Michael's house was only twenty minutes from Murphy's – a short drive, provided traffic wasn't too heavy. Tonight, though, I made it to the Carpenter home in ten.

Ever since kids had started disappearing off the streets, Chicago's citizens had become a lot more recluse. People traveled in packs, or not at all. The usually populated streets of Chicago were surprisingly empty – there weren't even any homeless people in sight. Where they'd holed up - or if they had been taken as well - I had no idea.

The sight unnerved me a little bit. Chicago was my home, and seeing it become a ghost town didn't sit well with me.

Despite the lateness of the year, November still held a little of summer's warmth. It must have been in the mid-sixties – probably the last warm day of the year, before the cold set in. Still, the sun was close to setting, and the dimming light made me feel strangely peaceful.

Gravel crunched under the wheels of my ride, a lightning-blue pickup truck that stood out like a sore thumb in the evening light. I turned left onto Michael's street, blowing through a stop sign. Call me jumpy, but I'd rather not be out on my own. These days, it was a risk I seldom liked taking.

I'd needed transportation, but didn't want to buy another Beetle. The original Blue Beetle was too close to my heart for that, and I couldn't stand the thought of replacing her.

So I took a page out of Ebenezar's book. I'd purchased a truck, one with enough horses to start my own racing franchise, a shotgun rack in the backseat, and a storage compartment for my staff and blasting rod between the driver and passenger seats.

I'd picked it up from a local dealership, and had the finishing touches installed by Mike, my old mechanic who used to work on the Beetle. He's a great guy - he offers quick repairs and no questions asked. You can't do much better in this day and age.

Since I couldn't exactly pay for the truck with a credit card – magic tends to work havoc with electronics, and I'd as soon pull money from an ATM as destroy it - I'd walked into the dealership with a suitcase full of money. The look in the salesman's eyes told me that he thought I was either filthy rich, or a wanted man, or both. Either way, that didn't stop him from trying to sell me every extra feature, from an expensive stereo system, to heated seats and a dash-mounted DVD player.

Naturally, I'd turned them all down. I'll be damned if heated leather seats weren't the most tempting purchase I'd seen in the last year, but magic and technology are mortal enemies, and I doubt all the money in the world would stop one from destroying the other.

They say money can't buy happiness. Leather seats are pretty damned close. And, unfortunately, they're right, at least in my case.

I pulled up to Michael's driveway, and parked on the street.

Michael was sitting on the porch in a wooden rocking chair, a bottle of Mac's ale in his hand.

"Harry," he called, "You've missed dinner. Are you alright?" He leaned forward in his chair, looking a little concerned. Charity's cooking was a godsend, leagues better than I'd eaten for most of my life. It was only in recent months that she'd opened up to me, allowing me to sit at her dinner table - and once I'd joined them for the first time, my stomach wouldn't let me turn down another invitation.

"Yeah. Just got a little held up. Working an angle, trying to figure out what Nick's up to. Why'd you ask - everything okay here?"

Michael glanced over his shoulder, towards the open window behind him, and smiled. "Harry, everything is perfect."

That's what I liked about Michael. He was a man who had his priorities straight. A former knight of the cross, Michael had been with me on so many adventures that we'd both lost count at some point. His fighting days were long over, but that didn't mean he couldn't help out in other ways. Michael, true to his namesake, was a carpenter – he'd built his home from the ground up, in more ways than one. He'd taken my daughter, Maggie, into his home when I couldn't be there for her.

I can count the people I trust implicitly on one hand. Michael's on the list. He's good people.

"Is Butters here yet?" I asked, helping myself to a beer, and taking a seat next to him.

"No," Michael shook his head. "He's still at the Better Future Society. Sanya's driving him hard tonight – and I can't say I disapprove. We need him ready as soon as possible, and... even I'm surprised by how hard he's throwing himself into it. He just keeps going."

I eyed Michael skeptically. "He listens to polka, Michael. Polka. He's been ridiculed for it for most of his life. Nothing's going to phase him anymore." I took a sip from the beer, the nutty taste dousing my tongue in a wave of ecstasy.

I heard Charity and the kids chatting inside, through an open window. It sounded like they were clearing the table - I heard dishes clattering in the sink, and Maggie's voice chattering on about wanting to see me. I felt a warmth spread through my chest, and I'm not ashamed to admit it wasn't from the beer.

Michael chuckled. "So, you're crediting his musical taste for his drive. Perhaps I should introduce it to the children, then." I nearly choked on my beer.

"Not Maggie. Don't even joke about that." A note of warning crept into my voice. Michael waved dismissively, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"What did you need Butters for? Harry, you've got that look..."

"What look?" I set my beer down, and tried my damnedest to keep my tone light. I prided myself on my wizardly mystique. First Murphy, and now Michael? I was losing my touch.

"Harry, you've been scowling since you sat down."

"I'm..." I raised a hand in protest, and then dropped it, thumping my knee. "Yeah. I, ah... I'd like someone to watch my back tomorrow morning. Figured Butters might be up to it."

"Harry..." Michael began, but I cut him off.

"I'm doing some digging to find out the properties of the scabbard I swiped from the Vault. Bob figures it's made by the Courts, and my money's on Summer. I set up a meet-and-greet with the Court for tomorrow. Trick is, I've got the money, and they've got the cards. For all I know, this could be a setup to draw me out and take the scabbard. Just because they can't directly act against me doesn't mean they can't try to interfere in some other way."

"And you want Butters to accompany you," Michael said, leaning back in his chair. His voice was calm and measured, and he took the time to consider his words carefully. "But, Harry, you need to realize that he isn't finished with his training. He defeated Nicodemus with the element of surprise, but you can be sure that the Fallen will be seeking revenge. Our friend is vulnerable, and Sanya's eye is as much for training him as it is for his protection."

I didn't take that into account. I'd become so absorbed in plotting that I hadn't paused and though about what my friends might go through. This wasn't the first time I'd done it - and it probably wouldn't be the last. Thankfully, Michael here was there to point it out.

Stars and stones, can I make an ass of myself.

I rubbed at my face tiredly. "Yeah. You're right. I shouldn't have asked."

Michael leaned back in his chair, and shook his head, smiling. "Harry. You're friends. More than anything, I'm sure that Butters wants to stand and fight alongside you. You asking is... selfish, but it's also a sign of trust. You have faith in his abilities, and that speaks highly of you."

Trust Michael to know what to say. I smiled a little.

"If you asked, I'm sure he would say yes. But that doesn't change the fact that he isn't ready."

I leaned back in the chair. It creaked a little with my movement. "Words of wisdom, Michael. You never seem to run out. It's the father in you."

Michael chuckled. "You underestimate yourself, Harry. The last time I checked, you're a father, too."

The Carpenters had been looking after Maggie since she was born. It's not that I didn't care about my daughter... as a matter of fact, I took out the entire Red Court - thousands, if not millions of vampires - to save her. But in the process, I'd killed Susan, my former love and Maggie's mom. Every time I saw Maggie, I couldn't help but feel the pain again... feel the knife sinking into Susan's chest, feel her hot breath on cheek as I drove it up and into her heart.

More than that, I had a lot of enemies. I'd isolated myself from friends and family in the past few years, trying to prevent them from getting caught in the path of the Fallen, the Red, Black and White Courts, the Sidhe, the Council at one time... hell, pretty much everyone who could swing a stick had it out for me, and I didn't want to chance any of the people I'd cared about getting hurt.

The hardest person for me to stay apart from was Maggie. She was just a kid, all knobby knees, baby fat, and unspeakably cute. She also had her mother's eyes, chocolate as dark as charcoal...

Being a father wasn't easy, but I'd been trying. Ever since I'd returned from Demonreach and reconnected with my friends, things had been put into a new perspective for me. I'd shut myself away from them, believing that they were better off without me, but all I'd done was hurt them, leaving them alone to fight the horrors of Chicago in my absence.

But I realized I couldn't stay away. I had a responsibility to her. She was mine, and I needed to take care of her, to raise her. The Carpenters are an amazing family, and they'd made sure that Maggie's early years were full of love, laughter, and family. But, try as they might, they weren't me. Maggie wanted me.

This had become my routine. I'd spend my days pursuing a little independent detective work and helping Murphy out around the house. Every now and then, I'd stop by the Better Future Society, or join the Alphas for a tabletop gaming sessions, to Georgia and Will's delight.

I'd spend my evenings with the Carpenters, helping the kids with their homework and learning life skills. Charity had been teaching me how to cook, a skill I was eternally thankful for, since Murphy had about as much talent in the kitchen as Shaq had at acting.

I'd make sure to see Maggie, too, giving her - and me - the peace of mind that time with family brought.

Despite her desire to live with me, I'd had to turn her down. The Carpenter's home was safer than anything I could ever hope to provide. It was guarded - by the Knights of the Cross, a legion of angels set about the home, and Mouse. Enough said.

I'd grant her wish one day. I promised myself. When the world was safe enough that she could live with me, I'd take her in, arms open, and be the father she deserved. This would have to do, for now.

I opened my mouth to reply - when something caught my eye. The setting sun glinted off of something in the distance. I winced, covering my eyes with a raised hand. Whatever it was, was situated on a neighbor's roof, about a dozen houses down the street. At first I thought I was seeing the sun reflecting off of a weather vane, but... whatever it was, it was too small to be a weather vane, and too close to the roof.

My heart dropped into my stomach, and I stood quickly, knocking my own chair aside.

"Get down!" I shouted, and tackled Michael, knocking the crippled man out of his chair and onto the porch.

We landed in a pile of tangled limbs just as a loud crack pierced my eardrums, and brick dust caked my face.

I felt a searing hot pain in my head, and my vision faded to white.