Okay, here is the full summary and a few little explanations...
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine!
Full summary:
It had been a perfectly fine day for Harry. Perfectly fine week, in fact... Until, out of the blue, came Murphy with a case involving Sandmen, (yes, it's plural,) and slaughtered children. Okay, fine. He was sure he could handle this as long as it didn't turn out to be anything really bad and didn't need to invole the Council. It was Jonas he couldn't handle, or in the very least couldn't stand. Jonas, who was somehow here, now, in this time period, looking the same, apparently, as he always had.
Jonas, who had been alive when Bob was.
Who had been Bobs' apprentice.
Who had been the very same man who had cursed him to be what he was.
And only half of his reason was the part Bob had told him about. The other half, now that was something he was kind of confused about. He certainly hadn't expected it.
Oh, and he hated this man. He hated him with venom. And that was even before they found out what he was here for. What he was planning to do.
Well, this was going to be a fun week. Or month. Or even year, perhaps, he didn't know how long this one would take. And it had all been going so well, too...
And now for the explanations! Yay, explanations! :
Okay, hi there. Yes, I am back, and I am very, very, very sorry for not writing for so long, but I seem to have come to a complete writers block with everything else I have done here. For which I prostrate myself before you and beg for forgiveness. And patience. Patience is good, right?
Now, as far as this here goes, I guess it could have gone well with either the books or the show, but I decided to use the show because, to be frank, I do enjoy the books, but Bob is my favorite character in the show. The books? Not so much. I've just never liked the idea of a talking skull whose jaw moves whenever it speaks. For some reason that has always looked ridiculous to me. And if you look at the show and the books side by side, it's like they're almost two different animals. The books have a lot of kind of unnecesary and often silly bits to them, whereas the show is a bit more beleiveable. Also, Bob isn't so annoying in the show.
Anyways, I digress. This story was something that came up out of nowhere, with nothing to start me off except a sudden idea that refused to leave. I rated it as such to be on the safe side, since I have no idea where I'm going with this at all. I'm just writing as I go along, however my brain sees fit.
For those of you who don't like this sort of thing, this means that, although it isn't a major factor in my idea, it has surfaced up here and there, after which I carefully push it back down and try to move on. The 'this' I'm referring to? Posible m/m thing with Bob and Harry. It won't be prominent if it does worm it's way in here, and will probably only be marginally addressed, but I will let you know it might be there. Emphasis on MIGHT.
This idea sprung up from the weird little other idea I had about Jonas, who, if you've read the summary, is the established villian here. I won't tell you the weirdness, but there you go.
As for my fans who are only reading this because I haven't written anything else lately, if there are any people like that at all, you probably won't have a clue what's going on most of the time unless you've at least read the books or something. Sorry. In regards to my other stuff... Yeah... I have no idea what'll be going on with any of it.
Sorry, again, but that's all I can think to say here. Please enjoy! ~NS~
Sand
ch.1
Bob stood quietly in front of the parlour window, hands clasped behind his back, and studied the stars. He was trying to pick out of his memories all of the constellations and individual stars he remembered the names of, and was wondering if he could teach this to his new apprentice. Who, by the sound of the squeaky floorboard behind him, was trying his best to tiptoe into the room.
"Bob?" he all but whispered.
Bob turned to the thirteen year old and smiled. "Harry? It's late, shouldn't you be in bed?" He was met with an expression that said it all. "Ah. Was your uncle telling you stories again?" Harry nodded. "I see..." Bob crouched in front of him so they were eye to eye and said, "Harry. I assure you, whatever stories Justin has been telling you, none of them are true. He just has bad taste in what to tell children before they go to bed."
"I know, but I still can't sleep..."
"I'm afraid I can't be much use there. Being a ghost isn't all it's cracked up to be at times."
Harry swallowed and said, shyly, "Could I... Maybe bring you upstairs? Just for tonight? And... Maybe you can tell me a better story?"
Bob was touched. This was the first time he had been asked to do this. "Well... I don't see why not."
There was noise in the adjoining room. Justin was talking on the phone, and by the tone of his voice, he was not pleased. Harry jumped at the sound, and, in a second touching gesture, he grabbed Bobs' skull and hugged it tightly against him with both arms backing toward it's usual occupant. His back was inches away from Bobs' front, and he smiled again and looked down at him.
"Harry." Harry tilted his head backward to look up at him. "I believe we were heading upstairs, yes?" He smiled, and it was returned, and then Bob dispersed into his skull and allowed himself to be brought up to the bedroom.
When they got to the door, he noticed they had abruptly stopped moving. He came out and asked Harry what was wrong. He was staring into the room as though afraid to enter. Embarrassed, he looked at Bob, and then back in, in a pointed direction. "Oh, I see. The bed?" A nod. "Alright..." He chuckled, and went in first. Secretly, though, he was a bit miffed at Justin. A boy Harrys' age shouldn't still be afraid of monsters under the bed.
Doing his best not to fall through the floor, which still occasionally happened for some reason, he knelt next to the offending piece of furniture and proceeded to make a small show of looking underneath it for his apprentice, who looked on fearfully from the doorway, still clutching the skull tightly. "Well. There doesn't seem to be anything to worry about. Here, come and see for yourself..."
Very cautiously, Harry moved forward. "Are you sure?"
"There isn't anything here except some lint and a few of your toys, Harry. Honest."
Harry looked, and was shocked to see Bob suddenly cry out and disappear underneath the bed. "Bob?" he cried, and backed away.
After a second, he felt inclined to look under the bed himself, if only to find out where Bob had gone, and what, if anything, had taken him. He wondered how he could make it give him back...
And then, yelling a fake roar, Bob jumped out at Harry, who yelped, leaped backward, and then started laughing. Bob, laughing with him, said, "You see? Nothing to be afraid of." And had to hide a brief pang of sadness when he realized he felt he should hug the boy, but knew he couldn't. "Now," he said, "Up you get." He stood, and let Harry climb into bed and pull the covers up, curling around Bobs' skull as though it were some kind of morbid teddy bear, and waited for him to get comfortable. Once he had, he asked him what sort of story he'd like to hear.
"One about a dragon!"
"Oh, really? A dragon, eh?"
"And knights."
"Alright, then. Good dragon or bad dragon?"
Harry contemplated this. "Two. One good and one bad."
He laughed. "Really? Alright..." And he began his story.
And, as the first few rays of sunlight hit the thirty-odd year old Harry Dresden, he woke with a grunt from this pleasant dream.
X
Someone was pounding on his door downstairs. He looked at the clock. Seven in the morning. "Ugh..."
"Oh, come, now, Harry, it's about time you started getting up earlier," said a familiar voice, traveling from somewhere downstairs.
"I wanna know who it is before I even open my eyes, Bob."
"If I know that tone of voice, I believe it's Murphy."
"Ah, crap..."
"Harry! I know you're in there! Come on!" Murphy was calling. Apparently, she was already in an unpleasant mood, or she wouldn't be this persistent.
He rolled out of bed and called down, "Yeah, yeah! Come on in!" He waved a hand and unlocked the door, not caring if she noticed this or not.
"I can't, Harry, the door's – locked..." It swung open when she rattled the handle. "Okay, maybe not..."
"Uh, yeah, the catch has been giving me issues, I keep forgetting to get it fixed..." Harry lied as he came down the stairs, trying to look as awake as possible.
"Uh-huh, sure. Wake yourself up. I have a case for you."
"What, you mean you didn't come down just to see me? Ah, Murph...".
"Save it, Harry. And would you mind at least washing your face or something, you look like you ran into a brick wall."
"Sure, hang on." He went to the bathroom and almost laughed at his reflection. He had apparently been sleeping face down, he really did look as though he'd run into a wall. So he splashed some water on himself, used some of it to at least attempt to make his hair lay back in a more presentable manner, and returned to his front room, talking to Murphy while heading toward the kitchen for some coffee.
"So, what's up? Something gruesome?" He turned to look at her, mug in hand, and immediately regretted saying this. That face? Something gruesome, alright.
She brandished a manilla folder. "What do you know about people dying in their sleep?"
He blinked. "Huh?"
"People, Harry. Dying in their sleep, from inside locked rooms, that were fine when they were last checked on."
"Uh... Medical issues? Are you sure this one's for me?"
She threw the folder on the table in front of him. "Read the damn file, Harry."
Giving her a confused look, he turned to said file and opened it. He felt something in him go cold when he saw the first picture.
"Jennifer Marcus. She was six years old," Murphy supplied.
"Wha –"
"Keep looking."
He didn't want to, but he did. Next up was the scene. "Oh, Jesus..."
"Not pretty, Is it?"
"What happened to her?" he said, shocked, "What does the autopsy say?"
"It's on the next page. Some sort of very thin, very strong weapon was used, they think it resembles some sort of wire trap. The kind sick people use to slice up bodies."
"And someone did this to a kid? She's just a baby!"
"She was the seventh victim."
"Oh, God."
"Yeah. So, either Freddy's real and he's bored with screaming, half naked teens, or there's some sick bastard out there who's getting away with this if we don't get your help."
"I don't know what I can do about an actual real version of a horror movie monster, Murph. Besides, isn't there a way you're supposed to bring him out and kill him in the real world? I shouldn't need magic for that."
"Stop making jokes, Harry, this isn't the time. I've been working on this for a while, now, and frankly, I'm tired of seeing little dead children every other day or so. Just get dressed. I'll bring you to the latest scene and see what you make of it."
"Yeah, alright." And with that, he turned and went back to his room, gathered some clothes, went to the bathroom to change, since Murphy could just look up and see him if he changed in his room, and prepared himself for what he already knew was gonna be hell.