AN: I know I said this would be a series of one shots, but it's turning more into a story with a plot and everything. SO I guess I'll go with that. Sorry for the earlier misrepresentation!

PS: If you have a Tumblr, feel free to follow either of my blogs (both urls are available on my profile) for adventure time fanart and some of my unrelated work and such!

Thanks for reading!

I was in the graveyard again. This time, though, it was in the middle of the day. I wasn't digging for samples, either. I was at a funeral. I stood at the edge of a deep hole, surrounded by people I didn't recognize, all of them dressed in black. There was something off about them all, too. They all had a strange skin tone, and a strange scent clinging to them. They were a strange light pink, orange, white color, and they smelled like…

Finn! They all smelled like Finn. Strong and musty and sweaty and salty all at once. I drew closer to one carefully, expecting him to withdraw from me, but he didn't react. He was an older gentleman, with salt and pepper hair and thin lips, shriveled skin and sunken grey eyes. I waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing. He couldn't see me. I was willing to bet my butt no one could.

No longer feeling self-conscious about my researching, I closely inspected all of them, coming to the conclusion that all of them were human. Every single one of them, from the old man, to the couple holding each other and weeping, to the official looking man standing above the hole, holding a small black book and reciting things in a monotonous buzz that wouldn't condense into words, to the pre-pubescent boy standing by himself and wringing his hands.

Excitement coursed through me. I had to tell Finn! I had to take samples! I had to acquire study subjects! So much could be done…

Except…

Except NOT all of them were human. Not anymore. A man that I hadn't noticed my first go around the graveyard now stood beside the boy. No…I hadn't noticed him…because he hadn't been there before! I was certain. I hadn't seen him approaching in the distance either. It was as if he had suddenly appeared there out of nowhere.

He had blue tinged skin, and a smell about him that reminded me of rotten meat that had fallen off of Meat Man and turned sour. His hair was short and black and stiff. He looked up at me, his arm still hooked around the boy, who was now sobbing, and smiled. His teeth were pointed, and I could see wiggling things caught between them.

Hunson Aberdeen. Marceline's dad. He could see me.

I frowned, but before I could even think about taking action, a gasping sound overtook the droning of the man reading the black book. I looked down into the hole for first time, and my blood ran cold.

A little girl, no older than four or five years old, laid flat on her back at the bottom of it. Her arms were folded neatly across her thin chest, and tucked by her elbow was a very familiar stuffed animal.

Hambo.

Except he didn't have all the patches and holes and worn spots that made him who he was. He looked brand spanking new.

And the little girl's eyes were wide open. Her body didn't move. Her mouth was open. Two infinitesimally small pointed teeth rested lightly on her thick lower lip. Her hair was dark brown. Her skin was pale. Not blue, but pale. She was dead.

She was Marceline Aberdeen.

She gasped again. And as I watched, her hair slowly darkened until it was blacker than night. Her pointed teeth grew a little longer. Her skin darkened blue. And she jumped up, as if waking up from a bad dream, and opened her mouth wider and screamed, "Bubblegum!"

"Bubblegum! Wake up, princess!"

I opened my eyes. Peppermint Butler sat on my covered knees, his long arms crossed over his center, his face cross.

"You slept in Princess," he said.

I rubbed my hand over my eyes, and used the front of the black shirt Marcy had given me so long ago to wipe the drool off my chin. "Sorry, P. Butt. Weird dreams." I yawned.

His eyes narrowed. "I hear cemeteries can do that to you."

I had been about to climb out of bed, but I froze. "Oh?"

"Yes," he sounded unhappy, as if he were touching something slimy and unappealing. "Stay away from her, princes." His voice softened. "She'll only hurt you again."
I giggled. But somewhere inside my stomach it felt like I had swallowed a shard of ice.

"Marcy's harmless," I said simply.

And I tried to make myself believe it.