AN: This chapter's kind of short. I just wanted to churn it out, since I have so much more planned! Heeheehee. More to come, I promise. 3, JuliaBlu
As Spag escorted the soaking rag doll into his building, he had to part a black sea of vampires, all of whom were shooting him questioning stares. He glared back at them briefly and, like a gentleman, let Sally walk in front of him.
She tottered up his shabby spiral staircase, the wooden planks jutting up and out, making her more off balance than she already was. Spag promptly put his left arm around her upper body, and held her left hand in his right. She just kept her head low, watching every step so as not to miss one. Finally, they halted in front of a door. It was unusually tall and looked sucked in at the sides; almost like an hourglass shape, but not quite, and it was pitch black. Still with his left arm cupping her shoulders, Spag fiddled in his right pocket, and then fumbled with a key… on a skeleton keychain. "Skeleton key," he said, grinning at her, "but… not exactly, seeing as how it can only unlock my door." She glanced up at him for a moment, and then cast her eyes down again. Crestfallen that he could not even jar a smile out of her, Spag busied himself with the task of opening the door.
With an earsplitting squeak, the door floated open to darkness. Spag promptly led her to a fluffy red loveseat, lit the long, off white candle resting on the end table beside her, and then looked in his closet to find his trusty patchwork quilt. Damn, she's out of it, he thought, covering her with the blanket. He smiled to himself… it was rather odd to see the clash of a patchwork dress against a similar quilt. Sally looked pretty hilarious right now. But then he snapped out of it, for the matter at hand was too serious to smirk about.
"Sally," he said, bringing the quilt up around her shoulders. "Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?"
"Tea would be nice," she managed. On his way to the kitchen, Spag lit a few more candles; some were on the mantle above the fireplace, some were resting on other surfaces. Spag shuffled around in the kitchen, and made her some chamomile tea. He figured she was probably okay with silence as he made the tea. Silence was better than a symphony of sobs, after all. He brought a cup and saucer over to her. She cupped the mug in her hands. "Are you warming up now?" He hoped the hot tea and blanket would calm her down even more, and it did seem to be working. "Sally," he began, "what would happen between you and Jack that would put you out of your house, abandoned on the streets?"
"I'm not sure what or how it happened, but one minute I see Jack kissing this woman, and the next he's made her the Pumpkin Queen!" She had started crying again.
Spag felt as though he had been stung. "Isis?" he breathed. "He was… kissing… Isis?"
"I saw the two of them together. I have no idea who she is. And the next thing I know, he's parading her in front of Halloween Town like some goddess, just beaming about it!"
"Have you talked to him or…?"
"I haven't bothered to," she said, drying a few tears. "I think actions speak louder than words. After all, he must be in love with her—he threw his crown at her."
Spag felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Not only did the Mayor have no suspicion about Jack, but Sally as well. "But… he never wanted to throw his crown at you, Sally."
"Well, I guess that I just don't know him as well as I thought," she said. Suddenly, the fight seemed to leave her, and she said in a deflated voice, "I… I know his past. He has quite a history with women. How… how could I possibly have believed that he really loved me? Me, an ugly rag doll, a monster's creation—"
Sally looked up to find there was a finger on her lips.
"Don't." The word had escaped Spag's lips without him meaning it to; he sounded wounded. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and Spag couldn't tell whether she was searching his eyes for a reason why he had reacted so strongly to her words, or why anyone would try to stop her saying she wasn't worthy of love—such a clear reality in her mind now. He lowered his hand from her face awkwardly. "It's just that," he began explaining, seeing that she wanted some kind of answer, regardless of the question flittering through her mind, "I don't think you're ugly at all. And I think there are plenty of reasons Jack loves you."
In truth, it hurts to hear you tear yourself down like that when you're so… you're soooooooo… he thought. He was sweating, he suddenly noticed. He dabbed his forehead. "Are you cold?" he asked her, trying to cover up the awkwardness of his recent outburst. "I can make a fire if you want," he offered.
"A fire would be lovely… if you're not too hot," she said, noticing his perspiration.
"No, no! Not at all. I'm still a little damp from the rain, anyway." He turned his back to her to busy himself with the fire.
"Anyway… I don't know if Jack felt anything at all, to tell you the truth," she continued. "We connected for one night… a night I thought meant so much more… but I was wrong," she bleated out bitterly. Tears welled up in her eyes for a third time. "I know what I felt. I can't deny that. But he can write me off so easily. Oh! I'm so naive! I've never been in love before. How do I know what love is?"
"You said he has a history with women?" Spag asked, stoking the flames.
"Yes. He was a ladies' man, so they tell me. I didn't want to believe any of it. We were so in love. But now I don't know if what he felt was love or lust. Judging by this new… woman… if you can even call her that… I'd say it must have been lust. All those premonitions about smoke and fire," she babbled, "maybe they weren't about Christmas, not just Christmas—maybe they were about us… going up in flames."
"A ladies' man," Spag repeated softly to himself. "I can see that." When the fire was roaring, he went back over to her again.
"Yes. Who wouldn't fall for Jack Skellington? Handsome, popular, incredibly dashing…"
Although Spag was trying to be as sympathetic as possible, he couldn't help but feel a twang of jealously as Sally listed the skeleton's notable attributes. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
"Indeed, who wouldn't? Even I would if… well, if I swung that way."
And for the first time, Spag heard Sally laugh. And he could have sworn it made him feel just as good as she felt. A huge grin cracked across his face. "So… Jack's a player then," he finally said after they shared a hearty laugh. The candlelight made her eyes glisten. He felt glad that she was relaxed now. He had thought about saying So Jack's a player? Who woulda thunk it?, but he was afraid that might upset her again.
"Can I get you some more tea?" he offered. She stretched her arms and yawned. Touching her long red hair, she sighed, "Noooo. I'm fine. I'm just tired."
"Let me show you your room, then," Spag said. He offered her a hand. She took it, and he lifted her off the couch. Oh, she's so light on her feet, he thought. He felt exhilarated with her hand in his. He couldn't explain why.
The moonlight was pouring into her room when he opened the door. "Sheets are fresh and everything. Sometimes my uncle from Translyvania comes to visit me… that's why I have it. Just let me know if you need anything."
She nodded at him, her lips turned upward, her eyes sparkling. "Goodnight, Sally," he said.
"Goodnight… and thank you," she said, her hands clasped together in front of her, "for taking me in. That was very kind of you."
"Of course. No trouble." How could anyone abandon you?
They smiled at each other. He shut the door gingerly.
He brought his hand up to his chin, his coat swirling as he stepped toward the loveseat. Plunking himself down, deep in thought, he mused Maybe… when I saw Jack at the meeting… he was feeling guilty over their sudden break-up? Could that be why he looked so sad? Maybe I just don't have the full picture… and I don't want to press Sally too much for details… it's such a sensitive subject for her.
If only Spag knew how right his last hunch was. Still, he had no answers.
…..
At that exact moment, across town, in a tower…
"Well, Jack, getting that stupid rag doll out of the picture was easier than I thought." It was a chilly night, and Isis had decided to stoke a fire as well. Usually Isis looked like a perfect snow angel (tonight she wore a dark blue sweater over her frilly tutu, and white pumps) but the glow of the firelight made her look slightly satanic; her entire aura was tinted red. Her platinum hair looked a little yellower, too. At any rate, she may as well have been the Devil… a literal devil on Jack's shoulder, no longer in his mind to torment him of days long gone. No, those days came back to haunt him far worse than he could have ever imagined…
"It appears as though she's gotten the message: we're an item. Now… who else do I have to get out of the way?" she continued. "That ginger vampire?"
"I thought you liked him," Jack said lifelessly. He was staring out the tower window, the tower where long ago he had conducted experiments to try to figure out Christmas. Now, he just wished a certain Christmas gift would crawl back into the ugly hole it came out of. His eye sockets frantically searched the city below. Sally… he thought. Sally… I hope you're safe. "You picked him, after all."
"Yes. I hope he doesn't become a nuisance, though. I think he's snooping. But… what am I telling you this for! You just wait, Mr. Skellington! You just wait! You FUCKED up Christmas! That was your trial run... doing it here. Well, I don't need a trial run. I'll show you how Halloween is really done, and on the turf where I really belong! And, oh, my little love slave, how you'll help me with those plans, now won't you?"
If it means keeping Sally safe, Jack thought. "Yes. Of course." He tried as hard as he could to keep his tone even.
"Of course you will," Isis said. "My Jack."
And as she put her arms around him, he muttered, "Don't."
"What?" She flung herself back from him.
"Don't!" he shouted, turning on her, and she backed away from him a little more with every word he thundered. "Don't touch me. Don't pretend like I love you! I don't love you!" His voice had finally risen into a boom, the type of voice he might use on Halloween Night to frighten the masses.
Yelling at her felt good, Jack thought. He felt just like his old bony self again. Wonderful. And terrifying.
They stared each other down for a moment. She narrowed her eyes at him across the room, her arms at her sides, her hands clenched. Finally, she said, "Goodnight… Jack," and turned on her heel to retire to sleep. But inside she vowed that he would pay for that remark. His name was now the most recent addition to her naughty list.
Yes, there was tension in Halloween Town that night, but the most was created simultaneously as two ghoulish creatures who would not (and could not) sleep pondered over the object of their affections…
