Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers: What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: Sorry it took so long, but here it is. Chapter eleven (also the last chapter) is being edited and will be up tomorrow. I hope you enjoy.

X.B.C.

Chapter X: Worthless

"We are here to add what we can to life, not to get what we can from life."
-William Osler

Many times when Bob was a ghost, he'd felt useless. A prime example would be when the skinwalker attacked Harry; he had to stand there and watch as that…creature tortured Harry, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. When all his former masters would ask for a certain spell and all Bob could do was tell it to them, he felt pretty useless. Although he was now alive, he'd never felt more useless in his entire existence.

Centuries ago he'd been a powerful sorcerer who could do anything, and now he was just plain old…Bob. Until last week he'd been nothing more than a relic, a reference guide for magic that doubled as a creepy paperweight, and now he was just an ordinary human. He couldn't cast a spell if his life depended on it...or Harry's life for that matter.

As a ghost, Bob lived somewhat vicariously through his masters. He would tell them the spell or potion, walk them through the steps, and watch as it all came together in the end (or fell apart sometimes if it was Harry). It was as close as Bob ever got to magic (if his neat "trick" with death was excluded), and he had accepted it.

This, however, was worse. He was human, but powerless. Before, his lack of magic came from the fact he was dead, but now, it came from the fact he was just plain powerless. Bob could affect the world, but not in the way he wished. What good was it to know it to know an endless number of spells if he couldn't do a single one. He was useless to Harry; he was useless to his one friend, a friend who had a dumbfounding need to defend him and believe in him when nothing in his past would make a normal person do so. An idea, however, to remedy his situation hit him while he was working in the lab.

It had been three days since Morgan had left with the promise he'd be back in a week; the seconds had been ticking by like hours. Bob had spent almost all that time in the lab, looking at old spells and writing new notes; he only came out to eat and sleep. Working in the lab was about the only thing he could do that made himself feel useful. Harry had taken on a new case in the meantime (it took Bob an hour to convince him to take it) and had spent more of his time away from his apartment. Bob had only partially listened to what the case was about: something about a woman and her ex-husband and what the woman believed was 'voodoo.' Harry wasn't really sure it was his type of case, but he was very short on money

As Bob sat at the table in the lab, a fit of frustration made push away what he was working on, and he rubbed his tired eyes. When he looked up again, his skull was grinning menacingly at him, and Bob suddenly realized the way to rid himself of the uselessness he felt; it was the way Morgan had intended.

Glancing down, Bob saw the manacles still encircling his wrists (during down time from research, Bob had been looking for a way to remove them), and the cold, black iron did its job to remind him his soul was bound for eternity. That could be his solution, his escape. He'd heard of plenty of people taking their own lives in his 700 years of existence. If he simply found his own way to do it, he could be back in his skull and finally have a reason for his uselessness. This was the only time in his life that Bob had ever considered instigating his own death (except for a brief moment after his beloved Winnifred's death), and he felt it to be the coward's way out. He'd been longing for life for centuries, and now he was contemplating giving it all up because why? He felt useless?

It would solve Harry's problem (as cowardly as it was), and in an odd way it would solve his. The Council could relax knowing he was safely tucked away back in his skull forever, and Morgan would leave Harry alone (at least for his being alive anyway). A horrible thought suddenly occurred to Bob. If he were to 'return' to his skull, the Council might then decide the relic was too dangerous for Harry, or any other wizard, to possess. Going back to his skull didn't seem like a horrible thing, despite how much he hated it during his imprisonment, especially if it meant he was protecting Harry. He'd been willing to die before, but being separated from the only person he'd call a friend in 700 years would almost be too much for his soul to bear, however damned it may be.

Bob put his head into his hands, torn between his two decisions, and stayed that way for God only knows how long. He only moved when he heard a crash coming from the storefront. Rising from his seat, Bob made his way to the door and quietly pushed it open, not that it really mattered; the shouting and crashes coming from the front covered up any noise he was making. Slowly and cautiously, Bob made his way up the hall and looked around the corner. A giant of a man stood in the storefront with his back to Bob while a particularly beat up looking Harry failed miserably to push himself back to his feet. The ex-ghost panicked slightly when he saw the silver glint of a gun in the huge man's hands.

"I told you to stay the Hell away from my Kelly!" shouted the gargantuan, bringing the butt of the gun down across Harry's face and sending the wizard sprawling down onto the floor; Bob didn't really have to wonder why this was the client's ex-husband. When the giant sent a powerful kick to Harry's chest, Bob almost ran out into the room, but he stopped. He wouldn't do Harry any good with a hole in his chest. Bob didn't know what Harry had done, but judging by the angry man's actions it hadn't made him very happy.

As Harry tried to push himself up again, Bob caught his eye, and the ex-ghost watched Harry struggle to try and keep the knowledge of his presence a secret. The giant suddenly raised the gun, aiming it directly at Harry's head and mumbling something indistinguishable, and Bob knew he had to act fast.

Picking up a heavy iron candlestick off the table close to the doorway, Bob made his way quickly and soundlessly across the room, and with a silent pleading prayer, Bob brought the candlestick down hard on the back of the giant's head. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, and Harry collapsed back to the ground in relief. Bob dropped the candlestick and knelt by his friend.

"Harry? Harry?! Are you okay?" Bob winced at the nasty look of the bruises already taking shade on his friend's face and the bloody cut running across his forehead.

"I'm fine," muttered Harry, getting to his feet with a lot of help from Bob. "Just a little sore." He attempted to take a step on his own, but nearly fell. Bob caught him, luckily, and helped him walk slowly across the room.

Bob helped Harry sit down on the couch, a complete inverse from a few days before, and then went to phone Lt. Murphy. He had to step over the giant man on the way to the phone, and it hit him. He was not as useless as he may have thought; he wasn't useless at all. If he hadn't been human (nothing more, nothing less) there would have been nothing he could have done today. The "ghost" would not have stood a chance against the huge man, and Harry would dead.

In all the years in his skull, Bob had watched people use magic to get what they wanted, to effect the world. While being alive, that's what Bob had done too. It never really occurred to him there were other ways to effect the world because he'd never used them. However, being just plain old Bob seemed to work just fine in helping his friend, in fact, it saved Harry's life. Suddenly, being a damned and cursed spirit trapped in his skull didn't seem like such a good thing to be again.

XVIIIIV

After Murphy had come and arrested Kelly's (his client) ex-husband and Harry had give his statement, an EMT patched him up. During which he watched Kirmani's reaction to Bob and his statement; the cop seemed utterly confused by the new edition to Dresden's World of Weirdness. From the corner of eye (he couldn't turn his head because an EMT was busy placing gauze over the cut on his forehead), Harry watched Murphy pull Bob off to the side.

"Did any of this have to do with...you know..." Murphy's voice dropped to a whisper. "Magic?"

Bob shook his head. "For once, no. Just your normal jealous ex-husband."

"Are you okay?"

Bob took a second to answer. "I believe I am." He gave Murphy an honest, but tired smile.

She shook her head with a sigh. "You know, I used to think the only one I had to worry about was Dresden, but you're good for attracting trouble too." Her voice softened. "Both of you need to be careful."

Murphy made her way over to where Harry sat on the couch and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Peachy," replied Harry, wincing as the EMT pressed down on the gauze; he looked up. "Don't I look it?"

She shook her head. "Haven't I told you to be careful?"

"Not today."

Murphy rolled her eyes, but Harry felt her give his shoulder a squeeze. "Get some rest. And put some ice on your face. You look awful."

Murphy gave him a smirk before heading back over to the other officers. It was another ten minutes before she, the rest of the officers and paramedics left

After they were all gone, Harry watched as Bob began to clean up the mess the giant had made of the shop. Harry rose to help, but a stern look from Bob made him sit back down. The former ghost placed books back on shelves and put papers back on the desk all without talking. A few minutes passed before Harry worked up the courage to ask a question he'd been wondering about for days.
"Bob, do you regret being alive without your magic?"

The former ghost froze in his clean up and turned toward Harry. The two stared at each other for a moment before Bob spoke. "I will not lie to you, Harry. I miss my magic. I have an ache inside me without it, and I have to say I felt somewhat worthless."

"Bob, you're not worth-"

The ex-sorcerer raised his hand to cut Harry off. "You need to realize the difference between present and past tense verbs. I said I felt worthless, but today, I realized I am not. If I hadn't been human, I would have been able to do absolutely nothing for you, and you would be dead. Being "powerless" in exchange for a friend's life seems like a very fair trade." Without another word, Bob went back his clean up, and Harry found himself praying for a miracle. At that moment in time, he didn't know if he had years with the human Bob or merely four days; it was pure torture.

XVIIIIV

In a few minutes, the 'exactly one week' was going to be up, and Harry knew Morgan was never late. The wait had been murder for both Bob and Harry, and now, Harry was wishing he could push it back further. The Council didn't grant second chances, and Harry had a sickening feeling Ancient Mai had thought of a way to get rid of Bob without making the Council look bad. God, he was not looking forward to Morgan's arrival.

As Harry paced by the door, Bob sat on the couch, looking down. He was absently pulling at the manacles around his wrists; no spell in any of the books (not even the one's from the Morningway estate) was designed to remove them. Both Harry's and Bob's mindless activities were interrupted when the door was once again thrown open violently. An immense feeling a deja vu hit Harry as Morgan strode in with his sword already drawn; the warden looked angry.

"Morgan," said Harry, trying to sound calm, "we can talk about this."

"Silence, Dresden," sad Morgan lowly. He shot his hand out, and a bolt of energy sent Harry flying into the wall. It wasn't actually enough to hurt him (much), but a spell shot afterwards kept him pinned to the wall. He heard Bob shouting his name and asking if he was okay, but Harry was too focused on the warden walking toward Bob with a drawn sword to answer.

"You can't do this, Morgan!" shouted Harry desperately. "You can't! He doesn't deserve it." He tried to fight the spell that kept him pinned up against the wall, but it was no use. He was getting desperate. "Please, Morgan!"

Bob had gotten to his feet and was trying to stand tall in front of the very aggravated looking warden; on the inside, however, he was shaking like a leaf. He felt more helpless than a field mouse going up against a lion.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" demanded Morgan with narrowed eyes.

Bob's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sounds came out. For the first time ever, Bob was speechless.

Morgan seemed impatient. "On your knees," said the warden lowly.

As the ex-ghost slowly got to his knees, Harry began pleading. "Morgan, please! You can't do this! You can't! Please! You can't!"

Morgan ignored the wizard and kept eye contact with Bob. "Lower your head and put your hands out in front of you."

Bob swallowed hard and obliged. He put his head down and set his hands out on the coffee table in front of him. Deep down he felt as though he should be fighting this, but that would only make things worse for Harry in the end. Bob took a deep breath not knowing how long it would be before the pain and blackness.

Harry could only watched in horror as Morgan raised the sword. "Morgan, you can't do this!" His pleas were growing more desperate as tears began to fall from his eyes. Anger was his next emotion. "Morgan, I swear to God if you do this I will kill you! I swear I will hunt you down and kill you!" Threatening the warden probably wasn't helping his own case, but that didn't even matter to Harry. If the Council took Bob's life a second time, he didn't know what he would do.

As Morgan started to bring the sword down, Harry closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't watch this; he couldn't.

TBC