Chapter Four

The North Pole

Crystal had landed in a snowbank and had just stayed there for a few minutes, shivering not from the cold but rather from the immense pain in her heart and soul. Never had she hurt as much as she did now, not when she'd been attacked for the first time as a child, not when she'd lost Mark, nor even when she'd been cast out from the North Pole and her family there. It was a pain that blinded her with tears she dared not take the time to shed, a pain that made her breath come in short, shallow gasps, a pain that filled her more than anything else ever had.

She'd finally had a family again. After so many long years, she had finally found love and people who cared for her and loved her more than she'd ever deserved, but how had she repaid that love? By allowing Frostbite to go after them and then by running away when they were unconscious. She knew Lorne and Angel would never understand and never forgive her. Her children would know why she had done what she'd done but would be unable to understand why, after all these years, she'd even left them -- or, at least, they would refuse to understand.

Not that she could blame them. She was the lowliest bitch on the face of the planet for what she had done, risking all their lives, and there was nothing she could possibly do to make it up to them. All she could do was try to stop it from happening again before it was too late. Wiping the tears she had not even been aware of from her face, Crys blinked while sitting up, trying to gain focus so that she could see where she had landed.

She was faced with a town that caused her breath to catch in her throat. It had worked. She'd thought she'd never see this place again, but here she was. Cozy cottages and houses lined both sides of the makeshift road, a road that was not filled with gravel and did not have the snow shoveled away from it. No, the snow was only thinner where the road was and covered with footprints of all types.

Candy canes lined the road, as well, and a lantern hung from each cane, its fire casting light over the village. Cold winds whistled through the town, and Crys knew that it would not be long before her arrival was known, if, indeed, they did not already know. The winds rattled the lanterns, but their fires did not go out. Crys knew they never would . . . not unless some evil found a way to kill Christmas.

This was the town of Christmas come to life, a fairy tale place if indeed there ever had been one, and outsiders would not dream that evil could touch here. Insiders also did not believe it to be possible, but Crys knew that one of the deepest, darkest, most powerful evils lived here. It was an evil that was set to go after her family even now and the reason why she was here.

Getting to her feet, Crystal wiped away the last of the tears that she'd failed to hold back. As she wiped them away, she had to fight to keep from crying more, but she could not afford the time that it would take her to clear her vision again. She had to move swiftly if she was to save her family. She had to call Frostbite back here, away from the others and to her.

Turning around, Crystal found herself facing a winding pathway that appeared almost to be made of gingerbread crumbs. She never had been certain what it was and had even tried the tiny pebbles as a kid. They had actually tasted like gingerbread, but Mrs. C had always claimed that they were not to be eaten.

Shaking the thoughts away, Crystal looked around her. Snow was everywhere as were festive lights of all the lighter colors imaginable. Nowhere was there any sign of darkness, but Crys could feel him in her bones. He must be closing in on her family, which meant she had to hurry.

Spying the building she was looking for, Crystal headed toward it. She felt eyes following her and paused just long enough to turn her head in the direction she knew some one was watching her from. Her ice blue eyes met eyes of literal coal. At one time, the snowman would have grinned, taken his tophat off, and waved at her, but now his button mouth turned down in a frown and his sticks of arms waved condescendingly at her. "You shouldn't be here," he told her.

I know, Crystal thought. I should be able to be with my family, but I can not be. She did not answer him, however, but turned around and continued on at an even quicker pace as her heart cried out for Lorne, her children, and Angel.

As she neared the door, she had to pass by several others. Bright lights danced away from her, giving her wide berths, and tinkling voices repeated the snowman's warning to her. She shouldn't be here. They didn't want her here. She already knew all that! They didn't have to whisper about it all around her, nor did they have to tell it to her face!

Crystal was almost to the door when one of the many voices rose above a whisper. "Hey, she's actually going in!"

Her ice blue eyes darted to where three over-grown Elves were hiding in the shadows, watching her. It was the fat, balding one who had spoken, and now the brunette slapped him in the back of his head. "Shut up, you numbskull! You don't want her to hear you!"

Crys' eyes widened as she looked at the trio. They were outcasts amongst the Elves for they were far taller than most of the rest of Santa's Elves, and yet even they looked at her in fear. Even now the curly-haired one appeared to be ready to climb up the brunette. "Hey, Moe!" he exclaimed, his voice squeaking like a frightened mouse. "She's looking at us!"

"I can see that, you idiot!" Moe snapped, popping him. "Shut up, will ya, and maybe she won't say anything!"

Crystal didn't say anything. She just looked at them with sadness and turned her back to them. She was now before the door that was trimmed in green, gold, and red and had a wreath upon it. A mouse peeked out at her from the wreath, screamed, and hid back into its branches.

Crystal grasped the door knob but did not turn it just yet. Instead, she whispered swiftly, knowing her words would reach her uncle. "You think you know where I'm at, David Frost? You really do, don't you, uncle? But the game's on you! I never cared for those people, any of them, least of all that ugly, green Demon!" Her heart hurt more with each practiced word that passed between her lips.

"I just used them, used them to lure you away so that I could come home! I'm going to tell Santa the truth now, and there's nothing you can do about it because you're too busy chasing Pirates in the Caribbean!" She forced her words to sound snarling and belittling and shoved a bark of laughter in behind them.

"You want me, Frostbite?" she questioned the air with far more gutso than she'd ever felt when facing him. "Then you'd best come get me while you still can!" With that, she turned the knob, and the door swung open.

Somewhere

Pain was the first thing she was aware of. A searing, red-hot pain in her gut that made her hand go instinctively to it but then made her flinch when she touched the wound. She pulled her fingers away from the open spot, wriggling them in an effort to shake off the sticky substance that had plastered them and that she recognized as being her form of blood and the blood of others, others who she had never intended Ray to know about.

Mouse groaned as she sat up, her head pounding. She knew her wound and all her other physical aches and pains would heal with time, but what of Ray and the injury that their relationship had undoubtedly undertaken with his discovery of the truth, the truth that she'd tried so hard, for so many cycles, to hide from him? What would he say? What must he think of her now, now that he knew the awful truth?

Was he even still alive? They'd survived so many dangers together, but nothing quite like last night. Was her man even still alive to ridicule her, to be sickened at the sight of her and the realization of how she lived? She knew he would be. He had to be. It had taken Bob cycles to get used to the idea, and even then he had never looked at her the same again. She knew he never would, but he also would have kept her secret.

Everything would have been fine if not for that stupid Werewolf, but it was too late for "if"s now. She had to find Ray, Mouse thought as her purple eyes blinked open and quickly regained focus. She had to find Ray and make sure he was still among the processing, even if he no longer wanted anything to do with her, even if he screamed at the sight of her, even if he cursed her for what she had to do to live . . .

Her head spun as Mouse got to her feet. She tried to ignore the thoughts and images that burned their way through her mind, but they continued persistently, each one worse than the last, as she began her hunt. She could hear wailing and voices calling for their loved ones all around her, but though some of the voices were familiar, none were the one she searched for nor did any of them belong to the rest of her family.

Crew members, yes, but not her family. Many Pirates grew to consider their crew mates their family members, but not Mouse. It had taken her cycles to accept the familial relationships that had been offered to her back in Mainframe, but once she had, nothing could have swayed her loyalty from her unit. Now, however, as she searched for Ray, she feared that their loyalty would turn from her. She would soon lose her family, Mouse realized, her hand at the ready on the hilt of her blade.

She knew already without finding him that she had lost Ray, and she would lose her family just as soon as he found Enzo and AndrAla and told them the awful truth. Bob would side with them, she knew, though he wouldn't turn against her in private, but by the 'Net, she didn't want Bob. She wanted Ray, and she had as surely lost him as the hole in her stomach was already healing itself! Mouse shoved down the dejected sigh that rose in her throat and continued her search.

Somewhere

Morph had lost Celina's scent when he'd fallen but had resumed his search as soon as he'd found solid ground underneath his paws again. Now, at last, he'd picked her scent back up and followed it as swiftly as he could, his four legs growing into the long, agile build of a greyhound's to increase his speed. He leaped over bodies, sprinted around grievers, and darted between Spike's legs just when he was closing in on Kyna's head. The Vampire's yell of protest went unnoticed by the shapeshifter as he continued after his own wife.

Finally, Morph reached her, and as he closed in on her, he began to demorph. He fell onto his knees beside her, and his canine nose shrank back to human as his tear-filled eyes gazed down upon her beauty. Her chocolate and cream fur was flat against her body, and she was the stillest he'd seen her in a long time. She did not even appear to be breathing. "Celina!" he cried her name as soon as his mouth returned, his fur-covered hands reaching out to shake her.

When Celina did not respond to his touch, Morph laid his head against her breast and listened, his brown eyes wide with frantic fear. The sound of her heartbeat sent reassurance surging through his body, and with a whoop of relief, he leaned up, his shaggy, brown hair falling all around his face, to kiss her. His hand reached up, cupping her head and tilting it upwards so that her lips better met his own, and his fingers threaded into her ebony hair as he deepened the kiss.

Come on, love, he tried failingly to speak to her through the telepathic bond they shared. Wake up. He knew she would come to soon, and for that, he thanked the Gods. He only hoped that Katrina and Tom had fared as well, but he'd look for them only after his wife was awake and back at his side again.

The memory of laying his chin against the redhead's breasts came to him. This time, the memory disgusted him, and Morph did his best to hurriedly shove it away. Celina's fur might keep him from feeling her skin directly against his own, but she was still the only one for him. She always had been, and she always would be. His mind, heart, and soul all knew that; they only had to keep his member, which, unfortunately, had a mind all its own at times, under control.

Somewhere

Sandpaper kisses were the first thing she became aware of as her mind turned back to consciousness. She swatted blindly at the cat running her tongue over her face. "Kit," she protested, "stop it!" Kit's loud, urgent meow brought her eyes flashing open. "What is it?"

And then she remembered. As the memories flashed through her head at a blinding rate, her face fell, and she murmured only, "Oh," yet her heart cried. Her mother and grandmother were dead, gone forever. Her life had become engulfed in Supernatural beings and Pirates, which, as cool as it was, was also incredibly dangerous. She had been taken along with her sisters, their aunt, and most of their new family by evil Piratesses who were bent on destroying them, yet she'd been saved by a strong . . . African? man.

She wasn't sure if her savior had truly been black or if it had merely been the lack of lighting that had made his skin appear to be so dark. It didn't really matter, she reasoned. What did matter was finding her sisters, their aunt, and, of course, Joxer. She prayed they were all right. What had happened after she'd been saved and reunited with Joxer? Phoebe frowned as she struggled to remember exactly what had happened.

Joxer and she had gone down into the sleeping quarters, where they'd thought they'd be safe. They had been joined, in time, by both Lex and Piper. Piper, whose eyes had been forced out of her head for the second time only to be returned by a healer but without her eyesight. Phoebe had been reading a spell to return her sister's eyesight and trying hard to make the chant work when Joxer had noticed that the walls were turning to ice. They'd fled to the water . . . But that was all Phoebe could remember.

Her frown increased. Something had to have happened to save them. They weren't still in the water, but -- her hand reached out and felt of the cold, stone floor beneath her -- they definitely weren't on land either. Where were they? Phoebe tried to look around, but all she could see was darkness.

As Kit meowed again, Phoebe gathered the Siamese cat close to her breasts and sat up. Still peering out at the darkness that was all around them, Phoebe called out. "Joxxy? Piper? Prue? Paige? Auntie 'Ro?" For a moment, no answer came to her at all, and then a wail that sounded even louder than the ones before it had frightened Phoebe.

"K-Kit," she nervously questioned the cat held in her arms, "w-what's g-going on?" The wails seemed to be growing in number now, but in truth, Phoebe was only starting to pay more attention to them. She didn't recognize a single voice that was crying nor any of the names they called. "I-Is this H-Hell?" Another shiver ran through Phoebe at the cat's answering meow.

Somewhere

Zora and Kat had been making their way through the shadows for some time now, winding in and out of unconscious bodies and glancing at those who were now conscious and moving around, but who neither woman cared about at that moment. The first of their own people that they came across was Hansel. He was on his knees in the floor, his face nearly touching his knees as he sobbed, whimpered, and cried in a heap.

The women glanced at each other, communicating without ever saying a word. They knew that Derek had been taken for they had heard Hansel crying for him when they first started on their search. They also realized that there was nothing they could do for their friend as they could not bring Derek back from the dead. Kat saw the glistening wetness in Zora's green eyes and blinked away the feel of tears from her own.

The redhead shook her head, and the blonde slowly nodded her agreement. There was nothing they could do for Hansel, and only time could heal the hole that Derek's murder had left in his heart. They would be there for him -- but later. Now they had to find their own family before they lost them as Hansel already had Derek.

The two women parted, walking around Hansel as his great sobs continued raking his body. The man sniffed as he unfurled from his position. He looked at the women through tear-filled eyes, not recognizing either for who they were, and collapsed again, once more screaming Derek's name. This time, his hand grabbed the heel of Kat's boot.

Kat very nearly fell, but she regained her composure at the last possible second and shook Hansel off of her boot. He looked up at her and between sniffles asked in a trembling voice, "D-D-Der-Der-Derek?"

Kat shook her head. "Nae. I'm sorry, but . . . "

Hansel's thundering cry drowned the rest of her response out as he flung himself once more against the floor. "DEREK!"

Kat and Zora looked at Hansel and then again at each other. Slowly, both women shook their heads, and each determinedly kept her tears from surfacing. They turned and continued their search together.

The North Pole

Crystal stepped through the open doorway into a busy workshop where activity stopped the very second she entered. Some Elves screamed; others tried desperately to hide themselves amongst rows of tables, work benches, and presents of all sizes and types. Whispering grew to an even louder, more fevered pitch that buzzed in Crystal's ears like a hive of bees intent on stinging her for stealing their honey.

Somewhere, reindeer snorted, and Crystal's gaze turned toward the sound. Prancer snorted again from where he stood by another reindeer with a glowing nose. Rudolph shook his head, his light shining even more brilliantly, and stomped his hoof against the floor.

"You shouldn't be here." The throng of Elves dressed in red and green jumpsuits and dresses parted to allow the speaker to come forward. Eyes that looked kindly upon every other being in the world bored into Crystal from behind spectacles, and she found that she felt once more like a misbehaving child underneath his stern gaze.

But she hadn't done anything wrong! It was Frostbite! It had always been Frostbite! She started to open her mouth to speak, but he spoke again before she could even get so much as one word out. "You should not be here, Crystal. You are forbidden to be here." He sighed, running a hand down his long, white beard. "But I suppose I should be surprised it took you this long to return again as you obviously have so little respect for us that you broke our rules even as a child."

He met her gaze, and his words chilled her. "You were always the only child that I could not reach, the only little girl who never deserved anything for Christmas."

"But, Santa," Crys exclaimed, forgetting all the words she'd practiced so many times before in dreaming, planning, and scheming of the moment that she might be granted another chance to talk sense into him, "it wasn't me! I didn't make it up! I swear I didn't!"

"You said the same over two hundred years ago, but you still have no proof."

"I have my word! Why is that not good enough! I am one of yours, Santa! Why can you not accept me and at least investigate it!" She started to step toward him but stopped when Rudolph and Prancer flanked him and the Elves nearly poured into the path between them.

"You are not one of mine, Crystal. You made that clear the day that you brought such absurd accusations against your uncle. David Frost is a good man, a Saint among men, and you would have us believe him to be a monster! No true North Polean is capable of such evil things as you claim that he has done, nor have the lies that you persistently spout! Now leave!"

"No!"

Kris Kringle's face went red, and the tip of his white beard curled upwards. "You dare defy me still, child? I have done all that I could for you -- "

"You have done nothing for me! None of you have! None of you ever believed me, ever once thought that I might be speaking the truth! You all side with him! Why, I do not know and I never will, but I have my rights!" Shocked gasps had sounded after each of her sentences after she'd cut Santa off but none more than with her last. "As a Cold Elemental, I have the right to call upon the North Wind to answer any question concerning my powers that I want to ask, and I am invoking that right now!"

"You are not a North Polean and therefore have no right to demand -- "

"Maybe I'm not a North Polean," Crystal returned, her blazing eyes meeting Santa Claus'. Maybe I'm a Piratess. "But I am still an Elemental, and unless the North Wind wishes to strip me of my powers as you did my ears and my home all those years ago, by the Fey law, he must answer my question!"

Somewhere

Zora and Kat had continued in silence for a while after their encounter with Hansel. It was Kat who finally spoke again as her emerald eyes shifted to question her young friend. "Anythin'?"

Zora shook her head, indicating that she'd not been able to pick up the scent trail of any of the four they searched for. She did not volunteer the information that her nose was feeding her, however. The four scents were all around them. She could smell them on the ones they passed, both conscious and unconscious, and she could even smell them on Kat and herself. She wasn't surprised that Connor's scent was on her own body nor that Ace's was all over Kat's. What didn't make sense was why they were on everybody else's and how Connor's scent was on Kat though they'd never met before.

Their scents were not the only smells that troubled Zora. Along with Connor's, Ace's, Vang's, Captain's, and even Sebastian's scents, there was another smell that was on everybody they'd passed as well as on their own bodies. It was a scent she could not place, a smell she had never encountered before, and yet it hung heavy on the air and on each person. Zora frowned, her forehead creasing as she digested all that her nose was telling her. Something was very, very wrong. "I'm going tiger," she stated, her wild, green eyes shifting over everything in her sight but Kat.

The redhead only nodded her response, and Zora knew that the Irish woman was lost in her own thoughts. She very easily guessed that they were about Ace and would not have been surprised to know that Kat was worried that she'd never be together again with her lover, that she'd never again taste his sweet, wild taste, that she'd never again hear the amusing tinkle of his laughter, or even that the last time he'd dropped his pants would be when he'd distracted the Piratesses.

Kat shook her head. She never should have allowed Ace to drop his pants in front of those bitches, but he had been the perfect distraction. She'd been there to protect him then, and that wasn't why he wasn't here now. This was all because of that damned Demonic Elemental, Frostbite, and the little bitch that had run from him and right into their people. What was her name again? Crystal?

Kat growled as striped fur covered Zora's naked skin. She'd really like to get her hands on that little bitch. If she'd known the Elemental was after her, and that he was as powerful an evil as he was, how could she have brought him upon them? Kat felt she already knew: The bitch was a typical two-legger who only cared for her own bloody hide, and that was all there was to it. She didn't know how the woman had come to have the loyalty of a dragon, wolf, and lioness, but she'd been in for a surprise if she ever showed back up . . . She'd just better hope that Ace had made it, or Kat would take her very last breath . . .

The North Pole

No one had dared to speak as Santa Claus had dueled verbally with the only woman ever to be cast out of the North Pole. Several minutes had ticked by, and still no one had spoken a word. One particularly small Elf was even doing her best to hold in a sneeze. At last, however, the sneeze erupted, blowing her back into Dancer, who pranced away with a shake of antlers.

The scene had drawn several eyes to it, but still Santa and Crystal remained staring at each other, both set in their determination. After what seemed like an eternity, a voice spoke from behind the throng of Elves and reindeer. "It is all right, Nicholas. I will speak to her."

The gasping crowd parted to reveal a wizened old man who leaned on a cane for support. Crystal knew that the man didn't really need the cane; this image of his was all for show when he was feeling his age. When he was angry, however, hardly any one could stand up to him. The old, hunchbacked man hobbled through the crowd and came to a stop beside Santa. His eyes met hers, and in the wisdom of the ages that she could see reflected in his gaze, she hoped for an answer to one of the many questions that burned within her. "You may ask me one question, and I will answer. Then, however, you must leave."

Crystal nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

"What is your question?"

Crystal's eyes again met those of the North Wind, and she once more picked carefully over her wording. "Is it possible for another Elemental, not yourself, to take my powers, and if it is, what would have to be done in order for that to happen?"

One of the Elves piped up. "That's two questions!" He was immediately shushed by the other Elves, whose long, pointed ears were quivering with excitement and fear.

"So it is," the North Wind agreed, "but I will answer all the same. It is possible, Crystal, for such to happen, but it would be requiring of a long, detailed ritual that can only be done once every two hundred years or so."

Santa's ears and beard were twisting as his eyes shifted constantly back and forth between Crystal and the North Wind. Crys noticed the look on his face and in his eyes but ignored him as she turned her full attention, or at least as much as she could manage as her heart still cried for the loved ones she'd been forced to leave behind, back to the North Wind. "Would the Elemental whose powers are being taken have to be alive?"

The North Wind hesitated. Santa's eyes widened, and his cheeks seemed a little less rosy. The same Elf who had piped up the last time spoke again. "Hey, that's three questions now!"

"I still have the right," Crys stated.

The North Wind nodded, and Crystal saw horror reflect on her cousin's face from where he had just entered the back of the room. The North Wind never turned around, and Crys' eyes shifted swiftly back to him, but still he knew. "Go back to work, Jack." Jack disappeared, but Crystal knew he was close.

The North Wind returned his attention to Crys. "You do have the right, but this is the last question I will answer. Then you must leave."

"I will."

A heartbeat of hesitation. "What's the answer?" Crystal barely dared to breathe. Everything hinged on this one answer, on the very next word out of the North Wind's mouth . . .

"Yes. The Elemental must be alive in order for the spell to work, but the Elemental will not live through the ritual." More gasps, including one from the paled St. Nick himself, followed, but Crystal ignored them all.

"Thank you," she told the North Wind, then turned and started to head out. She had her answer now and knew what she would have to do if it came down to it. She had one last thing she could try, however, and as Santa's Elves closed in behind her, placing their backs to her, and Crystal realized that, at long last, no one was looking at her any more, she slipped off . . .

Somewhere

As Zora changed, Kat's musing mind turned to ponder Ace. Ace Ventura was certainly a mystery, a paradox she'd yet to figure out, but he was also the only man, other than her grandfather, to ever wriggle his way into her heart. She remembered now the first time she'd come face to face with him. They'd been in a pub, and she'd been minding her own business, quite rightly getting drunk on whiskey as it was the anniversary of her grandfather's passing. She realized now that she'd never found out what he'd been doing there that night -- or was it day? Regardless, he'd probably been there for a piece of ass. The guy certainly hadn't been a virgin.

She'd been getting very well lit when one of the several groups of men inside the tavern had grown even louder. They'd pissed her off, and the memory of their words as they discussed their kills still made her burn. She'd managed to refrain from making a scene until one of them had started carrying on about a beautiful buck he'd killed and then continued on to brag about the doe and fawn that he'd also bagged. That had been the final straw for Kat, and she'd thumped the tiny spark of a fireball she'd already been playing with at the hunters.

That spark had exploded into a fireball that had claimed all their lives, and as they'd been burning and the idiots in the tavern rushing about in panicked attempts to put out the fire, Kat had slipped out. She hadn't gone very far when she'd heard some one following her. She had turned, pounced on him, and had him pinned against a building before she ever got a good look at him.

She hadn't thought him to be cute at that initial meeting. In fact, he hadn't done a damn thing for her except to piss her off with that impish grin of his. She'd called him an idiot and many more things that she didn't care to remember now. What had pissed her off the most, however, had been when he'd told her that he'd seen what she had done, thought it was the neatest trick he'd ever witnessed, and asked her out. Kat sighed with regret as she'd recalled how she'd put her fist nearly straight through his skull for his remarks and informed him that she'd kill him if he ever told anybody.

She'd left him in a crumpled heap that night yet, somehow, he'd continued to pop up again and again in her life until, at long last, she'd discovered that he had been helping her out on several of her missions. Kat shook her head sadly. Typical Ace. He always acted the buffoon, yet he had the heart of a lion, with the whole animal world being his pride and she his Queen, and the courage of a mother bear protecting all the cubs of the world. And, of course, the sexual prowess of a rabbit.

Had she ever told Ace she loved him? The thought made Kat think even more seriously for several long minutes, and then she, at last, had to admit that, though she'd told him, she'd always done it at times or in ways that he wouldn't think she meant the words as deeply as she did. She hadn't wanted him to know how much she loved him, but now she couldn't help hurting at the thought that she might never get to tell him, that he might never know . . .

The familiar feel of a furry, purring body rubbing up against her ankles stopped Kat's thoughts cold. She looked down to find a ragged, tabby cat arching against her feet and purring deeply. "Captain!" she exclaimed, a smile breaking out. She picked up the tomcat and simultaneously hugged him while kissing the top of his head and checking his small, lithe body for signs of injury. Finding no serious marks, she murmured the language of cat love into his ear and kissed him again before helping him onto her shoulder. "Now if we can jest find Ace," she murmured, her smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

The tiger that stalked beside her gave a half-growl, and Kat realized that Zora must be lost in similar thoughts of Connor as she had just been of Ace. She wondered how her little sister had finally come to meet a guy who she was actually serious about. What must the boy be like to have earned such attention from Zora, who had gone through so many males and females since coming of sexual age that the mere thought alone would make Vang faint? Kat didn't know, but she hoped they'd find him alive and well and added Connor into her prayer when she mentally spoke another prayer to Bast asking for protection for Ace and Vang and assistance in finding them and their other animals and giving gratitude for reuniting her with Captain and Zora.

Somewhere

When the second blonde had at last wandered off after finishing vomiting, Roxanne had immediately returned her attention to her pets and the first blonde. The two blondes were as different as night and day in their choice of clothing -- the first wearing a low-cut dress without shoes of any kind while the injured was dressed in a simple, black outfit and boots --, and Roxanne could only hope that that difference would extend to their personalities and brains. She surely did not want to work so hard on saving this woman just to have her be as ignorant as the other one when she came around, but she also could not just leave her laying there. Had she been a male, perhaps, but as she were a female, with clearly no male to care for her that was worth his salt, it was up to Roxanne and her familiars to do so.

Now, as Sasha continued her diligent work on the blonde's injury, Roxanne waited, leaning across the blonde with her long, dark hair fallen to one side and her hands at the ready for when the bullet would pop out. Her brown eyes watched every move of Sasha's claw and paw, but her ears remained at the alert to the rest of their area. It was thus that she heard the sound of steps and sensed the stranger's arrival before he came to a stomping halt before them.

Roxanne slowly looked up from her patient, the muscles in her shoulders and back shifting like those of a big cat as she arched upwards. Her dark eyes traveled up from a pair of black boots over blue pants that fit muscular legs well. When her gaze reached the man's arms, she looked no further than his shoulder. He'd been shot in the shoulder, and blood was even now seeping through the fingers that covered the wound. "Take a seat," she told him curtly. "I'll be with you after I finish this one."

Had Roxanne not looked down but taken in the rest of the man's appearance, she would have known to be on her guard toward him. His strong jaw was set with anger, and his free hand was balled into a fist so tight that his knuckles were white. Blue eyes blazed down at the Latina from underneath wet, blonde bangs.

Roxanne had already returned her attention to her current patient when the man spoke in such a tone that her cats' spotted fur coats ruffled. Yasmine growled, and Sasha grred though not relinquishing her rapt attention on their patient. "The heck you will," the man told the females through gritted teeth. "Get your beast off my sister!"

At that, both jaguars growled, and Roxanne again looked up, her gaze even darker. She arched a brow at the blonde man, whose white face was tight with fury. "Beast?" she repeated, her low voice a contrast to her familiars' loud growls.

"You heard me!" Trent exclaimed, stepping closer to them and fighting off the dizziness that threatened to claim him.

"First of all, senor, do not call my darling Sasha a beast. They are animals, true, but no animal is more a beast than a man." Roxanne's words clipped off angrily, but her expression remained calm though tightened with her own anger. "Secondly, we are trying to help your sister . . . "

Roxanne's words broke off as Trent made a grab for the scruff of Sasha's neck. His grab was blocked by the back of Roxanne's hand. He snatched back his hand as the dark hold swirled around him. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he shook himself and struggled to regain composure. He reopened his eyes to find the Latina woman standing between him and Trina and Carlos, her jaguars surrounding Trina and growling. Trent's eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out which of the three Roxannes he saw was the real one so that he'd know which one to hit.

"Do not make me fight you." The Latina's words swirled around him and were no help in determining her position.

"Then call your beast off."

The three images of Roxanne blurred so badly that he was even unsure as to exactly how many he was seeing as she slapped him. Trent fell back from the blow even as Roxanne exclaimed, "My Sasha is no beast!"

Trent tenderly touched his cheek, and his head pounded as he glared at the three women before him. His whole body ached from the bullet wound in his shoulder and the fall he'd taken, but this woman was not going to listen to reason and he could not idly stand by and allow her animals to hurt his sister. Trent charged the three women, his fists swinging blindly as he hoped to connect with the right one . . .

Somewhere

Patience had never been one of Faith's many qualities, and as she lay on the hard, cold, stone floor, trying not to tremble and not to succumb to the pain and worry that plagued her mind, her patience grew ever shorter. What was keeping Dawson and Jack, and what had Salem so frightened to the point that he wouldn't even tell her about it? Was her boy truly all right, or was he trying to put off his own medical needs in his search to bring her a healer and save her? He'd best not be putting her before him if he was in too bad shape.

And where were the others, any way? Where was Katrina, always so quick and eager to heal, and Angel? And Lex? Had they made it through the last Hell to this new, dark place, or were they already gone? Had they never survived the attack in the first place?

If what Dawson had told her was true, and she did believe him, what had happened to her newly adopted family? If they had survived, what of their loved ones? What of Will and Clark and those damned fluff-pussed Princesses, Elizabeth and Cordelia? What about Tom and Celina and that ever-annoying Morph?

Where was Dawson? Where were Jack and Salem? As questions continued to bore on her mind, Faith grew tired of laying in wait. She had to find Dawson, Jack, and Salem and find out what was going on with them. She could hear fighting even now. That might be them, and they might need her help.

As Faith tried to move her injured leg, grunting between gritted teeth at the pain, a voice suddenly spoke just a few inches from her head. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Shut the fuck up." Faith's eyes turned toward the voice, but she could see no one. "Who the Hell are you, any way?" she demanded of the unfamiliar voice.

"A friend," the timid voice replied cautiously.

"The Hell you are! Where are you! Who are you! You better show yourself, or I'll gut ya!"

"Temper, temper . . . They said you were a hot one, but I did not expect to find a lady so hostile . . . " The voice tisked, and she could tell from the sound of it that the speaker was moving even as she snapped back.

"I ain't no damn lady! What the fuck's wrong with you men that makes ya think that everything with tits's gotta be a lady!"

"My, my, what language!"

"I'll give ya some damn language . . . " Faith abruptly stopped speaking, however, as the speaker slid into her sight. She turned her head more to the side, her cheek pressing against stone and pain echoing through every cell of her body, so that she could get a more direct look at the little fellow and make certain she was truly looking at what she thought she was looking at. Her eyes shot wide, and her mouth began to gape just as wide. "You're a damn worm!"

"That I am."

Faith couldn't believe she was talking to a worm, but she wasn't about to let her shock show. "You better shut the Hell up and get your tiny ass moving before I eat you!"

Worm gawked at the loud-mouthed brunette. "E-Eat me?" His shaking voice seemed even tinier.

"Yeah, eat ya! Where's my tequila bottle?" As Faith's eyes swept around the area as though seeking her drink, Worm hurriedly slid off. Faith knew she didn't have any tequila, though she longed for it, and had instead been seeking some sign of Dawson, Jack, or Salem. As she laid her head back down, she sighed and thought to herself, They'd better hurry. This place's getting weirder every minute, and I'm not gonna wait here much longer!

Somewhere

Words swirled around her, but her mind was too fogged to be able to translate the words or even recognize the language that was being spoken. Her mind followed the familiar voice slowly, but as she realized that it was Kurt she heard and he was praying, she followed him more swiftly. Her eyes blinked open to find the blue-furred Demon praying over her, his head bowed and his three-fingered hands clutched together. Tears glistened on his furry cheeks, and she longed to reach up and wipe them away.

She started to move to do just that but stopped when she sensed movement. Her brown eyes darted around only to find Lockheed perched on the other side of her body and looking at her in great concern. She smiled tiredly at her dragon, but before she could speak to him, Lockheed's eyes darted upwards. His head remained stationary, however, and Kitty recognized the signal instantly.

She looked up just in time to see a hand reaching out for Kurt. Lockheed acted at the same time as his mistress, flying out of the way as Shadowcat sprang to life. She leapt over Kurt and met the stranger with a flying sidekick, her foot colliding hard with his chest and knocking him backwards onto the stone floor. Kitty landed on her feet between the man and Kurt. Her hands still balled into fists, Shadowcat warily watched the cloaked man for the tell-tale sign of his next attack.

The North Pole

She could feel the magic pulsating from it before she ever got near it. Crystal paused at the last bend around the haul and slowly peeked around it. Two Elves guarded the door to the room where its powerful magic was contained. These Elves were not the ordinary, short Elves that worked for Santa but were instead two Warrior Elves from the tribe in the forest. They had been specially trained for this duty since their childhood years and had been protecting this one room since long before Crystal was born.

Crys worked swiftly, concentrating on dropping their temperatures. The guard to the left saw her first, but before he could shout, she dropped their body temperatures the rest of the way and both Elves fell out, unconscious, onto the floor. Crystal ran on silent feet, turning the doorway to ice and melting it instead of fighting with the locks that were in place over it. Her family might be filled with Pirates, but she still had a long way to go before she could pick locks with the best of them and she had no time to waste today . . . or was it night? One never could be sure at the North Pole as it was almost always dark.

It took a second for Crystal's ice to adjust to the darkness of the room, but then she headed over to the solitary table and the magical object that sat on top of it. Her hands pressed against velvet as she took hold of the object. She'd only have a second once she opened it to retrieve what she was after and then run for the very second it opened, a bright light would spill from it and its owner would know that some one else had it in their possession.

Crystal closed her eyes, breathing shallowly. She had to concentrate for this to work, and even then, she wasn't sure if it would. She only knew that she had to try every avenue she possibly could in facing her uncle for the last time. She needed something to stop him, something that would really work to defeat Frostbite once and for all, and that need was what she focused on now.

With her mind intent on her need to find a way to stop Frostbite, a tool to do him in for good, Crystal opened the bag. A golden light spilled from it, engulfing the room and pouring out into the hallway. It was so bright that it might well have blinded Crys' untrained eyes had she not had them closed. Crystal took a deep breath and focused even harder on what she sought. Then, she put both hands into the bag, pulled out the first thing she came into contact with, and closed the bag.

Crystal opened her eyes and looked down at what she now held. Her ice blue eyes widened in surprise at the object. Of all the things she might have expected to pull out of the bag, never would she have thought it to be a book! There must be a spell in here, she thought. One to finally, truly defeat him.

She turned the book over, seeking a title in its worn leather, but had barely had a chance to look at the vaguely familiar symbol on its front cover when a pair of hands snatched it out of her grasp. "This does not belong to you, Crystal."

"I need it!"

The ancient Wizard rose an eyebrow at her. "Like you need to steal and lie? Like you need to tarnish the North Pole and all those who live here with your deceit?" Santa shook his head in great sadness and sighed deeply. "I truly am disappointed in you, Crystal." His voice and expression suddenly hardened. "Now leave."

She made a grab for the book. He intended to snatch it away from her, but her fingers managed to touch its leather binding. She snatched her own back when something burned her. She looked at Santa, trying to think of something to say that could possibly convince him, but she knew nothing would and that the book was lost to her for she could not fight Father Christmas. Shaking her head, Crys turned and ran.

Santa sighed again in the now-empty room. Reopening his bag, he put the book back inside its magical confines. "Return to whence ye came." His nose twitched, and the book vanished as the lid to the bag closed.

To Be Continued . . .