Disclaimer: I do not own the World of Darkness, or anything affiliated with it. I just enjoy spending time in the world they created. This is just a non-profit work of fiction, produced by a fan.

A/N: Okay, well here is my third attempt, I believe, at writing something. Let's see how it turns out. Read, review, and enjoy.

Chapter 1: Chance Meeting

Sometimes, I sit down and I try to make sense of everything that's happened. I try to figure out why it happened. Where everything started. What I had missed. In the end, the only conclusion I seem to be able to reach is that life is just a funny thing. Not funny like clowns, or a well told joke. No, this is a more subtle type of humor, like waking up in the middle of the night to take a piss, only to find a swarm of venomous spiders crawling out of your shower drain. Yeah, it's a real fucking riot...

-First undated entry from the journal of Trevor Reed

Month: July / Date: 23rd / Year: 1997

Dear Journal,

Wednesday. I really don't think I need to say much more than that. People can complain all they want about Mondays but me, I think I'm going to stick to disliking Wednesdays. So, my car finally decided to bite it. I wish I could say that it was a surprise, but let's face it, that thing has been running on little more than hope and prayers for a few months now. And as we all know, public transportation is about as enjoyable as having teeth pulled. I've got work tonight, still doing the night janitor gig at the library. Seriously, what kind of job is that? Well, I shouldn't complain, I guess. It was a job no one else seemed to want, so landing it was easy. It's not exactly complicated work either. It's just kind of creepy, I guess. It's a big place, and it gets empty and quiet at night. But, a job's a job, right?

These last few days though... I don't know, just a feeling like I'm being watched while I work. It's got me constantly checking over my shoulder. Probably just me being a bit superstitious, but still. I just can't shake the feeling...

Anyways, I figured I'd take the time to vent a bit before jumping in the shower. I'll probably look back on this next week sometime and laugh. And it's only Wednesday. I still have three days for the week to improve.

-TR

The bus rolled to a stop on the corner with a slight squeal followed by the hissing of the air brakes, before the doors opened. And no sooner had they opened than a young man in jeans and a t-shirt hopped off and took off down the street. He debated checking his watch as he ran, but with the street lights being rather non-cooperative at the moment, leaving the sidewalk he was currently sprinting down in a cloak of shadows, it didn't seem like the best of ideas to add yet another distraction to the mix. After all, his luck was bad enough without tempting it.

He settled for trying to do the math in his head. The bus had been running almost ten minutes late. In the absence of traffic, it had instead hit almost every red light between here and his apartment building. Most of the red lights lasted about eighty-seven seconds, with the major roads being easily double that.

Before he could reach a rough estimate on how late he may be running however, a new problem arose in the form of a discarded beer bottle, which his right foot had managed to come down on. He found himself pitched forward and struggling to maintain his balance against the unrelenting forces of gravity. Realizing quickly this was not a fight he was going to win, he decided to try to minimize the damage done, pitching to his right.

His palm came down hard on the cement, and he knew from the irritating sting that he'd have to be careful handling the cleaning solution tonight. He continued the roll, his shoulder making contact a bit harder than he would have cared for, before rolling onto his back. He actually would have been mostly unharmed, had the back of his head not found the only parking meter for almost fifteen feet.

He lay there for a moment, blinking his eyes, before forcing himself to a sitting position. One hand rubbed the back of his head, while the other moved so he could see his watch. "And of course... Five minutes late, and still delayed..." He muttered to himself, rising to his feet and trying to shake off the mild disorientation that he found often accompanied being hit in the head. He settled on a light jog the rest of the way.


"You're late Reed!" The raspy voice that greeted him belonged to one Mr. Wilson Crestmere. To describe the old man as cantankerous would be a bit of an understatement. "You know, I should fire your worthless ass on the spot, but you're the only one I have to fill this position, so it looks like I'm stuck with you!" Trevor, who was trying to catch his breath, took a brief moment to note that his boss still had his delightfully sunny disposition. "Anyways, the toilet in the women's restroom is clogged up pretty bad. See what you can do about it. And lock up on your way out!" The elderly man had called, hobbling on his stick-like legs towards the exit to the large, gothic themed building.

Trevor merely shook his head, biting back any remarks that happened to cross his mind. He needed this job, and while Mr. Crestmere complained about him, often, and usually at great lengths, he had never fired Trevor, because in the grand scheme of things, Trevor had not yet screwed up bad enough to warrant it. Best not to tempt it.

The janitor's closet lock was stuck, again. So, after a nightly ritual that involved jiggling the keys, pulling on the lock, and finding new and inventive ways to string together a litany of curse words, he finally gained access to the small closet that held the tools of his livelihood. That thought actually caused him to feel quite depressed for a few moments, as he stepped up to the small sink inside, and proceeded to wash the scrape on his hand. As he did so, his eyes found the mirror, and they found the same face they always did staring back at him.

Trevor always found it slightly surreal to look into a mirror. Mostly because he never seemed to see whatever it was most other people seemed to see. He had light brown hair, usually a bit unkempt for a variety of reasons, primary among them was the fact that it was simply unruly. His eyes were a simple brown, and stared at the world through the lenses of a pair of glasses as a result of his astigmatism. Truly a gift that kept on giving. His face today was clean shaven, with only a handful of areas where he had nicked himself, but it was usually somewhere between a five and a seven-fifteen shadow. And that seemed to be all the facial hair he could actually grow. In fact, the only extraordinary thing about him, was the degree to which he was completely ordinary.

So why did people always seem to detest his presence? He shook his head, dismissing the train of thought. He had a job to do, after all. And the first item on that list involved a toilet. Yeah, he hated Wednesdays.


He was taking a quick break in one of the aisles of the non-fiction section, a half-empty bag of Skittles was his only company. He had spent almost twenty minutes trying to get the toilet to act the way it should. And he had finally succeeded, but it was not an easily won battle. "I could have sworn Mr. Crestmere had a daytime janitorial staff. Why couldn't they handle it?" He muttered to himself, popping another Skittle in his mouth before making a displeased face. Seriously, why did they even make grape Skittles? Of course, if he hadn't been in such a hurry, he could have been eating a ham sandwich with a Coke. But nope, both of those were currently sitting in his refrigerator at home. So, facing the option of dining from a vending machine tonight, it came down to Skittles or a Baby Ruth bar.

He folded the bag in half, tucking it into his front pocket, before taking up the mop again. He'd managed to make his way through the children's section, and a good portion of the non-fiction. That left the rest of the non-fiction, and the section with records and what not. Then he had to vacuum the second floor, and clan the windows. As he thought about his to-do list, he found himself retracting his previous statement, as he knew exactly why they would hire a night time janitor.

Sighing heavily, he wrung out the mop, and set it back on the floor, when he got that feeling. It started as a shiver along his back, that settled itself firmly between his shoulder blades, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise. He quickly swiveled his head on his shoulders, peering down the dimly lit aisle only to see no one. Not quite convinced, he kept his gaze on the far end of the aisle, walking backwards as he mopped the floor. The sensation didn't ease up. He was almost at the end of the aisle, and turned his head quickly, stepping past the end of the aisle...

And right into someone. He blinked in shock as a quiet 'eep' sound caught his attention. "Oh, oh geez! Are you okay?" He asked, hurriedly propping the mop against a shelf, and leaning down to help the mystery person up. A mystery person who, upon actual inspection, was a female.

As he helped her up, he was actually a bit surprised. He was not exactly a large individual, standing maybe five-foot-eight, and having a build that was best described as 'scrawy'. But he still had at least half a foot on this woman. Because, yes, as he helped her to her feet, it was obvious she was not a child. Her deep green eyes, or what he could see of them between the curtain of strawberry blonde hair, and the fact that she had them cast to one side shyly, held a certain maturity to them. Much like her face, and her posture.

"Umm... Thank you. Sorry to trouble you, I was just looking for the section on myths and folklore." Her voice was quiet, and Trevor had to strain a bit to hear it. And then afterwards, he found himself chewing on his bottom lip.

"Well, I'm sorry miss, but I'm just the janitor. In fact, the library's supposed to be closed now. I'm surprised Mr. Crestmere forgot to lock the door when he left." He knew he probably should have checked, but he figured it was an easily correctable mistake, and as long as the woman in front of him was the only after hours guest, it could easily be swept under the rug.

"Oh... Well, I'm sorry then..." Those words, combined with the way the woman hung her head slightly made Trevor realize that the English language needed a word to describe a situation like this, because 'unfair' just wasn't cutting it. He sighed heavily, running a hand down his face.

"Look..." He started, not wanting to turn the woman away. He made no allusions to himself on the hormonal influence on his choice. The woman was petite, but she was attractive in that demure, almost mousy sort of way. It also didn't help that he had almost no luck with women. He lost his virginity to what amounted to a drunken pity fuck towards the end of his stay in high school, and as that was also the last time he did the deed, he figured he could safely have his sex life declared legally dead. So, despite the odds being stacked against him, he figured it couldn't hurt to try to win some favor. "I can't check out any books to you, but... I can show you to the section. You can sit down and read there, just please, put the books back where you got them from. And I get off around six in the morning, so that's the absolute latest you can stay, okay?"

The woman gave him a dazzling smile at this news, and a happy nod of her head. He was pretty sure he had just been played. Trevor just sighed inwardly and suppressed a shake of the head. Well, at least he could pretend he had company for a few hours. He put the mop in the bucket and wheeled it near the check-out counter, where he would leave it for the time being while he played escort.

"Anyways, my name's Trevor..." He said, as he led her towards the stairs. He would have offered a hand, but in his experience, not a lot of people shook hands with the janitors.

"Oh, uh I'm Celia." She said, her gaze moving around the library as she followed him up the stairs. "This library is huge. Do you read much?"

The question actually caught Trevor off-guard. Not so much what was asked, but the fact that it was directed at him. In fact, the only reason he caught onto it was because he remembered they were the only two in the library. "Huh? Uh, a little bit. When I have time and find a book that catches my interest."

Celia nodded, and remained silent as Trevor led her through the various shelves of books on the second floor. Finally slowing down and checking the section titles carefully. "Aaaand, here we are. Myths and folklore. It'll be these four shelves here, and those four over there..." He said, gesturing broadly with his arms. "And there's a table and a few chairs just down this aisle here. So, I'm going to make sure the door's locked, and then get back to work. If you need to leave before six, just come find me. Shouldn't be too hard. And since the library's technically closed, I'm guessing the no shouting rule doesn't really apply, so worst case, give me a holler. Otherwise, I'll be back up here around six." He finished to note that Celia was just giving him a vague nod of her head, and was already studying the books on the shelves. He just shook his head and turned to leave. "Yeah, that's the reaction I should have expected..." He mumbled to himself, fishing the bag of Skittles out of his pocket, and popping a cherry flavored one into his mouth. Well, no use complaining over it. He had a door to lock, and still more than half of a library to clean.

A/N:Well, that's chapter one. I will be doing my best to keep this story updated on a semi-regular basis, but with the way life is sometimes. I can make no promises. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to review it.