I was tired when I got home from court, but who wouldn't be? And it sure as hell wasn't as cut-and-dry as traffic court or the few times I'd been part of a criminal trial with the I.S. Oh no, demon court was a whole other world of pain in the ass paper-pushing crap fest. I thought I'd known they were all bureaucratic slime, but even that was letting them off easy. Even though Al had made me damn near memorize a script in exchange for fixing my room interface, I still had to check my backside in the mirror to make sure the grill marks weren't actually visible.

And I had a monster headache. Probably had something to do with over three hours of trying to follow the proceedings in Latin and only really getting one out of five words, rarely the verbs at that. And the court's mock uproar at having to question me in English. Or maybe Al's never-ending barrage of so-called coaching. God, my face still felt red. It hadn't been as bad as I'd imagined, but they'd asked enough stuff about mine and Al's "relationship" to make me want to crawl under my bed and never come out again. There had been some perks to it though; seeing Newt spitting-mad and unable to do anything about it in court was swell, but having her that pissed at me wasn't so hot.

I was glad he was out for a bit. Apparently getting reservations to some haughty new demon restaurant to celebrate winning damages from Newt, but I was grateful for some quiet time now. While Al was characteristically overbearing, these last few days had been…certainly there was a better word for it than busy? How about mind-numbingly awkward and crotch-teasingly wicked? Al hadn't given up easily, well, actually, he probably still hadn't given up, but I'd at least found some resolve to keep him at arm's length.

I was in the kitchen fiddling with the tea kettle since I'd finally, but unwillingly, been converted into a tea drinker. It wasn't that I liked the stuff, but it was exponentially less foul than the coffee the ever after had to offer. I had the water boiling with a thought, though the practice with that practical ley line charm still wasn't enough benefit to go without coffee. Al had a wide variety of teas as expected from somebody with an unnatural obsession with British culture, and I was poking around the cabinet, sniffing and inspecting them, trying to find one that didn't make my nose wrinkle up.

I froze, the memory of the scent making me feel rested, safe, then horribly, achingly, indomitably lonely. It was gone as quickly as it had been there and an orange peel and cinnamon brew was forcing itself up my nose instead. I stuffed my whole frizzy red head into the cabinet, trying to rediscover that familiar and haunting scent. There was citrus aplenty, cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg enough to make a dozen Grandma-approved pies, peppermint potent enough to slice through the humdrum flavors, and the sweeter persimmon tea that I was almost growing fond of. Where the hell had that smell come from? It was on the tip of my tongue, sweet in scent but musky in taste, and diffusing, lingering, and generally permeating my senses in a wash of half-formed and forgotten memories.

My hand snaked out and snatched up the little silk bag damn near invisible in the corner of the cabinet. I had it nearly jammed up my nose, breathing in the thick smell of incense and ash. This was what I'd wanted, and breathing it in again made me painfully remember why. This damn tea brew smelled like Ivy, a scent which was forever going to smell like home to me.

I dashed away the tears and brewed my tea, trying to keep from getting weepier. It would just be my luck for Al to show up now and pester me all night about my tears. When it was done, Al's entire kitchen smelled like vampire incense. I sat back, closing my eyes and drinking my Ivy tea and feeling even worse than when I had started. But that seemed to be the theme of my tutelage in the ever after: as much as it sucked, things could always get worse. And the tea was surprisingly bitter.

The tinniest bit of a smile had to creep out. It was going to be fun to have Al come home and smell Ivy all over his kitchen. He'd figure it out quick enough, but it was good payback for a demon since they're usually the ones spreading their smell all over god's green earth. Ivy and Jenks knew when the house smelled of burnt amber Al had been there. It was a worrisome smell too entirely apart from the ickiness of it. When he'd still been trying to snatch me, that smell had spelled trouble.

I sat up straighter, my mind buzzing more than the caffeine from the tea should merit. Then I had to grin like an idiot at my admittedly-careless but oh-so-genius plan.

I drank the rest of my Ivy tea in two gulps. The warmth of it spread through me, egging me on further. It was so simple, so funny, and would make me feel immensely better. Ivy and Jenks had to live in fear of Al snatching me, well, this would be some entirely deserved payback. He'd come home, ready to drag me out to dinner, and the kitchen would stink like Ivy had popped in and dragged me back across the lines herself. How utterly ironic a situation for a demon to have to deal with!

I had only a moment's indecision; after all, I had promised not to try this again. But I had done it before, right? And with the thought of Al to guide me, I had gotten there. With Ivy so fresh in my mind and drifting about my senses like a particularly potent ghost, what could go wrong?

And so like the adrenaline-junkie, fluff-headed adolescent proto-demon that I am, I jumped the lines with thoughts of Ivy and home thick and tangible in my mind.

It took a moment for anything to happen. I seriously thought Al had some sort of curse in place to directly interfere if I tried to jump, like hiding the keys from the teen who's failed their driver's ed classes. But no, there was a delay, but I was there, in the lines, my ears almost bursting from the discordant toiling that filled the lines and reverberated through me. And then it hurt, hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before and then some. I tried to gasp, but I had no lungs to suck in the air. And I had no air to choke my whimpers on. It burned even though I had no body, and I tried to keep my thoughts clear and strong on Ivy, using her like a beacon to try and continue through the dark of the pain. But it was too much, I couldn't concentrate, couldn't continue fighting off the panic. I felt like I was splintering, shredding with the heat and pressure of the line burning through me.

I thought then I was going to die for my stupidity. I thought it was finally going to happen and I was damn close to accepting it if that would make the pain end. Then there was dirt under my nails and air imploding into my lungs.

I choked and cringed. It was daytime, I'd forgotten about that. And after weeks without it, the sun, even though it was an evening sun, was too damn bright, almost burning, but nothing like the burning of the line. When I had air enough, I cried, not caring if I was curled up in the dirt in broad daylight. Even without the pain, I knew I'd screwed up. The line was supposed to take me to Ivy, and also not try to burn me into ash and cinder. I tried to look up, but it was so damn bright out here. It hurt to move, it even hurt to think too hard about moving. I didn't mind my face in the dirt; at least the ground was cooler.

Someone was cursing above me. Cursing quite creatively. I tried to pry my eyes open, half-expecting to see pixie dust sifting through the air. But it was dark, so dark I couldn't see. And I really was too tired to try to open my eyes. The voice was drifting in and out, and I wondered where it was going all this time. But then I felt myself moving and realized it was me doing the drifting. This didn't bother me as much as it should.

I drifted in and out and finally came back to consciousness's shore in a blessedly dark room though my skin still felt seared. The heavy blanket over me smelled undeniably of burnt amber, and I tried to shift under it while limiting what else my raw skin touched, trying to get a better idea of where I was and what the hell had happened.

"Rest, itchy-witch. You'd think attempting to addle your brains once would be enough for you, hmm?" Al teased in his infuriatingly-precise and way-too-damn-sexy British accent. I groaned when his warm hand rested against my forehead and tried to pull away.

"The fever will go down, just go back to sleep," Al whispered near my ear. It sounded like a good idea. A fever was a reasonable explanation; it was certainly a better option than being red and blistered from the sun. It also meant I wasn't really a demon, right? The sun just burned because I'd already been hurt in the lines, right? It would also explain why my mind was racing like a pixie on a honey and taffy bender.

I mumbled something that seemed incomprehensible even to me, but a delicate little cup with blue flowers around the lip appeared in his hands. Al braced one arm behind my back to bring me somewhat closer to being upright and the other carefully brought the tea cup to my lips. Of course it was tea. Even after it had been boiled, water was just beyond foul without something to flavor it. But I still wasn't pleased with tea in general right now. It was ginger and lemon too and stronger than I'd make, and I hated it, but I still drank it, my throat and mouth feeling as hot as my skin.

"Better now?" Al asked, wiping at the drops of tea I'd carelessly let dribble from my parched mouth.

I still felt like shit. Why? Because I'd try to jump the lines on my own—again! I tried staring at the only slightly spinning ceiling and figuring out why the hell it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Maybe Newt's insanity was catching. Or maybe I was just an idiot. The latter seemed more accurate since I didn't even try to pull away when I felt the bed shift and the covers lift to admit another. I even leaned back into him, sighing as he closed the little space left between us, letting him cradle me even though I should damn well know better by now.

"It'll all be better in the morning," Al whispered into my ear, and I wanted to believe it, even if he didn't sound so convinced about it himself.

Sorry, I know cheated with the narrative format so I wouldn't ACTUALLY have to write the court proceedings…so shoot me, I'm lazy =P I'm trying to finish this thing before I start school again…Wish me luck…preferably in the form of reviews =)