Part of life was having a thief take it right back.

He wiped his face again.

"Tea n'all that. Goin' in."

Without thinking, he leaned forward, kissed Rohan's forehead before opening the door.

Rohan/Xavier: That brought the smile back, tired as it was. “All right. I’ll be back in a bit.”

MJ would find Xavier half sitting up in bed, clad in one of his dressing gowns.

The skin of his new body was pale and unblemished. Long dark hair had replaced the chestnut waves while icy blue eyes replaced warm hazel ones.

Though it was hard to tell from this position, he also stood a couple of inches shorter and was considerably less broad than before. And his face, that brand new, angelic-looking face, reflected pure exhaustion.

MJ: Dressing gowns. The man still showed his age. This man, however, looked right at home in that gown. That was a face plucked straight from a novel. It was hauntingly beautiful. He couldn't say it was his type, but it was stunning nonetheless.

The chin was narrower, nose long and pointed. Reminded him of that bird that hung around. Those eyes were chilly, but that stance was Xavier. That faraway look he rarely saw, it was still Xavier's gaze.

Without word, MJ climbed into bed, kicked his sneakers off, and rolled onto his back. Inch by inch he made his way over to that new body, ready to plop his head in that new lap.

Xavier/Abel: Abel noticed MJ’s presence first, wagging his tail at the vampire’s approach. Not as energetic as usual but still glad to see him.

Xavier didn’t notice anything at all until he felt the bed shift under MJ’s weight.

He startled, instinctively pulling the covers closer until he saw that it was MJ and the surprise turned to confused dread and then to…something. It was hard to tell but it looked like anticipation of doom.

He was waiting for it. Waiting for that look.

MJ: There would be no look. He'd had all of the travel with Ramsay, the walk through the house, the talk with Rohan, the three seconds of staring to prepare. He meant what he'd said outside of this room, and that look of dread from his old friend was as easily ignored as the new face it came from.

This was still Xavier's lap, and this wasn't his first time with his head resting on this thigh. Probably a smaller thigh, from the feel of it, but still, this thigh.

"Man, that last delivery was borin' as fuck. Got t'talk t'Jeremy, though. Keep fuckin' forgettin' he's like seven hours ahead of me. Went down a dirt road. Thought I was gonna get fuckin' eaten by a goddamn werewolf. I really need t'buy another gun."

Xavier/Abel: Confusion won out over the dread and anticipation of doom.

MJ wasn’t…reacting. He was talking like normal, acting like normal. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed.

Xavier wracked his brain in an attempt to remember if vampires could see true forms when his mind went off on a tangent.

Jeremy Murray. The arrangement. How would that work now? He didn’t see the man every day but he had to see him sometime if the arrangement was to continue. How would he explain his new face without blowing his cover entirely?

And down the rabbit hole he went.

'Quick, say something more,' Abel thought at MJ. 'We're losing him.'

MJ: If MJ could swat Abel away he would. Don't get too excited, familiar. He probably feels that.

"Why did I think I was gonna get eaten by a werewolf? Glad ya asked. Could hear howlin' in the woods when I was on the phone. Didn't tell him. Wanted to. What good would that do, ya know? He's been dealin' with vampires his whole life. No tellin' what he'd do if I added that. But any fuckin' way, didn’t sound normal. Kept gettin' closer. Sounded like three of em. Was on the way t'Charlotte. Miiiight have t'take another route."

Xavier: He didn’t feel that but nevertheless, MJ’s voice succeeded in pulling him back from that faraway place he went to so often these past couple of days.

Xavier’s brow furrowed in concern. He didn’t like the idea of MJ traveling a road traveled by werewolves. He was always alone on these deliveries what if something happened. He needed protection, a—

“Bodyguard.”

MJ: MJ just smiled, made a playful face. "A bodyguard? Been workin' on my dweomer every chance I get. That shit I did in Chicago feels like a fluke. Ya know, makin' somethin' move on its own. It's like... I dunno. I dunno what I was thinkin' at the time. But! I've had this idea of makin' replicas of myself. Not t'do anything, but make someone think I'm not alone."

Xavier: The sound of his own voice still startled him and his face reflected it; he just stared at MJ for a few seconds, blinking.

But once again, surprise gave way to other emotions. Ones that brought back that thousand-yard stare.

He’d seen that spell used before. Fifty years ago, in this very house.

MJ: Slowly, one might say cautiously, MJ reached up to brush his fingertips along Xavier's new jaw. Skin like a newborn baby. Years with telepaths, he'd learned the bare minimum to keep his thoughts to himself. He certainly would that.

"Who'd ya want me t'bring?"

Xavier: Even as slowly as MJ moved, Xavier startled again, just as unaccustomed to having this new face touched as he was to the sound of his own voice.

“Ramsay.”

MJ: "Why Ramsay? I mean he's a fuckin' keg with legs n'I love him, but is he a fighter n'I just didn't know?"

Xavier: “He’s from East London.”

MJ: "Oh, well, that explains everything," he softly laughed. Nothing too loud or too harsh.

"Missed the fuck outta ya, man."

Xavier: Xavier took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Well, MJ had gone and done it now.

The man who had spent the past one hundred years not crying in front of anyone now couldn’t seem to stop himself.

MJ: "Hey, hey. Hug my head, man." Xavier's hand was gently taken, encouraged forward. "Go 'head."

Xavier: Rather than hug MJ’s head, Xavier just squeezed his hand for all he was worth.

This had been the longest week of his life. Everything was wrong and upside down, nothing felt comfortable, nothing felt as it usually did. There was too much that was new. He just wanted something familiar.

Now here MJ was, giving him something familiar and it still wasn’t comfortable because now Xavier was wrong and upside down.

But rather than find a way to convey any of that, he gave it to MJ telepathically. Talking was just another reminder of how ruined it all was.

MJ: Such a strange feeling, having thoughts not your own. Felt wrong. He would never say so out loud, but it felt like a mental illness. A unique insanity with a friend's voice attached.

"You're not fuckin' ruined. If you're ruined, I'm ruined. Know what I mean? Ya woulda told me the same, back then. Ya'd tell me the same now. So don't ya dare."

Xavier: Xavier took a few deep, shuddering breaths. MJ may not have been ruined and he may not have been ruined but everything else was. Every last aspect of his life.

“My baby.”

MJ: "What he's gonna think?"

Xavier: “I don’t look like him anymore,” he said, breath hitching on a sob. “He has my eyes. That’s all he had of me and now that’s gone. I don’t look like my baby anymore.”

MJ: "Hey, we can change that. And," MJ thought a moment. No one had said anything, according to Rohan. "Lemme take care of Devlin, okay?"

Xavier: “We can’t change it. He looks like my old body and my old body is gone. Magic can’t change things and make it so he came from this body.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

MJ: He was talking. Right now, that was progress.

"Yeah, he came from some other body's sperm, but he's a piece of you. Your soul. Not Joe Shumck down the road. That's gotta mean somethin' more than what color eyes he's got.

"I mean lemme explain t'him why ya look different."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. He didn’t have the strength or the desire to stop MJ from taking some of the weight off his shoulders.

“He’s only seven. This is too much for him. It’s too much for me. How is he going to understand? How do you understand?”

MJ: You don't want my answer.

"Not like your soul changed color, or I'm talkin' to a stranger." He considered a moment. Almost. He could almost say it, but no. Not now, probably not ever. Not to Xavier. To Rohan, sure. To Ramsay, maybe. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his belief; he doubted saying what he thought would dry the tears, demon or not.

"It won't be too much. He's seven."

Xavier: “I’m not so sure about that. About my soul.” It certainly felt like it was a different color. Just one more thing that felt wrong and upside down.

“He’s a baby. An innocent little baby that thinks his daddy is magic and can do no wrong.”

MJ: "His daddy is magic. One day he has t'know what he is, n'what ya are. But right now... he can know somethin' else, n'have somethin' t'brood about when he's a teenager."

Xavier: “He thinks I’m sick. I can hear his little hand knocking on the bedroom door when he gets home from school because he wants to see me to make me feel better.”

MJ: "I'm a big advocate of lyin', most of the time." Let's just leave it at that. "I'm gonna go talk t'your boy. 'Less ya want me t'wait on Theo or some shit."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Yes, wait for him. I don’t know when he’ll be home but it would be wrong to talk to Devy without him there. Fuck, and Theo…”

He sank further into the bed. “How the hell is Theo going to deal with any of this?”

MJ: "If he only loves ya for your looks, he doesn't love ya."

Xavier: “He doesn’t—god only knows why—but they matter.”

MJ: "Looks matter? I mean, comin' from a guy that dresses like a millionaire, I get it, but there's gotta be more than that. If Rohan looked like Brad Pitt, he'd still look like a prince. If ya looked like Edward Norton, I'd forgive ya."

Xavier: “Of course they matter. Being attracted to the person you’re with is important, it’s part of the whole…” He gestured vaguely.

He lifted his head to look at MJ. “Who is Edward Norton?”

MJ: "But what are they attracted to? Your nose? Your hair? Or the way ya smile, the way ya do your eyes when you're overthinkin'. Does Theo love the way ya bite your lip, or does he just love your lip?"

MJ held his hand up in disgust. "We're gonna watch Fight Club."

Xavier: “How should I know? But whatever he was attracted to is gone because now I’m,” he gestured again, “this.”

“What’s Fight Club?”

MJ: MJ sat up with an old man groan. For show.

"You'll know what kinda man he is when he comes home. If he's some shallow prick n'we didn't know all along, I'mma kick his ass. If he still loves ya, then goddamn right he should. We'll know, won't we?"

Rough hands cupped Xavier's face. He began to look him over. Not in shock and awe, but in earnest, as though this were a wound which needed tending.

"Mm. Hmm. Nah. S'still you in there. Pretty sure this is Sulfur Boy. I mean, you're dressed like fuckin' Ebenezer Scrooge, but that's kinda X's thing."

Xavier: Xavier was still waiting for that look. How could he do anything else? This was a new face, a face MJ wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t been told who he was and somehow, that look still wasn’t making an appearance.

“Ebenezer Scrooge never wore Italian silk robes. He wore long nightshirts and one of those caps.”

MJ: "You're gettin' one of them caps for Christmas. Fit right in with your aesthetic, old man."

Seemed to be doing the trick. The crying had stopped. Being argumentative had its merits.

"Hey. I fuckin' love you."

Xavier: “I’ll wear it if it’s made out of Italian silk.”

MJ was going to start the crying back up again with sentiments like that. “I fucking love you, too.”

MJ: "Now, I'm gonna go steal someone's fuckin' laptop n'we're gonna fuckin' watch Fight Club. You're gonna learn t'day."

Xavier: “Why do you need a laptop? There’s a television in the sitting room.”

MJ: "That television gonna pull up my Google thingy?"

Xavier: “It should. It pulls up all those other services.”

MJ: "That means movin'."

Xavier: “It can be brought in here.”

MJ: "Ya can be brought in there. Or, or I steal that laptop n'I get in sweatpants."

Xavierl: “Do that then. I don’t want to move. Get mine from the study.”

MJ: "Alright. Ya don't wanna move. Ya got two more passes 'fore I'm gonna need a note from your doctor," MJ smiled.

Xavier: Xavier pointed at Abel. “He’s right there. He accepts all major insurance carriers and chicken legs.”

MJ: The Ravnos' smile broadened. Sounding a little more like himself. "Gonna get the shit. Be right back."

Xavier/Abel: “We’ll be here.”

Abel hopped off the bed and changed into his human form. “We need popcorn!” he shouted, dashing out of the room.

MJ: Having to wait for Theo, he thought. Being one of the last in the house to know, along with the servants. Hamilton should know, he continued musing. He stripped down and redressed for a movie night. The laptop in the study was as good as any. He'd put it back, he swears.

Xavier/Abel: Abel would still be downstairs seeing to their refreshments when MJ returned to the bedroom, so all the vampire would find was Xavier in another trance with another thousand-yard stare.

It was bound to keep happening unless there was something occupying his attention.

MJ: And occupy he shall. MJ pulled up YouTube and typed in for Daily Dose of Internet. The laptop was placed near the foot of the bed, full screen to distract Xavier with a man explaining how to stop a snake from eating itself with hand sanitizer; the video then jumped to a captain of a boat being thrashed around by waves; an old woman cussing like a sailor while playing GTA 5; a woman attacked by a glitter bomb fake package stolen from a tech nerd's doorstep.

Xavier/Abel: It was a very good distraction. Getting too into his own head was impossible when he was trying to figure out the appeal of stealing something unknown or why someone would want to play what appeared to be a thoroughly frustrating video game.

“Back!” Abel greeted when he returned a few minutes later with an armful of food. “We’ve got popcorn, we’ve got wine, we’ve got cake! And for our favorite vampire we have some fresh Olympian juice!”

MJ: "Ya know, when ya put it that way, s'like everyone's a walkin' vegetable."

For some people, where was the lie?

"Alright. Lemme pull this shit up. Whose fuckin' laptop is this, anyway?"

Xavier/Abel: “They’re not not walking vegetables,” said Abel, setting everything down. The blood bag was offered to MJ and some wine poured for Xavier, who frowned at MJ’s question.

“It’s the one from the study, isn’t it?” The demon looked it over. “It’s mine.”

MJ: "Ah. I don't feel guilty, then." Signed into his account, the movie was pulled up and put full screen. The laptop returned where everyone could see.

"Ever have chili and lime in your popcorn? Should try it."

Xavier/Abel: “Had it with chili before,” said Abel, settling beside Xavier. “Never lime though. Next time.” Because he was too lazy to go back to the kitchen.

“What is this film about?” asked Xavier.

MJ: "'Bout a man tired of monotony. That's all you're gettin'."

Xavier: “All right.” Xavier sipped his wine. “Is the man this Edward Norton?”

MJ: "Look at that scrawny fuck."

Abel: Abel snorted. “Not everyone can be a big, swarthy vampire. Or even just big and swarthy.”

MJ: "Hey, this was years of baseball and trouble."

Abel: “You definitely earned your swarthiness,” said Abel, nodding sagely as he shoved an enormous handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Norton’s just a skinny dude. Even if he was jacked he would still be a skinny dude.”

MJ: "That's called a twink, n'they have a place in my heart, too. Just not that one. Somethin' 'bout him always rubbed me wrong."

Abel: Abel squinted at the screen. “I think it’s his face. Like he looks like an average dude but also like he’s up to something shady.”

MJ: "I liked him in Red Dragon."

Xavier: “What is Red Dragon?” asked Xavier.

MJ: Each time Xavier opened his mouth was a win in MJ's opinion.

"Movie-slash-book 'bout serial killers. One bein' hunted, the other in prison helpin' em find the one out."

Xavier/Abel: He narrowed his eyes. That sounded almost familiar.

“It’s one of the Hannibal Lecter movies,” Abel offered.

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of that.”

MJ: "But have ya seen or read em?"

Xavier: “I don’t believe so.”

MJ: "Ya will soon. Wanna read or watch?"

Xavier: “Watch. Reading requires far too much energy.”

MJ: "You'll get back into it."

Xavier: “Perhaps,” Xavier said softly, sinking further into the covers.

MJ: Popcorn began flying across the bed to Abel's mouth. A little game between vampire and familiar while they watched.

Abel: Any game with food was Abel’s favorite game. He caught nearly all the pieces of popcorn in his mouth, and what wasn’t caught was offered to Xavier in between explaining things happening in the movie.

“How much you wanna bet random dudes everywhere started fight clubs after this movie came out?” he asked aloud.

MJ: "It was a reply to the boomer generation. A celebration of gen x takin' back their manhood." MJ rarely had answers like this, which said something he didn't even notice.

Abel: Abel turned to MJ with a smile, impressed. “Well listen to you! You’re a regular movie historian.”

MJ: "Just shit I like." More popcorn was thrown at Abel's face.

Xavier/Abel: Abel would continue to catch what he could and offer Xavier what he couldn’t, but only for a while.

Pete: Even had MJ not insisted, Pete still would've set him up in the guest room. They were starting fresh and that meant a romantic relationship between the two of them didn't currently exist. As such, the guest room was the only option.

He'd looked on in amusement as MJ gave Midas a talking to with Abel's silent but very present assistance, pleased that it seemed to have worked.

The next day when Midas wanted attention, he only knocked over what he was allowed to and was rewarded handsomely with treats and affection.

Pete was in the middle of doling out said affection when the SUV pulled up.

"Looks like a goddamn mafia lieutenant," he muttered to himself, turning away from the window so his glare wouldn't be seen.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: MJ and Guildias came to the door as one. No Callum in sight. The SUV remained warm and rumbling. Rosmond's first field operation since the Embrace. Waylon Dahlberg and Leslie Issott a few taps on his antiquated cellphone, should the expertise of a witch be required.

There he would wait, as Peter and the familiar named Abel were gathered for their expedition.

"Gertrude insisted," MJ explained. "Said it would be good for him. Probably t'keep an eye on us."

Guildias leaned against the doorway. "We represent Edenton, whether we like it or lump it. If something catastrophic were to happen, Raleigh mustn't be privy to the embarrassment."

Pete/Abel: Pete opened the door with a frown that was matched by Abel's as he appeared behind him.

"Dude, come on," said Abel, his tone heartily disapproving. "I thought we agreed you were gonna go in, observe the niceties, and get out. Why'd you go and tell her? She's not the boss of the Umbra!"

A sentiment Pete echoed. "The only catastrophe will be if we fail to get that kid, I couldn't care less about Gertrude's potential embarrassment. Like Raleigh gives one single shit about a human child, they probably didn't even notice."

MJ: "Since when did the two of ya start parroting each other? This be a sewin' circle while we were out?"

Abel: "He fed me chicken and rice casserole," said Abel. "We bonded. But still! Now some goon is gonna watch us the whole time and learn shit about us. It's like taking a cop on a heist."

Guildias: "More akin to taking a bodyguard and former assassin," said Guildias. "Trust me, Mr. Harrington, the man has no personality to speak of."

Abel: Abel peeked around Guildias at the SUV and turned to Pete. “You’re right, it does look like a mafia lieutenant car.” The windows were so dark he couldn’t even see the goon.

“All right, so. Is Mr. No Personality coming in or what?”

MJ/Guildias: MJ just snickered. "If it weren't for ya breakin' physics we'd have a Scooby-doo van. Ya know, for work."

"We have hours of drive ahead of us and little night. Rosmond encourages you to bring water," Guildias smirked at Peter.

Pete/Abel: “If we did have a Scooby-doo van, it would have to break physics, too, so we wouldn't have to drive around for hours. Does the mafia lieutenant really want to drive?”

Pete just sighed and went to the kitchen to fill up a water bottle.

MJ/Guildias: "Expect the unexpected." And a lack of trust for a familiar's magic from both Setite and Giovanni. Being backed by a Ravnos did little for confidence; less post-merge.

"Stopped by the RV for some shit. Should have everything," said MJ. "Let's go, Abe. Come meet the mafia."

Abel: "You said yourself we only have a little bit of night to do this and he wants to spend a chunk of it driving." Abel shook his head and grabbed his jacket. "This is why you don't bring a cop." He heaved a great sigh. "All right, let's go meet the mafia."

MJ/Guildias: "We got gear. Got shit if the kid needs moved. Can't just show up at a place ya ain't even seen. Can ya even move five people n'gear t'some place ya ain't even been, dude?" Asked while tugging him by the shirt. No standing and talking. Movement.

Guildias waited quietly for Peter.

Pete/Abel: "I can move four people and gear thanks to the booster spell and talismans I got from X and Ramsay. You know, like we planned. The news reported on it, pictures of the house and the kid are everywhere and the address wasn't hard to find. How do you think I grabbed your ass from that scary place with the giant glass tank? Magic, my guy."

Pete returned a few moments later wearing a jacket and carrying a small pack. "What are my chances of not having to ride with the prince's goon and just following behind in my own car?"

MJ/Guildias: "Magic - ya read my mind! Kinda different from pictures on a screen." Or in Rosmond's case, a printed map to a craftsman foursquare a few miles outside of Raleigh. The route was simple enough and already memorized.

MJ pulled from his inner jacket pocket a long enticing stick of LaffyTaffy. A peace offering handed over without word.

"Let's not over-complicate matters," said Guildias. "Has he outwardly wronged you?"

Pete/Abel: Abel opened his mouth, fully prepared to say more, but the appearance of the candy had it closing again. He accepted it with a smile. "Okay, I love you again. Let's meet Mr. Wet Blanket. Does he actually have no personality or was Guildias exaggerating?"

"Matters are already complicated," said Pete. "We're dipping into the Veil. I'd just rather not have Gertrude's ears and eyes adding to the tension. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done and we have shit to do."

MJ/Guildias: "Ya tell me," MJ smirked, opening one of the doors for Abel. Black interior and spacious, which was the point. Easy to label safety measures as cliche, but there they were.

"That still doesn't answer my question. Seems to be the one area you and Callum disagree."

Pete/Abel: Abel poked his head into the car and looked around. 'Woowwwww,' he thought to MJ. 'It's very la cosa nostra in here.' Out loud, he greeted the driver. "Hey, man."

"You of all people should know why I don't think fondly of the prince. Isn't that reason enough to not want him to be part of this?" He was almost certain telling Gertrude had been Guildias' idea, or maybe even his doing. "Let's just go."

Pete locked the door behind him and walked to the car, hearing his mentor's voice in his head telling him to take things in stride.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: Abel was gently shoved forward. He wasn't going to bother reminding him to mind his manners.

A youngish-looking man, blond, eyes like dying grass, observed from the rear-view mirror. Chiseled from some other era. Stoic as a garden statue.

"Mr. Harrington," he greeted. Something in those two words was not quite North Carolina. Something more melodic and silky than one might expect from that face.

"For the man he once was," said Guildias, waiting to fall into step with the Fera. The door was opened for Peter, and it was Guildias climbing into the backseat. A choice made so MJ didn't have to. Rosmond watched expectedly as MJ took his place in the front passenger seat.

"I'll be y'all's DJ for the next hour(sss). We start our adventure with some Reba."

Pete/Abel: Having spent so long in the company of an alias-loving demon, it was more than a little unsettling to be called by his actual name, especially by someone that looked so...stony. Abel wasn't entirely sure he liked it. "Yep, that's me. You don't have to call me mister. And your name...?"

"Rosmond," said Pete, settling in between Abel and Guildias. "His name is Rosmond."

MJ/Guildias: The drive would have been quiet if not for MJ's music. Their driver offered nothing by means of conversation. Neither did Guildias, content with tilting back in his seat and adjusting large gold and brown hexagonal Ray-Bans.

MJ took initiative to sing. Juggling lemons which disappeared randomly, forced back with a bit of concentration. Minutes before arrival, Abel was finally given attention by the Setite.

"Is he always like this?"

Pete/Abel: While Pete didn't normally go for country, MJ's singing provided both distraction and entertainment. The ride was giving him way too much time to think.

Abel shook his head. "Nope. Sometimes he juggles oranges."

MJ/Guildias: "An improvement, then. It's time you upgrade to grapefruit."

"Ha. Easy." But what materialized in his hands looked too yellow. One looked more like Jupiter with various rings of decay. Not quite. He stared for some time, trying to find the appropriate color of a citrus he'd forgotten.

Abel: Abel leaned forward in his seat for a better view.

"Too yellow. Go for a slightly bigger orange that's a yellowy orange color."

MJ/Rosmond: Bigger than this? Roughly the size of both fists, then, and now a rotten lemon in shade.

"Too brown," said Rosmond.

Abel: "Slightly smaller. Think softball or....yeah no, just think softball."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias pulled his phone from pocket. Many years out of date. Complete with keyboard. He leaned forward and presented a stock photo.

"Huh," MJ sighed, trying one more time with Abel's advice and Guildias' image.

The texture wasn't quite there, but an improvement.

Abel: "Ah, you got it! Well done, well done. We're gonna have you juggling citrus of all persuasions before you know it."

To Guildias he said, "I thought your people hated tech?"

Guildias: "We're not part of the ivory tower; but it comes with its own set of rules."

Abel: The hell was the ivory tower? Something to ask MJ later on.

"Gotta live the burner phone life, man."

Guildias/Rosmond: "What makes you think I'm not?"

Rosmond had nothing to add. With the same silence, he drove the SUV quietly onto a dirt road and into a snug patch of forest. The engine was killed, keys stuffed in his pocket.

"Mr. Harrington, I would appreciate your assistance." A brief look back to Guildias. Both men climbed out of the vehicle.

Abel: "That phone you have has internet access. I'm talking the circa-2004-Nokia-phone-that-only-has-Snake-on-it burner phone life."

He peered out the windows at their destination, metaphorical antenna up for anything out of the ordinary.

"I'm all ears, but really, please call me Abel."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: The driver's side door was shutting. Guildias gestured for Abel to follow him. Meanwhile, MJ climbed into the back with Peter.

"Stake out shit," he sighed. Normally his forte in the duo, and normally Xavier's forte in the trio. For now, grapefruit had been replaced by pink and blue golf balls, rolled in a single hand.

"You won't be getting a first name from our acquaintance, my friend," Guildias whispered. "That is not a hill to die on."

"Cameras and other security systems need to first be addressed. By any means." Rosmond looked expectedly to the snake, already stepping deeper into the woods where Rosmond pointed. To the house hidden behind a near quarter mile of bracken and sagging branches.

Pete/Abel: Pete nodded, peering out the window as Abel had. "Kinda wanna roll the window down and see if I can smell anything else that might be out there. It occurred to me about fifty miles ago that we might not be the only ones with an interest in this."

Abel looked from Guildias to the man called Rosmond. Did the guy ever crack a smile? Or a joke? Or blink? "I'm annoyingly persistent," he whispered back. "But I'll take your word for it."

He was itching to turn into his animal form but that wasn't wise for two reasons: one, he felt uncomfortable doing so without MJ around. Two, he wouldn't be able to communicate with them.

"There's a few spells for that. Glamours that could hide us while we do what we need to do without being seen."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "What, like fae? Ain't that their thing, stealin' children n'shit?" MJ reached over Peter's lap for the door, opening it a crack. He wanted to take his rebirth behind the masquerade seriously.

Rosmond followed behind by a few feet. "Observation," he reminded. "Mr. Calloway and Graham will utilize your information."

"Still the bodyguard?" Guildias looked over his shoulder, smirk in his eyes.

"Supervision." With Gertrude's insistence. Field work with new capacity. A test of responsibility he would not take lightly.

The same craftsman foursquare from the printed page. New paint job. Manicured lawn. A plastic colorful play set in the backyard. A silver truck and red sedan in the front yard. Porch light on. Lights off save for the second floor in two rooms.

Pete/Abel: "Some of them, yeah. Could be anyone though, including some weirdo human." It was never a good idea to underestimate the weirdos.

Pete scooted close enough to the door to where he could stick his nose out and scented the air.

Well, Abel thought, these two seemed fairly uninterested in magic. Which begged the question of why Rosmond had asked for his assistance.

He looked at the house with a frown. It looked so normal. Nothing about it gave away what had happened inside.

"Poor souls," he sighed to himself.

MJ/Guildias: "You were called 'pup' last night. We'll need that right now, if you're willing to oblige," said Guildias, softly for the semblance of privacy.

Meanwhile, MJ watched Peter with fascination. "What can ya smell?"

Pete/Abel: Abel turned to Guildias, ignoring the knot in his gut. Although whether it was more to do with the impending journey into the Umbra or the thought of transforming without MJ, he couldn't say for sure. "I am--" sort of, "--but I won't be able to communicate with you. Unless you practice telepathy?"

Pete inhaled deeply. "You. Soil. Some sort of body of water nearby. Vampire."

MJ/Guildias: "We'll be right here. You see what you see and come back to us. Door cams, police surveillance. Do not put yourself in unnecessary danger. I'll be right behind you."

MJ smiled privately. "That all? Lions, tigers, bears, oh my?"

Pete/Abel: "I'm not putting myself in any danger at all," Abel said with a grin, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little silver pendant. It was small, about the size of a nickel, and inscribed with what appeared to be several runic symbols.

Abel clipped it on the necklace he was already wearing so it rested beside his 'A' pendant.

"Okay, so this is gonna hide me from view and muffle any sounds I make, but you should still be able to hear my footsteps if you listen close."

Pete chuckled. "None of them around, only us. Good sign I guess."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "A little more elaborate than a stray dog wandering about," said Guildias. "If the task is completed, then by all means."

Rosmond remained nearby a tree, hands to his sides, observing like the statue Abel imagined him as.

Guildias took a step forward, disappearing behind a tree and then altogether.

"The more borin' the better," MJ nodded. "Ain't supposed t'be a heist."

Pete/Abel: "People tend to approach small dogs, to either pet them or to try and help them. Sometimes I'll get a treat out of the deal but we've gotta be stealthier today." Abel took one more second to make sure the necklace was secure before chanting a small incantation.

He hadn't quite finished when he slowly started to fade from view, his voice growing fainter and fainter as if he were moving far away. A moment later he was gone completely, and only once he was hidden did he feel safe enough to transform.

'I'm in dog form,' he thought to MJ, chain and pendants jingling as he shook himself off. 'Also invisible. Just wanted to give you the head's up.'

Pete nodded as well. "Yeah. Sure feels like one though. Still can't quite believe we're gonna do what we're about to do. It's like my brain can't process it."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias remained on the outskirts, watchful of sinking grass under invisible feet that would be Abel. Watchful for a police car, something. After a bout of silence, he pulled from his coat various colored loupes, bringing each to his eye as he searched for an outward sign of entry. Some indication of where to begin.

MJ sat up straight, looking off to nowhere as though suddenly lost in thought. And then like that, it was over.

"This is sorta been my thing for a while now. Not rescuin' kids, but I mean, the weird shit it comes with."

Pete/Abel: The movement in the sinking grass would indicate a methodical survey around the house. Abel slowly circled it, alternating between sniffing around and watching and listening for any movement or sign that something was amiss. Aside from the obvious, of course.

Since he couldn't speak to Guildias, he thought his observations at MJ. 'Everything's pretty quiet. I smell new paint but I can still smell two kids. One scent is stronger than the other. There's another scent too, can't identify it just yet.' A few beats of silence. 'It's so frustratingly normal.'

"You're sounding more like Robin Hood by the second. Does your demon friend help too?" Pete looked over at MJ. "You okay?"

MJ/Guildias: Every image given to MJ was filed away. This would be vital later. One thing to look out for. That new trend.

'Check the door for one of them cams. I don't think they'll have anything else.'

After a wide circle of the entire property, Guildias returned to Rosmond's side. Reappeared as easily as a blink, and waited for the familiar.

"Yeah," MJ smiled. "N'yeah, m'good. We can start headin' over."

Pete/Abel: 'Copy that.'

Abel looped around again to check out the back door. That's where people tended to have cameras and other security measures, since it couldn't be seen from the street. Of course, humans didn't realize the real threats didn't need cover to attack.

'I see it. Small camera pointed at the back door. Simple, the kind an alarm company would offer to their customers. Fixed position, probably connects to their Wi-Fi network.'

Pete took a deep breath. "All right, let's do this, Robin Hood."

MJ: 'To zap the power lines or do my cloak shit.' To fuck the power lines would bring someone out and shorten their window further. 'Keep sendin' me a view. Check the front door, too. We're headin' that way.'

MJ looked back for Peter, a look on his face as though surprised to see him. Telepathy was disorienting.

"What's your plan?"

Pete/Abel: 'Cutting power attracts attention and utility people. I think cloaking is the way to go.'

Back again to the front of the house. A few of the windows had stickers with a company logo on them; probably the same company that had supplied the camera.

Moving as silently as he could, Abel climbed the front steps and inspected the porch. 'They have a doorbell camera too. Movement usually triggers the censor on those.'

Pete sighed as he zipped up his jacket and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "Honestly? I don't fuckin' know, man. Abel's got this spell to turn me into a beacon or a lighthouse so this kid can find me but what if it doesn't work?"

MJ: "He's got a what now?" MJ laughed. "I'll bet ya real money that light freaks out the snake."

Which reminded him, speaking with Abel, to find a path with the least amount of trees.

'We'll focus on the backyard. I need the cam's perspective real quick and I got it.'

Pete/Abel: "I only understood about half his explanation but basically it's going to make it easier for us to find the kid in the Umbra so we're not there longer than we absolutely have to be. Time's already fucky over there."

'Good call. Tread lightly,' Abel added before rejoining the two vampires. A quick incantation to reverse the spell and he slowly blinked back into existence, once again in human form.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "I wouldn't know." They came upon two figures. Guildias handing over the various colored loupes to Rosmond. Green glass was brought to his eye.

"Ya get the cam's perspective?" whispered to Abel, not the least bit surprised by his sudden appearance.

Rosmond looked back for Peter. He offered the glass by its brass handle. Pointed towards the furthest wall of the back of the house. A small opening like smears on the glass broken by some nonexistent void light. The glass of course was spotless.

"That is where you will breach."

Pete/Abel: ‘It’s pointed at the back door,’ Abel thought to him. ‘At most it’s getting a tiny bit of the backyard and the back porch. It’s not super sophisticated.’

Pete accepted the glass and held it to his eye.

So that was what a portal into the Veil looked like. It was nothing like he would’ve expected. Didn’t even look sinister.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: The telepathy put another smile on his face. "Ros ain't so fast t'kill us all." Two different expressions turned their attention upon the pair. One of bored neutrality, the other a smirk.

"Which of you can lure the occupants inoffensively?" asked Rosmond.

"I got that," said MJ. "Goin' in." Rosmond waited several steps before following behind. Watched as the trickster honed in on the small white device near the ceiling of the small back porch. His hands came together. Middle fingers wrapped over index fingers and touched. A halved orb, no bigger than a snow globe, attached itself to the camera.

'Actually, I ain't got that. Busy here. Can ya bark?'

Pete/Abel: "Hey!" Abel gave MJ a smack on the arm. "Be an agent of chaos after we finish our mission," he whisper yelled, though there was amusement in his eyes.

Pete studied the portal a moment longer and handed the glass back. He felt like starting at it too long would make him lose his nerve or fry his brain or something. Everything about this felt completely out of his depth.

Abel, who had made his way over to stand by Pete, suddenly seemed to lose himself in thought.

'Do you just want me to bark or should I make myself known and distract them?'

MJ: 'Nothin' human. We need sweet lost animal.'

Abel: 'Invisible innocent barking, gotcha.'

"Be back in a sec," Abel announced out loud before activating his spell again and transforming back into a dog.

He wanted to stay close enough to the house to be heard while also not drawing attention toward any of them, so he moved a few feet away in the opposite direction of everything before letting out the most pitiful little bark anyone ever did hear.

MJ/Rosmond: A sound which worked almost instantly to stir the house. Another bark and the porch light switched on. MJ knelt in place, focused on the camera as Rosmond waited around the corner. A woman with deep warm skin and tired eyes first looked out the window before opening the back door. She clicked her tongue.

Abel: Gotcha, Abel thought to himself.

He changed locations to give the illusion that he was wandering around lost and barked again, even adding a whine for good measure and shaking himself so his pendants would jingle.

He sort of felt like the pied piper but not sinister.

MJ/Rosmond: It was enough for her to descend the steps. She turned her head this way and that in search of what sounded like a little dog, to be greeted instead by a blond figure twice her size, hand clasped firmly over her mouth.

"You didn't see my face. You're exhausted. You deserve to sleep. Dream of your son."

Her expression softened, and Rosmond removed his hand. Her arms fell to her sides, and she turned, walking slowly back inside with the vampire at her heels.

MJ, caught up in what he'd just witnessed, damn near dropped his glamour.

Abel: It caught Abel by surprise as well. He very nearly barked for real and ran toward the woman and whatever the hell Rosmond was doing to her until she calmly walked back inside.

'What the fuck was that!?' he thought to MJ. 'Did you know he was going to do that?'

MJ/Guildias: 'Knew he was gonna do somethin'. Didn't know it was fuckin' that.' How the fuck did he do that? It felt familiar. Something he knew, or seen, or experienced. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

One by one, the upstairs bedrooms darkened.

Guildias took to the porch, patting MJ's shoulder along the way.

"It's your time to shine, Peter."

Pete/Abel: 'Well shit, that's an important detail to keep to himself. Is he always this bad at communicating?' Abel returned to where Pete was, making himself human and visible again.

"Oh no it's not," he said, reaching back into his pockets and pulling out even more pendants. Some were round, some polygonal, but all were made of perfectly clear crystal. The ones that were on short strings were placed on Pete's wrist and the one on the longer string was put around his neck. "Can't go walking in there without activating you first."

MJ/Guildias: 'He's the boss right now. Ain't gotta tell us shit.' It was still jarring, watching a mere ghoul rank before his very eyes. Someone he'd been forced to steal from Guildias' basement years ago under Victoria Harrak's orders, now working in tandem. Felt less real than what they were about to do.

"Activating him?" asked Guildias.

Pete/Abel: 'Says who? We're all bringing something to the table. He's being withholding, plain and simple.' It was just the sort of behavior he expected from someone with the demeanor of a statue.

Abel focused back on the task at hand, nodding at Guildias' question. "Yep. Sending him into the Umbra blind is a suicide mission, so I found something to help." The origin of which he would keep to himself. Wouldn't do to go revealing privileged information willy-nilly.

"These crystals are gonna turn our Petey boy into a lighthouse so he can find the little boy, or so the little boy can find him. Petey, did you bring your flashlight like I told you?"

Pete nodded.

"And a weapon?"

"I have a pocketknife?"

"That'll do. Extra sweater?"

Another nod.

"Snack?"

Yet another nod.

"Good man."

Guildias: Guildias took Peter's wrist in three fingers, gently, to examine the crystals. Sunglasses resting on his head, hair now in a bun.

"If the Umbra will have me, I intend to go with him," he said. "Whatever you face will not be alone."

Pete: The crystals, though beautiful, looked completely innocuous. Indeed, it was hard to tell how something so unremarkable could serve as anything but an adornment.

But then that was the beauty of magic.

That caught Pete by surprise. "You want to come with me?"

Guildias: "Did you think you were walking into the unknown alone? That I or anyone here would allow that?"

Pete/Abel: Rosmond would certainly allow it, Pete thought.

"I mean, I assumed Abel might join me."

"Which I will," said Abel.

Guildias: "That will leave what remains to guard in our absence. Shall we?" Guildias opened his hand towards the still open door.

Abel: "Not so fast there. If the Umbra does let you in, you'll need this."

Abel reached into another pocket for yet another pendant, or rather three. These were again shaped like coins and each was on a silver chain. He put one on and offered the other two to Pete and Guildias respectively.

"From what I understand, it's very easy to get lost in there. These will help us find each other if we get separated. They feel warm when we're together and colder the farther away we get from each other. Magical buddy system."

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: "And you just happened to have three." Guildias smiled.

Rosmond filled the doorway, looked between the three and their shared necklaces. That answered his intended question.

"This way." To the laundry room just behind the kitchen.

"Don't y'all come back armless n'shit," called MJ in whisper, watching Peter for as long as he was able.

The small room was unassuming, plain white, and saturated in the scent of fabric softener. Two cat dishes sat atop of the dryer, already opened by Rosmond.

"It's the wall itself," he explained. "Spills outside." The green loupe was offered to Peter. "Keep it with you to find your way back."

Pete/Abel: "I have five actually!" Abel produced another two from his pocket. "One for MJ if he wanted to come and one for the kid so we don't lose him once we manage to get him."

Pete made to follow Rosmond, but not before shooting MJ a smile. "I'll do my best," he whispered back, finally following Rosmond to the laundry room.

God, it looked so normal. Unsettlingly so. Why of all places had a portal opened here?

He accepted the glass. "Thanks. Guess there's nothing left but to do it."

Guildias/Rosmond: "Manage your breathing. Keep calm. Do not separate." Words of advice Gertrude had given to pass along, and while sound, still seemed hollow coming from inexperienced lips. This would not always be the case, but Rosmond's experience would not begin tonight.

There was no sense in asking which would be the first to enter. The choice was only one to Guildias' knowledge. Quietly, he took a knee near the wall, looking up expectantly to Peter.

Pete/Abel: "Just focus on the necklace, Petey," said Abel. "Warm is good, warm is safe."

Pete nodded and tucked the buddy system pendant into his shirt. "Warm is safe. Okay."

Manage his breathing and stay calm. Pretty much what his mentor had told him over and over when he was struggling. He tried to hear Gaetan's voice now, tried to feel as centered as he had in Gaetan's presence.

Like stepping into the river, he told himself, taking a few deep breaths. This was just stepping into cool rushing water.

He entered the portal.

Guildias: A stench like primordial soup thick enough to taste. A heavy, cold, gel-like substance clung to Peter's entire being. Underneath his clothes and against his scalp. In his teeth, wet on his tongue, and seeped between fingers, toes, and thighs. The sensation threatened his nostrils and stung at his eyes.

Behind, someone grabbed his foot. Their only line into the Penumbra. That place where walking serpents were not welcome, and those covered in the dust of demonic ash were shunned.

Guildias held useless breath. Pupils slit in the limited light, finding their scenery drastically changed. They were outside. Outside somewhere else, but not. The same number of trees. The same three trees in a near perfect triangle. These trees were larger, older. Almost touched. The plastic playground, once colorful and clean, now covered in moss and mounds of dirt. Aged many years. Half swallowed by the earth.

Guildias got to his feet, reached for Peter and felt for Abel.

The ground was soft. Grass rich and healthy. The world saturated in color, though still blanketed in the same darkness of night.

"Come here," Guildias whispered to Peter, removing his scarf from around his neck.

Pete/Abel: What had he been expecting the Veil to be? Pete couldn't even begin to imagine.

But he did know that whatever slimy reek was covering him head to toe was most certainly not water and boy, did he want to fucking panic.

Would panicking help? No. Did it ever? No. So what was he to do?

Suck it up and pretend it was water. This first and hopefully only foray into the in-between was not about comfort.

Abel felt similarly. This place stunk like nothing had ever stunk before and every single cell that made up his being was absolutely screaming with protest at being here. God, he really hoped the Umbra didn't bounce them out. Could it even do that? Probably.

It was certainly unsettling being here, with everything looking the same but not. Felt like an episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Buddy system," he said, whispering as well. He grasped Guildias' searching hand and reached out for Pete's.

Meanwhile, Pete was moving closer to Guildias.

Guildias: Abel's hand was stuffed in the vampire's jacket. He then proceeded to wrap his black scarf around Peter's neck, careful around his mouth and nose to aid his breathing. Not a concern of his, and Peter was better use to them conscious.

Pete/Abel: Pete gave Guildias a grateful nod and focused on his breathing. He didn't want to speak just yet and tempt fate on the panic attack front, so he just tried to get his bearings and re-center himself.

Abel wasn't faring too much better, but he had the advantage of more magical experience.

"Wonder if I can make a barrier around us," he wondered aloud. "X does it all the time for privacy. Maybe it can work for Umbra lube."

Guildias: "I think the word we're looking for is Gauntlet." That uncomfortable veil which deterred most, but Peter was stronger than that. At least, so far.

"Slowly," he whispered. "Slow and shallow." A thick brown curl was pushed from between his eyes. "When you're ready, you lead."

Pete/Abel: "Gauntlet? Nah. That may be the technical term but this shit has the consistency of lube with none of the fun implications. So, Umbra lube. How we doing over there, Petey?"

Pete gestured with his hand to indicate 'so-so'. The scarf was helping the breathing situation, though. He was massively uncomfortable but no longer in danger of passing out from lack of oxygen.

"Hang in there, champ," said Abel. "We need to wipe his face so he can see."

Guildias: "Keep your eyes closed." The end of the scarf, the side which had been hidden during transition, was used to wipe at his eyelids and around his sockets. The substance was thin, and wiped away relatively easy.

"I assume for your kind this becomes easier."

Finally, Guildias looked back. "How are your eyes?" he asked Abel.

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't have to be told twice; he could barely open his eyes as it was.

"Thank you," he managed, sounding slightly breathless, like he was recovering from a workout.

Abel took a second to assess. "They're good, not great. Tried to duck my head as much as possible when we passed through, so only a little lube got in them."

Pete snorted. "Lube?"

"What else would you call this?"

Guildias: "Indulge the pup. Now, let's assume the child underwent the same treatment. Frightened, cold, in a broken mirror image of a familiar world. Where do you assume a child would go? I have but one theory."

Pete/Abel: Pete slowly blinked while he let his eyes adjust. They didn't sting or anything, but they very badly wanted to water.

"Uh...well. If I was a kid and I was lost, I'd try to find my house. Or at least something that looked familiar and safe."

Guildias: Guildias turned from whence they came. To a house without paint. Sagging with the weight of a tree growing on its roof. Its roots pierced through the ceiling and out through various windows. Spilled out from all sides of the roof and into the ground below. Only one window had stood the test of weight. Opened just wide enough for a little body to wriggle through.

"My assumption went through there."

Pete/Abel: Abel looked uneasily upon the tree. "There's no telling what the inside of that place looks like if this is what the outside looks like. Got your beacons out, Pete?"

Pete looked down at the crystals around his neck. Despite being covered in the same substance as the rest of him, he could swear they were glowing. "Apparently."

"Okay. Time to squeeze through the window. Hold on tight to Gil. I'll hold on tight to him too. Absolutely do not let go of each other."

Guildias: "Do you intend to each claim a foot as some golden prize?" His smile was brief but genuine. The window - kitchen window, from the looks of things - was pushed up until resistant. A tight squeeze, but manageable. They would only need to do this once. Assuming their way home was also in the sham of a laundry room here.

The vampire turned himself into a sitting position halfway through, body shifting in a manner almost unnaturally smooth. The house was blanketed in a dust thick enough to scrape away. Floating in the air in a kind of stasis. The handprint of a child on the fractured marble counter-top. Not a footprint in sight.

Pete/Abel: "In this world it might as well be," said Abel. Contact was the absolute name of the game right now; if they had that, they had a maybe decent chance of getting out of this okay.

Pete grunted as he squeezed through the window, the complete opposite of Guildias' inhuman grace. How'd he get here? How was squeezing through a window in the Veil something he was actually doing?

"Already sick of this place," he muttered in a whisper as he looked around. The handprint was a good indication that they were on the right track; the lack of footprint was not. "What, did this kid fly through here? Does anything look remotely disturbed to either of ya'll?"

Guildias: Guildias took a false breath. The air was stale, and thick with musk. The scent of rust and toiled earth blended almost seamlessly. His olfactory wasn't nearly as keen as he knew the Ravnos' to be. Might have come in handy, but he was otherwise occupied.

"That," he said. His tone suddenly quiet, as the only disturbance was that of roots. Roots which seemed to be breathing.

Pete/Abel: Abel looked uneasily to the tree. Other than the handprint and the open window, there were zero signs of life in here. Except, of course, for the tree. "Normally I'd say no way, buuuuut...."

Pete turned the tree as well. "What, you think the tree grabbed him? Wouldn't there be signs of that?"

"Not necessarily," said Abel. "Should we start hacking away at it? That seems like a bad move. It might attack us."

Guildias: "I think the best course of action would be to explore it. From bottom to top. We know he came in here, so I doubt he'd be on the roof. We can make that our last stop if we haven't found him."

Pete/Abel: Abel nodded. It seemed like a solid enough plan even though they weren't exactly spoiled for choice on how to proceed.

"Okay. So. Who's gonna be the first to touch the tree?"

"I'll do it," said Pete. "Any advice?"

"Uh...don't hurt it. Maybe--would it be weird to ask it for permission? I feel like it can definitely hear us."

Guildias: "No option is off the table. We'll see how it reacts to your nearness."

Guildias considered a moment before stepping down from his counter perch.

"I'll stand behind you. Follow Abel's idea. Hover your hand and ask."

Pete: Pete nodded and took a deep breath. "All right, here goes nothing."

He stepped closer to the tree, moving as cautiously and non-threateningly as he possibly could. If Abel was right and the tree was...sentient? somehow, then it couldn't hurt to be careful and respectful.

"Hello," he said softly, stopping just a couple steps away from the roots. "I'm looking for someone. Could you help me?"

Guildias: Guildias remained just behind, hand hovering over Peter's shoulder the same as Peter to the root. Ready to snatch at the first violent response.

The breathing root recessed from his presence. The tip of the root coiling defensively. A sound like a long hot exhale from within. A sickly-sweet stench blended with the scent of toiled earth.

Pete: So the tree was sentient. Good to have confirmation of that; gave him some idea of how to proceed.

"We're not here to hurt you," he said gently. "We won't hurt you. We just want to take this child home. He doesn't belong in this world. He belongs in our world."

Guildias: Guildias wanted to look back to Abel, but refused to remove his gaze. He would much rather have been wrong. Defense meant the capability of offense. Having any sense of emotion included anger and fear and worse.

A smaller root, hanging uselessly from the middle of the dining room ceiling began to lengthen, coiling away and tightening.

"Get away from it."

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't have to be told twice.

He took a few giant steps back from the tree, instinctively reaching for Abel and Guildias' hands.

Abel, meanwhile, had all his senses on high alert, trying to detect any hint of the little boy beneath the scent of dirt and decay.

Maybe the tree just smelled like that, or maybe they were already too late.

"Is he alive?" he asked the tree.

Guildias: Peter's elbow was gripped firmly, pushed just behind Guildias' arm. The tree his only attention.

The roots breathed again. As the one defensive coil relaxed by an inch, more roots curled. The thickest, larger than their combined mass, seemed to suck in a giant reluctant breath. Its exhale exuded more rotted stench. A low octave sound with humming vibrato. Words, but unintelligible.

Pete/Abel: A few beats of silence followed the...response? After which Pete said, "Either of you happen to speak tree?"

Abel shook his head. His face was set in serious lines, a rare display. "No. But that smell? It's either the tree itself or decomp," he said softly. It didn't necessarily mean it was the kid, but it was definitely something. That smell was unmistakable.

"Gil, any ideas on communication with sentient trees?"

Guildias: Guildias watched the root expand with every alien syllable, becoming impossibly large, beyond any tree of their world to his knowledge. It appeared wet. He suspected its surface sticky. The stench had remained consistent, but there was no conspicuous sign of a struggle, torn clothes, nor smears blood.

"Another time. Up the stairs."

Pete/Abel: Abel nodded. "All right. Come on, Petey, you heard the man."

He grabbed onto each of them and started backing out of the room, not taking his eyes off the tree until they were well clear of it. That wasn't to say one of those freakish roots couldn't stretch out and grab them but Abel felt better being away from it and the smell of death.

"Should we look in the kid's room?" Pete asked, compelled to whisper. "Might be worth a shot. There's no footprints leading this way but maybe...?"

Guildias: "Exactly why we're going upstairs." Through the kitchen, to the stairs separating the living room and kitchen. Stairs partially destroyed by roots and patched by the same. Caked dust on each step but that between the roots. Without disturbance to any of the floor, no area of the house could be overruled.

"Do you wish to sweep what remains of the first floor?" he asked Abel. "I'm more concerned with Peter's respiratory."

Pete/Abel: "Sweeping this much dust is gonna kick it up," said Abel. "I'd need to vacuum and I doubt the Umbra has power, but I'll have a looksee."

Pete shook his head. "I'm fine. Dust is the least of my worries right now. Let's just go to the kid's room. Together." This place was giving him the creeps. He spent a lot of time in the woods, surrounded by trees, but seeing all the branches holding everything together was just...unsettling.

Guildias: "Sweep - surveillance, searching, pup." He supposed his military background had caught the familiar, or this was just a familiar being idiosyncratic as usual. His tone remained patient just the same.

Pete/Abel: "Oh! You soldier types and your jargon." He gave a light smack to Guildias' arm. "In my defense, you mentioned breath--never mind. I'll give the place a once over."

"Abel, maybe you shouldn't--"

"Relax, buddy." Abel smiled. "Ain't going anywhere." He had magic; he didn't need to walk around to sweep the first floor.

He just had to listen, scent the air, put his feelers out for auras and energy signatures and other minds besides theirs. He wasn't looking to go poking around inside anyone's thoughts, he just wanted to get a feel.

For other people and for magic, and hopefully, for the little boy.

Guildias: What he sought would not be found on the first floor, but there was something. A sensation like static from the tree, damp with sentience, and if Abel were to consider above his head, where the static worsened...

Abel: Abel's brow furrowed. He turned his head to the left, waited. To the right, waited again. It wasn't coming from either direction. Then he looked up.

"We're not alone," he whispered after a moment. "I can feel something else here with us besides the tree. Up there somewhere." He pointed up the stairs. "We need to get into that room, it might be the kid. I can't quite make it out."

But first he needed to put out one more feeler so they wouldn't get a nasty surprise.

'Is anybody up there?' he thought in the direction of the second floor.

Guildias: A sleeping mind. That of a dream state. Alive, buzzing as youth often did. Peter's hand was directed to Guildias' jacket, heading up the stairs slowly, lingering on each step for a beat before attempting the next, pausing at the smallest groan of wood. The roots were no hurdle, only a humped bridge of breathing bark.

Abel: There was no response but that could be for any number of reasons. "I'm trying to talk to whoever it is," he told his companions, grabbing Pete's other hand. "They aren't saying anything back. I'll keep trying."

'We're coming up the stairs. It's okay, we aren't here to cause any harm. You're safe.' He reached out with his mind, letting the person or being's energy guide him to where they needed to go.

"This way."

Guildias: "I doubt they'd find much comfort in an invasive thought," Guildias muttered, looking back to inspect Peter's aversion of the root.

Pete/Abel: "Not barging in, Gil. Just ringing the doorbell."

Pete was trying very hard not to step on any bit that looked like it was made of tree root and being only partially successful. For all he knew the tree could feel all of them stepping on it and was waiting for the right time to strike. Maybe it was making Abel believe there was something upstairs when it was really just a trap designed to keep them all here, or worse, devour them whole.

"Are you ringing the doorbell on a person or another tree thing?"

"Jury's still out."

Guildias: "I think hearing a voice not your own in your mind is quite more than a doorbell." Had been his opinion since his most important murder.

The bedroom to the right, above the living room and kitchen, had long ago caved under the immense pressure. The bathroom visible by just a few feet. Its tile shattered and resigned from the walls. To the left, a small bedroom. The blue paint of the door crackled and chipped away. The breathing of the mother root, its stench, louder and more prominent.

Pete/Abel: "Not directly in it, just gently brushing against it. A whisper, like hearing something from far away."

Guildias probably didn't need a thorough explanation but Abel's babbling was more for his benefit than anyone else's. Anything to distract from the ruined house and smell of rotting flesh and the possibility that they were about to come upon a small little decomposing body.

"Guessing that's the one?" Pete asked, making an effort to breathe through his mouth. "Should we knock or just walk in?"

Guildias: "I'll go." Of those present, to his knowledge and current experience, Peter was most welcome in this umbral reality, but he'd risked enough.

His steps remained careful and deliberate, checking noisy floorboards as though hunting, mindful that the wrong step would dissolve their efforts.

The child's bedroom was as dust laden as the rest of the house. The roof collapsed by an enormous mother root.

Guildias reached behind for Peter. If ever there was a moment in which to keep a close grasp on the man, it was in seeing a boy, barely out of his toddling years, curled against the breathing black root, cradled between giant arm-like appendages. Eyes closed, breathing, suckling on a smaller thumb-like finger from one of the wrapped arms. This was not an appropriate moment for reflex action; perhaps his grasp of Peter was for himself.

Pete/Abel: Pete nodded. "Carefully, okay?" With the floors and everything else in the state they were in, he didn't like their odds of coming out of another altercation with those branches unscathed. Hell, he didn't like their odds of successfully walking across this floor without falling through.

He could see sky through the ceiling of the little boy's room. It had the same stench, the same lack of any sort of life apart from those damn--

"Oh..." he said softly. There he was. The little boy. Seemingly unharmed and sleeping peacefully as anything among the sentient roots.

Pete squeezed Guildias' hand just as Abel squeezed his. Much as he'd hoped this is what they would find, it was still a shock to see the kid safe. And alive.

He took a deep breath. "Thank God. We should..."

Abel nodded. "It should be you that goes and gets him."

Guildias: Abel was right, of course. Peter was the key to this going smoothly, whether he realized his capability or not. He would keep his mouth shut, being so near the entity. He hadn't realized how deep into the room he had stepped until needing Peter to take front and center.

Pete: "Guildias?" Pete barely whispered, squeezing the vampire's hand again. "How are we gonna do this?" Because he seriously doubted the tree was just going to let them take the little boy. For all that it was creepy and sentient and smelled like a rotting corpse, it seemed to be protecting him.

Guildias: "As you would... relieve an exhausted mother." The hold of the child was not hostile. There was no way to determine what was being fed to the boy, if anything. Something had rendered the child unconscious, evident by the gentle rise and fall of his stomach.

Pete: "I usually relieve an exhausted mother by taking her kids and watching them for a few hours so she can shower and sleep. But she doesn't have roots that'll kill us all for attempting to take him."

Guildias: "She's fallen asleep with her baby in her arms. I'm right behind you."

Pete/Abel: Pete took a deep breath. "Abel, any ideas?"

"Approach as non-threateningly as you can," Abel whispered. "Gil's right, the tree is protecting him. Look. It's cradling him, like a parent does. I don't think we're the only beings down here who care about that kid. Maybe that's why the tree tried to attack us downstairs. Here, let me--"

Abel took off his jacket and gave it to Pete to hold so he could take off his shirt. It was cleaner than the jacket and it would do to keep the little boy warm until they could get out of here.

Guildias: Guildias remained between them, kept his eyes on the root, studied its breathing, location of every hung and piled root, its grip on the child. He considered every possible angle, every reaction. They were in the heart of this house. Magic was unpredictable here. All of this on the suggestion of a Ravnos. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

Pete/Abel: Abel handed his shirt to Pete and put his jacket back on. "Remember, Petey, non-threatening. Come from a gentle, caring place, not a 'rescuing a tiny prince from a dragon' kind of place. The tree's kept that little kid safe down here and for that, I think it deserves our respect."

Pete nodded. Abel was right; whatever the circumstances, the tree was caring for that child. He turned to Guildias. "You have any advice?"

Guildias: Guildias forced half of his attention back to the pair, gestured with his free hand to keep their voices low. One of the reasons he was of few words.

"No. Fall back if something happens."

Pete: Another nod. "Okay," he whispered, taking a silent deep breath. Despite his apprehension, it didn't take much effort to approach the tree from a caring, gentle place. All he could see when he looked at that little boy was Graham. He couldn't begin to imagine how he'd feel if it were his nephew down here, lost and scared and away from everyone who loved him.

He had to bring this kid back to his parents.

Pete approached as slowly as he could, intending to crouch down when he was close enough and bundle up the kid.

Guildias: Still and silent he watched, ready to snatch for whatever bit of clothing he could fist. The surface objective was this child, but for the sake of others it was the well-being of the man in front of him. A promise not only to Callum, but the avoidance of Ravnos ire.

The tree exhaled a familiar musky odor. Contempt in its shiver for Peter's nearness. The child was lifted to a standing height, roughly shy of Peter's shoulders, and bundled with thin wispy black roots. The frequency of its rattling hiss turned Guildias' head in mild discomfort. Reminded him of a rattle snake. It was almost language, but the intent was clear.

Pete: Pete didn't let himself get agitated or make any sudden movements; he imagined he was in the serenity garden in the woods and forced himself to stay calm.

"I know you care about him," he said softly. "I know you've kept him safe and warm while he's been down here with you. If his mother knew that, she'd be grateful for it. She'd be grateful you kept her baby safe. She and his father miss him, they love him. He belongs up there with them, on the other side. I'm not here to hurt you, or him. I just want to take him back to his family."

Guildias: Peter's phrasing left him wondering. Was this, in fact, down or parallel to their reality? The association of down with Hell gave him pause. This was extrinsic, but nothing he could associate with the nightmares of Hell itself. Those of this reality must find their own as alien.

The sentient tree exhaled vibrations akin to words. Watching thin dark roots slowly covering the child's face and neck, a curious realization began to dawn on him.

Peter was slowly released; Abel pulled to replace him. He began to circle the enormous girth.

Pete/Abel: Both Pete and Abel looked to Guildias with identical looks of confusion.

"Gil, what are you doing?" Abel whispered, trying to move his lips as little as possible. It didn't seem like a good idea to draw attention to themselves when Pete was trying to reason with the tree. "We're at a delicate point in the process."

Guildias: "Hush." He placed his hand on the wall as a guide. The air between them thick enough to lose sight of all but their outline. He looked behind the tree, then turned towards the door, intent on inspecting the next set of sagging sleeping roots.

Pete: All right, okay, Guildias was doing this. Whatever the hell this was. Abel very much wanted to ask him what he was doing again but decided against it. He could always think it at him, but they probably wouldn’t be well received.

He’d just go with what was happening and keep one eye on Pete and the other on Guildias and keep his supernatural senses on the tree and the kid.

Guildias: There was a connection between what was happening to the child and the unpleasant lingering odor. He would not yet voice suspicions without evidence. He'd keep his hand to the wall, ribbed along a curtain of inky roots shivering from his dead touch. They recoiled, dissatisfied with what little they could learn from him. He watched, touched again, and then breathed life into his body. The shivers and low frequency hisses calmed with his growing warmth.

Guildias continued down the hallway, brushed his fingers along where a window should be, long since broken, dust covered, mostly replaced by the same living root.

The bathroom near the stairs. The same stench. He peered inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, irises becoming pale.

He almost missed it. A thin gray hoof peeking from a massive swallowing root. All that remained of an ungulate mammal.

Keeping his movements calm, Guildias turned, replaced his right hand to the wall and began the short journey back.

Pete/Abel: While Guildias did his thing, Pete debated his own next move. He'd said his piece to the tree and the tree hadn't seemed particularly receptive. It didn't seem particularly receptive to Guildias either, so saying more would only risk pissing it off and making it attack one of them or worse, hurt that little boy.

So...all he could do was wait.

He was doing a much better job of that than Abel, who was starting to feel antsy. Should he mentally ask Guildias what was happening? Probably not. He hadn't seemed thrilled with the idea of mental communication earlier.

Guildias: For a moment, Guildias wondered if the rooms had changed. The hallway felt longer than his initial roam. By at least twenty feet. The floor was layered by a thick blanket of roots. They breathed, reaching like long skeletal fingers for his boots, gripping with anemic strength to his clothes.

He reached down to brush away a particularly curious root. A gambler's knife, wrapped tightly in black tape, was pulled from his boot.

"Get away from it," he called, keeping his voice above a whisper.

Abel: Abel didn't need telling twice. He barely needed telling once, already on edge and itching to do something when he heard Guildias' voice. A voice that was absolutely not whispering like it had been before which meant something bad had happened.

He grabbed Pete's arm and yanked him a few giant steps back. "What?! What is it!?"

Guildias: "Follow my voice." He reached out into the mist, his knife-hand to the wall to continue guiding him back to the little bedroom.

Pete/Abel: "Follow--okay." Abel wouldn't question or hesitate, he just grabbed Pete's arm and held it tight. "Okay, okay. Come on, Petey."

Any hesitation was on Pete's part. It didn't feel right leaving the little boy behind, even if it was only for a short while. At least he hoped so. He also hoped to God that Guildias had an actual plan because what they had tried thus far just wasn't going to cut it. The Umbra might have accepted them, the tree might be standing down, but no way in hell was it going to let them leave with the kid just like that. They weren't that lucky.

Still, he'd do as he was asked; holding onto Abel with one hand and reaching out for Guildias with the other. "Keep talking so we can find you."

Guildias: What he grabbed was warmer than root, and fleshy. He assumed Abel for no reason. He pulled. Keeping close to the wall, he pulled his foot, breaking several clingy bits of brittle bark.

"Have you two remained in each other's sights?"

Pete/Abel: It was Pete’s hand, and it squeezed Guildias’ and held tight.

“Yes,” said Pete.

Abel nodded whether Guildias could see him for not. “The whole time, scout’s honor. What have you been doing? Are you okay?”

“What was that noise?” Pete looked around at the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

Guildias: He would answer all questions with a single-minded explanation. "I've regarded it as Mother of this house. If so, it's the kind of mother that eats her children. Loves them to death. What was it doing to the child last you saw?"

Pete/Abel: “Fucking fantastic,” Abel muttered under his breath.

Pete felt his heart leap into his throat. “It was covering him in more roots. Little ones, like it was trying to hide him. I thought it was trying t—we have to go back in there. We have to go, right now!”

Guildias: "I'm thinking we will be its next children if we don't act soon."

Pete: “Great, what do we do? Got a hatchet so we can cut the kid free?”

Guildias: "Can you conjure a hatchet?" Another root was pulled from his shoe. He lowered to give similar treatment to the pair.

Pete/Abel: “Magic works differently here but I can try,” said Abel. “Pete, you got anything hatchet-like?”

“I’ve got a pocketknife.”

Abel turned to Guildias. “Do you need the hatchet for the roots or for something else?” He needed to know how strong the blade needed to be. Altering was easier than conjuring; there was a slightly better chance of being able to magically alter Pete’s knife than conjuring up something else entirely.

Guildias: "It's for you... and what you're going to do to me." Guildias sat up again. "Don't remain stagnant." He began to remove his jacket, handed to Peter to wear or hold.

"If you're going to make attempt, do so now."

Pete/Abel: “Don’t remain—?” Right, the creepy fucking roots trying to mother them to death. Couldn’t stay still and let them.

“What exactly are we going to do?” Pete asked, accepting the jacket while Abel rooted around in his bag for the knife.

Guildias: "You're going to be quick taking the child. It should be occupied by mine and Abel's efforts. When he takes the child, Abel," he paused to make sure he was heard, "you need to be the leader back to the exit. Understood?"

Abel: Abel gave Guildias his full attention right up until he nodded that he understood. He didn't know what the vampire planned to do but he had to trust him; there was no room for hesitation or uncertainty on this side of the Veil.

"Pete, give me your wrist. I put three beacon crystals on you, there are three of us, and I'm not leaving anything to chance." He took the crystal from one of Pete's wrist and put it on Guildias'. The crystal on the chain was taken for himself. "Remember we have our other pendants that are warm when we're together. Tuck those into your shirts so you can feel them." He held up the knife. "Gil, I need you to tell me exactly what this is going to cut so I can make it strong enough."

Guildias: Guildias felt for Abel's gifts and nodded. He told himself this was an irrational leap, but the alternative was failure and it would haunt Peter for too long. If they tried to snatch the child, it could be as mothered as the unfortunate in the bathroom. Their efforts already brought the child closer to his death.

This was arduous no matter the plan. Efficiency was key.

Guildias began rolling the sleeve of his left arm. Two thin scars peeked from his shoulder.

"You're going to remove all of this. It'll be easier as you go along."

Pete/Abel: Pete's eyes widened. "Your arm? You want Abel to cut off your whole arm?!"

Abel blew out a long breath and tried to concentrate on the magic and not on the fact that he was pretty sure Pete was right and Guildias meant for him to lop off his arm. What he planned to do with the arm, Abel had no earthly or godly idea but dammit, this knife was going to do the job. No hesitation, no uncertainty.

He'd just hurl later.

Guildias: "Compose yourself. It'll grow back. We don't have time to be repulsed."

Pete: There was so much wrong with that statement Pete didn't know where to even begin. But Guildias was right, they were up against the clock at the moment.

"Fine, fine. What exactly are we going to do with you down an arm?"

Guildias: "You won't do anything. Your focus is the child, and ignoring everything else. Look away if you need to."

Pete: "Dude, we've gotta stop doing things that scar me for life when we hang out."

Guildias: "I'll always disturb you. We're on opposite sides of the page."

His gaze returned to Abel. "Are you ready?"

Pete/Abel: "You're a lot less disturbing when you've got all your parts attached."

Abel was deep in concentration and thus didn't answer. A hatchet sure as hell would've made the task easier and if he wanted to avoid carving that arm off like a butcher with a turkey, he knew he had to do his best to get this knife as close to one as possible.

He closed his eyes and held the blade in both hands, silently moving his lips as he recited a spell. The blade would lengthen, grow stronger, and fall heavier. Not a hatchet, but as close as he trusted himself to get. He was just grateful it seemed to work in this unpredictable environment.

"At the shoulder or the elbow?" he asked at long last.

Guildias: Guildias had intended shoulder, but he looked one last time to reconsider.

"Shoulder," he affirmed. He needed something he knew would be a worthy distraction. A little smaller than the child, but formidable.

"Ignore what I do next." He had to concentrate on his own spell. One he had to pull from memories from another body. A spell deliverable in every language, more potent in its original form, but tonight, spoken in the tongue of a former devoted student.

He reached for Peter, ignored his hand and squeezed his jacket. When the edge of the blade dug into dead flesh, he began to whisper in hissed, stuttered Hindi.

Pete/Abel: "Copy that," Abel sighed, steeling his nerve. He had to put some distance between himself and what he was about to do or he'd never be able to do it. "Petey, close your eyes and cover your ears, okay?"

This was venison. He was carving into venison, not the flesh of a friend. He'd done it a hundred times with his grandma and with his old mistress. He was just preparing dinner and definitely not separating this man's arm from his body with a magically enhanced blade.

Thankfully, the lack of blood helped that particular delusion.

Pete was way ahead of him. He was being flooded by deja vu, thinking back to the Draegan house and the last time he'd had to shield himself against something awful. The last time Guildias had tried to shield him from something awful.

Guildias: The Setite refused to scream. Forced his prayer to continue, stumbling from Hindi to Coptic and back with a slam of his fist to the living wall. The roots shivered and lashed defensively, retreated by an inch to avoid another bashing.

The drooped frozen fingers began to move, twisting backward and forward in sharp unnatural convulses.

"raakshason kee maata. raakshason kee maata."

His head bowed, loose strands hiding his face as he dry-heaved. Words hissed and spat as dead flesh mangled itself and reshaped, thickening as it gurgled like a monstrous coo of a child.

"Get the child." Blindly, he offered his knife to Peter. "Move."

Pete/Abel: "You're okay, Gil. You're okay, promise."

God, the noises. It was like when he'd gone hunting with Callum's family only a million times worse knowing it was Callum's husband and not an animal.

Pete only dared open his eyes when he was certain the cutting noises had stopped but he still didn't look. There were other noises happening and he really didn't want to know what was making them. He just kept his head turned and his feet moving and told himself there was nothing out of the ordinary.

He was off like a shot when Guildias gave him the word, just barely managing to take the knife from him in his haste to get back into the room and back to the kid. Pete had no fucking idea what was happening but what he did know was that he was going to cut that child free of those creepy fucking branches and take him back to family come hell or high water.

You can't have him. I won't let you. I'm taking him back.

Guildias: Peter was not alone. Guildias stumbled behind, keeping Abel within sight, but it was not the vampire trailing at the Gurahl's heels. The screech of what followed rang through the desolate house and down the Setite's throat. His intent woven into its resolute action. A hideous taupe creature a quarter Peter's height slithered on its thick lepidote tail and two bony hand-like appendages. Fangs curved and so large it could not close its mouth. Its tiny claws dug and splintered the hardwood floor to propel itself. Torso violently undulating with every snatch of the floor. Its breathing came rapid, chittering with sanguineous excitement.

It waited impatiently for Peter to attempt for the child before throwing itself upon the sagging mother root with a scream so shrill Guildias would swear hurt his eyes. It tore at the smaller surrounding roots. Sunk its fangs into fleshy bark and clawed like a rabid animal. The tree reacted quickly. Exhaling a stench so foul the air became thick and acrid. Desperate roots from above and below whipped at the creature, tried to grab its unruly tail. Its new insolent child was enough to occupy its conscious.

Pete/Abel: Ungodly. That was the only way Pete could describe the noises and the screeching and the sensations creeping over his skin as surely as if whatever was behind him were crawling all over him. It didn't matter what horrible magic Guildias had done to help him and he sure as hell wasn't about to look and find out.

Not when it gave that blood-curdling shriek that threatened to scramble his brain or tore at the roots and made the tree release a stench that could be nothing but the smell of rotting, burning Hell itself. Pete just kept his eyes on that little boy, wrapping him in Abel's shirt and tucking him close to protect him from the stench and the screaming and the few remaining roots that clung desperately to any part of him that they could before Abel stepped in to slice them away.

"We're going now! NOW!"

Guildias: Guildias swallowed down the false effort of breathing. He wanted no part of that stench. The guardianship of his monster was relinquished to the tree. Whatever it intended to do was or no consequence, so long as they reached the way out.

Don't stop. Not for the clingy roots or the noises upstairs. Keep moving.

Abel: That's exactly what Abel planned to do. He wanted out of this upside down, creepy ass Alice in Wonderland nightmarish hellscape and the smell of decomposing flesh and god only knew what else.

"GIL, HOLD ON TO PETE WITH YOUR ONLY HAND, PETE HOLD ON TO ME WITH YOUR FREE ONE LET'S GO!"

Down the crumbly stairs and over all the holes and rotting wood and dust to the gate. If a tiny part of him wondered if that fucking tree had the power to close the entrance it was quickly and viciously tramped down. He had even less time to dwell on that than he'd had to dwell on Guildias' missing arm.

Guildias: When this was finished, Guildias intended to have a laugh at Abel's choice of words. Seemed quite appropriate for a familiar. Just a little too obnoxious.

He held to the back of Peter's clothing, glanced back to observe the shriveling roots, reflecting the upstairs turmoil.

Abel: This couldn't be over soon enough. It almost seemed like the house had grown somehow while they'd been upstairs, no doubt having intended to trap them all here until it could absorb them into its maw. Made perfect sense now why this place smelled like decomp.

It wasn't like decomp, it was decomp, from what were probably untold masses of beings from their realm and countless others who'd had the misfortune of getting trapped here with that tree since time immemorial.

But not them.

They had arrived at the exit. Abel climbed through as quickly as he could, shouting for whoever was near to help him pull out Pete and Guildias and the little boy.

MJ/Rosmond: MJ looked back towards the sound, hesitant to move due to the camera. Rosmond was Abel's first responder, grabbing hold of what he could see and pulling with calculated strength. Now was not the time to begin questioning the strange sticky substance covering their bodies from head-to-toe.

Pete/Abel: Having known what to expect the second time around, Pete did his best to shield his face and the kid’s from the Umbra lube, as Abel had proclaimed it. If he couldn’t shield himself completely, then at least he could for the kid, who was safely bundled in Abel’s shirt and half tucked into Pete’s jacket.

The first thing Pete did as soon as they were free—after wiping his face as best he could—was check to make sure the kid was breathing and okay.

Guildias/Rosmond: Guildias' eyes remained closed as he emerged. His missing limb went unnoticed as Rosmond inspected the child, only taking pause when he caught the Setite holding an empty space at his shoulder.

He would ask later.

"We were not here. Leave the child in the grass. Don't touch anything on the way out."

Pete: Pete was only half paying attention to Rosmond.

He needed to see that tiny little chest moving up and down with each breath, needed to feel the reassuring thump of a pulse in that tiny little wrist.

“You’re okay, buddy,” he whispered, using the shirt to clean off any goop that had managed to cover the boy. He wasn’t sure if this was why Abel had asked him to bring an extra sweater, but this was as good a reason as any to finally take it out of his bag.

Spring was right around the corner but it was still chilly at night and in the mornings. Too chilly for a little boy to just be out here in his pajamas. He’d survived the Umbra and a sentient tree; Pete wasn’t about to let the elements get him.

Guildias/Rosmond: Guildias turned to check the wall for residue. Rosmond was right of course; there could be no suspicion. They'd covered most of their tracks; the last mile was the most arduous.

Rosmond studied the child and Peter's worried brow, assessed their quiet acquaintance and turned back.

"A message to Charon and an anonymous phone call will be made. None of us are doctors. You must trust the plan."

A gentler, less chilly approach was required. This much Guildias understood, placing his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Calloway or I can stay and watch from the woods, but the child is not under Rosmond's influence."

Pete: “I’m not leaving him,” Pete said softly, bundling the little boy into the sweater as gently as if he were a newborn. “I’m not going anywhere until this child is back in his mother’s arms. I’ll watch from the woods.”

Guildias: "They will search these woods. I'm at no strength to conceal you."

Abel: "I am," Abel finally piped up. "I can hide us with magic, we don't even have to rely on the cover of the trees."

MJ/Rosmond: "That FBI SUV's gotta go," said MJ.

"I can trust you to keep them safe, Mr. Harrington?" Rosmond stared forwardly.

Abel: "You can bet your life on it, Rosmond. I have all kinds of tricks up my sleeve." And demonic backup just a thought away as well as in his pockets.

MJ/Guildias/Rosmond: Rosmond studied those eyes, finding nothing of fault, he nodded. Turned his expression on Guildias.

"You're coming with me. Mr. Calloway-"

"I got em. I'll text ya."

Another nod. The two began to retrace their steps back to the SUV. Only a glance back from the Setite.

Abel: Abel gave Guildias a smile and a wave. “See you soon, Gil. Sorry about the whole...” He gestured at where the vampire’s arm was supposed to be. “I’ll make it up to you after I get very drunk and repress that memory.”

MJ: "Told y'all not t'come back armless. What the fuck happ - after. After. We gotta put him down somewhere noticeable."

Pete/Abel: "You had to go and put it out there," Abel muttered, digging in his pockets. After would have to wait for both the boy to be found, Abel to get drunk, and several days to pass. He needed time to process what the hell kind of night he was having.

Pete was already carrying the little boy to the front porch. He couldn't bring himself to leave him on the lawn; made more sense that he'd fall asleep on the porch after wandering out of the woods. That's the story he assumed Rosmond and Prince were going to go with, and as far as mysteries went, it was the simplest.

MJ/Rosmond: The point, Rosmond believed, was not to implement the family and have the child taken away on suspicions. Whatever the intention, in truth he did not care. The call would be made by Charon saying a child had been spotted. From there it was out of their hands. This mission had been about the people within, not the child in Peter's arms. His assessment found him impressed with Guildias' willingness of both life and limb. Everyone in some capacity played their role well.

MJ gently tugged on Peter's sleeve, encouraging him from the slumbering little boy. The sweater had to go. Fuck if he could tell if any hair had transferred from Peter. A last minute thought.

"You're probably leavin' trace." He looked to Abel. "Is there anything ya can do?"

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't move. He couldn't. He was frozen to the spot, imagining all the ways this could've gone so much worse than it did, seemingly unable to keep from picturing Mary and Graham in the clutches of that tree.

Abel nodded at MJ. "I'll cut the labels from the sweater so it can't be ID'ed. Feel like slipping in and seeing if they have tape or a lint roller? I'll keep Petey company."

MJ: "Easier t'just take the damn thing. I dunno how long them people are gonna stay asleep."

Abel: Abel subtly nodded toward Pete and gave MJ a look that said that wasn’t going to happen.

“Be fast. Most people keep lint rollers in the laundry room.”

MJ: "I can't magic away a hair of yours in his own. They'll comb it, Peter. Don't hover over him."

Abel: “Wait, I can—ugh, this night.” For a moment he’d forgotten he could teleport. “I’ll go, you stay.”

And he was gone.

MJ: "Well no shit!" The fuck happened, he thought. All three of them with flies and haze in their head. Faraway looks in their eyes. Lack of critical thinking.

"Y'all were only in there five minutes. What was it?"

Pete: Pete finally looked up, brow furrowed slightly, as though deep in thought.

“It was five minutes for you?”

MJ: "Yeah... So how long was it?"

Pete: “I don’t know. Longer.”

MJ: "Kay. Where was it?"

Pete: “Here, but different. Wrong.”

MJ: "God y'all are rubbin' off on me. Where was he?"

Pete/Abel: “In his room with the tree.”

Abel reappeared in almost the exact same spot he’d disappeared from with lint roller in hand.

“Back! Okay okay okay.” He began gently—and quickly—going over the sweater, paying close attention to the areas most likely to have any stray Pete hairs. Chances were that any hairs would come up very bear-like when examined but even so, it paid to be on the safe side.

MJ: "In a room with the tree. Okay. We gotta move him to the front of the house. I'll finish with the cam here. Wait for me 'round the corner. Don't go t'the front yet."

Abel: Abel nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Just let me...” He carefully cut the label off the neck of the sweater. “Okay, done. Come on, Petey, let’s go wait for MJ.”

MJ: The backyard was untouched. No one had been there. The final bit of illusion belonged to the front yard, moving carefully to the next camera for the same treatment. The child was given a once over. Something of his likeness needed to walk from the eastern woods to the porch and lay in the most natural position Peter could place him. Had to be natural, he reminded. Not swaddled.

Pete/Abel: Pulling the sweater over the little boy's head--after Abel had smeared some dirt on it to make it seem like it had been found in the woods--was as natural as Pete could make it. On his side, with the too-long sleeves providing some cushion for his head.

"How's that?"

MJ: It would have to do. "Kay. Let's go." With little consideration, he took hold of Peter's hand and tugged. Free hand still directed towards the last camera, praying to no one that he'd maintained concentration enough.

Pete/Abel: Pete was still reluctant to go but he knew it would do no good to linger. What that kid needed more than anything else in the world was to be back with his family and if all went well, he would be before long.

"Come on, Petey," said Abel. "He'll be okay. Let's head for those bushes there so I can hide us until he's found."

MJ: MJ was last to follow, walking backwards carefully until reaching the woods. Certain that Abel could shield him when the moment was right. Finally dropping his hand, he took an unneeded breath and made the text to Rosmond.

Abel: Of course Abel could shield them; he was Xavier Atlas' familiar. Half his time was spent breaking into some house or private collection or another with his master. Pulling one over on human cops? Just another day.

When they were all settled, he took a talisman from his pocket and began murmuring a chant. He'd done it without the talisman before but it was a good safety net just in case. If anyone were to look in their direction once he was finished, all they would see would be shadows.

"And now we wait."

MJ: Not his first time observing Abel's magic. He made it look so effortless. So real. Far better than his version of concealment, having to memorize surroundings in order to mimic. Superior magic. For now.

Still waiting. And would wait for some time. After Rosmond had made certain to place distance between his vehicle and the house.

"Ya good, Peter?"

Pete: Pete shrugged, only half paying attention to what Abel was doing or how much time had passed. His eyes and his brain were glued to the porch.

“Been worse.”

MJ: "The call's been made. Just a little longer."

Abel: Abel wrapped an arm around Pete’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hear that? Won’t be long now. Then we can get a huge bottle of tequila and process our PTSD.”

MJ: "Y'all make it sound like y'all came outta Hell."

Abel: “We didn’t not not go to Hell, at least that’s what it felt like. I cut off a man’s arm. It’s been a stressful night.”

MJ: "You cut Guildias up?"

Abel: Abel gave a single nod. "He asked me to."

MJ: "Fuckin' why?"

Abel: "To save the kid from a horrifying sentient tree."

MJ: "Just threw his fuckin' arm at it?"

Abel: He shook his head. “Not exactly. It—he did...something and his arm wasn’t...an arm anymore. It was something else and that—something distracted the tree so we could grab the kid and get the hell out of that creepy Alice in Wonderland hellscape.”

MJ: "Huh." Maybe that was why Rosmond spoke the way he did, and why he'd been suggested for the mission. Another reason, he thought.

Abel: “Then there was the Umbra lube and the dust that didn’t behave like dust should behave and the smell of the decomposing flesh of the other unfortunate beings who’d found themselves in the clutches of the tree and been mothered to death by it.”

MJ: "Sounds like a Tool video." He tried to laugh. Came more as a cough.

Abel: “God I wish. That would’ve been easier to deal with. And less scarring.”

MJ: "Since when'd ya ever watch -" Hands clasped down on Peter and Abel's shoulders. Tires. Old, terrible oil. Had to be the oldest damn squad car he'd ever seen. He braced himself between the two men, half-standing and ready to react.

Abel: "In that dive bar in Colorado with that dude with the skunk stripes in his hair."

Abel turned toward the sound of the car and sighed. Finally. "Don't worry, they won't be able to hear us. We'll sound like wind to them."

MJ: "Baby boy's been found. So we should..." MJ considered a moment, dropped his hand from Peter's shoulder. "Mafia gave ya lookin' glass. The loupe. Check it."

Pete/Abel: Pete seemed to stir from a trance that broke the moment MJ moved his hand. His attention was still focused on the boy and the house, and he wasn't ready to move until he saw the parents come out and hug their child.

"Looking glass? Oh, right." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the loupe.

"Want to check the portal?" Abel asked.

MJ: "Yeah. Or this'll just start again."

Pete: Pete held up the loupe and turned in the direction from which they'd come, holding there for a moment before scanning the rest of the house.

"I don't see anything. Does that mean it closed?"

MJ: "Guess so. Rosmond would know more. S'why I went t'them. We make our money differently."

Pete: Some of the tension drained from Pete's shoulders. He still wasn't thrilled about how much information the prince had, but knowing that damn portal had closed made him feel a lot better about this whole situation.

"You made the right call. On Rosmond and on going in to save the kid. Thank you."

MJ: "Ya hate him, right? Rosmond. Gertrude. Ya hate em on my behalf or some shit." He watched the cop as he continued to bang on the front door. Lights upstairs switching on. Sirens in the distance.

Pete: Pete shook his head. “I don’t hate them. I dislike what they represent and I resent it, but I don’t hate them. Hating takes energy I’d rather spend on something else.”

Some more tension eased as the house started waking up. Soon, very soon.

MJ: "I know a little thing 'bout artful wordin'." His eyes fell to the bracken. "Part of the job. I don't hate any of em, either."

Abel was given a pat. "Let's start backin' out."

Pete/Abel: “I know it sounds like bull,” Pete sighed. “But it’s the truth. I have no beef with the mafia lieutenant or with the don.”

Abel shook his head. “Not yet. We haven’t gotten our emotional resolution yet.”

MJ: "Then read a book! Probably gonna put em on an ambulance, first."

Abel: "They better," said Abel. "No telling what he went through before we got there." He caught MJ's eye and gave him a look. 'Petey needs this,' he thought to him. 'All this struck close to home.'

MJ: 'Why though?' He didn't mean to seem callous, but their priorities were going in separate directions. His job had been the outside of the house, their mission finished in five minutes from his perspective. His urgency was in leaving, and the safety of the crouching men.

Abel: 'He's got a nephew and a little baby niece. Their photos are all over his house, they've got their own room for when they stay over. I saw his face in there. He was looking at the little boy but he was seeing his family.'

MJ: 'Too long.' A thought for himself, projected accidentally. Peter's reaction solidified his reason for being so adamant about renewing their relationship. A few years and circumstances had changed them into different men. The fumbling angry boys at a carnival were ghosts.

MJ took a step back, slowly retreating in their initial direction.

Abel: 'What's too long? Hey, don't move! This spell's got a range and it's not that big!'

MJ: MJ took to crouching a ways away, where Abel began his mental shout. Still watchful, ready to protect, but from here he felt more perceptive.

Pete: Pete was completely unaware of the silent conversation happening around him. He was too busy watching the house and the lights from the police cars, listening for the approach of an ambulance.

Despite the presence of help, he still didn't feel completely at ease. That wouldn't happen until that little boy's mother finally came out of the house. Pete watched the confusion and delight and relief play over her face as she was briefed by the officers and finally, finally got to hold her baby again. He heard her grateful prayers and thanks through her sobs and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"We can go now," he said.

MJ: Peter was ready, at last. His willingness to engage loosened a knot in MJ's shoulder. He wanted to reach for him again. Take his hand and pull him under his arm and back them way they came. They would do all of that, but not hand-in-hand. He wanted to, but the gesture in the moment felt empty.

"Come on, then."

Abel: "And that has made this all worth it," Abel said cheerfully, getting to his feet and helping Pete do the same. "Okay, everyone grab a hand. We going back to Pete's?"

MJ: "Sure." What he really wanted was a large rock in the middle of a lake to lay on. Smoke a cigarette and listen to stories of the world he'd been denied. He wanted to watch Guildias grow his arm back. Listen to Peter's voice and fall asleep with Abel's head in his lap.

Pete/Abel: “Actually...” Pete looked between them. “Can we go to the river? I want a swim.”

Abel nodded. “Sure. You and MJ can swim and I’ll get us some supplies and we can get really drunk.”

MJ: "Y'all get really drunk." He shouldn't have been surprised by Peter's request, but its lost familiarity took him from his guard. "Let's do it. Behind Callum's place is safe."

Abel: “We’ll get drunk for us and for Gil and for you.” Abel took their hands and gave them each a squeeze.

“Brace yourselves.”

He gave them a moment and in an instant, the burgeoning crime scene was replaced by Callum’s dock and the tranquility of the river.

MJ: Not a moment after his feet landed upon soft grass did he begin to strip of his heavy jacket and boots. Hopping on one foot to remove socks and waddle towards the dock while arguing with his old belt. A trail of evidence left behind without once looking back towards the house.

Pete/Abel: Pete followed soon after, but not without taking a moment for the world (and his stomach) to settle. Impossible to get used to that feeling.

“You okay, Petey?”

Pete nodded. “Yep, I’m good. I’m gonna...” He gestured toward the river.

“Yes, swim. I’ll be back.”

And Abel disappeared again.

MJ: MJ remained crouched at the very edge of the dock. Arms against his knees as he watched the water. Waited for Peter to join him, looking over his shoulder to smile.

Pete: Finally being able to take off clothes covered in Umbra slime was the best Pete had felt all night. There was no way in hell a wash was going to save these. They needed burning.

He sighed in relief as he went to join MJ. “What?” he chuckled.

MJ: "Ya ever seen that film, uh, Poltergeist?"

Pete: “Yep, and I’ve hated clowns ever since.”

MJ: "That's you right now, with the shit all over ya."

Pete: “Goddamn Umbra lube. Felt like I was being waterboarded when we first went in. Ready to get it off.”

Without ceremony, he leapt into the water.

MJ: MJ watched a moment, as though waiting for something to happen. Some unforeseen reaction. Only when Peter emerged did he drop with dead weight into the water.

Pete: Pete’s entire body seemed to sigh in relief. The river felt just as good as any shower, maybe even better. Cold be damned.

“Fucking—it’s in my chest hair!”

MJ: "It sure is." He reached for his chest and flinched back - tried to play his retreat back by combing his own hair.

Pete: “Ugh...” He scrubbed at his skin, trying to get it off and trying not to notice that MJ had wanted to touch him.

“My skin and the water around me aren’t reacting, right?”

MJ: "Can't tell, honestly. Ain't got that sweet ass night vision like ya."

Pete: He scrubbed some more. “Well, no itching, burning, or glowing so far. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

MJ: "Guildias'll probably keep some, or Rosmond'll make him keep some. For science n'shit."

Pete: Pete squeezed some slime out of his facial hair and examined it closely. "I wonder what actual science would come up with if this stuff was tested. I'm guessing the kind of science they would do is actually magic."

MJ: "The kinda shit Giovanni do is like Frankenstein's madhouse. Science n'magic sorta become the same shit."

Pete: "I've been to Frankenstein's madhouse, it sucks."

MJ: "Talkin' 'bout Umbra?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah. Worse place I've ever been and I was in a microscopic part of it."

MJ: "I can't say from experience it's better or worse. It reflects. That's all I got."

Pete: "Sure does, like a funhouse mirror from hell." Some more scrubbing at his skin and hair and back below the surface he went.

MJ: "Ya know-" He'd wait for his return. "If ya feel that gross just go take a shower. His place is right there."

Pete: Pete shook the water from his head. “I’ll get around to it. I wanted a swim first. You know my thing with the river, always helps clear my head.”

MJ: "Yeah. Got a love-hate relationship with em."

Pete: “You currently on the love side or the hate side?”

MJ: "Got love for it right now."

Pete: “Glad to hear it.” Pete shifted to float on his back and heaved a long, content sigh.

“....So this whole time Guildias has been able grow limbs back like a lizard?”

MJ: Peter was watched for a moment before joining, staring at the sky. "We call can."

Pete: “Wait, seriously?! Is it magic or?”

MJ: "I mean, it's the blood. Takes a bunch, but he'll be his old cobra-self in no time."

Pete: “It’s crazy isn’t it? All blood does for the living is get oxygen everywhere so tissue and organs stay alive. Give some to a vampire and limbs grow back.”

MJ: "The moon's a rock in outer space n'ya become a fuckin' bear."

Pete/Abel: He snorted. "Touche. Never thought life would be so goddamn weird."

The rustle of plastic bags and clinking of bottles signaled Abel's return. "I'm back! I've got tequila and snacks and a snack for MJ!"

MJ: MJ looked towards the sound and smiled again.

"Your wrist? Fuckin' delicious."

Abel: "Nope, not mine, although good to know I have the appeal to you that a cheeseburger does to me. How would you feel about a taste of our own lovely Isabel, who was all moony-eyed over you going into the netherworld on a rescue mission? Don't worry, I didn't tell her you didn't actually go in."

MJ: "Mm, moon-y blood. Probably tastes better. I mean way better. It's Isabel."

A wink to Peter. Harmless teasing, he swears.

"Hey, I kept y'all from gettin' caught. The mafia and I are essential workers!"

Pete/Abel: Pete gave a good-natured chuckle. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Isabel is cute?”

Abel nodded. “Oh yeah, super cute with an adorable accent. She’s from Mexico.” He grinned over at MJ as he started unpacking the bags. “Damn right, Aquaman. You earned this moony blood and Petey earned his tequila. Come and get it.”

MJ: MJ climbed back onto the docks, allowing his feet to dangle.

"Ya know the whole 'if ya don't use it ya lose it'? She keeps me honest with my Spanish." He didn't have his mother and sister to speak to anymore. Not like that. The quick texts he could manage in good conscience with Kenna were in English. No phone call in years now.

"So what ya do with all the uh... goo?" he pointed over Abel's body.

Pete/Abel: After allowing himself one more dunk, Pete followed suit. It wasn't a shower and it was cold as fuck but the water felt great.

"We all need someone like that," he said as he hoisted himself up. "My mentor and his family still help me with my French." He accepted the bottle of tequila from Abel with a grateful nod.

Abel looked down at his chest. Most of the slime was gone but some still remained. "Isabel sprayed me off with the hose in the garden after Xavier took a sample."

MJ: "Of course he did." MJ smiled privately to Peter. "Sprayed ya down with a fuckin' hose. I love our life."

MJ glanced back to the house one last time, expecting a light; expecting to see Rosmond's SUV round the corner. Too soon. Abel had taken advantage of fewer numbers and now they'd have some explaining to do to Callum should he spot them first.

He kept those thoughts to himself and enjoyed a bit of Isabel.

Pete/Abel: Pete chuckled to himself. 'Took a sample' sounded like Rosmond and Gertrude weren't going to be the only ones doing some magic-science.

"Hey, it did the job. Petey, I got us some goldfish and hot fries and nachos. And stuff to turn the tequila into margaritas!"

A laugh this time. "You brought margarita supplies?"

"Hells yeah! Want one?"

"Hit me."

MJ: "Fuck, how much did ya fuckin' buy?" It all smelled... interesting. Food but not food. Familiar but unwholesome. A scent of memories and nothing more.

Abel: "A good bit. We've earned it." The only thing he hadn't bought was ice but that was no problem for someone with magic; as long as he had the essentials, they were golden. "Some lime juice, some salt, some tequila, and a dash of magic combined in the finest cocktail shaker the liquor store could offer. We shake it up." He shook it. "And we've got some much-earned catharsis. Hand me a solo cup."

MJ: MJ handed the cup over, watching the river as he supped. He could smell everything described and then some. Still smell the moisture of Umbra over Abel's skin and hair; could smell Xavier's cologne. Something about it was peaceful.

"Xavier ask 101 questions?"

Abel: Abel poured Pete’s margarita and handed it over. “Only a few,” he said, pouring his own. “Told him we would answer the rest tomorrow after I got really drunk. He’s probably coming up with more now that he has the lube.”

MJ: "We didn't not tell him what we were doin'," he felt the need to remind.

Abel: “We gave him a general idea. He’s a detail kinda guy, an exhaustive detail kinda guy. We basically went to Disneyland and didn’t take him, he’s curious.”

MJ: "Wonder where the fuck that comes from." A quick look back to his clothes before remembering he was fresh out of cigarettes. He missed pot. Alcohol was also acceptable, but he had no intention to bite either of them if offered. Teasing was one thing.

"He'd probably want a piece of your hair, too."

Pete/Abel: “This is the same man who breaks into places for fun. He likes to get into locked places and learn their secrets.”

Pete downed half his margarita and hummed thoughtfully. “So he’s a cat.”

MJ: "Ya know, if he were any animal... I imagine, like... a German shepherd, or Doberman. Somethin' overly groomed n'got that stance at dog shows."

Pete/Abel: “A show dog with the curiosity of a cat.”

“I’d say Doberman for sure,” Abel said, nodding sagely. “They always look intimidating.”

MJ: "He doesn't scare me." Maybe he should have. The night of merge, it was not MJ's body curled in a corner, shivering and mumbling, awaiting for capture. It was a handful of salt and a determination to flee no matter the cost. A chapter in his life more surreal than memory could recount.

Abel: “Well of course he doesn’t. He loves you. Scary people don’t look scary to their families and friends.”

MJ: "Isn't that what God's supposed t'be?"

Abel: “Which one?” Abel asked around a handful of goldfish.

MJ: "Respect is fear or some shit."

Pete: Pete shook his head. “They’re not. Fearing someone and respecting them are two different things but there are always people who think they’re one and the same.”

MJ: "Depends on the person. Not the one lookin', but the one they're lookin' at." He thoughtfully stared at the half-empty blood bag.

Abel: Abel shook his head. “This is too deep a conversation after the night we’ve had. We need more booze.”

MJ: "Right. So how 'bout them Knicks?"

Pete/Abel: “Which sport do they play?”

Pete chuckled. “Basketball.”

“Ah, the tall sport!”

MJ: "Yeah. The that," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: “Either of you ever play?”

“Nope.” Pete shook his head. “I play soccer.”

MJ: "Baseball."

Abel: “Look at you two, so athletic.” Abel mixed another round of margaritas, refilled their cups. “That must be why Xavier gets you that primo Olympian blood.”

MJ: "Never gonna be an athlete." It was a nice gesture, though. "Just get t'keep the body of it."

Abel: “And you don’t have to be sweaty and sore! That’s gotta be a nice bonus. Speaking of, are you still hungry? I’ve got more Isabel.”

MJ: "She a fuckin' mummy now? How much did ya take?"

Abel: “Nah, she’s fine. Did you see that the bag is smaller than normal? She gave a couple small ones, not two normal size ones.”

MJ: "All this for the kid?"

Abel: “All the nice girls like an Indiana Jones type.”

MJ: "Just wait 'til she hears 'bout Peter."

Pete/Abel: “I’m an Indiana Jones type now?”

Abel clapped him on the back. “Of course you are! Sure you can’t ever tell anyone and have them buy you drinks because of it but it still counts.”

MJ: "I'll buy ya a drink," he grinned.

Pete: Pete grinned right back. “Imma hold you to that. Getting covered in Umbra slime’s gotta be worth something.”

MJ: "Your real prize is a job well done," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: "You're absolutely right. Slime's a small price to pay for getting that kid back safely. With any luck he's not horribly scarred for life."

Abel shook his head. "Don't worry, Petey. Chances are if he does remember and does tell someone, they won't believe him. They'll chalk it up to a nightmare or to trauma, like humans always do, and if he hears it enough he'll start to believe it."

MJ: "That's how it goes," sighed MJ. "For their own good." For the most part, he believed that. More than he had initially. He didn't care to dwell on the why.

Pete: "In this case, I'd say that's the best case scenario," Pete sighed. "What we managed to see was horrible. Imagine what he saw before we got there."

MJ: "Well I can't. Y'all won't tell me."

Pete: "Did you miss the part where Abel told you about the sentient tree and having to cut off Guildias' arm?"

MJ: "I want the juicy details, goddammit."

Abel: "They're such gross details," said Abel, making a face. "I used to hunt with my dad, I can prep an elk or a bird but a person? That was fucked up."

MJ: "It's Guildias though. Bet he didn't even whimper."

Abel: "I don't fucking know how he managed to stay quiet. I know he wanted to scream. Man's got an iron will."

MJ: "Could the tree, ya know, hear y'all?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah. It could talk too, in some weird tree language that barely sounded like a language."

MJ: "Did y'all fight a fuckin' Ent?"

Abel: Abel shook his head. “It didn’t move around or have a face. It was rooted to one spot like a normal tree and the creepy roots extended everywhere.”

MJ: "Mmkay. Scratch one off of Ent." Another sip of sweet-metallic vitae, staring out across the river.

"I think we've earned a four-day weekend."

Pete/Abel: Pete polished off his second margarita. “I also wouldn’t call it much of a fight. Guildias distracted it and I just moved fast.”

“We have,” said Abel. “We’re starting on it right now.”

MJ: "Could it have gone without Guildias loppin' an arm off?"

Pete: They both shook their heads but it was Pete who said, “I don’t see how. We didn’t have any bargaining chips.”

MJ: "That bad, huh? Shit..."

Abel: Abel shrugged. “Maybe we would’ve had a chance under different circumstances but the tree was getting ready to kill the kid. We didn’t have time to think up an alternative, and we weren’t armed for a sentient tree.”

MJ: "I'll keep that in mind for the next Umbral mission." He watched the two of them a moment, suddenly taken by gratitude to find them in one piece.

Abel: "I am not getting covered in lube again unless it's for a damn good reason," said Abel, mixing yet another round of margaritas. "We need to find a rescue mission in like...Hawaii."

MJ: "I ain't ever been," MJ said. "Ain't crossed my mind."

Abel: "We should go! Petey and I will drink rum out a coconut and you can drink blood out of a coconut and we'll all sit on the beach for days on end doing nothing."

MJ: "Y'all do days, I'll do nights. But coconuts yes. N'Peter can get lost in the mountains on the full moon."

Pete: Pete snorted. "Or we could go when it's not a full moon. All that fur in that heat? I'd spend the full moon hiding in the ocean."

MJ: MJ looked to Abel. "Know any were-peeps Peter can hang out with on the full moon?"

Abel: "In Hawaii? No. But I can hang out with Pete on the full moon."

MJ: "You're hardly a were-anything."

Abel: “Neither is Callum and he hangs out with Pete on the full moon. It’s about companionship.”

MJ: "How d'ya know so much?"

Pete: “I told him,” Pete chimed in, devouring a handful of Goldfish. “We had time to talk before ya’ll came to pick us up.”

MJ: "A shit ton." Apparently.

Abel: “We talk fast,” Abel said cheerfully. “We needed to bond. Plus ya’ll took forever.”

MJ: "I like that." He wasn't surprised; this was Abel, after all. The man befriended a snake just because he could.

"I don't think I've ever heard ya talk fast," he smiled at Peter.

Pete/Abel: Pete chuckled. “I usually don’t. Didn’t think I could. I blame Abel, I was just trying to keep up.”

“Very few can.” Abel poured them another round and toasted Pete with his. “Here’s to you, Petey. L’chaim.”

MJ: "Ya've joined the club. Welcome. We don't have tee shirts or hats; we got loyalty and free arguments."

Pete/Abel: “I’ll take both.” He clicked solo cups with Abel and downed the contents. The world was beginning to take on a very pleasant haze. His head had started to feel lighter, more floaty. The perfect place to be after the night they’d had.

“What if we got T-shirts? Everyone lives a T-shirt.”

Abel nodded. “They do.”

MJ: "Shirts just for us, or the whole crew?" He couldn't imagine Rosmond wearing one, nor Guildias for that matter.

Pete: “For everyone!” Pete said cheerfully. “I’d pay good money to see Guildias in a T-shirt.”

MJ: "Ya'd know more than me at this point. I ain't seen it."

Pete: “I bet Cal’s seen him in a T-shirt since they’re married.”

MJ: "I don't think 'bout that shit." Not for some years now. Didn't seem fair to even consider.

Pete/Abel: Pete giggled to himself imagining Guildias in something as casual as a T-shirt. It seemed way too normal a thing for Mr. GQ.

“Oooh! I know what we should put on the shirts!” Abel announced. “How about, ‘I went to the Umbra and all I got was lube and this lousy T-shirt’?”

MJ: "Ha. Hell yeah. Xavier'll have t'wait for the next mission, then. He ain't gettin' shit this time."

Abel: Abel snorted. “There’s a man who would never wear a T-shirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in any shirt without buttons and a collar.”

MJ: "I think s'time we steal his clothes."

Pete/Abel: He gave a dramatic gasp. “That’s so sneaky! He’d be so pissed,” Abel laughed. “We should steal everything and only leave him the T-shirt, some jeans, and tennis shoes so he has no choice but to wear it.”

Pete snorted. “Or he’ll just be naked until ya’ll give them back.”

MJ: "Wouldn't put it past him t'just walk 'round naked. He'd make some artistic excuse for it. Pretend the clothes aren't missin'."

Abel: “Or, or!” Abel laughed again. “He’d make us go suit shopping with him as punishment and stick you in another tie.”

MJ: "He'd still have t'walk 'round in a tee shirt. Worth the punishment."

Pete/Abel: “Say the word and we’ll raid his closet.”

Pete turned his attention toward the hot fries. “What if ya’ll just ask him to wear it? Pretty please with extra sugar on top?”

Abel waved the notion away. “That’s not nearly as chaotic and potentially hilarious.”

MJ: "Nah. Fuck that," MJ laughed, overlapping Abel's retort. "Gotta make your own fun, man!"

Abel: “Exactly! And trust me, this is going to be a lot of fun. Oh, we can’t forget his robes,” Abel added to MJ. “He’s got a bunch and if he doesn’t have his clothes he’ll try to just wear those. Should we also steal his underwear and make him wear American flag boxers?”

MJ: "Oh fuck, you're right. I'll get the boxers. Walmart's on the city limits."

Peter was given a grin. "Want a way-too expensive robe?"

Pete/Abel: Pete snorted and just decided to roll with it. He'd blame the tequila, which he was just drinking in shots now. "Why the hell not. Take his socks, too. Walmart's got novelty socks."

Abel's face lit up. "Yes!"

MJ: "Ain't there a shop here that got em? Ones that say, 'fuck this shit'?"

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yep, that gift shop on the way out of town.”

MJ: "Let's go tomorrow. Oh! Ya know, Guildias'll be next."

Pete: “You’re gonna steal poor armless Guildias’ clothes?” Pete chuckled.

MJ: "Maybe talk Callum into it - when he's, ya know, whole."

Pete: “We might be able to get him to get Guildias to wear a T-shirt. Stealing his clothes not so much.”

MJ: "Maybe m'just in a stealin' mood."

Abel: Abel shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. “You can help Devlin steal cookies from the kitchen when Christine isn’t looking. Or break into a fancy museum with Xavier.”

MJ: "Both. I'll do both. Maybe the underwear at Walmart, too."

Pete: Pete squinted. "I feel like I should be discouraging this, but Walmart's a giant corporation, so..." He shrugged and downed more tequila.

MJ: "Now you're gettin' it," MJ chuckled into his bag of blood.

Pete: "I'll scold you tomorrow if I remember. Gotta keep up them good and righteous publican appearances."

MJ: "Good n'righteous I guess is your MO now. Maybe it always was, but ya ain't punchin' people anymore."

Pete: "Got lectured by the law. Then the law's boss. I still punch people though. Aren't enough lectures in all the world to keep assholes from being assholes."

MJ: "Was wonderin' when ya were gonna get canned."

Pete: “Last time I got close was when I got the lecture. Around here it’s considered a miracle that I don’t have a lengthy rap sheet and a couple lawsuits under my belt.”

MJ: "S'part of your charm! I fell for it," he winked.

Pete: Pete laughed. "Next time there's an asshole in the pub, I'll call you before I punch their lights out."

MJ: "Hell yeah. So sexy." A glance was given to Abel, his smile fading a bit at the link between Abel and a certain witch in California. His mind wasn't made up one way or another, but little reminders tickled an annoying sense of guilt behind his neck.

"Y'all ready t'go home?"

Pete/Abel: Abel was just gonna keep eating his chips and let them flirt. Any opinions he had in any particular direction about any particular situation would be kept to himself.

Pete nodded after taking another drink. "Yeah, we probably should. Still gotta shower, and work tomorrow. Or...later today. Is it today?"

Abel nodded. "Yep, it's today."

MJ: "Let's get ya home, then. Ya damn near drank a whole bottle. I mean ya earned it, but s'way past your bedtime, old man."

Pete: Pete’s dramatically offended gasp lost some of its effectiveness when he just barely avoided falling into the river as he staggered to his feet.

“I am a great and mighty bear! Bedtimes are the stuff of mere mortals!”

MJ: "Mighty bear gonna go down river if he keeps stumblin'." MJ got to his feet and began gathering Peter's things. Offered his hand to keep the bear upright.

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed again, taking MJ’s hand. “Thanks very much. Been a loooong time since I had that much tequila. Come on, Abel!”

“Yep, I’m here, I’m up.” He took the hand that Pete offered and smiled at all of them. “Look at us, a drunken daisy chain and a sober vampire. Onward to Petey’s! Petey, be a champ and try not to hurl, okay?”

“Copy that.”

MJ: MJ watched. Didn't think to look back if they'd gathered every bit of trash. Callum could yell at them later. Probably would, given Guildias' condition. Right now, Peter was the only priority.

"Want us t'stay?"

Pete/Abel: “Yeah, stay! I have blackout shades and stuff to make French toast for breakfast.”

“Sold!” Abel said cheerfully. “Okay, everyone gird your loins.”

MJ: "Hey, lil king. Remember me? Tell me what I missed, hmm?" One more scritch, positioning himself for eye contact, open to any and all the little creature had to say. Actually seeing Peter could wait. Best to go forward with something.

Pete: 'I remember you. I've heard your name but haven't seen your face. Your scent is on the bed.'

MJ: "On the bed, huh? He don't clean his sheets?"

Pete: 'On the bed. Only his scent is in the bed.'

MJ: "Show me?"

Pete: Midas treated himself to a full, luxurious stretch before leaping down from his perch and leading the vampire up the stairs.

MJ would be able to see small changes to the house. Fresh paint, new plants, some new photos. Stickers on one of the bedroom doors signaled the presence of a child at some point.

The door to Pete's bedroom had been pulled even with the frame but not shut completely, allowing Midas to nudge it open.

What he'd meant would be plainly obvious:

Blue glass roses sat on Pete's beside table, and in the middle of the pillows on the bed, a stuffed pink elephant.

MJ: MJ paused in the doorway, still absorbing the short journey to the bedroom, only to be met with nostalgia, and a twinge of painful memory. Not so discomforting. Not as it used to be. Not with this new blended soul. There was now a fondness to that pink elephant. What a day that had been.

"I see what you mean now." He tapped at the foot of the bed, invitation to his host before doing a flop onto the mattress.

Pete: Midas jumped up, making himself comfortable not on the bed, but on MJ's abdomen.

'Your scent on the bed. His scent in the bed.'

MJ: "And now your scent on me. How 'bout that?"

Pete: Midas watched the vampire intently. 'Did you come for sadness?'

MJ: "Did I come for what?"

Pete: 'Did you come to make him sad?'

MJ: "Is that all I do?"

Pete: 'He's been too sad for too long. It was all he knew for a time.'

MJ: "You're a very mature kitten."

Pete: 'Cats are wise.'

MJ: "So ya know you're a cat."

Pete: 'That's what he says.'

MJ: "He says that ya know you're a cat?"

Pete: ‘He says cats are wise.’

MJ: "I'd say you're more sentient than most. What's your secret?"

Pete: 'He talks to me.'

MJ: "That's all it takes, huh?" How about some scritches under the chin?

Pete: Midas closed his eyes and purred.

MJ: "When was the last time ya had a big juicy piece of fish? Hmm? Ya deserve some."

Pete: "I don't know. A very long time."

Really it had only been a couple of weeks, but time meant nothing to a cat.

MJ: "Let's go get ya some, then."

MJ sat up and tapped at his shoulder. "Ya get t'go for a ride."

Pete: Midas climbed onto the vampire's shoulder and perched himself like a parrot with ease. He'd done this before.

'Where are we going?'

MJ: "T'the kitchen. We're gonna sneak ya some food."

Pete: 'He'll be able to scent you. He'll know you're here.'

MJ: "Oh yeah? His nose that good now?"

Pete: 'Bears have a strong sense of smell.'

MJ: "He a good bear?"

Pete: 'He guards the river and plants roses on the bank.'

MJ: "I've seen those," he said, a kind of faraway whimsy in his tone.

The fridge was opened for inspection. He made no effort to be quiet.

Pete: 'They have magic. He plants them for you.'

The fridge showed signs of being recently stocked. The containers were full and some had yet to be opened. The produce was fresh, as were the leftovers.

'My food is in the place with the red top.'

MJ: "I get conflicting answers. Can you see color?"

Pete: 'Yes, though not as much as a human.'

MJ: "Are you a familiar?"

Pete: 'I don't have magic.'

MJ: He had his suspicions. He'd never heard an animal speak so eloquently. Most rats had the translatable vocabulary of a child. He wondered if that was because they had been wild. Miss Swiss had been special. Oh well.

"Here, some salmon."

Pete: Midas chirped in approval. However eloquent, he was still a cat.

Meanwhile, outside, Pete had abruptly stopped in the middle of his prayers and was facing his house, frozen in place.

Hearing any sort of movement coming from inside would've been alarming on its own, but he could detect a hint of something--someone--in the breeze that was making his heart thunder in his chest.

Slowly, he stood.

MJ: The salmon was cut into strips on the cutting board. Some things didn't change. He still knew his way around the kitchen like the back of his hand. A single slice was then cut into cubes. A tiny portion given to his shoulder guest. He was aware of Peter's scent, aware this would come to a head, but calm just the same.

Pete: Pete didn't entirely know what he was going to find as he stepped inside. Would MJ just be sitting there? Would he be poking around? Would he be angry? Would the other man be there?

....No. None of those.

MJ was standing in his kitchen chopping--was that salmon?--for his cat.

"....MJ?"

MJ: A hundred comebacks. Jokes, greetings, offhanded remarks. A smile, a stutter, a loss of all senses. Anything, something. What MJ managed was staring. Staring, and allowing Midas to lick his fingers. He must have been the odd sight.

"I stole your fish," was what he landed on.

Pete: It was a night for the unexpected and Pete's mind was completely blank.

"Yes you did. Midas talk you into it?"

MJ: "Think I talked him into it."

Pete: "I doubt he needed much talking. He loves salmon."

Pete dared to step closer. The last time he'd seen MJ was in a dream. He'd woken with his arms aching from how much he longed to hold his vampire. Now here he was, feeding salmon to his cat.

"Is this another dream?"

MJ: "Are you awake?" Another cube of salmon for Midas. A parting gift before placing him on the floor.

Pete: "Pretty sure."

Midas rubbed against Pete's leg on his way back to his tree. It was time for a nap.

MJ: "Then you're not dreamin'." MJ looked to the salmon and back. "What was this supposed t'be?"

Pete: "Oh, uh...I'm not really sure. I didn't have a specific plan for it." Just like he didn't have a specific plan for this situation.

MJ: "No idea? Guess it's...sashimi now."

Pete: "Guess so," he said with a small smile. "How've you been?"

MJ: "I've been shitty, then kinda okay, then just been, then shitty, then better. You?"

Pete: "Sounds like a hell of a rollercoaster. I've just...been. Couple of bumps, but I think I'm no worse for wear."

MJ: "Kay, then." What to do now?

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. "I found a suit of armor."

MJ: For some reason, tension returned to his shoulders.

"Yeah? From where?"

Pete: "Theater department at the community college. And I found a white horse."

MJ: "Say what now?"

Pete: "Friend of a coworker of Ryan's. My brother-in-law."

MJ: "Ya got someone?"

Pete: "Yeah, the guy--Jacob--owns a dude ranch and he said he would let me borrow it in exchange for free beer."

MJ: "I... got no clue what we're talkin' 'bout now."

Pete: "I promised that I would do everything I could to win you back, starting with putting on a suit of armor and riding up on a white horse."

MJ: "And ya just said you're with someone n'somethin' about a theater. Look... I dunno what I expected comin' here, but we... we gotta talk plainly."

Pete: Pete's brow furrowed. "I--what? I'm not with anyone. Jacob is Ryan's coworker's friend who's letting me borrow his horse."

MJ: "Peter, ya got this... idea in your head or somethin' and I got no clue how ya have it anymore."

Pete: "You--you don't remember the dream?"

MJ: "Somewhat, but a lot of shit happened after."

Pete: "Stuff that's changed how you felt...?" Pete's voice had gotten progressively quieter and more deflated with each passing moment.

MJ: "I don't get what you're hangin' on to. What made any of this -"

Better restart. He hauled himself onto the counter. Arms on his knees.

"She's gone. MJ's gone."

Pete: "I'm hanging on to you. I'm hanging on to the love I have for you." The small bubble of hope that had lived in his chest since the night he'd had that dream threatened to burst. It had felt so real. MJ had felt so real. But maybe it had only felt real--been real--for him. Maybe--

Pete stilled. Stared. ".....What? What do you mean MJ's gone? You're MJ. I'm looking at you. Aren't I?"

MJ: "Sort of but no. That answer only works in this reality, I think? The one where two things become one thing. Then it's just a sort of but no."

Pete: It was only by the grace of knowing Guildias that any of that made sense.

"So you--you melded. She's gone because she's not her anymore, she's part of you now."

MJ: "You're good at this. Seasoned pro. S'like ya got some druid friend or somethin'." A small smile.

Pete: Pete returned the smile, but there was no denying the knot that had formed in his stomach. He would've given anything to be able to tear that horrible woman away from the man he loved, or better, to have gone back in time and stopped the soul eating from happening in the first place.

"How much of you is you?"

MJ: "That's what everyone asks me. That means so much, don't it? Is there a percentage you're lookin' for of the old guy?"

Pete: "We all change all the time. I'm not the same old guy, and even without having melded you wouldn't be either." He shrugged. "I just wanna know if there's any part of the you I know still in there somewhere."

MJ: "I wouldn't be here if there wasn't somethin'. I wanna know ya, who ya are like new. S'half of why I came from Cali."

Pete: "You really wanna get to know me again?"

MJ: "D'ya wanna know me?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah, I do."

MJ: "I wanna ask why."

Pete: "Earlier you asked what I was hanging on to, and I said I was hanging on to you. I am, MJ. I love you. I miss you. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I promised you in a dream that I would do whatever it took to make up for all the hurt I've caused you, to win you back, and even if you don't remember that dream like I do, I intend to keep that promise. I want to get to know you again. I want you to get to know me again."

MJ: "Look, I feel like..." No. He shook his head and tried again. "We gotta start from a place that ain't love. I dunno how else t'explain I'm not MJ...like...that, anymore. I don't feel the same 'bout shit. Like... I left. I left like shit. I wanted t'be by myself. I wanted t'deal with what happened in my own way. I came back after ya did shit with someone else. That's..." He shrugged. "It is what it is."

Pete: Pete fell into thoughtful silence. MJ was right, of course. He'd melded with Victoria; he wasn't the same person anymore. Not all of the same person anymore. He had her perspective now too. Her personality, her thought process, her gut feelings. As much as he looked the same and sounded the same, this was a different person standing in front of him, and he was kind of a different person to MJ too.

They had to start from a place that wasn't love.

After a few moments, Pete stuck his hand out. Not to hold, but to shake. "Hi. I'm Peter and I'm a werebear. Most people call me Pete. I speak French, do gladiator training, and I really love cats."

MJ: MJ waited and watched, quietly. He waited for Peter to say no; that he couldn't believe anything had changed. Some romantic gesture... but there was his hand. And he took it. And he smiled.

"I think I like Peter more, but that opens the door t'ya callin' me Mayhew. I'm a vampire. I do things like take your watch while talkin' t'ya."

Peter's watch was spun around his finger. "I really love rats."

Pete: He shook MJ's hand, looking momentarily stunned to see his watch on MJ's finger before laughing. So much better than a snake on the bar.

"It's nice to meet you, Mayhew. You can call me Peter. But I'd prefer calling you MJ. That fluffy spoiled boy over there is my son. He likes salmon and looking out the window. You've won his undying affection."

MJ: Better than he expected. He should have given Peter more credit. He smiled, offering back the watch.

"Think fluffers would eat my rats?"

Pete: Back it went on his wrist. "Nah. He got used to seeing rats and mice when we lived in France, he doesn't mind them. Now crickets? He will hunt a cricket to the ends of the earth."

MJ: "People eatin' rats still?"

Pete: "Just snails," he chuckled. "Rats and mice are just a part of farm life, fighting like hell to get into grain stores."

MJ: "Just doin' their thing. Them n'roaches'll be here 'til the end of time."

Pete: "Probably, yeah. Safe from the apocalypse and safe from Midas. Do you have a little pet rat right now?"

MJ: "I got one in Cali. Gonna get another for the road."

Pete: "There's a new pet shop in town. They have all sorts of little animals. Ferrets, lizards, mice, rats."

MJ: "They open late?"

Pete: "Later than most places around here."

MJ: "Ya wantin' somethin' else?"

Pete: "Yeah, but not for me. Been wanting to get a pet for Luke."

MJ: "Get him a... mouse."

Pete: “They have such short little lives. He’s in a bad way, I’d hate for him to lose someone else he loves.”

MJ: "Then get him a bird. A parrot."

Pete: “Huh. That’s not a bad idea. They live like sixty years, don’t they?”

MJ: "Gotta put em in your will. My aunt had one. Outlived her."

Pete: "Our nephew can inherit his. Or our niece."

MJ: "Now you're thinkin'."

Pete: "Parrot it is. He can teach it lawyer speak."

MJ: "N'I'll teach it t'cuss."

Pete: "Perfect. This is gonna be such a well-spoken parrot."

MJ: "'Twenty t'life, fucker!'" he laughed.

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "I'm excited for this bird and I don't even know what kind I'm getting him."

MJ: "He still in the city?"

Pete: "For now, yeah. There's a good chance he'll be moving back here."

MJ: "What the hell for?"

Pete: “He’s had a rough couple years. Living alone has taken a toll.”

MJ: "Think it'd be the other way around."

Pete: “He was fine living in Raleigh until his boyfriend died. That changed things.”

MJ: "They livin' together?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, boyfriend was living here. But I think the fact that they never found his body or any real answers is messing with his head. He never got any closure." He had yet to determine if the haunting counted as closure.

MJ: He thought of Kenna, and what she would want in that circumstance.

"He gonna be livin' here?"

Pete: “Either here or with our parents. Maybe with his best friend. She was the boyfriend’s sister and she’s been having a rough time too.”

MJ: "That's the thing 'bout death. Only fucks with the ones still livin'."

Pete: “Yeah,” he sighed. “I hope being back here helps. At the very least he won’t have to come home to an empty condo.”

MJ: "I guess. If that helps."

Pete: "It won't magically solve everything but it's a good start." Kind of like this situation with them, he supposed.

MJ: Well, enough about a brother he barley knew or even saw.

"What d'ya wanna do now?"

Pete: "Wanna take Midas for a walk with me?"

MJ: "He's a cat."

Pete: "Yep. A leash trained cat who likes to go on walks."

MJ: "You're a weird one, Peter."

Pete: He smiled. "It's been said before. So what do you say?"

MJ: "I know I'm an animal lover n'all, but that's... yeah. No," he laughed.

Pete: Pete chuckled and looked over at Midas, who was busy grooming himself. "If you hadn't given him salmon he'd probably be very offended. Wanna go for a walk with just me?"

MJ: "Ya not bothered by a night walk?"

Pete: "I'm a Fera. The night and I are good friends."

MJ: "Get your keys, then."

Pete: "All right. Here, floof." He arranged the salmon in Midas' dish and grabbed him from his tree. "Dinner. Don't do anything weird while we're gone and don't think you're getting the good life tomorrow."

Now for keys and his jacket.

MJ: "Good life is only once a week," he nodded, totally serious but absolutely not. This all felt... surreal, and he wondered if Peter felt the same.

Pete: It was enough to make Pete chuckle. He was in the exact same boat as MJ; this all felt like another dream. He was getting ready to go on a walk with a newly melded vampire he'd once dated and had just agreed to get to know again. What could be more surreal?

"Okay," he said once they were outside. "Left or right?"

MJ: "Ummm..." MJ twisted his finger, as though the decision was too difficult, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Which way has the dive bar? That ugly buildin' with the black door?"

Pete: "O'Charlie's? This way." He led them to the left. "You're in for a real treat. Dwight talked Charlie into steam cleaning the carpet last month."

MJ: A gasp. "But smelly floor is half of what makes a dive bar a dive bar!"

Pete: "Give it a week or two, it'll be right back where it was. The tables are still vaguely sticky I'm told."

MJ: "That's comfortin'." At least to MJ, now and before.

Pete: "Charlie is his same old self. Lately the conspiracy mood has been MK Ultra."

MJ: "S'been what now?"

Pete: "MK Ultra. Basically, back in the 50s and 60s the CIA was pumping people full of LSD to study mind control. And unlike most things, this one isn't in Charlie's head. It was declassified."

MJ: "Is anything surprisin' anymore? Anything after the Spanish Inquisition?"

Pete: "Not really, but sometimes something comes along that throws you for a loop."

MJ: "I think I'm done with surprises."

Pete: "You're preaching to the choir. I'll be good if I don't have to deal with another surprise again in my life."

MJ: "Well, I mean, bein' a bear... bad surprise?"

Pete: "Jury's still out on whether the end result is bad, but the process sure was."

MJ: "Does it hurt? Changin'?"

Pete: "Less so now. The first time was horrible. I was sick for days and days leading up to the full moon."

MJ: "D'ya feel everything? D'ya remember how it feels?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. It's--feeling your bones and body parts move around and reform is the weirdest damn feeling. Painful too but the pain doesn't last."

MJ: "My teeth itch. That is a thing, n'it happens all the time."

Pete: "Oh, man." He tried to imagine the sensation and made a face. "Does it drive you crazy?"

MJ: "When I'm already hungry, yeah. Goes from a mild annoyance t'pissed off."

Pete: "Only your fangs or all your teeth?"

MJ: "Just fangs."

Pete: "I wonder if that's worse than having the itch be spread out to all your teeth." He took a second to check for cars and led them across the street.

"I had an itch too before my first full moon. Covered in hives, sweaty from the fever. Everyone thought I was dying."

MJ: "Ya didn't know shit 'fore it happened? Nothin' at all? Which parent is it?"

Pete: "Nope," he said with a shake of his head. "Stella and Luke aren't like me and neither is my mom, so it was probably the other guy."

MJ: "Feel for him. He probably don't know ya exist."

Pete: "He doesn't. My mom never told him and never plans to."

MJ: "Don't matter what she wants. What d'ya want?"

Pete: "I already have a dad. I have no inner turmoil or questions. I'm at peace."

MJ: "Really? That's what you're gonna go with?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "It's the truth. I was curious for a while, thought about grilling my mom until she told me and going to confront the guy but at the end of the day, what would that accomplish? I already have my dad. I'm already a bear. Nothing would change and nothing would be added to my life."

MJ: "Ya'd have the man that made ya what ya are n'get answers ya might have 'bout your new life. Ya can't pretend nothin's changed. 'Sides, he's got a right t'know."

Pete: "A lot has, but not as much as you'd think. I'm a bear who didn't know he was a bear who was then taught to be a bear by Druids. If he has a right to know, shouldn't my mom be the one to tell him? For all I know he's got a whole life with no room for anyone else."

MJ: MJ shook his head. "You're his blood. What she shoulda done she didn't, so she don't get a fuckin' say. Ya don't get in the way of someone's bloodline like that."

Pete: “She did lots of things she shouldn’t have, and didn’t say anything when she should’ve. That’s how I ended up having a doctor tell me I’m not my dad’s biological son.”

MJ: "They even allowed t'do that?"

Pete: “He thought I knew. I tried to donate blood and mine didn’t match. He thought I was adopted.”

MJ: "Huh." That still didn't feel right, but whatever. Doctors were the last thing he expected to be ethical.

"You're not done. Havin' him would add somethin'. More than what some druid can teach. They aren't what he is."

Pete: “I just...” Pete sighed. “Is it horrible to say that I just don’t...care to have him in my life? Like you’d think I would feel a hole there or something missing but it doesn’t feel like there is. It would be nice to meet someone else that’s like me and that can help me make sense of it all but I would almost rather it be literally anyone else. He doesn’t represent something good for me and that’s not all his fault, I know that. But...I don’t know.”

MJ: "You're sayin' this, but it'll eat at ya. Like a needle prick right now, but it'll get bigger. Shit like that always does."

Pete: "Yeah, maybe. And maybe if it does, I'll feel differently. But for now, my life feels full and complete and peaceful. I'm gonna have a new baby niece soon. My business is doing great. We're getting to know each other again."

MJ: "Your life is always rosy, ain't it?" Or at least, that's what Peter wanted it to be, so that was what he projected. He couldn't tell. He never could. The man had seemed so different since his trip to Montana. Having to chase him down in order to speak with him, to spare him Victoria Harrak. For Callum to dismiss him. This all seemed so tainted and strange, and yet hopelessly normal.

Pete: "Not always," he said softly. "There's a lot that wasn't rosy for a long time and still isn't. There's a lot between us that's far from rosy."

MJ: "I dunno ya. We're brand new." He had to remember that, or let the past repeat itself.

Pete: “You’re right,” Pete said with a nod. “We are. Is there anything from the old us that you want to hash out? That the old you always wanted to hash out?”

MJ: Deep, wasted breath. Years now, and that was a can of worms. Not nearly as gnawing post merge, but still, those thoughts existed.

"How 'bout ya go first."

Pete: "Well." A sigh. "At this point I think it's no secret that the way you left wasn't the best way or even a good way and that it had a pretty severe effect on me. And on the flip side, the way I handled it wasn't the best, or even good either."

MJ: "How did ya handle it?"

Pete: "I betrayed your trust. I hurt you. I up and left without telling anyone where I was going. When you called me I hung up on you. I didn't step in when Callum banished you."

MJ: "We were done when I left. Everything else was just me bein' selfish, so there's that. Ya did up n'leave like a dick nozzle. What happened in the woods... happened, n'it wasn't your fault. I shoulda left ya alone."

Pete: "But you weren't just being selfish. You left but there was a relationship between us, at least for me. There was trust and love and rather than make a clean break, I cheated on you and betrayed all that. It wasn't just you being selfish, you had and have every right in the world to be upset and angry at me. I would completely understand if after what I did you never wanted to see me again. And in a lot of ways, that's why a big part of me believed that I deserved what happened in the woods that night."

MJ: "Well, ya didn't, so shut up about that. Don't be a broken record. N'ya know, ya shoulda given him a try. Like, for real. If ya wanna fuck someone else, ya should be with em, otherwise ya...ya wouldn't have t'start with."

He wondered if that logic applied to him in some measure. Brett Parker, Rohan Dalca... Rohan certainly deserved better, and that was part of the reason he left. A clean slate between both men had been the purpose of the trip. To reacquaint with fresh eyes.

Pete: Another sigh. "I had feelings for him for a big part of my life. The dynamic between us wasn't great even when we were younger and a lot of different things contributed to that, it wasn't all on me or all on him. For the part that was on me, well...I have a long, long history of not dealing with things the way I should. Maybe it was never in the cards or maybe it had been at some point and never came to be.

"But then I met you. And from the moment I met you, you got under my skin and you never really left it. You were under my skin when you were making snakes appear on my bar and when you won me a stuffed elephant at a carnival and when I was in Montana and when you left and when I left."

MJ: "Is that love, though, or is that just... obsession? I dunno either, so it's more just..." His fingers flew up. Something in the ether. Just rhetorical questions that maybe they could answer.

Pete: Pete shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that I care about you. That I want you to be happy. This new person you are? I want to get to know this person. I want to learn this person, independently of anything else."

MJ: "You're still walkin' with me, thinkin' about love. This ain't gonna work if you're just thinkin' that."

Pete: "I'm not though, that's the thing. I like talking to you. This you, not just the old you. I'm already seeing the distinction between the person I knew and the person you are now."

MJ: "Yeah? What's that?"

Pete: "I'm not really sure, it's like...I don't know if the old you would've been okay with saying as much as you're saying? Or not even that, just being okay with saying what you feel and what's on your mind. Which I want you to be able to do."

MJ: "Hmm." MJ shrugged. What was now a collective mind could not notice what had always existed for itself. Surprised to hear about any changes.

"The other me was pissed n'selfish n'panicked. It is what it is."

Pete: "Do you miss yourself at all? However new this is for everyone you know, I imagine it's even moreso for you."

MJ: A thought considered for less than thirty seconds. "No. I don't miss anything. That bother ya?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, just curious. Trying to imagine what it would be like to not completely be me anymore."

MJ: "You can't miss it. I don't think, because there's... nothin' to miss?" A sigh escaped him, needless, but worthy of expression. "I'll never be able t'explain this."

Pete: "Makes sense in a way, at least to my limited understanding. You can't miss you if you're still you."

MJ: "...Yeah. Somethin' like that. I have his memories. I got...some of her. I woke up feelin' reborn but like I always was...but...how two always were."

Pete: "And the people you've been living with? They've been helpful and supportive?"

MJ: "Well... some kickin' n'screamin' along the way."

Pete: "From them or you?"

MJ: "A bit of both. Had t'be chased down n'my RV invaded t'get t'this point."

Pete: Pete blinked. "Seriously? Jesus. That sounds...intense."

MJ: "Ya know what I do. I run."

Pete: "Sounds like they didn't let you."

MJ: "Nope. Damn stubborn like that."

Pete: "Speaking of stubborn." He nodded up ahead, where the bar had come into view. "We've arrived at Charlie's kingdom."

MJ: MJ threw his arms wide. "The only king I'll kneel to!"

Pete: Pete chuckled and held the door open for MJ. "Don't tell him that, he'll get a swelled head." If such a thing was even possible when one's kingdom was a sketchy bar with a sticky floor.

MJ: "I wanna see that now. Especially with havin' ya in his bar."

Pete/Charlie: "He's gotten used to having me here the past few weeks. Ain't that right, Charlie?" he added in a shout to the man himself.

Charlie saluted him with his cigarette, fully intending to go back to his newspaper when he spotted MJ.

"Well, shit," he laughed. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

MJ: "That there cancer stick is illegal in these parts, stranger! The fuck ya doin'?" A greeting for all intents and purposes. His hand came swinging over the counter for a grasping hand.

Charlie: The hand was shaken with vigor. "Bah, it ain't a real cancer stick! It's got menthol in. Refined, that's what that is. How the hell are ya, kid? What we do to be graced with your presence?"

MJ: "I've been t'Mordor n'back t'the Shire. Just needed t'go on an adventure. Ya know, that thing ya should do."

Peter was given a wink.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just smiled and ordered a beer from Dwight while Charlie belly laughed.

"Who says I don't go adventurin'? I was over there at that booth 'bout ten minutes ago and now I'm here. There's your adventure."

MJ: "Was there a battle in between? Someone lose an eye?"

Charlie: "Hell yes there was. Almost tripped over Jose's long fuckin' legs."

MJ: "Shit. I've missed so much." MJ made himself at home near Peter, splayed over a seat in cat-like fashion.

Charlie: "Damn right you have. Goin' to Walmart ain't the same without ya."

MJ: "Florida mom still thirsty for ya?"

Charlie: Charlie snorted. "Boy howdy, you don't know the half of it. Past few months she's been tryin' to march me down the aisle."

MJ: "I wanna hear all about it. What are we drinkin', Peter?"

Pete/Charlie: "We're drinking Blue Moon and wondering why Charlie won't marry Ann."

"I'll tell ya why, Petey boy," Charlie said with a squint, gesturing with his cigarette. "She still believes in the lone gunman."

MJ: "Please, educate Peter," MJ laughed. He leaned towards the werebear with a grin. "Not a Coors? With an umbrella?"

Pete/Charlie: Fondness and humor lit Pete's expression as he made a dramatic face. It warmed him to know that MJ remembered. It gave him hope.

"Never ever. I'd rather take a nap on Charlie's carpet."

"Hey now! Don't go knockin' my carpet, Dwight cleaned it."

"Tell that to Jose, there's a sea of muddy footprints around his chair."

Charles looked over and scowled. "Dammit, Jose!"

MJ: The exchanged look between two grumpy old men was priceless. The vampire couldn't help but snort. Playing human wasn't all bad; expressive if anything.

"Ya need t'fuck off with the carpet, Charl. It's older than me."

Charlie: "Whole world is older than you, kiddo, you're still just a baby. Carpet's fine for this crowd. Hasn't been a crime scene on it or nothing since at least the 80s."

MJ: "Ya hear that? At least the 80s. S'all love at O'Charlie’s."

Pete/Charlie: Pete threw his head back and laughed. "Bullshit, remember that couple who used to live over by Tristan Seger's house? Wife came in and tried to shoot her husband's dick off, remember?"

"Ohhhh, yeah, my bad." Charlie nodded. "Hasn't been a crime scene since at least 2005."

MJ: "Ah. See, that was a lifetime ago. At least get a fresh one. There are some questionable stains. Can't blame em all on Jose."

Pete/Charlie: "MJ's right. I'm almost positive some of those stains are because of you and Ann."

Charlie laughed.

MJ: Another stretch. Eyes focused on the ceiling as he leaned back. A small crack, there. Another strange stain.

"Ya always drink orange beer?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nah, not always. Sometimes I drink Guinness."

MJ: "Just drink t'relax?"

Pete: "Every now and then. If I'm feeling real fancy I'll have a glass of wine."

MJ: "But not anything else?"

Pete: “Relaxing wise or drinking wise?”

MJ: "Wino type shit."

Pete: Pete laughed. “What all falls under ‘wino type shit’?”

MJ: "Drink their sorrows away."

Pete: “Yeah, no. I’m not about the wino life.”

MJ: "Didn't think ya were. Had t'make sure."

Pete: He just smiled. “What about you? What do you do to relax?”

MJ: "Games. Practice vampy things. Learn from a dog." Convoluted as shit, with a shit-eating grin to boot.

Pete: "You--a dog?" Pete laughed. With that grin he couldn't tell if MJ was kidding or not. "Does the dog teach you how to dog?"

MJ: "The dog teaches me magic. I teach him how to shoot 360 no scope."

Pete: "So he's a magic dog...?"

MJ: "Heard of familiars?"

Pete: "I have," Pete said with a nod. "Is he yours?"

MJ: "Ha! Nah. Not mine, but I mean, sort of? He's a friend."

Pete: "Gotcha. Can vampires have familiars? Are there rules for familiars?"

MJ: "They pick ya, not the other way around."

Pete: Another nod. That made sense. "So I guess species doesn't matter then."

MJ: A shrug. "Have t'ask him. He's around somewhere."

Pete: "Oh, he came with you?"

MJ: "Mhm. You'll probably see him 'fore long."

Pete: "He exploring?"

MJ: "Yeah. Or scarin' lil kids in his devil costume." His brow wrinkled. "Or makin' em laugh? I dunno."

Pete: "Man, this just gets wilder and wilder."

MJ: "What's your life been like? More France?"

Pete: “Pretty quiet on my end. No trips to France recently. My sister’s pregnant and I’ve been helping her out with my nephew a lot so she can rest.”

MJ: "What's the husband doin'?"

Pete: "They put him on the night shift."

MJ: "The fuck is he doin'?"

Pete: "He took a second job as a security guard at the mall."

MJ: "Times that hard?"

Pete: “Babies are expensive.”

MJ: "Ain't just one good job out there?"

Pete: "I think his main job is pretty decent, but I guess a little extra money never hurt anyone."

MJ: That logic was reason he never saw his father. Not one he could approve of, but this was none of his business. Something in this thoughts questioned a father's role at all. A rare moment in his new life, knowing exactly which thoughts belonged to which former soul.

"So, tell me somethin' that ain't vague."

Pete: “Umm....” Pete sipped his beer and thought for a moment. “June talked me into starting a karaoke night at the pub every week.”

MJ: MJ bit into the inside of his cheek. A failed attempt at hiding his smile. "About you, flathead."

Pete: “I’m excited to meet my niece.”

MJ: "Were ya always a family man? Ya should settle down with a nice whoever n'adopt or make some babies."

Pete: Pete ignored the pang in chest that accompanied a little voice in his head that said he’d always dreamed of doing that with MJ.

Instead he said, “We’ve always been close, yeah. But my dad’s accident brought us that much closer. Scares me how close I came to losing him.”

MJ: "Has it made everyone write a will? Hell, I think my family has that kinda thing, too. More like a keep what cha kill kinda shit, but still stands."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep. Parents already had one but now we all do, too. We'll update them when the baby's born."

MJ: "'I give my seventy-inch TV to my brand new niece upon my death.'"

Pete: "I'll hand over the whole deed to her tiny hands."

MJ: "But who are ya really givin' it to?"

Pete: "If I ever have a kid, to them. If not, to the baby and Graham and Luke's kids if he has any."

MJ: "What, they all fight over it? Who the fuck gets it if ya drop dead right now?"

Pete: "Luke. And they won't have to fight. It'll be both of theirs, equally."

MJ: "Ya sure are generous, Peter."

Pete: He shrugged. "Can't take it with me, right? It's a good house. Only right that it should go to family. They can sell it or live in it or rent it if they want to."

MJ: "Generous is thinkin' ya can give one thing to this many fingers n'think it'll all work out."

Pete: "It's not just any fingers. Those fingers are being raised by two good, sensible, compassionate people. Call me an optimist."

MJ: "Alright, optimist, let's chug some beer I'll regret."

Pete: "Wanna regret some Blue Moon or would you rather regret another brand?"

MJ: "I'll regret the Blue Moon with ya." It would all return to sender before dawn; this was about time with Peter. Whatever this time meant.

Pete/Dwight: Pete nodded and glanced toward the other end of the bar. "Another round, Dwight, when you can?"

"For both of ya'll?"

"Yes, please."

"You got it."

MJ: "Don't 'yes please' the enemy," MJ snorted. "Bein' so nice t'the rival. How dare."

Pete/Charlie: His responding laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Almost.

"Ah, come on. Dwight's a pal, he can have a please. Not Charlie though."

"I heard that."

MJ: That sure was a nice laugh. He remembered that laugh.

"We’re behind enemy lines. Can't make friends with Dwight except Christmas."

Pete/Dwight: "Well then, Dwight, I formally retract my please until Christmas," he said as the bartender brought over their beers.

Dwight just smiled in his subtle way. "Looking forward to it."

"Thanks though."

MJ: MJ stared. Dwight and their surroundings were faraway realities. Blatantly staring at those lips, trying to remember exactly what they tasted like. Wondering how warm Pete's skin felt now as Fera. Did they have a specific name? Did he know it?

Why did Peter love him so much? Or had. Still.

He wondered about Rohan, what he was doing right this moment. If Xavier was occupying his time.

His focus subconsciously fell to the table.

Pete: Pete could practically feel MJ's eyes boring into him, not that MJ seemed to be making much effort to hide it. Or any effort at all.

What was running through that newly melded mind of his? Was he thinking about their history? Their present situation? Something else entirely? Pete didn't dare ask.

"Rethinking regretting the beer?" he said instead, voice softer than he intended.

MJ: "I dunno what I like. I know I'll drink anything, but..." MJ laughed, fangs unashamedly present. "Thinkin' about parsnip wine."

Fingers tapped to his temple. He didn't have to explain why.

Pete: At the sight of those fangs, Pete cast a quick glance around to make sure Dwight and Charlie's attention was elsewhere. Thankfully they were both busy.

"There's such a thing as parsnip wine?" he chuckled.

MJ: Made it before. Two hundred and something years ago. "Mhm. More beer than wine." He could practically taste it. A first in this new life. Fucking interesting. He closed his eyes, allowed the memory to saturate his thoughts.

"A wagon, campfire. Cold knees. Sex. Wine on my tongue." And breasts. Someone beneath him. Where they belonged.

His eyes opened, his smile returning. "Blue Moon is better."

Pete: Pete squinted. One word stood out above all the rest. "A wagon? Like a covered wagon?" Had Victoria Harrak been a pioneer blowing people for whatever the hell parsnip wine was?

"I'm gonna go ahead and say that yes, it absolutely is." He smiled around a sip. "Everyone knows oranges are better than parsnips."

MJ: "I like the company more," he said without thinking.

Pete: The smile grew before he could do anything to stop it.

"Right back at you." He lifted his beer in a toast. "To our health and to Charlie's questionable carpet."

MJ: "To fucked up stains on the floor." He clinked their glasses and laughed.

Pete/Charlie: "I hear ya'll over there casting aspersions!" came Charlie's voice from down the bar.

"We love you, too, Charles."

MJ: "Wonder how good them ears really are."

Pete: "Charlie's got ears like a fruit bat," said Pete. "He hears all. Must be the conspiracy theorist in him."

MJ: "I'm a vampire. You're a werebear. Charles is a skunk."

Pete: He laughed. "Are wereskunks a thing? Because he'd totally be one."

MJ: "He is one. Or a black lab. Maybe a rottweiler. Weredogs a thing?" Still waiting for Charles to chime in again.

Pete: Charlie had moved even further way; if he heard them, he gave no indication of it.

"Probably not? I think werewolves fill that role."

MJ: "Huh. I guess. I swear there's somethin'. I can see it." Oh well. Probably another one of those memories-not-memories.

Pete: “Maybe it’s some other type of creature, not necessarily a Fera. Like a demon dog or something.”

MJ: "D'y like what ya are?" A question asked softly, sotto voce, giving an ounce of real privacy.

Pete: “I didn’t really at first. It’s weird to suddenly be a bear, you know? It’s overwhelming to wake up one day and not know yourself. I’ve come around to it though.”

MJ: "Sounds the same, then. Heard some of em eat their own." MJ casually glanced around the bar, breathed in deeply. No, Charles' wasn't anything but a man in need of a shower.

Pete: Pete blinked. “Seriously? Yikes. I really hope that’s not true.”

MJ: "It is. I mean, not you but it is what it is. D'ya feel more... feral?" He expected the answer to be no, given that Peter, as far as they were aware, was born human.

Pete: "Not feral, per se. Just feel more...bear like. I swear the whole winter I was exhausted. I went to bed every night at like 8:30 like an old man."

MJ: "Ha!" So fucking neat. "Ya wanna eat everything in your fridge, too?"

Pete: "I did. I had the mealtimes of a hobbit."

MJ: "Holy fuck. I wanna see that."

Pete: Pete laughed. "You wanna see me eat twenty million times a day?"

MJ: "Yeah, actually. I wanna see ya bear out."

Pete: "Wanna hang out with me next full moon?"

MJ: "Should be here. If ya want me here."

Pete: He smiled over his beer. “I’d like that. You’re officially invited.”

MJ: "How long is that? Ya just know, or gotta look it up?"

Pete: “In a few days. I have full moons marked on my phone’s calendar.”

MJ: "How soon ‘fore ya feel different?"

Pete: “The closer the full moon gets the more bear like I feel. It’s not too much yet but it will be here pretty soon.”

MJ: "So it's both, I guess?"

Pete: “Kinda, yeah. I don’t know if I pay more attention to my bear feelings because I know the full moon is coming or if I’d feel them even if I didn’t know.”

MJ: "Should see. Never know, ya know?"

MJ stared down the barrel of his glass, let his thoughts swim for a moment in nothingness before his next sip.

Pete: Pete nodded thoughtfully. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to experiment one of these months."

He gestured toward the beer. "Any enjoyment at all in that or are you just thinking about having to throw it up later?"

MJ: "Ya remembered that?"

Pete: Another nod. "Yep. One of them vampire facts that sticks in the mind."

MJ: "Guess so. What else ya remember?"

Pete: He made a face. "The butt teeth."

MJ: "Excuse me what?"

Pete: “Guildias gave me a book that talked about this one clan who likes to experiment with body horror shit and scarred me for life.”

MJ: "Uh," MJ laughed. "Okay, I meant me. Let's leave butt teeth with the snake charmer."

Pete: “Speaking of snakes, make any appear on bars lately?”

MJ: "Look here, that was just a joke."

Pete: Pete chuckled. “A lot funnier after the fact. Thing looked so damn real.”

MJ: "Hey, I don't know ya. We're supposed t'start over."

Pete: “Right, of course.” He smiled. “Tell me about your magic dog travel buddy.”

MJ: "Mm. Well, Abel's a familiar. Not mine, but," shrug. "Gorgeous face; free to admire. He's a little terror. Insatiable. Probably'll show up 'fore dawn."

Pete: "Insatiable for food?" He hoped?

MJ: "Food n'everything else." MJ returned his gaze and squinted. He knew what Peter was getting at.

Pete: Getting at? He was getting at nothing.

“You should bring him by the pub. Bobby’s doing a lot of comfort food lately.”

MJ: "Up to him. Ya wanna meet him?"

Pete: "Sure. Always interesting to meet someone with magic."

MJ: "D'ya really wanna meet em, or ya just sayin' that?"

Pete: "I wouldn't say it if I didn't wanna meet him."

MJ: "I dunno that."

Pete: He smiled. "Fair enough. I really would like to meet him."

MJ: "How much of what ya say is 'cause of the past?"

Pete: "I'm trying not to, promise."

MJ: "What have ya said, though?"

Pete: "The snake on the bar thing."

MJ: Gasp! "It didn't look real?!"

Pete: Pete laughed. "No, it totally did."

MJ: "What else?"

Pete: "That's all, scout's honor. I really do want us to start fresh."

MJ: MJ leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in hand. Another squint.

Pete: The squint would be met with an earnest smile.

MJ: "Don't love me, Peter."

Pete: To Pete's credit, the smile never faltered.

"We're just getting to know each other over beers that one of us will throw up later."

MJ: "Wow. Ya went there."

Pete: He chuckled. "I can't stop thinking about it. I feel bad that you have to."

MJ: "Don't want ya t'drink alone."

Pete: "Thanks, I appreciate it." He thought for a moment. "Would you still have to if whatever you were drinking was mixed with blood?"

MJ: "Depends on how much it is, I think. Probably eventually."

Pete: "My mentor's grandson told me about the neighboring prince drinking wine mixed with virgin blood, but I could never quite tell if he was serious or if he was just fucking with me."

MJ: "Probably meant it. If they're older than me - prince - then m'not surprised."

Pete: "I think he said she was a couple hundred years old at least."

MJ: "Yep." MJ stretched his arms and sank deeper into his seat. All but melting.

"Ya figured out how long ya got?"

Pete: "Over a hundred but possibly under two? That's my best guesstimate."

MJ: Without something to say, Peter was left with a smile, simple albeit genuine.

Pete: That was more than enough as far as Pete was concerned. This place they were in was fresh and new but it was good. This was good.

“Had enough of this A+ ambiance or wanna stay for another round?”

MJ: "We just got here! Regale me with stories of the pub. I pick next round. I think it's time ya had some cinnamon schnapps."

Pete: "Oh man," he laughed. "I haven't had that since I was...fifteen maybe? Snuck a bottle from the pub and my friends and I took it down to the beach and passed it around."

MJ: "Jesus. Yeah. Regale me with freckle-faced you when the world was young and excitin'," laughed MJ.

Pete: "Well, in a shock to no one, we got super plastered. It was nearly one in the morning when we stumbled home and the second my mom opened the door ready to tear me a new one for breaking curfew, I puked all over the porch."

MJ: MJ feigned disapproval, shaking his head. "How could she ever love ya after that?"

Pete: "Right? The shame of it all. I was grounded for three weeks and my dad made me bus tables to pay for the bottle we took."

MJ: "What a good boy ya are." And a wink to follow.

Pete: Another laugh. "Oh yeah, a Goldschlager-stealing teenage paragon of virtue."

MJ: "Nothin' wrong with stealin', if ya don't get caught."

Pete: "Or if you don't throw your guts up on your front porch and also your mom."

MJ: "She's never forgiven ya. She mighta said it, but she didn't. Her feet'll never forgive ya."

Pete: "It's definitely not in her Top Mothering Moments highlight reel. She tells that story literally every time she makes something with cinnamon in it and I happen to be around."

MJ: "Forever punishin'. That's a -" MJ watched the door. The couple walking in, talking passionately about something. Politics, maybe. There was laughter, so he doubted.

"That's a mom. Don't think ours would get along."

Pete: Pete briefly followed MJ's gaze, turning away again upon not recognizing the couple.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

MJ: "'Cause my mama woulda rubbed your back n'left it at that."

Pete: "She wouldn't have grounded me?"

MJ: "She woulda asked if ya learned anything from it."

Pete: "I did, in fact. I learned a very valuable lesson that day."

MJ: "S'all matters t'her."

Pete: "My mom liked to drive home the 'you done fucked up' point. My dad was more like your mom. If you broke something you had to fix or replace but he was a lesson guy above all."

MJ: MJ just smiled, thoughts filled with Kenna and all the lessons she had to discover herself. Lessons he'd had the shock of learning himself. Ones he refused to intervene in her coming of age. Too damn stubborn to listen, anyways. Pick and choose the battles. You only get one hill to die on, his mother said.

"How many times were ya grounded?"

Pete: "During my entire childhood? Oh, man," he chuckled. "Too many to count. Most weren't that big a deal, the Goldschlager incident was one of the big ones. Probably the biggest."

MJ: "Why'd ya do it?"

Pete: "Curiosity, dumb teenage judgment. I remember being very impressed with the gold flakes in the bottle."

MJ: "That's it? Just 'cause ya could?"

Pete: "Pretty much. Boredom probably played a part, too. It was during the summer."

MJ: "Look at chu. Thought ya woulda had t'have some kinda excuse. Maybe somethin' angsty."

Pete: Pete just smiled and finished off his beer. “Nah, I was just fifteen and dumb. Being grounded during the summer by the way? The worst.”

MJ: "You're just old enough iPads didn't rot your brain. We were spared."

Pete: “Right? Being bored was an integral part of growing up.”

MJ: "I was never bored." Said like a challenge.

Pete: “Spoken like a man that never broke a window with a soccer ball.”

MJ: "Your mama punished accidents?"

Pete: “I’m sure she would’ve done something, but my dad standing beside her dying laughing kinda ruined her plans.”

MJ: "Kinda dig ruined plans these days."

Pete: “She barely got the middle names out when my dad just started wheeze-laughing.”

MJ: "I only got the middle name once."

Pete: "Only once? Impressive. What caused it?"

MJ: "Gettin' kicked outta college."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep, that'll do it."

MJ: "More like gettin' caught with my hand in the cookie jar." He shrugged. "But you. You're a bad boy. Gettin' caught all the time."

Pete: "The soccer ball incident was all Luke. That's why he's a goalie, he can't aim for shit."

MJ: "His center of gravity is better than ours. He should be the best."

Pete: "You'd think so," Pete chuckled. "But nope, he can't aim. He played goalie in school and for a while for our weekly game but his true calling is being ref."

MJ: "Knew a guy that every game hit someone's car."

Pete: "Accidentally? Or on purpose?"

MJ: "Baseball wasn't his game."

Pete: "Damn. He ever break any windows?"

MJ: "Fuck. Mike broke many fuckin' windows. Sent one flyin' into Jock's fuckin' shoulder. Hit a teacher's car. Hit his mama's car. It was fuckin' great."

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "Jesus Christ. Mike, my guy, you should've cut and run after like the second window."

MJ: "Mike's a father now. He teaches his kid how t'play."

Pete: "Did the kid inherit his skills?"

MJ: "No idea." He gestured to his body. "Don't keep in touch anymore."

Pete: "I kinda hope the kid broke one of his car windows."

MJ: "Same. Probably will. That whole family is klutz."

Pete: "Bless their hearts. I feel like breaking windows is a rite of passage for kids. Even June and her siblings broke one."

MJ: "June?" Oh! He snapped his fingers. "The lil fake blonde!"

Pete: "Thankfully the fake blonde days are long since past. She's stayed brunette and boxes now."

MJ: "Punched her boyfriend out?"

Pete: "No but I hope she goes back and does it someday. She's bartending now. Waitress days are long gone too."

MJ: "She a strong independent Latina now."

Pete: "She is. She's a cat mom, too. Her cat is my cat's brother."

MJ: "...Ah." The damn cat again. That link to a man he intended to visit. One of these nights. Maybe.

"Ready for that second round?"

Pete: "Yep. Let's relive my youth, minus the puking and grounding."

MJ: "Well. One of us is gonna do it. I'll take the bullet." Dwight was waved down and given their order. A leap from Blue Moon to say the least.

Pete: "You're a real trooper, and I mean that."

Dwight had no reaction to the order beyond a nod but Charlie, who was back at their end of the bar, couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

MJ: MJ just smiled. A tricky subject to broach, but he wanted to.

"So. How's your love life? Any hook ups?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nope, none. Love life is pretty much non-existent."

MJ: "What a perfect waste of a good beard."

Pete: He snorted. "You sound like Sylvain."

MJ: "Which one is that?"

Pete: "My mentor's grandson. The one who told me about the virgin blood wine."

MJ: "See, this why I think ya need t'find your dad."

Pete: "...Because I'm not hooking up?"

MJ: "'Cause your mentor ain't a bear."

Pete: "Gaetan being my mentor pre-dated me finding out I'm a bear. It's just another thing he helped me through, I didn't seek him out specifically because of it."

MJ: "How'd ya find him?"

Pete: "By pure chance," Pete said softly, something quietly awed in his voice. "In a marketplace."

MJ: "He just took ya home with him?"

Pete: "Not quite." He nodded his thanks to Dwight as their drinks were placed in front of them.

Once he was sure no one was listening, he continued. "I'd been in St. Malo a couple of days and went to the marketplace after a local told me about it. I go, look around, have some breakfast, pretty standard. But then as I'm walking around, I start to feel like someone is staring at me. You know that feeling when all the little hairs on your neck stand up? That but more...I don't know, intense? So I stop and look around to see if I can spot who it is when I see this old, old man sitting at a little table beside a produce stand. He looked about ninety-something and he's staring right at me, like he's trying to see through me. We make eye contact and he just smiles and beckons me over."

MJ: "Your mentor is in his 90s?" Was all MJ had taken from the story so far. He imagined some frail old bastard with a beard down to his knees. Eyebrows untamed bushes, ridiculous and forgotten. A man to use his walking stick to smack sense into idiot children.

Pete: Pete smiled. "Patience, grasshopper. So he's beckoning me over and I'm standing there wondering if I should move closer or turn and walk in the other direction. For god knows what reason, I move closer. He points at the chair in front of him, I sit. Then he pulls out this little leather pouch and asks me what my name is in heavily accented but perfect English, which caught me off guard since a lot of the older people I met couldn't speak English that well. Anyway, I tell him and he dumps out the little pouch--which had runes in it--and proceeds to cast them for me to tell me my fortune."

MJ: Patience, then. He was hungry for more. That which he'd been ignorant to during their relationship. Things he no longer had the energy to wish for. In regards to Peter and to Rohan, he felt numb. Victoria's doing, no doubt.

"A hot piece of ass in your future. A great fortune n'a bigger cock."

Pete: He snorted and shook his head. "Not quite. I don't even know if I can call it telling me my fortune. He just told me stuff about me. How I was feeling, where I'd been, what path I was on. Very spiritual. And unsettling. Mostly unsettling if we're being completely honest, but also intriguing? I don't know if that's the right word for it but it made me want to keep sitting there talking to him. He had this energy about him that felt familiar and not familiar at the same time. I felt like..." He squinted, trying to find the right words.

"You know that feeling you get in dreams, where the people you're interacting with are completely real to you in that moment but some part of you knows it's not?"

MJ: "I don't dream much anymore, but I know what ya mean. I think. Things bein' real n'not real is kinda my schtick. So then what happened?"

Pete: "Actually yeah, it's kinda like the snake on the bar. Not to keep bringing it up or anything but as I was looking at him I felt the same way I did that day. That split second of believing the snake was completely real before my brain remembered it was an illusion. Something about this mysterious old man seemed like an illusion as I was sitting there with him, even though I knew he was completely real. The woman running the stall talked to him, a few people that passed said hello to him. He was definitely real and he could definitely tell I was having this internal debate, I'm sure I looked confused as hell. It amused him enough to invite me to his house for lunch. Well, their house I should say, because it turned out the woman running the stall was his daughter. And once again, for god only knows what reason, I accepted the invitation and went to their place for lunch. I say house but really it's a villa."

MJ: A simple sentence in that statement tightened MJ's brows. Restricted his attention to the rest of the story. A story of an illusionary man was intrigue enough, but that damn statement wouldn't leave him be.

"Remembered it was an illusion?"

Pete: "Maybe I didn't phrase that right." He thought for a moment. "You ever see footage of like...supposed hauntings or UFOs or something and there's that initial mental gasp before something kicks in that tells you that what you're seeing isn't real?"

MJ: "Is that a challenge?"

Pete: "Definitely not," Pete chuckled. "Not here at least. Maybe you can test me when you come along on the full moon."

MJ: "Was it 'cause it didn't move?"

Pete: "Partially. It was insanely realistic though."

MJ: "Did things all the time. Ya just didn't -" That's not what this was meant to be. He couldn't break his own rule. "Drink your schnapps."

Pete: Pete took an obedient sip, and almost instantly a smile broke out across his face.

"Tastes like being a dumb teenager."

MJ: "So, like begin' sick?" Being sick, verses what he really wanted to say. Polite-ish company and all.

Pete: "Nah, everything that came before. It was fun before the being sick and getting grounded."

MJ: "Bein' grounded didn't do shit. Ya badass kid."

Pete: That got a laugh. "No one has ever called me that, ever. It didn't stop me from being dumb but it sure ruined my life for three weeks."

MJ: "Shit's slower as a kid. Of course it was for-fuckin-ever." A thought which had him looking down the bottom of his glass. "They say it gets like that after two hundred. Ya know. Them."

Pete: He nodded as he took another sip. "Gaetan says that, too."

MJ: "After how long?"

Pete: "I doubt you'll believe me if I tell you."

MJ: "Guess ya really did have your own adventure."

Pete: “It was an adventure and a half. I really hope I’m not boring you, I know it’s a lot.”

MJ: "Boring me? The fuck ya think you're talkin' to?"

Pete: "Just making sure! Not everyone likes hearing long-winded things."

MJ: "Well, lucky for ya, I happen t'like em."

Pete: "I'm glad," he said with a smile. "You and Gaetan would get along."

MJ: "Why's that?"

Pete: "He likes long-winded stories, messing with people, going on adventures. He's been to space."

MJ: "Long winded makes em sound shitty." A finger raised. "Space?"

Pete: “Space!"

MJ: "Elaborate!" he laughed.

Pete: "Should I pick up where I left off or tell you the space part?"

MJ: "I think we need t'digress right quick."

Pete: "He's always been really fascinated by space and astronomy so as soon as being an astronaut became a thing that people could do, he became one. He worked on the very first American space station in the 70s."

MJ: "He's a fuckin' astronaut? Name in the books n'everything? How'd he get away with that?" He knew how Kindred could. Information a now simple subconscious existence. It hadn't occurred to him to consider outside of his circle.

Pete: Pete just smiled again as he took another sip of schnapps. "The same way I thought he was a ninety year-old man."

MJ: "Ya can't just glamour a fuckin' background check!"

A quick glance around. Ignore the yelling biker.

Pete/Charlie: Everyone mostly did, except for one Charles Brandt.

He squinted at MJ. "The hell ya'll talking about over there?"

MJ: "Lion tamin'!"

Charlie: "Pffft, sure, and Marilyn OD'ed."

MJ: "What? Ain't seen Tiger King?"

Charlie: "Who's the tiger king?"

MJ: "Bless ya."

Charlie: "Don't patronize me, ankle biter."

MJ: "I mean it! Saved precious hours of your life!"

Charlie: "Oh. Well that's all right then."

MJ: MJ returned his rescuing smile back to Peter.

Pete: "Nice save," Pete said under his breath.

MJ: "Baby, m'all about saves."

Pete: "You really friggin' are. And to answer your question, he's not currently an astronaut but he's thinking about giving it another go soon. He fabricates identities fairly regularly."

MJ: "So, guess the older ya get the more perfect ya are."

Pete: "He's had a loooong time to get the process down pat."

MJ: "I don't trust anything that sounds perfect."

Pete: "I don't know if I'd describe him as perfect. He's perfected a lot of things just because he's so goddamn old but the man himself? Human as human can be."

MJ: "Hmm. Don't trust anything that old with humanity."

Pete: Pete chuckled. "That the vampire in you speaking or just you?"

MJ: "Maybe both. Don't judge me."

Pete: "Oh no, I don't. I can completely see why someone wouldn't trust him, I don't blame you."

MJ: "But ya did."

Pete: "I did, yeah. Feels like he stitched me back together. Not just him, though. Being there, the whole experience."

MJ: "Mm. I can't say shit on the matter."

Pete: "Sounds like you had your own similar experience, only in a different setting."

MJ: "What, runnin' away from shit?"

Pete: "With your demon friend."

MJ: "Apples n'oranges."

Pete: "True. But they're both still fruits at the end of the day."

MJ: His mouth opened - closed. "Nah. M'thinkin' a tomatoes."

Pete: "Tomatoes?"

MJ: "Fruit."

Pete: "Well, it might not go in a fruit salad but it's still a fruit, too. That's all life is. One big salad."

MJ: "Dude, you're a fuckin' hippie."

Pete: Well he was just all smiles now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight as he finished off his glass. "Yep, 'fraid so."

MJ: "I miss the man that would throw punches." He didn't mean to say that out loud, but too late. He would mirror finishing his own glass to shut his mouth.

Pete: Pete tried to temper his expression. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one to have a slip on this new leaf of theirs.

"If it makes you feel any better, he threw one a couple weeks ago."

MJ: Like a dog with perked ears. "Who deserved it?"

Pete: "Creepy old perv that cornered a kid at the park."

MJ: "The fuck? How many times did ya punch him?"

Pete: "Twice. Cal and I had gone to the soccer field one evening just for fun and when we first arrived at the park there was this group of kids hanging out by the swings. Oldest one looked about fourteen. When we were leaving we passed by the playground again and there was only one of the kids left and this mouth-breathing cockbag had him pressed against one of the poles."

MJ: "The fuck did he - Did ya tell Bre..." Oh. Right. That can of half-dead worms. MJ looked away, arms coming in to cross and rest on his stomach. "The sheriff woulda taken care of him."

Pete: "He did. Cal called him while I tried not to commit murder."

MJ: The vampire's lips slowly thinned. "How is he?"

Pete: "Regrettably still alive, but in the county jail."

MJ: "Nanana - the uh, the sheriff."

Pete: "Oh! He's fine. Also had to resist the urge to commit murder. Actually the second time he had to resist, and for the exact same reason."

MJ: "Thought this was gonna be a meth town. I'd rather a meth town. Whatever." With that, he was on his feet, fishing for his wallet.

Pete: "The only comfort--if it can even be called that--is that the cockbag doesn't live here. Fucking tourists."

He quickly shook his head and reached for his own wallet. "No no no, you don't have to do that. I'll get it."

MJ: "Why? Did ya win the lottery?"

Pete: He just smiled and placed a few bills on the bar. "Let your new friend buy your drinks, wouldya please?"

MJ: "New friend tryin'ta get in my pants?"

Pete: "New friend who will hold your metaphorical hair while you're sick."

MJ: "Tisk. Aw jeez. What a pal." A five was tossed out of friendly spite.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just laughed and waved goodbye to Dwight and Charles. "Good seeing you, Charlie."

"You, too, kid. Ya'll come back now."

MJ: "Ya go treat yourself t'the spa! On me, Charl." The door was allowed to close with its own weight behind him.

Pete/Charlie: "There are cheaper ways to get a happy ending!" Charles called after them.

Pete shook his head as the door closed. "Ol' Charl never changes. He's gonna outlive us all."

MJ: "If he's anything he hides it like a pro."

Pete: "He's probably just some kind of super human powered by stubbornness and whiskey sours."

MJ: "My uncle lived on canned beans and bacon. Anything's possible."

Pete: "Some people just have that gene I guess. So. Where to now?"

MJ: "Need t'find some kinda spell t'push this town closer t'the city."

Pete: "And have them city slickers ruining the place? Never."

MJ: "Nothin' t'do 'round here. How did I - mm." A hand clasped firmly to his stomach.

Pete: Uh oh.

He looked around for a suitable bush. "Over there. Easy does it now."

MJ: "'Easy does it'? Did ya gain fifty years while I was gone?" To the bush, then.

Pete: "I've got a pregnant sister I've been saying it to a lot. Need anything to make this easier?"

MJ: Peter was waved off. "Fuck off for a minute." No one needed to see vomit and blood and hear the retched sound.

Pete: "Yep, can do." Pete was just gonna step a safe distance away and turn around while MJ did what he needed to do.

MJ: The unmistakable sound would reach Peter's ears within moments. Spit and curses following. All for the sake of company and some shred of domesticity.

"Where to now? My place. I need some fuckin' Listerine."

Pete: Pete winced. Not because of the sound, he'd heard worse. He just wanted MJ to feel comfortable.

"Sure thing. Need a napkin or anything?"

MJ: "Don't fuckin' baby me. I got it."

Pete: "All right, all right. Lead the way then."

MJ: Miles to the mobile home park. To the same lot which had been his years ago. The same people, the same attitudes. Not so late in the night for silence. A herd of children were being rounded up by two men armed with water guns.

Leslie Issott waved with his free hand, saying nothing in his passing. Yellow and pink squirt gun still aimed at his neighbor's son.

Pete: It had been ages since Pete had walked down this way, or walked this much on a non-full moon night. Something to remedy now that the weather was starting to warm up.

Pete smiled at Leslie as they passed, returning the wave.

"Place always looks exactly the same," he said absently. "Or it seems to, anyway."

MJ: "S'real people. Kind m'not interested in - in that way, ya know?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Any of them roll out the welcome wagon for you?"

MJ: "Just got here." Tunnel vision for this meeting, MJ hadn't lingered long enough for anyone to say hello.

Pete: Another nod. "Bet someone does before long."

Pete's eyes narrowed as they approached MJ's house. "Does your RV look...newer?"

MJ: "Uh... yeah. Other one kinda... broke."

Pete: "Really? Huh. Well, an upgrade is always nice."

MJ: "I guess. Shit happens."

Yes, it was his RV, but he was going to knock for Abel's sake.

Abel: Abel was sitting upside down watching something on his phone when the scent of MJ registered a moment before he heard the knock at the door.

"I'm not naked!" he called. Although at this point, did it really matter? They'd been living in the same space for ages, what was a bare ass between friends.

MJ: A statement which put a smile on MJ's face. A wink to Peter before opening the door.

"Good, 'cause I got innocent eyes here that don't need t'see your dangly bits."

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed in confused amusement at the shouted greeting.

"Is he usually naked?" he asked before they stepped inside.

Abel turned toward MJ and their surprise guest. He gasped. "Did you make a friend? In less than twenty-four hours?! I'm so proud!"

MJ: "Shaddup. This is Peter. Remember Peter? " Said casually, of course, but the look in his eye was one which said "be nice" in all capital letters above his head. If only he could manage that without Peter noticing.

Pete/Abel: Whether Pete noticed or not, he was going to pretend he didn't.

Abel did though. "Oh! Yeah, I do!" He righted himself and got to his feet. "Hi, Peter, I'm Abel. I promise not to show you my dangly bits."

Pete laughed and reached out to shake his hand. "I appreciate that. You can call me Pete, by the way."

MJ: This felt awkward. Hours and hours and miles and miles leading up to this moment, and he wanted to turn his ass around and pull Peter by the collar.

And yet, in contrast, why care? What was the point?

"Gonna swish." Abel was given another look. "I did the thing."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Ew, gross. Forget swishing, go whole hog and brush your teeth. I'll entertain Pete with some jokes and an improvised dance number."

MJ: "I need t'put on some cabaret?" He'd certainly hum some on the way to the bathroom.

Pete/Abel: “Every little thing helps!” Abel called after him, swaying along with the tune until it faded.

He turned back to Pete and smiled. “All right. I’m gonna bounce. I owe you some jokes.”

“Oh no, you don’t have t—“

“I don’t but I do so I’m gonna. Good to meet you, Pete.”

“Abel, really—“

“Nope, trust me, you both need this.”

And just like that, he was gone.

MJ: He did a thing, now Abel did a thing. He could feel it in the silence. What side was the damn familiar on?

"It got quiet," gargled from behind the bathroom door.

Pete: “Uh...yeah, it did. Your friend decided to make himself scarce.”

MJ: "What did he think, we gonna fuck?"

Pete: “Does he? You know him better than I do.”

MJ: "Askin' if he said that or somethin'."

Pete: “He just said we both needed this.”

MJ: The door was carefully kicked open while he swished. Words in neon orange above his head, struggling to remain visible.

'You agree?'

Pete: Impossible not to smile. A small bit of magic perhaps but incredibly impressive. Sure beat the hell out of pantomiming.

"Maybe, yeah. Do you?"

MJ: He didn't want to just dismiss the idea. Abel was meant to be some sort of buffer. Part of the reason he'd been brought across country. Abel must have known that.

The neon changed color, faded to yellow question marks.

Pete: "He could've felt like he'd be intruding by staying. Or he didn't wanna make it weird."

MJ: Time to spit. "Was it weird?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Not at Charlie's, but that was more familiar. Meeting someone new is always a little weird. Even for normal people."

MJ: "Familiars eat that shit up. Least that one does." The door was shut behind him. Jacket tossed over the nearest seat.

Pete: "Maybe he just wanted to give you some privacy." He smiled. "You know, like friends do."

MJ: "Maybe he thinks we'll fuck."

Pete: Another shrug. "A logical assumption, I guess. Anyone would think the same."

MJ: "Anyone? 'Cause we had a wild year t'gether?"

Pete: "People assume far more about people who've known each other for far less."

MJ: MJ leaned his shoulder against the nearest bit of wall, picked at his less-than-perfect fingernails.

"Ya remember what ya said t'me, once, 'bout how I didn't give ya enough attention?"

Pete: Pete nodded and looked down at his hands. He remembered every excruciating moment alongside the good ones.

"I do."

MJ: "What was it?"

Pete: "I said..." A sigh. "I said that I felt like I had to share you with everyone, that you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

MJ: "I didn't vamp into this." He gestured around the RV. "I was raised in one of these until Kenna was born. Daddy got us a brick n'mortar, but I still lived in the RV. Never had a curfew. No questions but if I had a good time, if I got caught. If we wanted t'get up n'go, we got up n'went. M'not used t'this." Pointed between them.

"I left Rohan, too. Just got that itch. Wasn't safe, it said. Then I got chased. Everything screamin' at me t'save myself. Like bein' backed in a corner." More picking at his nails, looking up to continue.

"I loved Rohan. I loved you. Still do, but that's just love. That ain't... enough reason t'do anything more than say I love ya."

Pete: They'd had such different upbringings. Not quite polar opposite, but still different. He tried to imagine his own parents taking that approach, tried to imagine how he would be and how his siblings would be if they had.

A dull, familiar ache pulsed in his chest as he offered MJ a small smile. "I don't have any illusions or expectations of anything more. I didn't even have illusions or expectations of that. Hope, sure, but not any expectations. I just want you to be happy and okay."

MJ: "But ya wanted me here. I get wantin' texts or somethin'. I get that now. Back then, that was too much, but that's on me."

Pete: "I probably was, too. Too needy, too emotional, asking too much. If I was, at any point, I'm sorry."

MJ: "Ya wanted the picture. I ain't ever been the picture, Peter."

Pete: "Well, it's like the Stones say, you don't always get what you want. It was unfair of me to try to fit you into some ideal. Some mold. You deserve better than that from someone who loves you."

MJ: "N'ya deserve someone that's around. M'not gonna always be around. Ya deserve what ya always wanted."

Pete: "The rest of that lyric is 'if you try sometimes, you get what you need'."

MJ was given another smile. "You know what I really want? Something real. Not the ideal or the mold or the thing that looks like what everyone thinks it should look like. I just want something real."

MJ: "How m'I supposed t'know what ya really mean n'what you'll say t'get what ya want?" Spoken carefully and clearly despite his accent, words as delicate as the situation.

Pete: Pete gave a small shrug. "I think this is something where actions speak louder than words. I can tell you all day but that won't make you believe me. I have to prove it to you."

MJ: Fingernails were beginning to warm from constant picking. Too good of a distraction.

"Same."

Pete: "So I guess my question is, what can I do to prove it to you?"

MJ: "I don't have the answer, either. Thought about it the whole way here. Only thing I came up with was pretendin' we never met."

Pete: "Well..." He offered up smile. "We've made our introductions, new friend. The rest is in the lap of the gods."

MJ: "Ya believe in that stuff?"

Pete: "In gods?"

MJ: "Mhm."

Pete: "I don't think I'm a capital 'B' believer, but I do, yeah. I pray my Druid prayers every day. It comforts me."

MJ: "Callum, I guess?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Madeleine. Gaetan's current eldest daughter."

MJ: "Current eldest?"

Pete: "His family tree is pure chaos. Took me a long time to get it straight. He's had countless children in his life, countless daughters. Madeleine is his eldest at the moment and she looks like she could be his mother."

MJ: "He just lets em all die?"

Pete: "He gives them a choice."

MJ: "Sure." He didn't know enough to have an opinion, outside of the wary of druids and their strange magic.

Pete: Pete didn't understand it much either, but it was one of those things he hadn't felt comfortable inquiring on further.

"Yeah, so. Madeleine was the one who suggested I join her during her evening prayer and eventually taught them to me. She said people derive comfort from their prayers. She must've thought I looked like I needed comfort."

MJ: "What were ya like 'fore I came here? The guy I met at the bar, I only knew him for a little 'fore ya became this."

Pete: "I'm not all that different. From my perspective anyway. Just less angry, not in as much inner turmoil, or that weird feeling of limbo I didn't realize I had."

MJ: "Maybe what ya fell in love with in me ain't here anymore."

Pete: "I could say the same to you. You may very well decide I'm insufferable and not want anything to do with me." Pete shrugged. "We won't know until we get to know each other."

MJ: "How d'ya wanna get t'know me? Ya got somethin' in mind? Ya thought about this, didn't ya?"

Pete: He just smiled. "Only thing I had in mind was to take you with me on a full moon. Or invite you at least. Maybe go for a swim, catch some fish."

MJ: "I'll come with ya. Yeah. But what ya wanna do until then?"

Pete: "Right this minute? We could watch something or go down to the pub with Abel."

MJ: "We just left a bar!" MJ laughed.

Pete: "We don't have to drink! We can just be there and people watch or bother Bobby. Watching something is also an option at the pub, I put a TV in my office."

MJ: "You're a workaholic."

Pete: “I put it up there precisely so I could have a little break from work. And the cats really like it.”

MJ: "Catsssss?"

Pete: “June brings Socks with her so he can hang out with his brother.”

MJ: "N'people think I'm a nut."

Pete: “You got nothing on us crazy cat people,” Pete said with a grin.

MJ: "I mean, rat person. Totally different breed."

Pete: “Midas is a rat person, too. Only hunts bugs and sticks.”

MJ: "I don't trust a face that beautiful."

Pete: “That beautiful little face once watched a field mouse eat his food and just meowed and looked sad.”

MJ: "The mouse will always come back now."

Pete: "He definitely did a couple times before we came back to the States."

MJ: "Alright, so ya want outta the RV?"

Pete: "Unless you wanna watch something here or just keep talking. I don't much mind where we go."

MJ: His mind was pulled in two directions. One simple and safe, one convoluted and certainly unsafe. Maybe a test. One which pushed leadership into Peter's hands as he stepped closer, less than the appropriate distance of acquaintanceship. His scent had not changed. Leather, gasoline, nature. The same cinnamon toothpaste. MJ took a breath, wanting to breathe in nostalgia.

Pete: Pete went very still as MJ approached, watching him with quiet curiosity and perhaps just a hint of caution.

He did smell exactly the same, reminded Pete of exactly the same things. Of his motorcycle and the forest. He wondered if he did, too. He still wore the same cologne, still smelled vaguely of smoke, still used the same soap.

So many things had remained the same and once upon a time, Pete would've just leaned forward to kiss MJ, easy as anything. But not everything was the same; there were things that had changed. They had changed.

All Pete could think to do was smile and say, "Let's go walk on the beach."

MJ: Well, there were some of their answers. Not the expected reaction of the man he'd once fallen to pieces over. Maybe that spontaneity had aged; maybe that new scent brought with it a composure his Peter hadn't possessed. Either way, he couldn't expect change and what had been his sweetheart to remain the same.

"Sure."

'You're gettin' hazed when ya get home. Ya in my head, pup?'

Anyway, a new shirt, same jacket. "Lead the way."

Pete/Abel: Spontaneity had given way to caution, at least for now. He wanted to kiss MJ. To hug him and cling to him and have everything be exactly as it had once been, as easy as it had once been.

But if he gave in to those wants, he risked losing MJ entirely. MJ could take it as proof that Pete wasn't really prepared to start at square one or that he was too hung up on who MJ had been to accept who he was now. And kissing MJ once right now wasn't worth potentially losing him. As ready as Pete was to fight for him and as willing as he was to start over, he wasn't willing to take that risk.

Pete smiled. "All right. I can show you the two-headed turtle."

'I made myself scarce! It's polite to make yourself scarce when your roommate brings his ex home!' Abel thought back.

MJ: The voice in his head, feminine and ripe with wisdom reminded him that this was for the best. Nothing lasted forever, not even immortals. Why should love be any different? A human lifetime was gone in a snap. Fera fell right behind them. Where were druids? These were not hills to die upon.

But he loved them both. He loved the memory of one, and the purity of the other. Hills.

'He's not a - doesn't matter! I needed a buffer ya dick!'

Peter was shooed from the door, locking the RV behind him. Not a barrier for the familiar. 'Go get laid or somethin'.'

Abel: 'Well then you should've said so! Communication, MJ. Remember that whole conversation we had about sharing our feelings with that homeless guy in Nebraska?'

But if it was buffer MJ wanted, then buffer he would get.

Within moments, Abel would come barreling out of the darkness with a tennis ball in his mouth, once more in dog form.

MJ: Fucking goddamn!

"Didn't wanna go get laid, huh?" The ball was grabbed from his mouth, thrown further down the dirt road.

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed as he scented the air. "...Abel?"

A confirming bark before the familiar went racing after the ball.

MJ: "Did ya just sniff the fuckin' air?"

Pete: "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "I do that now. I also scratch my back on trees."

MJ: "Like, in both forms?"

Pete: "Nah, tree bark hurts in human form. I use door frames in human form."

MJ: "My fuckin' god, dude. How do they feel? Morphin'."

Pete: "Like becoming a human rubik's cube, or clay. I don't know what giving birth is like but I imagine it's kind of like that."

MJ: "Hurts like bein' squeezed outta a three-inch tube, or does it feel good... eventually?"

Pete: "A three-inch tube, yes, that's exactly it. But when it's done, there's just relief. Which is how my sister described childbirth."

MJ: "Yeah, some chemical shit makes ya forget." His smile reignited. "Childbirth. That's funny as shit. Givin' birth to yourself, I guess."

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed. "Yep, that's me. Giving birth to myself once a month."

Abel ran back towards them, ball in mouth.

MJ: "Toss it for him. He's really a dog like this."

Pete/Abel: "It's like when I'm a bear." Pete took the ball from Abel and tossed it, chuckling as the dog went racing after it again.

MJ: "Ya completely gone under the fur?"

Pete: He shook his head. "Not completely. The first few times I blacked out but now I'm fairly aware when I transform."

MJ: "But I mean, ya have... a bear brain, I guess?"

Pete: "Yep, along with everything else. I'm exhausted the whole winter, eat a ton leading up to it. And I now have actual chest hair."

MJ: "I dunno how to ask; my rats have linear thoughts n'great memory. Super simple. S'what I me - wait what?"

Pete: "Chest hair. I've got some now. A good bit actually, teenage me would be thrilled."

MJ: "Lemme see."

Pete: Pete tugged down the collar of his shirt just enough to expose some of his new crop of chest hair. It wasn't at the most extreme end of the hairy chest spectrum but it held its own.

MJ: "Shit, ya got more than me now," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: "It's them bear genes," Pete said with a grin.

And once more out of the darkness came Abel. It was MJ's turn to toss the tennis ball and the familiar showed no signs of getting tired. It had been a while since he'd played fetch.

MJ: The ball was taken and bounced between hands. He threw! but no he didn't. The ball held behind his back.

"I think about... things we didn't do."

Pete/Abel: "You mean other than playing fetch with a magical dog?"

Abel fell for it. Completely. His current doggie brain didn't realize MJ hadn't thrown the ball until he got about 20 feet ahead of them.

MJ: "Wow that really works." The ball was thrown in truth down their path.

He waited for those ears to get far enough away.

"People assume shit, with how I look. Big dudes like big dude things."

Pete: Ah. Those things. A sudden vision of the dream he was convinced he'd shared with MJ came into his head.

"Yeah. I'm familiar with that particular assumption. I made it of you, didn't I?"

MJ: "Don't blame ya. I didn't open my fuckin' mouth."

Pete: "I didn't ask and I should've. That was an important conversation to have."

MJ: "We talk with our bodies. I gave ya all sorts of conversation. I loved all of it. I'm also a liar."

Pete: "There was plenty to love. And for the record? Makes no difference to me."

MJ: "You're a fuckin' bottom if there ever was one," MJ grinned.

Pete: Pete laughed. "Can't argue with that, I guess. But I've flipped that coin before. I am technically bi, you know."

MJ: "So am I. Most people are, they just don't say shit. S'what I think."

Pete: “Yeah, maybe. Point is, I have no objection or...aversion to coin flipping.”

MJ: "I guess I don't, but like, m'still dead."

Pete: "And I'm a forest creature."

MJ: "Ya don't cum blood."

Pete: “We can’t help what form our bodily fluids come in.”

MJ: Peter was given a look. A long stare of scrutiny as they walked.

Pete: He just gave MJ an earnest smile and took his turn throwing the ball when Abel came back with it.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it."

MJ: "About my bodily fluids?"

Pete: "About all of it. Conversations, feelings, everything."

MJ: "Wanna spill?"

Pete: "Told you about that dream I had, right? About us?"

MJ: That had been one hell of a night. He squinted in the darkness. "Sounds... familiar."

Pete: "Well, we were in this dream version of my living room or somewhere and we were...like we used to be. You were in my lap and it felt so normal and we had one of those silent body conversations and it was so clear that...well, that the coin should've been flipped. I don't know how I didn't see it."

MJ: "Didn't want ya to, I guess." Abel was lifted under his arm, tennis ball bounced for the sake of teasing.

"Breakin' our rules left n'right."

Pete/Abel: Abel made a couple of half-hearted attempts to snatch the ball but all that running had worn him out. Better to catch his breath.

Pete smiled. "Yeah, we are. I should be asking how the cross-country drive was."

MJ: "About as fun as roamin' France, probably."

Pete: “Did ya’ll do a straight shot on highways only or have a proper road trip?”

MJ: "Dirt roads. Largest ball of yarn, corn fields in Nebraska, that kinda thing. Walked the streets of Chicago. Met a girl." He swiveled his hand. "Long trip here."

Pete: Mention of a girl would be ignored. For now. "Sounds like it. You know there's cryptids in those cornfields. My grandpa used to tell us stories about them."

MJ: "Nothin' surprises me anymore. Not about what exists. Tell me ya got abducted by aliens, maybe that'll get me."

Pete: “Not me, but by all accounts Grandpop Hiram did.”

MJ: MJ slowly turned his head to face his old boyfriend.

Pete: “No shit,” he chuckled. “He told me, right hand to god, that he got abducted while driving down a country road in the middle of the night and they didn’t return him until the next morning.”

MJ: "Now that'll take me a minute. Coulda been a fake memory."

Pete: "It could've, except that he didn't get returned in the same place. He woke up on his front lawn, truck nowhere to be found. The old sheriff found it abandoned in the middle of the road, keys still in it and everything, except no Hiram. Luke and I asked Peabody to see if there was still a report on file and there was, just like grandpop said. Abandoned truck in the middle of the road, lights still on, keys in the ignition."

MJ: "N'he don't remember jack shit? 'Sides bein' taken." A vampire, and even he felt that sting of doubt. Like what he imagined delirium to be like for kine.

Pete: "No, he did. He remembered laying on a cold surface and bright lights and shadowy figures standing over him."

MJ: "Ah. See, nah. That's too 50s."

Pete: "It was in the 50s."

MJ: "See?! No way, man. He's why we got movies like Close Encounters."

Pete: “Orrrrrr there just isn’t that much variation to how alien surgery is performed. Anyway, grandpop had that thing where his eyes were different colors and he said that after that incident, the colors were switched.”

MJ: "Heterochromia," a word smooth from his tongue, of course, having such eyes, though not quite the same.

"I don't think a little green man is gonna travel lifetime after lifetime after lifetime just to poke some flesh n'set it free."

Pete/Abel: "Yes, that word. And judging from what everyone says, that's exactly what the little green men do. Right, Abel? Back me up."

Abel barked once before thinking, 'Yeah, he's totally right,' to MJ.

MJ: "Ya ain't seen no goddamn aliens, Abe."

Abel: 'Hey, I could've seen aliens, you don't know. We spent a long time in Nebraska with Kenny the homeless guy. Ooh! I bet Kenny's seen aliens.'

MJ: "Of course Kenny's seen aliens. Guy had a mullet n'worked with corn in the 70s."

Pete: "Who's Kenny?" asked Pete.

MJ: "Some homeless dude we met in Nebraska. Had a thousand tales. Probably half true."

Pete/Abel: "And Kenny has a mullet, worked with corn, and has seen aliens, huh?"

'If anyone has, it's definitely--wait he can't hear me. MJ, if I switch back so I can talk will you still carry me?'

MJ: "Sure, piggy-back." Abel was placed on the ground between their feet.

"Yeah, all that Kenny stuff."

Pete/Abel: Once on the ground again, Abel gave himself a good shake and switched back to his human form, which was a far more streamlined process than Pete was used to. And Abel even got to keep his clothes on.

"Hi again!" the familiar said brightly. "Up, please!"

MJ: MJ bent his knee, waiting for that familiar weight of the familiar before returning to pace. This was completely normal.

"So yeah, Nebraska."

Pete/Abel: “Sounds like a hoot,” said Pete, smiling as Abel scrambled up on MJ’s back and clung to him like a koala. “Were any of Kenny’s maybe true stories about aliens?”

Abel shook his head. “No but he had a lot to say about drones and the pesticides they use on the corn.”

MJ: "He was on the same tree, not the right branch. Ya believe that shit?"

Pete: “The drones or the pesticides?”

MJ: "Both."

Pete: “The pesticides are fact. The drones, I’m not so sure. At least on a Big Brother kind of level. All those YouTube kids have drones.”

MJ: "If I had it my way there'd be no security cameras ever, but I'm fuckin' biased, and kinda fuckin' dead."

Pete: “I don’t think there’s any escaping them now. You can escape the YouTube kids though.”

MJ: "Gets easier n'harder at the same time."

Pete: “That’s progress, I guess. Keep an eye out for a rock with a turtle painted on it.”

MJ: "This metaphorical or literal?"

Pete: “Literal. It’s the marker for where the two-headed turtle lives.”

MJ: "The fuck are we doin' again? The beach?"

Pete: “Yes, and we’re also visiting the two-headed turtle.”

MJ: "Alright. Two-headed turtle it is. Wanna see a two-headed turtle, Abe?"

Abel: “Do you even have to ask? I’d go anywhere to see a turtle, especially if it has two heads.”

MJ: "I sure love not bein' the only weirdo."

Abel: “Turtles aren’t weird!”

MJ: "No. They're slow speech and wise. You. You're weird."

Abel: “For loving turtles?” Abel scoffed. “Nuh-uh. You’re weird, you like cowboy music.”

MJ: "What's wrong with Garth Brooks?"

Abel: “All his songs sound the same.”

MJ: "N'Reba?"

Abel: “Isn’t that a sitcom?”

MJ: "I'mma drop your ass."

Abel: Abel laughed. “You wouldn’t, Pete would think you’re a meanie.”

MJ: "I am a meanie. How d'ya not know Fancy? Or uh, The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia?"

Abel: “And here I thought Fallout Boy had long song titles. Why is all country music about the south? The north has countryside and cows too.”

MJ: "Folk, bluegrass, country, southern rock, country rock, hillbilly, blues, bluegrass; s'all countryside."

Abel: “Aren’t you Hungarian? How does a nice Hungarian boy develop a taste for the banjo and ballads about trucks?”

MJ: "I was born here, believe it or not. My old man just happens t'like that shit."

Pete/Abel: “Ah, well, we all need a guilty pleasure. Right, Pete?”

Pete smiled and nodded. “Right. Also we’ve arrived.” He pointed at a rock with a turtle painted on it. “Callum warded his home so some piece of shit kid didn’t kill it or kidnap it.”

MJ: "How's that work? Kill the kid instead?"

Pete: “What, no. It just keeps them from getting too close. He read a story about some little assholes killing a swan’s babies and it upset him so much he started warding every nest he found.”

MJ: "Ol' Callum's magic. Ya might like em, Abe. I see X in him. They'd hate each other or love each other."

The familiar was placed back on his own feet.

"N'I'm more than just Hungarian. Ya know that."

Pete/Abel: “They’ve met,” Pete sighed. “Cal’s not a fan.”

“He’s not alone in that.” Abel stretched. “Xavier is an acquired taste. Like kombucha.”

MJ: "See? Love or hate. Here's my thing: they're alike. Can't tell ya how. I ain't that articulate. They just are."

Pete: “Well, whatever you do, don’t ever say that to Callum,” Pete chuckled. “Have you talked to him since you’ve been here?”

MJ: "Have I?" He looked to Abel and laughed.

Abel: Abel grinned. “Xavier? He pops into our heads every now and then. Or to the RV. I think he misses us.”

MJ: "Think he means Cal."

Abel: “Oh! Yeah you definitely have. I haven’t.”

MJ: "Yeah, see. Definitely have."

Pete: “How did it go?” asked Pete.

MJ: "M'still alive. Hallelujah," MJ smiled.

Pete: Pete smiled back. “Yes you are. And he didn’t chase you around with a broom or sic the dog on you?”

MJ: "Not tonight. Maybe later. I'd probably deserve it."

Pete: He shook his head. “No, you don’t. He knows that, deep down.”

MJ: "Sure." His go-to when he had nothing to add, he realized. Wondered if that had always been the case, and too lazy to change it.

Pete/Abel: Pete just smiled and led MJ and Abel over to where the turtle liked to spend its time.

Sure enough, at their approach, two little heads poked out from the brush.

“Turtles!” Abel went in for a closer look, crouching so he was closer to the turtles’ level.

MJ: "Are they sayin' anything, Abe? They some hive mind, or they hate each other?"

MJ took to crouching by the familiar's side.

Abel: “I dunno, I can’t talk to them without that spell. Maybe you can talk to them.” He wasn’t sure if turtles greeted by sniffing but he offered them a finger anyway. “Hey there little guys!”

MJ: He'd take to the ground, then, chin against folded arms. Did turtles even make sounds? He waited patiently for eye contact, his only means of establishing a connection.

"Hey there, uglies."

Pete/Abel: “MJ!” Abel and Pete said in unison.

Being closer, Abel would be the one to give his friend a light smack on the shoulder. “Don’t be rude. They’re so cute! Don’t listen to him, fellas. You’re fantastic.”

One the heads seemed determined to stare anywhere but at the two beings before it. The other showed a bit more interest.

MJ: "I bet ya want your own body, huh?" Only one mind to speak with. Interested in all things. This existence was the only existence; he couldn't miss what he'd never had. Not the way humans lamented. His brother, not so much. More aware, perhaps.

"Y'all hungry?"

Pete: “I take it you mean the turtles,” said Pete, looking around for something the little reptiles could eat. “Ask them if they like snails and worms.”

MJ: "Can't go wrong with strawberries. Abe, got any? Or some snail 'bout to meet their end?"

Pete/Abel: “On me? Nope. There miiiight be some in the fridge? Can’t say what state they’re in though.”

Pete, meanwhile, was already on a snail and worm hunt. He couldn’t hear them in his human form as well as he could in his bear form but he liked to think he could a little bit. At least we’ll enough to find a snack for a two-headed turtle.

MJ: "What ya think, uglies?" They couldn't argue; this was free food either way.

Meanwhile, MJ would lay on his stomach in front of them, having their own private conversation.

Abel: Another smack to the shoulder courtesy of Abel. “They’re not ugly! Think of a cuter nickname for them. They’re special, they need a cute nickname.”

MJ: "What's wrong with bein' ugly?!"

Pete: “Absolutely nothing but they’re not ugly, they’re adorable. Ask them what their names are.”

MJ: "Fine! Fine." He searched for the brother's eyes, urging contact and a conversation to follow.

"They ain't got names. Most things don't. Just feelin. Like... this one's left n'this one's right. My other half, kinda thing. Alright. Larry n'Todd."

Pete/Abel: Abel’s face lit up. “Perfect! Larry and Todd, I love it. They look like a Larry and a Todd.”

“Soup’s on.” Pete returned with a couple of slugs and a worm.

MJ: "Hey, that is inappropriate wordin' 'round turtles."

Pete/Abel: “Oop, you’re right. Sorry, boys.”

“Larry and Todd!” Abel said cheerfully.

“Ah. Sorry, Larry and Todd.” He placed a slug in front of each head.

MJ: "I think they share a stomach. We'll find out in a minute." And away they went, chowing down on their little feast in what shadow they could find.

Pete: “They probably do since they share all their other parts. I think. They’re the only two-headed anything I’ve ever seen.” Pete offered the worm as well and left the little turtles to eat.

MJ: "Some share the same brain. Saw it on YouTube. Mama would show a picture to one head n'the other would know the color."

Pete: “That’s incredible. Must be difficult to adjust to life attached to another person but when it works, it’s incredible. I’m guessing they weren’t able to safely separate the people in the video?”

MJ: "Hell no. Same brain! Or part of brain, but yeah. Like those guys from the Circus way back when. Just an inch of skin kept em together, but they shared a liver."

Pete: “Oh! Um...dangit what were their names...Chang and Eng!”

MJ: "There's a reason I love ya."

Pete: Pete tried and failed to hide his smile. “My recall ability for names?”

MJ: "Ya know your freaks."

Pete: “I do what I can. Didn’t Chang and Eng have like a dozen kids?”

MJ: "Think so, yeah. Ain't gonna let an inch of skin stop em."

Pete: “An inch of skin and a liver.” He shook his head in awe. “Fucking incredible. I wonder if being conjoined gave them any abilities. Seems like the kinda thing that would.”

MJ: "Abilities? What, like you?"

Pete: “Not necessarily. Something non-Fera related. Something...I don’t know, magical. Possibly psychic.”

MJ: "Ya got an imagination on ya. That's for sure."

Pete: “I blame Graham’s books,” he chuckled. “Been reading a lot of them.”

MJ: "Graham?"

Pete: “My nephew.”

MJ: "Ah. Graham Graham. Of course."

Pete: “Yeah. He loves him a bedtime story. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve read Alice in Wonderland.”

MJ: "Ya know, I get I fit the description of people that'd like it, but nah."

Pete: “Mad hatters and hares and magic potions not your thing?”

MJ: "Vampire ruined it for me."

Pete: “First time Stella read it to Graham he painted all their roses red. She was horrified, Callum was tickled pink.”

MJ: "Ha." Reminded him of Brett. Left a taste in his mouth.

"What cha wanna do now?"

Pete: “I picked the walk and the turtle. Your turn. Or Abel’s if he wants to take one.”

MJ: "What cha wanna do, Abe?"

Abel: “Hmmm....” Abel thought for a moment. “I need a snack. And a cherry coke. And possibly some rainbow sherbet.”

MJ: "So we raid the Walmart?"

Abel: “Yes!” Abel said brightly. “I love Walmart!”

MJ: "That's about the most trash thing ya ever said. Don't ever let X hear ya say that."

Abel: “He loves Walmart, too, he owns a crap ton of stock.”

MJ: "That ain't the same as love. Trust me."

Abel: “Walmart keeps our Xavier in the Armani suits and it keeps us in cherry coke and rainbow sherbet. And chips.”

MJ: That reminded him, he should check on his own stock before sunrise. Another one of X's bits of advice. Same as his father. A truck driver with more stock than he knew what to do with. He wondered how his old man was.

"Walmart can keep ya in the chips without the stock, I promise ya that."

Abel: “Yeah, you’re probably right. This whole country loves it. So are we going?”

MJ: You have no idea what I mean and that's cute.

"Yeppers." He looked to Peter with a smile. "Comin'?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. “Sure! I could go for a cherry coke. How are we getting there?”

MJ: "I dunno how to fly a broom yet, so..."

Abel: “I can take us!” Abel piped in. “I already know where it is, I saw it one day when I was exploring. Everyone take a hand.”

MJ: "Careful with Peter; he's a delicate honey bear."

Pete: “I’ve teleported before,” Pete said as he took Abel’s hand. “Feels like getting squeezed through a straw on a tilt-a-whirl.”

MJ: "More druid stuff?"

Pete: “Another familiar.”

MJ: "How many familiars ya know?"

Pete: “Just one other. Callum’s cousin has one.”

MJ: "Huh." Abel's hand was given a squeeze. "So why ain't Callum got - why were ya flyin' around?"

Pete/Abel: “I needed to take a trip to New Orleans to visit someone.”

Abel squeezed both their hands. “Okay, you two, enough chit chat. I need sherbet! Ready?”

MJ: "Ready." He wasn't taking his breath. What would be the point? "What friend in - I didn't know ya had people there."

Pete/Abel: “Ready,” Pete echoed.

“All rightie. MJ, hold that thought. Petey, deep breath.” Abel held their hands to his chest and transported them across town to the Walmart. This time of night, there would be no one around to notice three men appearing out of thin air.

MJ: Still, MJ looked around. A hand came to rest on Peter's chest as though to steady him.

"Gonna puke?"

Pete: Pete, whose eyes were squeezed shut, held up a finger. He was trying to take deep even breaths to settle his body.

MJ: "Boy I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with that shit." Abel was given an appreciative smack to his shoulder.

"A trucker's feast, huh? Let's get ya some chips."

Pete/Abel: A few more moments and Pete finally opened his eyes.

“All right, I’m good. Let’s get junk food.”

Abel didn’t have to be told twice. He practically skipped into the store and led them first to the frozen section for sherbet.

MJ: MJ waited for Peter to fall into step with. His arm draped over his wide shoulders and squeezed.

"So back to New Orleans. Talk."

Pete: “Oh, right. Well, I don’t exactly have family there. Callum’s cousin is there and she’s my friend but mostly I went to visit the grave of my previous incarnation. Clarke.”

MJ: "Goddamn every single time ya speak ya got some sorta life changin' adventure. What the fuck did ya just say to me?"

Pete: Pete couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess I do, huh? I found my previous incarnation in Paris. In a photo, obviously, not in person.”

MJ: "How did ya chain them events together?"

Pete: “I didn’t at first. Took a few weeks before the chaining really got going.”

MJ: "Gonna explain in detail?"

Pete: “I don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know this is the kinda thing no one but me cares about.”

MJ: "I mean, sure. I'm more curious 'bout how ya found it. Sounds like a huge coincidence."

Pete: “It kinda was. Coincidence or fate, if you wanna look at it that way. I was in the exact right place at the exact right time. Walked by a frame shop right as the owner was placing a frame with his photo in the window.”

MJ: MJ looked ahead for Abel, stumbled a bit on his own feet, pushing into Peter. "And ya knew who it was?"

Pete: Pete immediately reached out to steady him. “Not then. All I knew was that something about the photo struck a chord and drew me in. So I bought it and after asking the owner if she had more photos of him, I bought those too.”

MJ: "Why she have a bunch of old photos? People buy that shit?" His mouth bunched to one side. "I dunno 'bout fate. Just seems too specific." He shrugged. "Anyway go on."

Pete: “It was a frame shop, she has a lot of random photos. She thought it was a shame for them to be in a box somewhere so she used them for her displays. She knew him, you see. Her brother had taken the photographs and she’d gotten them after he passed.”

MJ: MJ's brows began to knit. "Fuckin' how old was your past self? When was this shit?"

Pete: “Clarke died in 1981. He was thirty-one.”

MJ: "...Well, ya lived longer this time."

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yeah. Feel some kinda way about that.”

MJ: "What, worry or somethin'?"

Pete: “He was too damn young to die.”

MJ: Peter guided them for a row of bagged chips and processed dips, jerkies and candy bars, while MJ stared at him.

Pete: He forced a smile and brought himself back to the moment.

“Yeah, so. That’s how I found my reincarnation.”

MJ: "You're one of them people that loves themself."

Pete: “Not in a romantic way. Or a ‘gee, I’m so great’ way. Finding him was like finding a friend I’d lost. Made me feel less lonely.”

MJ: "I think I know what ya mean, but," he shrugged. "Guess I'd have to meet a me to know. That me don't exist."

Pete: “Reading his journals is the closest I’ll get to meeting him.”

MJ: "Maybe not. There's magick for everything. Depends what you're willin' to pay."

Pete: He shook his head. “This is the way it is. He died and now I’m here and someday I’ll go and there will be another link in the chain. Journals and some memories are more than so many people get of their past lives.”

MJ: "So, what, ya gonna start writin' journals for your future self?"

Pete: “I already have.”

MJ: MJ looked around for Abel. Nodded to him. "What ya think of that? Would ya love yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel had found a basket and was already busy filling it with gloriously unhealthy things.

“If I was a decent person then sure, I don’t see why not,” he said with a nod and a shrug. “Pete’s right, most people don’t get to learn about their past incarnations. It’s rare.”

MJ: "Fuckin' 'if'? You're an 'if'?" He laughed. Abel was about as chaotic as himself, but the admission, intentional or otherwise, tickled him.

"Ya 'bout done?"

Abel: “Hey, you never know. Past me could’ve been a dick.”

Abel looked down at his basket. “Just about. Still need cherry coke.”

MJ: "Next aisle." Memory from his previous employment. Felt like yesterday since he'd worn that stupid fucking vest.

Better to work for and with Xavier. For himself.

"Why ya feel like ya needed him? You're him. Was it like... findin' yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel moved away under the pretext of the soda and left them to talk.

Pete sighed. “I was going through a rough time when I learned about Clarke. Couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, felt the worst about myself that I ever have. He gave me hope. Comfort.”

MJ: "Rough because of that night?"

Pete: “It was a lot of things. Too many things all at once.”

MJ: "Sounds too easy."

Pete: “What does?”

MJ: "That answer. I dunno. Don't really like vague answers with close people. Strangers, not close."

Pete: “Well, that night happened. My dad nearly died. Found out he wasn’t really my dad after I tried to donate blood to keep him from dying. Had my private business out in the open for several weeks and was constantly bombarded with it. That specific enough?”

MJ: MJ watched, patiently. "Ya angry?"

Pete: Pete sighed. “No. But me saying it was a lot of things all at once wasn’t a cop-out. It’s me not wanting to give that whole spill of misery.”

MJ: "S'misery I wanna hear. S'misery I helped make. S'you. Talk for hours. Yell for hours. I don't give a fuck. It's you."

Pete: He didn’t quite know how to feel about that. There weren’t many people in his life that had ever given him carte blanche to yell or express his feelings with abandon. It was as foreign as it was touching.

“...Thanks. Walmart probably isn’t the ideal place for that kind of conversation though. Suffice it to say, I was having a really shitty time mentally and emotionally and learning about Clarke made it less shitty.”

MJ: "Ah shit, we've heard worse here. We're like Olive Garden. 'When you're here, your family.' N'shit."

MJ bumped into Peter's shoulder again. Something to pull him away. He stretched his shoulders and looked around the neighboring aisle for the familiar.

"Wanna see somethin'?"

Pete: “I’m positive that’s true but the aforementioned having my private business out there situation has made me a little more careful with where I have those conversations.”

Pete smiled and pointed out Abel, who’d made his way to the cracker aisle. “Sure. What kinda something?”

MJ: "Somethin' fun. Learned t'fuck with Abel over the years." Years. He'd never said that out loud before. What had been of their relationship was a toddler's age. People changed. His transformation was not much different than the man beside him. A beast in a man. A beast of a man.

"Watch him." A laser line of red whizzed past Abel's feet and over the nearby box of Ritz. The line returned from under the shelving and split off into three.

Abel: Abel, blissfully unaware of MJ's schemes, was on a single-minded hunt for Goldfish.

Well. Relatively single-minded was probably more accurate, because the sudden appearance of red light had his attention immediately. No matter how many times this gag was pulled on him, it was impossible to resist. He had to find and hunt down the lasers!

MJ: MJ bit against his cheek, helping conceal his laughter all of three seconds before bursting with a pfft and a snort.

Pete: Pete wasn't far behind; it was impossible not to laugh. "He really is a dog, isn't he?"

MJ: "Yep. Down to wantin' scratches behind his ear n'his leg kickin'."

The red lasers disappeared under the fat dairy fridges.

Pete/Abel: "Is he allergic to chocolate too? Or does his having a human form cancel that out?" He shook his head. "The whole having a human and animal form thing is still new to me. Not looking forward to being exhausted all winter."

Abel was helpless to follow the lasers as far as he could. It was a good thing the store was deserted this time of night because a grown man peering under the fridges definitely would've raised some questions.

MJ: The camera was brought out. Making a short video for the Atlas staff and family to enjoy. Priceless.

"Abe! Have I seen ya eat chocolate 'fore?"

Abel: Abel looked up like he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Huh? Chocolate--what?"

MJ: "Will it kill ya?"

Abel: "Chocolate? Only in dog form."

MJ: "Well, there ya go. Let's get a chocolate pretzel. Lemme live vicariously."

Pete/Abel: “Okay!” He took one last look under the fridges—just in case—and got to his feet. “They’re usually with the candy and nuts.”

“They are,” Pete confirmed.

MJ: Peter's shoulder was given a gentle nudge. "Ya gettin' somethin'?"

Pete/Abel: “My cherry coke aaaaand....Goldfish. And hot fries.”

“I got us Goldfish!” Abel called over his shoulder. “Knew you seemed like a Goldfish kinda guy.”

MJ: "The fuck are hot fries?"

Pete: "The far superior sibling of hot cheetos."

MJ: "I... was a cheese puffs kid. Nah. Take that back. Bugles."

Pete: "Well then let's find some Bugles so you can live even more vicariously."

MJ: "I already up chucked once tonight."

Pete: "Once is enough. I'll bravely eat them for you."

MJ: "Smellin' em is enough. I need candles of my old faves."

Pete: "I know someone who makes candles, if that's a serious request. I'm sure she could do something."

MJ: "She make candles smell like root beer and Bugles?"

Pete: "I don't think anyone's ever made a Bugle candle, but if anyone can, it's her."

MJ: "Druid?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. Callum's cousin Bronwyn. She owns a shop, sells candles and trinkets and witchy things."

MJ: "For real witchy or tourist witchy?"

Pete: "Tourist witchy on the surface, real witchy if you know what to look for. Gotta fly under the radar."

MJ: "Wanna take a look at that later, Abe?"

Abel: "Yeah!" As their snack haul had officially outgrown their basket, Abel divided the overflow between MJ and Pete's arms. "Did you want vicarious root beer, too, MJ? Or just the Bugles?"

MJ: "I can swish that shit and spit it out. Let's just go with Bugles."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Yeah, you definitely need a root beer candle. That's just wrong."

MJ: "What's wrong is that leech in Chicago chewin' tobacco."

Abel: "Ugh, god, the spitting can. Why not just vape like everyone else?"

MJ: "I love that you're offended."

Abel: "Spitting. Can. Spitting can, MJ."

MJ: "Angry puppers."

Abel: "I'd rather have to breathe in a cloud of cigarette reek than watch a grown ass man with ugly teeth spit into a Budweiser can."

MJ: "Have ya seen them motherfuckers vapin'? The look on their fuckin' millennial-Z faces?"

Abel: "At least they're not spitting into cans. I'll take them over that."

MJ: "Tryin'a think of worse. Can't think of anything but them people that ate mummies."

Pete: "Okay, all right, enough spit and mummies," said Pete, making a face himself. "Only snack talk allowed. Let's go get the cokes."

MJ: "But mummies were snacks," MJ grinned.

Pete: "Not for us, they're not."

MJ: "Bet Guildias did it once."

Pete: "Now you're just being a troll."

MJ: "What? Think he wouldn't?"

Abel: "Moratorium on mummies, please," said Abel. "We're having such a nice day, I'd rather not have any more cursed images in my head."

MJ: "Any more? What else ya got in there?"

Abel: "Spitting. Can."

MJ: "In all your forty years, that's the worst?"

Abel: "It's up there."

MJ: "What's the worst?"

Abel: "Very drunk middle-aged lady answering the call of nature in a very gross men's bathroom in Berlin. Except she wasn't using the toilet."

MJ: "How d'ya find this shit?" A certain word in that question had him biting his cheeks.

Abel: “Xavier was meeting a guy about a certain cursed artifact.” That last said in a whisper.

MJ: "Hope it wasn't her."

Abel: “God, no. She just happened to be there at the same time.”

MJ: "I think Peter needs a dangerous night with us. Soon."

Pete: "What does a dangerous night with the two of you entail?" Pete asked, squinting.

MJ: "Goin' wherever we want, take whatever we want. Robin Hood or Punisher."

Pete: "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. I'm sure the two of you don't want a wet blanket like me tagging along."

MJ: "What would a wet blanket do?"

Pete: "Request that you don't take whatever you want because...the law."

MJ: "Did ya forget ya dated a thief?"

Pete: "No, I didn't forget. I also never went with you, or I would've requested that you don't take whatever you want because the law."

MJ: "Just a paladin ya are."

Pete: "A what now?"

MJ: Peter was given a look.

Pete: "What?"

MJ: "Ya hang with druids... and don't know what word?"

Pete: "Can't remember hearing it from them. This something that I should add to my notebook?"

MJ: "I mean, I got it from a video game."

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Video games use real things all the time, they just don't know it. Maybe some do."

MJ: "Ya seriously never heard the word 'paladin'?"

Pete: He shook his head. "I don't think so, no. What does it mean?"

MJ: "Ya know, the heroic knight that doesn't budge from his noble cause!"

Pete: "Ah, so the modern-day wet blanket," he chuckled.

MJ: The smile MJ gave was private. Something for the two of them as they lagged behind.

"Ya just ain't punk anymore. That I see. Prove me wrong."

Pete: Pete snorted. "Was I ever punk? Doubt it."

MJ: "Of course ya were. Ya punched people out. Ya shouted. Ya locked me out the bar with fuckin' garlic. We made scenes in the bar with Budweiser n'lil umbrellas."

Pete: "Every single one of the people I punched had it coming." He smiled. "Locking you out with garlic counts as punk?"

MJ: "About the most punk bitch thing ya did to me."

Pete: Pete laughed. "I ever tell you Peabody sat me down and lectured me about how I handle trouble at the pub? I tell you, if he ever has kids, his dad voice is gonna be legendary."

MJ: "Didn't think he'd give a shit."

Pete: "Only when the people I punched went to tell on me."

MJ: "So what he say?"

Pete: "Don't break the tourists, use your words, did I wanna get sued, stop making paperwork for him."

MJ: "Fuckin' pussies," he muttered under his breath.

Pete: “Some people have no business drinking in public. Or even being in public.”

MJ: "Some people don't deserve the things they got. S'what I'm for," he smiled.

Pete: Pete chuckled. "The vampiric Robin Hood, dispensing karma to the arrogant."

MJ: "Goddamn right."

Pete: "What is your latest heroic act, Robin Hood?"

MJ: "Heroic?" MJ glanced to Abel.

Pete: Pete grinned. “Robin Hood was a hero, kinda. Depending on who you ask.”

MJ: "Still give t'Kenna. Gave to a uh, no-kill shelter. Well, Abe gave to em. Daylight hours."

Pete: “Both worthy causes,” he said with a nod.

MJ: "I don't even remember mentionin' her."

Pete/Abel: "It was a long, long time ago."

Abel, for his part, was busy grinning to himself and picking up any snacks that seemed interesting as they walked. This had been such a good idea, they were going to eat great. Not healthy at all, but great.

"Are we ready to check out?" he asked them. "Do we need anything at home?"

MJ: "Uh, nah. I don't need... anything." Still trying to remember his mention of his sister, as well as a sudden urge to extract that information from Peter. The not knowing suddenly mattered. Ah. Of course. He understood now.

"What I say about her?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Just that you had a sister and that her name was Kenna, like Callum's aunt. Nothing beyond that. You really don't remember?"

MJ: "Nah. My memory ain't that perfect. I remember every time we swam, though."

Pete: He ducked his head and smiled. "Yeah, I remember that, too. I'm an even better swimmer now. Good fisher too."

MJ: "Better fuckin' be. Ya got no excuses now," he smiled.

The cashier lady was someone new. Another little reminder of how long it had been since working here. Never again.

Cash was pulled from pocket, intent on paying for both.

Pete/Abel: Abel gently smacked MJ's hand away. "No no no, put that back where it came from. I got this."

Pete's hand would be given similar treatment when it ventured to reach for his wallet.

MJ: "The fuck ya smackin' me for? It all comes from the same place!"

Abel: "It's the principle!" He pulled out his shiny new credit card and put it in the chip reader before he could be stopped.

MJ: "Cards. Pfft." Abel's hair was given a rough tangling.

Abel: "Heyyyyy!" Abel tried and failed to squirm away. "X said we have to use it every now and then."

MJ: "S'how he keeps tabs on ya."

Abel: "He can do that anyway."

MJ: "The man doesn't put all his eggs in one basket."

Abel: "He has a zillion baskets. Thanks!" he added to the cashier, taking the card back and splitting the shopping bags between the three of them.

MJ: MJ looked into his appointed bag and frowned. "Food don't smell the same. Don't taste the same. I don't wanna look at gazpacho n'grilled cheese again. It'll be fucked."

Abel: Abel patted MJ’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let those get ruined for you.”

MJ: The vampire scoffed. "Least X don't like paella. Ain't had that fucked."

Abel: “Nope, he’s a fancy ham kinda guy. We’re not though! Where are we going to eat our feast of champions?”

MJ: "I know some docks we can borrow." Seemed too late at night for a certain someone to be awake.

Abel: “Cool. Think of the place, everyone grab an arm.”

MJ: MJ linked an arm with Peter's. He was warm tonight, as though recently fed.

What he had in mind was Callum MacGillivray's dock. Private enough, with the exception of a druid that might or might not be home. Might or might not be asleep. More besides, Peter could feel safe here, as a kind of home turf.

Pete: It didn't go unnoticed by Pete. For a brief moment, he forgot entirely that MJ was a vampire and attributed his warmth simply to him.

Letting MJ guide him, Abel transported them to what he'd initially thought was one of the docks by all the other docks, but this looked like someone liv--

"Callum's house?" Pete asked once they'd arrived and he managed to open his eyes.

MJ: "What he won't know what hurt him." MJ winked, heading out to the very edge of the dock.

Pete: Pete chuckled and shook his head. “He’s asleep anyway. Always goes to bed early when he’s working on an event.”

MJ: "What's the event now?"

Pete: "Some charity dinner thing."

MJ: Away with the black sneakers, removed with his feet as he walked, left behind as he reached the edge and took a seat.

"Some charity thing ya believe in?"

Pete: "I don't even remember what it is. I wanna say it was something school related? Or maybe book related?"

He joined MJ and began looking through the bags for his hot fries.

MJ: Away with the leather jacket. March be damned, he was preparing for a swim. Socks followed, tossed over his shoulder.

"They do that winter gala thing this year?"

Pete: "They did, yeah," Pete opened his bag of chips and took a handful. "It was a big hit as usual."

MJ: "They need, like, a summer cocktail party... thing."

Pete: "There's the fireworks and stuff for the Fourth of July."

MJ: "Not the same as a little black dress."

Abel: "A little black dress goes against the spirit of summer!" Abel said around a huge mouthful of rainbow sherbet.

MJ: "A red, white, n'blue dress with bitchin' heels."

Pete/Abel: "They can throw a beach party for the Fourth of July!"

"They kinda do," said Pete.

MJ: "I just got put into a suit. Chicago. I actually have a suit now."

Pete: Pete grinned. "Yeah? Can't picture you in a suit."

MJ: "Looks like I'm goin' to a funeral."

Abel: "It does not! Don't let him fool you, Pete." Abel gestured with his plastic spoon. "He looks all respectable like."

MJ: "I didn't even try! Just let X pick it out."

Abel: "You let the man with a closet full of fancy bespoke suits pick a suit for you." He gestured again. "You were going to look fancy and respectable no matter what."

MJ: "Still ready for a funeral. Didn't even wear the tie."

Away with the shirt, now.

Abel: "The tie makes you look like an investment banker," Abel giggled. "Or a hedge fund manager."

MJ: "Don't put that shit on me. Just cause I got money don't mean I gotta dress like the dead."

Abel: "Investment bankers and hedge fund managers are alive!"

MJ: "Not on the inside. Their blood is shit, too."

Pete: "Have you ever fed from one?" Pete asked.

MJ: "Just one. Before Edenton."

Pete: "And they tasted....bad?"

MJ: A nod. "He was also fat, and I couldn't find a vein for shit. She had to do it."

Abel: Abel took another enormous bite of ice cream. "Stick to the athletes, man. Gotta get your vitamins."

MJ: "Vitamins and veins." With that in mind, a backwards fall into the quiet water.

Pete: Pete glanced back toward the house, half expecting Callum to have sensed their presence and woken up.

There was no need for concern; the windows remained dark.

"How's the water?" he asked.

MJ: Dark hair had immediately matted in his face, curtained his eyes. "Good enough for a swim. For the dead. Dip a toe in."

Pete: "Eh, why not." Pete put his chips aside and set about taking his shoes off and rolling up his jeans.

This time of year the water was still fairly cold, but he didn't mind. He'd gone swimming in the dead of winter before.

MJ: "Fuck yeah. Hop in, Abe! I'll throw ya a stick!"

Abel: Abel stuck his hand in the water and pulled it out immediately. "It's freezing!"

MJ: "You're a dog!"

Abel: "Dogs still feel the cold!"

MJ: "Tell that to a Saint Bernard!"

Abel: "They're huge!"

MJ: MJ opened his mouth, ready for a dirty throwback before thinking better of it, sinking into the water instead.

Abel: Abel squinted. "I see your mind going in the gutter there," he called as MJ slipped beneath the surface. "I see it!"

MJ: A middle finger emerged from the depths.

Pete/Abel: “Wow, rude. And in front of Pete.” He leaned closer to Pete and whispered, “Do you think he can hear us down there?”

Pete chuckled and whispered back, “We probably sound a little muffled.”

MJ: MJ watched from below, sinking further to the bottom. The instinctual fear felt back in 2010 nothing but memory. A little unspoken merit to unlife he'd never seen in film, nor read in his favorite comics.

Abel: Abel squinted and moved closer to the water. "MJ, can you hear me?" he whisper yelled.

MJ: Nope. Just muffled of what he assumed was a conversation between them. He began to feel at the bottom, looking for anything Callum might have lost over the years.

Pete: There would be more than one interesting find beneath Callum's deck.

A travel mug that had been knocked off his sailboat when the water had been particularly choppy one day. A spoon he had dropped while enjoying his morning tea on the deck. And last but not least, a dog's collar and a whistle.

MJ: All of which collected no different than a man combing the beach for shells. The items were returned to the surface and brought other deck.

"Thought y'all were gettin' in; the fuck?"

Abel: "Pete is, I'm not," said Abel. "We were testing to see if you could hear us."

MJ: "Sounds like bein' underwater." The little trinkets were pushed further from the edge.

"Get the hell in here."

Pete/Abel: Pete would resume getting undressed, but Abel remained staunch in his refusal.

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I'm staying up here and eating my ice cream."

MJ: "Lemme have a lick." He kept going back despite flavors being nothing from memory. Thinking, maybe this time.

Pete/Abel: Abel scooped up some sherbet and offered MJ the spoon while Pete finally dove into the river.

MJ: Just a small taste. Something he could spit out without concern.

"Mm. Nope." River water could wash that out.

Now to find Peter and pull his leg. Literally.

Pete/Abel: "Aw. That makes me sad. I'll finish the whole pint in your honor."

Pete was floating on his back and looking up at the stars, feeling utterly peaceful until a certain someone came along and gave him a yank.

"Oy!" he laughed.

MJ: "What? What happened?" he laughed.

Pete: "I see you over there playing Jaws."

MJ: "What? We gotta lot in common." Hardly a current to take them. Hard to believe this attached to the ocean eventually.

"Race ya across."

Pete: "What does the winner get?"

MJ: "What does the loser want?"

Pete: "You tell me, all I can think about is food."

MJ: "What, lemme take a bite outta ya?"

Pete: "I meant I can't think of anything the winner or loser gets because all I can think about is food."

MJ: "Don't want a bite?"

Pete: “That would be a very intimate prize,” he said carefully.

MJ: "Can be. Could be. If you're so hungry, go back to the dock. I'll declare victory."

Pete: "And forfeit the race? Hell no."

MJ: "What's Abe doin'?" And he was off! Giving his full body towards the other side of the river. No need to breathe had its advantages.

Pete/Abel: "What--hey!" Laughing, Pete slipped beneath the surface and propelled himself forward. His lung capacity was better than it had been pre-bear but he still lost time coming up for air.

Abel sat on the deck and shook his head. "Not sportsman like."

MJ/Guildias: MJ and Peter were quicky becoming specks towards the other end of the wide river.

A new scent had been taken by the breeze. An ozonic, woody, softly musk cologne reached the docks seconds before the towering figure. Long healthy-looking hair, darker than the shadows, covered each shoulder. The man squatted next to Abel in proper form, cigarette between fingers. Arms straight on his knees.

"What the trickster do this time?" asked the stranger, voice silky, local, with a hint of German.

Abel: Abel paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth and slowly lowered it.

He scented something on the air a moment before he felt the new presence, and with no time to do anything about it, all he could do was startle.

"Noth--he's--uh, hi? Hi. We're not breaking and entering!"

Guildias: "That would require breaking and entering," he replied. "Of which you've not broken, nor entered."

Abel: "Right, yes. Hi. Again. It was MJ's idea to come here, I'm just the messenger. Or...teleporter."

Guildias: "A teleporter? He's come up in the world with friends."

He watched the two in the distance, the ever-learning and the ever-running. They seemed happy.

Abel: “Well I don’t know about that, but we are friends.”

Abel took a second to study the stranger. He smelled like MJ, so definitely a vampire. A tall one, if the length of his legs was anything to go by.

Talk about tall, dark, and handsome.

“So this is your house, huh?”

Guildias: "No. The person inside asleep is mine."

Another intake of cigarette, leaning himself an inch to Abel. "Still asleep.  No harm done."

Abel: "Yeah, Pete said he would be. So you must be Callum's boyfriend or...husssband?" He didn't want to presume.

Guildias: "I am a label, yes," he smiled politely.

Abel: "Not big on those?"

Guildias: "They mean everything and nothing."

Abel: "You're not wrong." He went back to his sherbet. The scent of the smoke reminded him of his dad, which in turn was making him more than a little nostalgic.

"I'm Abel by the way."

Guildias: "Hello, Abel." Two fingers to the chest. "Guildias."

Pete: "Nice to meet you! I'd offer you some of the mountain of junk food we got, but...you know."

Guildias: "I don't feel like cleaning a mess tonight."

Abel: "Is there anything you'd like to sniff? Which is a very weird question but there you go."

MJ/Guildias: "He's not your first, is he?"

MJ shook his head like a dog, splashing water over Peter in the process. Wiped his hand down his face.

"Fuck."

Pete/Abel: "MJ? He's the first one of you guys that I've been friends with, yeah."

Pete intended to come up to take a breath only to be immediately splashed with water.

"Hey!" he chuckled.

MJ/Guildias: "So, you're young?"

"He ain't been givin' ya trouble?" asked MJ, staring off in the direction of the docks. The new long dark figure.

Pete/Abel: "Technically I'm middle-aged, I just don't look it. Although I guess compared to someone like you I'm young."

Pete glanced back toward the docks and shook his head. "Nope, none. We're not bosom buddies or anything but we get along okay."

MJ/Guildias: "Some would consider me young." A small smile. "Young is relative."

MJ just stared for a moment. He could feel his old self, that place between distaste and envy. That man was gone, but his ghost still lingered.

"You're stronger now."

Pete/Abe;: "Yeah, I guess so. Sure you wouldn't like to sniff anything? Anything your person doesn't have in his pantry, I mean."

Another glance toward Guildias. Their relationship hadn't changed too much since Pete had returned from France, but he wasn't sure how much his being a fully bloomed werebear had to do with it.

"I am, but that's incidental. Not like I'm gonna fight him or anything."

MJ/Guildias: "I've learned long ago not to indulge. Jolly Ranchers and Bazooka gum were my sweets. Something to end this," the twirled cigarette. "Didn't pan out."

MJ arched a brow, allowed the pathetic current to pull him closer. "But ya could," he smiled.

Pete/Abel: Abel smiled at the cigarette. "At least it can't hurt you anymore. What brand are those?"

Pete just smiled and shook his head. "In theory. Only fight I've been in recently is with a raccoon."

MJ/Guildias: "Camel." A brand which he had not strayed since mortality. "Certainly disturbs my clothes, according to my person."

A raccoon? The image which conjured was of a great bear pawing at a small relentless jackass of an animal. An image which had him laughing openly at his own mind.

Pete/Abel: His expression softened. "I actually liked the smell of Camels. They're the kind my father used to smoke."

"Whatever you're imagining is probably close to exactly what happened." Pete frowned. "Little asshole stole my fish."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias looked to the man at his side, head barely moving with the effort.

The cigarette was offered.

"Oh my fuckin' god!" MJ lulled his body back to float, laughter rippling the water around him.

Pete/Abel: Abel accepted it but didn't take a drag. He just wafted the smoke and felt nostalgia slam into him like an asteroid.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, giving it back.

Only the echo of raucous laughter coming from the other side of the river could pull him back.

"Sounds like they're having a ball over there," he chuckled.

Meanwhile, Pete was grinning like a lunatic. "I almost wish I was joking."

MJ/Guildias: "MJ has that power over people." The cigarette was returned to his mouth. A long slow drag of what remained, before putting out the end on the bottom of the dock; many tiny burns scattered throughout the years.

"I wonder," MJ managed after a time, "ya know, raccoon people. Or like, snake people. Or somethin'."

Pete/Abel: Abel just grinned. "He sure does. He's a good guy."

"There are definitely snake people. Not sure if there are raccoon people but I wouldn't be surprised. I think the raccoon I fought was normal, though. A normal fish thief."

MJ: "My people." If MJ were to be anyone, other than kin to the late Miss Swiss.

"How ya know about snake people?"

Pete: "Gaetan told me about all the types of Fera he knows of. There are also shark people and gator people, which is fucking insane."

MJ: "Gator people, so like..." Give him a second to consider his words. "They're the oldest? I mean... sounds right."

Pete: "I...guess? Have gators been around longer than sharks?"

MJ: "Have bugs been around longer than sharks? Wait are bugs a thing?"

Pete: "Probablyyyy? I feel like bugs maybe came first, then sharks? Who knows, man."

MJ: "Wow. You're suddenly low on that totem pole."

Pete: "On the evolutionary scale, yeah. But I'm slightly higher than I was pre-bear."

MJ: "Slightly, like a mile behind?"

Pete: "It's not much, but it's something."

MJ: "Not much between a human and a Fera? Ya kiddin' me?"

Pete: "Again, evolution scale. You ever watch Cosmos?"

MJ: "What's that?"

Pete: "A docuseries about the universe and spacetime."

MJ: "And how's that about ya bein' a bear?"

Pete: "In the whole grand scheme of time and evolution, there's not that big a leap between Fera and humans. Fera are superior, but again, not by much when you consider the whole of existence."

MJ: "What lil I fuckin' know, didn't a god make ya?"

Pete: "I think so? Who really knows. How'd we get here?" he laughed.

MJ: "A raccoon got us here."

Pete: "Oh yeah. Thieving little asshole."

MJ: "N'ya want me to see ya? Like that?"

Pete: "Getting got by a raccoon?"

MJ: "Gettin' got by a raccoon. I'll have a talk with em."

Pete: He chuckled. "My hero. But yeah, I want to share that with you. Me being a bear, the whole full moon routine."

MJ: "How long we got 'til then?"

Pete: "A few days. Full moon is on the 9th."

MJ: "Right, right." Hadn't he asked already? He just wanted to hear Peter speak. He didn't want that swim back to Guildias and the interview he knew was coming. He belonged here as much as that snake. More, now.

"Who fuckin' won this shit?" The reason for being on the other side of the river.

Pete: "Pretty sure you did," said Pete, going back to floating. "All that having to breathe slowed me down."

MJ: "Should see what the sky looks like from the bottom of the ocean. Or Lake Michigan. Walked around Lake Michigan before I got here."

Pete: "Isn't Lake Michigan also like, freezing and windy and as choppy as the ocean?"

MJ: "Fuckin' huge." The river was a great excuse to gently bump into Peter's chest.

Pete: "Isn't it also full of wrecked ships and bodies?"

MJ: "Yep. Wish ya could see."

Pete: "I think I'd avoid the bodies if I had the ability to go down there without scuba gear."

MJ: "Didn't see one. Thought I saw ... somethin' outta Swamp Thing."

Pete: "Now that does not surprise me at all."

MJ: "N'you're in this river why?"

Pete: "There are no river monsters in it. I check every month."

MJ: "Nothin'? Not even a gator thing?"

Pete: "You start getting bigger fish and things once you get out into the sound, but the river proper only has the usual things in it."

MJ: "Man, ya really should see your old man."

Pete: "He hasn't found any river monsters either as far as I know. And believe me, he would've told me. He loves shit like that."

MJ: "Wrong old man."

Pete: "Oh. My old man is Pete Graham, Sr. The other guy is just a bear sperm donor."

MJ: "C'mon, man. I still stand by what I said."

Pete: "And I stand by what I said. I've already got a dad."

MJ: "That's only a portion of your life now. Gotta expand t'somethin' that's actually you."

Taking his own advice, he started back towards the shore.

Pete: "I guess." Although, he fully considered his life and his family something that was actually him. Being a bear hadn't changed that.

But they'd already had that discussion and he didn't want to rehash it.

He'd just swim alongside MJ.

Guildias: Guildias only rose to his feet with the first splash of droplets to his arm. Bowing his back long enough to offer his hand to Peter, all but lifting the Fera wholesale from the water.

Pete/Abel: Pete offered a smile in greeting, thanking Guildias as he helped--lifted--him out of the river. He didn't see that strength often but when he did, it always caught him off guard.

"So who won the race?" Abel asked.

"MJ did."

Guildias: "Are you a betting man?" Guildias asked Peter. "You could have won, had your opponent not been an athlete in his former life."

Pete/Abel: “I’m an athlete now,” he chuckled. “I just have to breathe.”

Abel nodded sagely. “Breathing will get you every time.”

MJ/Guildias: "I mean to say, you might have stood a chance against a one of those other clans."

MJ just laughed, arms folded over the dock, still floating at the current's mercy.

"I've seen a fat Rav."

Abel: “You have?” Abel’s face lit with interest. The whole clan thing was fascinating. “When?”

MJ: "With Simon. The step-sire...asshole."

Abel: Abel made a face. He didn't know much about MJ's step-sire, but what he did know was enough to make him dislike him.

"Ugh. What was the other Ravnos like? Could you beat him up?"

MJ: "Looked like an old Romanian biker with a gimp in his basement. Hell fuckin' no."

Abel: He threw his head back and laughed. "You could've taken him! You're squirrely!"

MJ: "The fuck ya just say to me?"

Abel: "You're squirrely! Wiley! Like the coyote, only more successful!"

Guildias: Peter was given a look from Guildias. This was your choice? The man threatening to pounce and "put the pup in his place", was it?

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't notice; he was too busy grinning and laughing at Abel and MJ.

Yes, this was absolutely his choice.

"It was a compliment!" Abel laughed, scooching out of grabbing range.

MJ/Guildias: "I'm going to kick you in and end all of this if you don't quiet down." A threat and promise which put a smile on MJ's face.

"I sure missed your broodin' face, Aloysius."

"Ah, there you are, Victoria."

Abel: Abel's brow furrowed. "Aloysius? I thought your name was Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: "First names and surnames."

"Can't you tell he's prior military?"

Abel: "All we talked about is junk food and being old."

MJ: "How can ya say that? You're practically a baby."

Abel: "Pfft, I'm older than everyone here except Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias simply smiled. "Seniority has its perks. I suppose you're not really in your thirties anymore. What was the Victorian age like?"

"I danced scandalously with your grandmother."

Abel: "Wasn't everything scandalous back then?" Abel set the ice cream aside in favor of some chips.

MJ: "Like ya wouldn't believe," scoffed MJ.

Abel: “Now nothing is scandalous. We’ve seen so many billboards for strip clubs on our road trip.”

MJ/Guildias: "Some things. Some circles. Even our circle."

MJ shook his head, splayed out over the dock to stare up at the stairs, fists to his forehead.

Guildias crouched once more, lower back leaned against the pillar.

Abel: "Not as...nitpicky though. Things that are scandalous now are actually scandalous and sometimes kinda fucked up. The Victorians wouldn't let people show ankles."

MJ/Guildias: "It was nuance. What else do ya show? Ya represent your family. No internet but way better magnifyin' glass."

"What do you recall?" Guildias watched the fledgling. Or was this now a neonate?

"Honestly?" Hands dropped to his stomach.

"Morocco. London. Matheus going by Frederick. New York."

Pete/Abel: Pete wasn't sure he liked this conversation, but that was more than likely lingering distaste for the woman that had assaulted him and thrown his best friend off a balcony.

He was as glad that MJ was okay as he was irked that she hadn't died completely.

"Who's Matheus?" Abel asked. He on the other hand, was fascinated.

MJ: "Mm - Victoria's partner. Ya hear them stories about Jack the Ripper? He was the detective on the case. Had visions of murders. Already insane before a Malkavian sunk their teeth in."

Abel: His eyes went wide. "Wait, did he know who it was?"

MJ: MJ smiled. A smile of a man with an answer. A smile that would not have been before the merge.

"History's got it wrong. All the assumptions."

Abel: "So it wasn't someone with medical training?"

MJ: Another smile. Two personalities with a love of secrets and mystery. There would be no budging.

Abel: "AH HA! I KNEW IT WAS SOME RANDO!"

MJ: "Stew in it, baby."

Abel: "I feel vindicated."

MJ: "I didn't say shit!"

Abel: "Ah, but you did!"

MJ: "Ya think I did."

Abel: "You totally did and you can't take it back now."

MJ/Guildias: "What ya think I did?"

"There's the old trickster," Guildias smiled to himself.

Abel: "You said history's got all the assumptions wrong, the most popular of which is that someone with medical knowledge killed those women. As such, people assumed it had to have been a doctor."

MJ: "Ya can think it's Lewis Carroll or a butcher. Ya won't be spot on."

Abel: “I don’t know who it was. My best guess is either some psycho or some supernatural psycho.”

MJ: "Human."

Abel: “Figures. It’s something a human psycho would do.”

MJ: "I'll let ya stew in it." Peter was given a wink.

Abel: “No stewing here!” Abel said cheerfully, going for some Goldfish. “Only vindication.”

MJ: "Tell Peter what happens to his missin' socks n'let him feel vindicated."

Pete/Abel: “Sock goblins,” Abel said to Pete.

“Sock...goblins?”

MJ: "There's more."

Pete: “More sock goblins?” Pete asked.

MJ: "More reasons!"

Pete: "What reasons do the sock goblins have?"

MJ: "Nanana. I mean more than sock goblins."

Pete: "Oh! There's more reasons socks disappear?"

MJ: "Yes! Lots of shit loves socks. It ain't you."

Pete: "Feels like it's me. So why do the goblins and other things steal socks?"

MJ: "Abe's the expert, not me."

Pete/Abel: "They don't steal--well, the goblins do," said Abel. "But sometimes there are portals and things like loose change and lost socks fall into them and disappear into the Umbra."

Pete blinked. "...Portals."

"Magic portals!"

MJ/Guildias: "Into the Umbra."

"That's too advanced for Peter," Guildias frowned.

"It ain't your call. He's a big ol' bear. Can learn what he wants."

Pete/Abel: Pete was looking at all of them with a furrowed brow. "So you're telling me...that the reason my socks disappear...is because they're stolen by goblins and sometimes fall into magic portals to the Umbra."

Abel nodded. "Yeah! Do you feel magic in your house?"

"Not really?"

"Then it's probably goblins."

MJ: MJ nodded sagely. There you have it.

"Heard about that one kid in Raleigh. Playin' hide-n-seek with his sister. Always hides in the dryer. One day they were playin', then he's just gone. Could be other shit, but what ya wanna bet he's on the other side?"

Pete: "So portals can just appear anywhere and take a whole child?!"

MJ: "Been on my mind. The kid. I think we can do somethin' about it. I wanna do somethin' about it."

Pete: "Is it possible to do something? Can people come back from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Why not? How rare is a one-way door? What ya wanna bet it ain't goblins givin' back socks."

Pete: Pete turned to Guildias. "Ever heard of someone going to the Umbra and coming back?"

Guildias: "You really want to know?"

Pete: "I'd like to have realistic expectations for finding this kid and whether or not he'd be okay when we found him."

Guildias: "Would you rather his parents bury an empty casket?"

Pete: "I'd rather his parents have him back, I just don't want to go in blind."

Guildias: "Blind is the Umbra, but not those within. The other side is more than a single realm. It's inconceivable... but penetrable. Especially to your people. So go the tales."

Pete: "So it's theoretically possible to go in, find this kid, and bring him home to his parents?"

Guildias: "I'm not going to say yes or no. It doesn't work that way."

Pete: "How does it work?"

Guildias: "Schrodinger's cat."

Pete: "Oh good," he sighed. "....Is it possible to get someone out of the Umbra from outside the Umbra?"

MJ/Guildias: "Can you pull something out water without touching it by any means?"

"What d'ya know, Abe?"

Abel: Abel answered for Pete. "Sure you can. With a fishing pole or a net or a scoop of some kind. I haven't ever looked into it, but that's where I'd lay my bets. Magical scoop. Or rather magic as a scoop."

Guildias: "'By any means'," the vampire chuckled. While normally disinterested in those outside of his circle, familiars were within the exception.

"If you're serious about your rescue operation, you should speak with Gertrude Draegan."

Pete/Abel: "Well now, there's a difference between touching the water or getting into the water and just getting wet. Nuance is key here."

Pete shook his head. "Absolutely I am not going to do that."

MJ: "I'll do it," said MJ. "I owe her a visit."

Pete: "Why does she have to be involved at all?"

MJ: "Manners. Gotta do that manners thing, babe."

Pete: "The manners thing can be done without bringing up our magical Umbra scooping venture."

Guildias: "Then the Malkavian?" Guildias suggested with two fingers.

Pete: Pete pointed at Abel. "We've got Abel, we're sorted as Callum says."

Guildias: "My knowledge is limited but not barren. If I don't assist, Callum will not be forgiving."

Pete: "You and Abel then. And Callum. Sorted."

Guildias: "Dawn, dusk, full moons and moonless nights are preferable. I'm not fireproof, and neither is that one. The sooner the better, if Schrodinger's cat has any chance."

Pete: “How long ago did the kid disappear?” Pete asked MJ.

MJ: "Two-ish days ago."

Pete/Abel: “How soon can you find a magical scoop?” he asked Abel.

“I won’t know until I get into it but I have a deep well to draw from.”

MJ/Guildias: "Let's get started, then. Humans got, what, a month before they starve? Less if he - does it matter on the other side? I've only seen people grab shit from it. Gertrude, actually."

"She operates on a different aspect, if you hadn't noticed."

Abel: "Time doesn't work the same way in the Umbra," said Abel. "It's a lot more fluid and abstract, but sooner is still definitely better."

MJ: "Mmkay." MJ got to his feet, snatched up his clothes. "Ya said Cal, both of ya. We addin' him?"

Pete: “Maybe?” said Pete. “He might know about some magic that could help. Or his cousin might.”

Guildias: "A party of five. How could this go wrong?" Guildias smirked.

Abel: Abel gestured with his spoon. “Positive thoughts, my guy.”

Guildias: "We'll best be a party of four; Callum's schedule is otherwise occupied."

Pete: “He’ll be upset if we don’t at least tell him about it. And I really think he might know something that could help,” Pete added.

Guildias: "Yes, but not to bring."

Pete/Abel: "All right, fair enough." That was really Callum's call but he'd let it be for now. They didn't even have anywhere to bring anyone yet.

Abel took another bite of ice cream and put the carton away. "We should get back. Scooby Dooby Do, we've got some work to do now."

MJ/Guildias: "That is perhaps the most untactful declaration of rescue I've ever heard."

MJ simply smiled. "I mean, he's a dog. That's like his thing."

Abel: “Hey! My declaration of rescue will be very tactful! This is my declaration of research.”

MJ/Guildias: "On that eccentric note, I will return. I know where to find you."

The tall Setite was saluted. A wink for good measure.

"Tomorrow night," MJ called to the back of Guildias' raised hand.

Abel: "It was nice to meet you!" Abel called after him, and interestingly enough, he meant it.

Once the three of them were alone again he said, "He seems nice for a vampire."

MJ: MJ looked over to Peter, raised a brow. "What ya think of that statement?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "He has his moments."

MJ: "We'll leave it there." Time to hop on his feet while lacing his shoes.

Abel: "I sense a story there but we'll leave that for another time." He paused for a beat. "Should we call X?"

MJ: "This gonna be a whole coterie thing, or just us? Already got that back there with us."

Abel: "Maybe not a whole coterie thing, but can you think of any other person who might know how to scoop someone out of the Umbra?"

MJ: "Peter done said no. Simon, maybe. More than maybe. The maybe is me. What ya wanna bet Cal knows some witches?"

Pete/Abel: "Peter is still firm on the demon front," Pete chimed in. "And yeah, I think Cal does."

Abel nodded. "All right, no X. Oh! What about Ramsay? He knows all kinds of shit."

MJ: "No X, no Cal, no Gertrude, no Matheus - your makin' that list short."

Pete: "Hey, Guildias said no Cal, not me. I think it's Cal's call but that's just me."

MJ: "I mean, if I told ya no I hope ya listen."

Pete: "It's been suggested that I'm dangerously reckless and stubborn."

MJ: "One of the worst. Cal takes the cake."

Pete: "He's Scottish, it's congenital."

MJ: "I mean, that's like sayin' I get a pass flirtin' for bein' Spanish."

Abel: "Are the Spanish known for flirting?" asked Abel.

MJ: "You're older than me. And lived a piss stream away."

Abel: "Bergen is more than a piss stream away from Spain."

MJ: "Closer than America." And this is how conversation went between the two of them. All across America and it was this. Some subject with bickering. Some subject with many tangents. It was a wonder they knew so much of each other.

Pete/Abel: Pete just couldn't help but smile at the pair of them and their banter. He imagined this is how people felt listening to him and Callum, witnessing that bond and seeing all the little signs that pointed at the hard as diamonds foundation of trust.

"Everything is close together if you measure by the America ruler," Abel said with a snort. "This country is ginormous."

MJ: "Ginormous and likes to keep everyone at umbrella length." He demonstrated with the item of mention, long and orange and just suddenly in his hand.

Pete/Abel: Abel laughed. "It's the American way!"

Pete didn't quite startle, but he did give a bit of a start. "Never gonna be used to how quickly you can magic things out of thin air."

MJ: "This ain't nothin'. Not anymore. Watch this shit," he commanded, promptly smacking Abel in the ass with the umbrella before it disappeared.

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed as Abel cried out a rather undignified "Ahhh!"

"You really are getting good. Of course, you were good before." He still remembered that snake on the bar in vivid detail.

MJ: "Only gets better. Don't ya have magic of your own?"

Pete: “It’s very nature oriented and I don’t have a lot of it, but yeah. I can suddenly keep plants alive without Cal.”

MJ: "Ain't he jealous," the Ravnos grinned.

Pete: "The opposite actually," Pete chuckled. "I am now trusted with the real versions of my nice fake plants. The cat safe ones anyway."

MJ: "No more glass roses, huh?"

Pete: "Those live on my bedside table."

MJ: "Still?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. "Still. Was thinking about making a little box or something for them. Midas does this thing where he knocks shit over when he wants attention and I don't want him to get my roses."

MJ: He had missed that smile. "Could talk to him, if ya want."

Pete: "That's riiiiiight, I forgot you could do that! Would you? I really don't want him to break them."

MJ: "I ain't gonna bark orders." Although he could. "We'll negotiate."

Pete: "He can be bribed with salmon and chicken."

MJ: "What's his opinion of dogs?"

Pete: "Depends on the dog. He likes the really big fluffy ones that just kinda lay around because then he can sleep on them. Smaller dogs are judged on a case by case basis."

MJ: "We headin' back? I got an idea. All mafioso."

Pete: "Yeah, sure. Is the mafioso idea for convincing Midas not to break my sentimental things or for rescuing the kid from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Cat first, kid tomorrow night."

Pete/Abel: "Does it involve Abel?"

"Yeah, does it involve me?" Abel asked. "I wanna make a good impression on Midas."

MJ: "You'll see." One more vigorous shake of his head, fingers combed through the wet mess of black.

Abel: "We need to towel off your hair." Abel gathered up all their snacks. "Ready to go, boys?"

MJ: "Ain't gonna catch a cold." So often did he forget Abel's age until he said something like that. Then it was just glaring.

"Yep."

Abel: "No but you might get frost in your hair. Are we going to the RV or to Pete's house?"

MJ: "Pete's." He looked to the sky, though. "When ya usually go t'bed?"

Pete/Abel: "Varies," said Pete. "You know me, I'm on the pub owner sleep schedule. We're all good."

"Good!" Abel adjusted the bags on one arm and held out a hand to each of them. "Now Pete, I need you to visualize your house so I can take us there."

MJ: "It's March, man. We can walk." But still he took that hand, if only to straighten himself.

Pete/Abel: "This is faster! Why walk when you can teleport?"

"Hard to argue with that," said Pete, taking Abel's hand and forming as clear an image of his house as he could in his mind.

MJ: The vampire had stirred somewhere between sixty years ago and something about a book. Had he heard correctly? Probably distracted by the little creature on his chest. A comfort if there ever was one. A blessing. One of if not the best reason to have been dragged back into this house.

"Lenore ... or Lucrecia?" No breath, no stretch or twitch, no groan. Just a dead body with something to say.

Xavier/Abel/Little Woman: Three very different reactions followed MJ's waking declaration:

Abel yelped in surprise, Little Woman squeaked in delight, and Xavier sighed in relief.

Their wait was over.

"Lenore," said Xavier, smiling at MJ. "You're awake."

MJ: "Knew a Lenore. Don't know where."

He didn't bother to open his eyes. He knew whatever light was in the room was going to be excruciating just by what managed to penetrate his eyelids.

Instead, he reached for Little Woman for scritches. "Better not be nibblin' my shirt."

Xavier/Abel/Little Woman: The only sources of light were the lamp Xavier was reading by and another on the bedside table. The room's only window had been blocked with a wooden board and covered with a heavy blackout curtain.

Little Woman was chittering away, greeting her owner and telling him everything that had transpired in the past few days.

"She's been collecting things for you," said Abel. On the bedside table there was a small pile of coins, buttons, and pretty rocks Little Woman had deemed worthy.

MJ: "Course she has." He offered his finger for inspection.

Everything ached like hell. He had questions, but at the same time... nah.

Well, maybe one.

"Where's Ro?"

Xavier/Abel/Little Woman: And inspect she would. He was different. He smelled different, but he also smelled the same.

She nuzzled into his neck. He passed.

Abel and Xavier exchanged looks.

"He's sitting on the stairs," said Xavier. "Should we fetch him?"

MJ: "Where ya fetchin' him to?"

There was that hunger. Worse than that lump in his throat he couldn't swallow. His teeth ached. His stomach felt empty. He needed to feed.

Xavier: "To you, if you'd like to see him."

In the corner of the room there was a mini refrigerator fully stocked with fresh blood for MJ. The finest and healthiest that could be found.

MJ: "Fuckin' - What room is this?" He'd yet to open his eyes.

Xavier: "We're in a room in the attic."

MJ: Finally, one eye attempted - immediately shut. That burned like hell. He stabbed at his eyes with thumb and index finger, rubbing furiously to remove whatever was causing the burn.

He tried again, locking eyes with Little Woman to catch up on the news of the house.

"This a room, or a cage?"

Xavier: "A warded room," said Xavier. Outfitted with every comfort he could think of for his friend.

MJ: "How long am I on lockdown?"

Xavier: "Until we saw how you felt when you woke. Are you hungry?"

MJ: His response was a small, famished growl. He could smell his fancy rat, the familiar, and that delicious demonic blood.

"Needy."

Xavier: "There's a stocked refrigerator for you in the corner, and we have more downstairs if you don't get your fill. Would you like us to leave while you eat?"

MJ: "Can't I just eat you?" He smirked in the direction of Xavier's voice.

Xavier/Abel: "You couldn't handle me." MJ would be able to hear the smile in his voice.

He stood and gestured to Abel. "Come, let's leave MJ to his meal."

"Want Little Woman to stay with you?" Abel asked MJ.

MJ: "She's safe." So long as he could make his way to that fridge. "Come back in ten minutes, X."

Xavier/Abel: “Very well. Don’t get up. Abel, can you get that lamp?” he added, pointing at the lamp on the bedside table.

While Abel turned off the lamp closest to MJ, Xavier arranged several of the blood bags on a platter and brought it to the bedside table.

MJ: "Ro alright?" Whispered once Xavier was within arm's reach.

Xavier: "He's fine," Xavier whispered back. "Just worried about you."

MJ: "I don't like bein' told I can't leave."

Xavier: "I know. And I apologize for quite literally backing you into a corner. You're my friend, and I'm so sorry."

MJ: "Wish I could say m'sorry for throwin' salt in your face."

The bag was brought to his mouth. The eyes which looked up at the demon were... familiar, but not. The same chaotic moss and warm hazel, yet foreign. The greens were richer, the yellowish brown brighter, vibrant even in the dark, like a faint glow.

Xavier: Xavier gave MJ a soft smile. "I deserved it. I'm lucky you didn't have any holy water on you."

Rather like the little treasure guardian, Xavier was beginning to get the sensation that MJ felt different, but also....not.

He sounded like himself, smelled like himself, but there was something there that hadn't been there before.

MJ: "Ya know, I've crashed my RV twice now. Had it burned crisp by my step-sire, lost a tire on the fucker... I think my RV needs a paint job."

The first bag was finished.

"Fuck the ten minutes. Sit back down."

Xavier: "Oh, it's going to get a lot more than that."

Xavier sat with another smile. "With your permission, I'd like to have it repaired and cleaned for you."

MJ: "Repaired, painted, but the guts are mine. I know where everything is." Still very much a man of chaotic order.

Xavier: "By all means," he said with a nod. "It'll look like it just came off the showroom floor."

MJ: "A totally not inconspicuous orange." The second bag was nearly emptied. It was set aside. Little Woman was cupped in hand and brought to eye level.

"Tell me 'bout Rohan, lil thing."

Xavier/Little Woman: Xavier chuckled. "Whatever you'd like. We'll have it glow in the dark if that's what you wish."

The treasure guardian put her little hands on MJ's face, inspecting him closer. Oh, the witch was very worried, very worried indeed. He came in every night and left to sit on the stairs at dawn. He held MJ's hand and kissed his forehead and whispered things only he could hear.

MJ: "So messy," he said to his little rat. He offered his finger again. "Just get it over and done with, huh?" He needed guidance, and she was the only word he would trust.

Little Woman: There was much love with the worry. More love within the ward. Love from the demon and the dog and the maids and the druid and the little boy.

Love was a treasure, love must be kept.

MJ: "You have a soft little heart."

MJ stared at the ceiling, drifting off with contemplation.

"Bring him in, I guess. Ya need t'stay, too."

Xavier/Little Woman: She did, for him most of all. He was just as much a part of her treasure as the coins and buttons.

“Are you certain?” Xavier asked. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”

MJ: "X, go get him."

Xavier/Rohan: "As you wish." Xavier got to his feet and left the room.

As has become his custom, Rohan was waiting on the attic stairs.

"Abel said he's awake," he said as soon as Xavier was in his line of sight.

Xavier nodded. "He is. He's asking for you. Come."

Rohan was up before the demon had even finished speaking, eager to see his vampire.

MJ: MJ had managed to pull himself upright before their return. The room was dimly lit on all corners by warm lamp-like light encased in domes. The walls were painted in Rohan's favorite color. A sweet, apologetic scent of sugar and cardamom.

Xavier/Rohan: MJ's magic truly was a thing to behold. Xavier couldn't help but feel proud as he looked around at the drastically different room.

Despite the tiredness etched into every line of his face, Rohan was flooded with relief as he saw MJ awake and alive.

"Hey," he said with a soft smile. "How do you feel?"

MJ: "Hey yourself. Heard ya get sick, 'fore..."

MJ spread his hands and gestured over his chest. Little Woman had been placed on his shoulder. The only angel to whisper in his ear.

Xavier/Rohan: "It was nothing. I'm fine now." Colleen had looked after him and he'd been back on his feet in no time.

While Rohan joined MJ on the bed, Xavier ducked his head to give them some semblance of privacy. MJ had yet to tell him to leave so he would just stay by the door.

MJ: "Good, good."

MJ looked between them. His thumb slid across his bottom lip as he thought traded for his middle finger and traced again. Not a usual habit.

"We should talk about the elephant in the room."

Xavier/Rohan: No...it wasn't a usual habit, Xavier thought. Another minute difference, another niggling curiosity.

"Which elephant is that?" Rohan asked quietly.

MJ: "Victoria. We can say her name. She's not Tom Riddle."

Xavier: "Who's Tom Riddle?" Xavier asked.

MJ: "You're a muggle."

Xavier/Abel: "A what?"

"IT'S A HARRY POTTER THING!" Abel shouted from somewhere else in the attic.

MJ: "The fuck you hidin'?" MJ shouted.

Xavier/Abel: "I FOUND A CHEST OF BONES!"

"Those are for rituals, Abel," Xavier called back.

MJ: "Eat one!"

Xavier/Abel: "WHAT KINDA BONES ARE THEY?"

Xavier had to think about that for a moment. "....Horse? Possibly raccoon."

They would all hear a soft 'ew' and the shuffling of more items.

MJ: MJ just smiled towards the darkness beyond the doorway.

Xavier: Xavier shook his head fondly.

"So," he began. "Your Tom Riddle."

MJ: "You're, you mean," the vampire nodded.

Xavier: "I'm sorry?"

MJ: "You're as in 'you are'."

Xavier/Rohan: "....You are Tom Riddle?"

Rohan was frowning. "I don't understand."

MJ: "Ya can't both - both be serious."

Xavier/Rohan: It hit Xavier before it hit Rohan, and MJ would be able to see it in his face.

That was why MJ smelled off. Why he was displaying mannerisms Xavier had never seen before.

He wasn't just MJ anymore.

"You finally melded," he said, suddenly fascinated. "That's what happened before you collapsed." When his eye color had switched back and forth.

MJ: MJ said nothing towards Xavier's epiphany. Rather, he waited for Rohan to catch up.

Xavier/Rohan: Rohan was staring at MJ, but not directly. He seemed to be staring at the space around him, at something only he could see.

His aura was different. No longer lit up in its patriotic red, white, and blue. There were other colors now. Her colors.

"Rohan?" Xavier prompted softly.

"There's one aura."

MJ: "I should thank you both, and Abel, for gettin' it over n'done with."

Little Woman was given a gentle stroke from the top of her head down her spine. "Shoulda been done from the get-go."

Abel: Abel poked his head in again, squinting as he studied MJ for a moment.

“How do you feel? Do you feel like you? Or do you feel like her?”

MJ: "I'm not either...n'I'm both. I dunno how t'explain it. Abel, have ya ever been in two places at once?"

Abel: He nodded. “Yep. This one time when I was hanging out with these really intense dudes from Stockholm who were into astral projection. Felt like I was tripping on something.”

MJ: "Ya split yourself a bit, but ya were still you, right?"

Abel: "Yeah, exactly. I felt like I was like...I don't know. Like I'm me 100%, right? When I was doing that, I felt like 200% me. But I was just me, I didn't have someone else in my head sharing space. How do you feel percent wise? Even split?"

MJ: "There's no sharin'. I guess it's not the same. M'not Victoria, I don't think. M'not really Mayhew, either."

Xavier: "Can you hear her like you could before?" Xavier asked. "Or is the separation between you and her simply gone?"

MJ: "I am-" he sighed. "It's gone. It's a... we, that's an I."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. "You did it."

MJ: Before he could question Xavier's elation, eyes once more fell to Rohan. His hands remained at his side. No effort placed in a physical connection. But still, he said, "Ro?"

Rohan: Rohan offered MJ a small smile. He didn't quite know how he felt. So many months of wanting to get Victoria out and trying to find a way to accomplish it and now...

"Do you feel comfortable, mentally? Do you feel better or worse or?"

MJ: "Still tryin' to understand the lingo for expressin' myself. I feel... like everything's quieter. No more hollerin'. M'not... mad. Ya'd think I would be, right? But m'not."

Rohan: He nodded and held out a hand. "I'm glad. I want you to have peace so badly. You've had enough unrest in your mind to last ten lifetimes."

MJ: "I guess." He looked to that hand, and then to Xavier.

"Can ya now gimmie them ten minutes, X?"

Xavier/Abel: "Of course."

Xavier excused himself, this time making sure he took Abel with him. They wouldn't wait in the attic, they would wait downstairs.

MJ: MJ waited until the sound of expensive shoes faded to a reasonable distance. Little Woman was placed beside her pile of treasure.

"How are ya feelin'?"

Rohan: "This is a lot to process. I'm sure it is for you, too. But I really am so glad and so relieved that you finally have some quiet in your head. Something more permanent than my magic could give you."

MJ: "I've had days t'think about it. Y'all haven't. I get it."

Rohan: Rohan took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, puiule. I can't imagine this is meant to be a gentle process but I know the way I acted a week ago didn't help. I made you feel trapped and I upset you and I am so, so sorry."

MJ: "How exactly d'ya think ya did that?"

Rohan: "I chased you down the road in Xavier's car. I kept pushing when you told me to stop. I didn't respect your wishes and the only explanation I can give is that I love you beyond anything and I was so afraid to lose you."

MJ: "Ro...han..." Hesitantly, he took the proffered hand. "I don't... know how else t'say what m'gonna say. So m'just gonna say it, okay? The man ya loved... I don't think m'that anymore. M'not Mayhew. Okay? Not really. N'm'not Victoria, anymore. I don't... understand... why ya loved him as much as ya did, t'put yourself through all that bullshit."

Rohan: MJ referring to himself as Mayhew felt just as, if not more, foreign that MJ referring to him as Rohan. It only made everything else MJ was saying that much harder to hear.

"You are still you. Even if Victoria is now melded with you, you haven't stopped being yourself. I know you don't understand why I love you but I do, and I'm not going to walk away from you because of a few rough patches."

MJ: "A few rough patches?"

Rohan: "All the 'bullshit' as you call it."

MJ: "No, I'm just thrown that you just see it like - Ya chased me in a stolen car."

Rohan: "Borrowed, and at the risk of sounding clingy, I'd do it again."

MJ: "But, check it, Rohan, I don't want ya doin' that anymore. That ain't the first time runnin' away."

Rohan: "It was precisely because it wasn't the first time that I lost my head. What am I doing wrong, MJ? Why do you feel like you need to run from me?"

MJ: "I have shit I need to figure out, okay? I wanna do... whatever this is now, I wanna do it with a clean slate. Okay?"

Rohan: Rohan nodded. "Okay. Clean slate. What does that mean for you?"

MJ: "It means," the new MJ swallowed, "means I wanna start with just bein' friends again. Just... friends."

Rohan: He took a deep breath. It was a reasonable request. Probably necessary under the circumstances; they didn't quite know what had happened and it would be reckless to just assume things would go on as usual.

He just wished it didn't hurt.

"All right. Friends."

MJ: "Yeah? I mean it. Friends. Not strangers." He was aware this would hurt. As much as he was aware it was going to hurt Peter, too. Both men deserved an explanation and a new beginning.

Rohan: "Friends," he repeated, smile not quite reaching his eyes. "If we're going to be friends, there's just one request that I'd like to make."

MJ: "What's that?"

Rohan: "If you ever have shit you need to figure out or need a change of scene or anything that involves leaving for a while, please just tell me. Don't say cryptic things and climb out the window."

MJ: That made him smile. "Yeah. No more climbin' outta windows. I promise. Okay?"

Rohan: At least one of them was feeling levity.

"Thank you. Just use the door, I won't hold it against you."

MJ: This new mind could only handle so much, but it recognized the melancholy in Rohan's eyes.

"Hey... I'm sorry."

Rohan: "It's fine, pu--MJ. I'm fine."

MJ: "Don't lie to me."

Rohan: "I'll live," he said with another not-quite-smile. "And more importantly, so will you. That's what matters."

MJ: "I will. You both did this. I needed the kick in the ass."

Rohan: "It seems like something too violent and unpleasant to be celebrated."

MJ: "But it's over."

Rohan: "Yes, it is. And that part does deserve to be celebrated."

MJ: "Are ya hungry? I heard you've been by the bed nonstop. When ya eat last?"

Rohan: "Early this morning. Christine poached me an egg."

MJ: "Just one egg?"

Rohan: "And coffee and toast. Usual breakfast things."

MJ: "Let's get you somethin' to eat."

Rohan: "It's about dinner time. I think Xavier requested some sort of roast."

MJ: "Of course he would." Time to get to his feet, then. Both of them. "Let's get some food in ya."

Rohan: "Are you sure you don't want to rest? I can ask one of the maids to bring me a plate."

MJ: "I've slept for days." But he was looking Rohan up and down. "Do you want to just stay here?"

Rohan: “If you’re okay to go down, let’s go down. Everyone will be glad to see you up and about.”

MJ: "Okay." Rohan was gently pushed forward with a smile.

Rohan/Devlin: Rohan did his best to return MJ's smile before leading the way downstairs.

Xavier, Devlin, Colleen, and Abel were already in the dining room being served their first course, a strawberry and spinach salad. The moment Devlin spotted MJ he scrambled off his booster seat and barreled toward him.

"Uncle Aquaman, Uncle Aquaman!"

MJ: "That is a mouthful!" MJ laughed. On bent knee, he held his arms out to catch the little man. Pulled to his chest in a mighty (albeit gentle) squeeze.

"I was gone for days! I missed ya!"

Devlin: The little boy was the spitting image of his mother in every way except for his eyes and the color of his hair. Those were all Xavier.

He squeezed MJ with all his might. "I missed you, too! Daddy said you were sick." He pulled back and took MJ's face in his little hands. "Are you all better? Do you wanna see my frog?" he added in a whisper.

MJ: "I'm good. Be proud of me, I conquered the flu like a champ." His smile widened. Returning the whisper, he said, "I wanna see your little zoo."

Devlin: Devlin was very impressed even if he didn't know what the flu was. "Good job!"

He looked toward Colleen and his Daddy, who were both concentrating very hard on their salad and pretending they couldn't hear any whispers. "It's a secret, okay? You can't tell Daddy."

MJ: Devlin was given his hand, his smile absolutely impish.

"He don't know shit. Show me!"

Xavier/Devlin: Devlin gasped while Colleen's eyes went wide and Xavier cleared his throat. Uncle Aquaman said a bad word!

"You're gonna get in trouble!" he giggled, taking MJ's hand and leading him away.

"Don't be too long, Devy," Xavier called after them. "You have to eat the spinach in that salad too, not just the strawberries!"

"Okay, Daddy." Devlin shook his head at MJ as they moved toward the stairs. He had no plans to eat the spinach.

MJ: MJ shook his head too. Yeah, I wouldn't eat the evil spinach, either.

"Has your daddy been okay while I've been gone?"

Devlin: "He took lots of books to the little room."

MJ: "He's always doin' that." You're terrible with intel, little man. "Were ya good while I was gone?"

Devlin: "I heard him talking to Uncle Abel. He wanted to make you better while you were sleeping." Rather than turn right at the top of the stairs toward Devlin's room, they turned left. Toward MJ's.

"Uh-huh!"

MJ: "Where are we goin'?"

Devlin: "Your room!" Devlin said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

MJ: "But why are we goin' t'my room?"

Devlin: "That's where my frog is, silly!"

More specifically, the frog was in what appeared to be a casserole dish filled with moss, twigs, rocks, and pond water on one of MJ's bedside tables.

MJ: Whhhhy. But then, remembering his own childhood, of course. Little children logic. He probably thought he was being clever.

"That's a pretty chill frog ya got there."

Devlin: "I found him at the pond! One of his legs didn't work so I took him. It's better, see?" Devlin pointed at one of the frog's legs, which had--of all things--a unicorn bandaid on it.

MJ: "Right. Good job." And this would have to go to someone else, because he had no idea if that was even safe for the frog, and Devlin didn't need to walk in here to find a dead creature he'd tried to rescue.

"What cha feedin' him?"

Devlin: Devlin beamed with pride. "Crickets and worms and flies from the garden. Only the little worms though. He doesn't like the big ones."

MJ: "The little flies shouting, 'Help me! Help me! Oh nooooo!'" he squeaked. "Delicious!"

Devlin: He giggled. “Flies are his favorite!”

MJ: "I bet! What's his name?"

Devlin: “Bert!”

MJ: "How ya figure he's a Bert?"

Devlin: “He looks like Bert.”

MJ: "Well, ya look like a Jim."

Devlin: “You look like a Bob!” Devlin giggled.

MJ: "A Bob?!" Such disgust!

Devlin: He giggled some more. "Yeah a Bob! You're Uncle Bob!"

MJ: "Uncle Bob!" As though he couldn't get over it. He made a grab for the boy, administering a vicious tickle attack. "How dare ya, Jim!"

Devlin: The peal of scream-laughter reached all the way to the dining room, making everyone inside smile. "Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob, uncle Bob!"

MJ: "Jim! Why ya yellin', Jim?!"

Devlin: The only response was more laughter and a half-hearted attempt to wiggle out of his uncle's grasp. Devlin was having the time of his life.

MJ: The little boy was scooped into his arms and hung upside down. "Come on, Jim. Let's go find your daddy."

Xavier/Devlin: The raucous laughter would continue all the way to where they'd left Devlin's daddy. The excellent roast Christine had made had just been served.

"There they are," Xavier said when they entered. "Who's Jim?"

MJ: "He's. Jim. This in Jim, and I'm - Who am I?" Just to include the boy.

Xavier/Devlin: "Uncle Bob!" Devlin cried in giggly delight.

"Well, you and Uncle Bob need to come to the table and I believe there's some spinach that needs to be eaten."

Devlin made a face. "It's crunchy!"

"Crunchy spinach is still good, it's just raw."

"I don't like raw."

MJ: "It's evil raw." The man that did not eat real food except to fake it in public was of no help whatsoever. But he would turn the boy to rights and back to his chair.

Xavier/Devlin/Hamilton: Xavier gave MJ a look. You're not helping, Aquaman. "Will you eat it if Christine steams it for you?"

"Yeah!"

"Very well. Hamilton?"

The butler appeared to take what remained of Devlin's salad. "Shall I have her add it to his dinner plate, my lord?"

"Yes, perfect."

MJ: "S'like mixin' a vitamin with peanut butter, ya know?" Mix that spinach with the roast and he'd have no choice. Hamilton was given a once over. That same scrutiny was given to the rest. Should he even sit?

"Make sure Rohan finishes his plate, too," he smirked.

Xavier/Rohan: Of course he should sit. Rohan had already gotten to his feet to pull a chair out for him.

"He does fine with cooked spinach. I suspect it's a very specific texture issue." Xavier smiled at Rohan. "You heard, MJ, Rohan. We expect to see a clean plate."

"I could probably clean two."

MJ: "Good. No more just sittin' 'round."

The Ravnos cleared his throat, forced himself to sit. This wouldn't last long, but he was willing for the time being. Time being, probably about three minutes to supervise Rohan actually taking a bite.

Rohan/Devlin/Colleen: Rohan would, and so would Devlin once Hamilton returned with his steamed spinach and the rest of his dinner.

"How are you feelin'?" asked Colleen.

MJ: "M'alright. M'a vampire, so really y'all don't have t'worry that much, guys."

Abel/Colleen: "Believe me, the worryin' has nothin' to do with you bein'a vampire."

"It's because we love you!" Abel said around a bite of roast.

MJ: "Y'all are crazy," but he smiled anyway. "I wanna see ya after dinner, Abel, so don't go runnin' off."

Abel: "Yeah, crazy about you!" He took another enormous bite. "'Kay. Am I in trouble?"

MJ: "Totally. Gonna be strug up. We'll take turns with a riding crop. It's a whole thing." Riding crop as opposed to whip due to present company, but dammit he wanted to make his joke.

Xavier: Xavier delicately cleared his throat as he sipped his wine, giving the pair of them a look. Fortunately, Devlin was busy singing to himself about the salt and pepper shakers.

MJ: "Fine, fine. Ya can take first turn, Sulfur Boy."

Xavier/Abel: "Charming," Xavier said with a dry chuckle.

Meanwhile, Abel had pressing questions. "Is there a secret meeting place? Do I need a password? Quick, think it at me!"

MJ: "What? I think it wouldn't be a secret with your demon over there."

Abel: “Nah, that’s only if I think something at him. If someone else thinks something at me he can’t tell. Same goes for him.”

MJ: "Don't y'all get a headache?"

Abel: Abel shook his head. “Not from talking. Get tired if I do too many things that require too much energy too close together though.”

MJ: "What's too much?"

Abel: “Like....traveling long distances or doing complicated spells.”

MJ: "I wanna see."

Abel: "You wanna see me tire myself out?"

MJ: "N'tire me out, too."

Abel: "We can do laps across the country."

MJ: "How bout spells in the backyard."

Abel: "We can totally do that."

MJ: "Eat up, then."

Abel: There was no way MJ wanted to see him just for magic. They could do that any time. This was something else, something secret that MJ didn't want to say in front of everyone.

Ever the curious pup, he rushed through the rest of his dinner.

MJ: MJ just smiled and leaned back in his seat. Hands rested behind his head. This wasn't the first time sitting with nothing to do at a table with functioning stomachs. Some nights he would participate, regardless of unsavory results.

But tonight was reflection, and studying each face seconds at a time.

Xavier/Rohan/Abel: In stark contrast to Abel who was scarfing down his dinner as quickly as he could, Rohan was eating slowly and silently, eyes scarcely leaving his plate.

Xavier and Colleen discussed the day's activities while Devlin occasionally chimed in and cheerfully ate his cooked spinach.

As for Hamilton, he had brought MJ a stainless-steel tumbler filled with the contents of a blood bag, so he could eat something while he waited for Abel.

MJ: Hamilton was given a wink. As candid as ever, though perhaps lacking a trace of lust. A playful acknowledgement for a fond servant. Any chance to make the butler blush would be taken.

Abel/Hamilton: And there it was, right on cue. Thankfully, Abel was there to distract before Hamilton's blush got too dark.

"What's for dessert?" he asked the second his plate was clean.

"Colleen has prepared raspberry mousse cake."

Abel made a face. Raspberry mousse was far from his favorite, which meant it could be skipped. "Ready for magic, MJ?"

MJ: "Let's leave dessert t'people that actually like raspberries." MJ stretched and tucked his chair away. The bloodstained tumbler was held to his chest.

"Thanks for the AB positive. Like a fine wine."

'Time t'show me some magic, pup.'

Xavier/Abel/Hamilton: Hamilton smiled and inclined his head. "Of course, Mr. Calloway."

Abel damn near jumped out of his seat in his rush to get to the door. 'Let's go!'

"As an Englishman I'm offended at both of you," Xavier called after them.

MJ: "As an American, I'm proud." MJ waved behind himself and followed after the familiar.

Abel: 'So why did you really wanna see me?' Abel thought to MJ as he led the way through the kitchen and out the service entrance to the garden.

MJ: "There's no ulterior motive here, my man," MJ said aloud. "I just wanna understand where I'm at n'maybe understand ya better, too."

Abel: "Understand me? Am I mystery?" Should they...yeah, better to head to the woods.

MJ: "All familiars are enigmas wrapped in fur."

Abel: "I have zero mystique. I just put it all out there." He was a dog, after all.

MJ: "Alright. What can hurt ya?"

Abel: "Pretty much the same things that can hurt everyone else. Except age, to a degree."

MJ: "So a gunshot t'the heart n'you're out?"

Abel: "Unless I use a spell to protect myself or something, yeah."

MJ: "How fast could ya make a spell 'fore it hits ya?"

Abel: "Probably not fast enough. It would have to be a preemptive kinda deal."

MJ: "So what would you do with a bullet comin' for ya?"

Abel: "I dunno, probably try to dodge and change into my dog form."

MJ: "Alright. Let's throw somethin' at ya, then."

Abel: Abel squinted at MJ. “You’re not gonna shoot me, are you?”

MJ: "I mean, I could." The vampire pulled a brand new gun from his back pocket.

Abel: Abel's eyes went wide. Not with fear, however; with excitement. "Dude, no way! Did you just magic that up right now?!"

MJ: The Ravnos smiled. "You know me so well, Abe."

Abel: "Magic recognizes magic, man. Well, usually."

MJ: "Ya make this shit difficult. So much easier t'freak a human out. Or fae, as it turns out. I think? Only met one." He paused. "I think."

Abel: "You met a Fae?" That wasn't Colleen and most definitely Rohan? "When?"

MJ: "That - That woman X tossed into the castle with that spider."

Abel: Oh, okay. He hadn't realized about Rohan yet. Was that a good thing or a bad one?

"Oh yeah her. Sounds awful but I'm not all that sorry she's dead. Imagine having a kid just to use them."

MJ: "I dunno what punishment equals what crime anymore. I guess m'startin' t'not care. Got t'talk t'her some. Spider had me figured out pretty quick."

Abel: "As far as punishments Xavier could've come up with, I feel like that was on the tame side."

Abel stretched. "Fera are perceptive. Moreso than almost everything and everyone else."

MJ: "Is a spider really a Fera? Feels like it shoulda been called somethin' else. Hellspawn."

Abel: "Dude. Trust me, a spider is nothing. You wanna talk about hellspawn, there are were-snakes and were-sharks and were-crocodiles."

MJ: "What makes ya shit your pants most?"

Abel: “You ever see The Fly?”

MJ: "So, bugs." The pistol, an imitation from memory of a .44 magnum, was aimed at Abel's head.

Abel: Jesus, fake or not that was scary as fuck. He was just gonna move around a bit.

"Nah nah nah, not bugs. Experiments gone horribly, terribly wrong."

MJ: Good practice for aiming. Keep dodging.

"I always wondered if ya were an experiment gone wrong."

Abel: “Because I’m a familiar?”

MJ: "Ya ain't like any familiar I know. Short list, but ya just seem different."

Abel: "I mean, I don't know that many either but I think I'm fairly standard. What makes me different?"

MJ: "Ya talk," he laughed.

Abel: “In this form. Can’t when I’m a dog.”

MJ: "Yeah, but ya talk. Last familiar I saw couldn't do that. You're special."

Abel: “What really?” Abel frowned. “My mom talks. And the other familiar I know. Maybe we come in different subspecies?”

MJ: "Maybe you're the best kind, ya know? The oldest kinda familiar there ever was. Everything else is a weaker generation. Ya know, like my people."

Abel: “Fuck yeah, that’d be awesome. And it’d make sense I guess. No one really knows what our deal is. Are we witches? Are we Fera? Who knows? Not us that’s for sure.”

MJ: "Kay, so new question."

Abel: “Whatcha wanna know? Ask away.”

MJ: "Are you actually..." He gestured to his face.

Abel: “Am I actually....you? Your friend? Looking at you?”

MJ: "Are you some kinda Japanese familiar? Thai?"

Abel: “Oh! Half Thai, yeah. My mom is from Phuket.”

MJ: "Does that do anything? Are there like, red panda familiars? Tiger familiars? Oh! A fuckin' - what is it - koala familiars?"

Abel: “I’m not really sure. I’m a Thai-Norwegian Jack Russell terrier and the familiar I know is an American fruit bat. I can’t confirm this but I’m almost positive it’s completely random.”

MJ: "Norwegian?" His shoulders slacked, gun dropped and disappeared before hitting the ground. "Thought ya were half-fuckin-French!"

Abel: Abel threw his head back and laughed. “Why?! I can barely speak French!”

MJ: "I dunno! Ya gotta sophisticated suave about ya!"

Abel: “I mean, my dad was pretty suave. A proper gentleman, you know, like someone plucked him out of the nineteenth century.”

MJ: "What he human?"

Abel: “Yeah. Huh....” Abel thought for a minute. “Maybe that’s why I can talk. My mom’s mom was human too.”

MJ: "Well, huh." A brief pause, before his arm sprung to life, twisting outward and forward. A sudden throwing star, neon orange for obvious visual, spiraled towards the familiar.

"Think fast!"

Abel: "AUGHHHH!" Abel did a half sprint/half dodge in his effort to move out of the way, changing into his dog form once he was mostly out of the line of fire.

MJ: MJ threw his head back, laughing with all of his chest in a manner damn near foreign even to himself.

"Good job, Abe!"

Abel: Unable to talk now, Abel just gave MJ a doggy smile and wagged his tail.

The throwing star would be thoroughly investigated, of course. Other people's magic fascinated him.

MJ: It seemed like metal. Would feel cold against his nose. No scent whatsoever, though. Nothing MJ could have imagined, so nothing to perceive. The supposed pointed edges were dull and useless.

Abel: Dull, useless, and safe. MJ was definitely in charge.

Abel trotted over to him and leaned against his friend's leg in a silent bid for an ear scratch.

MJ: Of which he would have with both hands. "Will ya come with me back t'North Carolina?"

Abel: He barked once and wagged his tail some more. Yeah!

MJ: "Huh." He dropped to both knees to look Abel in the eyes, curious if they could establish a proper connection.

Abel: 'Hi!' Abel thought brightly.

MJ: "Ha! I guess you're animal enough."

Abel: 'Plus I'm a familiar so I can already talk to people telepathically.'

MJ: "Well, probably that, then."

Abel: 'Is there a difference between animal telepathy and normal telepathy?'

MJ: "I dunno if what I do is even telepathy, my man. I think it just helps me speak rat, or dog, or whatever else I look at."

Abel: 'Have you ever met an animal you couldn't talk to?'

MJ: "I mean, I ain't tried t'talk t'a mountain lion."

Abel: 'You should!' That tail started wagging again. 'LET'S GO TO THE ZOO AND TALK TO ANIMALS!'

MJ: "Can't ya already do that?"

Abel: 'Well yeah but we can do it together!'

MJ: "We'll do it 'fore we go east. How 'bout that?"

Abel: 'Fuck yeah!' That tail went still; the doggy version of a gasp. 'Wait, can you talk to fish?'

MJ: "Man, I dunno. We'll have t'see. Maybe!"

Abel: 'Forget the zoo, let's to the aquarium and talk to fish and eels and things.'

MJ: "Whatever ya want. It's a long drive."

Abel: 'Wait, we're driving to North Carolina?'

MJ: "Yeah. What did you think?"

Abel: 'I thought we were teleporting like the magical beings we are.'

MJ: "No. I have an RV n'm'gonna use it. That shit is for demons."

Abel: He would've laughed if he'd been able to.

'You travel with a demon all the time!'

MJ: "Yeah! I miss bein' on the road! The point is the journey, not the destination!" he laughed.

Abel: 'Can we make stops at weird and funky attractions?'

MJ: "All of em. Biggest yarn and largest gold nugget. All that shit."

Abel: 'HELL YEAH!'

MJ: "We gonna practice some shit, or ya wanna stay like that?"

Abel: 'Oh right.'

Abel changed back and shook himself off.

MJ: "Ya ever forget your clothes in those transitions?"

Abel: "Alllll the time. Clothes fucking suck, man."

MJ: "Ya gotta think about keepin' the clothes on, huh?"

Abel: “Yep. Xavier said I wasn’t allowed to send my clothes into the void anymore.”

MJ: "How many times that happen?"

Abel: “Enough that Xavier told me I wasn’t allowed to send my clothes into the void anymore.”

MJ: "What cha wanna do now?"

Abel: “You tell me. Whatcha wanna see or do?”

MJ: "I wanna see... everything. I wanna see my limits. I wanna see if she left somethin'. I wanna feel everything."

Abel: "Everything? That's a big ask. We should come up with tests!" He plopped himself down on the grass. "What could she do? What powers did she have?"

MJ: "She could feel and read minds. I'm kinda illiterate that way." The vampire dropped himself by the familiar's side.

Abel: "Feel like--the way demons can?"

MJ: "I dunno. I've never had it t'know the difference."

Abel: "Mmmm, okay." Abel turned toward the house and squinted. "Let's see if you can feel how many people are in the kitchen right now. We can ask Xavier for help later but for now let's explore. Close your eyes and focus on the energy from that room. You know exactly where it is and what it looks like. Focus on it."

MJ: He would go with the flow. Time to close his eyes and wake his body, purposefully taking a needless breath. Focus on the house, the servants, son and father.

Nothing.

"I know they're there, but everything feels the same."

Abel: "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way." MJ knew the servants were inside; that didn't really let him get an accurate read on them.

"What if....I go hide in the woods and you see if you can find me? Kinda like telepathic hide and seek?"

MJ: "M'gonna fail miserably," he laughed.

Abel: "Gotta walk before you run, buddy. I'll make it easy on you."

MJ: "Nah. Don't do that. Just try t'hide n'if I don't find ya, well you're lost forever."

Abel: "Pfft, you'll get lost before I do." Abel eased himself up and stretched. "Give me five minutes before you come looking. And no peeking!"

MJ: "No peeking." He would sprawl on the grass with closed eyes just for show.

Abel: "Good. Five minutes!"

With that, Abel transformed back into his dog form and set off into the woods. His aim was to go far enough to present a little bit of a challenge but not so far that it was impossible. He also didn't want to be too easy to find. He had to hit a real balance.

Confident that he'd struck it, he waited to be found.

MJ: Five minutes tinkering on his phone and contemplating his unlife. Wondering what Rohan was doing, thinking, feeling in this moment.

He got to his feet and headed for the woods. An open mind, right? He felt for...something. There was nothing there to feel. The crisp oncoming winter. The thick scent of grass, still moist from the storm the night before.

The scent of wet dog.

Good old fashioned olfactory.

"I think I cheated," he called.

Abel: MJ would find him back in his human form sitting on a long fallen tree, partially concealed by some shrubs. He'd been trying to send his friend some mental signals to help him in his search and smiled when he saw him.

"Yay! Aw wait, how?"

MJ: A quick tap to his nose. "Don't think I got that. Fuck."

Abel: “Damn. Well that’s okay, you still managed to find me. Let’s try another one, what else could she do?”

MJ: MJ closed his eyes to think. Funny, considering her nearness. He knew the answer and yet he lingered on memory. And then he didn't.

"Speed like wind. A...presence that could make a man her bitch. I - She - could read people like colors in a halo," he gestured around the back of his head.

Abel: "Colors in a halo? Like auras?" Speed could be easily tested. The presence...maybe could also be tested. He'd need to take MJ somewhere to do it though.

MJ: "Yeah. That word. The only way to get your way," the hybrid laughed.

Abel: “Okay then, let’s test! Try to see mine. Don’t focus on me so much, try to focus on the space just around me.”

MJ: The vampire knew how to do this. Not one half, but the other. No different than nearsighted eyes attempting focus. But what followed caught both ends of the melded souls.

"I see...your shape. I see...it's like a film over ya."

Abel: “Can you make out anything in the film? What color is it?”

MJ: "It's like milky. I don't really - I can't tell. But I feel somethin'. Like... your dog form."

Abel: "Hmmm...maybe you can perceive some things. Maybe it would help if i switched back?"

MJ: "What would ya bein' a dog do?"

Abel: He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe being in my true form would make my aura more clear."

MJ: "Okay I still don't get it. Were ya born a puppy or a baby baby?"

Abel: "Baby baby, but thinking about it, it's hard to tell. My mom transformed a lot while she was pregnant with me and happened to be in her human form when she gave birth."

MJ: "So you're...like, more even than ya are human?"

Abel: "Dude, I don't even know. No one really knows what familiars are. We have magic but we're not witches, and we have animal forms but we're not Fera. We're some kinda hybrid...something."

MJ: "Sounds awesome. I mean, can't complain, right?"

Abel: "Nope!" he said cheerfully. "Got the best of all worlds. And in the best possible place." This was a house of unusual beings after all.

MJ: "Xavier gonna let ya go road trippin' with me?"

Abel: "I don't see why he wouldn't. We don't have human limitations for seeing each other."

MJ: "You've never been on a road trip, huh?"

Abel: "I've been on short ones but never a cross-country one."

MJ: "Gotta pack what cha wanna bring. No jumpin' back just 'cause."

Abel: "Aww, but what if Colleen is making something really good for dinner?"

MJ: "You're one spoiled dog."

Abel: Abel laughed. "Not even gonna argue that, I totally am. Still though, we have to visit sometime. Devy will miss us."

MJ: "Yeah. He will. We can make a visit, but that's all it'll be for me. I need t'get out."

Abel: “Itchy feet, huh?”

MJ: "Been in torpor for days. M'new. I need t'move."

Abel: "When do you wanna leave?"

MJ: "Tomorrow night, maybe?"

Abel: "I better start packing. And you better tell Xavier we're peacing out for a while."

MJ: "Isn't he in your head right now?"

Abel: "He doesn't just invite himself in. He either reaches out and I let him in or I reach out and he lets me in."

MJ: "Has he always been that way?"

Abel: Abel nodded. "Yep. At least as long as we've all known him."

MJ: "How... old are ya, dude?"

Abel: "Forty-four. Turning forty-five in June."

MJ: "Ya don't look a day over twenty."

Abel: "Awwww, you. I'm going to look not a day over twenty for a long, long time."

MJ: "Are ya forever or somethin'?"

Abel: "Potentially, but not necessarily."

MJ: "What's that mean?"

Abel: "Means I have the potential to live forever but it isn't necessarily a given. My mom used to say it depends on the strength of the witch we paired with. Having chosen a demon, odds are I'll be around longer than most familiars."

MJ: "Could a vampire "own" you?" Complete with air quotations.

Abel: He shrugged. "Maybe, if they had enough magic. That's the basis of the bond."

MJ: "Ya done answerin' questions?"

Abel: "I don't mind them," he said with a smile. "Questions are how we learn! But if you wanna go back, let's head back."

MJ: A glance was given to the house. He shook his head. "Nah. Think m'gonna stay in my RV."

Abel: "....Can I ask a question?"

MJ: "Sup?"