First Saga: Cataclysm in Repose

by Nabiki GMYW

Who decides what is good or bad luck? What if you could change your luck for the better? Can it be possible? After all, luck is just an interpretation of reality, not reality itself…isn't it?

Cataclysm in repose

By: Nabiki GMYW

Brief summary: Who decides what is good or bad luck? What if you could change your luck for the better? Can it be possible? After all, luck is just an interpretation of reality, not reality itself…isn't it?

Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, I am poor. There. I said it. Happy now? Comments always welcomed. E-mail me at paganj@caribe.net . You now behold my attempt at doing a short and 'mental' fanfic. It's neither, but it was fun to try. Takes part after 'Memory Lane', so Owen doesn't have the stone fist anymore and Puck isn't powerless anymore. Just how that came to be? Go back and read it! RIGHT NOW!

Muchas thank-you to Ordeysia, who edited my work and fixed grammar-spelling mistakes. If you find some, be sure to blame her. ;-)

I - ALL ABOARD

The two gentlemen made their way to the library at a quick pace, like children with a brand-new toy. Actually, only one was excited as a boy, the other one showed no signs of emotions other than a vague fascinated mood.

David Xanatos, dressed up in black as always, placed a small wooden box he had been carrying on the table in front of him. He opened the lid to reveal an old leather book that looked ancient, as if right out of a museum.

"This is it, Owen." Xanatos said joyful. "Merlin's spell-book." He gazed at it with awe. "You know MacBeth had bought the Scrolls of Merlin, believing they contained spells. It's a shame they turned out to be a diary, but this," he gazed at the book again, "This is the real thing."

"It's a fine acquisition, I do believe." Owen replied.

Xanatos took out the book and examined it. A soft 'aha' was heard as the millionaire tried to open the book, since the pages seemed to be glued together. "Just as I suspected. A magic seal."

"Yes, according to MacBeth, the Scrolls had a similar seal. It was Merlin's security precautions. Magic must be used to open it. MacBeth managed to open them, perhaps he could be of some assistance to us."

"Yeah," replied Xanatos while a devious smile played in his lips. "But why call him when I have you?"

"Sir, you know I can't do magic without Alexander--"

"But the sorcerers gave your magic back."

Owen opened his mouth and closed it again. That was about the last subject that he wanted to deal with right now. Yes, he had his magic back, but did Xanatos had to remind him of so everyday? "I'm afraid I'm still not ready. I need time to reorganize myself. My new magic is still untamed."

"It's untamed because you never use it." Responded Xanatos. "So you've had a few accidents--"

"A few?"

"All right, lot's of accidents." Xanatos was forced to admit, "So who cares if you broke a few measly water pipes. It's the thought that counts."

"The thought?" replied Owen, and he couldn't help but be sarcastic about it. "The crystal and it's magic are a curse, not a blessing. I still don't understand the science to it." He tried to hide a sigh. "Just how did I blow up the microwave is still a mystery to me…"

"That's because you tried out doing big things. You need to start small. And opening a magic seal seems simple enough."

Owen looked reluctant at his master, but acceded anyway. Besides, it was simple enough. What could go wrong? He reached out to the book and immediately noticed the ward. It was a regular seal, enough to scare away a mediocre sorcerer or an apprentice. But not him, no, he was fey, he knew better.

He could feel the seal fading away, the magic inside the book fighting to get out. It was all going so terribly well.

Then it all went down the drain.

For he soon realized that it was going too fast, that he was using too much energy to open the seal, that he needed to stop. But the magic was out of control and it was terrifying because he had never, never lost control.

That was three days ago, and the maintenance crew still hadn't been able to take off the charred, glued, and overall ugly little spot of lava that had once been the Book of Merlin off the ceiling. Perhaps they never would. Needless to say, he felt like hell.

Somehow, 'oops' didn't cover it.

TRACK A

It was a rather late night. Not to mention terribly boring. Maybe because all Puck did tonight was pace around his room, watch tv, stare out the window and start all over again.

"Can I come in, lad?" said a deep Scottish voice that could only belong to Hudson.

"Well, I was about to hang myself with the sheets, but what the hell…" came the casual reply.

The old gargoyle never did quite enter the room. Puck couldn't remember any time he actually did. Maybe because they had never really talked before. But Puck, never one to lack versatility in awkward situations, asked causally, "What's up?"

"Just wanted to inform you we finally got the charred book from the ceiling and that Lexington asks when will be Alexander's next magic lesson." Replied Hudson.

"Never." Came the dry reply. "Chances are the next time I do magic I'll blow the whole building up."

"Ah, now lad." He replied, "We all know these last few months have been tough fer you. With that strange sorcerers giving you yuir magic back an' all. We've all known of those unlucky accidents with the magic."

Images of the book of Merlin, the water pipe, the dragon and the living telephone danced in Puck's head. What's happening to me? was all that he wondered day in and day out. The last few months had been hell. Those sorcerers gave him his magic back, but with a few extras. A few uncontrollable extras.

For they hadn't given him his magic back, per se.

What they did gave him was what might be called a magical artifact. And it sent his world spiraling into hell.

* * *

Not so long ago, it had begun well enough.

Well, no. That's a lie.

It hadn't begun well; it was all screwed up since the second he woke up. First, he woke with an unimaginable headache that it hurt to think. Then, he had this strange feeling that he had forgotten something. Like when you leave the house in a hurry, then you wonder if you closed the door, or left the iron on, or left your wallet in there. Third, his stone fist was gone. Poof. Just like that, for no apparent reason.

It was all the signs of an ill-omen day. One you should spend in bed, and never crawl out.

Then what was he doing in this strange office, facing three nameless people; two men and a woman, that were talking as if they owned the universe…?

Worse, that perhaps they really owned the universe?

The First Man, Puck would soon notice, was characterized for being cool calm and collected. He, who didn't have a name, seemed to be a balance in the trio of immortals, always saying the right things, often ordering them around, though not always.

The Second Man seemed more impatient and straight forward than the first, often rude at times, he didn't seem to care for the first's orders. As Puck would remember later, he was something of a rogue, not a very pleasant person.

Now she was a sight. She seemed to be the driving force of the trio. Attractive, no model, but attractive. She had an impish smile, often sweet, but as Puck would remember much later, also sarcastic. Which was a pity, because later he would feel regret over losing her. His nights had never seemed the same since she left.

The night she showed him what they did to him was absolutely wondrous. For a brief moment, he thought he saw the universe and learned all its secrets…but then it had stopped. Still, he found himself laugh hilariously to himself, yelling, "That was great! I loved it! It's like a mind trip, like, like, like being high, like knowing everything in the world, all the secrets of everybody!"

"Like being a god?" The Woman had smirked proudly.

Puck turned methodical, "Actually, I was going to say its like sex. Only better."

"So. What did you see?"

He remembered her smiling at him, she was so beautiful when she wanted to be.

Puck chuckled absentmindedly. "It's like being on a trip. Smoking something, you know. No, it's more like dreaming. You see so many…so many images, such…" He paused; slowly his expression shifted from wonderment into despair. "That's it, isn't it? That's what you've done to me… "

"You should feel honored." She said, "Yes. We like to call in a Talisman. I don't think I've ever seen it before up close. It's a charm of incredible power. There're 12 talismans around, which means there are 11 more inside other beings around. You will never find them, of course. They don't know it and they never will. But that's because they are mortal. Long lived mortals, but mortals nonetheless. Who knows? Maybe in all your years you might've stumbled in on one of them without knowing it. And that makes you a rarity."

"But I wasn't the only one, wasn't I?" Puck mumbled softly, staring intently at the floor, "And he's dead. He took his own life, didn't he?" He looked up to her, "Didn't he? He couldn't stand it! What was his name?"

"That does not matter. Nobody would remember."

"That's not the point! I need a name! In that little trip of yours you took out his name! I—" He paused again, in sudden realization, "He was one of your people…and you three…You were there! You were there when Avalon was created!"

He jumped to his feet and took several steps back. She was unmoved as Puck continued, "You blocked it on purpose, but I saw something." He paused again, "I saw someone else. It wasn't always three…" he closed his eyes again, "there was a fourth…" He grunted frustrated and yelled, "But how could I know this!? What was that trip? Why did I feel like…like I knew everything that exists? It faded away already, but for a second, I—"

"Became a god?" She snickered.

He didn't reply. Not immediately. But then he went his knees next to her, a desperate move. "Was that it?" he said, "That's what this thing does? Powers you up?"

"More or less." Queen relied dully, "You know Oberon took away your powers. Let's just say my little trinket melded with you and is supplying your missing energy. A second heart, so to speak. The other one does not concern you. He's been dead since humans reckon time. It's not your right to know…but he killed himself because he was greedy. He defied us. Though he had the power to be a god, he would've made a lousy god. We put an end to his stupidity. So he killed himself instead." She simply shrugged, "It's all for the better, I guess…plus, as with everybody, the Talisman got him… moody."

Puck's expression dropped. "Moody?" he incredulously repeated, "Define 'moody'…"

The woman sighed frustrated and tried hard to come up with a nice way of breaking the news to him, "Ok…the crystal, I told you, sort of supplies and enhances powers… if not wielded carefully, magic is a problem… But, eh, in being such as yourself, that is created and breathing because of magic, if you twiddle around with the magic, you are actually affecting the whole person… am I making any sense?"

"Nope."

Queen groaned to herself, "It enhanced your magic, but it also enhanced your emotions, you get it now? The Talisman gets people… emotional. Sort of like women around that time of the month…"

He looked at her disgusted and said, "Don't say that… you mean I'm gonna… I'm gonna be a sentimental idiot once a month!?"

"Actually, no." Queen was careful to point out. "It hits you when you least expect it. Kinda like maniac depression. Specially under stress, " she shook her head and laughed awkwardly, "The Talisman, well, eh… doesn't work well under stress…heh… and because magic and emotions are so intimately linked, I'd always keep a cool head if I were you."

Puck merely stared at her for a long, long time. "Oh, my God. I'm cursed with menopause."

"Eh, its maniac depression…"

"It's the same thing and you know it!"

He simply refused think about it. If Owen Burnett ever broke down on a Titanic showing, Puck would do the merciful and throw themselves from the balcony.

Oh, it was all happening too damn fast. He tried to reach to the brief glimpses of what he saw on his 'trip', but they all eluded him. But he couldn't shake the feeling he was missing something.

Or someone.

"Why don't I remember the night before I woke without my stone fist?" He quietly inquired, "Why erase it?"

Queen unsmilingly pondered the answer, then said, "A strange artifact has just been shoved into your system. In a few days, if you let yourself go with it, you'll be so powerful… but somehow, the memories of mind-bending pain would spoil the experience."

"You said 'if'…" Puck began to argue, "What happens when I let myself go…?"

She smiled again, "Because you can go with it or you can deny it. But it'll stay in there…" She paused for a moment as she placed her right hand on his chest, "…forever."

* * *

Puck snapped out of his daydream and faced Hudson. "It's not fair, you know." He said, then turned back to stare at the window. "I never asked for this."

"Life is never fair." Replied the old gargoyle. "So you've got to notice the good things you've got. Yuir magic for example."

"What magic?" he echoed sarcastically. "Oh, it amplified it, all right. Now it's so powerful I can't control it. I'm a walking time bomb!"

"Oh, you'll live. You're a survivor. You'll get through this yet."

Puck half-listened to him. "Can you believe it?" he kept going. "Not only did they gave me this 'talisman', she also betrayed me!"

Hudson had never really heard the 'gory details' about Puck's relationship with the woman. It had been stormy, that he knew, and for months he hadn't mentioned her. Only on brief occasions like this one, exclaiming how evil she was, but he never added anything. Hudson and everyone else knew better than to push the subject.

"You know," Puck continued, "I've known bad luck all my life. But this… this really sucks… " he sighed, "Makes me wanna wish to end it all…" His attention was divided between watching the window and Hudson. "It's a beautiful night, you know." He commented absentmindedly. "I've never really stopped to watch the evening sky, but it's really beautiful. But the stars…"

The stars… He'd never been big on tarot or astrology or the likes. Considered them a waste of time. But that had declined over the years. After seeing how Xanatos created a paradox where the future is the past and the past was the future, conviction that fate had nothing to do with life was gone.

He was sure the stars had something to do with his bad luck. It was their fault he was so miserable. Part of him felt that bad luck was hot on his trail, and that made him nervous.

Very Nervous.

You know you don't have to put up with this, said a little voice. If luck fails us, you know you have another option, don't you?

I know, he whispered, and suddenly he felt better.

"It's all the stars fault, I know…" he said more to himself than Hudson.

Hudson grasped that gloomy last sentence, and gloomy didn't fit someone as vivacious as Puck, so he tried to cheer him up by saying, "Now, come on. They did gave you that book, didn't they?" Hudson scanned the room, looking for it, and saw it lying on a night table, "Here it is. Have you read it?"

"The Talisman and you---God, I hate that tittle." Hudson had to admit that there was a certain imbecility to it, but didn't say anything. The old gargoyle assumed it was like a slap in the face for Puck, after all, those three stormed in his life, turned it upside down, and their 'I'm-sorry' gift it's called 'The Talisman and you'? "I don't understand it." Puck continued matter-of-factly. "Reads like a stereo manual instructions."

"Then try again. With a dictionary."

"It's useless." Puck replied, hinting a bit of sadness in his voice. "Sometimes I think I was born under a bad star." He smirked a bitter smirk, and turned back to Hudson. "I may be the unluckiest fey in the face of Earth."

"That's nonsense." Hudson replied. "I've always believe you make yer own luck."

"Not when you're a fey, you don't." Puck defensively replied. "There are thousands of factors, magic patterns, blue moons, whatevers that change luck. That change my luck. That's why my magic doesn't work. If I'm going to get over this, I need to change the bad luck that talisman brought me."

"You can't blame the stars for every little accident in your life. Suppose you trip and a glass figurine in your hands falls and gets shattered. What's a blue moon or a talisman got to do with it?"

"I don't know!" he snapped, defensive because he didn't know what to say. "Magic I guess."

"Magic has decided to shatter the figurine? What did the figurine ever do to deserve such punishment?"

"Maybe it was ugly, or didn't go with the decoration of the house."

"That doesn't make any sense, and you know it." Replied Hudson. "Things only happen and that's it. It is us who decide where'ver it is good or bad, because we often don't understand why us, why now. The point is that there is no point."

Puck chuckled. "Now that really doesn't make sense."

"Well, maybe that's the point." Replied Hudson with an impish smile that made Puck proud. "The cure the bad luck is simply this: try to look at the bright side of things. Then you'll find things aren't as nearly as bad as you thought they were." Then he added with that fatherly tone he often used with the rest of the clan when they were little, "Puck, everything bad that could've happened to you already happened…Things can't possibly get any worst…"

* * *

The sun fell once more in Manhattan, and the gargoyles, one by one, woke up from their stone sleep. While the rest were still stretching, Lexington quickly made a dive to inside the castle.

"Gotta go now, I'll see you later guys!" he called out briefly.

"Hey! Where're you going?" replied Brooklyn.

"I'm going to help Owen with Alex. He plans to give a magic lesson tonight."

The other gargoyles moaned in disgust. "Lex, why don't you talk him out of it?" asked Goliath. "We all know of his…accidents…"

"Lex, we really don't want to be attacked by flying knives…" Broadway added worrily, "Again."

"Come on!" Angela commented. "He deserves a chance to try again."

"True," Hudson continued. "He'll get a grip on his powers if he uses 'em."

They all looked at Goliath, expecting some kind of order. He stood thoughtfully and finally said, "I've no power over him. If he wants to try again, I can't stop him. But if so, then we better leave for patrol later… just in case."

* * *

At Alex's room, brightly decorated with blue and little toy cars, Lexington arrived to see that the fey was about to start.

"Hey, uncle Lex. You're late." Puck reprimanded, "Tardiness isn't accepted."

"Something came up." The olive gargoyle replied, "Breakfast."

"Whatever." Puck said, then took Alex out of his crib.

He was rather old for that crib, and Puck made a mental note to tell that to Xanatos later. And talking about later, where are the gargoyles? He could hear them rummage through the castle, and he wondered why they weren't out for patrol yet.

"They decided to stay," answered Lex. "No criminals tonight I guess."

Puck knew he was lying through his teeth, but didn't say anything. They were worried he might burn something and kill someone. Shows how much they trust me…they're all afraid of me because they're afraid I'll burn their precious castle, he thought, and tried to think nothing of it.

But the thought wouldn't go away, it was there, and it was getting stronger. They just don't trust me, said the little voice, only it sounded a bit more resentful this time.

"Guess what Alex!" he told the child with his best cheerful voice. "We're going to play with firecrackers!"

"Ehh…"

"Anything wrong, private Lex?" Puck said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Is that safe?" he replied, "I mean, with all that's happened and stuff." Puck shot him a black look. "Just a comment, forget it."

You're wary of me? I'll give you a reason to be wary of me, was all that echoed in his mind.

What are you, insane? another voice yelled. Don't do anything stupid…

He realized that playing with fire spells was unwise, given his weakened position. At least, that was what half of him thought. The other half told him to "give them hell, they don't have to do this, might as well give them a reason…"

"How 'bout I give you a little demonstration?" he said, and Alex clapped, as a voice sighed and said, There goes the neighborhood…

Lexington was apprehensive when he heard it, but now he was seriously worried. But at least he had the common sense of not questioning him. But do you really want to give them a reason? Questioned the little voice, but he ignored it. Are you really, really sure? The little voice asked.

He didn't bother to answer. He let his actions answer for him.

That was it, that was all.

* * *

"You burned Alex's crib!?" was all David Xanatos could muster.

"Oh, don't looked so shocked. It needed to be changed anyway." Puck turned to Hudson, "Good in bad, remember?"

Xanatos sighed and looked at Goliath. "You mind explaining it to me again?" He, and the rest of the gargoyles, started to retell how Puck, that irresponsible bastard, decided to give a 4th of July show for Alex and almost burned down the entire room.

"Thank God for the gargoyles," commented Puck, sitting in the chair in front of Xanatos desk, looking as if he just didn't care, "If they hadn't been hiding behind the door with a fire extinguisher, I dread the possibilities."

Sarcasm was painfully clear, and one thing Goliath didn't put up with, was upstart feys. "Well, if you would've been wise enough to know that you can't do magic anymore, maybe this wouldn't happen."

"You," Puck replied, "have no right to pry."

"We do if the security of the castle is compromised."

"You sound just like George Orwell's Big Brother. 'Saving' people from themselves, even if they don't want to."

Goliath growled, not finding the comparison to a totalitarian leader amusing. "Then restrain yourself from causing any more damage, trickster!"

"Oh, come on." Replied Xanatos, "What's wrong with you? We've been nothing but supportive to you. When those three left you, we tolerated accidents and your ill moods."

"What 'ill moods'?" Puck shot defensive.

"These last few months you've been happy one moment, miserable the next. What's going on?" questioned Angela.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Most of the time, it's all 'I-don't-wanna-do-this' 'I-don't-want-to-do-that'… light up." Lex answered.

"Because nothing I do is right!" Puck snapped back, "The stars have decided to drive someone nuts and I'm it! Makes me wanna jump off a window all the time!"

"Yeah, but today you looked as if you wanted to screw up on purpose." Lex commented, and if looks could kill, this would've been 'It' for the olive-green gargoyle.

"Is this true?" asked Xanatos.

"That's bullshit!"

"I'm beginning to think it is true." Added Goliath, "This and all those times. His looking to make us feel sorry for him from our part."

"Sorry for what, you poor excuse for a water pipe?" Puck replied, "I don't need your pity."

"It's about Them, isn't it?" said Xanatos, saying 'Them' with a particularly irritating emphasis.

"I'm over that."

"Are you sure?" asked Xanatos again, with the same emphatic tone.

Puck shot him a look, "Yeah, I'm sure, Dave."

"Personally," commented Goliath, "I think that the only reason these so-called accidents happen is because he wants them to happen. He's down, and wants to drag everyone down. After all," he added with a sardonic touch, "Misery loves company."

Puck turned to the gargoyle leader, with a calmness that didn't hide very well the storm behind his eyes. "Do me a favor, Goli-baby. Burn in hell."

Goliath would've jumped him, if it weren't for the rest of the gargoyles, who held him back like a bull out of control. The last thing that he remembered was walking out of there and not looking back.

* * *

"That's what you'll never understand, Goliath." He said out loud while looking in his medicine cabinet. "Some people don't want to be saved."

Not only had the gargoyles humiliated him by spying on him, now it was beginning to be a habit to them. Go check on the Puck, he might burn something. Ha, ha. This had been going on for a week now. Talk about unlucky. Not only was he weak, he had a bunch of gargoyles babysitting him. Perhaps he was indeed born under an unlucky star.

He wasn't going to put up with their shit any longer.

Twenty yellow ones. That would be it, that would be all.

Twenty nebutals would be the end of it. He'd seen it in a movie. A girl, he didn't know why, wanted to kill herself and globbed down twenty nebutals, then called her boyfriend to save her. They called her a passive. Maybe they'll call him an active, considering he wasn't planning on calling anyone to 'save' him.

He looked and looked and looked but didn't find them. "Where?" he mumbled, then remembered. He had thrown it out by accident, one day he was cleaning the cabinet.

"Damn! I really am unlucky! I can't even kill myself right!" He started pacing around. Damn the stars! Damn the fate! Damn it all! Damn! What the hell. I can jump down a window if I want to…

Don't be a fool. You won't kill yourself. Not today, at least, said a little voice, and Owen found himself admitting so. "What the hell am I going to do now!?"

It was all written in the stars, he knew. And they had picked him because they had nothing better to do. They wouldn't let him, he would be miserable for the rest of time because they wouldn't let him.

Then change it…

How? What the hell can I do?

The book…

His eyes drifted from the window to the book and he picked it up. He started to read it somewhere in the middle, but couldn't understand it. So he opted for the index, see what he was up against in the first place, and something definitely caught his attention.

"Chapter thirteen: How to bend the Rules of Probability."

It was as if the gates of heaven opened up for him.

Probability? Bend the Rules of Probability? Bend the rules of Luck? No, it's impossible…said a little voice, but someone else answered, To bend the Rules of Probability is a fascinating prospect to you, and you'd hate to part without first learning what was that about.

He drifted from the book, to the window, to the book again. Chances are the book won't work. It would be a pathetic waste of time, and rather than waste time, everything could be finished in thirty seconds…

But still… what if?

Humanity's greatest inventions were based in a single question, what if? What if we tried to do this, what if we tried to do that, what if, what if, what if?

What if you could change Luck itself?

* * *

"Come on, Hudson. You'll rot in front of the tv! I need your help." Puck grabbed the gargoyle by the arm and almost had to drag him to his room. Alex, believing this was some kind of game, also dragged mimicking his uncle's actions.

"Yeah, grandpa Hudson!" he said, "Come do magic with us!"

Denying Puck was one thing, but saying no to a sweet child like Alexander was another. "Oh, fine, fine. Just what do you need me for?"

He entered to Owen and Puck's room to find it dark and adorned with white candles everywhere. The look of the room reminded Hudson of when he was a boy and how he explored the caves near the castle with a single torch for company.

Meanwhile, Puck finished lighting up a few candles that were still unlighted. "You know, your gonna love this, old man." He commented. "This is all your idea."

"My idea?"

"Yeah. Remember how you said that magical forces have nothing to do with luck?" He finished lighting the last candle and turned to Hudson, "Well, they do."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I read the book." He handled Hudson the leather book, marked under a chapter called 'How to bend the Rules of Probability.'

"Unbelievable." Replied the old gargoyle.

"Another idea of yours, you big genius, you!"

"But I don't understand. How does it work?" said Hudson reading over lightly. "What kind of spell is this?"

"It's not a spell. And that's the whole point." Puck replied, while Hudson stared blankly. "You see, I've been reading it wrong. I thought this book was some kind of advanced spell book: It's not. That's why my spells aren't working, because with the talisman, spells can't be done. This," he said with an awe and confidence, "is a book on self-hypnosis."

"Self-hypnosis?" Hudson echoed, "What's that?"

"You know that dude we hired for Alex's birthday? The so-called magician that convinced Detective Bluestone he was a dog? He was a hypnotist. A hypnotist in a guy that puts you into a dream-like state and makes you remember whatever it is you forgot. He says, 'remember this', and you do. Hypnotism is about the sub-conscious. Some psychiatrists use it to make people remember things that they buried in their memory because it was too traumatic or stuff. Or charlatans, like Matt's case, convince you, you're another thing, like a dog."

"And what does that have to do with bending the rules of luck?"

"I'm getting there." He replied, "Self-hypnosis is about convincing your own sub-conscious mind about something. Multiple personalities are thought to be created by self-hypnosis. The person's 'real' personality can't deal with whatever it is that happens, so he convinces himself that he is another, and the 'other' personality takes command. You can also convince yourself that a lie is the truth or that you're a dog. Your pick. Now this is the good part."

"I can't do spells because that capability has grown. I used spells to channel energy, but that thing is so powerful, that doesn't give me control anymore. I've got to admit it, I don't know why did they gave me this thing, I'm too primitive--- don't go babbling to everyone I said that--- and I need something else to control me. In this case, a self-hypnosis will do."

"Let me get this straight." Replied Hudson, "From what I make out, you plan to convince yourself you can do something… and you'll be able to do it?"

"That's right! I knew you could figure it out!"

"But cannea you do it by yurself? In fact, I don't think you need magic to convince yurself yu're lucky."

"Yes, I do." Replied Puck, suddenly serious. "I may think I'm lucky, but that doesn't mean I will be lucky. According to what I've read, if I'm really, really convinced, whatever I think will be real. It's no different from any other spell. Perhaps if I learn to believe I can do a fireball, I will really do a fireball."

"Suppose you really can convince yurself you can do a fireball. How will that belief turn into reality?"

"Well, Hudson, we call that magic."

Hudson groaned worried. "Well, that still don' explain why ye need me. Ye have to do yur own hypnosis."

"No, I won't. You will hypnotize me."

"Why!?"

"Because I can't do it for myself. I'm not really into meditation. I get bored, lose it and end up falling asleep."

Hudson was apprehensive about the whole plan, but still… Even if the magic didn't happen, Puck would have the illusion that it really was happening.

He had been aware of Puck's ill moods, just like everyone else. So what if what he thought was real wasn't really so? As long as it keeps him happy, well, go ahead.

After all, some lies are more powerful than the truth, aren't they?

"All right, what do I have to do?"

* * *

Hudson could still remember little Alexander's first birthday. Xanatos had been so joyous, he invited everyone he could think of, from the mutates in the labyrinth to Matt and Elisa.

Matt still regretted coming, for Xanatos had hired the magician more to amuse himself than the boy. He had suckered Matt into going along, and by the end of the day, he thought he was a dog. Everyone thought he was in league with the magician but it turned out to be real.

What they were doing right now was no different. They opted for a golden watch; after all, it had worked for Matt, hadn't it?

Puck, however, was more strong willed than Matt, and it took awhile before he ever got sleepy. "Are you sleepy yet?"

"You're not supposed to ask every five minutes, you know…"

Eventually, he didn't talk back, and he was sleepy for real. By the dragon! It really works! He thought amazed, until a more serious thought took over, he didn't tell me what to do next…He thought back to the birthday party and all the movies he had seen. All seemed to wake up with a word. Every time someone said the word, the person would switch from one state to another.

"Puck, you will wake up with…" Hudson looked for something, anything.

"Rumpelstiltskin! Uncle read me a story on Rumpelstiltskin!" said the little voice of Alex next to him.

"Rumpelstiltskin?" echoed Hudson, surprised.

"Rumpelstiltskin…" echoed Puck dreamily.

Hudson turned back and realized he screwed up. Well, he thought, it worked for him… "Rumpelstiltskin it is, lad, and every time ye hear it the power of bending luck to yuir favor shall be turned off, and when ye hear it again, it will be turned on again, until the spell is undone."

Puck woke up a few minutes later. "What happened?"

"Ya got your wish, lad. Now be careful with it."

You worry over nothing, Hudson thought, as long as he believes it, everything will be all right…

* * *

Owen woke up again the next day feeling no different. Everything was like always. The sun was shinning, the birds were singing, yadda, yadda, yadda. He, like Hudson, was still skeptical. But he hoped against hope that it would work.

If something bad happened today… he didn't know what would happen…

Instead of going directly to Xanatos office, he already knew he was expected in the parking lot. Xanatos was going to quite a few meetings, and now that his stone fist was gone, he was driving.

"Nope, you're not going." Said Xanatos as he entered the limo.

"How come, sir?" was all that he could ask as another man, the young, 20-something Mr. Stevenson, entered the drivers seat.

"I need you to supervise the security upgrade in the castle," replied Xanatos, "You can never be too careful."

"Of course not, sir." He replied as cold as ever.

As the limo prepared to pull out and he made his way back in the building, Owen couldn't help but wonder if not going to the meeting was a good thing or a bad thing.

He'd know in a second.

For the moment Xanatos' limo pulled out of the parking lot and into the street, Owen heard a loud crash and a lot of screeching cars. He looked back and saw that the limo had been in a head on collision, which wasn't hard to notice; it was a mess.

Xanatos got out of the car before Owen could reach him, and he saw the millionaire go tsk-tsk as he opened the driver's door.

"Sir, what happened?"

"Some idiot cut us off…he…" Xanatos gazed at Mr. Stevenson---or what was left of him. "Poor boy. He never had a chance."

Owen could've fainted, from perhaps of seeing Stevenson, or the fact that he could've been Stevenson, or perhaps a bit of both.

Everything happened fast afterwards. Cops came in, asked a few questions, cops left and came back with an ambulance for Stevenson. The only vivid memory Owen would remember of the whole day sometime later was hearing Xanatos say, "You know, you were really lucky today…"

* * *

"Oww!"

"Another one?"

"Yes!" replied Goliath as he yanked another piece of stone from his talon. "Third time this week." He stared at the little annoyance and sighed. Odd, this had never happened to me before…and with such frequency…

"Can you believe this outbreak of bad luck?" asked Brooklyn.

"Yeah." Added Broadway, "All this week, muggings have gone wrong, bad guys got away and Elisa has a cold. This is not normal."

"This week has been peculiar." Goliath replied, warily. "As if Lady Luck herself has turned her back on us."

"Are you kidding! I almost got killed yesterday!" exclaimed Lex. "What's going on?"

"My wing still hurts from that fall Monday…" added Brooklyn.

"I'm still suffering from that sushi from hell I ate yesterday…" commented Broadway.

"And I can't find the necklace Elisa gave me last Christmas!" said Angela, "You guys haven't seen it yet, have you?"

"Perhaps this simply isn't our week…" commented Lex, "At least Xanatos is doing better than us…"

* * *

"Mr. Xanatos? Is that you?" asked Brooklyn to the man with the swollen face that looked more like a freak of nature than a human.

Xanatos, who was enraged enough by his appearance, said, "Please, quit staring. So you know, I'm allergic to shrimp and this is what happened." Another sneeze made Owen look up once to his boss. "Would you pass me another Kleenex?" he said, his voice almost unrecognizable. Not only his voice, his whole face was red and swollen; and he was constantly sneezing and coughing.

"You? Allergic to fish?" questioned Angela, "But you're the son of a fisherman."

"I know. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Don't you think that's strange…?" commented Lex.

"You bet it is!" exclaimed Xanatos, "I've never been allergic to anything, let alone fish or shrimp. If I were, I would've died a long time ago. The doc said this had to be the worst case of shrimp allergy he'd ever seen in his life. And I ate only one!" replied Xanatos, almost out of air. "My pop catches shrimp for a living! How can I be allergic?"

"I don't know, but at least it was only one." Broadway replied. "Maybe they were poisoned or not well cooked."

"Poison! That's it! Demona! That bitch! I'm gonna sue her ass!" then he burst into another fit of cough.

"Lie down, Mr. Xanatos." Owen commented, "You need your rest."

"And you ate too?" questioned Broadway to the blond man.

"I'm afraid so."

"But you look so well! No fever, rash, anything?" interjected Brooklyn.

"Nothing."

"Yeah, nothing." Xanatos added, "He ate 5."

"Six, actually."

"Whoa." Replied Angela, "You are really lucky!" she said with true admiration, but Owen said nothing.

"Xanatos, this pass week has been too strange for comfort." Continued Goliath, "As you've noticed so well. Elisa, Matt, us, you, Fox… everyone has been affected…"

"You're telling me?" Xanatos replied, pointing at his face, "I still don't believe it. Everyone ate, including Owen, and is he sick? No! It's gotta be me and only me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear there would be foul play here."

"By who?"

"I don't know. No one. Everyone. The possibilities are endless. Maybe," he said with resignation, "We're just having bad luck."

* * *

Hudson leaned back in the beach chair and sighed contently. With a shot of something called 'piña colada', he watched as the clan enjoyed a picnic in the castle. A picnic in the middle of the night, but a picnic nonetheless.

It didn't bring the best of memories at first. This was the same place where they had had that big possession battle, with the machine versions of Coldsteel, Coldfire and Coldstone. But that, Hudson felt, was a billion years ago. One moment Puck is annoying the heck out of everyone, the next, he's helping him do magic to change the luck.

I guess that's the way the world turns…he thought, as he spotted Elisa and Goliath look at each other as lovesick puppies.

"Come on, big guy. A quick dip in the pool." Elisa teased.

"I'm not going in if you're not going in."

"Oh, please." Elisa replied, "I didn't bring a swimsuit. Just because I can't do something, it doesn't mean you have to deny yourself that opportunity."

They kept arguing back and forth about some other trivialities, and Hudson' attention to Xanatos, sitting in the far end of the corner, next to his wife, saying, "I swear, Fox, this is so humiliating…"

He looked much better now, Hudson realized, but he wasn't perfect. "Come on, David. It barely shows. Besides, I had planned it for weeks. There's no way I was going to cancel it over some stupid accident."

"Shrimp poisoning is no stupid accident. I swear I'll get Demona for this…"

Hudson finally drifted to the trio and Angela, chatting over something, what, Hudson couldn't tell. The last one, stuck with the babysitting job, was Owen, who simply kept an eye out for young Alex, keeping him a safe distance from the pool; knowing very well the boy couldn't swim.

Talkin' about babysitting, I fergot to feed Bronx! He thought as he gazed at the animal, sitting next to the buffet table. He looked so hungry, the poor boy, and the old gargoyle rushed to give him a few entrees.

And only when he approached the table, did he hear what Angela and the trio was talking about. Busy while he fed Bronx, he could hear Angela say, "You have no proof."

"Are you kidding?" replied Brooklyn, "All this bad luck? It's his fault."

"Yeah. He's never affected or anything." Broadway added.

"Bet it's all some kind of lesson for Alex, and he's using us as guinea pigs." Said Lexington.

It didn't take a genius to figure out about whom they talked about. The shame was that Owen could hear it too. Ever so slightly, Owen frowned as he looked at them and mumbled, "I wish they'd got bad luck for real…"

Hudson was about to do something, when a loud splash of water made all heads turn towards the swimming pool. "Goliath, grab my hand!" he heard Elisa yell, as the big lavender gargoyle struggled clumsily to get himself out of the pool.

"What happened?"

"I slipped!" Goliath replied, startled. "I don't know how, but I slipped!" He kept saying over and over to convince himself that he really did slip. "It's the damnedest thing…"

"Are you ok? Anything broken?" Fox queried.

"Nothing…" he replied, and added absentmindedly, "Just a slight pain in the abdomen."

Curious, Elisa poked his right side, right over his ribs, sending Goliath into a world of pain. "Slight pain? I think it's broken."

"No, it isn't!" Goliath argued, trying to catch his breath.

"I think it is." Agreed Fox, as she poked Goliath as Elisa did, making him groan again. "Let's get you out of the water."

Shortly, the clan managed to drag their leader so that he could get some proper medical attention, while Hudson stayed behind, wondering…

* * *

Night fell on Manhattan, as always, and the gargoyles woke up, as always, and Goliath was hurt… as what was beginning to be as always.

"I thought the stone sleep would cure him." Xanatos said, standing next to the big guy, concern clear. A few accidents were normal, but this was ridiculous, thought the entire clan.

"Maybe it needs more time." Brooklyn commented, "No patrols for you tonight."

"Maybe he's just unlucky today." Said Broadway, and the clan shot him a look. "What? What did I say?"

"If I hear the word 'unlucky' one more time I'll scream…" muttered Angela.

Goliath growled to himself. "Come," he told the others, "We'll be late for patrol. Elisa is expecting us." One by one, the gargoyles jumped off the balcony and glided to the horizon. "Coming, Hudson?"

"Nay, I'll stay back tonight. I've got some constructive readin' to do." He replied, and Goliath nodded, then glided off.

* * *

Next to the cozy fire and the cozy tv set, nearby the trusty Bronx and the remote control, Hudson leaned in his chair and took on the most complicated book he'd ever seen. By the dragon! It does read like stereo manual instructions.

No wonder Puck ran away from it. Reading chapter one was giving him a headache, and his somewhat weak reading skills weren't helpful. He chose skipping the first 12 chapters and landed in the one he was interested in.

"Chapter 13: How to bend the Rules of Probability"

"Infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Or that's how the saying goes. What it means is that anything goes, anything as in Anything Goes. At first glance, probability is terribly boring. Statistics, statistics, statistics… roll a quarter, there's 50/50 chance that it'll be head or tail. We assume so because time after time we've seen and counted and it's true. It is 50/50. There's no science to it.

But while dealing with Things Of More Importance, Assume Nothing.

For what do you care for statistics when in your mind there is no such thing. Reality is in the mind and there is no such thing as insanity. Even the insane make perfect sense when you learn their rules of the game. However, your reality might be different from other's realities, and because majority rules, your reality is tossed aside.

No longer.

While dealing with Things Of More Importance, Anything Goes.

Your reality might be recovered from the pile and no matter how insane it might be, it can be imposed over Everyone Else's Reality. Black cats and broken mirrors are but an imperfect interpretation of Reality, one that must be done away with quickly. Luck and Odds will follow after, for what is Luck but an interpretation of Reality?

Wish it strong enough and be rid of other interpretations, so Yours Alone remains."

I don't like this, was the first thing Hudson thought. Wish it strong enough? He remembered what Puck said. Self-hypnosis? Convincing yourself of something? What does it all mean?

Hudson sighed and leaned back in the chair, something eerie creeping inside his mind.

* * *

It was rather peaceful tonight at the castle. Lexington, Broadway, Brooklyn and Angela were playing a friendly hand of poker in one of the many halls of the castle.

It was not as friendly as they'd like it to be, for Luck seemed to have a preference for Angela. "Four aces! Read them and weep!"

"Dammit!" cried Brooklyn.

"Heh, heh… hand over that pretty watch, Brooklyn. Put it here right next to Broadway's wallet and Lex's camera."

"Man," said Broadway, "She's sucking us dry!"

"I'd think she has something up her sleeve if she actually had sleeves!" commented Lexington.

"Oh, come on gentleman, I'll be merciful. Just another game. Double or nothing! I'll even show you my cards!"

"Forget it." Said Lexington, "I fold."

"Me too." Added Brooklyn.

"Not me!" Broadway exclaimed, "I happen to like my wallet."

"Ex-wallet." Interjected Angela, "You're gonna have to beat me first."

"Talking about bad luck…" Said Brooklyn with an unusual sadistic tone. "Where's Owen anyway? Maybe we can get him to mess up Angela's luck." The guys laughed while glancing at the doors of a certain nursery.

"Not so loud." Reprimanded Angela, "He'll hear you."

"He knows it's true." Said Brooklyn, "I said it once and I'll say it again, we're just guinea pigs in his magic lesson."

"Maybe." Said Lex, "Drive-the-gargoyles-insane week."

"Maybe not," said Broadway, "Why not give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"Please!" interjected Brooklyn, "It so obvious, it hurts! Goliath said it best, misery loves company, and he's been so moody since that witch lady gave him his magic back, he wants to see us screwed up too."

"Well," said an all-too-familiar voice to them, "I'm glad you think so highly of me." The four gargoyles froze in place. Boy, oh, boy, embarrassment city. But while Angela, Lex and Broadway were wordless; Brooklyn said, "Well, it sure seems that way, Puck."

"I beg to disagree." Said the white-hair fey, leaning back against the doors of the nursery. "Seems to me you're doing a fine job screwing up all by yourself."

"Someone seems to be the cataclysm." Responded Brooklyn.

"But who's the disaster in the making?" replied Puck. "The clan's the one making the blunders. Why do you blame me? It's probably you guys the one causing all of this. Or better yet. Maybe you are not unlucky after all, maybe I'm the unlucky one and my curse is putting up with your whining."

"I'd hit you, but it's a waste of energy."

"I'd kill you, but it would look bad."

"Stop it!" commanded Angela. "Please don't fight."

"We were just having a discussion." Said Puck.

"You just threaten to kill him!" barked Lex.

"No, I'll simply let luck take care of that. You deserve whatever it is that's coming to you."

"I don't suppose you know just what is our punishment, right?" said Broadway. "Because you have nothing to do with this, right?"

"No, my dear fat gargoyle, I've nothing to do with this. I guess dancing in your grave will have to do."

"Yeah, I bet that's what you wish upon a star." Brooklyn interjected.

That comment seemed to struck home. "Yes, that's exactly what I wish for! I wish for you to die, suffer or all of the above! I wish that the people responsible get a really, really damnable fate! I wish!"

He charged back to the nursery and slammed it's doors shut, with such force it felt like a small earthquake, powerful enough to make one of Xanatos' Ming vase tumble and fall. "Jerk." Said Brooklyn, then added out-loud, "That's coming out of your paycheck!"

* * *

Somewhere in the depths of Wyvern's library, the 7-ft gargoyle known as Goliath sat near a window curled up with a good book, by a fellow named Walt Whitman. It had been awhile since he read something new. He had been so busy lately. It was dark, very dark, because he preferred to read in darkness, nevertheless, the moon provided the necessary lighting.

He only looked up only when he heard footsteps coming. "Hudson? What can I do for you, old friend?"

"Something has been bothering me, Goliath," replied Hudson, "Or rather, someone."

"I see…" replied Goliath, his mood changing considerably, "What did he do now? Burn the kitchen?"

"If it's the Puck ye speak about, rest assured he did nothing." Said the old gargoyle, " An' to be perfectly frank, the one who's been bothering me is you, Goliath."

Goliath looked up to his old mentor, confused, if not a little wounded by his statement. Hudson was his moral guide, the one he trusted implicitly; if he said something was wrong, Goliath was bound to listen. "What do you mean, old friend? What's wrong?"

Hudson sighed and pulled up a chair next to Goliath. "Curiously, it's about the Puck business. What does the clan think of this sudden 'bad luck' and the Puck?"

"That he is the cause of it!" replied Goliath, angered.

Hudson suddenly looked worried. "Have you let the clan gossip behind Owen's back?"

"That is no gossip, it's the truth." Said Goliath, "Why is that so important?"

"Goliath," said the old gargoyle, "How can you be so insensitive? Cannae you see it hurts him?"

"I wasn't aware there was something to hurt. I'm sure he doesn't mind."

"Yes, he does!" replied Hudson, "He may not show it, but it does bother him."

"Old friend, we all know he's responsible. These last few months he's been taking out his frustration on us. He probably put a curse on us all to amuse himself. A bad luck curse."

The old gargoyle sighed. "Here we go again with the luck business… You know, the fey and ye are more alike that ye think." Goliath gave him a wounded look, "Well, it's true. Yer both too stubborn for yer own good; that's for sure. The both of you seem to have a pessimist view of life. Luck is a perception in the mind. Like the half-empty, half-full glass of water. It's all in yuir head."

"Suppose something is powerful enough to break the barriers between thought and reality? Change reality so, that bad things happen all the time?"

"No one has that power. The dark thoughts stay in your own head." Replied Hudson. He thought back to Puck's desperate wish to convince himself he was lucky and chuckled slightly. "I guess you just have to convince yourself to cheer up."

"What if you couldn't?" asked Goliath. "What if you simply couldn't? Suppose you are so miserable that you believe yourself unlucky. Won't that belief reflect on reality?"

"The sick when depressed usually get sicker, so I suppose in that reality, at least their reality, the effects are showing after all. I doubt it goes farther than that." He added, "I know it doesn't go further." He thought back to a passage of the book. Wish it strong enough and be rid of others interpretation, so Yours Alone remains. "No, you have to wish it… really desire it, really desire to be 'lucky'… and care not for what others think. Then it'll become reality."

"But isn't that a contradiction? If your ill mood doesn't reflect on reality beyond your body, then why should a positive mood be able to do it?"

"Touché. It's the same thing for both sides. I forgot that."

"But again, isn't there anything that could breach the barriers between the mind and real life?"

Hudson thought about it for a long time, "No, I don't think so… " then he added, "If something did, we'd be in a pickle… Even if it had good intentions… It would still be one hell of a pickle…Think about it. It would be like imposing your point of view on the world… It would be... disastrous…"

II - TRACK CHANGE

It was dark at night, just how late, he had no idea. Everyone had gone to sleep or gone off patrolling. He guessed he should be going to bed soon, he always got up early.

Dammit, it hurt.

He didn't know exactly just what was causing him pain, it was a knot in the chest that bothered him, and couldn't tell wherever it was real or imagined. What did it matter if he was dreaming it? Dreams are real enough while one sleeps, so this pain was real too.

It was pain, nonetheless, and he wished to end it no matter what. Real or imagined, it was still killing him. That was all too easily accomplished.

He had many, many reasons to go, but only a very weak one to stay. The reason, it turned out to be, was that he was so confused with random thoughts, he didn't knew what was really bothering him. Maybe he was lonely or sad or unlucky. Maybe it was the taunts of the gargoyles. Maybe it was those magical blunders that plagued him. Or maybe it was he's own feeling of inadequacy because nothing he did would come out right.

Reality, his reality, probably all realities, were just dark pits of hopelessness. And he felt so alone, he wished for company. Goliath had said it best, 'misery loves company', and he was right, he felt more alone than ever.

More importantly, he felt hopeless, because in this reality, the stars or fates or random phenomena had decided that he would be the unlucky one.

It occurred to him, in some dark corner of the mind, that maybe if he had company on that reality of his, he wouldn't be lonely anymore. The lyrics Brooklyn mentioned began to dance on his head.

When you wish upon a star…

TRACK B

"Oww!" cried out Goliath, and the rest of the gargoyles stared at him.

"What is it, father?" inquired Angela.

Goliath raised his talon to reveal a piece of stone stuck in his foot. "This hurts!" Damn, he thought, next thing I know, I'll have to start wearing shoes…

"Goliath," said Owen with a tone that revealed annoyance, "I can't take it out if you keep moving. I'd appreciate it if you kept still."

"I am standing still!" exclaimed the gargoyle.

Owen realized this was going nowhere fast, so he opted for a more original solution. "Goliath, say hi to Elisa."

"Where, where?" The butler took the opportunity to yank off the piece of stone off Goliath's talon, making him yell in that overall dramatic tone, "Curse you, Puck!"

"I graciously accept your thanks, Goliath." He replied, with a perfect straight face.

As the blond man began to walk away, the gargoyles began muttering too. "I bet he's having a riot with this." Brooklyn was the first one to speak.

"Yeah. Leave it to Puck to torture us with bad luck…" said Lexington.

"And it's not even our fault he's depressed. It's those three sorcerers who gave him back his magic. He's been moody ever since." Commented Broadway.

"It's kind of weird." Said Angela. "I didn't see him do any spells these last few days…"

"Maybe he doesn't need a spell. Or maybe he did it while we were out." Said Lexington. The trio turned to Goliath, who was still nursing his talon. "What can we do to end this, Goliath?"

The lavender gargoyle growled softly. "I do not know. We have no prove he is indeed causing this. Nevertheless, I should talk to Xanatos. He's his assistant, he should keep him under check." That seemed to please the gargoyles, which then excused themselves and went inside the castle for breakfast.

Only Goliath was left on the balcony. He sighed as he saw the blue moon stare back at him. What am I going to tell Xanatos without proof…? He shook his head. Oh, this bad luck should be enough. And his shrimp poisoning is another proof…A more serious thought took over. Actually, the shrimp is no proof at all… Why would Owen want to, anyway? He'd never do such a thing…

* * *

It was a dark night at the castle. Hudson, having woken up from his stone sleep, spent the last half-hour in the tv room reading that strange book of Puck's property, this time taking it from the top. Much to his amazement, Hudson felt he was beginning to understand some of it.

The book itself, every line, every word, was some kind of bizarre riddle, which made sense only in the sub-conscious mind. True, the articles were simply frustrating: Poems and weird prose most of them. It made absolutely no sense and seemed insulting for a frustrated sorcerer that doesn't want to be amused. It was just one big riddle, a riddle so long it took a whole book to write it down.

The book was truly magical. However, it was written in plain English, which took out any magical air that it might once had. But magical indeed.

A knock in the door interrupted him. The one knocking half-opened the door while asking, "Can I come in?"

"By all means, Owen."

The butler stood uneasy in the entrance. Hudson found it amazing that Puck would be so versatile while Owen could be so stiff. "I've come for the book. But I can wait if you are still reading it."

"Oh, no. Take it if you want to." He handled it to Owen and commented, "You know, I find that I'm beginning to understand that book of yours. Some of it, at least."

That surprised Owen, though he didn't show it. "Understand it how? I myself can't stand it."

"I don't know. I'm just beginning to see the picture, the big picture. Don't ask for a summary, though. It's too difficult to put into words."

Owen nodded. Staring at the book in his hands, he said absentmindedly, "Can you make them stop talking about me?"

Hudson was momentarily startled. "Who?"

"The clan."

Ah, thought Hudson, the heart of the matter. "Yes, I know they talk about you a lot. They think you don't mind."

"I do mind!" he replied, with more emotion that Hudson expected. "I'm not guilty of their blunders." He paused. "They blame me for this, don't they?" He sighed as if he were very old and very tired. "I guess there's no point in reasoning with the clan. But it bothers me that everyone thinks the worst of me. I bet they wish I were gone."

Yes, was what occurred to Hudson but a guilty feeling made him shut up. That's not very decent from the clan, not at all.

"Yes, they do…" replied Owen when he saw the gargoyle twitch, with a disappointment that comes from knowing that everybody hates you. He frowned and said with bitterness, "Not very decent of them, isn't?" then he added, "Then I guess they do deserve whatever's coming after all."

For the first time in a lot of time, a clear thought passed through Hudson's head. There's a tension in the air like a cataclysm in repose.

"You know…" said the old gargoyle tentatively, "Could that be related to that spell we tried. I'm not saying I believe in luck, but still…"

"No. It isn't." Owen replied dryly. "The spell doesn't work. If I had real luck, no one would be blaming me."

"That's a very good point." Hudson admitted, then the full implications of that statement hit him, In fact, that's a very good point! "I'll try to talk to the clan, work things out." Something stopped Hudson. "But… The spell was designed to convince yourself of being lucky… why didn't it work?"

"You said it yourself. It was to convince me, not to cause real luck. I didn't believe in myself, I guess."

That's right. You told Goliath too. Luck is in the mind. It doesn't affect real life. If he doesn't believe in his mind, then that's that. "I'll talk to the clan nonetheless. Clear this mess before it goes any further."

Owen nodded again and handed the book back to Hudson. "Keep it. You have more of a chance to understand it than I do. Perhaps you can explain it to me later."

"I thought ye understood it…"

"I understand the mechanism, not the poetry." Then he added, "You have more free time than me, and so a better chance of understanding."

Hudson took a deep breath and replied, "I'll see what I can do…"

* * *

"What I am is worried. Needless to say that the clan has been pointing fingers and---"

"Acting like witch hunters from Salem, yes, I've noticed." Xanatos finished, "We all need to blame someone for the bad things that happen, though it's just a matter of chance."

From Xanatos' office, while the other gargoyles were thankfully gone, the old gargoyle and the millionaire had an honest talk.

"We've all noticed his ill mood, and that's why the clan maybe blaming 'im." Hudson continued. "It annoys Puck. Surely, you've noticed too."

"I've noticed, yes, but he doesn't like to talk about those things. Not to me, at least. I'm surprised he went to you." Xanatos replied; then added a bit wounded, "Why didn't he come to me? He knows I would've helped him. I've nothing against you, but he still has me…"

"I was just thinking about it." Hudson said. "Isn't it peculiar he went to me and not you? Maybe he's upset with you."

"Upset?" Xanatos questioned the old gargoyle in his office. "If I did something to upset Owen? I don't think so." Xanatos was truly taken aback by the question, "Then again, you can never tell with him."

"Aye, indeed." Said Hudson with resignation, "Perhaps I worry over nothing. Sorry to have bothered you."

"Actually…"

"What?"

"You know the party? The shrimp party?" Xanatos replied, remembering. "Well, there was this woman… She's manager of a small company I plan to make my subsidiary. Lovely woman, very clever. She was there, dateless, very bored and I might have, sorta… encouraged Owen to ask her to dance---"

"And he didn't wanted to dance?"

"But he did. And I appreciate it. I just don't know if that got him too upset."

Hudson stared at him, then said with carefully planned words, "And you say that was the same party where you got poisoned by shrimp?"

"Yes…" said Xanatos, tentatively, "Is there anything I should know? Don't tell me Owen poisoned my shrimp on purpose…"

"Good gracious, no. He'll never do that to you. Respects you too much." Hudson reassured, "The clan is giving him a hard time. Murmuring…talking… I do not think it wise." He hesitated. "Have ye ever stood on the edge of the beach and sensed something is coming? Ye don't know what that is, but when the problem becomes full blown, you say to yuirself---"

"How could I not see it coming?" Xanatos answered for him. "Like déjà vu. It's all in your head. The imagination is a powerful tool. It can create or it can---"

"… destroy with vicious lies?" finished the old gargoyle.

Xanatos nodded and said, "Convince them otherwise. They won't listen to me. You're their elder; they'll listen to you."

"Ah, it may not be so easy. You said it yourself. We all need to blame someone."

* * *

"hello?" wrote Lexington in the computer. "is anyone out there?"

He strolled down the page of the WBS chat room he spent most of his time and found no answer. With a quick click, he checked the number of users logged in, and a big fat zero stared back at him. "Great, I've been talking to thin air…" he muttered.

Lex kicked himself for not going on patrol with the others. 'No,' he said, 'I wanna chat for awhile.' He would be doing more good out there, patrolling and catching bad guys than surfing the internet. He momentarily toyed with the idea of going out there to try and catch up, but decided against it. Someone needed to guard the castle, and Hudson could use the company. He guessed he was watching tv as usual and headed to the big tv room.

However, something caught his attention. Bright lights coming from Alex's room. Oh damn, don't tell me he's teaching him magic again…

From the doorway of the nursery, Lex saw how a helpless teddy bear kept changing from an elephant, to a panda, to a boat, to a teddy bear again. Alex giggled happily at his accomplishment, while Puck congratulated his protégé.

"There's my boy!" Alex hugged his teacher while Lex wished he were somewhere else.

Lex stood his ground because he felt it was his moral obligation to tell Puck that doing magic wasn't the brightest of ideas.

Puck's face darkened, and his usually cheerful nature---which had been hidden these last few months---vanished once more. "What'd you care, gargoyle? Can't I have a normal day with my nephew every once in a while?"

"I'm just saying that maybe now is not good time for a lesson." Lex replied calmly.

"Why?" Puck asked, with an edge on his voice.

Lexington stared back at him indignant and said, "Because you'll teach stuff to Alex to use against us---" Lex stopped himself, and realized he said something he shouldn't.

"Is that what you think this is?" Puck asked, irritated. "So you really think the worse of me, don't you? Don't you?" Lex couldn't think of anything to say. At his silence, Puck snapped, "Out!"

"What!?"

"Out!" he snapped again, "Get out! If you're not with me, you're against me. Go take apart the microwave or something!" Lex, partially humiliated, didn't move, so Puck yelled, at full force, "Get out of my face before I really do something to ya!"

Leave did Lex do, partially bewildered, partially plotting revenge. Thinking of something witty to say, he turned back, only to be greeted by the slap on the door, right on his face. Would he have a bigger nose, it would've been broken. "Fine! Be that way! Wait till I tell Goliath!"

"Man," muttered Lex, rubbing his nose, "I hope he didn't break it…" Completely forgetting about his plan to get Hudson, he went back to the computer room, where he had a mirror lying around somewhere.

He found it and stared. Nothing broken. Good. He put the mirror back to where he found it, and it occurred to him to turn off the computer.

That was pretty much the last thing he would remember later.

* * *

Young Alex saw how uncle Puck made uncle Lex leave, and couldn't help but wonder what was going on. His uncle slapped the door right on Lex's face, and uncle Lex yelled something angry. Angry, he figured, because the door must have hurt. He remembered that time the door pinched his fingers, so he could relate to uncle Lex.

Uncle Puck, however, stood staring at the door for awhile, and Alex figured he felt sorry for Lex, or that maybe he pinched his fingers too. He saw some tears on uncle Puck too, so he figured he definitely pinched his fingers.

"Does it hurt, unclie Puck?" he asked.

"Yes…" he replied, as if he were somewhere else. "No, I mean no." He brushed away the tears and said, "It's just allergies."

He just doesn't want to admit he pinched his fingers. Alex figured grown-ups thought that was stupid because they were grown-ups.

"Come over here and give your uncle a hug. At least you still love me…" He took him in his arms and hugged him for a long while.

"It's ok. It'll go away." Reassured Alex, because it wasn't allergies, because he was definitely hurt and crying.

Well, it had to be pinched fingers, because no one cried so much over of allergies.

* * *

Attracted by the sound, or perhaps the smell of smoke, or maybe the fire coming from Lexington computer room, Bronx made his way there, dragging Hudson along.

"Come on, boy. We're missing the Tonight Show!" Hudson stopped himself when he saw a fire coming out Lex's precious computer.

Immediately, he made a dive for the fire extinguisher and put out the fire. Then he reached Lex, who was semi-conscious lying in the floor. "Lad, what happened!?"

"It blew up…" he muttered. Then he moved his gaze from Hudson to someone behind him and said, accusingly, "He blew it up!"

Puck, in the doorway, simply stared.

Why do I get the feeling this will take some explaining to do…?

* * *

A few hours later, the perhaps-responsible party was at Owen's office talking about the incident with Lexington. He wasn't seriously hurt; at least it wasn't something that the stone sleep couldn't cure.

He was now bandaged and taking a nap somewhere in the castle. Where, Owen didn't know, the olive green gargoyle didn't want to have anything to do with him. Gargoyles were pretty volatile creatures who take grudges very easily. Getting their trust back was a problem, but Owen didn't feel like he needed them anyway.

Good. They have it coming anyway, said a sarcastic ghost, whom Owen ordered to be quiet. "Yes, I believe it is strange too. But it is nothing too serious." Owen said, taking again the conversation.

"Not too serious?" repeated Hudson, "Lexington could've died, the castle could've burn down… a billion things could've happen!"

"But they didn't. That's the important part."

"Don't you think that that spell we tried might be causing this?"

Owen looked at him perplexed. "Why would it? It was only for me. Besides, it doesn't work."

"What am saying, lad, is that maybe there's a catch."

"A catch?"

"Yes, a catch. A trick. After all, for all magic, a price must be paid. You remember Xanatos' Cauldron of Life. Live as long as the mountains stone. All that thing really did was turn yer hand to stone." Replied Hudson, "Just because the stone fist is gone is no reason to forget it."

"That is because the mage who wrote the book had a strange sense of humor. The authors of this spell have none."

"Yes, but they do so adore to talk in riddles, don't they? Bend the Rules of Probability? What does it mean?"

"They mean about luck. Luck bending to my favor; that's all. And it doesn't work."

"But do they really talk about luck?" said Hudson, with way too much on the 'really'.

"What else would it be?"

"I don't know. They talk about bending reality. But I don't know." The old gargoyle replied, "It's a riddle, and I'm afraid I don't know the answer." He paused and sighed. "Let's just keep it as is and see what happens. What I'm afraid now is what Goliath will say."

* * *

As he stood at the hall's doors, he asserted the situation. From the tv room he could've swore that it was Demona and Goliath fighting. Much to his surprise, Demona wasn't there.

"Duck, Hudson!" he heard someone yell as a small porcelain figurine headed his way, shattering on the wall, missing Hudson by a few inches.

"Is this the best you can do, trickster? Child-like tantrums?" Goliath barked.

For Puck had thrown the figurine, and by God, did he looked pissed off. "It's not a tantrum! It's not! It's not! It's not!" He grabbed another of Xanatos' expensive, exotic and terribly fragile figurines and would've lunged it at Goliath if Xanatos himself hadn't grabbed his hand.

"Control yourself!" Xanatos commanded.

"I won't stand here and put up with these ridiculous accusations!" Puck replied, yanking back his hand from Xanatos' grip.

As that went down, Hudson asked the trio, "What's going on? Why do they fight?"

"Goliath's finally had it with Puck…" replied Brooklyn.

"…because of what happened to me…" added Lexington.

Meanwhile, Goliath barked to the trickster, "We know it's you! Release us from the magic! Or I'll force you to!"

"I'd like to see you try!" Puck barked back.

Xanatos grabbed Puck by the arm and pulled him back before Goliath jumped him, "Let's just calm down and talk this out… Puck, you obviously can't do this right now. I need Owen; can I talk to Owen?"

"He doesn't want to talk and he told me to tell you to go to hell!"

Hudson went to Goliath to hold him back, like Xanatos was holding back Puck, and replied, "This is not the time, nor the place for this, Goliath. We need to talk, not yell."

"We ARE talking!" said the gargoyle leader, eyes flashing and glowing.

"What say you, Puck?" asked Xanatos.

The fey answered, "It's not my fault you are unlucky."

"You have something to do with this! Don't deny this! You wish us harm!"

"And since when 'wish' and 'luck' are related?"

Hudson, listening closely to all of this, felt a chill go down his spine. Are they really related…? This mind drifted to the book again, to the riddle of the book. Assume Nothing, it said…

"You know what I think?" said Goliath.

"No, and I don't think I care…" muttered Puck.

"I think…"

"Oh, damn, he's gonna tell me anyway…"

"I think that because of all that's happened to you, with the talisman, the sorcerers, all of that, makes you want to take it out on us! You put a curse on us to make as unhappy as you!"

"You deserve whatever you have coming, Goliath." Puck replied tauntingly. "May it be me, may it be anything else."

"Forgetting this 'luck' business," interjected Xanatos, still holding Puck by the arms, "The truth is, you've been down right unsupportable these last few months. Even if this 'bad luck' isn't your fault, sometimes you screw up on purpose. You want to screw up on purpose."

Puck yanked himself away from Xanatos, and stared at him, wounded, irritated and insulted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What I mean," continued Xanatos, "Is that you don't want to do anything. You're always fighting---"

"Get to the point, Xanatos!" he snapped.

"It means that if you don't get your act together, I'm gonna get you some help." the millionaire snapped back.

Puck stared at him bewildered. "What do you mean, 'help'?" he said, momentarily calmed out of the confusion.

" 'Help' as in that Xanatos Enterprises' employees can get a psychiatric evaluation if his superior sees something wrong. And Owen Burnett is not above that rule."

Puck's world seemed to shatter. Xanatos acknowledged the fact that the entire clan was looking, and if there was something his assistant couldn't stand---either one---was to be talked about in public. Especially if that gave a certain lavender gargoyle the chance of telling him he's insane, and probably, maybe, maybe, mean it.

Wounded and feeling humiliated, "So, what's next? The loony bin, David?" he turned to the gargoyles. "What are you looking at?"

Goliath snapped back growling, must have decided it wasn't worth it and turned to Xanatos. "When can you get him an appointment with someone?"

"First thing in the morning."

"Excuse me?" said Puck, "What am I, a ghost? My opinion doesn't matter?"

"You obviously aren't in your sound mind or judgement, and until a psychiatrist contradicts me, I'm calling the shots." Replied Xanatos. "As of right now, 'Mr. Burnett' is on sick leave, ok?"

If looks could kill, Xanatos would've been dust right now. "You can't do this." He said, then charged to his room, pushing aside the clan members in his way.

* * *

"So, that's it?" asked Brooklyn, "Man, I wonder how he plans to explain Owen-type to the psychiatrist…"

"Let's just let it go." Said Hudson. "Have the decency of not mocking him."

"He wished us harm and in some sick way, it was working." Added Broadway. "He's just screaming for help."

"You never proved this bad luck was he's fault. Remember that."

"It's easier for you because you haven't been affected," said Angela to Hudson, "Not us… I wonder why…"

"Maybe I'm luck--" Hudson stopped himself. "Maybe it's not my turn yet. I admit that having a fey wishing for my death is disturbing, but he has no such power."

"I suppose…" replied Angela. "But magic is not to be underestimated."

"Magic has nothing to do with this." Hudson said, not very convincing. Because he knew Puck definitely had something to do with this, but that would be admitting the existence of 'bad luck', something he didn't believe in.

This is nonsense…reasoned the old gargoyle, That's just a book on self-hypnosis… No real harm. For magic to work on luck, luck has to exist in the first place…Suppose you wish an evil omen on someone. You can't wish things and make them true. At least, that's what I think…

"Coming, Hudson?" asked Lex.

"For patrol? Nay, I'll stay here tonight. There's something I've meant to do for awhile, call it unfinished business." The old gargoyle replied.

"You mean Puck's book? I guess we'll have to start calling you 'Hudson, the scribe', eh?" said Brooklyn.

"I guess so." Hudson answered. "You kids run along now. Let this old gargoyle read a little."

The young ones left, and Hudson was alone with his own thoughts. It maybe only a book of suggestions, but what was that other thing? Wish it strong enough?

But even if he 'wished it strong enough', it can only go so far. So maybe Puck 'wishes' harm to the gargoyles, that act itself has no power. Granted, he has magic, but he isn't that strong. Another possibility came into mind. What if something aided him…? Like a charm from three all-powerful beings. Would that be enough…?

But that's impossible. Luck, good or bad, doesn't exist. It's just an assumption made while looking for answers for the things that happen. Blame it on the 'luck'.

At least, that's what Hudson assumed.

And the book said, "Assume Nothing."

III - DERAILMENT

Xanatos quickly went after his assistant after the later one charged out of the main hall. Upon noticing that Xanatos wanted to catch up with him, he ran, nearly flew to his room and locked himself there before the millionaire stopped him.

Xanatos sighed heavily and yelled, "Please, I want to talk to you. Don't get petty."

"Petty!?" replied Puck enraged from the locked bedroom, "You humiliated me! Me! After all I've done for you! I deserve respect! You humiliated me in front of the gargoyles! Now I'm a joke!"

"They'll understand…" replied Xanatos as he took a credit card and tried to jimmy the lock.

It opened, but Puck must have noticed and forcefully closed it, breaking the credit card. "Let me in!" Xanatos pushed while Puck pushed back and closed it electronically. "Don't make this harder on yourself…" said Xanatos, bypassing the security lock and it's password. "I've taken off-line all your security passes. Just in case, of course."

Puck didn't bother to fight him off anymore. He turned away as the millionaire entered and threw himself in the bed, hiding his face with a pillow and yelling, "I don't want to talk to you!"

"I see this is going to be difficult…" Said Xanatos, trying to take it all in good mood, because the other option was worrying himself to death. "You know, I don't want to do this, but you're obviously sick and---"

"Don't you patronize me!" Puck snapped, looking up from the pillow. "I could be the end of you. It could make your castle turn inside out and your reality outside in! So don't you dare treat me like a little boy!"

"You know you can't do that." Xanatos replied, too patronizing for Puck's taste.

"But I can wish on it. And I don't think I like you anymore!" he threw Xanatos the pillow, stood in the bed and yelled, "Go away! I want you to go away! I wish you went away!"

Xanatos took a few steps back, thinking, Don't make him loose it now! "Get down from there!"

"I want you to go away!" he replied, still standing on the bed. "You will go away, because it's my reality, and I can do whatever I want! So there!"

For a moment, for the briefest moment, time lost all meaning, and Puck thought it all was a dream. For the briefest moment, he couldn't tell wherever he was imagining he was having this conversation. But like the maybe-real-maybe-not pain for yesterday, it really didn't made much of a difference. What does it matter if the conversation was real or fake? The end result was the same.

He collapsed on the bed, for the first time feeling real, hot tears burning. He thought it the ultimate humiliation, crying in public, crying in front of Xanatos no less.

Feel that? The tears are real after all, whispered a little voice, the same voice that almost convinced him of killing himself. I guess you were right after all, continued the little voice with resignation, I guess this wacko plan of yours to change luck paid off after all…

What are you talking about? He thought, This still sucks…

Ah, but if you were really unlucky, Xanatos would have seen you cry…

The comment struck home, and Puck looked up after what seemed to be eternity. "David?" he asked, his boss gone. Poof. Vanished. He didn't even hear him leave. See, you are lucky…If you were unlucky, you wouldn't have the power to change reality, would you…?

"I wished him gone and he left." He said, absentmindedly. An old fear returned. Was this a dream? Had he falling asleep? If so, when? If so, how?

What does it matter? The end result is the same, isn't it?

Hudson made an inhuman effort to keep himself awake. He felt as if he were on a boat or a rocking chair, going back and forward, causing drowsiness, falling asleep yet consciously knowing he was falling asleep.

Like a human history class, he knew he had to keep himself awake, yet the drone of the teacher (or in this case the tv, he wasn't human, and he didn't have a history teacher in front of him, rather, a tv with HBO on, playing some black & white thriller from the 30's, which didn't have anything thrilling about it,) was like a lullaby making him fall asleep.

He opened his eyes and found himself reading the book, Puck's book, since what seemed forever. He couldn't actually recall how he ended up reading this book again, and couldn't recall anything before he woke up just now; not even shattering from his stone sleep. Odd, he thought and yawned; blaming the mental lapse on some badly needed coffee.

He staggered to the kitchen, like a desperate hunter out looking for dinner, all the while thinking, Why am I so tired? Broadway was there, making himself breakfast.

"Is there any coffee?"

Broadway jumped, he didn't notice the old gargoyle enter. "Sorry, what was that again? I didn't notice you."

"Coffee, have you any coffee?"

"Sorry," answered Broadway, "We're all out."

Hudson let out a disappointed grunt. "I guess I'll survive." He said, "That's kind of odd, though, we always have coffee…"

Broadway shrugged. "Not today. I'm making pancakes, though. Want some?"

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry."

I'm dying here…the old gargoyle thought. Not only was it sleep, he suddenly realized it was hunger too after all. He wasn't exactly starving to death, it was more desire to eat something, like a chocolate. He opened the fridge, but didn't saw anything that remotely looked like candy. Not my lucky day…A third option crossed his mind. Hot cinnamon tea. It was hot and it was sweet, both things he wanted in one. It helped that he didn't see anything else in the fridge.

With that in mind, he commented to Broadway, "We outta tell Xanatos about the grocery shortage. It would seem we're out off candy. Not that it's an emergency or something, but still… I like candy…"

"We are?" asked Broadway, taking a quick look inside the fridge. "Don't tell me Lex and Brook finished the chocolate cake! Man! Next time I'll hide it! Those greedy pigs…!"

"Speaking of which, where are they?"

Broadway looked perplexed for a moment. "I don't know."

"Why do you look so surprised?"

The round gargoyle seemed to think about that. "I don't know." It wasn't hard for Hudson to notice something was wrong with Broadway. He suddenly looked worried, distressed. But that look vanished as fast as it came. Then he chuckled to himself, and said, "I guess they're out on patrol."

"Is something wrong?" asked Hudson, slightly bewildered by Broadway's petulant answer.

"No, why would it?" the latter gargoyle replied, relaxed.

"Right…" muttered Hudson, more to himself than Broadway. "I'll …uh… go look for them…"

Somewhat bewildered with that last conversation, Hudson scratched his head as he wondered wherever his friend was having an off day or maybe he badly needed breakfast. Anyway, he started to look for Goliath and the rest of the clan, out of morbid curiosity to know where they were.

As he headed for the library, the likeliest place where Goliath may be, he realized how quiet it all was. Usually, it wasn't this quiet. You could hear at least the air conditioner, but now… it was so quiet… so, so quiet… Hudson couldn't help but worry.

Worry and feeling he was forgetting something. He snapped his fingers in realization, Ah, Owen/Puck, how could I forget…! He couldn't help but feel sorry for the lad. True, he wasn't his 'friend' in the strictest sense of the world, but he needed someone. Besides, he was too involved because of the spell to turn back now. It wasn't until that moment he realized he did a mistake.

Perhaps if I had come through with the clan and told them of the magic, this wouldn't happened… he thought with regret.

He opened the library's door, and with the vacuum of silence that seemed to permeate the castle, it sounded like thunder on a stormy night. "Goliath?" he asked, echoing, his own voice sending chills down his spine.

"Over here, old friend." Replied Goliath, his voice not echoing so much, which was weird, since Hudson expected it to sound like thunder. He approached his leader, who was sitting on a high chair near the window, as usual, and the latter asked, "What can I do for you, Hudson?"

"I was just wondering about the Puck? What has Xanatos done? I haven't seen any of them around. Has he talked to you?"

"No, not yet." Replied Goliath, "I haven't seen them today. Why is that so important?"

It wasn't the answer Hudson expected. After all, wasn't Goliath the one pushing Xanatos to do something? Nevertheless, he replied, "Nothing, I was just wondering."

"I'll inform the clan when I get briefed. The night is still young, Xanatos and Owen may still be out."

That opened another Pandora box for Hudson, since he didn't exactly remember waking up from the stone sleep. For Hudson, waking up seemed a thousand years ago, and Goliath says the night is young?

Hudson excused himself, shot him a wary look, then walked away. Now Goliath was worried over Hudson, as the old man was worried over him. Then something clicked in his mind.

Something was happening, something that…

"No," he breathed, as the feeling went away.

The silence's what worried him most. Every step he took echoed terribly, and Hudson never thought he'd give himself the creeps. Maybe something's broken in the castle, he thought, in a futile attempt to calm himself.

Maybe out of curiosity, or maybe because he felt alone, the old man headed to Lex's computer room. Finally, people.

Both Brooklyn and Angela were playing poker, while Bronx (whom Hudson had just remembered he existed) was sleeping in the floor.

"Hi, Hudson." Said Brooklyn.

"Hi," repeated Angela, "Wanna play poker?"

"I'll have to decline." Hudson answered. "I'm looking for Xanatos and Owen. Had you seen them?"

The two young gargoyles shook their heads and Angela said, "Are you sure you don't wanna play? We have a chair for you."

"Broadway's eating and Lex is using the computer, as always." He pointed to the back of the room, where Lex was busy typing who-knows-what.

"Well, he's obviously busy, so---" Hudson suddenly stopped himself and did a double take. Lex is using the computer!? But didn't that same computer blow up!?

Every sense went on alarm and a thousand questions flooded his mind. Where's Owen? How did I end up reading his book?! Why is it so quiet!? And more importantly, When did I wake up?!

He turned back to the young gargoyles and asked sharply, "What time is it!?"

Everyone looked at him, including Lex. He knew it was a stupid question, but it was the one that first crossed his mind. But an easy question like that, and the young gargoyles were looking at each other as he just asked them to explain something like quantum physics.

"It's early, I guess." Angela answered.

"You don't remember, do you!?" asked Hudson. "Either one of you remembers what you were doing before I came in!?"

They looked at each other again. "We were here…" said Angela. She had the same desperate look Broadway had. She momentarily looked as if she overused her brain and blown a fuse, but it went away and she replied cheerfully. "We were here all the time, you silly!" Brooklyn and Lexington nodded, pleasantly.

Hudson, however, was horrified beyond words. "Don't move!" he burst. "Don't go anywhere! There's something wrong here! Just stay here!"

The other gargoyles looked at each other once more, and Angela replied, "Where else would we go?"

Hudson charged out of there like a juggernaut, his mind racing. Talking to Goliath or Broadway would be useless, but he went to the library and dragged Goliath down, and did the same with Broadway, to bring them back to Lex's computer room.

"Why?!" asked Broadway.

"Because something's happening." Replied Hudson, leading the way. He hadn't felt so alive or desperate since he used to lead the clan, but there was no time to revel in that feeling. "Do you remember waking up?" he asked Broadway and turned to Goliath, "And you?"

Both of them looked at each other. "I don't." said Goliath. "Funny, I haven't seen you since I did, Hudson."

The old gargoyle shot him a look. "You just talked to me 15 minutes ago."

"I did?" Goliath replied, in a childlike wonderment.

Hudson wasn't about to waste his time explaining what happened. Instead, he grabbed his arm and replied, "I'll explain it later…" then he added in a darker tone, "If there is a later…"

The three gargoyles, Hudson leading, Broadway and Goliath looking around perplexed, made their way to the main hall with the windowed wall. He was to be there! Where else would he be!?

Though three huge, heavy gargoyles were walking in the current silence so thick that could've been sliced, only the footsteps of one could be heard.

Hudson thought that Owen too was under this bizarre spell, since he was looking aimlessly out the see-through window wall. "Goliath," said Hudson, in the same tone of his long-gone leadership days, "Go get the others. We can't handle this alone." Goliath didn't move, mainly because he wasn't there any more. He and Broadway were not there.

Did they leave? Did they evaporate?

But now wasn't the time to dwell in that question.

Hudson suddenly found himself alone, engulfed by terrible silence, with Owen absentminded out the window. Not so absentminded after all, Hudson comprehended, for Owen turned back to him and asked, "My, what are you doing here?" sweetly as if talking to a child, saying something like, 'You caught the ball! There's a good boy! Oh, yes you are!'

The old man didn't quite know how to answer that, but Owen didn't seem to expect an answer. He simply chuckled slightly and looked back at the window. "Beautiful night, isn't it?" he sounded very rhetorical, so the gargoyle didn't answer. "I guess you'd like it, right?"

That sounded as if it meant to be answered. Because he didn't know what to say, he replied, "Yes, beautiful indeed."

He expected an answer, but he got none. Owen had apparently lost interest on him and ignored his comment. For a moment, they were on that uncomfortable silence Hudson began to despise. "You know," said Hudson, out to try for a conversation, "There's something wrong here. I don't know if---well, you had to notice, you had to notice there's something wrong with tonight and---"

Owen then began to walk toward him.

Then walked pass him.

Hudson, more that confused, was annoyed that he was getting so shamelessly ignored. "Where are you going?" he asked, but had no answer. "Are you listening to me? Owen? Puck?"

He's under the spell. Like the others. Like…a ghost. Hudson then began to follow him. At least the others talked. He's ignoring me completely. No. He didn't act as if he were ignoring him; he was acting as if Hudson were irrelevant, like a piece of furniture.

He followed him to Alex's room. Oddly enough, he began to notice that, unlike Goliath and the others, his footsteps had echo. Sure, he didn't talked, but he had echo, something that meant something, and he'd be damned if he knew what it was.

Alex was nowhere in the vicinity, but as they arrived to the doorstep, Owen couldn't help but smile. Hudson kept following him, and for a moment he wondered wherever he was the ghost and Owen the real person, or the other way around. As for Owen, he sat on the bed and grabbed Alex's teddy bear with gargoyle wings, and held it for a long time.

"Owen, please…" said Hudson, in an attempt to reach him, "Are you there? Please, talk to me."

The blond man looked at him, finally noticing him for the first time. "You're still here?" It wasn't much as a question but more like a statement.

"Yes. Can you see me?"

"Of course I can see you," he replied matter-of-factly, "Why else would I talk to you?"

He blamed that answer on some fey humor thing and answered, "Then why did you ignore me? There's something wrong here, a spell of some kind, and ye and me seem to be the ones spared." Hudson wasn't exactly sure about Owen at least, so he was really speaking for himself.

He chuckled. Lightheartedly. As if in praise. "Let me get this straight. You are talking to me. We're having a conversation. Amazing. I'm actually talking to one of you. Fascinating."

"Glad of your approval…" Hudson muttered, and couldn't help but be a little sharp.

"Ah! You're also capable of sarcasm! Is this a game?" he asked, with rapt attention.

Oh, he was definitely gone. Not gone-gone, but this spell made him think… 'something'. And what's the big deal with talking? Why is he so surprised about it? Hudson didn't have any other option but follow the 'game'. He had Owen's attention, and that was a good thing, so all he had to do was keep it.

"Yes, Owen, it's a game. I need you to help me figure things out."

"Figure what out?"

"Why everyone is acting like zombies?"

"Don't they always?" he replied matter-of-factly. "Have you ever tried to talk to them? It's impossible to reason with those people."

For a moment, Owen seemed a bit more real with that answer. "I know the clan has a tendency to be bias to you, but this is not about you."

"Yes, it is!" his unreal warmth vanished once and for all, and the attitude he had had for the last few months came back. Not necessarily a good think though.

Nevertheless, this wasn't the time to wallow up in self-pity. "You're missing the point! A spell is rendering everyone useless! Unreal! You too! Don't you see everyone's unreal tonight? Like walking on dreams, on clouds…" on nightmares…

"They act like usual." Owen replied. "I may not like it, but they act like usual. They ignore me, as usual. There's nothing unreal about that."

"But this is not about you!" the old gargoyle exclaimed. "Or is it?" he added with dread. "This is unreal!"

"This is my reality. There's nothing unreal about that, I'm unlucky and everyone hates me and I can't talk to anyone. What does it matter if this doesn't agree with your point of view? Everyone has the right to have their point of view."

Hudson was about to argue when understanding blinded all his senses at the same time, like an explosion of light. "By the Dragon, this is real!" Hudson gasped.

Goliath had mentioned it day ago; he had asked, Suppose you are so miserable that you believe yourself unlucky. Won't that belief reflect on reality? Hudson had scoffed it off like impossible, but suppose you add a strange book, the desire to change luck, and a fey? But not just any fey. One tainted by dark magic and dark thought, one with no clear idea of what to do.

One who was set on changing luck by changing reality… and somehow lost himself in the way… for luck is an interpretation of reality, and if he were sad, his point of view would be sad… and just about everything else would be sad…

He looked away…out… searching for something, but was greeted with horrible silence. Then he understood. Puck was stuck in a sorry reality and he was dragging everyone with him. This was the closest anyone got to see the thoughts of another person; the silence, the gargoyles, stuck in idle hobbies, because he always saw them like that, like… irrelevant, stuck in their own world.

"That's why you're so surprised of seeing me talk!" Hudson said with fascinated horror, "You think I'm irrelevant!"

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you're giving me a merry time." Owen replied, "I'm amazed. You look very real."

"That's because I am real!" replied Hudson, "Owen, I am here! I don't know why, I don't know how! Maybe because I was closer to ye than anyone! Maybe because that book gave me some kind of immunity, I don't know! But I am here! This silence! How can you stand this? This is the way you see things, right? Can't you see I'm here? Or am I a ghost to you?"

The other smiled as if he were on a cloud. "Very good! You think you are you! This is very interesting! None of the others ever talked to me. They're always stuck in their own problems. But you… you act as if you care… I think I'll like this game very much."

"This is not a game! I'm real. But everything else is not. You somehow imposed yur view of things like on the others. Do ye understand?" Owen looked at him blankly, " 'Wish it strong enough and be rid of other interpretations, so Yours Alone remains.' Do you remember that? It was in the book! It was about changing reality."

"Uh…sorry. You lost me there." Owen replied. "To be perfectly frank, nothing has ever changed."

"But this silence!" exclaimed Hudson. "I think I understand, though… It's quiet because it's hopeless… at least that's how you see it… If we are to leave, you have to realize that it's not. It is not hopeless."

"That's easy for you to say." He replied, but not as Owen or as Puck. More like someone without disguises. He continued, more emphatically. "I'm so tired of trying to deal with a bunch of gargoyles who think I'm insane. I'm tired of playing the good lackey to Xanatos. Not exactly tired…" he hesitated, "It's just… I don't feel anything anymore…" he tried to take it in good humor. "Isn't that the stupidest thing you ever heard?" his façade of cheerfulness evaporating, "I just don't feel anything anymore…"

"Owen… Puck… you… it's not hopeless. I know this look bleak… but if you get help… I'm sure we can work this out… We may not show it, but we care."

For the first time in the whole evening, Owen looked at him, really looked at him, for what seemed the first time ever. "You do?" he whispered almost inaudible.

There you are…Hudson thought, No ghost, no disguises. Just you… Hudson suddenly remembered something else about the spell. Hadn't there being a safety command?

For the first time, Owen understood, damn him, he understood. He was there, he was talking to him, he cared.

No, he doesn't, muttered a little voice. He's just an illusion. A hypocrite, just like everyone else. Just like everyone in the castle, he was a goddamned illusion! Don't be an idiot! You've been an idiot since the very beginning! Don't trust this hypocrites, they're all hypocrites! All of them!

Hudson saw the light of Owen's eyes vanish as quickly as it came, and he was worried. "You liar." Owen coldly replied, "I don't want to talk to you. I don't like this game anymore."

"I'm no game!" Hudson snapped back.

"Go away. You're just a little dream, and now it's time to wake up."

The old gargoyles grunted in frustration, "But I'm real!" he began to argue.

"How do I know that?"

Hudson seemed to carefully weight his words. "You don't. But even if I was a dream, I still speak the truth. Ever heard the story of the man and the butterfly? A man dreamed he was a butterfly, and when he woke up, he couldn't tell which one was real. But what did it matter, if he was still alive and he still felt the same things in either body? The truth is the truth, it doesn't matter where it comes from."

"That's right!" Owen replied, amazed. "That's absolutely true!"

"Then please…" said Hudson, with a soft tone. "Help me save you."

Hudson had him, but let him slip away with those words. "You old fool. I don't want to be saved." The old gargoyle couldn't help but get shocked. "Time for your exit. You were great. I admire that. You almost had me there. You were almost real. However, all good things come to an end. It's been a wonderful game… but game's over."

Hudson suddenly found himself seized from each arm by the all-too-familiar Goliath and Broadway. "What are you doing?"

"You know, I have to thank you. You just gave me a wonderful idea." Said Owen as he walked back to the main hall; the two gargoyles carrying Hudson. "You said reality is under my command. If that's so… then I don't want to be 'saved'. This is way too good to let go."

"What!?" snapped Hudson, "This is a miserable reality! A miserable truth! Why do you want it?"

"I failed with changing luck, might as well take this as plan b!" Owen replied, "Miserable here, miserable there, might as well be in control of it!"

"That's insane!"

"Well, that's what my shrink would say." The blond fey replied, playfully bitter. "Goliath, Broadway… time to say adieu to the good Mr. Hudson. Worry not, old man. I'll make sure something nice is written on your grave."

Goliath and Broadway aimed at him with rifles, (just where did they come from, it wouldn't make much difference if they shot). "You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

"You can't!"

"Oh, really?"

"Can't you see!? You're trapping them in your reality! It's unfair, unjust, so help me, sadistic!"

"Well," Owen replied, with something bright and sardonic in his eyes. "I said it once, I'll say it again… they all have it coming! Better you than me! Better if Goliath drags himself in the gutter for the grief of killing you! For once in my life, I wanna get away with murder! Don't try to escape, believe me, this'll be worth in the long run. I'll feel better… or if I don't, you won't be around to put up with me."

Hudson found himself against the crystal windowed wall, facing his two would-be killers. It would be of no use talking to them.

(He suddenly remembered something…)

The two guns were pointing at his face, while Owen wordlessly commanded them to do so…

(Hadn't there being a safety command…)

The rifles charged. It was one of those fancy new guns with laser beings, ready to provide a painful, nasty death.

(A word…)

"One…"

(Hooo…)

"Two…"

(…lllyyy)

"Three!"

(SHIT! I'VE GOT IT!) "RUMPELSTILTSKIN!"

Somewhere, David Xanatos blinked, and couldn't remember what he was doing.

Somewhere, the trio and Angela looked up from whatever they were doing, and looked blankly at each other.

Somewhere, Goliath and Broadway noticed they were carrying two rifles, and wondered what they were doing.

Somewhere, Hudson made an inhuman effort to keep himself awake.

Somewhere, a blond fey tried to blow his own head off.

IV - LAST STOP

The old gargoyle and the pony-tailed millionaire walked side by side down one of castle Wyvern's many halls.

"So, how's he doing?" asked the first one.

"Fine, I guess." Answered the latter. "Today was his first appointment with Dr. Johnson." The millionaire sighed. "Screamed. Yelled. Threw stuff around. Threatened to turn him into a frog. It wasn't as nearly as bad as I expected."

"What did the doctor say?"

"Severe depression. Gave him a truckload of medicines. I'll have the devil's time making him drink them." Then added, "The frog thing scared him. God, he thinks he's delusional!"

"Did you… mentioned the…?"

"Yes… but I assured him he was under constant surveillance. It won't happen again. I'll make sure of that."

The two walked in silence for a moment. "We underestimated him."

"Aye, that we did."

"He never told us."

"You know Owen. He'd never say anything."

"He tried to kill himself!" the millionaire burst out, "Can you believe that!? What did we do wrong?"

"I don't know. Perhaps we underestimated him. Perhaps we underestimated reality. He blamed luck for what happened. And we all need to blame 'something'."

"But how could we have missed it?"

"Because, maybe, we were assuming that nothing was wrong. And thanks to that assumption, we almost lost him."

"I can't help but feel that there's a moral in here somewhere."

"I don't know. It's well-hidden under the pile of nightmares and realities and good luck charms, and we may never find it. But I've learned something. I don't know if it's the moral, or maybe the afterthought, but here it is: we made mistakes because we assumed many things. So I guess the lesson is this: Assume nothing."

"That's sounds more like an afterthought."

"Well… I guess it is… "

"Yeah…"

"Yeah…"

FINITO

Comments? Insults? Money? E-mail me at paganj@caribe.net , our operators are standing by.

(May 14, 1999)

(Revised: April 20, 2001)