Disclaimer: Are you ready for some unrequited love bullshit?!?! I said are you ready for some unrequited bullshit!! What's that?! Louder, pansies! Louder! I CAN'T HEEEEAAAAAR YOOOOUUUUU!!

I…I am so sorry. You have no idea. (but, not sorry enough to delete that). Today is your There Are No Good Holidays In March present, for those of you who are interested. Well, sort of. I really don't know what people want to see. Oop.

I suppose today would be defined as a 'nothing' day. Mort says he's going to…well, I wasn't listening, but he's doing something that doesn't really require me.

So the nothingness of this day is yet one more reason to use it for sweet, sweet payback. Oh, you thought I'd just let last night go? Clearly, you don't know me well enough.

But not yet.

So in my utter boredom, I decide to go and talk to whoever I see next.

And the lucky winner is…Beth!

"Hey," I come up behind her. She's doing some highlighting on what looks like a research paper, presumably for some new article she's working on.

"Hey," she replies absently.

XXX

"My thing is so cooler than your thing."

"Is not. My thing, like, trumps all things."

"Not my thing."

"Liar."

"How can you call me a liar if you don't even know what my thing is?" Beth asks, waving the drink in her hand around in a way that I can't say isn't worrying to me.

"I bet I know what your thing is."

"Nope."

"I bet I can guess, though." We've somehow migrated, in the last hour, physically to a balcony overlooking the Pacific and conversationally to weird supernatural things that most people haven't experienced.

"There's no way you can guess." She tells me, setting the drink back and kicking her feet up on the balcony.

"I can. Give me a hint!" She snorts and gives me a sidelong glance.

"If I gave you a hint that would defeat the purpose of you guessing!"

"Would not."

"Fine, only if you give me a hint."

"You never said you were guessing!"

"I'm saying it now, Johnny."

"Fine. You first, though." Ha. You know, while this is fun, I can't help but wonder when my lovely little plan will take affect.

"Well, fine! Um…"

"Come on."

"I'm trying to think of something that isn't cryptic or obvious."

"Hard, isn't it?"

"'Kay, it…uh…has to do with Mick." Really. Wouldn't have guessed. I mean, really. It has to do with your hunk-a-chunk-a-lonely-puppy dog Mick, does it? Because I would have assumed it was, like, ANYONE ELSE ON THE PLANET.

"That doesn't count."

"How does that not count?"

"You said, 'not cryptic'."

"I'm sorry, how is that cryptic?"

"It's like saying 'I know something about the government and it has something to do with the legislative branch'."

"Okay, Mick is not a branch of vampirism." But he's a rather large branch of happenings in your life, hon. Don't deny it.

"Better hint."

"Fine, it has to do with when I was four." Ready for my guess? When she was four she was somehow in peril, Mighty Mick saved her, and has somehow kept in contact with her since then. Even if not to her knowledge (because if she'd KNOWN about the guy who should have been sixty when she next saw him, she wouldn't be able to flirt!).

"Okay, I think-"

"Nuh uh. You give me a hint now."

"Um." I see what her problem was: either 'I'm over four hundred years old', which is rather obvious, or some such 'I'm mature for twenty eight' or 'I'm an old soul' vague-ness. I can't mention Buddhist beliefs, can I? Not really, no. I suppose there's always the mention of fate, but that might bring up the subject of soul mates (one word: UGH.) I have a pretty pessimistic view of soul mates: maybe the world started out with a perfect set of soul mates. Chances are, however, that not every one found their own soul mate and settled for Bob On The Other Side Of the Fence, Who's Pretty Nice Looking And Has A Decent Sense Of Humor. Therefore, they did not produce another perfect soul mate, meaning that their child does not have a perfect match. And of course, from there things only got worse, meaning that by now there are so many soul-mate-mutts that you'd be pretty well off settling for Bob On The Other Side Of the Fence. Even Vinny From The Pizza Place Who Has A Cute Smile.

That is, if soul mates ever even existed in the first place.

You see what I mean? Pessimistic. Aren't you horribly depressed? Imagine realizing that on your own. I was all like 'Haw-phooey!'. Just, not in so many words.

Oh, crap, the real world's still here.

"I met someone I had no right meeting twice, under completely bizarre circumstances." Beth just eyes me rather specifically.

"What?"

"And you ragged on me for being vague." She smiles and crosses her legs, which are still propped up on the balcony. I mimic her position, leaning back in my chair further.

"Fine. Uh…the first time was an exceedingly long time ago."

"Like, what, in the two years you were alive that I wasn't?" No, no, not really. Well, maybe, but I don't remember that.

"No. I mean, maybe."

"You're headed straight for a new nickname, Johnny." NO! God forbid!

"Fine. My thing goes back waaaay farther than yours. Ha."

"What, you're telling me you're immortal?" The mood in the air changes when I don't answer, Beth watching me intently. I can feel her gaze of the back of my neck even though I turn my head away.

It's not that I am immortal…not to my knowledge. I could be. As far as I know this is the first time I've been reincarnated, but that doesn't mean it won't happen again. Then there's the whole aging thing.

I have way too many things.

"Nope." She knows enough to leave it at that.

The playful mood of the conversation has been ruined and we both know it, neither one willing to offer up a new topic. Luckily one is about to come bounding through the door with files in hand.

"Hello, ladies, Johnny."

"Haha." I look back so far that my face is upside-down on the other side of the chair so that I can stick my tongue out at Mort. He just bounces his eyebrows and shakes the files at me.

"I'll…um…you guys need to work. I'll get out of your hair. Sorry." Beth makes excuses to leave as quickly as possible.

"No, it's fine, there's no reason why you shouldn't be here." Mort! Ewe Jee Aych. She's trying to politely get her tiny little reporter ass out of here while the window's open.

"Actually, Beth, could you bring Ben some bagged blood? Just tell him to bite it like he would skin. Time to wean him and all." She smiles at me with a certain level of gratitude.

"And could you give this to Josef?" I walk over to the fridge and take out another bag of blood. She looks marginally confused in my direction, so I explain myself.

"Just a blood type he requested." No, it's not mine, don't even let the thought cross your mind. Though I had half a mind to give him a bag of his own blood. She nods and makes for the door.

Mort gives me a Look, which I know I'm going to need to explain eventually. I just give him a Look of my very own and perch myself on the edge of the kitchen table. In front of the fridge, covered in magnets. See where I'm headed with this?

"Come on. What'ya got?"

"Why do you assume I have something?"

"Right, because you always carry files around. For fun." He takes on a stand that can only be described as Zorro! with a flourish (!), narrowing his eyes in mock-drama.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Joanna."

"There's also a lot I do know about you. So, come on, do it." He un-Zorros, though his dramatic stance has kind of skewed his shirt to the side so that one of his shoulders is a little exposed and the other one is covered up more that intended by the shirt's makers.

"Do what?"

"You know, the thing." – see, there's another one of those things – "The…the files and vampires and profiling thing."

"Ah, that thing."

"Yeah, that thing." He just smirks and shakes his head a little. He tips the file upside down so that a sheaf of papers falls out, tacking a few up on the fridge with the magnets.

"I got some stuff on Ben." I can see you got some stuff on Ben. You got quite a lot of stuff on Ben. Lookey there. Ben's address, phone, known haunts, last place he was seen, filed missing persons case…

I let out a low whistle. "What is the point of all this?"

"Well, if he got attacked here…" He takes an invisible marker and makes to circle a spot on the map which he forgot to put up.

"Um."

"In your hand." He looks at his hand, in which is a map of the greater Vancouver area, and then sticks it up on the fridge. This is the weirdest fridge art in the great and famous history of fridge art.

"Right. So, here." He points to the not-so-seedy part of town. Not the rich-n-snobby end, just not the one where a mugging isn't something you report to the police, it's something to be ashamed of.

"So he parties and gets…down wif it (um) gets grabbed by a creepy guy in an alley-"

"Meaning that likely the creepy guy in an alley wasn't looking for Ben specifically, more waiting for someone suitable to pass by."

"So we have to…what?" He looks at me.

"I know you're not that stupid."

"Yes, but I am full of futile hope."

"We have to find all possible similar locations based on the point of view of the perpetrator and monitor the most likely candidates."

"Meaning we have to go to, like, four clubs in one night."

"Yep."

"Shit." I rock back and forth on the table, which gets his attention.

"Cheer up, lovey." He mock-punches me on the chin.

"You know how to cheer me up."

"What are you talking about?" Now, I know he'll know this even if Vicki didn't.

"Seems a downright shame."

"No."

"Seems an awful waste…

Such a nice plump frame-"

"Nope. If we're doing this, we're not doing that song."

"Aw, come ON!" He grins at me and shakes his head.

"Please?"

"No."

"Then what to you propose?" He takes a few steps back and places his hand on his chest, pretending to look all innocent and sweet.

"I feeeeeeeel yooouu, Joaaaannaaa! I feeeeeel yoooouuu!" You wouldn't. He wouldn't.

"I was half convinced I'd waken, satisfied enough to dream you!" He so would.

"I will hit you." His voice has taken on the tone of an overdone opera singer, thick and heavy.

"Happily I was mistaken, Joaaaaaaannnaaaaa!"

"I hate you."

"I'll steeeeeaaaal yoooouuu, Joaaaaaaannaaaa!"

"Mort. You know what I'm capable of." He pauses his serenade.

"You asked for it." I did, that's true.

"Do they think that walls can hide you, even now I'm at your window, I am in the dark beside you…." He continues, though his voice tremors with controlled laughter.

"Aren't you a little disturbed by what that suggests?"

"Buried sweetly in your yellow hair!"

"I don't have yellow hair." Oh, but he's intent on making me miserable. He sweeps grandly over to the table, picking me up by the waist –

Which itself is a violation of all my no-touchey rules.

And swinging me around the room like I weigh no more than a doll, grinning and singing the whole while. I, however, am pouting like Oscar the Grouch.

"I feel you! Joanna!"

"You're gonna feel a lot more than that if you don't put me down."

"And one day I'll steeeeeeaaal you!" He spins around, still holding me up by the waist, and places me on the kitchen counter so the our faces are level.

More than level, in fact, they're only inches apart. Any sarcastic remarks residing in my mind are now vacationing somewhere in the Caribbean.

From here I can smell him quite strongly, the smell of soap and old paper, and this close there are undertones of…something else, something nameless. Not sunshine, exactly, more the sort of smell that comes with a spring day – wet and new.

Once again I can feel the butterflies, a feeling of anticipation flooding my body via my stomach, because he still hasn't moved farther away. His hands are braced on either side of me, between my arms and body.

And despite myself I feel my heart beat in my ears as we search each other's faces with our eyes, for signs of acceptance, similar thoughts.

And even faster still as, still locked eyes with me, he moves closer. It's almost like curiosity, mingled with a familiarity that few people can achieve in one lifetime. His face is so close to mine, I can almost feel him, closing my eyes and finally relenting, leaning into him -

And he backs away. Zips away, really, in a matter of milliseconds he's leaning against the table, arms folded, surveying the map. I could almost kill him.

Until, that is, Josef opens the door with a half-empty bag of blood and a rather amused smile on his face.

"Why, hello, guys. Fellas. And…you. Jo…Jo? Can I call you Jo?" He giggles.

Oh my. It worked.

Mort looks at me, mouth very slightly agape.

"Joanna…what did you do?" I cock my head to the side innocently.

"What do you mean, me? Why do you assume I did something?"

"Johnny…" I bite my lower lip, teasing.

"Morty…" He glares.

"What did you do?"

"Oh, why do you always blame me?"

"What. Did. You. Do." Josef's shoulders shake with silent laughter.

"Yeah, Jojo, what'd you do? Did you do something? I bet you did something. I bet you did something bad. Like, um…did you take the cookies from the cookie jar?" He seems to find this immensely funny, as he's doubled over with laughter, making a choking sound. He slaps his thigh a few times, with the hand holding the blood, which he seems to remember he has, taking another swig.

We both ignore this. "I did nothing."

"Define 'nothing'." I purse my lips in an effort to hide my guilty, yet extremely satisfied, grin.

"I made his blood –" He stares at me

"You didn't…".

"Magically delicious!" His jaw and his skull have evidently completely separated as they are having a hard time touching.

Josef burps, and with this charming sound wafts the scent of…

Pure alcohol. With a little bit of peppermint schnapps. Just to give him that minty-fresh scent.

I giggle a little bit. Which Josef takes as his cue to burst into another bout of laughter.

"Okay, you have to admit, I never did that." Mort points at this spectacle.

"Oh no, lovey, you were worse. Much worse." He cocks an eyebrow. "Though I'm still willing to see if he'll react the same way you did to…."

"JOHNNY!" He screeches when I draw one of those grab-pack things of Lucky Charms out of my pocket. Yes, Josef, you'll pay.

Oh you will pay.

"Hey Josef?" I call to him sweetly. He looks up and seems to notice me for the first time again.

"HI!" He bounds over to me and claps his hand on my shoulder.

"I…I have been meaning to say…that…you…"

"Yes?"

"You smell like cocoa." Well, I'm not really sure how to take that. He holds up his fore finger and thumb, about an inch apart.

"Just…just a…just a lil' bit."

"That's nice, Josef." He points, rather drunkenly, to the cereal.

"What's that?" Mort gives me a warning glare which I choose to ignore.

"Johnny…" He begins. He thinks better of the question when I waggle my eyebrows at him conspiratorially.

"You didn't…to me, too, did you?" I don't answer. He hurriedly swipes up his glass and takes a few long, good whiffs.

"No. No way I'm doing that again. Definitely not after the way you reacted to it for the next few days."

"Then why'd you do it to him?" Josef giggles again and swings his arm around my shoulder.

"Cause we're buddies. Right, Jojo?"

"Yes, Josef, that's why. Because we're friends." He grins at me and shakes my shoulders a little with his arm.

"Here, Josef, I have a present for you!"

"What?" He looks pretty excited. Oh you sad, sad little man. This, this is why you do not mess with Joanna Lovett.

"I got you some Lucky Charms."

"Joanna!" Mort says sternly, though I can see a smile begin to play with his lips.

"It's an experiment! I can't have only one test subject." I gesture towards him, then Josef. Who, by the way, is holding the box of cereal and looking at it rather eagerly.

"Here…" I open it for him and pour a little into his hand.

"Wow. It's got a lot of…colors." He says absently, staring at the green clover or whatever in his hand.

"Yes it does. It's fun, isn't it?" Josef grins and looks up at me, then back at the Lucky Charms.

"They're Magic… magic…magically delicious!" He reads from the top.

"Yes they are." He shakes out a few more, picking out all the marshmallows.

"Look! This one's shaped like a star."

"That's nice."

"And this one is like a balloon."

"It is indeed."

"They want to be friends."

A/N: Hear this now: "Magically delicious" is now the official inside joke of this story. Say it to your friends and giggle to yourself, content in the knowledge that the same is being done nationwide. GO, MY MINIONS!

…I need minions. And a syringe to deflate my head.

I believe there may be a little more drunk Josef, followed by hung-over and pissed Josef, on the Josef agenda for those of you who are curious (obviously, other stuff will happen in between). Reviews feed the plot bunnies!

And, anyone's thoughts here would be appreciated, obviously. Also, this is me begging you for plot bunny feed. See? Begging. I don't know why I liked this chapter so much with the exception of the foreshadowing…sorry. All done now. Blah, blah, point out syntax errors, et cetera.

Yes, I know, it wasn't that funny. It was funnier in my mind.