A/N: I really hope I can keep at least half as good of an update rate as this. I have stuff to deal with this summer, like my cousin's wedding (I went to the bachelorette party last night, and got major inspiration for a later chapter based off of the awkward dinner!), getting a job, learning to drive, etc. But although I have to deal with that, I'm hoping to complete this by mid-summer…

Aftermath of an Afterlife

Chapter 1: Between Ration and Panic

Vlad yawned, stretching out on his bed, noticing it was several times larger then he remembered it…And more comfortable! The sheets felt so much softer! What was going on? He threw the thought into the back of his mind, writing this off as the increased sleepiness he was currently floating in.

Anyway, he would mull over that thought later, because though he didn't have any classes today, (thank-you long weekends!) he knew Maddie would ream for oversleeping because of his long nights. He didn't mind the attention, not at all. Not from Maddie, but the thought of making her worry… It filled him with both guilt, and love for the woman.

Of course, he and Maddie were just friends. Bitterly so… but so all the same.

For some reason, he was groggier then normal. He always went to sleep around 2:26AM, give or take, and he knew last night had been no different. So why was he having trouble even focusing his eyes on anything?

Groggily, he reached for the glass of water he always kept right by his bedside. After a few grasps at air, he found his green and gold cup, and brought it carefully up to his parched lips. And then—

"Butter Biscuits!"

He was now fully awake, but more pre-occupied with the freezing ice-cold water he was drenched in. How did he manage to drop the glass? He knew he had a firm grip on it. He didn't even feel it slip.

"Geez… now I'm freezing!" he shouted to no one in particular. He tried swiping at the excess water, not caring if his bed was wet. "This is so wrong! I'm definitely going to be late now! Even Jack is going to chew my head off now!" Sighing in defeat, he looked up from his soaked pajamas…

…and found himself lost in someone else's room…

A near panic-attack, a string of several snack-related exclamations, twenty-seven attempts to wake up, and a sigh later, Vlad Masters found himself pacing the room back and forth, trying to figure out where he was, without leaving the slightly creepy room.

He reasoned that he wasn't cowering in someone else's room afraid for his life, he was being rational. He could have been kidnapped in his sleep! Possibly by a psychotic old woman tired of cats and seeking a 20-year-old boy-toy. Not that Vlad was afraid of an old woman though. Not at all, but… If she happened to be guarding the door with a gun or booby-trapped the door or something… then it was best that he avoided harm until he could formulate a plan for escape.

Yes, he was being rational about this. He definitely was not scared. 'And, even if I was scared… just a little tiny bit… then it's quite understandable. After all, I'm only human, and this is my life at stake…' he reasoned with himself.

"I'm definitely not scar—"

He was cut off by his foot getting caught by some unseen force that anchored it to the floor. It felt like his foot was in the floor! He started breathing quickly, raggedly, like a bear caught in a trap. All ration was abandoned for the sake of pure terror, as he tried violently to rip his leg up from the carpet, keeping his other, free leg firmly planted on the floor.

After several attempts, he found himself face down on the floor, once again trying to fight the panic that had overtaken him moments before. His foot had gotten free, but only after his other leg buckled under the force. He would ignore that he only buckled after he thought his leg phased through the floor. He was a rational man, and that wasn't rational.

"Neither is your psychotic, kidnapping granny theory."

"Shut up!" Vlad shouted as loudly as possible in response. After scanning the room, he realized that he was still alone. Eyes still darting across the room, looking for anywhere the voice could have come, anything to prove his sanity wasn't deteriorating. He backed up, and sat on the edge of the comfortable, but foreign bed, putting his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his legs.

"Oh sweet saccharin…" he whispered to himself quietly. "I'm going completely insane." He blinked a few times, his eyes burning slightly. For the first time, he looked out the window beside him, and saw nothing but forest for miles around. 'Great. I'm on the edge of insanity in someone else's house in the middle of the woods…'

And then, he noticed something else in the window, but not tree-filled view. Barely visible, but visible all the same, staring back at him was an older man with stark white hair and dark lines under his blue eyes.

Hand now shaking ever so slightly, he reached behind his back, grabbing hold of his ponytail. Bringing it to the front, he stared in utter shock at the white hair in his hands.

"This isn't happening! This isn't possible!" he shouted angrily at whatever could hear him—ghosts, gods, kidnapping grannies—whatever was to blame him for the situation he was now in!

"…Jack Fenton…"

Vlad decided to ignore the voice this time completely. Instead, he jumped from the edge of the giant bed and ran straight for the door, tripping again like he had before, but this time he shook away the feeling of falling through the floor, throwing himself at the door as he fell.

He ripped his hand for the knob, and ignored that his hand went through three times before he caught it in his grip, running as fast as he could, away from the foreign bed in someone else's creepy room, ignoring his previous fear of the rest of the house. He stumbled into the dark hall, dashing like a mad man to find an exit from this place.

Something stopped him dead in his tracks, though. As he turned a corner, he found himself by a stairwell, which was really great, but before he even noticed that was there, he found himself staring at a wall.

Well, more precisely, it was what was on the wall, painted on. A man with a strict face, bright white hair tired into ponytail behind him, blue eyes full of dignity. He wore a business suite, and though this was only a mural, both the portrait and the man depicted radiated wealth.

However, surrounding the portrait were two others of the same man, identical in every way to each other, both depicted the same man, only now at the turn of a hall with a look of drowsiness, fear and confusion. It wasn't until a quick movement and a yelp later that he realized that these were mirrors cast onto him. But… he looked so old…?

It had to be someone else. It was a window maybe! With the little old kidnapping granny's son or something imitating his every moment. That had to be it. There was no possible way that that was hi—

"That's you, you idiot!"

Vlad was seriously pondering his sanity at this point.

AN: This chapter was supposed to be much longer, actually, but I've decided that breaking this chapter into two parts would be better, and it would seem much less rushed. I was not liking the part written after this, so I decided to cut this chapter right here. Half of the next chapter is already written, so don't worry about a slow update.

And Remember! Reviews are very, very much appreciated, and I'll try to respond to everyone if I can. Thanks!