Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow. But I'm enjoying tormenting the characters in my made-up supernatural world.

A/N: Mentions of a (perceived) suicide, not described, but just want to warn. If anything comes off as insensitive to those who've dealt with the situation, let me know and please give me pointers on how to better portray the scenario. Thanks for reading.

Starring:

Colin Donnell, Stephen Amell, Katie Cassidy, David Ramsey, Willa Holland, Audrey Marie Anderson and Megalyn Echikunwoke

Guest Starring:

Evan Roderick, Paul Blackthorne, Carly Pope, Roger Cross, Jessica de Gouw, Louis Ferreira, Susana Thompson, Venus Terzo, Austin Butler, Terrell Ransom Jr. (JJ Diggle)

Part One

Nick Anastas hurried along in the underground parking lot, a bag of groceries in his arms. He glanced around furtively, looking for someone watching him. He saw no one. Still, the hairs on the back of his neck were on edge. He reached the elevator and pressed the button to call the cart down. The counter stayed on floor six. Nick poked the button in swift succession until the counter started decreasing.

He shuffled into the cart and thumbed floor four. As the elevator doors shut, Nick slammed back into the far wall. For a second, he would've sworn he'd seen it. The monstrous red face that tailed him in the garage – it smirked at him, inches from the doors. Then the garage was cut off and the cart quickly rising.

A strange melody started playing immediately. Like a song in a ballerina box, only more haunting. The soft music chimed until the elevator stopped. First floor. The doors opened. Another tenant lumbered in, reeking of booze with a fresh bottle in hand. The man was so drunk he had to lean against wall to stay upright. It took him three tries to hit floor five. The doors shut, and the music began again.

"Where's that coming from? How do we make it stop?" Nick asked the other man. He looked around for the source of the eerie music.

"Huh?" the drunk replied.

"The music!" Nick scrubbed his ears as a sharp note entered the melody.

"What music?"

The elevator reached floor four. The music ceased as the doors popped open. Nick didn't bother to respond, he escaped into the safety of the hall. The elevator doors closed, the drunk shaking his head in exasperation. Nick headed for his apartment. Shifting his bags into one arm, he pulled out his keys.

He heard the low, threatening growl behind him. Toe-nails clinking on the laminate floor, picking up speed. He ran for his door, dropping the groceries in his haste. The beast barked, toes scrabbling, as Nick jammed his key into the lock. He flung his door open, jumped inside, and slammed the door shut. He waited for the brute to ram his door, to howl at his defeat. None came. Carefully, Nick eased his door open to peek out.

There was no black dog in the hall. Only his strewn groceries littered the floor. Nick shut his door and sunk to his haunches. He covered his face with his palms. Was he losing it? No, no he wasn't. He bit back a sob. How had his life come down to this? It was just stress from his job. It had to be. All he needed was a break from work, and from his apartment. Nick rose, to collect his groceries, and make some plans. Things would be better in the morning.

A hand reached for him from the shadow behind his couch. Nick yelped and scrabbled away. An arm followed the hand and then a second hand appeared. Nick dashed to his kitchen. There was another shadow-creature clawing out of the darkness cast from his table. Nick snatched up a kitchen knife.

"Stay away from me! Stay away!"

Blood splattered on the floor.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy Merlyn woke with an image in his mind, that of an oversized head. The head was egg-shaped and red with exaggerated features. Thick black eyebrows, mountainous cheek bones, and a bulbous nose with a tiny frowning mouth. The image freaked him out some, but also made him want to laugh.

Once he was fully awake, he pushed the image out of his mind. He pulled a pill bottle out of his nightstand. With a precision knife he quartered one of the pills and swallowed a fourth with the glass of water he kept on hand. He brushed the three remaining pieces into another bottle to carry throughout the day, taking as needed. Then he showered and changed, slipped the quartered-pill bottle into his pocket, and headed down for breakfast. The melody of a jewelry box echoed in his head, but he ignored the song. His medicine hadn't taken affect yet.

"Tommy," Oliver caught him in the parlor. The Queen had his signature sunglasses on top of his head – his mom didn't appreciate him wearing his shades to meals. Luckily, the angel could handle short periods of time without his cover; "Have you had any visions lately?"

"No, not really," Tommy answered cheerfully. Oliver looked worried, so Tommy let him in on the secret; "I've found a way to stop them."

"You have?" Oliver sounded dubious.

"I kept looking for a magical cure to my abilities. Then it hit me. Even if the root of my visions lies in magic, there's still a biological component – my brain. I've started taking small doses of antipsychotics, which has reduced my nightmares to zero."

"Tommy, I'm not sure that's wise."

"Why not? I'm sleeping well, not seeing things I shouldn't. It's exactly what I wanted. As for the meds, don't worry. I know what I'm doing. I'm the doctor, remember."

Tommy started for the dining room. Oliver grabbed his arm. For a second, Oliver's eyes did more than just flash white. Oliver emanated an aura of pure energy and Tommy glimpsed the humanoid-shaped angel which resided in his friend. Then Oliver reigned in his emotions and appeared as just Oliver again. Albeit a more worried, upset Oliver. "I thought you understood the importance of your gift. That you can't just walk away from your responsibilities, from the people who need your help."

"I'm a doctor, Oliver. That's how I help people. I heal them. I don't commune with their dead spirits or battle monsters. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have breakfast before my first day at work."

Tommy pulled free of Oliver's grip. He stalked to the dining room, not as happy as he'd been before. Oliver's disappointment followed him, but Tommy remained convinced his way was best. He wanted nothing to do with the other worlds. He would keep to his pills and help people with real medicine.

SR*SR*SR

Hilton let Dinah drive them to the crime scene. Neither of them commented on how familiar a drive it was for her. The first officer on the scene filled them in as they walked down the hall. A bag of groceries had been shoved to the side and picked over. Dinah stepped over a squashed orange, wrinkling her nose at a scent underneath the pungent citrus.

"Vic's name is Nick Anastas, twenty-four. Lives alone in the apartment. His sister dropped by as she hadn't heard from him in a few days. She had a spare key, let herself in. Found the body."

"Thank you, officer. We'll take it from here," Lucas sent the patrolman out with a smile. Dinah barely tilted her head, already analyzing the scene.

The medical examiner was present, probing the body. The smell was stronger in the apartment and not the scent of a fresh corpse. No, this was something sickly sweet, but neither her partner nor the doctor appeared to notice. Otherworldly then. Dinah discreetly checked around the apartment for the source.

"What do we got?" Lucas asked.

"From the angle and direction of the wounds, I'd say a suicide," the examiner held up one arm for proof, retracing the direction of the kitchen knife; "I'll know more after autopsy."

"CSU will need to check the blade for prints, but I'd say this is straightforward. No signs of forced entry or a struggle," Lucas reviewed the public areas of the one-room apartment. Dinah stepped into the bathroom and bedroom, looking for anything out of place or pill bottles. She reported neither and failed to find the source of the reek.

They left the apartment to talk with the sister. The first responders had to call a bus for the woman who'd been severely distraught over her brother; "Listen, Lance, this case isn't going to be pretty. We aren't likely to walk away with any real answers for those left behind."

"I know that, it's part of the job," Dinah let some puzzlement into her tone as they waited on the elevator.

"What I mean is, I can interview the sister alone. You could always help the officers canvasing for witnesses," Lucas offered. They entered the elevator, but he didn't immediately hit the button for the first floor.

"I have to learn some time and I wouldn't want to step on the officers' toes," she answered and pressed the button for them; "Thank you. For the offer. Dad wouldn't want me to scrimp on the work just to visit him."

"Understood. Good to see you inherited your dad's dedication to the job," he complimented.

Dinah barely refrained from rolling her eyes. And here Lucas had been doing such a great job with not making the father-daughter comparisons.

SR*SR*SR

There were a lot of tears and outright denials from the sister. Dinah was relieved when the paramedics ended the interview to sedate the hysterics and transport the sister to the hospital. She wasn't sure how much more of the agony she could endure – faking sympathy, even professionally-distant sympathy, was exhausting. There was a reason she eschewed emotional attachments, the drama alone would easily drive one to an early grave.

A few of Nick's neighbors were available for questioning. Dinah told Hilton she needed a few minutes to recover from dealing with the sister. He promised she'd learn to handle the grief better with experience and headed up to start the interviews alone. Dinah walked back to their car, dropping her act of 'emotionally worn-out' as she went. She leaned against the passenger side door and waited, playing an app on her phone in boredom.

A small crowd had gathered once they realized something tragic had brought the police out. A barrier held the riffraff back as they whispered and gawked. The departure of the bus had caused a few to leave in disappointment. Those that stuck around lit up when the body bag was carted out a couple minutes later. Even in the maelstrom of morbid fascination and several otherworldly bystanders, there was no mistaking one specific presence in the vicinity.

Soon enough, said presence snuck around the barricade and joined Dinah at the car. "You know, you're in violation of several penal codes right now," the demon smirked beneath her shades.

"Arrest me then," Thea Queen snarked back.

"What do you want, hunter?"

"There was another death in the building. Was it a tenant? Murder?"

"It's an ongoing investigation. I'm afraid I can't share details with the public at this time," Dinah took great pleasure in delivering that standard phrase.

"I'm not here as a concerned citizen," Thea retorted hotly.

"I'm still a cop, kid. There are rules I have to follow," Dinah replied, serious. Thea huffed. "Fine. We still need to talk, but not here. There's more going on at this building."

Dinah snorted. She didn't need an upstart hunter to tell her that. Still, it wouldn't hurt to see what the littlest Queen knew. "There's a Big Belly Burger a block west from here. Meet me there at one. We'll talk then."

Thea nodded, then scurried away. Dinah pocketed her phone and sunglasses. She sighed as she headed back inside. Time to play novice detective again.

SR*SR*SR

No cellphones. No firearms. No touching. These words were painted in bold black on the egg-yoke yellow walls. As if the guards hadn't already divested him of the first and checked for the second. Oliver certainly wasn't going to do the third. Not with the woman he'd come to visit. Not that those who truly knew Helena Bertinelli would call her a woman.

Oliver waited on the bolted down bench at the equally bolted table. Less than half a dozen other families shared the visitation room with him. He'd enacted a small visual-inducement to make the tables nearest him unappealing, ensuring they wouldn't be overheard. Helena smirked as she sauntered over to him in a less-than-flattering peach jumpsuit. She'd taken a deal, plead guilty to a lesser charge for a reduced sentence in a county jail as opposed to a stint upstate in Iron Heights Prison. One could hardly tell with how she acted, like she owned the place – considering her power level, she probably did control the underbelly at this point.

"My, my, my. The great Oliver Queen. Here to visit little old me," Helena pressed a hand to her chest as if she were about to faint. Her eyes though were brittle ice; "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Your sisters have gone quiet again, but I know they aren't sitting on their hands, waiting for you. What are they up to?"

"Now, now," Helena rested her chin on crossed fingers; "We wouldn't want to spoil your dinner with dessert."

"You forget, Helena. I've been around a while. I know the outcome you desire," Oliver fed on a trickle of his power. Enough to send the witch blinking and dropping her gaze.

"So I'd heard. If you know everything, what do you need me for?"

"To provide the finer details."

"Now, why would I do that? So you can stop us? Not much of a deal compared to the offer my master has made."

"Your deal comes with a steep price. I can free you from that price."

"Maybe you can, but I doubt you would, and your word means nothing to me," Helena tossed her dark hair, then leaned forward conspiratorially and dropped her voice; "I promise you this, angel. You'll live to see my dream fulfilled. When I have the power I'm due, I will make you suffer for the pains you've caused me. You and your sister, the mutt and the unblood, and even your pet prophet. Dr. Merlyn, I believe?"

Helena's teeth gleamed viciously as she leaned back. Oliver maintained a passive façade – anger bubbling deep inside at the threats. His lack of reaction disappointed her, and she went to continue, but he cut her off.

"We'll see. But earning your power will be hard to do rotting inside a cell."

"Oh, what's a little incarceration to a witch?" Helena shrugged casually, back to her royal airs.

Oliver signaled to the guard. He left as another guard collected Helena. Her final taunt rang in his ears; "The time has come, Ollie!"

SR*SR*SR

Since being called as a hunter, Thea had been to unusual places in and around Seattle. She'd seen some scary and downright horrifying things. She'd conducted odd business meetings in ritzy hotels, reeking back alleys, and random spots in the woods with allies, informants, and the occasional enemy. She'd beheaded, slashed, and dusted her way out of a variety of live-or-die situations. Yet none of that prepared her for her current encounter.

Thea had been to Big Belly Burger before, if not this specific location. She enjoyed the greasy, high-calorie food which combated her hyperactive metabolism. She'd decompressed after many hunts, gorging herself in such joints. So, it wasn't the location that bothered her.

She'd made deals with demons before. She'd even slayed a few, though most of the time the slimy spirits were hard to pin-down long enough to properly vanquish – because of course exorcisms only worked in the movies. So, meeting a demon to swap intel, not that big of a deal. Sometimes, their interests aligned like that.

And confronting a face from her past who wasn't who they used to be. Yeah, Thea was practically a pro at that anymore. The highlights included an angelic brother she still wanted to throttle from time to time, a homicidal ex-boyfriend who was an elf she had to behead, and a mentor who turned out to be a cursed giant. Her brother's ex-girlfriend currently being possessed, no problemo.

It must've been the combination that unsettled her so. How she walked into the causal eatery to find Dinah had beaten her there. Not only that, but how relaxed Dinah appeared in the booth, joking with other patrons like she was a regular there. The demon seemed so human in that moment. She reminded Thea of Laurel, the woman who should've been living that life. And that made Thea livid and sad and conflicted, so she hung back until Dinah caught her eye and pointed to the seat across from her.

Thea stalked over. "Don't glower at me, hunter. You're the one who requested this meeting." At Dinah's signal, a well-heaped plate and drink appeared in front of Thea. She didn't want to accept food from a demon, but it smelled wonderful and she was super hungry. She see-sawed and nibbled on a fry. Dinah chomped down on her own meal, sipped her milkshake, and asked; "You have information for me?"

"Will you at least confirm someone died at the building today? I don't need details or whatever on an open case," Thea replied frostily.

"Technically, it was late last night, but yes, there was a corpse this morning," Dinah matched her frigid tone.

"Did it seem otherworldly to you?"

"I though you were going to be sharing, not pumping me for information."

"I'm trying to confirm a suspicion with the cooperation of an aware witness," Thea answered. Dinah simply arched an eyebrow and dipped a fry in her shake. "Fine. Did you know this is the sixth death in that complex in the last month? Two heart attacks, another suicide, and a murder-suicide."

"It's a rough neighborhood," Dinah shrugged, eating another milkshake-coated fry.

"There have also been ten felony arrests of people with no previous records. Seven evictions after well-to-do families suddenly lost all income. Some people are claiming the building's haunted and the otherworldies I know around here have become leery of the place."

"Have you investigated?"

"Of course," Thea scowled at the insult; "I haven't scented anything with the necessary ability to cause this broad of problems, but something is definitely off with the place."

Dinah titled her head a smidge in acknowledgment. So, the demon had sensed something after all. "This problem will need more than one head to resolve it. Your brother's still babysitting the green bean, so what you do say to being frenemies for this one case?"

She held out a pinkie to swear by. Thea worked her jaw – that was Laurel's move. Still, the demon had a point. Thea crooked her pinkie and they shook on it.

A/N_2: To be clear, Nick didn't commit suicide, it just looks that way, but if I need to portray this better, let me know. Thanks.