Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: So Good News; I've already come up with a wicked first chapter start to my second Just In Case File. Bad News?… Well, I don't exactly have any bad news, but maybe some mild So-So News in that the last couple of chapters will be up before the Season 3 Premiere of "Wizards of Waverly Place." So, yeah… R&R and most importantly ENJOY!

~~*~~

Déjà vu. That's how I felt when I saw Max standing outside of Skylight, smoking, and waiting for my sorry ass.

"Wow. You look like shit." he said with no humor. He leaned forward, inspecting me, "Either Juliet complimented the hell out of you, or slapped you silly because your face looks red."

"What'd you think?" I held the door open to lead us both inside.

"I think you were a jackass and got yourself slapped."

By the time I returned to Manhattan, it was nearing the midnight hour. Hearing Juliet's side of the story only led to more questions. I knew going home would only lead to a restless night, so I did the only thing I could think of to ease my anxiety; drink.

Before heading to the Skylight, I had called Alex. Told her I'd be home late. Told her I was following up on more leads. Didn't want her to worry.

Apparently she was worried enough to know where I was really going. More so especially since she sent Max to babysit me.

"Hey Barry," I raised up two fingers, signaling my usual.

Barry, sporting a black leather vest and red sports bra from the waist up, winked at me. "Run the tab, Russo?"

I patted Max on his back, "Nah. Baby bro here is paying."

We sat down at my usual corner booth, situated farther into the bar so that I could keep an eye on who goes in and out. I only sit here during my "off" time. I never like to bring my "business" onto familiar territory.

Once one of Barry's waitresses handed our drinks, I took my bottle, clinked it to Max's and chugged it straight. Max watched me before taking a sip of his. "And you get on my ass for smoking? If I had to guess, my lung could run circles around your liver."

With my free hand, I flipped Max off. Immature, I know. I was drawing a blank for a biting remark. It was that long of a day for me.

Max chuckled, then became somber as he asked, "So how's Juliet holding up?"

"Strong." I said, feeling the alcohol buzzing through my blood stream. I held my hand up to Barry again, indicating for her to keep it coming. My eyes finally turned to Max, "Stubborn, too. She said she did it. Won't change her story."

Max nodded, "Not like the world needed another asshole attorney."

I eyed Max. Juliet's words ringing in my head. "Hey Maxie,"

"Yeah, Justin?"

"Why didn't you tell me that Charles Dye was half-and-half?"

Despite a blink of his eyes, Max's face looked to be drawing a blank. "I didn't?" He took a sip of his drink, "Huh."

"'Huh'?" I looked at him. "That all you gotta say?"

He shrugged. "Okay… how about 'Well, shit. My bad?'"

You know what pisses me off? That feeling. That feeling you get when people are keeping things from you despite you getting that whiff that something's up. That annoying feeling that they know you're going to figure it out, yet they choose to prolong the inevitable.

"Must have slipped my mind." Max said, nonchalance oozing out of his ass.

"Bullshit, little brother." I growled. "Why'd you withhold information like that?"

"Does it matter?" Max looked bristled. "Half-wizard… half-vampire… mortal… werewolf… mermaid… Whatever the hell Charles Dye is… doesn't matter! He's dead! And his girl is in jail because she avenged his death… What should matter is what you're going to do about that."

"How can I help her when she doesn't want--" I stopped myself. Stopped myself because something that Max had said stuck out like a bad hangnail.

It was small. But I caught it. I wasn't that drunk yet not to. I looked at him, curious, "What you just said… Didn't make any sense."

Max stared at me like I was crazy, which all things considered… I nodded, "What you said… You didn't use past tense."

Now Max blinked. "What?"

"You said 'is.' You didn't refer to him as a 'was.' Max…" I leaned forward, "Why'd you say that?"

Alex isn't the only one quick to covering her mistakes. He held his bottle up, "Must've been the alcohol, bro. I'm not the best wordsmith once the buzz starts."

I smacked the bottle out of his hand. The late night drunks still hanging out had jumped as the bottle shattered. Even Barry looked up, but then shrugged and resumed to business as usual. And Max? Well, Max had years to perfect his poker face. He didn't even bat an eye.

"Don't." I snarled, "Don't fuck with me, bro. What are you hiding?"

We silently stared each other down. I could feel the electricity of my powers mingle with my emotions, none of them friendly towards Max right now.

It seemed like eternity, but one of us made a move. Max slid out of his side of the booth, stood towering over me as he retrieved his wallet from his jacket. As he thumbed out a couple of bills, "Get some sleep, Justin. Sober up. Clear your head… You'll eventually figure it out." He tossed the money on the table, "Because you're you. The smartest of us all. Justin Russo, the great problem-solver." He leaned closer, growling, "Just don't fuckin' take it out on us when you discover that you don't like the answers."

~~*~~

The year before I got my powers, I had my heart stepped on by a leggy blonde. So I did what any average American male does when he gets his emotions spanked; I got drunk.

Six beers, three tequila shots, five whiskey shots, and a vodka bottle later; I was shit-faced and wishing to any god to put me out of my misery.

Four years later, dad died and mom was a popsicle. My sister was a criminal and my brother was a traitor. Go figure I get shit-faced again.

A case of Coors, a bottle of tequila, whiskey, and vodka later; I was sporting a nice buzz and discovering that between my years of randomly drinking and wizard powers, I had an amazingly high tolerance for alcohol.

So you can imagine, couple more years later, just how insanely high my tolerance had gotten just to have me, four o'clock in the morning, passed out in my office and wishing for death to come.

~~*~~

It didn't, by the way.

"Justin…" Poke.

Death.

"Justin…" Poke.

Though why am I not surprised that death sounded like my sister?

"Rise and shine, my little alcoholic." Poke. Poke.

I groaned and hissed as sunlight entered into my office.

"Oh, relax, you baby!" Alex said, "You're not a vampire. You're just a wizard suffering from a major hangover." I blinked against the searing lights, blindly reaching for my sunglasses. As I found and promptly sported them, I felt a cup and three tiny pills being shoved into my hands.

"Here." Alex explained, standing over me with an amused grin, "Those should help you fight the migraine. I know since becoming a wizard you've developed a high tolerance for crap, so I took it upon myself to order the strong shit."

I mumbled a thanks and immediately gulped the pills and water down. Ever so slowly I felt a light fizzle softening through my brain where the migraine was clustering around. I blinked up at Alex from behind my shades, "What're you doing here at--" I pulled out my pocket watch, "Holy crap, it's one in the afternoon?!"

"Duh. I work here." Alex grinned, "Not to mention how could I not be here to wake my favorite brother up from a drunken slumber to tell him that he looks like shit."

"Why are you perky?" I glared, rubbing my temple and getting up from my seat to stretch.

She smiled at me, much like a cat that swallowed a canary, before she walked out to her desk, "So I woke up this morning to an empty apartment…"

"Alex--"

She returned with a coffee cup and a white to-go bag, "Had a slight panic attack, wondering where you were, when I realized that in an attempt to shield me from whatever fucked up state you'd gotten into last night, in a moronic -- albeit kind of sweet -- gesture you decided to crash here…" As she plopped the bag onto my desk and practically shoved the coffee into my hands, she added, "So I spent most of my Justin-free morning partly cleaning and partly wondering how I would make you pay for not coming home and, on top of all that, missing out on an awesomely home-cooked meal I made last night."

I eyed my coffee and whatever was inside the bag. "These aren't poisoned, are they?"

"FYI, shit like this is probably why you're going to remain single for the rest of your life." She sneered before stomping out to her desk, "I'm blood, so I have to put up with this crap…"

Now I know why I don't get shit-faced often; the morning after rant from Alex in addition to the raging remains of my hangover.