THE INCREDIBLE SHRINK 'N' WITCH

A crossover fanfic featuring characters from "Frasier" and "Sabrina, the Teenage Witch." It's set in the fall of 1999, the seventh season for "Frasier" and fourth for "Sabrina."

The "Frasier" characters are property of Grub Street Productions, the "Sabrina" characters property of Archie Comics. Both series were produced by Viacom and filmed at Paramount Studios.

CHAPTER 1Frasier, Meet Zelda

"...this is Dr. Frasier Crane, wishing you good mental health." With that, he took off his earphones and quickly rose from his chair; his radio show on KACL was done for the day.

Roz Doyle, his producer, saw his hurried pace. "Why the rush, Fras?" She learned why in seconds when she noticed his father, Martin Crane, waiting in the hallway.

"I have to drive Dad over to the train station," Frasier said, as he walked out of the studio, Roz following him. "An old police buddy of his is returning from a trip and he wants to meet him there."

Martin, hearing the second half of Frasier's comment, nodded in approval. "Yep, Herb Winters, my first precinct captain. Actually, he's professor Herb Winters. He's taught criminology over at the U-Dub for several years now."

Frasier smiled. "Dad asked me to drop Professor Winters off at his house near the university to save him some cab fare. And I, being the generous type, of course complied."

Roz and Martin, both aware of Frasier's mercurial personality, subtly grinned at each other.

"Let's go," Martin said as Frasier put on his overcoat. "Nice seeing you, Roz."

Amtrak's Empire Builder was on the verge of completing its run from Chicago, as Herb Winters noticed while sitting in the lounge car, drinking his beer. The rolling farmland of Washington State was gradually giving way to suburbia, and a minute ago the train had made its penultimate stop of Edmonds.

Herb had boarded the train in the Twin Cities and spent most of the time in his sleeper, as people in their early sixties are wont to do. When he got home that night, he'd review his course materials and prepare to teach his law enforcement class the next day.

His thoughts were suddenly jolted by a woman's voice. "Mind if I sit across from you?" He looked up toward the voice, and found it belonged to an attractive, slender blonde, seemingly in her late thirties, wearing a blue pantsuit and holding a cup of hot tea.

"No, ma'am, be my guest," he said with a smile as she proceeded to sit down. Once she was comfortably seated, he drew out his right hand as a welcoming gesture. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Herb Winters."

She drew out hers, and their hands shook gently. "And I'm Zelda Spellman."

"Enjoying the trip?"

Zelda nodded. "By all means."

"Ride the train often?"

She smiled. "I've done my share." What she didn't, and couldn't, tell him was that she was a witch, several hundred years old, and had been riding trains since their invention in the early 19th century.

Herb nodded. "I got on in Minnesota. And you?"

"Well, actually I've been on since Chicago, when I changed trains from Boston. I'm going to a scientific convention in Seattle."

"This is so much more secure than going by air," he said. "Even if it takes a couple of days."

"I know what you're talking about. Sometimes half the fun of a vacation is getting there, seeing the countryside. I mean, I could've saved time flying," Zelda said. And as a witch, she could have saved even more time by zapping herself from Massachusetts to Seattle, but she saved that option for family emergencies. Plus, she needed a few days away from her younger sister, Hilda, whom she felt confident could look after their teenaged witch niece, Sabrina, for a few days without any trouble. Well, at least that's what she hoped.

"A scientific convention?" Herb asked with interest. "What's your specialty?"

"Chemistry, physics, all sorts of things. I guess you could say I'm a scientific generalist."

He smiled. "I'm a criminology professor at the University of Washington. Do you teach?"

She shook her head. "Not now, I'm afraid. Maybe down the road."

Herb held his can of beer in a mock toast. "To a lady whose beauty is exceeded only by her intelligence."

Flattered by his flirtation, though she realized it was harmless, Zelda gently laughed. "Well, it's nice to see a man who's not intimidated by a woman's brain." Over the years, she had noticed her intellect turned off a lot of otherwise fine men who felt they couldn't keep up with her...and she could only guess how small she'd make them feel if they also knew she had magic powers.

The train chugged on, and Herb pointed to a billboard on a parallel highway. "See the guy whose face is there?" he said. "I'm meeting his father at the station."

Zelda caught a glimpse of the sign, for KACL radio. "'Frasier Crane – he's listening.' Is he a talk-show host?"

"More of an advice program, sort of like Dr. Laura" – Zelda grimaced upon hearing her name – "or Dr. Joy Browne," whom she apparently liked, given her sudden smile. "He's a trained psychiatrist."

"Well, if you know his father, I guess you know Frasier too."

"I do," Herb said. "A good guy for the most part, but at times a bit of a snob...just like his younger brother Niles, who has his own private practice. I still can't fathom how they turned out that way – I mean, they're two sons of a cop, and they're into opera, obscure art, all this highbrow stuff."

That perked Zelda up; she herself could be a bit of a highbrow every now and then. "Do you think this Frasier will be at the train station?"

"If he is, I'll introduce you to him. Just follow me when we get off the train."

"Looking forward to it," she said with a smile.

"So the train's a few minutes late, Fras. Big deal." Martin and his son sat in the waiting room of Seattle's Amtrak station, near an electronic sign that said the Empire Builder was 10 minutes late. "If I know Herb, he's still enjoying the trip."

Frasier was nonetheless exasperated. "Why couldn't Herb have flown from Minneapolis, like normal people do in 1999? I mean, who takes the train anymore?"

Martin shook his head. "Your mother Hester and I took the train on our honeymoon, the Coast Starlight down to Los Angeles. Furthermore, I'm pretty certain you were conceived aboard a sleeper car on the way back."

Knocked down a peg, Frasier grinned. "I'm hoping it was near the Napa Valley, Dad. At least that would explain my superior taste in wines."

"And Herb has a good reason for riding trains," Martin added. "In 1964, he flew to Anchorage to help their police operations after that big Alaska earthquake. The small plane he was on crashed near the airport. Thank God no one was killed, but he suffered more than a few broken bones and was hospitalized for two months. Can you blame him for not wanting to fly?"

Frasier paused to reflect. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that."

"You and Niles were too young to remember him then. And Herb and I don't talk much about it."

The P.A. system interrupted their conversation. "The Amtrak Empire Builder, from Chicago, Milwaukee, Minneapolis-St. Paul, Fargo, Minot and Spokane, will be arriving in three minutes on track B."

Martin quickly rose to walk toward the track, Frasier following closely behind.

The Empire Builder was nearing the end of its run, and Herb and his new friend were standing in the aisle near the door, waiting for the final stop.

"See that over there?" Herb said to Zelda as he ducked and pointed out a window. "That's Safeco Field, the Mariners' new ballpark. Just opened this summer, great place to watch a game. You like baseball?"

"Sure," Zelda said, not letting on the last game she saw was in Boston – at Braves Field in 1952, before the team moved to Milwaukee. For some unknown reason, she had never cared much for the American League, even before the designated hitter.

"I know you are going to enjoy Seattle, Zelda. Have a great time."

"Oh, I'm sure I will. I have reservations at a nice hotel, and I'm looking forward to some first-class seafood."

The train stopped and the passengers alighted. Herb turned to the right, saw Martin and Frasier about 50 feet away, and waved for them to come over. "You wanted to meet Frasier," he told Zelda, "well, here's your chance."

Martin hugged Herb, then Frasier shook his hand. "Did you have a safe trip?"

Herb nodded as Zelda looked on.

"Who's the good-looking blonde with you, Herb?" Martin said with a smile. "You sure can still pick 'em."

"Met her on the train," he replied. "Her name's Zelda. She's in for a science convention."

"Hmmm, Zelda," Frasier said, shaking hands with her. "Named for F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife, I presume."

"No, not really," Zelda answered, grinning outside but slightly perturbed inside. Everyone thinks I was named for her, even though I predate her by several hundred years. If I had a dollar every time people made that comment... "But I am glad you made the allusion. And you're Frasier Crane, the radio star."

"I'm glad you listen."

"Not quite," Zelda replied. "Herb pointed out a billboard to me. Actually, I'm from out of town, near Boston."

"Oh, I know all about Boston," Frasier said, grinning, "thanks to a few degrees from Harvard and several years of practice there. I used to spend a lot of time at a tavern called Cheers. Ever go there?"

"To be honest, I'm not much of a bar-hopper, but who knows? Maybe we crossed paths at a Boston Symphony concert, or at an opera."

"A patron of the arts, I see," Frasier said. He felt increasingly attracted to this stunning woman.

"Fras, I think we better take Herb back to his place," Martin interjected, "and we can also drop Zelda off at her hotel, if she'd like." Zelda nodded.

"Fine," Frasier said. "The money she'll save on cab fare can be spent at one of Seattle's elite restaurants."

"But let's get our luggage first," Herb said.

As soon as Zelda checked into her hotel room some two hours later, she called Hilda on the phone.

"Why didn't you simply zap yourself over here?" her younger sister asked.

"With my luck, I'd materialize in the living room while you were watching a video with some cute firefighter, and we'd have a lot of explaining to do."

"Alas, it's not the case, Zelly. Just me and Salem here. Sabrina's at the library doing research for a school project; she should be home in about 20 minutes."

"Tell Zelda to bring home some of the Northwest's finest salmon," yelled Salem, the family cat. "I can't think of a better souvenir."

Hilda nodded cynically. "How was the train ride?"

"Wonderful, beautiful country. Reminded me of that $1 train trip we made from Kansas City to Los Angeles during the southern California land boom of 1885."

Hilda nodded. "I'm still sorry I kept you from buying the acreage that turned out to be downtown Hollywood."

Her sister shrugged it off. "Anyway, I met this wonderful guy named Frasier Crane, who's a psychiatrist with a radio show here. He's the son of a friend of a man I met on the train." Zelda's enthusiasm was evident, and Hilda was impressed. "Oh, and he spent several years in Boston. Told me he spent a lot of time at a bar downtown called Cheers."

"I went in there once to get out of the rain," Hilda said. "Nice, but I felt so out of place, as if no one knew me. But tell me about this Crane guy. What's so great about him?"

"He challenges my mind. Intelligent, erudite, urbane, sort of a sciences version of Cole Porter or Noel Coward." After hearing several seconds' silence on the other end, Zelda added, "No, not in that sense."

"Whew," Hilda said.

"When he dropped me off at the hotel, he asked me to dinner and a chamber music concert tomorrow night, and I, of course, said yes."

"You sound smitten."

"Oh, I am." Zelda smiled.

"Well, be careful out there, as they used to say on TV," Hilda replied. "And remember the midnight rule." She was referring to a Witches' Council decree that any witch over 21 who had non-forced sexual relations with a mortal he or she was not married to lost their powers to that mortal for the remainder of that calendar day. (Witches under 21 in similar situations didn't transfer their powers to the mortal, but simply lost them for a month.) Many witches beat the system by doing the deed in the minutes before midnight, hence the nickname "midnight rule."

"Hildy, you know me better than that. Do you actually think I want to go to bed with him?"

"Now, maybe not. This time tomorrow, who knows?" Hilda pointed out. "You're 3,000 miles from your home base. Distance sometimes makes us do strange things."

"Well, I better be going through my convention packet to see what seminars I want to attend tomorrow," Zelda said. "Tell Sabrina I'm thinking of her."

"Will do," her sister said. "Take care. Bye." With that, she hung up.