November 10, 2007

The pumpkin sun had not yet risen when Maris dragged herself out of bed that morning. It was Saturday and Maris had been busy all week, but she couldn't rest quite yet. Not many citizens worked on Saturday, which made it a great opportunity to stay open.

It's not like she had anything else to do.

At least, not before Dean moved in. Now that he was here maybe she should consider closing on Saturday, or at least waiting until 10:00 a.m. to open. She hadn't had the opportunity to show him around the Town Square or introduce him to the residents of Halloween Town, which was rather ridiculous considering that he had been here for over a week already.

Maris sighed as she began to dress in her normal attire just as she did every other day. That's all it was anyway, just another day of business. She quickly tied her hair up before leaving her room.

She froze once she opened the door at the end of the hallway. A warm, delicious smell was wafting up from the downstairs kitchen. Maris was instantly curious. Dean had asked her about food one morning and Maris could not have helped the guilt that had swelled up in the pit of her stomach when he had made it clear that he was hungry and she had not offered him anything. The citizens of Halloween Town did not, necessarily, need to eat since they could no longer starve due to being dead and all, but that did not mean that they couldn't get hungry.

Maris had then sheepishly admitted that she did not eat too often, but offered to take a look around the kitchen to see what she could find for him. Ever since Dean's arrival, she had made an effort to put something together for him three times a day each day. But this was different. This time he'd made something himself, and wafting smell made her all too aware of her empty stomach.

She descended the stairs and entered the small kitchen through her study just as she always did every other day to see him at the stove scooping omelettes onto plates.

"Good morning," he said as he placed their breakfast on the small table.

"What's all this?" Maris stared skeptically at the eggs in front of her.

"Breakfast," Dean said as he sat down and began to dig into his omelet.

"You made breakfast?"

"Yep."

"Oh, well, thank you," she gave a smile, "I'm sorry I've been a little busy and haven't gotten a chance to show you around town or introduce you to all of the citizens."

"That's all right. I have plenty of time to meet them. You know, being dead and all."

"Right. Of course."

"Are you going to eat your breakfast?" he questioned, gesturing to Maris's untouched plate.

"Oh! Yes, this looks great." she declared, as she took a seat, grabbed a fork, and cut into the omelet. She shoved a forkful into her mouth and swallowed. To Dean's delight her face instantly lit up.

"This is really good!" she exclaimed, taking another bite.

"I'm glad you like it! It's my specialty. Well, I think it is. I don't really remember."

Maris chuckled through her mouthful of eggs, coughing as she swallowed. "Are you all right?" he asked as her coughing continued after she had choked down the bite.

"Yes, I think so. There's something odd about these eggs." she stated, continuing to cough. There was an odd, persistent itch tickling the back of her throat.

"I can't imagine what could be wrong with them." he stated, his eyebrow creased with concern.

The itching was not subsiding, in fact it was mounting into more of a burning sensation, a fire from her throat and into her lungs. It was as if the inside of her body had burst into flames. She panicked and choked on the smoke burning in her lungs, which billowed out with each gasp.

This was not good. She was running out of air; something that should be impossible. The room began to spin as smoke and fire continued to scorch her insides. She felt more and more light headed with each passing second.

Through it all she could not hear Dean calling out to her at the sight of smoke nor did she hear him bolt from the room when she became so dizzy that she fell out of her chair.

What was this? Why was this even happening? For the first time in a long time Maris was genuinely afraid. She could no longer physically die and yet here she was; burning from the inside out, choking on her own ashes. Maybe she couldn't die anymore but perhaps she had stumbled onto something worse than death itself.

Black spots began to crowd her vision as she labored harder for each breath. Any moment now the smoke alarm would be triggered by the dark plumes she coughed up. She could feel herself fading away as her vision continued to darken and her insides with fire.

Then Dean was back with a glass containing a mysterious liquid. He hovered over her as he supported the back of her head, pushed the glass between her lips, and tipped it down her throat.

"That's it. Drink it all up." he chided. He sounded so far away. She did her best not to choke on the potion as she downed it as fast as possible. The relief was almost instant as it rushed down her throat, quenching the unbearable flames. Maris coughed the last of the smoke out of her lungs as the potion reduced the internal burning. She could feel her body temperature lowering to a more natural degree as her breathing became more regular.

She slumped over exhausted from the fight against the raging fire. Dean remained crouched beside her.

"Thank you." she croaked, her voice hoarse from the ordeal.

"What was that?" he asked incredulously. Maris shook her head, bewildered.

"I don't know. I've never experienced anything like that before." Maris trailed off as an idea came to her, "What did you put in that omelette?" Dean shrugged.

"Only the usual: eggs, ham, cheese, and spinach. Oh and just a little salt for a little flavor." Maris straightened up and looked him in the eye.

"Salt!?"

"Yeah, salt. It's used to flavor things, and I thought it would be great in the omelettes. I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but you don't put much flavor in your food." Maris hid her face in her hand and sighed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend your cooking…"

"No, no. It's ok. You didn't know."

"That you prefer bland food?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"That I'm allergic to salt." Dean was silent for a moment.

"I didn't know people could be allergic to salt." It was only then that Maris realized just how closely they were sitting next to each other. She climbed off of the floor and dusted herself off. It's not him. He doesn't know you. He didn't even know about your salt allergy.

"I'm sure it's very rare, but I've been allergic all my life." She strolled over to the cupboard to get a clean glass. Noticing that he was being left behind on the floor, Dean clambered off the floor and returned to his seat. Maris may not be touching her plate anytime soon, but that didn't mean he had to stop.

"But how does that work? Salt is in a lot of things." Maris paused, glass in hand, to contemplate the best response.

"Perhaps "allergic" isn't quite right. It's more of an... intolerance. Small amounts of salt may burn a little in my throat or have no effect at all, but if I eat things with a larger amount of salt, the symptoms are a bit more...irritating as you just witnessed." she responded as she turned on the faucet to fill the glass. She could feel the remnants of the burning and her throat was screaming to be rehydrated, even after Dean's potion.

"Irritated? I thought you were going to die!"

"How can I die when I'm already dead?" she answered nonchalantly. But it was a good question as she wasn't so sure, herself, if things could have gotten worse.

"But you said that you've never experienced something like that." Dean pointed out. This also stumped Maris a little. She turned the faucet off and returned to her seat. The cursed plate of eggs was sitting right where she left it.

"Yes, I've never had a reaction that bad before, but it probably doesn't help that it's been years and years since I have eaten anything with more than a tiny bit of salt in it."

"That must have made it hard for your mother to accommodate." Maris took a long sip of water.

"Not really," The statement conjured many memories. It became clear at a very young age that salt had an effect on Maris, but despite the proof, her mother changed nothing. There were many dinners, where Maris would down glass after glass of water to flush out the salt that itched and burned at her throat, "Though what I find curious is the fact that just a little salt in an omelette was enough to trigger my allergy. It should have only caused a little burning at most."

"Perhaps since you can't die your allergy becomes more extreme instead of killing you?"

"Possible," she pondered the suggestion for a minute, "just how much salt did you use?" Maris hadn't planned on asking the question. Adam had been great at judging how much of an ingredient should be added to a potion or a stew. Considering Dean's current track record, it would be odd for him to use an abnormal amount. His sudden sheepish smile then became a surprise.

"Well, I didn't mean to use more than a teaspoon, but, well, the salt poured out faster than I anticipated?" Maris raised an eyebrow.

"So, much more than a teaspoon."

"Quite a few teaspoons."

"It's a wonder you can still enjoy those eggs with that much salt." she shook her head and pushed her plate towards him as he cleaned off his own.

"Oh, no thanks. I don't think I can finish that." Maris got up from the table to retreat to the front desk.

"Then you can save it for later if you like. I won't be touching it anytime soon."

Maris sat behind the massive desk, leafing through the pages of her spellbook. The shop entrance was now unlocked and she was open for business━not that any citizens had noticed yet.

It didn't matter; business always tended to be either slower or faster on Saturdays. Looks like this one would drag. Maris didn't care which. A faster day meant getting to use her power and skills to help people and slow days meant she had time to read through her spellbook, journals on magic, or whatever book she had hoarded away in her private study. It's what she would be doing if she had decided not to open up at all that day.

She stopped flipping through the pages. Here it is; the potion she'd been looking for. Years and years ago Adam had figured out a concoction that greatly decreased her salt intolerance and it worked wonders. She had been fine with going back to avoiding salt ever since her death, but she didn't want a repeat of breakfast again.

Maris had forgotten how good salted food could be. Truly, the omelette had been incredible until it started burning her insides. She had a feeling that Dean had used the same recipe that Adam had used, and she was also sure that it was one of the recipes that he wrote into her spellbook that one time she let him write in a few things while she supervised to make sure he didn't look at any of the book's other contents. Her success was short lived as she took a closer look at the recipe.

The heading made it clear that she had found what she was looking for. Big block letters spelled out "Salt Intolerance Serum" but the writing underneath were indecipherable symbols. At the bottom of the page in clear writing was a note, "have fun, darling!"

Maris let out a frustrated sigh. It was a game they used to play sometimes when one of them came up with something interesting. She would enchant the new incantation to make it difficult to use an he would write out a new potion in a code. From the looks of it, he had not decided to go easy on her, either. This would take a while to decode.

You could just ask Dean what he used to heal you. Her mind chastised. Maris knew this was true. He had recreated the serum from memory after all, why couldn't she just ask him?

"You're working?" Maris jerked up from her seat. She hadn't heard him come in from the back, but there he was, casually leaning against the door that led into the back.

"Yes, that's what we do here."

"Sure, during the week. But…have you ever noticed that you're the only one working during the weekend?"

"That's not true. Jack works all of the time."

"That doesn't count. Jack's going to work himself to a second death." Now Maris was more curious than defensive.

"You've been here just over a week. You sound rather confident about Jack's work ethic." Dean laughed.

"I was there one day and I watched him and the Mayor run around planning next Halloween the day right after Halloween," he paused a moment, "although maybe that was more the Mayor being anxious to start than Jack overworking himself." he mused.

"Perhaps, but don't be mistaken. Jack's not much better, and I've heard from Sally that once he gets an idea stuck in his head, he'll fixate on that one thing no matter what it is."

"Ok, so he's dedicated to his craft, but he's the Pumpkin King. What's your excuse? Are you also just that dedicated to your craft?"

"Maybe." he smiled.

"Let's get out of here."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Let's go into town. C'mon! You promised me you'd show me around to everyone. Now is as good a time as any other." He held out his arm.

"It's a lovely day out! And you did promise to take me into town soon." she had promised hadn't she?

"Well, alright then," she said taking his arm, "first we'll start with your vocabulary."

About an hour later Shock found herself sprinting through Town Square to Maris's Shop. Maris was going to kill her for being so late, and Shock didn't have a good enough excuse to save her from Maris's wrath-not that Maris ever found any of her excuses good.

"I'm here!" she gasped as she burst through the front door, "I'm so sorry. Just kill me now…" Shock couldn't believe her eyes. The shop was quiet (that wasn't new) and empty (that was new).

"Maris?" Shock looked through the shelves that lined the shop. There really weren't many places to hide in Maris's shop. At least not as many as the Witches shop had. Man, those had been good times, hiding in the shelves of Helgamine and Zeldabourne's shop with the boys as they waited for the little explosive to send paint flying everywhere or whatever little ruse they had come up with that time. It didn't take long for the old crones to tell them they were no longer welcome in the shop. Not that it mattered when they knew how to sneak in through the roof.

"Dean?" As expected, he was also staying here now, which meant she now had a coworker. Or was he also her boss? No, he was definitely a coworker. Over the last week he had made himself a permanent fixture in the shop, which made it even weirder that no one was here.

They're probably finally on a date and didn't tell me. Shock rolled her eyes as she concluded that there was, in fact, no one here. Well, it's about time those two talked. It not taken anytime at all for Shock to pick up on the odd tension between them, though she doubted that any of them were aware of it.

She turned on her heel, ready to make the trek back home and complain to the boys how she just wasted her time coming into work, but before she left she decided to leave a note to Maris proving that she had showed up.

Yeah, that would be good. Then Maris can't accuse her of being a bad apprentice who doesn't show up even though she was still late. Shock strolled over to the desk where she knew there would be ink a paper. Maybe she should put the closed sign up too so that no one else tried to come in. Shock smirked at that. That will show her that I'm a good apprentice. She thought as she started writing.

Maris,

If you want me to show up so bad, show up yourself!

Sincerely,

Shock

Perfect. She threw the quill back in the ink jar ready to head out when something on Maris's desk caught her eye. It was an open spellbook. That in itself wasn't weird, but there was no mistaking it-it was Maris's spellbook; the book she always kept away from others. Shock wasn't allowed to touch it, or read it or anything. Maris claimed it was one of the most powerful spellbooks in the world and that it was her duty to protect it from everyone but herself. It was also the spellbook with the recipe for the love potion Shock had tricked Maris into making for her.

Shock had learned the hard way that it was enchanted to hurt anyone who touched it, and therefore not allowed to be opened by anyone other than Maris a while ago, but when it was wide open it was fair game. This was her chance.

The young witch scanned the store to make sure no one had snuck in. Upon seeing no one, she approached the door and locked the shop so that she wouldn't be interrupted. She didn't need anyone watching her. With this done she took Maris's seat and gingerly laid a finger on the page, anticipating pain, and putting an immediate end to her plan. Nothing. Shock let out a sigh of relief as she started flipping through the book.

It was, indeed, a very powerful and strange book. Quick glances at the different spell and potion titles made that clear. It didn't take too long for her to find what she was looking for. She found the recipe in a chapter on dark magic. That's an odd chapter for a love potion. She thought, but her satisfaction at finding the spell overrode her curiosity.

Now she only had to copy down the spell word for word. Shock took another piece of paper and got right to it. She blew on the finished translation, overbeaming with joy. She couldn't believe it! She thought she'd lost her chance, but now she had a new opportunity. She wasn't going to waste it again.

With her mission accomplished, Shock considered leaving, but then another idea struck her. This was a very powerful spellbook, and she would probably never get a chance to look inside it ever again. She decided to go over all of it.

What felt like about an hour later, Shock was getting bored of the book. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that the book had many more protections than just on the cover. There were blank pages that were very likely to not actually be blank, spells in languages she had never heard of, and some appeared to be in some sort of indecipherable code. What wasn't protected wasn't to earth shattering. Shock was about ready to leave, but something in the back of her brain itched at her to keep going.

She was soon rewarded. Near the back of the spellbook was a journal. There were many journals all over the shop and in Maris's study, but this looked much older. Also, this wasn't some fancy journal like all of the others. This wasn't bound in cracked leather; it was just a thick spiral notebook. It didn't seem too promising, but it was odd enough to pique Shock's curiosity and see what's written inside. She didn't further than the front cover before her eyebrows perked up.

"Holy shit!" She'd hit the jackpot with this one, but didn't feel like sticking around the shop to read it and risk being caught. Shock tucked her spell into the journal and left for the treehouse. Her afternoon plans were all set.