It was unusually warm for late January. Joey found the thought comforting. It made her feel like someone was watching over her. She stole a sideways glance at Royce. He still walked beside her, which she found puzzling. He could easily dematerialize and reappear at the house. Perhaps Royce was genuinely worried about her safety, or more likely, he really did hold a fear for the glass prison that had held him.

The house in front of them was a strange sight. While the sun shone brightly, the house remained dark, as if sucking the light out of the air. It was a stark contrast to the night before. A tingle crept up Joey's spine as a vision seeped into her mind. It steered her to the side of the road. She picked up the biggest rock she could hold and placed it in her backpack.

When she stood, Royce was right beside her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Joey raised a hand to silence him.

"Don't ask," she sighed heavily.

She continued a trek while Royce appeared beside her out of the blue. Joey glanced at him and smiled.

"You look ridiculous with that bat on your shoulder," she chuckled.

"You won't be saying that if I have to beat the Jackal off you again," Royce said flatly.

Joey continued laughing. "Touché."

Royce rolled his eyes, but cracked a small smile at Joey's laughter. It was a bit loud, but sweet and melodic. And the inappropriateness didn't mar his enjoyment of it. Royce considered adding his own laugh, but his throat went dry as he looked up to find the glass house so near.

He put a hand on Joey's shoulder, halting her in her tracks. She turned and looked at him inquisitively. "I want to ask you something."

He was grasping at straws; stalling their progress. Joey gathered this from his slightly agitated voice and defensive stance. She was surprisingly sympathetic and decided to play along. "Shoot."

"What do you have to do to bring me back?"

Joey mulled it over, trying to find the right words. "It's hard to explain. But I'll tell you this; I can't be on this physical plane of existence."

Royce looked confused, but Joey wasn't ready to tell all just yet. He'd have to wait a little longer.

She preceded toward the house with Royce a few steps behind. She looked back at him and said in a soft, jesting voice, "It's not like it can kill you."

He brought his eyes up to meet hers saying coldly "Some things are worse than death."

Joey turned back to the house. "Don't I know it," was her whispered response.

Joey stretched out of the warm ball she had created. She yawned, keeping her eyes closed. It had been a good catnap; no bad dreams. To stall the inevitable wake up, she recounted the day's events.

The doors to the house had been forced open easily. Once inside, they searched for signs of her brother. After several hours with no results, Royce's nervousness and Joey's fatigue led them to a small room. There was a soft couch Joey sat on and that's where she dozed off.

She sat up and stretched again. Looking around, she found herself alone. It didn't worry her too much. Royce was probably resting somewhere close-by. She ate a bit of food from her pack and left the room.

It was dark outside and the walls seemed to glow of their own accord. Joey was halfway down the hall when she saw something to her left. She turned and on the other side of the wall stood a figure facing away from her. It wasn't blue-gray like most ghosts, but it still had an unreal quality. It didn't seem to belong there.

Joey pounded on the Ectobar, trying to get his attention. After a few seconds, he turned around. His eyes went wide when he saw her. He scrambled to an opening in the wall, never breaking eye contact.

Once on her side of the wall, he stopped and stared at her. "Joey?"

"No," she said sarcastically. "I'm just a look-alike who happened to show up."

"Smart ass." He came up to her and hugged her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around once.

"Well, you know what I say, Denny," Joey laughed. "Simple is boring."

"I know," Denny said giving her an extra squeeze before setting her down. He held her out at arms' length for inspection. "Everything seems to be in order. All your limbs are intact. Your head seems okay, at least from the outside. Yep, just the way I left you. Except maybe that blood on your shirt. Where'd you get that?"

"Vision-dream last night. A guy swiped at me and tore some flesh."

"Really? Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Only that he had really creepy blue eyes." She shuddered involuntarily. "I am not looking forward to meeting that guy."

"So, what happens after the guy attacks you?"

"I don't know. I got woke up."

"Woke up?" Dennis cocked an eyebrow. "Who was around to wake you up?"

"A friend of mine," Joey shrugged.

"You? With a friend?" Dennis scoffed. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Okay, maybe not quite a friend. More of a...uh..."

"An associate," a third voice chimed in.

Dennis looked up to see the Torn Prince walking down the hall. He grabbed Joey, dragging her behind him.

"You stay away from us," Dennis menaced feebly.

The specter stopped in mid stride. Joey poked her head around her brother's arm.

"What's going on?"

Recognition crossed Joey's face, then was replaced by slight annoyance. She nudged her brother aside. "It's only Royce. My associate."

Royce appeared before them, standing eye-to-eye with Dennis.

"You hang out with this ghost?" Dennis addressed his sister without looking at her.

The two apparitions stared at each other grimly. Joey had never seen her brother act that way. He was usually a spaz. Granted, he had a good reason to be, but still. He seemed to really distrust Royce.

The staring went on for a few seconds before Joey stopped it.

"As amusing as I find this, and truly I do," she said in all honesty. "This isn't the time or the place for it. Now, can you set this thing aside for a minute so I can explain."

They looked at her expectantly. Joey turned to Dennis.

"Last night he kept me from getting killed by the Jackal. So, I offered him a reward."

"What kind of reward?" Dennis looked back and forth between Joey and Royce.

Joey put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "I saw him, Denny."

Royce shot her a look. What did she mean by that? Was it about one of those vision things?

"So what if he was in one of your--"

"No," she interrupted. She raised her eyebrows. "I saw him."

"You saw..." Dennis's eyes went wide. He looked at Royce, then back to Joey. "You're gonna try bringing us back."

"You weren't supposed to die, Denny." She looked away, as if ashamed. "Neither was he."

"No, no, no, no, no," Dennis pleaded, grabbing her arm desperately. "I don't care about me, and I certainly don't care about him. You can't do this."

"I have to," Joey said quietly. Then, louder "Besides, I figured out a new way to do it. It won't be dangerous."

Royce had had enough. He was tired of being left out of the conversation and that "dangerous" remark wasn't making it better. "What are you guys talking about?"

They both looked at him like they just remembered he was there. Dennis's hand fell away from Joey, and, without thinking about it, Royce's hand went to the opposite side. "What do you mean by 'dangerous?'"

"Like you don't know," Dennis scoffed.

"He doesn't. I never told him." Joey wrapped her fingers around Royce's wrist.

A sudden, warm feeling swept through him. He saw Joey and Dennis, but not like they were supposed to be. They looked the same age, but they were outside on an early, gray morning. Dennis was standing, talking quietly to Joey who was sitting on top of a large gravestone. Inscribed on the stone were two names and a date:

Joseph and Denise Rafkin

April 24, 1997

"Royce."

Joey's voice brought him back to the present. He knew his mind hadn't wandered long, because Joey continued as if nothing happened. "I think it's time I give you the whole score."

Down the hall, invisible to everyone, a particularly nasty ghost listened to the "whole score." He had a great idea. If he played his cards right he could be walking around town in less than a week; and if he was good at anything, it was playing his cards.

He headed away from the trio, and evil smirk twisting his unseen face. He was done rattling chains and falling apart unexpectedly. He couldn't wait to see his own blue eyes and blond hair, feel a clean suit against his skin, or hear a sexy chick say his name. His name; he hadn't thought about it in awhile. What was it again? Oh yeah, two of the nicest sounding words he could think of -- Ben Moss.