browneyedwolf

Go to Girl

Oliver ended up making more than one phone call after he stomped out of the Wolfram and Hart building. He realized in fairly short order that his initial plan was foolish, that he was barking up the wrong tree, and so he altered his plans accordingly. He knew that whatever he tried to tell Mallory, she'd never believe. But he knew who would take his word for it, if only on the surface. That was all he needed.

He was sitting in a coffee shop a couple of blocks away from the hotel, looking down at an open sketch pad as he finished up what he'd been working on. What better way to express what he'd seen - done - than to capture it on paper? He hadn't drawn anything in over two years, had let the habit go by the wayside. Maybe it was time to change that.

A cup of black coffee was cooling near the edge of the table, and he picked it up absently to take a sip. He would complete this one, then go on to another. Even if no one ever saw them, he knew what they were and what they meant. The lines of Hannah's pixie face had taken form on the formerly blank sheet of paper, and he smiled very slightly before his expression became characteristically solemn again. He had precious few things he cared very much about, but this was one of them. He wanted to remember why.

Julie entered the coffee shop and spotted Oliver sketching away in the corner of the establishment. Whatever it was that he was working on, he was paying complete attention to that rather than the outside world.

The werewolf shook her head slightly at the sight of the spellcaster seeming to be so distracted and moved to get in line for a coffee of her own before finding out what was so important that he called her. In the two years she'd known him, Oliver had never initiated contact. It had always been the other way around, and while she wouldn't call the man a friend he had never steered her wrong and always treated her with respect.

There was the one kiss they'd shared in the hallway of his hotel, but Julie never had been able to figure out what had caused that. He'd never shown any interest in her romantically, and truth be told he brought back too many memories of Judah for her to be interested in him in that way.

The short line moved and eventually she got her grande mocha before coming to sit down in the seat opposite Oliver. "Hello Oliver," she greeted the spellcaster politely, gracing him with a small smile. She glanced down at the sketchpad, but the cover had been closed and denied her a view of whatever it had been that he'd sketched.

"You're looking well."

Some instinct had told Oliver that Julie was approaching, and he'd closed the sketchpad and tucked it out of sight in his lap as she sat down. The werewolf would not understand, and he wasn't the sort who explained himself. "Hello, Julie," he responded in a low voice, meeting her eyes across the table. He remembered kissing her, letting it happen for just a little too long, but it seemed like a very long time ago.

"Thank you for coming. I didn't know if you would. I hope this holiday season is going well for you."

He took another drink of black coffee, wishing for a cigarette and cursing the 'no smoking' policy that was in effect. The widespread idiocy of trying to order people's lives for them was cutting a wider swath lately. Never mind. What he had to say was important, and he could have a smoke on the sidewalk later.

"Would you like a sandwich or something else? I'll buy. I dragged you out here, I can at least pay for your lunch."

"It sounded important," the werewolf replied, taking a sip of her mocha. "I figured it was the least I could do considering everything you've done for me in the past."

Julie shrugged, pretending that the holidays didn't bother her this year. "I couldn't go home over Christmas, wrong time of the month if you get my meaning." She'd sent her gifts through the mail and promised to come down after the new year. Sometimes it sucked being a werewolf.

"If you're buying I'll eat." A werewolf's metabolism meant she could always find a reason to eat. "A chicken wrap sounds good."

Oliver ordered two sandwiches and asked for a refill of his cup, and when the server disappeared again he nodded. "It is important," he told Julie, looking at the framed pictures on the walls in a distracted fashion. Local artists, he guessed, having already looked at the small cards taped to the wall next to them.

The shop wasn't very busy, and the server returned with their orders in only a few minutes. Oliver lifted the corner of the bread and examined the egg salad beneath it critically before pronouncing it passable. He took a small bite, waited until the two of them were alone again, then cleared his throat quietly.

"Your friend Mallory," he began. "Is she still...is the vampire still in the picture?"

No other way to ask it, really, and he had never believed in dancing around a subject, no matter how distasteful. He knew that Julie likely had her own feelings about Ms. Foxworth, if only as a werewolf, that natural dislike would have taken root. No matter. He would say his piece, and Julie would at least be likely to listen. That had always been his problem, really, finding someone willing to listen.

"I need to give her some information, but I doubt she'd believe me no matter what I said. I suppose I don't blame her. But she must be told, and she'll believe you. I don't mean to impose, but can I ask a favor from you?"

The sandwich met with Julie's approval and the werewolf made a 'yum' noise as she chewed while listening to Oliver's information. The chicken really was very good, she'd have to raise her opinion of coffee house sandwiches.

Great, Victoria again. Julie managed to avoid rolling her eyes as Oliver explained it. It seemed every time she turned around something was coming up in the way of Mal's lesbian vampire lover. Why couldn't her friend have fallen for someone more...normal? Like Byron maybe?

"I'm not sure Mallory will listen to me when it comes to Victoria," Julie shook her head regretfully. "She knows I don't approve of the relationship, though I've tried to be the supportive friend who doesn't criticize." The werewolf took another bite of her sandwich and washed it down with a sip of mocha before she continued. "I've talked with her about it in the past, but what's going on this time?"

"I had an...unfortunate association with another of Ms. Foxworth's acquaintances." Unfortunate association. What a polite way to put it. Oliver took another bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "That has since come to a rather bad end. I have the feeling that this other party is going to start sniffing around again. She...has a habit of doing that. Falling back on old crutches."

Crutches. He had been Jill's crutch once, but now that she didn't need him for anything anymore she had to go find another one. Like her fucking job. Fine. They'd see who could play cold bastard better.

"Your friend should be on the lookout for her. They've had words in the past over it, and I think she's probably going to begin circling at her earliest convenience. That's what sharks do, after all."

"So one of Victoria's old girlfriends is going to come sniffing around?" Julie wasn't sure why this was such a bad thing. Maybe it would convince Mal to end things with the vampire if Victoria got involved with an ex. "What makes this such a dangerous thing?"

She did feel a pang of sympathy for Oliver, it sounded like he'd been involved with the ex as well.

"I didn't say it was dangerous," the spellcaster explained patiently. "Safety isn't my concern. Preventing Jill from getting what she wants is. From ever getting what she wants again, if I can help it."

He thought he saw a sympathetic look pass over Julie's face, and he smiled at her across the short distance between them. "Don't worry about me," he told the werewolf. "I find myself strangely content in recent days. In some ways, at least." He touched the closed sketchpad where it rested on his right thigh, considered letting Julie see. He was a very private person, but maybe she would understand. While the word friend was not one he used often enough to become accustomed to it, she was not his enemy, not out to hurt him. Maybe?

"Have you ever had an experience that's beyond words?"

Julie blinked. So this was about some other woman not getting what she wanted because she'd dumped Oliver to go after Victoria? The werewolf didn't want to believe that the spellcaster would do that deliberately, so there had to be more to the story than that.

"I guess you could say that...but not in a good way." Julie could only think of one experience that qualified to that description: her abduction by Brad a little over a year and a half earlier. In several ways Julie wasn't sure she'd ever fully recover from that experience, being violated in such a fundamental way. The werewolf shook her head to purge the thoughts from her head.

Hopefully her face hadn't looked too haunted, but from Oliver's expression she knew she hadn't been entirely successful. "It was a long time ago now, but sometimes it feels like it just happened yesterday."

The corners of Oliver's mouth tightened, and he reached across the table to place his hand over Julie's, an odd gesture for someone so naturally closed off. But he knew that look. Knew it too well, had worn it so often himself that it felt like a mask he couldn't take off. His head went from side to side slowly, a negation of whatever she was thinking.

"You mustn't let whatever you're thinking take over," he said in a serious voice. "That's how the bad things win. You might think I'm a fine one to talk, but you can't let what came before touch everything else. It poisons the well."

He retreated back into his bubble after another moment, looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. Another bite came and went, and he wiped some stray egg salad off onto a paper napkin. "I can trust you, can't I?" he asked, looking at his food instead of at the werewolf. "Trust you enough to show you something?"

"Thank you," Julie smiled at him for the consideration. He was right about not letting it take over, something she tried very hard not to do when that particular memory came up.

She frowned at the next words that came out of his mouth. What was that supposed to mean? "Oliver...I promise I won't laugh at you, if that's what you mean. I'm sure it's a lovely drawing." She wondered if she sounded like a kindergarten teacher or some other kind of patronizing figure.

"I think you should know by now that I don't go around hurting people without cause."

Oliver's mouth quirked, almost but not quite an attempt at a smile. "I don't wear my heart on my sleeve," he said simply, then looked down at the book he'd been drawing in. His fingers were smudged with graphite. Hannah would probably like it if trust was something he could learn. He brushed the hair off of his forehead, then flipped open the cover and set it on the table so that only Julie could see inside. He felt like a child trying to hide things.

"I'm self-taught," he said after a pause. "I tried classes, but it takes the spirit out of it. You can either draw or you can't." If she laughed, he was going to set something on fire.

"I had the damnedest time getting the eyes just right. Drawing from memory is difficult."

"Oh..." Julie breathed out, surprised at the subject matter. "Oliver...this is good." She reached out with one hand to touch the edge of the page gently.

Hannah was laughing at something, her mouth an open grin and eyes twinkling in that unique expression that was just....Hannah. The spellcaster had captured her friend's personality and spirit perfectly in the drawing.

"I didn't realize you knew Hannah, outside of our little stint as tv actors." She wondered how much the man remembered from that experience?

How could he tell her the whole of it? That for a short space of time, Hannah had been a dream made flesh? Her warmth and her kindness had made him safe, not only to be naked in front of her, but to be bare, his maimed heart and his crippled soul limping into her view so that she could touch them. He looked down at his hands, avoiding Julie's gaze. Even if she believed him, that was one thing he could never share.

"I...she was...at my father's grave," he said haltingly, picking up his coffee cup as a distraction. "I didn't even realize she was..." Dead. "She had to explain it to me." He chuckled self-consciously, wishing to Christ he could smoke in here.

"She was kind to me." The inadequacy of the words slapped him in the face, and he scowled. He lifted his eyes back to the werewolf's face, some of his customary egotism returning. "It is good, isn't it?"

Julie smirked at the normal egotism creeping into the spellcaster's face. "Quit fishing for compliments, Oliver. I already told you it was good." She shook her head in affectionate irritation, she couldn't change the man's personality and wasn't sure she wanted to even if she could.

"Hannah was...is a kind soul, and a good friend. I miss her, she was taken from us far too soon. But at least we get to see her every now and again." It was small comfort but the best she could come up with.

"I'll pass along the information, Oliver, but no guarantees that Mal will listen to me."

"Mmm. Well, I know you can only do so much. But I know you'll do your best." And if what he suspected was still true, Mallory would react accordingly. Oliver knew all about hate. The emotion was even more dangerous when mixed with love for another. If nothing else, he was actually doing Ms. Foxworth a service, albeit by proxy. Not even a vampire deserved to have a ball and chain like Jill around their neck.

"I hope your holiday season improves," he offered. "You shouldn't mourn your condition so much, Julie. With time and practice, control is possible. Even magic requires tempering. I could recommend some books about meditation if you'd like." He looked down at his sandwich again, then took the sketchpad back and closed it again.

"Do you want anything else? I could get you a refill, at least."

"I know...and I would be grateful if you could recommend some books, thank you." She forced a smile and nodded at Oliver's offer. Julie didn't mourn it so much as she saw more downsides than upsides to her condition.

She wasn't sure how to go about talking to Mallory about Victoria's ex girlfriend trying to get back into the picture. It wasn't really any of her business either way, but Oliver had asked and so Julie would pass along the information.

The werewolf checked her watch and frowned. "I'll have to pass on the refill Oliver, I need to get going. I'm supposed to be on shift at the Lighthouse in an hour and I don't want to be late." She stood up, then leaned over to kiss the spellcaster on the cheek. "Thank you for the meal and the information, you're a better man than you give yourself credit for. Take care of yourself and I'll see you around."

With that, Julie gathered up her jacket and purse and moved for the door.

Surprised and vaguely flustered, Oliver mumbled a farewell to Julie's retreating back as she started towards the exit. Better man. Better than who? But he supposed he had made an effort, which was more than he could be bothered with most of the time. His fingers curled around the pad of paper as he pulled it back into his lap, concealing it from view from the other patrons.

There was only so much sharing he could do in one day.

A letter from the dead

Julie hummed to herself as she swept out the back room of the Lighthouse bar, finishing up the last of the work needed to close the place up for the night. It had been a slow night and the werewolf had started closing everything up early. With her hearing there would be no worries about people coming in without her knowing about it, so once she'd finished cleaning up the front she'd moved to the back.

The werewolf dumped the last of the sweepings into the trash and cocked her head at an odd noise coming from the front. Had she missed someone coming in after all? "Hello? Someone there?"

No response.

Frowning, Julie wiped her hands on a bartowel and moved out into the front room. "Hello?"

There was no one there, it was just as she left it...except for the envelope on the locked register. How had that gotten there?

Julie gasped as she saw the handwriting on the outside, and picked the envelope up with trembling hands. It was from Hannah.

How the ghostly version of her friend had managed to do this, Julie had no idea. She pulled one of the chairs off a nearby table without taking her eyes off the envelope and sat down heavily.

She opened the envelope, pulling the necklace out and staring at it in a kind of wonder. It was a nice gift, very touching in its own unique way. Being a werewolf was something she had come to accept, most of the time, but every now and again she struggled with it. The time right after her reversion from being Juliana had been particularly tough - the first day she'd walked around feeling like she'd had a huge part of her had suddenly been ripped away and been given a curse in its place. She'd adjusted though, and gradually come back to herself.

How had Hannah managed to come up with this from beyond the grave? Mal had told her that the blonde was now some kind of gatekeeper for the dead...maybe she was going to be allowed to spend more time among the living.

Julie put the necklace on the table and looked at the note. Magnificent? Julie blinked and felt tears streaming down her cheeks.

She wished she could see her friend again. "I miss you too," she whispered into the empty bar. Would Hannah be able to hear her? Was she even there? Probably not, but it didn't matter.

"I miss you too."

The things people write

In his years on the stage, Orrin had known that there were trade papers that followed the doings of actors and actresses while they were between projects, but nothing had truly prepared him for the sheer amount of information that existed when it came to the personal lives of television stars. The set was mostly quiet after a day's worth of shooting, and he'd been loitering around waiting for Anna while perusing a copy of Entertainment Weekly. He wanted to talk about these...pictures of hers.

But what was really disturbing? What he hadn't expected at all? Was that he'd discovered that strangest creature of all, a 'gift' from his press agent, who'd directed him to a number of websites after they discussed his options for when his contract came up for renewal again. Some of it was good, some of it not so much, some of it was downright execrable.

Orrin had discovered fanfiction.

His dark brows were drawn together in a studious fashion, and to any bystander he could have been reading a copy of Titus Andronicus from all the concentration he was giving the printed sheets in his hand. People wrote this stuff? For fun? He was never going to understand the way the mindset of today's television viewer worked.

There was a shuffling noise off to his left, and he hurriedly folded the papers up and tucked them out of sight in the inside pocket of his jacket. Which would be worse, to be caught reading a gossip rag or to be caught reading the amateurish efforts of some high-school student with a laptop? He didn't want to find out.

"Thanks again for watching her Mrs. Parsons, I'll be leaving the set soon." Julianna hung up her cell phone and slipped it back into her pocket before starting to gather her things.

It had been a long day on the set, shooting a scene between Connor and Julie for an upcoming episode of the show. She enjoyed working with Calvin. Sure he was a little edgy off camera, but when it came to actually doing his job he was a damn good actor. The character of Connor was one that seemed to be evolving as time went on, but she wondered just how more fucked up the writers could make the poor guy.

Not that Julie's writers were any different, it seemed like the werewolf was always worried or concerned about something.

But work was over for the day, which was good since it was late and she needed to be getting home to Annie. Mrs. Parsons was an older woman and something like the neighborhood grandma, but Julianna couldn't impose on her to keep watching her daughter forever. If nothing else it would make her feel bad that the older woman wasn't getting enough sleep, trying to take care of an energetic four year old.

She fixed herself a snack from the on set buffet table and started toward the door, and saw Orrin still sitting in his chair even though they'd finished shooting well over fifteen minutes before. "Orrin, for heaven's sake the day is done, no need to stay." It wasn't like he had a curtain call or anything.

"I was just waiting for...someone," Orrin said, straightening up as Julianna approached. He scooped the magazine up and waved it around. Did she even read the tabloids? Probably not, she seemed spectacularly uninterested in the backstage goings-on, but you never could tell.

"Good day?" he asked her politely. He supposed if he was going to re-sign, he should work on relations with his castmates. He was even learning to tolerate Gwen, albeit in small doses. "With your scenes, I mean. They don't have me doing much while Oliver's off visiting relatives, but I've heard that once he returns there's going to be changes for him."

"How does the writing look for tomorrow?"

"I didn't know you were into reading tabloids Orrin," Julianna teased, nibbling on an apple she'd grabbed from the buffet table. It was a wonder they didn't all turn to fat, with all the food floating around the set. If it weren't for her workout regimen and chasing Annie around, she'd be a blimp.

"I hear he might try and pick up Julie," she told the actor with a straight face, recalling their on screen kiss in the last scene they had together. "Since he's single and all, and the resemblance to Judah. Sometimes I think this place is a soap opera rather than a prime time drama."

The corner of Orrin's mouth turned up, and he set the magazine aside again. It had taken him a while to get used to the humor on-set, but after a couple of years he had learned to roll with it a little better. "Sometimes it seems like it," he agreed. "It's probably why they're casting new roles lately, they're trying to widen the scope of things so it doesn't get too inbred."

Of course, if the one website he'd looked at was to be believed, the fans of this show believed it was even more inbred than the scripts would have them believe. He seldom read such things, of course, but what little he had seen spoke of pairings that didn't even exist in front of the camera. It was both flattering and disturbing to know that people took the show that seriously.

"Do you not keep up with the rags?" he asked Julianna. "Everyone around here seems to take them pretty seriously, as if its life and death to know who's supposedly dating who."

"I don't have time to keep up with them," Julianna replied, expression deadpan, "I have a four year old." As Orrin well knew. She'd brought Annie with her to the set when she was younger, but now the little girl was at the age where she'd be bored if she hung around the lot and Julianna wanted her in school anyway.

"I'm more likely to read Goodnight, Moon than I am Variety these days."

She took another bite of the apple. "But its good to have fresh blood in the mix, keeps things interesting. I'd like to do some scenes with Marissa if the opportunity presents itself, Michella looks like a neat character."

"Who are you waiting for?" The young woman looked around the empty set, "I think everyone else is gone already."

"Oh, I was just...uh..." He could tell the truth, because if Julianna didn't keep up with gossip then she'd have no idea about Anna's experiment in photography, but she still might wonder why he was waiting around for her.

"I was waiting for Leia," he finally said, then nodded, as if to make it more believeable. "Have you seen her around? I wasn't sure if she was filming today but I wanted to ask her about something."

A slender brown eyebrow arched in curiosity. Waiting around for Leia, huh? "And just what are you and our resident sex symbol up to, hmmm?" She didn't think he went for the big breasted types, but she could be wrong.

Maybe there was a torrid affair going on right under her nose!

"Yeah," Orrin said with another nod, and now he was having to improvise, which, honestly? Was not his strongest point. He never deviated from a script once it had been given to him, no matter how much he might dislike it, because improv was just not something he was good at.

" Think of something! "...show her this." The taller of the pair fumbled around until he pulled the printed sheets he'd been reading before Julianna appeared, unfolding them with a semi-embarrassed flourish.

"It's the damnedest thing," he continued. "Apparently there are places on the internet where people can publish these stories. I guess I've lived a sheltered life, what with starting out in a different medium and all. Wasn't aware we had such...devoted followers of the show's pairings."

Julianna perused the pages silently with her eyebrows rising even higher. "Wow...I'd heard of these things, but never actually read any. I'm almost scared to check out any of the stuff they've written about Julie." She looked further along and then raised her head to regard her fellow actor quizzically. "This is all about Jill and Oliver? Why would you show this to Leia?"

The actress didn't want to say anything bad about Leia, but the truth was there was a lot of similarities between Leah and Leia.

"Research," Orrin tried gingerly. "It seems like the viewers have been trying to pair Leah up with Oliver too, I was going to contrast this story with whatever else she might have read. It could be an idea for a future storyline. A triangle or something.

And okay, now he was really bullshitting, but he couldn't help but provide a sincere warning on top of it, because he was trying to be more of a nice guy with his castmates. "If you ever do check out some of those sites for yourself, you should probably avoid the Grace/Julie stories. I know you and Gwen are close, but you might not want to know how close your characters can get."

"Julie and Grace? As in a sexual way?" The young woman's nose wrinkled unconsciously at the idea. "Ew." She had her suspicions about Gwen but her friend had never tried to hit on her or do anything that made Julianna uncomfortable.

"I'll keep that in mind." She would definitely steer clear of those sorts of sites, and she didn't have a lot of time to surf the net anyway.

A thought occurred to her as she handed the papers back to Orrin. "Are you going to the Convention up in Vegas? I think the entire cast was invited but I don't really know for sure."

"I talked to my booking guy, he says he's trying to see if there's still room on the question and answer panel. It looks like its going to be a pretty full house, though." Orrin tucked the papers out of sight in a careless fashion, then added, "I've never done a convention either. I guess there's a first time for anything."

He paused, examining the leftovers on the buffet table. "How are you adjusting to the whole celebrity thing? It feels a lot different than when I was doing theater. The fans always want to get closer, for one thing, and I'm not always sure of how to deal with it. I know some people think I'm a snob, and in some ways I am, but I'm not used to having people crowd in on me. Does that make sense?"

"It does," Julianna nodded. "I don't know what its like for guys but for women it can be a little scary. You never know if the guys are just fans or stalkers."

She'd done a few Cons before, mostly in LA or Pheonix, and for the most part had enjoyed the experience. There were always a few fans that made her nervous though, and always made sure she was in a public place when talking to them.

"I guess you just have to take it as it comes."

"As long as I don't have to room with Martha," Orrin said, his tone darkening a notch. He might be learning to tolerate Gwen, but Martha was just as snobbish as he was. Putting them in one small hotel room together was too much to ask of him. "She likes to watch Fashion House, of all things."

He paused, then indicated the time on his watch. "Sorry if I've kept you, I know you've got the kid to get home to. I hope to be filming more scenes with you if they ever let Oliver come back from the wilds of Maine. It looks like its doing him some good, though, so who knows?"

A quick check of the watch and Julianna blanched, she was supposed to be arriving home twenty minutes from now and there was no way she'd make it. "Yeah, I've got to get going. I hope I get to film again soon with you too Orrin, its always fun working with you." She smiled at her cast mate and waved before starting out the door.

Hopefully whatever he wanted to 'discuss' with Leia would be enjoyable for both of them.

Visiting

"Bear! Get off the couch! Bad puppy!" Julianna Sanders scolded the black lab, which looked at her with sad eyes as if to say What? The couch is comfortable mom. You sit on it, why can't I?. The actress was unrepentant and dragged the dog off the couch. "You know better than that, Bear. C'mon, get off."

Unlike most of her cast mates, Julianna did not live in Searchlight while shooting Birthright: The Series. Sure she had a trailer on the lot that she hung out at in between scenes, but the town was just too small for her needs.

Instead, the young actress had bought a house in Henderson. A house in a decent middle class neighborhood with plenty of young families. It was important to her that Annie have other kids her own age to play with, especially with her hours on the set. She was determined that her daughter have a normal life away from the craziness of Hollywood and the self destructive lifestyle that Julianna's ex pursued there.

It helped that Henderson's school system was excellent and that she'd gotten Annie into a fantastic preschool.

In many ways the show had been a life saver: this had been the first series she'd been in that had actually gone anywhere. Her financial situation had been dire before she'd landed a part on the hit show at the start of its second season, coming so soon after her divorce. Julianna had been days away from packing up and moving back with her parents in Missouri and putting that college education to use in something other than acting.

Now she could pursue what she loved, and had made several close friends among the cast and crew in the past two years.

One of the closest of those friends was Gwen Hawkins, and it amused the two women to no end that their characters had a running feud on the show. The Vampire and Werewolf who'd both been after the same man, once upon a time, and bad blood had endured.

Her impatience with the younger crop of today's actor's aside, Gwen could be really open and friendly with some of them when she felt like it. When she felt they deserved it. She'd been reserved with Julianna at first, but when she'd realized the girl was serious about acting and not some flake, she'd thawed towards her. With two divorces of her own under her belt, she knew what it was like to get jerked around by some guy and then have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps.

Besides, the kid was cute and it amused her to be friends with somebody her on-screen persona hated.

Driving out to Henderson took about an hour, but the trek was a pleasant one on her motorcycle. Harley-Davidson was courting her big-time, wanted her to endorse their new line of bikes, so they'd given her one as a gift. Gwen was aware that she must be causing a commotion among the neighbors, but she revved the engine as she sat at a stoplight as if she didn't have a care in the world. When she reached the house, she dropped the kickstand and shut the engine off, returning the street to its former peaceful state.

Sure enough, there was a housewife standing out in the front yard, the mail in her hands, and Gwen waved cheerily as she tromped up the front steps. If she wanted an autograph, let her come over here and ask. She rapped on the door, tucking the helmet under her arm as she felt the perspiration start to dry beneath her shirt. The only thing she couldn't tolerate about Nevada was the heat.

"Gwen! Glad you could make it." Julianna greeted her friend as she ushered her into the house, holding back Bear from jumping up and trying to lick the other woman. It still struck her as odd sometimes that she had become friends with someone she'd idolized as a kid, Gwen had been a star since Julianna had been in pigtails and braces.

"Beer's in the 'fridge if you want one, or milk, juice or water. Take your pick." The younger woman picked up a few toys that were lying around in the living room.

"I put Annie down for a nap a half hour ago so we'll probably have an hour or two before she's up and being the holy terror she is." Julianna had today and tomorrow off since she wasn't shooting anything, but there were scripts lying on the coffee table for upcoming episodes. There was a new plot arc for Julie kicking off soon and Julianna had been reviewing the scripts to see if she wanted to ask for changes.

"All right, mutt," Gwen said good-naturedly, giving Bear's head a companionable scratch. "Just watch the shoes when you're drooling, that's all I ask." She eyed the stack of scripts on the coffee table. "Did they send over anything good? You never can tell with writers. Sometimes they hit it out of the park, but when they don't, they really don't."

"I don't know yet." Julianna let the dog go, and picked up the water bottle she'd left on the table. "The romance with Julie and Connor seems to be heating up a little bit, but both characters are so gun shy it could take to the end of the season for anything juicy to happen. The writers sent me a script that has her older brother coming into town and getting into trouble, and he'll find out she's a werewolf. It looks like it has potential, but I want to talk to the writers about it. Julie needs some episodes where she gets to kick ass, the episode where she tried to take Whistler's head off was good, but there was so much makeup!"

She hated transformation sequences. It took Julianna eight hours sitting in the makeup chair to show Julie's transformation from human to were form, and the actress tried to keep them to a minimum when she could get away with it.

"That's one of the drawbacks of playing a good guy character who isn't a Slayer or whatever," Gwen said with a small headshake. "The writers always seem to get antsy about letting them really cut loose. There are benefits to playing somebody who's expected to beat the hell out of people."

A shrug followed the observation, and the older woman added, "But, who knows? You've really caught on with the fans, and that means you can use that as leverage to get more good story. Popularity means ratings and ratings mean money. It's the whole circle of life. Or something."

A pause to drink some juice while she looked around the living room, and then Gwen asked, "So what's life like in the 'burbs? The neighbors camping out in your front yard yet?"

"Nah," Julianna said, leaning against the back of the couch and taking a sip of her water. "Most of them are pretty good about respecting our privacy, and Annie's made friends with the little girl who lives next door. It helps that I don't keep a landline, and that I haven't publicized where I live. Hopefully it will stay that way, I really like the house."

She didn't consider herself a star, but her character was a popular one and got a decent amount of screen time.

"Besides, the stalkers are all trying to find out where Leia lives so they can find out if she had a boob job."

"You mean she didn't?" Gwen deadpanned. She had an opinion about Leia Anderson, one that said she bordered on being one of the snots, but she was diplomatic enough to avoid being overtly talkative about it. Show business was one of the most cutthroat professions there was, and she didn't need a feud right now. Not with that one, anyway.

"How's the kid doing?" she questioned, changing the subject. "She's almost in school, isn't she? Are you going to need someone to look after her while you're on the set? Its possible I can recommend someone."

Not that she had kids of her own, having managed to dodge at least that bullet, but she enjoyed playing godmother to Annie when she could. The kids she liked best were the ones she could give back to their folks.

"Annie's doing fine, she likes the neighborhood." Julianna said with a proud smile. It hadn't been easy trying to raise a child on her own, especially with her schedule, but she'd managed. "Not that she can really remember what things were like before we moved out this way for the show, heck she was still in diapers then."

Julianna thought about the offer of finding a nanny or sitter for Annie while she was on the set. Her daughter had started preschool, but that only lasted for five or six hours a day and Julianna could be on the set for twenty hours at a stretch. So far she'd been making due with sitters and other moms, but some form of more permanent help was unavoidable.

"Mommy I'm hungry..." a sleepy voiced whine came from the hallway as Annie padded out, dressed in one of her mother's Birthright: The Series t-shirts that hung down almost to her feet. "Auntie Gwen!" The little girl noticeably perked up at the sight of her 'aunt'.

"Hey, kid," Gwen said, putting down her glass and scooping the child up to give her a hug. She'd just been about to ask if Julianna ever heard from El Jerko, aka the bio-dad, but she wasn't going to mention such a thing in front of Annie. "Heard you like your new house. Are you behaving for your mother?"

She set the little girl back down, dropped her weight into the chair again. "Remind me when you're birthday is, hon. I need to pick out a really good gift for you this year."

"Come on Honey, I'll fix you a sandwich, with peanut butter and jelly just the way you like it." Julianna picked up her daughter and carried her into the kitchen.

Clearing the air

Julie had watched the news coverage of Fang Noir's destruction anxiously since she'd realized the extent of the damage. The building had been transformed from nightclub to hollowed out shell, with clumps of rubble sticking out from the basement.

All three cable news channels had led with the nightclub's destruction on the morning newscasts, with reports of people killed and injured. Through it all there was no sign of Connor and she didn't know if he were alive or dead.

The werewolf paced back and forth in the living room of the upstairs apartment that she shared with her coworkers, trying not to worry and failing miserably. She and Connor weren't even in a relationship yet, not officially anyway, but whatever else he was to her Connor was a friend and there had been no word.

Connor looked down at the cast on his arm, then at the pay phone. There was change scattered on the little platform, and he picked through it until he had enough coins for a call. Tucking the phone carefully between his ear and his shoulder, he dropped the money into the slot, then punched the number of the Lighthouse. Just his luck to break the arm of his writing hand. Filling out orders on the job was going to be impossible for a while.

He'd already left a message on Justine's answering machine, telling her that she could meet him in Searchlight in a few days. The cut on his head had only taken a few stitches to close,and they'd given him some painkillers. Painkillers he had no intention of taking. He just wanted to go home and sleep for a little while.

One ring...two rings...three rings...

Pace and turn, pace and turn.

Julie wasn't at all upset over the destruction of Fang Noir. The place had nothing but bad memories for her and if the butcher's bill for blowing it up wasn't bad she might even celebrate, if everyone survived.

The phone resting on the kitchen counter started ringing and the werewolf moved quickly to snatch it up and press the 'talk' button. Hopefully it would be someone with news. "Hello?"

"Hi, Julie, it's Connor. I'm, uh, I'm at the hospital. Could you come pick me up?"

His voice was perfectly normal when he said it, as if he asked her for such favors all the time. The Destroyer swept up the rest of his change with his free hand, dropped it into the pocket of his shirt. He wanted to at least check on Whistler and Purity before he left, but he wasn't staying here overnight.

"Connor!" Julie breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive, alive and in good enough shape to be released from the hospital.

"Which hospital are you at?" She asked, scanning for her purse and keys. "I can leave right now, worst case it takes me forty five minutes to get to you."

A pause, then: "How bad are you hurt? Is everyone ok?"

"Well, we're all alive, if that's what you mean. They admitted Purity and Whistler. Alexis too, probably. But Rhiannon left under her own power, and Corbett and Faith got out okay."

It was almost like being debriefed, and Connor watched as a police officer walked past him, escorting a man sporting handcuffs and a bloody bandage on his head. He turned his back on the hallway, facing the wall. There were phone numbers scrawled on the painted bricks.

"My arm's broken." More matter-of fact words. "They don't want me to leave, but I'm going anyway. I hate how it smells here."

"Just tell me where you are," Julie told him, gathering her things and moving toward the apartment door.

"I'm glad it wasn't worse, you could have been killed. Mallory told me what you were up to." It wasn't quite an accusation, Julie was too relieved that he was alive and mostly well to chastise him for not letting her know in person. Looking at the scene of destruction on TV she knew there was likely nothing she could have done to help.

The Destroyer gave the werewolf concise directions to reach the hospital, then paused in the aftermath to consider her tone. "You're upset. I guess it's already been on the news." Thank God he hadn't waited for the destruction to really draw a crowd. The last thing he wanted was to be in the papers again.

"Can you bring me a sandwich from the bar or something? I haven't really eaten since breakfast. We can talk about the other thing when you get here, all right?"

"Don't worry about it," Julie told him after scribbling down the directions on a nearby notepad, the phone tucked between shoulder and neck. "The important thing is you're alive and that everyone is going to be ok." Eventually anyway. She'd have to pay a visit to the folks in the hospital, say thanks for destroying Fang Noir.

It wasn't that the issue wouldn't be discussed, Julie would get to it in time, but for right now she was more concerned with making sure he was ok.

She nodded about the sandwich. "I'll do that. A ham sandwich with all the fixings, and we can stop at a drive through on the way back if you're still hungry after that."

"Thanks, Julie. I'll be waiting outside when you get here." Connor dawdled a little before putting the phone back in its cradle, and he looked down at the cast again when he'd ended the call. Well, at least it was only his arm. He had two for a reason.

It was dark when he stepped outside, and he leaned against the wall to watch the traffic on the street. He was going to have to catch up with Mallory again, thank her for the lift. It would be good to sleep in his own bed tonight.

Approximately forty minutes later, Julie's truck pulled up in front of the hospital entrance Connor had specified. The werewolf had ignored the speed limits on the trip up to Vegas and fortunately the traffic gods had smiled on her, with no cops along her route to stop her and issue a ticket.

Her eyes settled on Connor, who was leaning against the wall next to the doors, and took in his appearance. She stepped out of the truck, walked up to him and put her arms around him in a hug, all without saying a word.

Connor gingerly put his good arm around the werewolf, the other weighted by the cast and tucked against his stomach. He hoped she wasn't too upset with him, and he really didn't want to argue on the way home, but this had been something he'd had to do on his own. For himself and for Hannah.

"It's not that bad," he said in a low voice. "They said it was a clean break. I'm more worried about Rhiannon, who wouldn't even get in the ambulance. I'm gonna have to call her later just to check in." He let the hug continue for another minute, then carefully disengaged.

"I think we can skip stopping somewhere to eat," he said. "I'm almost too tired to chew, anyway. Did you bring that sandwich, though?"

"Sure," Julie said easily, letting him disengage but holding onto his good hand. "I'm glad you're going to be ok." She still wished that he'd told her about what he was going to do, but that was a conversation for later.

It only took a moment until they were in the truck and pulling out into traffic for the trip back to Searchlight. A brown bag containing a ham sandwich with all the fixings had been sitting on the dash by the passenger seat, ready for human consumption.

"Did you pull it off? Fang Noir is gone, that's on the news, but did you kill this defiler thing?"

"Melted it," Connor said through a mouthful of bread and ham. "Well, Purity melted it. Magic stuff." He took another bite, sniffed at himself idly, made a face. "I reek. I guess that thing had no sense of smell. Don't let me get away without a shower."

When the sandwich was half finished, he leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes for a minute. "There was no time to say anything," he said quietly. "To tell you. I had to go get things together and be there before the sun came up. Sorry."

He wasn't sure it was much of an apology, but he guessed he'd better say something. The fact was, there were going to be places he ended up going that Julie couldn't follow him. Places he wouldn't want her to follow him, if only because he wasn't wired to see her that way, the way he saw Rhiannon. He looked at her profile in silence, then asked, "How bad did things look on the news?"

"Bad." Julie's tone was flat and she glanced over at him before returning her attention to the road. The apology had only partially soothed her irritation with Connor, which was rising closer to the surface now that she was certain he'd be all right. "It looks like a bomb went off, and its been the lead story on the cable channels all day. I do have to thank you for destroying that place, it has some bad memories for me." She hadn't told him much about Brad or what had happened at Fang Noir, maybe one day she would.

"I won't pretend I'm happy about you going off without a word, but I do understand."

She pulled onto the Interstate which would take them to the highway to Searchlight, then turned her head to look at him again. "I may not be trained as a fighter Connor, but I'm a werewolf. I can learn and I won't break like a regular human would." She'd wanted him to help her learn, as a matter of fact, but maybe that would be a bad idea now that she thought about it. He was too close to her, they might have trouble working in teacher-student mode.

He'd been looking out the window while Julie spoke, and when she fell silent again he looked at her. The cast was a ghostly off-white in the dimness of the truck's cab. "You mean like this?" he asked somewhat dryly. "Whistler's leg was so badly broken he couldn't even walk when it was over. And I had to help Purity stop the bleeding when she took a piece of wood in the side. None of us got out unscathed."

He paused, looking down at his half-finished sandwich. He didn't want this to become an argument, not while he was already so tired. "I'm sorry if I screwed up, okay? I should have asked Mallory to say something to you, but I didn't think about it. Next time it'll be different."

That there would be a next time went unsaid, because he didn't feel it was necessary to point it out. He was a fighter, a warrior. If he had any destiny at all, this was part of it. Including broken bones.

Julie nodded. She wasn't particularly interested in having an argument either, but she also didn't want him thinking he could shut her out. "I would appreciate being told to my face if a person I care about is going off into a potentially lethal battle."

The radio played softly in the background, with her hearing it didn't take much for the sound to come in crystal clear and she never cared for music so loud that you couldn't hear what the person next to you was saying anyway.

"How long will that cast be on? That's all that's wrong, a broken arm?"

"I got a little bump on my head, and a few stitches, but other than that I'm fine. The cast'll be off in a few weeks, the doctor said. I think they were relieved to be dealing with something relatively minor." Connor touched the rough surface of the cast with his good hand. He was going to have to get Julie to sign it. Possibly the others too.

"There's something I have to tell you." Because he wanted to do it now, while they were alone. He was kind of surprised Mallory hadn't mentioned it, but if she had, Julie had failed to say anything. The Destroyer ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair, touching the bump lightly. A quiet sigh filled the silence before he spoke again.

"There's a woman in Las Vegas named Justine Cooper. She knew my father. I...I did things because of her, things I'm not proud of. It's an ugly story and I don't want to tell you. But if you want to know me, then you need to know this. All right?"

Julie turned her head at the seriousness of his tone and looked at him for a moment. "If you think it's important, that's fine."

She turned her attention back to the road and changed lanes to avoid hitting an eighteen wheeler loaded up with I-beams. "Should I pull in at the rest area before you tell me?"

Connor shrugged, unable to look at her. "You can stop if you want, I don't mind." He needed to consider what he was going to say, anyway. Not that saying it 'right' was going to make him look better, but at least it probably wouldn't make him look worse. At least getting it over with would spare him having to explain once his father's ex-sidekick actually turned up

He waited until the truck came to a stop in a parking space, still looking down at his unfettered hand. Deciding to tell her was one thing. Actually doing it was another. But leveling with her, being honest, would give her an idea of who he was, and that was only fair.

"She told me that Angel killed my father," he said, his voice barely above a mutter. "That he killed him because Holtz took me away into Quartoth. And I believed her. Whether its because she was convincing or just because I wanted to doesn't matter. I bought her story and Angel...my real father...ended up at the bottom of the Pacific because of it.

He could feel her looking at him, and it turned his stomach into a cast-iron knot. "She murdered him herself. Did it for love, because he asked her to. I got caught in the crossfire. As usual. She loved him, wanted to be with him. But he wanted revenge more than anything else. More than her, more than me, more than his own life. That was what kept him alive for so long. To finish the job, and to have me do it."

Connor looked away, out the window at the darkness. He felt tired. This had been the worst possible time to bring this up. "You deserve to know," he told the werewolf. "I should have said something earlier, but it's kind of a hard conversation to start."

"I'm not sure I understand," Julie told him, hands resting on the steering wheel and looking very confused. "I know your biological parents were vampires, you told me about that. You dumped your biological father in the Ocean because you thought he'd killed this Holtz person who wanted revenge? This Holtz took you to where? Quartooth?"

She understood what he was like now, a good man who tried to do what was right. What she was beginning to understand was that this man had experienced a very different path in his life than the one that had brought her to Searchlight.

"Quartoth," Connor corrected absently, still looking out the window. "You wouldn't know where it is, it doesn't exist in this dimension. My fa--Holtz used to tell me that God brought us together. He raised me, kept me alive when he could have let me die. And then he used me to finish his plan for revenge on Angel. I..."

He fell silent, then thumped the passenger door lightly with his fist. "I knew what I was doing. I acted like I didn't, and Angel said that I would hate myself when it was over, and I did it anyway. Holtz was my father, what was I supposed to do? When you're trapped between one world and another, you have to take sides. I took the wrong one."

He didn't even have it in him to cry about it right now. His good hand twitched in his lap, and he closed it into a fist. "He couldn't have planned it any better," he said with a bitter sort of admiration. "Angel slaughtered his first family, and so Holtz decided to destroy his in return. How's that for poetic?"

Another silence, then; "I told her that I'd see her, asked her to come to Searchlight. He used her just as much as he used me. I don't think either of us know how to go on until we understand what happened."

Julie's mouth opened, then closed without a word. What could she say to a story like that? If she hadn't had her own experience with the supernatural she'd have tossed him out of the truck as a crazy person.

There were gaps somewhere in what he was telling her. She knew he had adoptive parents, he'd talked about them and she'd seen the pictures. They didn't sound anything close to this 'Holtz' person who'd abducted him at a very young age, it sounded like, and taken him to a different dimension?

The werewolf brought her hands up to her temple and began to rub the sides of her head, feeling a headache building as she tried to process all the information that he'd just given her. Part of Julie was flattered that he felt comfortable enough telling her this, that he cared about her enough to want to be honest. It certainly wasn't something you told every prospective girlfriend that came along. Then again, she wasn't exactly normal herself, was she?

"So let me get this straight: you were kidnapped as a small child and taken to another dimension so you could become a weapon to be used by the man who raised you there against your biological father?"

"She cut Wesley's throat. Left him to bleed to death. That's how it all got started, unless you want to look a couple of hundred years back in the past." Connor closed his eyes, wishing he was already home and in bed. She either didn't believe him, which was bad enough, or she did and wanted him away from her, which was...damn it.

"I want to go home now." His voice was very quiet, and he kept looking out the window at the highway beyond the rest stop. "Its been a long day and I need to sleep. Thank you for coming to get me, I appreciate it."

Julie wasn't sure what she'd said wrong, but she could feel the air seem to grow colder between them since she'd asked the question. She didn't know who Wesley was, or why anyone would use an innocent child as a means of revenge, but she knew Connor and knew she didn't want this to be a barrier between them.

"Connor, look at me...please?" She asked him softly, and brought a hand over to his chin to turn his face toward hers.

"I'm...a little confused I guess, this is a lot of information to take in at once and I don't think I understand all of it," the werewolf told him with an apologetic smile. "But one thing I do know is the person you are now. Believe it or not, since my experience with Brad I think I've come to be a pretty good judge of character. It helps when I've got a built-in lie detector." A tap of her nose for emphasis and then her other hand came to rest on his.

"I don't care about your past, I'm interested in the future."

He made some noise, shrugged one shoulder. He supposed he could tell her the rest of it now; Cordelia, Jasmine, the girl he'd killed, but he was too tired. Baby steps. He supposed that was the only way he could get started on this new journey.

"I want you to sign my cast, okay?" he said, a slight chuckle escaping from his throat. "And seriously, thanks. Both for coming to get me and for listening. Not everyone would."

"Anytime," Julie told him with a bright smile now that they seemed to understand each other again. She reached over and pecked him on the cheek. "Thank you, for trusting me enough to tell me. It means a lot. I'll be happy to sign your cast, in the morning."

She started up the engine again and pulled out of the parking space. They still had plenty of ground to cover before they made it home to Searchlight, and it had been a long day, for both of them.

Walking the Dog

Julie hummed along to the music coming out of her ipod as she jogged through the streets of Searchlight. The worst of the heat was over for the day as the sun began to sink below the horizon, and the werewolf was finishing her workout with one last lap around town.

Her route took her through the trailer park, a deliberate choice to force herself to get used to passing by Hannah's trailer without feeling the pang of grief over her friend's death. The cry she'd had with Connor had helped ease her sorrow, but it hadn't yet gone away completely. Going by the trailer was another step in her road to acceptance.

She spotted Mallory out walking along the opposite side of the road, Tuffy on the leash. Julie altered course to meet them and waved.

Mallory waved back, bringing Tuffy to heel as Julie drew closer. She was never certain how the dog would react to her friend, so better safe than sorry. "Hey, you," she said with a smile, leaning down to give the boxer's ears a quick scratch. "Nice evening for a jog. It does get something like cool around here eventually."

"Been meaning to stop by and see you, see how you were getting along," the redhead continued, indicating Hannah's trailer with a discreet gesture. She wondered when they were going to rent it again. "I think we're all still kind of recovering."

Would the werewolf believe it if she said she'd spoken to Hannah right in her own driveway? She found herself glancing around when she came home sometimes, wondering if the blonde would come visit again. Maybe next time she really would ask about uncle Milo. "Are you doing better?"

"I haven't wolfed out any more than I normally should, so that's good." Julie turned off her ipod and knelt down to scratch Tuffy behind the ears. The dog sometimes wasn't sure what to make of her, but had never been hostile.

The brunette glanced up at her redheaded friend. "I'm getting there, slow but sure. Sometimes I've wondered if I was going crazy...but I'm heading in the right direction." Having Connor's shoulder to cry on had helped immensely, and something to focus on aside from her friend's death.

There had been that night she was sure she'd been visited by her friend's ghost, but Mal would think she was crazy if she told her about it so Julie kept her mouth shut.

"C'mon, let's keep moving," Mallory said, and she tugged gently on the leash. "If he doesn't do his business soon, I don't know what I'm gonna do with him. I need to get back to Vegas, see how Sonya's doing."

Oh, that was right, Julie probably didn't know yet. It was hard to keep track of who knew what had happened to who when things kept happening. She hadn't even thought to tell Connor earlier, not even after figuring out that he was the one the Russian had slapped at the grocery store. Too busy helping him gather makeshift weapons for the business at Fang Noir.

She hoped to God Victoria hadn't gotten caught up in the middle of that mess. She'd already had enough trouble with Elfleda.

"Long story," the redhead told her friend, knowing she probably wasn't imagining the curiosity in the werewolf's expression. "But it's going to be taken care of."

"Okay..." Julie was more than a little curious, since from everything she'd heard Sonya was a walking trouble magnet even if she was a good friend of Mallory's. She stood up and started walking alongside her friend.

"So how is Victoria?" She asked more out of politeness than any real desire to know how her friend's vampire lover was. It was something Julie couldn't begin to understand but she wasn't going to make the redhead feel guilty about it.

"Recovering. Trying to get back to normal. It must be a little like coming off of a long drunk." Mallory's voice was neutral as she and Julie walked, because she had decided not to go into too many details. She had given up on trying to make her friend understand. That the werewolf had even inquired about Vicky was enough.

"I met Connor, by the way. Interesting guy. A little rough around the edges, but interesting." She stopped to let Tuffy sniff at a patch of scrub grass he apparently found fascinating, glancing behind her to make sure none of the oldsters who lived nearby were trotting outside for the paper.

"I hope he makes it back all right. He seemed really tense before. This Defiler thing can't be much of a joke if Rhiannon's in on it."

"Makes it back from where? What are you talking about?" Julie didn't bother trying to hide her confusion and alarm. Rhiannon she hadn't met personally but knew by reputation, and whatever this Defiler was it didn't sound good.

Especially if Mal looked worried.

Connor had the night off and Julie assumed he'd gone up to Vegas to visit friends, instead it sounded like he might be off trying to get himself killed.

"Um..." Oops. Had she let the cat out of the bag? Mallory thought about the night before, sleeping on a stranger's couch while Connor and Justine Whoever-She'd-Been talked in mumbles until he'd dozed off in a chair. He'd been gone when she woke up, a little before dawn, and the older redhead had come back without him an hour or so later.

"He went to Fang Noir." Mallory closed her mouth, pressing her lips together. Yeah, she'd put her foot in it. Other people's relationships were too hard to navigate. "There's something hiding out under the building. Something bad enough that they basically organaized a war party to go after it."

War party. Yeah, that sounded promising. "I thought you knew," the redhead said apologetically. Her shoulders went up and down, a gesture evenly divided between embarrassment and a certain stoicism. Bracing up for the yelling. "Sorry."

Julie's vision literally turned red for a moment as the werewolf struggled to contain her emotions. Her eyes flashed golden and a growl escaped her throat before she got herself back under control.

She wasn't upset with Mallory. It wasn't her fault.

"Thank you for telling me, Mal." Julie touched her friend on her shoulder. "At least someone didn't treat me like a child." She and Connor were going to have to have a long talk after this. If the two of them were going to be a couple there needed to be honesty between them, and him going off into a potentially fatal battle was something she ought to have found out from him.

"Fang Noir...I fucking hate that place." She didn't care if Mal's girlfriend owned the place, for her it was hell on earth. If it was going to be destroyed then Julie wanted to be there to watch.

She'd even bring popcorn.

"Guy like that, he might not ever tell you everything," Mallory offered carefully. "It seemed like he was used to marching off to war, and it might not even have occurred to him that giving a heads-up would have been nice. He seems..."

She broke off, waving her hand around in an uncertain gesture. Comparing a man who was here to a man who wasn't, unable to not see the similarities. "Independent. He's probably not used to someone worrying about him." A sudden pang of melancholy, recognizing her loss all over again.

"Don't be too hard on him, okay?" she half-joked. "I'm sure he doesn't think you're a child. It's probably pretty difficult to have to change the way you do things in a short amount of time."

"I'll keep that in mind," Julie assured her friend, even though she had to make an effort to unclench her teeth. Assuming Connor Riley survived his assault on Fang Noir, he was in for an interesting...conversation.

"Someone's got a crush," Mallory sing-songed, lowering her voice and elbowing Julie's side lightly. Trying to lighten the mood now, dissipate the tension. "You like him. You like him or else you wouldn't be mad."

The dog finally stopped picking his way through the patch of grass one blade at the time, and the redhead sarted to walk again. "I'm glad for you, y'know? He seems really nice, if a little scruffy. And Hannah likes him." Likes. Present tense, used deliberately. To blow the rest of the emotional storm clouds away for both of them.

"It's funny who you find loitering in your driveway sometimes."

Julie stopped in her tracks and stared at her friend. "You've seen Hannah?"

She had half convinced herself that she had been seeing and hearing things when she'd been alone the night in the bar a few weeks back. It had sounded so real, and the gust of wind out of nowhere...

"When?"

"Just a little while ago, on my last laundry day," Mallory answered, offering Julie a small, reassuring smile. "She said to say hello, and that she's okay. I thought I was crazy at first, but she was really there. I got to say some of the stuff I'd meant to say before."

Pause, then; " She's not stuck or anything. She's got this job or something where she is. Like, guiding other souls to where they're supposed to go. Kind of like being a greeter in the afterlife, I guess. 'Hello, welcome to eternity, here's your harp, don't lose it'."

The redhead fell silent, scratching the back of her neck. "I miss her," she said more quietly. "It's like a light went out, and then came back on a little dimmer, y'know?"

"I'd thought I might have been cracking up, when I heard her." Julie admitted softly. "I heard her call my name and there was this sudden gust on a dead calm night...and that was it. I thought it might have been my imagination."

She knelt down and scratched Tuffy behind his ears as a way to avoid looking at her friend's face. "It isn't right. They shouldn't have taken her, it wasn't her time. It was Whistler's."

It wasn't Whistler's fault, but she wasn't sure she could ever look the hatted man in the eye again and not think that he should have gone instead of Hannah. Julie still missed her terribly, and would for some time. It might never go away entirely.

"Is she happy?"

"She misses being here," Mallory replied, allowing Julie to avoid her eyes. "Day to day stuff. But she says she has purpose where she is, and I think that does make her happy. She says sometimes people can't move on after they die, so they just linger between this world and the next." She shrugged, uncertain of how to really describe it.

"I don't think she's lonely, if that's what you're asking. If anything, she probably wishes there was less to do. But she said she'd come back when she could, and she wanted me to tell you and Connor both that she was okay, and not to worry for her."

Tuffy whined softly, and she obliged him by starting to walk again. There were lots more single blades of grass to sniff at , after all. He was getting fat. Maybe she should put him on a diet. He'd look ridiculous if his stomach started to drag the ground.

"She loves us. She wouldn't want us to be sad forever."

"I know," Julie admitted. She stood up and resumed walking alongside her friend, letting Tuffy resume his explorations.

"It's hard though, it wasn't right the way she died. She deserved a rich long life, to die surrounded by her grandkids. Not before she even made it to twenty five to be some...some...some modern day version of the boatman across the river Styx."

"I know." The words were quietly spoken, and Mallory touched the werewolf on the shoulder supportively. Their occasional differences aside, they understood each other on a lot of other fronts. But it was better to disagree sometimes and still be able to grieve together than to always see eye-to-eye and not be there for each other when they needed to.

"Maybe next time, you'll see her yourself and she can tell you. I feel like I'm not saying it right. I guess I wouldn't be a very good trying to write advertising for anything." A lame joke, but the best she had to offer at the moment."

"Try not to kick Connor's ass too hard when he gets back. He's probably having a hard enough time dealing with things where he is."

"We'll see..." Julie huffed noncommittally, despite her worried expression. She hoped he was all right, it sounded like he'd gone off to a potentially lethal fight.

Despite her wish that Connor had told her about the fight, she knew there wasn't a lot she could have done to help. Sure she was a good shot with a gun, but her skills at hand to hand against a supernatural opponent were limited at best. "I'd probably just have been dead weight if I'd gone along."

That supportive touch again, Mallory's hand going to Julie's shoulder to provide strength and comfort. "If you need anything, you let me know, all right?" the redhead told her friend in a quiet voice. "Even if it's just to talk. I know how it can be."

She fell silent, her thoughts drifting back towards Sonya. Always someone or something to look after. But the worst thing you could do, in her opinion, was turn your back on someone when they needed you most.

"Thanks Mal," Julie reached up and patted the hand on her shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help with Sonya, let me know." She'd only encountered the Russian a few times, but the girl seemed harmless even if she was the definition of paranoid.

She tried to push the worries over Connor out of her mind, they had barely started anything that could be considered a relationship but she was still a friend. There wasn't anything she could do but wait.

The young woman sighed and dropped her hand. "I guess I'd better finish my run, have to keep in shape." She cracked a smile and chuckled. "Even with a werewolf's metabolism I need to keep up with the exercise, or else I'll blow up like a whale the way I eat."

"Yeah, I gotta get back anyway, before Sonya calls the National Guard to come find me." Mallory shook her head good-naturedly, hooking a thumb back in the direction of her trailer. "Call me in a couple of days, maybe we'll have coffee or something."

She tugged on the leash again. "C'mon, mutt, I'll feed you when we get back." Tuffy snuffled at Julie once more before the redhead led him away, and she decided to give him an extra rawhide chew as a reward for being patient. Fall was coming to Nevada. Sometimes even the desert got a little chilly.

What you can do today

The lighthouse was closed and all the lights were off. Julie had finished cleaning after Hannah's ghost, or what she thought was Hannah's ghost, and the werewolf now sat in the light of the waning moon sipping a beer.

In a way, encountering her friend's spirit had made her feel even worse. If she'd been there in that trailer when Hannah had made that choice she could have pulled the blonde away from Whistler, stopped her before she gave up too much of her energy in the attempt to cure him.

She needed to get over that feeling. Julie knew it wasn't healthy to be sitting there brooding, but she couldn't quite bring herself to let go yet.

Connor had made sure that Rhiannon had been all right to drive before she'd left the parking lot of the Lighthouse, then trudged back to the bar. The sunburn was starting to sting a little more, and he wondered if there was something inside that he could put on it. He hoped he still had a job, since this was his first time really being back, but he thought that Jo would be pretty understanding once he explained it to her.

When he came across Julie sitting by herself drinking a beer, he stopped walking and studied the ground in front of his shoes before moving again. He'd left her in such a state before that it occurred to him that he might need her forgiveness over the disappearing act, but all he said was, "Hey. Long day?"

He took a seat close by, feeling loose grains of sand peppering the back of his neck. Tonight he would sleep in his own bed and see if that helped. He did feel a little better, but only a little. It seemed like he would have gotten used to it by now, but some things you never really developed a thick skin over.

Connor's presence had been noted by the werewolf as soon as he'd put his key in the lock, but she'd ignored him until he actually spoke to her. She wasn't feeling particularly charitable toward anyone at the moment and continued to drink her beer as he made his way over.

"Long two weeks," She finally told him, and took another sip of beer. "I went to go talk to Whistler after you left, he wasn't there. Ran into someone called Elfleda instead and spent two weeks as a wolf for my trouble."

Julie wasn't quite ready to talk about how she'd eventually returned to her human shape, and looked over in his direction. She frowned as she took in his appearance. "What happened to you? You look like you've been burnt to a crisp."

Elfleda. The fucking bitch couldn't leave the wound unsalted, could she? Connor could feel sand in his shirt and in his hair, and he shrugged when he said, "I got sunburned. It'll go away in a couple of days."

He looked at the beer Julie was drinking, then back down at the surface of the bar. "Did you ever see him?" The notion that she had confronted Whistler while she was changed crossed his mind, and he looked sideways at her without making eye contact. He was too tired to really consider the possibility.

"I shouldn't have walked off like that. Before. But I needed to be by myself where I could sort out the noise in my head. Are you..." Angry? Pissed off? Can you forgive me? The Destroyer got up and walked around the corner of the bar, and ice cubes crunched together as he got a fresh beer of his own. One more wouldn't hurt, and then he'd get a shower and head off to bed. Besides, it would give him something to look at besides the werewolf's profile.

"I met him all right," Dani finished her beer and half stood long enough to toss the empty into the recycle bin behind the bar. "Gave him a few scars to remember me by and he somehow got through to me enough to make me realize he wasn't the one responsible for Hannah's death. I was this close," finger and thumb held a hair's breadth apart, "this close from tearing out his throat, but he got through thank god, and I didn't bite him either."

She leaned over the counter and fished out another beer, dressed in the same tanktop and shorts she'd been wearing all day since she'd changed out of the bowling shirt she'd made it back to the apartment in from Whistler's. It had been a hot day and she made better tips when the old timers could see her legs anyway.

"And I don't blame you for going off, I wasn't exactly rational either that night."

Connor just listened. The Agent was alive, then. Which was good, because he supposed it would make Rhiannon happy. And because if Julie had killed him, she would have felt bad about it later, and Whistler wasn't worth the guilt. There was enough of that going around.

"I'm glad," he said neutrally, re-claiming his seat next to her. "That you didn't, and that you're back to normal. I wouldn't want you to have done something you regretted." The bottlecap hit the bar, and he took a cooling sip of beer.

"How are you now?" A careful question, because he didn't want to pry, to intrude on her lingering grief. But here in the silence with her, he couldn't not ask.

"I'm ok," she wasn't, but Julie didn't want to burden Connor. Part of her thought she might be going insane, what with thinking she'd run across Hannah's ghost.

But she wasn't ready to share that with him, not sure what he thought about her anyway. Julie had thought there might be something between them, but ever since she'd tried to get him to go down to the lake with her that summer he'd found reasons to be elsewhere.

What was it with men? She either scared them off or attracted men she couldn't or didn't want to have. Maybe there was seomething wrong with her. The werewolf took a deep sip of her beer and tried not to think about it.

Connor nodded, letting out a quiet breath. "Good," he said, his voice still quiet. He wasn't sure if he believed her or not, but if she said she was okay then he'd take her words at face value. "That's good. I'm glad."

He took another drink, letting the silence stretch out between them. "I saw Rhiannon," he added somewhat nonsensically. "When I was coming back. She said she was okay too. I think we all will be."

He lapsed into wordlessness again, looking at the brown glass of his beer bottle. Did she blame him? Blame him the way he blamed himself? Could he still be a protector to her if she thought he could have saved Hannah? He wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that. Or was he just doing what the Slayer had accused him of, flagellating himself for nothing?

"I liked her," he said finally, still inching towards being able to say her name. "She was nice to me."

"She saved my life," Julie said, looking at her beer and exaggerating only a little. "Brad had me prisoner, I would have died or been broken. Hannah, Mallory, Devin and Kris all risked their lives to help me get out and end it once and for all. I owed her my life."

Julie took another deep sip of her beer and stared at the bartop. Hannah had risked everything to help someone she'd only known a few months, and Julie had let her friend down.

"Hannah was one of my best friends and I wasn't there for her when she needed me." Her voice hitched, and she could feel the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Julie hadn't had a good cry over her friend's death yet and the werewolf knew it wouldn't be much longer before she was a sobbing wreck, bawling her eyes out.

Connor shook his head, swiveled on his seat after setting his bottle down. "Not your fault," he said, looking at Julie where she sat so close to him. "You didn't even know. Talking about what you should have done is just beating yourself up for no reason."

He smiled a little, feeling the corners of his mouth lifting tiredly. "She was the bravest woman I ever saw. We didn't know what we were gonna find in there, how bad it would be. But she wasn't scared. When you spend most of your life protecting yourself with your fists and with weapons, you kind of forget there's other ways to be brave."

He held up his hands so that the werewolf could see them, callused palms facing outwards, and one of them came to rest on her upper arm. He could almost smell the salt of her unshed tears, briny and grief-laden. He didn't know what she thought of him now, but he, at least, was her friend. He wanted it to stay that way.

"Not that this means much, but I'm not going anywhere. You know that, right?"

"Sure you will," Julie sniffled, not feeling particularly charitable or rational. "You're a good guy, just like Matthew, just like Judah. They both were interested. They both went away." Granted, she'd sent Judah away, but there was no way he'd have survived in the 21st century and she couldn't have lived in the turn of the 20th. "Devon was a friend and a mentor, and he went away too. At least he did more than leave a note."

She turned to look into his eyes, his hand still on her arm. "I like you Connor, you're a great guy. But if you're going to leave like the rest, tell me now before I get in any deeper."

Connor just shook his head, sliding farther off of his seat. He had wanted to run, he supposed, to get out of Searchlight in the immediate aftermath of Hannah's death, but sitting out in the baking heat of the desert while he thought about it had led him to the realization that this was where he needed to be. And the conversation with Rhiannon had only reinforced that. Where would he go, back home? Back to school, like nothing had ever happened?

No. He was over the need to run, had gone beyond it. There was so much to be done here, and there were people he had come to like and rely on. People like Julie. Who could predict what would happen? Not him. The Destroyer's tennis shoes touched the floor noiselessly as he stood up, and he moved the hand on the werewolf's arm so that he could encircle her shoulders with his own arm.

"There's no place I need to be but here," he said, hugging her despite his sunburn, despite the damned sand in his shirt. Not everything was lost. Not even him. He could still be a protector, her protector. She felt so tiny against his chest. "If it's okay with you. And I think it's what Hannah would have wanted."

There. He'd finally said her name.

When he pulled her into his arms, Julie finally lost control. The werewolf sobbed against his chest, letting her grief come to the surface unrestrained. Hannah and Mallory were her two closest friends, like sisters really, and now Hannah was gone. She hadn't known the blonde was in trouble, and probably wouldn't have been able to do anything even if she had, but the werewolf regretted the fact she hadn't been there just the same.

She mourned Hannah, a vivacious young woman who had died much too soon.

Connor stood silent, his body trying to shield Julie's as she wept. The hand not on the small of her back touched the clean strands of her dark hair, and he just breathed in her scent, wolf and woman all wrapped up in one. She was hurting, and when someone was hurting you were supposed to comfort them, the way no one had ever comforted him. He could do a better job now from having been failed before.

"That's okay," he finally said, speaking over the muted noise of her sobs, his words barely more than a mumble. "You go ahead and do that. I won't tell." His chin was resting on the top of her head, and he closed his eyes, doing his own mourning despite already having shed his tears. He was still here. They both were. And wherever Hannah Flynn had gone, he hoped that she was at peace.

"We remember her. Not just us, but others too. That'll keep part of her with us."

Julie nodded against his chest, still crying. Eventually the sobs gave way to sniffles and the werewolf pulled back enough to pull out her bar rag and wipe her eyes. She would continue to grieve for Hannah, probably for a long time to come, but the rough edges of her grief had been smoothed over and she could function without being on autopilot now.

She looked up at Connor's face and smiled up at him, her eyes still a bit watery. "Thank you," she told him softly, and tempted fate by standing up on her tiptoes and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. She wasn't quite sure where she stood with him, and this would tell the tale. Were they going to just be friends, or would they be something more? Maybe she was rushing things, but one lesson she was already taking from Hannah's death was to not put things off until tomorrow.

Tomorrow might not be there.

He blinked down at her, a sort of dim confusion coloring his expression, and then the left corner of his mouth lifted as he shook the hair out of his face.

"Hi there." And he didn't let himself examine it, because to start thinking would be not to act, he just lowered his mouth to hers and gave her a kiss of his own. He was sunburned and there was way too much sand in his clothes, but the worst part of the last couple of weeks was over now. Julie was warm and soft against him, and this town had become home.

He didn't maintain the contact as long as he otherwise might have, but he held it for long enough. Straightening up, he rested his chin on the top of the werewolf's head again, then drew back so that he could make eye contact with her. He pushed the hair off of his forehead again, smiling sheepishly.

"I really need a shower," he said apologetically. "I feel like I'm wearing half of the desert. Sorry if I got you all sandy."

"You'd probably be better off taking a cool bath, with that sunburn." Julie pointed out, her practical side coming out. She felt like there were a thousand butterflies in her stomach from the kiss of Connor's lips. So...they were more than just friends then... good. "It would probably feel better than a shower."

The grief she felt over Hannah's death was still there, but she had the feeling Hannah didn't want her moping around and kicking herself. She would have wanted her to live her life, and after that good cry Julie felt capable of trying to do that.

"Don't worry about me, just be glad I showered when I got back from Whistler's trailer." The werewolf shrugged sheepishly "Two weeks as a wolf without a bath? I was pretty ripe."

"I'm glad you didn't kill him," Connor said, taking a half-step backwards. "I wouldn't want you to have to cope with that on top of everything else." He rubbed the back of his neck, gestured towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

"I'm gonna go get a bath, and then I'm gonna crash and get some sleep. Maybe in a couple of days we can do something, though it might be too late to go out to the lake now. But I would like to just hang out with you. Think we could find the time for it?"

Julie smiled shyly and nodded. "I'd like that...I'll make the time."

She was glad that she hadn't killed Whistler either, and that she hadn't bit him. The last thing she wanted was the blood of an innocent on her hands or to pass her curse on to someone else. The past few weeks had reinforced the need for her to learn to control herself more, she'd let herself be manipulated into nearly tearing the throat out of an innocent man.

Things had been bad since she'd been told of her friend's death, but there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Breaking the News

"Go! go! go!" Julie cheered at the TV as the Arizona Diamondbacks' player rounded third and was running for all he was worth for home plate. Things had been slow at the Lighthouse this evening and the werewolf was perched on one of the barstools, watching her team destroy the opponents. So far the Diamondbacks were up 7-2 and it was only the sixth inning.

"Yes!" She pumped her fist in the air as the player touched home plate, sending the Diamondbacks up to a six point lead. Baseball hadn't been her thing in the past, but working in a bar had led her to develop a certain appreciation for professional sports. It was either that or go crazy since the TVs were always set to one game or another, it was unavoidable.

Connor had inched back to the Lighthouse, wanting to put off being back as long as possible. If he was very lucky, the place would be closed and Julie would have gone upstairs to bed. He had no idea of what time it was. He didn't want to tell her. He wanted to dig himself a hole and crawl into it for a thousand years.

But the lights were still on, and he heard the excited voice of a sports announcer when he opened the door to step inside. Nothing could ever go right, could it? He let the door bang shut behind him, then crossed the room to step behind the counter and fish around in one of the coolers for a bottle of beer.

He opened it without a word, and the cap hit the wooden counter with a soft clinking noise as he took a drink he couldn't taste. He felt gutted, as if someone had stabbed him and then yanked out all of his insides. Only the joke was on him, because they'd done it and then left him alive so that he could feel every nerve end screaming. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be anywhere.

"That's too loud, can you turn it down a little?" he asked Julie in a hollow voice. Because if she didn't, he very well might throw the bottle in his hand through the screen, and Jo wouldn't like that. He'd never been more tired or used up. Another drink of beer, and his voice was still flat when he said, "I have something I have to tell you."

"C'mon, you know better than to swing for his fastball!" Julie protested at the next player on the TV, shaking her head in frustration.

When the door had opened, the werewolf glanced to see who it was and then promptly returned her attention to the game when she saw it was Connor. He wasn't a customer and could take care of himself.

It wasn't until he spoke to her that Julie gave him her full attention. One look and she could tell something had happened. He was disheveled and looked like he'd been in some kind of fight. Without another word, the werewolf hit the mute button and ignored the complaints of the few customers that were in the bar and actually watching the game.

"You look like hell, what's up?" Her expression was one of concern, concern for him. She knew he'd been going through some difficult times lately, though she wasn't exactly sure what was the cause and didn't want to invade his privacy.

He barely looked at her. But there were people in here, strangers, and strangers didn't deserve to know what had happened. "We should talk in the storeroom," he said, and moved out from behind the bar to head towards that door so they could have some privacy. He was sick of strangers.

The storeroom was cooler than the main area of the bar, but his shiver had nothing to do with the chill. His skin was crawling. He wasn't going to be able to sleep here tonight. Maybe he would wander out into the desert once this was done and find a spot to curl up in. No one would miss him.

Julie wanted to protest about leaving customers by themselves in the bar, but there was something in his eyes that stilled the comment before it could come to her lips. She wasn't sure what it was, but something had happened.

The werewolf turned to the room at large. "Everybody, I need to go into the store room for just a minute, just yell if you need anything ok?" After the few customers present acknowledged her instructions she turned back to Connor and followed him into the storeroom.

"Okay, spill it." She stared at him and crossed her arms underneath her breasts. "What's got you so worked up?" His behavior was starting to worry her.

Worked up. Connor wished he was worked up, because that would mean that he felt something other than this...numbness. It was like someone had given him a full-body dose of Novocaine, and he was doing good to still be on his feet instead of in a boneless heap on the floor. He took another tasteless drink, set the half-empty bottle down on a box.

"I was over at Whistler's," he said, feeling her standing close by even without looking at her. There was still sand on the knees of his jeans, and he brushed at it indifferently. "He was fucked in the head. Me and Rhiannon went over there to kick some ass, clear things up. There'd been gunshots. All the neighbors were hanging around, but no one was willing to do anything."

He was speaking in a disjointed fashion, staring a hole through the floor while he talked. He wanted to be nowhere at all. "Hannah...Hannah said she wanted to go in with us. I knew it was a bad idea. I should have said no. One of us should have, anyway."

He squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't taken a full breath since leaving the Agent's trailer, and the shallowness of his breathing was beginning to take its toll. He looked at Julie once, then dropped his gaze back to the concrete floor. "I couldn't save her."

Julie had listened out of concern for Connor at first, trying to understand what had gotten him so upset. She didn't know Whistler personally, or Rhiannon, who had been Matthew's Slayer, but knew of them.

It was when he mentioned Hannah that she first felt the stirrings of dread in her gut. What had happened? The feelings grew stronger the more Connor talked until he finally uttered those final four words. "Save her?" Her voice was already quavering, surely he couldn't mean what she thought he meant.

"What happened to Hannah, Connor? What did Whistler do to her?"

"She was trying to fix him. Like those guys on television, when they lay hands on people to make them well. Only with Hannah it really worked. She pulled the disease right out of him and took it on herself. She was so little in my arms..."

Connor's voice trailed away into nothingness, and he wanted to bolt, to run from the storeroom and never set foot in the Lighthouse again. But he couldn't move. "She was so little. I carried her outside and it was like hauling a heavy blanket around. I should have stopped her. I could see how sick she was getting. Even in the dark I could see it."

He flinched, then shuddered all over, frozen down to the core of himself. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so very sorry."

"No!" the words were ripped from her throat, the werewolf felt as if someone had stabbed her in the gut and twisted the knife, repeatedly. Her legs buckled and she fell to her knees. "No..."

Hannah couldn't be dead. This was all some kind of sick joke, and once she got over the shock she'd knock Connor's block off and then call her friend.

One of her best friends. Hannah had been there for her along with Devon, Mallory, and Kris, when she needed help the most. How could she not be there for Hannah? It had to be a lie.

But Connor had no reason to lie to her.

"No..." she shook her head wildly, tears starting to streak down her cheeks.

He couldn't even comfort her, he was too hollowed out. He wanted to, he wanted to put his hands on her shoulders and tell her that Hannah wasn't in any pain now and that he was there for her. But it was as if someone had unplugged his emotions and filled the space with a terrible blankness. His fault. He should have done something.

"I'm so very sorry." It was a whisper, one that only the werewolf's ears would be able to hear, and he wished that the nothingness inside of him would expand into a nothingness that he could hide inside of. So that he could be alone with himself.

"I can't be here." He gestured around them at the shelves and boxes, feeling as if he had spiders under his skin. "I'm gonna sleep outside tonight, probably. I told him that I would tell you, that's the only reason I came back. But I can't be here."

Julie barely listened to what he said, audible over her own sobs through her enhanced hearing. It had to be some kind of sick joke, a nightmare, anything but what Connor was telling her.

But she knew it wasn't, and nothing would ever be the same again. Hannah had been like a sister to her and now that surrogate sister was dead.

"Where is she?" she finally asked, sniffling. The werewolf wiped her face with her apron and looked at Connor. If she were thinking more clearly at that moment she might try to comfort him, but all she could think about was seeing Hannah one last time, making sure someone took care of her and notified her family.

Then she'd pay Whistler a visit. Her eyes flashed golden with the thought of it.

"I don't know where she is. Whistler took her somewhere. He didn't bring her back." Connor rubbed his face. His eyes felt grainy, as if they had as much sand in them as his jeans did. Tonight he would sleep in the open air and try not to dream. "I asked too. I didn't get an answer."

Someone had turned the television up in the next room, and the noise of it grated across his raw nerves. He took two steps towards Julie, almost walked past her, then brushed his hand across her shoulder before letting it rest there for the space of five beats of his heart.

"I'm sorry. I can't be here at all. The top of my head's about to come off. If you don't see me tomorrow, don't be surprised."

Julie nodded mutely, and reached up to pat his hand on her shoulder. She was grateful that he'd stopped long enough to tell her. The werewolf still couldn't quite believe that Hannah was gone, and there wouldn't even be a body for her grandmother to bury.

It was all Whistler's fault. Because of him Hannah had gotten sick, and he'd taken her away.

"Where is Whistler?" She wanted to talk to him, wanted to understand. The wolf inside her was whispering she should confront him, tear out his throat and feast on his entrails but she tried to ignore it.

He took her friend away and she wanted an explanation.

"I don't know where he is either. Still at home, I guess. I really don't care." There was no space to care about such trivial matters right now, not amid the ache. Connor pulled his hand away from Julie's shoulder, stood in the doorway between the storeroom and the main area of the bar.

"I'll see you later." Without waiting for a response, the Destroyer turned and walked back the way he had come, unmindful of the way the remaining customers stared. The door creaked open, then shut with a click, leaving him alone. Where he wanted to be.

His passing was noticed, but she couldn't bring herself to stop him, try and offer some comfort.

She still had tears, but the sobs had dried up. The werewolf had never quite felt like this before, Julie wouldn't be able to describe it if her life depended on it. It seemed like she was seeing everything through a haze, as if she were partially detached from what was going on.

After several moments, she stood up from the cold tile floor where she'd been kneeling and made her way toward the main area of the bar. "The Bar's closed, everybody out." Closing time wasn't for another two hours, as the few patrons tried to remind her.

Julie didn't care.

The nearest patron was picked up by the shirt collar and frog marched protesting loudly all to the door with a strength her slender frame shouldn't have possessed, and was tossed out headfirst. She didn't bother to look and see how he landed, but turned and looked at the three other men in the bar. "Either you leave on your own or I'll toss you out, your choice. We're closed."

The men stared at her as if they'd never seen her before, which perhaps they hadn't. If Julie were to look in the mirror she would see that her eyes were a bright golden color, and her face twitched as if it weren't quite stable, wanting to change into something else. Her control over her form was being kept only by force of will at that moment...the wolf was using her grief to try and force its way to the surface, and Julie wasn't sure how hard she wanted to fight it.

"I'm waiting..." Julie growled, and the three men hastily left their seats to sprint toward the door. Once the last of them was gone, Julie stepped out herself and locked the door, then started down the street in the direction of the trailer park without a backward glance.