Anne sat on the couch, looking at the two. Well, rather squinting. It was the thought that counted. She blew her nose again, managing to clear nasal passages enough to speak a bit more coherently and clearly.

"So....you're like the Ghostbusters, only with more leather and fewer proton packs?"

Trish nodded. "That's....about right, actually. Only we do demons instead of ghosts."

Anne pondered this, fairly evidently torn between denial and acknowledgement. She noted absently, "And not as much Dan Ackroyd and Bill Murray."

Dante snorted, getting a watery blowtorch glare from her. "Shaddab," Anne snapped. "I *lige* Agkroyd and Murray."

Trish looked up towards the heavens pleadingly a second. "The point being; demons exist. They're not just tabloid fodder. They do. Most people never meet one in their lives, which is good for them. But they do exist, and if it wasn't for people like us, life would be a lot nastier for the very people that like living in denial of the fact."

Anne blew her nose again. "So Dante here is partially right, you guys investigate, it's just ghoulies and ghosties and leggety beasties."

"That tend to rip your head off and eat the brains, yes."

"Fun. Reminds me of the cafeteria at university. What I remember of it. The Goths *were* making Tekeli-li jokes about the broccoli." Another nose-blow. "You kills them with *swords*?"

"Nah," Dante commented absently. "Goths you just smack with a newspaper, they die easy." Trish swatted him. "Er, I mean, ow, dammit, Trish, stop that."

Trish smiled sweetly. "Doctors have their extra-cold stethoscopes, demon hunters their swords. It's an accessory thing."

"Big-ass swords that do enough special effects to make you look like an escapee from /Highlander/?" Anne asked coolly, eyes directed at Dante. Dante scowled.

"Would ya rather I held back and risk Ugly having gotten his slimy hands around your neck last night?" he asked flatly. Anne's look of surly self-righteous indignation deflated in a wretched flush, before she rallied.

"This concerns me too, Dante. I didn't know half of this, to begin with. Or why you two were so interested in the first place. If I'd known...." Anne's voice trailed off, her eyes empty and haunted.... "...Well.....at least I wouldn't....wouldn't have thought it was just me and I was going slowly mad. Maybe I am. I....just was afraid I'd do it alone."

Dante smirked, though it didn't reach the hair-veiled eyes. "Hey, join the insanity, it's fun here." His voice went more serious. "If you're going crazy, it's not that way, Annie. Somethin' else is percolating."

"Then how *am* I? I just want to know *something* definite and real, I don't know why I'm here or what's for sure or what happened to me or what *past* I should be having..." She took in breath through her mouth, blowing her nose again. "I just....stop holding out on me. So I *know* what's going on. I'm tired of being bounced around by things I don't even understand."

Dante leaned back on his own chair, pondering. "So. Whaddaya want to know?"

Anne paused. She hadn't really thought about this bit.

She then let out a breath.

She took it in again.

"Why, on God's green earth," she commented, "do you have such a hideous decoration scheme?"

Dante smacked his face into his palm.

Anne wandered over to Alastor, in its place of poster-girl-boob-covering honor, pondering the massive blade, smirking and blowing her nose in the meantime. "Or, for that matter, swords that do the Highlander SFX in the first place..." She pondered it, her hand reaching out to the hilt. Almost expectantly, violet electricity started sparking around it, strengthening as her hand neared the hilt, her eyes fascinated--

"*Don't touch it!*" Dante barked, seeing her. Trish startled, rising from her seat and watching, her eyes wide with fear, having also seen. "That thing is *not* safe for you to--" He trailed off, silver eyes widening as he saw she was suddenly not listening, staring stock still, her eyes' irises suddenly cold argent.

Suddenly she stiffened and jerked, her back arching, head snapping back, hand clawing for her breast.

"...the fuck?" he trailed off lamely, Trish ignoring him and dashing over to the transfixed woman. "What's going on?"

"Crap, Dante, I think she's having another--" Trish reached her, reaching out for her shoulder.

Anne's rigid position unlocked, so rapidly that she buckled and would have landed butt-first on the floor if Trish hadn't rapidly caught her as she went. Her eyes, as they stared at the Thunder Sword, were again dark, and wide with shock. The tableau held for a second.

Then her eyes turned and fixed on the half-risen Dante, and they were wide in fear, and shock...and wonder.

"That thing..... It went clean through you." One delicate, nail-bitten hand went up, to cradle her sternum, reflexively.

"It....ran through your heart." She was shivering. So was Dante, now feeling a lot of little cold feet do a cha-cha up his spine at her expression.

"God almighty....you rose up through that hilt, it gouged a hole in your chest....and you *survived*." Her tremble stepped up a notch. "I felt it. The pain.... I was you....it was the same clothes, same everything..... Dante, /what the hell are you/?"

Trish watched this silently, then gave the woman a squeeze around the waist where she held her. "Okay, Dante, we're going to have to go for the Advanced, for Experts Only explanation."

Dante smacked his face with hand again.

"Aw, shit. I *hate* the Advanced Explanation."

Anne blinked, emotions on a razor edge--then started giggling hysterically. And sneezing. This caused a bit of a mess until she got it all sorted out.

Trish blinked. "Well. Ew."

"Sorry!" Anne cleaned off her own face with another kleenex.

"Um, this wouldn't have anything to do with the whole spawn of the pit of the hell I didn't overhear, really, honestly, would this face lie bit?" she asked diffidently. "And the whole you playing Superman thing last night. And well..."

"The fact he can't cook worth a damn and lives on cold takeout?" Trish interjected, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, *hugs* and *kisses* to you *too*! Bitch." Trish batted her eyes at Dante sweetly. This prompted another snotty sneeze-wracked paroxym of giggles from Anne.

Dante snorted, wandering over and helping Trish with aiding Anne back to the couch. "Okay. Advanced Stupid Explanation Time. So. Babe, you prone to...okay, you already done the hysteria bit. Uh. Eh, fuck it, Explaining. Uh. Well. Uh. How to put this."

"I can do it!" Trish said brightly. "Anne, Dante is--"

"Shaddap, Trish. Okay--"

"--Flaming gay?" Anne offered.

"NO!"

"--Republican?"

"FUCK no!"

"--A terrorist?"

"Noooooo."

"Tony Blair's secret identity?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake. Trish, stop laughing and get off the floor."

Anne said, "I was just getting started."

Dante stared at her. "Who are you, and what drugs have *you* been on recently?"

Anne sneezed again. "I'd tell you, but I don't think the DayQuil's kicked in yet."

Trish absently twitched legs, from where she was lying on the floor and shaking, holding her sides.

"Oh, flock it." Dante sighed. "Anne, my father was a demon, I'm half-demon, I got some nifty extras out of it, we kill demons for a living, Trish used to be on the wrong side of the fence but got better, so did my dad, please don't get the ofuda or the exorcist. Thank you, game over, good *night*."

There was some silence after this. Dante silently and truth be told a little tensely watched Anne's sight pan from him to Trish, trying to absorb this, her mercurial mood shifting back to cold sobriety again as she blinked several infinite times.

"So...it wasn't just a turn of speech, was it."

Dante shook his head. Trish sat up, likewise watching Anne with some worry.

Anne sighed, and tapped the side of her head, continuing to sniffle. "I...can seem to intellectually understand this. It sounds like the plot of a bad movie, but I hear what you're saying," She paused. "But I've got visions that hit me, a monster attacked me last night, and I have had Dante leap dozens of feet carrying me over a creek." She paused. "Oh, and for variety, the vision of the monster sword attacking Dante and running him through. Which he survived. So I suppose you aren't B.S.ing me and I'm in smile and nod territory. Plus, you both saved my life." Another pause. "Just...give me a bit to let this sink in."

Dante plopped gracelessly down on the couch next to her, hands between his knees. He was oddly relieved to see she wasn't shrinking away from him. Yet. Aisha and Tony had taken a bit to adjust. "Sure. Not gonna do anything against me or Trish, are ya?"

"No. Why?"

"Because holy water gives me a frickin' rash."

Anne ponders, grinned a bit, and bobbed her head in amusement.

Trish finally got up on the other side of Anne on the couch, still giggling soundlessly. Dante rolled his eyes, sobered and then sat back, gathering his thoughts.

"Okay, class. This is what I've seen goin' on with this so far..."