okay, we're about half way there. sorry to everyone who's been waiting for this, but my laptop, ie. my life, had a defected mouse and had to be sent out for servicing and i just got my baby back.

so yes...thank you to to silver windflame (oddly, i felt a swell of pride at being called creepy), ShadowKat-Shidobukatsu (neat name), Jenniyah (i agree, and it will only get worse for wata-chan mwahahahacough), and YunaFab (here's the next chapter). so yeah...review and i will shout out to you too.

and people, here the crossovers are getting blatantly obvious. i have both more chapters of this and a vauge idea for the sequel floating through my head for the grande prize for those who can guess all of the crossovers, really, free preview a good week/month in advance, this is a sweet deal, get it while it lasts.

disclaimer: i don't mind CLAMP owning xxxholic, i would probably butcher the story if it was left in my hands.

warning: if you haven't read the prequel to this yet. DON'T keep reading. go back and read Fallen Angels and the Season of Tears or else the next bit won't make much sense.

When Watanuki woke up, again, he found himself very alone. He was in a long avenue, completely devoid of life. The avenue itself though, was an interesting place to be, as it wasn't one of those sweeping shopping avenues of home, but one of the tighter, cobblestone streets of Old London, lined with squat shops piled on one another with signs that should have been declaring the nature of the depot ominously blank. The windows were covered in inches of dust on both sides.

"Hello," Watanuki called, answered only by his own echo. He wandered into a shop at random, noting the dust that covered it all, and inhaled slightly, raising dust and causing him to hack and cough. When he stopped coughing, he looked around, keeping a hand firmly over his mouth and nose to prevent a repeat performance.

Inside this particular shop was a collection of weapons of all origin and use. In the corner was a collection of broadswords and katanas, mostly just covered in dust but some had a highly toxic smelling brown sludge dried on. A whole wall was dedicated to projectiles of all length and type. But Watanuki didn't really care about these details, a quick sweep o the shop revealed that nothing had been around since the weapons were arranged, so he turned to leave, hopefully his next visit would be a little less…disused. Watanuki only had a few seconds to duck after he heard the metal on metal of a weapon moving, luckily, he ducked in time, trained by all of Yûko's more lethal jobs. Turning towards his attacker, maybe to negotiate, Watanuki got another shock as he saw the weapons floating in midair, as if being waved by invisible hands. As a trio of dart, dark venom leaking from their tips launched forward, Watanuki slipped out the door and firmly slamming it shut. As he jumped back, three solid thunks sounded from the other side. Breathing heavily as the adrenaline stopped flowing, Watanuki continued down the street, anxious to find someone to help him find his way home.

Dômeki blinked and then suddenly, the darkness in front of his face evaporated as the scene in front of him came into focus. He was on a boat, a large one, although it was sleeker and thinner than the Fleiger. Black sails decorated the mast and sailors in mismatched gear dotted the deck. A screech of a monkey brought his vision skywards just in time to see the primate fall off his perch after the shot of a gun.

"Blasted Monkey!" a pirate yelled, dashing past, waving a gun.

"Captain, stop firing so close to the sails!" someone yelled,

"Shiver me timbers!" a parrot squawked, "Shiver me timbers, shiver me timbers, shiver me-"

"Mr. Cotton, shut that bird up!" an Arabian man's voice spiraled from the gun ports a level down. Blinking in confusion at the random activity around him, Dômeki did the most logical thing, followed the spirit chain. He was hit with the odd sensation of déjà vu from the time that Watanuki had disappeared under the Hydrangeas. But he swept those memories under the rug to be examined another day. Instead, he followed the spirit chain down into the bowels of the ship, eventually slipping into a squat closet that opened onto another plane entirely.

Watanuki stumbled into another shop, this one a simple grocer, nothing worrying about that. The windows looked cleaner too, perhaps it was actually inhabited. But when he opened this door, he was sourly shocked. No doubt about it, the store was a grocer, the appropriate stands and scales where present, lined up; signs parading the prices of a pound of produce clearly legible.

The baskets, stands, and shelves however, had not held fruit or cheese in a long time though. Instead of fresh fruit, ready for consumption, rotten, decaying shells filled the baskets high. Flies circled overhead, fat and bothersome, lazy clouds of black dots. For a while, Watanuki just stared in horror at the mess, as would any chef worth his salt. Then, he remembered to breathe. It was then he smelt the stench, like a compost heap, only more sickly sweet and overwhelming, like bad perfume. The worse stench came from the bottom of the piles and the floor, where the oldest collapsed fruits had been crushed by having new produce piled on top, squeezing the juices out and letting them drip onto the floor.

Bile rose in his throat and he clutched a hand to his face again, this time to prevent stuff from getting out of his body instead of in. While he was reeling, Watanuki had noticed the faint footprints in the floor. He wasn't sure how anyone could live among this filth, but if they did, they would know where here was, and how to get home from here. That was the reason why Watanuki decided to delve farther into this shop that reeked of death. He made it to the back, and once he was facing away from the main shop, the smell lessened slightly, like how the wind isn't as strong once you face away from it.

The new sight in front of him renewed his desire to upchuck what little acid was in his stomach. The footsteps carved into the dust that lay in a thin layer over the floor were the proper size, if not misshapen, but then one did not need human feet to be sentinel. However, the thin footprints were caused by a massive rat, a sickly black crown on its head and a multitude of smaller rats scattered around like drone bees to their queen. They had mostly converged onto one spot and those at the center were squeaking loudly as those around them tried to wriggle their way in.

Watanuki really did vomit when he saw what they were eating, dead children. His retching though alerted the rats of his presents. The crowned rat raised its massive head and turned it to Watanuki, and with a loud screech, the rest the rats turned to him, their beady gaze bringing a nervous sweat to his face. They began creeping slowly towards him and although his mind screamed RUN, Watanuki was frozen in place.

As they neared, Watanuki got a clear view of how healthy and slick the rats were and much larger than they had a right to be with pointy fangs that seemed to large for they thick noses. A creak coming from the back stopped everyone. From a doorway blocked from his view, Watanuki could hear something human coming in, and thankful, the new stranger appealed more to the rats than Watanuki.

But when the elusive character came into view, Watanuki was in for another shock. It was a man all right, dressed in old fashion, Elizabethan clothing. What made him freakish was the fact he was currently pulling off his human face, revealing a furred rat head in its place. Glancing down at the upturned faces of his horde, the rat man looked back at Watanuki, removing a long tabor pipe from around his neck,

"He looks a little thin for your tastes dears, but if you want it, go ahead." He said walking across the back of the shop. The rats swarmed towards Watanuki, a malicious intent evident in every eye and squeak. This time, Watanuki regained enough senses to quickly turn and run…into another wall of rats. They had snuck up behind him and now he was surrounded by a converging crowd of rabid, ravenous rats. As one jumped forward, biting at his pants, the front door opened.

"Piper I-" a familiar voice called from the door, stopping short when she saw the chaos surrounding Watanuki. "Piper," the woman said, her scarred and ripped face turning into a scowl, "you know the reason we let you steal children is so your rats won't eat the spirits."

"But my darling, he just wandered in and my rats went crazy." The Piper said too sugary sweet innocence as evident as possible in his rat eyes.

"Doesn't matter, one more infraction and we're sending you too Hell." She said, ruffling her molting wings in agitation. Something about her struck a cord in Watanuki, he was sure he had seen her before. Suddenly it clicked,

"Parisa?"

Dômeki walked out onto a school's playground, with shorter children running around in primarily black sailor style.

"Who are you?" some asked from the other side of the fence he was leaning against, turning, Dômeki saw someone that looked vaguely like himself although he was slightly wider in the shoulders and the stranger had messier hair. Dômeki didn't reply, slightly surprised that he could see him, the other children in the playground didn't seem to notice he appeared almost out of thin air.

"Fine then," the boy said, loosening the black uniform tie he wore. "I'm Kinomoto Toya, you are?" he asked quietly as another boy wearing the same blue blazer walked past, not wanting to be overheard.

"Dômeki Shauna" he said, tit for tat and all that.

"Do you need help crossing over?" Kinomoto said causing Dômeki to snap his full attention to the other teen, raising his eyebrows in a silent question something along the lines of "why would you say that?" Kinomoto got the message, "you look like you have something that needs to be done." Dômeki huffed, now he remembered one of the reasons he tried to get out of formal exorcisms, everyone insisted on talking in vague, polite, politically correct phrases.

"No," he replied evenly and rudely.

"If you say so." He said, turning to walk away toward the bicycles racks. Rolling his eyes, Dômeki followed the spirit chain, slipping though an alley between the school and the bank of shops nearby.

Later, he came out in a residential area, and was walking towards a plain house that closely resembled its neighbours. The spirit chain led him inside, around the back, and into an open window. Up the stairs and onto the second floor he went, the slack disappearing behind him as he followed the spirit chain past the master bedroom and another door, firmly closed, towards the last room in the row, it's door left slightly ajar. He reached for the doorknob but was stopped by a voice.

"What are you doing?" it said, spinning around like he had been caught in the middle of a burglary, only to find that Kinomoto Toya standing in front of that second door. Dômeki gave him a blank look and slipped into the room anyways; ignore the thumps of the other boy running towards him. It was a messy pink room, the drawers in the desk open, bed unmade. Dômeki focused on the bookcase, as the spirit chain led him there.

Pulling the old, hardcover book off the shelf, Dômeki flipped through it until he came to the page with the spirit chain firmly clamped in it. Once he made it to that page, he saw the book lead to another scene that was much too lifelike for a simple picture. Something high pitched and yellow yelled at him and Kinomoto tried to grab him, but Dômeki had already been sucked into his next step towards Watanuki.

Now that Watanuki had realized who the girl was, it seemed impossible that he hadn't recognized her immediately. Then of course, she was a little worse for wear, her skin a dull grey and hastily stitched up, as was her dress and her wings were nearly bare in places.

"My name was Parisa?" she asked airily, eyes wide.

"You mean you don't rememb-ow!" Watanuki screeched as a rat bit him,

"Piper." Parisa turned on the rat man who bore a sour look on his face.

"If you're not going to let my babies eat him, could you please stop tempting them?" He said sullenly, like a child being scolded.

"No more eating spirits," Parisa said dramatically, puffing her cheeks, as she turned on her heel and left, Watanuki scampering behind.

"So who was I?" Parisa asked eagerly as they exited the disgusting shop and its owner.

"You don't remember?" Watanuki repeated, still perplexed.

"No body remembers anything when they come to Limbo; well, if they come to Limbo to be recycled." She said thoughtfully, her voice now a nearly irritatingly high squeaky thing.

"Recycled?" Watanuki asked, even more confused,

"You know, re-incarnated, karma, no?" she said, trying to make Watanuki see,

"You're soul is wiped blank and then it's put into a new baby on Earth, you can't make souls out of thin air." She explain, scoffing at that last bit.

"So you're waiting to be re-incarnated?" Watanuki said slowly, almost understanding.

"Yeah," Parisa said, "but now back to me being an angel," she said, changing the subject.

"I didn't know you all that well," Watanuki started nervously, not wanting to disappoint.

"I don't care," she said, "anything would be great."

"Well, you always said 'live without regrets'" he mention, referring to the dancing in the rain session which he had yet to repeat.

"That makes sense," she said pensively,

"Um-you always came off a bit er-scatterbrained." He said nervously, unsure how she would take it,

"I think I remember that…" she trailed off,

"You said that there was going to be a war between heaven and hell…" Watanuki nearly whispered, his mind roaming back to the days spent with the angels, what had happened to them?

"Oh," she said simply.

They walked in silence for a bit, Watanuki pondering the fate of Antoinette and Shylock, the only angels he cared about, and Parisa locked in her maybe half memories. Suddenly, she stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, sharply inhaling. She started quivering then before breaking into a keening wail that dissolved into muted sobs. Watanuki cautiously neared, unsure of how to handle this. The situation was made more awkward when Parisa threw herself at him, sobbing to his ratty jacket. Even more uneasily, he gently patted her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner, thankful that no one was out to see this interesting situation.

"What's wrong?" he asked after a few minutes, unenthusiastically although he tried not to let it show.

"I-hic-just remember-sniff-how I d-died." She whispered before breaking into another round of sobs.

AN: kudos for anyone who can remember!
Dômeki fell heavily onto a dark floor, his middle hitting something hard and oval across his middle. Recovering from the pain, he heard scuffling from the other side of the wall, then it opened, revealing a tall broad shouldered youth in a green apron on the through the door.

"Kakei-san, there's a random boy in the washroom." He said, yelling to someone outside Dômeki's field of vision. Soon, more footsteps were heard as another man, this one taller, slimmer, blonder, and wearing a lab coat, walked into view. He simply stared at Dômeki for a second before blinking and smiling a warm smile,

"You're Yûko's boy, no?" he asked, Dômeki just gave a small sigh and a nod, coming to terms with his new nickname.

"Welcome to the Green Drug Store." He said, opening the door wider and moving backwards. Awkwardly, Dômeki left the small bathroom.

"You're searching for you're friend, aren't you?" Kakei asked, an odd glimmer shining off his glasses and an odd emphasis on friend.

"Yeah." Dômeki said bluntly, blinking in the harsh light of the florescent tubes.

"Would you like some help in finding the next portal?" he asked, walking alongside Dômeki as he neared the store. At first, Dômeki wasn't going to accept, determined to find Watanuki on his own. But then he remembered the three days wasted unconscious, and the time wasted running through these different dimensions.

"Sure," he said, turning towards the slightly shorter man.

"Great, then you can accompany Kazahaya-kun and Rikou-san on their next job." he said, smiling his little knowing smile.

A few hours later found Dômeki, Kazahaya, and Rikou marching up the steps to a low ceiling basement proudly adorned with then name "Babylon."

"What's this job again?" Kazahaya, or at least, the one Dômeki thought was Kazahaya, said.

"Don't you ever listen?" the taller one replied, slightly exasperated, "we're suppose to find a carving in this building with a saying on it and we're posing as models for Babylon's advertising." he explained, shortening a full ten minutes of debriefing by Kakei into two sentences.

By then they had entered the club through a short staircase and a heavy iron-grey door embezzled with a large gothic cross. They stopped short at the sight inside, namely the racks of leather, the long dark red or deep purple seamlesses (AN: photographers' toys to get rid of wall seams), and the many…interesting props that littered the room.

"You must be the boys Kakei sent," a tall man said, coming over to the door from where he was eating lunch with the about four other people, a warm smile contradicting his cold, calculating eyes.

"Thank you for coming, you know what your-"

"Ah, my models!" a man with fly away grey hair interrupted and a lab coat squealed, striking a pose once only confined to Shojo mangas.

"Brother, stop getting so excited, you're just behind the camera, remember?" a younger man said in a more subdued manner, tucking long blue bangs behind his ears; which sent the older man into a bit of an overdramatic depression.

"It's alright Icchan, you're a great photographer, Ojiro just has a better fashion sense than you." The third member of the odd party, and only girl, said.

"Thank you Misakichi," 'Icchan' said, patting the young woman's red hair.

"I thought that there were only going to be two models." The last member of the luncheon said, turning kind green eyes towards the newcomers.

"I just tagged along." Dômeki said truthfully,

"Goodie!" the short red-head said, "I need someone tall to help me with the lights." This should have been rather obvious, as she stood a gracious five feet two inches.

"Well then, shall we get started?" Ojiro asked, moving away from the table.

Later, around when they got past the ambiguous photos and into the downright kinky (AN: aka Legal Drug colour inserts drool) Dômeki was easily able to slip away, holing up near the washroom. He wasn't sure why he had allowed himself to get so far from his goal. Sign, he began pulling the slack out of the spirit chain, he was probably a good ways behind his self imposed goal to find Watanuki by yesterday; the only question was: by how long?

The spirit chain weighed heavy in his hands, like coarse burlap, a physical manifestation of his guilt for taking so long to find Watanuki. But then, it gave a slight twist before pulling itself tighter before it stopped, flowing through the archway carved into the stonework of the hallway under a curving scroll closer to the club. Obviously set on the right path, Dômeki practically ran at the wall, not terribly surprised when he went straight through.

a decent sized chapter, no? well, the pretty button is calling your name, so pwease give feed back (chibi eyes).

and don't forget about the crossover contest! i hope to get at least some replies this time, i mean, i've labeled them. here's a hint or two: there are three CLAMP refrences in this last dom-kun POV and there are only so many stories where a Piper, who works with rats, steals children and only so many plot lines with pirates, a "blasted monkey" the captain hates, and a parrot owned by a Mr. Cotton. i will distribute previews for correct answers!!!!!

so yes...review?