A/N : Okay, so … I had originally intended this to be just a oneshot story, but obviously it wasn't meant to be. So I'm going to try for more … not exactly certain where this is going, but hang with me ;) And leave me some feedback when you're done, it'll encourage me to keep writing!

. . .

Goodfellow.

I had to find Robin.

Wasn't entirely sure why, maybe because he was the only other person to find, and crap, that puck had to have some trick up his sleeve right? He would just flash that cocky leer and say he could fix everything, right? Damn, I really had to get a grip. I was still sprawled out on the pavement – a pitifully and psychologically-messed-up jerk sitting in a puddle. I had to get moving.

First step: Get the hell off your ass.

I eased myself to my feet, my jeans and jacket suddenly feeling very heavy as they weighed me down. I knew I should change … but I didn't want to go back to the apartment. Besides, I was going to Robin's, right? Right. I would catch a taxi. I would walk across the street and wave one down and get in and give the driver the address …

But where's Niko?

My mind kept nagging at me, not letting me forget him. I was always so aware of where he was, what he was doing, and now I was all but glancing over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't standing behind me. I just couldn't convince myself that right now, I was all by myself. There wasn't even a swear-word to fit that feeling. I was alone.

Sure, I'd been alone before. I'd been so damn far away so many damn times I couldn't even count … but there was always that knowledge that Nik was out there, thinking about me, looking for me. Even after the incident with the spiders, I'd known there was someone out there. I'd felt it. Now – the world was empty.

Which is why you find Robin, I reminded myself. So I stumbled to the curb and waved down a taxi cab, talking myself through the motions of getting inside and shutting the door and giving Robin's address. And then I just sat in the backseat, nausea coiling and lurching in my stomach at every bump, eyes squeezed shut. Robin would help me. He'd been around; he'd picked things up along the way – shit, hadn't he told me often enough? There was some way out of this mess, there always was.

But where's Niko?

. . . .

I puked all over Robin's robe. And yes, it was made of silk.

I'd been hammering on his door for a full fifteen minutes, praying the bastard was home for just this one night because if he wasn't I knew I would never, ever track him down. It was after I started screaming his name like a lunatic that the door finally flung open, revealing a blinding flash of light and a blinding flash of puck, as Robin looked coldly at me and demanded icily, "Yes, Caliban?"And then I let it all out. Literally.

Ignoring his shrill shrieks of "Skata!" I clamped my hand over my mouth and went running to his bathroom to soil his probably-marble-or-gold-encrusted toilet bowl. My damp clothes clung to me as I heaved, uncomfortably cold against my skin. Any other day I would've been thrilled as hell, puking aside, that I'd managed to so skillfully ruin one of Robin's billion dollar clothing articles. Right now … I didn't much care. All I could see was Niko's face – cold, repulsed. All I could hear were Niko's words – "leave me alone". All I could feel were Niko's hands – pushing me away.

After I'd finished and just knelt there for a few minutes, Robin finally reappeared, dressed in a new, unsoiled robe. I expected him to bawl me out, but by now he'd be a complete moron if he didn't know something was insanely wrong. And much as his attitude begs to differ, the puck is not a complete moron. He stood there a moment, arms crossed, watching me as I watched the toilet. Then he said, "Where's Niko?"

I might have thrown up again. I just braced myself against the floor and whispered hoarsely, "With Promise."

"Well, then, what the hell is wrong with you?"

I shivered, stood up, flushed the toilet, and faced him. "Robin –" I was breathing hard, my voice was hitching – oh, crap, was I going to cry in front of Goodfellow? "Robin, he's gone … Promise messed him up …" I didn't cry, but damn it, I wanted to kill something. "She has friends, she did something to his mind, he didn't remember who the hell I was …"

Robin was staring at me in disbelief. "Promise?"

Yeah, okay, then I puked. Luckily I was out of range of Robin's replacement robe, but I did manage to splatter it all over his shimmering tile floor. He backed away, muttering some appeal to Zeus – or at least, a part of Zeus.

This was going to be a long night for both of us.

Eventually the heaving died down, and although Robin didn't play nursemaid he did long-sufferingly hand me a wet cloth for my face. Then I toed off my ruined shoes, threw my jacket into the sink, and followed Robin into his kitchen. He motioned suggestively toward the garbage pail but I waved him away and sank into one of his kitchen chairs. "You need to fix him," I whispered.

He sighed and said patiently, "I'm flattered by your utter hero worship, but even I can't fix somebody when I don't know what's wrong with them. What's all this about Promise? Try to string together a few coherent sentences without – er, ejecting anything."

I reached instinctively for my mala bracelet but didn't dare open my mouth to murmur the mantra. I was really going to have to get a grip. I couldn't lose my lunch every time I was reminded of Nik, because – hell, everything reminded me of Nik.

I took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and told the story. I didn't open up until I'd given Robin the last detail, and when I did all I could do was gape at the curious yet serene expression on his face. "Does this not bother you?" I exploded, tossing all my fish sticks and cartoons to the wind.

He noted my surge of emotion and put a few more feet between us just in case. "I must admit it did, for a few minutes. Now, I'm back to plotting some hideous form of revenge on you for gracing my home with your stomach fluids."

My mouth was half-open. Maybe he was a moron after all. Unless … "You can fix him?"

He looked miffed. Yeah, now the hero worship was welcome. "Please. I am the master of hypnosis, Caliban. I have thousands more years experience than any friend a mere vampire can dig up."

It felt like the world lifted itself off my shoulders. I collapsed against the back of the chair and dropped my head back, saying softly, "Yes. Yes. Okay," this being not one of my most eloquent moments.

"But of course … in order to do anything we'll have to get a hold of Niko. And he'll have to be … relaxed." He trailed off, and for a moment I thought the bastard was indulging in some dirty imageries, until he finally announced, leaning back against his countertop. "This could be more difficult than I figured. What are we going to do with Promise?"

Promise.

I saw her moonlike, mocking violet eyes and could feel the familiar twist of murderous vengeance in my gut. "Promise," I whispered, mouth curling in a dark smile. "I'm going to kill her."

Goodfellow was not impressed. "Shouldn't we let Niko be the judge of that?"

"She's dangerous, Robin," I shot back, annoyed. "If Nik gets all saintly and forgiving on her, then she'll never stop hating me, and she'll always be on our backs."

When I looked back at him, Robin's face was more sober. "If this is the case, Niko would not risk it. He will be rid of her."

"Well then," I said, pushing myself abruptly out of my chair. "I'll just save him the trouble."

He raised an eyebrow and said in mock sympathy, "I'm so glad these happy thoughts of blood and violence have made you feel well again."

"I need weapons."

He nodded to the next room. "You know where they are."

As I picked out slick, double-bladed knives and nice big guns for blowing vampire brains out with, I heard Goodfellow from the kitchen – "One thing that puzzles me. Knowing you, how could Promise sanely put herself in jeopardy by letting you live?"

"She was taking revenge," I said back, running my thumb over the blade of a katana and feeling my heart ache. "But that's over now. She'll get smart and send some more 'friends' to my apartment. I can't go back there." Suddenly my spine went stiff as I bolted upright. Hot damn. Holy crap. Why had I been such a complete idiot? Promise wouldn't just send her friends to my apartment … Promise knew where I would go …

There was silence in the kitchen. Apparently I wasn't the only one entertaining these thoughts. "Robin?" I called, a gun clamped in one hand and a blade in the other. With these weapons, with this familiar alertness, I felt much more ready. "Robin." I rounded the corner and stepped back into the kitchen to find Goodfellow backed up near his fridge, sword in hand. Kin Wolves stood at the other end of the room, in a silent group, sporting both manmade weapons as well as the genetic ones on their fingers and in their mouths. And there were about … thirty of them.

Did I really think this was going to be easy?