This took way longer than it should have. Rest assured I am inwardly kicking myself.

Europe was awesome, if not exhausting. I swear that was the most American vacation I've ever taken. We didn't stay in the same country for over a week, and we went to, like, three different places in Italy. The weather in Germany sucked beans, but other than that it was nice and sunny (except that one day it was thundering in Paris). I wrote a bunchof Fang and a little Iggy/Angel by hand, but I really didn't have much time for writing, unfortunately. I think I'll put out another chapter tomorrow, and maybe the next day, too, the make it up to you. FORGIVE ME!

MAX
Naruto
Sunagakure

"Cage?" Naruto gawked. "You lived in a cage?"

I laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, it's a funny story, actually…"

We were now standing in front of a large building labeled with incomprehensible squiggly lines.

"Is this it?" I asked.

"Are you going to tell me the funny story?" he pressed.

"No. Is this it?"

"Yes. Oh, come on!"

"No. Let's just get this over with."

"Please! Oh, and I'm sure it will all be fine."

"No! And I don't need reassurance from you."

"Please tell me?"

"Piss off, loser!" I snapped, and he looked exponentially more hurt than one should after being called a loser by a complete stranger, especially when said complete stranger has a knack for insulting everyone she meets at a rate of at least 50 IPH (Insults Per Hour). In fact, the look he gave me was so hurt (okay, it wasn't that hurt, but it was still too hurt) that I almost felt bad. Ha! Just kidding. Maximum Ride doesn't feel guilt. She's like Chuck Norris in that way. And several other ways, too.

…woah, am I talking about myself in third person? That on top of all the traumatizing experiences and the voice in my head, I think I should probably check myself into a mental hospital.

"Let's just go in," I said testily. "Move it or lose it, blondie."

"No, don't run away!" he dashed after me as I stomped into the courthouse.

In the reception room, there was yet another desk, with yet another man at it. I stepped up to it and glared down at him.

"Yes?" he peered at me through his glasses.

"I'm here to be tried for no apparent reason," I growled. He stared, and started to shrink away.

"Er… what's your name?" he asked.

"Maximum Ride," I said slowly and clearly, wondering how the heck they'd set this whole law-trial thing up so fast.

"I feel like I should be doing the talking," Naruto grumbled. "You're the criminal, after all."

"Um, yes, I have you down here," said the man. "Your trial will be held in courtroom six in about three hours. You are required by village law to remain in the vicinity during the waiting period - "

That was it. That, right there. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I knew right then and there that I would never become a jedi, because I would never control my intensely smoldering hate. Pissed-offness swelled up inside me and busted out every freaking pore.

Maximum, don't – the Voice began to warn. But he didn't have much to be afraid of. I'm not really a shouter. I prefer cool, calm, and piss-your-pants-scary outbursts.

"Yes," I said in a false sweet voice. There was a mixture of ice and fire underneath it. "I would love to stay in this gorgeous waiting room and await my no doubt unfair trial that will be executed by a bunch of fascists. Because, you know, laying down the law always works with me. That is my favorite thing to do!"

You, my dear charge, are an imbecile, said the Voice.

"Shut up before I rip you out of my brain and feed you to a Blast-Ended Skrewt," I smiled brightly.

"P-pardon?" asked the man at the desk, now looking thoroughly terrified.

I snarled at him. "Up yours, four-eyes!"

I spun on my heel and made for the exit.

FANG
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Sunnydale

"I still think you're lying about the Lord of the Rings. That would just be too good to be true – not that I care about that kind of stuff," he said quickly. "So dorky."

Buffy rolled her eyes.

About two hours later Xander and Dawn set out for the wilds of Sunnydale High. Ten minutes later, Tara and Willow were gone for their college classes. Apparently, the idea of staying in dorms had been ditched. There was an extra room in the house (no one mentioned who it had previously belonged to) and since Willow and Tara were a couple anyways, they decided to share said room to help Buffy take care of Dawn (Fang was beginning to think there was an orphan situation going on here).

With everyone else gone, Buffy rounded on her winged guest.

"Giles time," she said.

"Pardon?"

"We're going to The Magic Box," said Buffy. "To consult Giles. I mentioned him, right? Resident demon-and-all-else-evil expert? And we're walking, since I can't drive."

Fang was about to remind her of his flying abilities, but remembered that it was broad daylight over a bustling small town in California, the state where viral media was invented, not to mention horribly perfected. He couldn't just whip it out (his wings, of course. What did you think it meant, pervert?) in public, he'd be headline news before you could say 'no one reads newspapers anymore'.

Also, he had no clue where this 'magic box' was.

So he allowed Buffy to lea him through Sunny D. She turned it into a bit of a tour to keep the awkwardness away.

"And see there, that's the fifth graveyard ever built in this town. Hit overflow in '78. The eighth one is still accepting new corpses, though… oh! Okay, now we're in town town. There's the Bronze, down that alley. Huge center for demon activity. Nightclub, you know? Vamps are pretty clubby. And down there used to be this costume shop, and everyone who wore something from it one Halloween actually turned into what they were dressed as. That was one crazy gig. Oh, here we are!"

They had arrived in front of a blue building. The sign proclaimed 'The Magic Box'.

"Giles owns it. It's a magic store. But a real magic store, not that fake kiddy crap. C'mon."

A magic store? What did it stock, flying carpets? Eye of Newt? Fang was beginning to wonder who this Giles guy was. He picture a cloaked, dark figure in the red, shadowed light of a creepy alleyway, glowering secretively.

"Hey, Giles. This is Fang."

The man at the desk looked up from the cash register. He was not dark, or cloaked, or glowering, or in fact intimidating in any way, shape, or form. He was middle aged, with greying and receding hair, glasses, and a tweed jacket that was just so proper and professor-like, Fang could tell he was British before he even opened his mouth.

"Oh, hello Buffy. And, er, Fang. One moment, please, I'm waiting for Anya to come in, she's late again, then we can talk," he said in a – surprise surprise – upper-class British accent.

"That's cool," said Buffy. "For once it's not life-or-death."

Fang's eyes wandered across the shelves and he found he was not at all far off with his eye of newt theory. There was a display case of crystal balls and grotesque skulls. On the table next to him were candles with strange labels he wouldn't ever have dreamed of associating with scented candles. Goat Earwax? Mixed Bird Dung? Oxygen? He could imagine gifting one of those to Max. 'Hi, honey, I bought you a scented candle! Blood of Your Enemies! Isn't that great?'

Not far away were jars stuffed with rattle snake rattles, rat tails (and we're not talking the hairstyle here), orangutan livers, chimera hearts – you name it. And people were actually buying stuff. Several customers milled around, examining spell books or Venus' All-Predator Fly Traps (legit giant plants growing in a corner flower pot that snapped at anyone who came too close).

"Used for spells, mostly. Ingredients, I guess," Buffy intoned, seeing his bemused look. "I'm not really a magicky person, to be honest."

"It's kind of cool, actually," he said slowly. "In a Harry Potter kind of way." And then, because he couldn't resist –"book seven, by the way – I cried."

Buffy looked confused, and opened her mouth to request clarification, but she was interrupted as a person burst through the door.

"Sorry I'm late! There wasn't any traffic, I just didn't want to get out of bed."

IGGY AND ANGEL
Avatar: the Last Airbender
Full Moon Bay

"Great!" said Katara. "We can travel through the Serpent's Pass together!"

"The Serpent's Pass?" Ying clapped a hand over her mouth. "Only the truly desperate take that deadly route!"

There was a moment of silence, and then Toph grinned. "Deadly route!" Her fist snapped out and practically knocked Sokka over. "Great pick, Sokka!"

"Yeah, right, like the ladies dig Mohawk-ponytails. No way."

"If you don't shut up right now, so help me I will - "

"Ssh! Sokka!"

"Me? The stupid dog hasn't clammed up in hours, and it's me you're shushing?"

"Who're you calling a stupid dog?"

Refer to the above for a typical conversation (held in a whisper of course) while team Avatar (and guests) travelled in the presence of Lady, Man, and Prego-chick (a creative name Iggy had come up with for their new travel-mates). They had decided, as a group, to conceal both the wings and the talking dog as long as they were around said Lady, man and Prego-chick. Seeing as Total had wings as well, and his little doggy vest had mysteriously vanished, they had resorted to cramming him in Sokka's backpack and letting him out only to eat and piss.

As one could imagine, this resulted in a very cramped, harassed, annoyed, and therefore slightly psychotic doggy.

"Chill, people," Toph said, in that voice that screamed I-would-be-rolling-my-eyes-right-now-if-I-knew-how-to. "We're almost there. I can feel it."

On the advice of Lady, Man, and Prego-chick they'd decided to head for Full Moon Bay, a hidden ferry port for refugees trying to make it to Ba Sing Se. Apparently it was somewhat of a safe haven, and the Fire Nation had no idea it existed.

"You can feel it in your bones?" Total asked in a mock old lady voice.

"No, I can feel it in my feet."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

They were interrupted by a shout from up ahead.

"There it is, slowpokes!" Angel called. "Hurry up."

Full Moon Bay was bustling with activity. Hundreds of refugees milled around, varying dramatically in age, appearance, and personal hygiene standards. It was quiet, though, very quiet. Instead of sound echoing off the cavernous walls, it seemed to be muffled and strangled. There were tents set up where tired looking-mothers spooned gruel into their children's mouths and rickety old men sat in chairs, staring at the spot where a fire should have been.

"Talk about sucks to suck," Iggy commented.

"So much unhappiness," Angel cocked her head and blinked twice. Sad, yet hopeful thoughts were flying in from every direction, making her headache even more massive. She hastily shut everything off as best she could.

"I can't believe so many people have been affected by this war," Katara's eyes were vaguely saucer-shaped.

"We're all just looking for a little peace, safe behind the walls of Ba Sing Se," said the Man part of Lady, Man, and Prego-chick.

"Oh, man," Toph pouted. "This stinks."

"I actually don't think it smells that bad, considering," Sokka commented.

"No, that stinks," she pointed forward and to her right, but her eyes stayed pointed slightly downwards.

Angel followed the line of Toph's fingers and saw –

"Oh no," she moaned. "Look at the size of that thing?"

"What? The size of what?" Iggy demanded.

"A line. A massive, long line," Angel explained. To everyone's surprise, Iggy grinned maniacally.

"Haha! Well, seeing as we have so long to wait, we may as well start singing now!"

"Singing? What? Oh, wait, no - "

But it was too late.

By the time they were halfway through the line, Iggy had made it down to thirty-seven bottles of beer on the wall and Aang had joined in. Total piped up during some of the verses from the safety of Sokka's backpack, just to freak Lady, Man, and Prego-chick out. They spent many a frantic minute trying to figure out where the third disembodied voice was coming from.

Angel had tuned them out. Katara, it seemed, was trying to as well, but every once in a while she would cast a murderous look at Iggy and the Avatar. Toph had ditched them twenty verses ago and was now passing the time by playing some sort of earthbending soccer, except the soccer ball was a massive boulder. Sokka, on the other hand, looked ready to either commit suicide or go completely off the deep end and murder half the people in the entire cavern. All in all, everyone was at least a little relieved when it only took until negative twenty six bottles of beer on the wall to get to the front of the line. Or at least, Angel was relieved. She remembered once when Iggy and Gazzy had gotten to negative four hundred thirty eight bottles of beer on the wall before Max locked them in separate rooms, banned them from junk food for two weeks, and took away their entire stores of nitroglycerine. They had more nitroglycerine than should be considered healthy for a six and twelve year old to own. Not that it's healthy for six and twelve year olds to own nitroglycerine at all.

…Angel wasn't sure if that was a reason to miss Gazzy or be glad he wasn't there.

NUDGE AND THE GASMAN
Harry Potter
Malfoy Manor

"You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you."

"It isn't! It isn't me!" Hermione squeaked, terrified, but Nudge could tell it wouldn't convince anyone.

" '…known to be traveling with Harry Potter,'" Greyback repeated into the silence. A feral grin crept across his gnarled, stubbly face. "Well, this changes things, doesn't it?"

As they Dissaparated, Gazzy squeezed his eyes shut. He clamped his fingers even more tightly around Nudge's. The awful feeling of being flipped inside out and shoved through a bendy straw threatened to make him vomit, but he valiantly held back his dinner.

His feet slammed into solid ground and he jolted backwards, colliding with others in the circle of prisoners. His eyes blinked open. If he twisted around he could see that they were standing on a country lane at the foot of a long driveway. Looming at the end of said driveway was a massive manor house, protected by wrought-iron gates. He looked forwards again to stop the kink forming in his neck.

Where are we? He thought dizzily, and then his mind backtracked. 'I haven't got – they say he's using the Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take the boy there.' That's what Greyback had said.

Who was 'he'? Voldemort, maybe, or someone else? And who were the Malfoys?

There was a rattling sound from behind him and he knew someone was shaking the gates. "How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback, I can't – blimey!"

This Gazzy had to see. He turned his head again and saw that the iron was moving, twisting and curling itself into a head. The mouth moved and a screeching, shaking, voice echoed out.

"State your purpose!"

"We've got Potter!" Greyback snarled. "We've captured Harry Potter!"

There was a moan and the gates swung slowly open. The Gasman looked forward again.

"Come on!" Greyback ordered. The prisoners began shuffling their feet in order to travel forward – or in Gazzy's position, backwards – towards the manor. Gravel shifted under his feet, threatening to slide him off balance. He was concentrating almost too hard to notice an albino peacock strutting into view. He'd seen pictures of albino peacocks on the internet – Angel had gone through a phase where she was totally obsessed with peacocks and wanted one as a pet – and he had to admit, they were really cool. It looked like a giant snowflake, a beacon of light standing against the gaunt, grey estate.

It was unnatural.

There was the sound of knocking and a door was thrown open. Yellow torchlight illuminated the doorstep.

"What is this?" it was a woman's voice, cold and measured.

"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" said Greyback.

"Who are you?" asked the woman.

"You know me!" Greyback snarled. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter!"

The entire circle of prisoners was jolted to the right as Greyback dragged Harry to the front.

"I know 'e's swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im!" said Scabior. Gazzy tried to place his accent. It was like a mix between Scottish, very lower-class English, and cockney, with a bit of Australian thrown in for good measure. He was already memorizing the patterns. It would be fun to try and imitate Scabior. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl? The Mudblood who's been traveling around with 'im, ma'am. There's no doubt it's 'im, and we've got 'is wand as well! 'Ere, ma'am - "

A wand changed possession. There was a pause.

"Bring them in," said the woman.