I arrived in Al's kitchen with a minimum of fuss. Bis was getting better at hearing the right lines, and we'd been this way often enough that we were nearly on auto-pilot for the trip. I brushed the errant flakes of snow out of my frizzy mass of hair, noting that the place always looked exactly the same since the cleanup of the mess Al's fight with Ku'Sox had made. Of all the things that I never saw again, the menacing tapestry had to have been the thing I was most glad of. I scanned the room for Al so I could lay into him right away. As I looked, my eyes lit on Pierce's visage and I had to bite back a growl of annoyance.

He wore his customary printed shirt and vest with a chain for a watch hanging from the vest pocket, his hair combed back and his shoes neatly polished. He looked like nothing so much as a glorified butler with his hands held behind his back. "Mistress Witch, I am pleased to see you looking so well. When you collapsed, I had feared for the worst." It looked like Pierce, and sounded like him, but I wasn't buying it.

"Knock it off, Al. I'm not playing this game today." I crossed my arms over my middle and canted a hip to the side. As much as I liked to play with my disguises, I couldn't work up a really good intimidating stance without my kick-ass boots and leather pants. Bis uncurled from my shoulder and stalked off to lurk in the shadows over his favorite book case. My mood must have infected him somewhat, because he was taking on the fluid grace of a predator and he pulled his most menacing face as he found his perch, his tail swishing agitatedly.

"The demon is not at home," Pierce blinked in confusion. "He had some business to attend and had me wait here to give you his regrets that he could not be in attendance. He left a list of instructions for you." He gestured with the list, a slip of parchment yellowing with age.

I kept a wary distance between us and squinted at him. I felt for sure that, rested, I'd be able to see through his lies. "Fool me once, shame on you," I told him, leaving the rest unsaid. "Leave the instructions on the table and go do whatever it is you do when you're not around."

He sighed and placed the list he'd been holding on the table. "Mistress Witch, I am… I have powerful regrets for my part in the bad business of your banishment."

"I know," I said, skirting his reach. I turned to fiddle with the list but kept him in my peripheral vision.

"I thought we had gotten past it," he pressed on, hurt evident in his tone.

"Oh, don't worry Pierce," I bit out. "That's all water under the troll bridge."

"I must say, then, that I am perplexed by your coldness toward me. Have I done else wrong?"

"If you are who you appear to be, then I'm not mad at you. If, however, you are really Al, yanking my chain again, then I have only one thing to say to you. Do it again, and Newt won't have to carry through on her threat. I'll do it myself."

"I know not of what you speak, but I will be sure to send the message along. Whatever it is, it sounds dire, and my heart would know naught but joy should dire things befall my gaoler."

"Great. So we're agreed, then. I'll read the list and get started and you'll leave me to it."

"I have been instructed not to leave you here alone. The demon was adamant about that. You are not entirely safe here, should another demon come calling without one of us here to help you protect yourself. At the very least, there is strength in numbers."

"Fine. Just keep your distance."

Pierce raised his hands slightly, looking at them as if he had no idea what to do with them, before giving up and dropping them to his sides. "As you wish," he said finally, shaking his head with sadness. "Just know that I will always cherish the time we spend together, whether you are avoiding me or not."

"It's a nice thought, Pierce. Hold on to it until Al gets back." I knew I was being cruel, but I was falling into the old adage of 'once bitten, twice shy.' I didn't particularly like the feeling of having my emotions messed with through pretense and costume. I wanted to be sure it was really Pierce talking to me before I let him any where near me. I busied myself with reading the list while the other half of my brain was watching for any Al-like behavior from my glorified babysitter.

The first thing he wanted me to do was prep another three batches of disguise spells and leave them to the side until we could decide on the disguises themselves. I felt a little put off that he'd want to have a say in what I chose to look like, but since I wasn't sure if Al was Pierce, I thought it best not to tick him off on the second day on the job. So I prepped the uninvoked potion and bottled it as instructed, using the half-hour simmer time to study the book on Latin, also as instructed.

Pierce spent the time dusting shelves and randomly puttering about. He engaged Bis in a low conversation while he dusted that shelf, and little by little, my gargoyle relaxed enough to become animated and friendly. I paid close attention to the interaction, noting that my gargoyle's seal of approval was a very good sign. Still, I wasn't quite sure.

About the time my potion was ready, Pierce pulled out a box from beneath the counter and placed it on top of the table. I cleaned up my work station and watched him with interest. It was a fairly nondescript box, as far as boxes went. Wood, most likely, with a hinged lid, slightly larger than a breadbox. He opened the box and white mist came pouring out, like dry ice in Halloween cauldrons. From within the box, he lifted out the bag of shrimp that Al and I had purchased from the grocery store the night before, a block of cheese, a bottle of white wine, and a stick of butter. The box seemed too small to hold all that. In curiosity, I rounded the counter to look inside.

He closed the lid before I got the chance and carried it back to put it under the counter. "What is it?" I asked, longing to take the box back from him and get a look.

"It is a spelled box. It links to the cold room where the demon keeps his food," he replied with studied nonchalance. "He made it so that I could retrieve the items needed to prepare our supper without leaving this room. After my first escape from my shackle, he took away my ability to move between rooms without his sending me specifically. He said that he had gotten weary of the need to send me to the cold room whenever he desired a sandwich."

"It's neat," I said, feeling suddenly sorry for the crap Pierce had to put up with daily. "Would you like some help making dinner?"

"As much as I would love to cook with you, you have other things that you must attend. I swan I can complete the meal on my own, although I appreciate the offer."

"Pierce… I'm sorry. It's just that Al had used your appearance the other night to make me think that he was you. I'm not mad at you."

"Rachel, what did he do to you?" he asked, turning to regard me with compassion in his eyes. Compassion turned to flinty steel as he contemplated all that Al could have done with his form. "If he touched you…"

"He kissed me. That was all." He turned brick red at my pronouncement and I raised a hand to forestall any tirade he might have undertaken. "I think he might have done it to keep me away from you, to make me doubt whether I was dealing with him or not. After my reaction today, I can't say it didn't work."

"That demon's manipulative nature knows no bounds," he seethed, turning to grip the countertop behind him.

I went to him, to lay a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. "It's ok, now. I'm certain who I'm dealing with, here. I'm just sorry for being such a bitch to you earlier. You don't deserve me taking my bad moods out on you."

"Mistress Witch, that language is unbecoming a lady," he scolded lightly, though he had to have gotten used to my potty mouth by then. It seemed like he was just acting out of habit.

"Sorry," I said. "I'd still like to help with dinner."

"It is but a little thing," he replied to my apology. "I have gotten quite good at the culinary aspect of my imprisonment here. It is one task that I do enjoy. Please, complete your list or your teacher shall be quite cross with the both of us." He turned from his tense pose at the counter and gave me a half smile.

"Right. Still friends?" I asked, wanting him to be sure of where I stood, despite what had come between us before. I smiled brightly, hoping that I hadn't hurt him yet again.

He sighed, getting the hint, and smiled ruefully back at me. "I am honored to be called a friend."

"Good. Don't let me keep you from your favorite chore. I'll be over there… conjugating or whatever." I waived a hand in a nervous gesture and went to hide in my comfy chair behind my Latin book like a coward. I watched surreptitiously while Pierce pulled out the bunsen burner rig and set about frying up the shrimp with white wine and butter. I tried to concentrate on my Latin, I really did, but my thoughts were spinning off into so many directions that studying a dead language was shunted off to the side more than once. What was I going to say to Al? The kiss had been one of the best that I could think of at the moment, but perhaps it had all been just a ruse to manipulate me into doing whatever Al wanted. For all my anger at being tricked, I hand't ever really contemplated how I felt about being kissed. By Al. I had been blindsided, that much was true, and totally thrown off my game. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a niggling voice spoke out.

My reactions had stemmed largely from the way I thought I should react. Since I had determined not to worry about what I should be doing, but rather what I wanted and needed to be doing, I had to figure out why I thought that I should act that way. The first thing I had to admit to myself was that I was ashamed. I was acting like the popular girl who had kissed a nerd. I knew my friends did not approve of Al (having been threatened or abused by him on one occasion or another) so, since I wanted their approval, I acted all high and mighty and royally pissed that he'd tricked me into it. Another part of me hated feeling like a fool. A much larger part of me really hated being manipulated. Rather than go off on a tirade the first time I set eyes on him, giving him the reaction he expected, I needed to take some of the control back from him. The only way to do that was to act in a way he didn't expect. I needed to be cool about this. I had to learn to play this game and find out why he did what he did, instead of letting my emotions get the better of me.

I gave up the Latin study as a bad job. The smell of shrimp scampi was enough to get my mind off of everything else beyond getting those succulent little things into my belly. If I had any lingering doubts as to whether Pierce was himself, his ability with the cooking spoke of long practice in the kitchen, not momentary pretense. "That smells amazing, Pierce," I said, dropping my book into the chair as I got up.

"I have yet to make the pasta," he chided warmly. "You should continue at your studies until the meal is complete."

"I can't concentrate on Latin right now."

"Then you should start on the next task on your list."

"Yes, mother," I grumped. "Bis?"

"Yes, Ms Morgan?" Bis perked right up on his perch.

"We're supposed to do this next part together," I informed him.

Bis slithered from the high shelf and dropped the rest of the way to the floor. "How can I help?"

"Well," I began as I looked over the list once more, "we're to try to bring our consciousnesses into greater alignment so that you and I can get better at jumping the lines to anywhere at will. Al left us with a book title and page number for reference, so I suppose I ought to find that, first."

Al's cataloguing system left a lot to be desired. He didn't use any sort of shelving order as much as I could tell. He tended to group the books by age and appearance rather than by title, author, or subject matter. Dinner was done before I ever found the right volume and as Pierce was busy cooking, I thought it best to leave him to it rather than ask for his assistance. Pierce laid out plates and silverware and Bis and I resolved to find the book after we had eaten. Figuring it wouldn't hurt our chances in the slightest at 'bringing our consciousnesses into greater alignment', I had Bis sit on my lap while Pierce served up the plates of food. I traced the lines in my mind while I waited.

I felt a tingle go up my spine shortly before Al arrived. I knew he was coming before I ever saw the shimmer in the air where he would appear. "That's just too freaky," I whispered to Bis. "Is it like that all of the time with you?"

As Al began taking form, Bis nodded. "I like it. I like knowing what's coming before it happens."

"Very handy," I agreed.

"Ah," Al said as he finished materializing. "I see I made it back just in time for dinner." He approached the table and sat just as Pierce finished dishing out another plate of food. He set it before Al, who whipped out his napkin and placed it on his lap. Pierce made another place setting for himself and covered what was left as Al rolled a hand through the steam coming off his plate, savoring the smell. "I must say that you have outdone yourself this time, my familiar." Al seemed to be in a great mood. He usually bit into Pierce with the insults first thing. I said nothing and waited for Pierce to sit before I lifted my fork toward my plate.

Since Al didn't tell Pierce to go away and was letting him eat with us, I figured he was in an even better mood than I had thought. I really hoped it had nothing to do with our kiss, because I was going to burst that little bubble of happiness as soon as the meal was over. Pierce looked like he needed the calories, so I held my piece until he'd gotten a chance to consume as much as he wanted so Al wouldn't send him to bed without his supper.

I twirled linguini around my fork and speared a couple of the shrimps on the end. I got in maybe two bites before Al spoke again. "So, how did your independent studies go, my student? Did you get very far?" I dropped my fork and stared for a moment. Al's nonchalant attitude was really starting to wear. The fact that he inquired about my progress, like it was just a normal day in a normal situation made my blood nearly boil. Before I could open my mouth and say something inflammatory, I took a deep breath and willed myself calm.

"I prepped the base of the disguise curse, spent some time on my Latin studies and was hunting for the book you referenced for working with Bis."

"The burner's out on the counter. Did you not float the flame like we worked on?" he inquired, twirling linguini like the answer really didn't matter. I heard no threat in his tone, nor did it sound like he would be disappointed or happy, one way or the other.

"The burner was for Pierce. He used it to cook the food. I floated the flame just as we practiced. It only added a couple of minutes to the prep time."

"Hmm. Well, I had hoped you would have made more progress. Your attunement with your gargoyle will have to wait. I've just been to see about the new construction. Tron still wants that car you agreed on, and though your untimely demise put a bit of a cabosh on all the new plans, he's ready to go ahead with them whenever you are. I figured there was no time like the present. You wouldn't want to spend a thousand years in a bottle over a silly little arrangement between equals, believe me."

"My agreement with… oh. I remember. We made that deal right after I woke up from making that first Tulpa." Al nodded, still eating and looking anywhere but at me. "Last time I made one, I woke up three days later in your kitchen. If I make one tonight, that will mean that I won't get my weekend. Can't this wait until Monday? Unless you like cleaning me up when I crap myself."

"Nonsense. Item construction on this level should barely make you yawn."

"I haven't had enough practice to say that for sure," I argued. "I fainted after our last lesson, Al."

"You seemed fine to me," he said with a decidedly casual air.

"This was after I got summoned out of the kitchen." I wasn't even remotely ready to broach the topic of what had occurred between his kitchen and leaving mine.

"Interesting," he said smoothly. "I haven't given you a quarter of the training you're yet to receive and you're already giving in to magical fatigue."

"Don't patronize me, Al. Ceri said that it was perfectly normal and I'm not about to let you goad me into doing something rash like biting off more than I can chew right now."

"It's only that, being a demoness, you should have a larger capacity for working with energy than that of a garden variety familiar. Perhaps I had overestimated your capabilities."

"Considering I spent the first half of my life barely able to stand up for more than five minutes at a time, I'd say my capabilities are pretty great!" I stood and slapped my hands to the table as I leaned over and glowered at him.

"Sit down, Rachel, and eat your food. The runt went to all the trouble of preparing it. It's rude to let it go to waste," he said, boredom leaking from every pore.

"Oh, hell. Fine. I'll do the job if you promise I get to sleep in my own bed once it's over. I spent the morning at Trent's and had to beg a ride. I wasn't happy about it, either. One more morning like that and I'm going to Newt about breach of contract."

"Relax, Itchy Witch. After this gig, it won't even be an issue."

The rest of the meal passed by in an uneasy silence. I held my tongue to keep Al from taking anything out on Pierce, and Pierce, for his part, was doing the same. Al seemed merely content to eat his food and plan and plot in the confines of his own thoughts. If I were to look up 'poker face' in the dictionary, I was relatively sure I'd find Al's picture underneath.

Cleanup was also a silent affair. Plates and pans disappeared along with Pierce to places unseen. I wondered exactly how many rooms Al still had access to, considering his propensity for sending Pierce and other things off to said places. "Bis, go to the library," Al commanded. "Treble is waiting for you there."

"I thought you lost the library," I muttered, mostly to myself.

"I got it back. It was a little thing. Newt held onto it for me for when I could pay her what it was worth."

"So whose life, exactly, paid the price of your old room?" I glared at him, foot tapping.

"No one's," he blinked in surprise. "She traded the tape measurer for it."

I sighed, rarely if ever understanding the price demons put on things. Bis looked up at me from my lap with luminous, sad eyes. "Better do as he says. I'm sure you'll learn a lot from Treble."

"I don't like her. She's mean."

"Well, you try being Al's gargoyle for hundreds of years and see what kind of temperament you end up with," I whispered down to him.

"I'd rather be yours," he said with earnest eyes and I gave his scaly hide a soft hug.

"I'd rather that, too. Now, go on. Learn something and make me proud." Bis nodded and hopped down from my lap. Once on the floor, he began shifting from the size of a house cat to a full-grown doberman. I didn't think Treble would be that impressed, considering all gargoyles could change their size at will, but I didn't mention the thought. If it made Bis feel better about himself, then I wasn't going to disillusion him. He gave his tail one last irritated flick in Al's direction and was gone.

"Alone at last," Al said, the corner of his aristocratic lips quirking up at the side. "I must say, I admired your forbearance earlier. I was anticipating hysterics of some sort or another, considering our last encounter."

I regarded him for a moment, trying to keep my face blank as I searched furiously for the words that wouldn't make me sound like a harpy, a child, or a raving madwoman in an instant. After a few heartbeats, his smirk fell away and he was regarding me with a blank expression to match my own. In the end, I decided on the direct approach. "Why did you kiss me?"

He made a tsking sound in the back of his throat and looked away for a moment. When his goat-slitted eyes met mine again, they were filled with annoyance. "That's it? That's your big question?"

"Well, I figured it wasn't because you wanted to go steady," I said levelly. "As a matter of fact, I can think of several reasons why you would do such a thing, including but not limited to driving me insane. I just wondered if I could trust you to be up-front and honest with me for even a moment." My toe was tapping once more in agitation and I made a concentrated effort to still the hell out of it.

"God, Rachel. Is it too unfathomable to think that someone of the male persuasion might just want to kiss you? Is your self-esteem so low that you must read other motives into it, to make it make sense?"

"Oh, come on. Save the incredulous act for someone who has no idea who you are. If you just HAD to kiss me, why do it as Pierce? Why the pretense? Why the lies?"

"Well, what if I wanted you to kiss me back? What if I thought that was the only way you would?"

"On to the hypotheticals, eh? For God's sake, Al!"

"Well, why don't you tell me why you thought I did it and I can laugh at you." He blinked rapidly, as if nervous or agitated. I could be relatively sure that it was all an act and that I needed to do something to shake his inner calm.

I knew just the thing, but I wasn't ready to employ it yet. I decided to play the game a little longer, to see just how deep a hole he wanted to dig before I employed my master plan. "Well, you might have done it to keep me from sleeping with Pierce when you left us alone together today, after Newt said he was ok to be on my menu."

"That was one reason," he conceded. "Go on."

"But that's assuming that you care whether or not I decide to take that into consideration. Either you're jealous of who I sleep with, or you want to make Pierce as miserable as possible and me giving it to him doesn't figure into the plan." I began pacing, as if the conundrum bothered me beyond belief. Although it bothered me, the idea of Al wanting to kiss me just to do so was scarier than any master plan of manipulation he might be cooking up.

"I do so enjoy making his life a misery. He is mine. I own him. If I want him to be miserable, he will be."

"But why, Al? What did he ever do to you, besides trying to kill you and almost getting me dead, as well… never mind. I guess you have enough reason, even without the fact that he and I did the horizontal tango once." I watched him carefully from the corner of my eye so as not to miss his reaction to my pronouncement. I wasn't disappointed. He visibly flinched. I continued on as if I hadn't seen. "I had to admit, you had me going there for a while. You had his puppy-dog eyes to a tee. I almost believed it, but you slipped up so badly, you had to have done it on purpose. When I saw him standing here, I almost decked him, thinking he was you. I talked to Ceri when I woke up today. I gained some valuable insights into your motives from that conversation. You obviously wanted me to know that you were the one who was kissing me."

"Well, obviously. Couldn't have you falling into his arms without me around to stop it."

"Ah, well that makes sense." I halted in my pacing, turning at last to face my him. Al. My attacker. My tormentor. My nemesis. The thing that waited under my bed for so long that fear was a knee-jerk reaction. My captor, my teacher, my protector. Ceri might have formed a sort of twisted attachment to him, a kind of Stockholm syndrome, but I had no excuses to give. I simply didn't hate him any more. I stared at the bench situated around the central fire, remembering waking there after having my soul laid bare to his eyes. I remembered how he agonized over how fragile I was, how vulnerable. A year ago, he would have taken full advantage of any vulnerability of mine and flaunted it, reveled in it. Now, he tried to save me from things that went bump in the night, forgetting that he used to be one of those things to me. What exactly was he trying to protect me from? I lifted my eyes to his with deadly seriousness. "It makes sense as long as I take into account the idea that you were lying to me."

He seemed to cower under my gaze, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. How much of it was real? How much was an act? Was it some deep game he was playing with my psyche, or was this simply him, trying not to want me? Did he kiss me out of love or did he kiss me out of hate?

I could think of only one way to find out. Steeling my resolve, I clenched my hands into fists and told myself that whatever the outcome, nothing would ever be the same between us. "Were you lying, Al?"

"Rachel, you know I can't lie."

"I think I know you can't lie. That might be the biggest lie of all. I know you can't give your word and go back on it without dire consequences, but I've been given no proof that, without circling your ass, you can't outright lie. I promised I would never circle you, so where does that leave me, hmm?" My toe went to tapping again, and I let it. I wanted him to know that I was losing my patience with the game.

"Look, we have a job to do and this is wasting valuable time. Don't you want to get about your weekend?"

"Of course I do, but I'm not leaving until we get this settled. You said we could talk about this after. Well, it's after, so let's talk."

"What difference does it make?" he asked, finally throwing his hands up in irritation. "Either you go on hating me, or you think I'm a sentimental ass. I would say that I don't give a fig what you think of me, but a demon has an image to maintain. I'd rather you think the worst of me so we can just get on with the job."

"What are you afraid of, Al, Newt? Do you think that if you somehow actually come to care for me, she'll take me away from you?"

"I'm afraid of YOU, ALL RIGHT?" he exploded. "You could be what makes me a success or you could be the ruin of me. Keeping things professional may be the only way to avert my own undoing. So, yes. I manipulated you and got a little play in the bargain, knowing you would be pissed at me for it and I would never have to worry about being one of your casualties," he sneered, twisting the knife in deep.

I took in a breath with the pain of the barb, hearing in it all of the honesty of what I've always known. Loving me was akin to a death sentence. Kisten could attest to that. In that moment, I hated Al worse than I had ever hated him before. Painful truths were the stock-and-trade of demonkind, so I had better get used to owning up to mine. I let out a shuddering breath, holding back tears at the pain of it all. "Great. Just great. Now I'm all pissed at you again."

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I really am, but some day you will thank me."

"You know what happens when I get pissed off. I act out. I can't help it. I have a temper. Must be a demon thing." I started toward him, stalking slowly, menace evident in my eyes.

"Now, Itchy Witch…" he chuckled nervously, "Let's not do anything hasty. I'd have to defend myself and I don't fancy having to call Pierce in here to mop up your greasy stain."

I kept coming and he kept retreating. I reveled in the power I held, the fear I instilled in the one who used to petrify me. I now knew he was afraid of me and that was better than any threat I could muster up myself. Noticing my enjoyment of intimidating him, he stopped in his tracks and puffed up his chest. "Now wait just a God Damned minute, here. I won't be your whipping boy for any reason." That brief moment he took to bluster was all I needed. I reached him, never slowing, and did the thing he wasn't expecting.

I kissed him.