Disclaimer: Guess what--they're not mine! They belong to Disney--or they DID, before those idiots decided not to pick up the greatest show ever up for a second season! GGGGGGRRRR!! *flexes claws*

Oh.

Ahem.

Sorry.

Anyway, this story is nothing like anything I have ever written for this genre. (I mean, it's still J/C, duh, but it's def different!!) This is actually my response to Jordan'sGirl asking me to write a horror--this isn't EXACTLY horror, it's more like...Fantasy. Or at least, it is to me. Whatever. Enough babbling. On the with the story! So, without further ado...

Call Of the Blood

Chapter 1: "Late Night Study Sessions"

Caitie Roth ran her fingers through her hair, and groaned, eyeing the large stack of books that rested in front of her. This was the absolute LAST time she put something like this off until the last minute. Her ten page report on the literary effects of "The Sound and the Fury" was due tomorrow, and, as of yet, she had exactly--the dark haired girl checked her notebook, and winced--half a page worth of research. Groaning again, in defeat this time, the girl thumped her head against the table and considered not turning the project in at all.

However, that would considerably lower her grade, and English was about the only subject that she had a decent grade in. And she really wanted to keep it that way. Besides, Ms. Earl was her favorite teacher--she didn't really want to disappoint her.

Her decision made, Caitie sat back up, and reached for the first book in the stack, a heavy brown book inscribed with the words "Twentieth Century Literary Criticisms", flipping it open to Faulkner's entry. Sticking the red rubber eraser of her pencil in her mouth, she got to work, scratching out almost unintelligible shorthand in her sparkly purple notebook.

Three hours later, her eyes were crossing she was so tired and she was sorely tempted to find and murder every literary critic ever quoted. So far, she had found about two different opinions in the thirty odd criticisms she had looked up, the rest just re-worded and quoted from the first two. Caitie massaged the bridge of her nose with two fingers before slamming her pencil down on the library table.

"Forget it. That'll just HAVE to do." Caitie muttered, looking over the five pages filled with her chicken scratch shorthand.

Gathering her stuff, the girl laid it all out in a neat pile, before hefting the large stack of books she had pulled off the shelf, intent on putting them back. Ms. Henry's, the friendly yet hot tempered librarian, major pet peeve was leaving her books out. Caitie really had no desire to be caught in the older woman's line of fire, so she stumbled over toward the shelves, the tower of books swaying precariously in her arms.

She had almost made it to the research section when she dropped them. The books clattered to the floor with a loud bump bump thu-bump. Caitie would have growled if she had known how, knotting her hands into fists and surveying the books that lay across the floor.

Gritting her teeth in anger, the young woman knelt down on the floor, and began to collect the scattered books. Suddenly, another pair of hands joined in, long musicians hands, adorned with a silver ring on each index finger. Caitie allowed her eyes to follow the hands up to the face of the person, her mouth opened to thank whoever owned the hands, and nearly gasped in surprise.

Not because their was anything odd about the way the hands were connected to the arms, or the arms were connected to the shoulder, nothing like that. No, instead it was the smiling face of Jamie Waite that surprised her. Not that there was anything surprising about Jamie's face, of course. Caitie was sure that nothing on Jamie's face could ever shock her--she knew every expression, every niche, everything about his handsome facade.

It was because it was very strange indeed to find Jamie and his handsome face in a library. Caitie was almost willing to bet that Jamie didn't even know where the library WAS, let alone visit it.

"Jamie! What are you doing here?" Caitie asked, blinking in surprise at her friend.

"Had to find a copy of Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man for Ms. Brewster's English." Jamie explained, making a face. The brunette girl snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Sounds like fun. I'm so glad I'm out of the woman's class. So, why are you here so late? It's almost..." Caitie looked up at the clock that resided right above Ms. Henry's desk, and her mouth dropped open. "Eleven thirty?! I didn't even think that library stayed open that late!"

"Evidently it does. I had to go in to work right after school today, and I just got off a few minutes ago." Jamie said by way of explanation. "And you? What are you doing here--working on your Faulkner project?"

"Yes..." Caitie groaned, and then put her hands on her hips. "I basically have two opinions for my paper, and a whole bunch of different ways to word them."

"Fun." Jamie agreed, making a face. Then he smirked at her, his lips falling almost automatically into his favorite expression. "But I'm sure you can BS your way through it and still come out with an A. You are the QUEEN of English, as you well know."

Caitie rolled her eyes before striking a dramatic pose. "Yes, all bow before me, for I am the Queen of English, the Tsar of Literature...the...the..."

"The Empress of Pain?" Her friend suggested, his dark eyes sparkling as the two of them made their way all the way to the research section and began shelving Caitie's books.

"Oh, gee, thanks." She rolled her eyes again, a smile taking the sting of heavy sarcasm out of her words.

"I call 'em like I see 'em." Jamie shot back. Caitie just laughed, and pushed herself up on her toes, trying to stick a book on one of the higher shelves. However, she still wasn't quiet tall enough, and she began to hop up and down, trying to get the book to go where it belonged.

Jamie watched for a minute, before taking the book out of her hand and placing it with ease in it's spot. Caitie made a face at him, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out. "Thank you, Too Tall Waite." This time sarcasm was positively dripping from her words.

He just snorted, and turned back to putting up the rest of his stack of her books. "So, did you drive?" Caitie blinked at his question, finishing shelving her books before turning to him and answering him.

"No...why? You wanting a ride?" She teased gently. Jamie rolled his eyes, and shook his head no.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" He offered, flashing her his most charming smile.

"Nah...I'll be fine." Caitie told him, shaking her head back and forth. Jamie gave her a suspicious look, and the petite girl rolled her eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that? I'll be fine."

"I just don't think you should be walking home alone at this time of night." His eyes were suddenly serious, but Caitie didn't seem to notice.

"Oh please. This is Kingsport--nobodies going to attack me HERE." The girl told him, brushing of his concerns with a wave of her hand.

"I don't care if it's the middle of the friggin' desert, I'm not letting you walk home alone--not tonight." She'd never heard anyone, let alone Jamie, sound so serious. But Caitie couldn't resist another dig, a smile pulling at her lips.

"Why? Cause all the crazies are out and gonna get me?" She laughed and was surprised when he didn't. Jamie's mouth was pulled down at the corners, his lips tight and his eyes dark with small creases forming rapidly around his eyes and between his eyebrows. Caitie looked at him for a minute, the smile falling off her face. "Sheesh--if it's that important to you, you can walk me home."

Jamie smiled at her, a hint of relief playing in his eyes. "Good--cause I was going, whether you wanted me to or not."

"Oh really? How were you going to do that?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow at him as the two of them left the library, Caitie with her purple notebook held tightly to her chest, Jamie with his thin paper back under his arm.

The young man grinned again, his white teeth flashing in the light of the half moon. "I have my ways."