-/-/-/-/- Two nights before Now, approx. 11:30 PM

One minute, Mason had been chatting to a very attractive woman at one of his favorite bars. She was getting him very worked up in the slinky blue number she barely wore, and from the way she was looking at him, she was feeling the same way.

It was loud in the rest of the bar, but the corner where they sat was the farthest away from the speakers. They still had to speak loudly, but talking was much easier there, not that either of them really cared for making small talk. Already, her bare leg was making its way up his pants leg. If they didn't get a room soon, they would be hard pressed to contain themselves long enough to find even an empty street corner.

"Excuse me." It took a few minutes for the voice to register, and that was only after the intruder had repeated his request four times. Mason and the girl both glared up at the man with slick brown hair and amused, though somewhat shocked, gray eyes.

"We're trying to have a moment here, do you mind?" asked Mason, scowling ineffectively.

He raised his arms in a peaceful gesture. "Terribly sorry. It's just that…well, I guess I needn't have worried" He addressed Mason, "If you've already returned to the fold, as they say, you must have gotten over that disgusting rash you were suffering from just last week…"

"Rash?" Mason's date asked, alarmed. "What rash?"

"Yeah, what rash?" Mason asked stupidly, his whiskey stunted brain too busy trying to work out where he'd seen the man before. He was British, like him, but his accent was thicker, meaning he'd been in the States for a shorter time. That didn't tell him much, though.

The strange British man winced. He addressed Mason's date, "He gets this nasty rash down around his privates sometimes. It's occurred regularly since he was fifteen. Awful stuff. Contagious, too."

The woman's jaw dropped. Scandalized, she slapped both of Mason's cheeks, hard, before shooting to her feet and out the door of the bar.

Mason rubbed his stinging cheeks as he stared at the door. "What was that for?" he wondered. "I don't have a rash."

At this, the other man could no longer contain himself and burst into giggles. "No, but she certainly thinks so, doesn't she?" After a moment, his giggles died down. He stared at Mason for a long minute, the look of shock returning to his features. He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "So, cousin, I see you have yet to move on as your mum had hoped."

Mason turned away from the door and blinked at him. "Who're you?" he asked, confused.

The other man tsked in annoyance. "Fuck it, Mason," he muttered as he slid into a chair on Mason's right and pulled his wand out of an inner jacket pocket. "You always were such a screw-up in life. You couldn't even change that after your death."

Other patrons were startled when a light suddenly flashed in the dim corner near the entrance to the bar. When nothing else happened, however, they dismissed it and turned away from the table where the two men sat.

Mason shook his head. His head was suddenly a lot clearer. Thanks to the hangover solution his cousin had forced down his throat after performing the Sobriety Charm, he was feeling pretty good, too, though remnants of the potion had dripped down his chin onto his shirt.

His cousin pulled the small bottle away from Mason's mouth, screwed the lid back on and pocketed it along with his wand. "Should have known I'd need a second bottle," he muttered. He told Mason, "I made that potion for me, you cock-sucker."

Mason stared at him, eyes wide. His breath caught in his throat as he finally recognized who sat next to him. Now that his brain was working properly, thoughts flew by quickly. He wondered what Jexter was doing in Seattle. Even more, he wondered what Jexter was doing in that bar and what Jexter thought he was doing waving a wand in there.

"Do I know you?" he tried, trying to look innocently clueless. He was feeling confused enough to pull it off without much effort.

Jexter scowled at him. "Cut the crap. I know you're Mason Rayne, even if you don't look like him. Personally, I'm wondering what you're doing here in Seattle of all places when I know for a fact you died on the East Coast in 1966!"

His voice had risen steadily with each word. Wide-eyed, Mason scooted away from him. The reaper was beginning to panic. "Fuck!" he said. His cousin knew who he was. He didn't know what he was, but he did know the 'who' bit. This was not good, not good at all. Grim reapers had to follow specific rules in death. One of those rules stated very clearly that they couldn't tell the living what they were. Another one forbade any and all contact with family members or friends the reapers had in life.

"Fuck, Mason!" Jexter exclaimed, frustrated. "It's great to see you, don't get me wrong, but I'm still awfully confused."

"I-I'm…" Mason swallowed. "I'm not a ghost, if that's what you're thinking."

"Well, of course you're not a ghost! You'd be see-through then, wouldn't you?"

"Er, true…" Mason said, frantically searching his mind for some explanation. True ghosts, those few souls that chose to stay behind and not move on, did take on a certain transparency in order to be seen by the living. Fortunately, this only occurred with souls of wizards of witches, seeing as how they were the only ones that knew of the option in the first place. Mason shuddered to think of the number of spooky-looking apparitions that would be floating around the Muggle world if Muggles also knew of the option.

Jexter's eyes narrowed. His eyes roamed slowly down Mason's body as the wizard tuned into Mason's aura.

Brow furrowed, Mason glanced down at himself. "What are you looking at?"

His cousin's jaw dropped. Eyes nearly bursting out of their sockets, he swung his gaze up to Mason's face. "You're a…a-"

He shot to his feet, making Mason jump slightly. Jexter laughed uneasily and gave him an unsteady, peacemaking smile. "S-sorry to have bothered you." Without another word, he shot out of the bar.

Mason watched him go as if stupefied. When Jexter was halfway out the door, though, Mason shook himself, hurried to his feet and ran after his cousin. "Wait!"

Mason raced out the door and onto the sidewalk. He could see no one to the left. He whirled right. "Jexter!" he called after the figure that was racing away down the sidewalk. Without thinking about what he was doing, Mason gave chase. Jexter had a good head start, but Mason was the better runner and was steadily catching up to him.

Jexter glanced behind him. He panicked when he realized the reaper was gaining on him.

A loud crack resounded in the air.

"No! Wait!" Mason cried.

His cousin vanished, Disapparating.

Mason ground to a halt, panting heavily. He stared ahead at the empty sidewalk. "Fuck it!" he exclaimed.