Today was not a good day.

Of course, if you're me, most days are not good days. I'm a professional punching bag for the universe. But today was really not fun, and for once it was not my fault, as I'd gotten ambushed. Unless you really believe that the Red Court is still angry about the Bianca incident some years back, and not just using it to prolong the war in an effort to annihilate the White Council.

Or maybe just me. I'm pretty sure they'd settle happily for just annihiliating me.

So anyway. There I was, hanging upside down from one foot like some twisted parody of a Tarot card, while various thralls piled wood up around my head. Poetic justic— I had set a number of their ilk on fire over the years, so they were going to have themselves a nice little Harry barbecue, fun for the whole family. Woke me up for it, too. Turns out, since cars don't have threshholds, I should not fall asleep on a stakeout when I'm the only one doing it.

However, I'd had a breakfast meeting with Thomas to discuss said stakeout, and when I didn't show up, he must have called in the cavalry.

Just my bad luck that the cavalry shares my sense of humor.

The door burst open, part of the roof fell in and sunlight flooded the room. The one actual vampire gave a rattling scream before collapsing; the thralls huddled away from the light and the intruders. I glanced up—Murphy and Thomas in the doorway—craned my neck—Molly peering through the hole in the roof—and wanted to cry with relief.

"Hi, guys," I began, prepatory to a wiseass remark, but Thomas beat me to it.

"Well, lookee here!" he bellowed. "'Pears we got here just in the nick of time! What does that make us?"

"Big damn heroes, sir!" Murphy and Molly said simultaneously, then Molly added, "Hey! That's my line!"

Thomas, oblivious, continued. "Ain't we just!"

See, this is always how my life goes. I'm hanging from the ceiling, blood rushing to my head, while my best friend, my brother and my apprentice reference science fiction television shows instead of, you know, letting me down.

"You're on the roof and I'm more Zoë-like," Murphy told Molly. "Thomas, quit overacting and let Harry down."

Both Thomas and Molly objected to that, loudly and at the same time.

"I'm not gonna be Jayne! I don't want to be Jayne!"
"Hey, I am not overacting."

Murphy ignored both of them and settled serenely into guarding the thralls in their huddled bunch.

I groaned. "Guys, could you maybe quit fighting and let me down?"

"Yeah," Molly said. "He's our witch, so cut him the hell down, Thomas."
My brother rolled his eyes, and asked, "Now who's the line hijacker?"

"Guys!" I said again, louder. "Did you all watch that episode just so you could mock me? And Molly, the correct term is wizard. Witch is for Wiccans and people who read too much Harry Potter."

Molly rolled her eyes. "No," she said. "I'll have you know we came straight here. Thomas has it memorized."

"I do not." He was dragging wood out of the way, though, so I didn't feel right snapping at him. "You do. Harry, really, you should speak to your apprentice about laying blame on other people."
"Murphy," I pleaded. "Help me."

"They're doing a good job," she replied. "Besides, it's amusing to listen to."

I groaned again. "Murph, I'm starting to see things."

She lifted an eyebrow, still smiling serenely. "This is new for you?"

"Murph..."

She laughed, but added "Cut it out, you two. Molly, go and see if Stallings has shown up yet, will you? We've actually got people to arrest this time, so I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you."

Molly grumbled, but vanished, and Thomas went hunting for the other end of the rope that was holding me up. "What'd you do this time?" he asked me.

"Fell asleep at the wrong moment." The little black coruscating dots were starting to obscure my vision. "You can get me down any time now."

"I've got to find the... ha! Here it is! Now, let's..."

I felt a sudden falling sensation, and then a painful thump. "Motherfucker!"

Murphy gave me a look of mild annoyance. "Language."

"Sometimes you just gotta swear," Thomas said. "Come on, Harry, let's get you up."

The ankle I'd been hanging from complained as soon as I put any weight on it. This was actually good, since it was the first feeling I'd had in it since I woke up. "Ow," I said. "Ow. That hurts."

"Well, isn't that good?" Thomas said, brightly.

"Thomas?" I asked, leaning all my weight on him in a subtle act of revenge.

"Yes?"

"I hate you."
Murphy snorted.

"Glad to hear it," Thomas said. "If you're well enough to hate me then you're well enough to go lie in the car and be ironical."
I rolled my eyes. "If you keep that up, I will end you."

Thomas grinned. "Don't the Bible have some pretty specific things to say about killing?"

"Thomas!"