Okay, Okay, it's late.

The chapter's late.

Why?

This time, no reason. No real reason at all.

So, therefore, to reward your patience, I now give you a totally vague, out-of-context look at a future chapter of Hostile.

Leo kept his eyes fixed on his lap, the necklace – complete with the crucifix pendant – weighing heavily in his pocket. While he knew he should tell everyone about the jewelry, he couldn't quite find his voice. It probably had something to do with how hard Mr. Davenport was clutching the steering wheel as he drove, his jaw set and fury etched across his face. And, even though Leo knew it was born from fear about what could have happened, he still couldn't help but feel that Mr. Davenport was angry just because Leo had been the one to do it. Had Bree, Adam, or even Chase been the one who had been there instead of Leo, Mr. Davenport would likely be much, much calmer.

After a second, Leo managed to speak. "Mr. Davenport, I almost had-"

"You had shit all!" Mr. Davenport snapped, silencing Leo effectively with the highly unexpected cussing. "Honestly, you voluntarily walk into so many dangerous situations that I sometimes think you have a death wish of some kind!"

Leo flinched and looked back at his lap again, letting the silence return.

There you go. Totally out-of-context. Enjoy. :3

ShyMusic:I can't for the life of me figure out if you're being sarcastic about Bree and Sam at all.

AllAmericanSlurp:It was a Davenportriat. No matter who you put it on, it's not worth much. :P

Mia-Teresa-Davenport: "Ha! That was a fun day. :3"

DarkestKing: "Not that I need you to approve my friends, but thanks."

So let's read! Tasha?

"Zara doesn't own Lab Rats or anything you recognize. If you don't recognize it, it's probably hers."

"Match wits with a creature older than time? Match wits with a prince of the dark dominions? Pit your tiny twentieth century mind against one who walked the spaces between the worlds, and trod the wings of angels beneath his conquering feet? Alexandra, you're a delight! Really, you are."

The Djinn, The Wishmaster

"Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have unlimited power, and only be able to use it when some worm asks you for something?"

The Djinn, The Wishmaster

Chase

"Remind me why you're doing this?"

I sighed, lowering my ears. "For the fifth time, Sam, we need to make a plan."

"I get that part," Sam responded, rolling her eyes. "What's bothering me is that you invited fifteen demons into your home without Summoners. Besides, these Hunters obviously have you guys outmatched."

I crossed my arms. "So? I don't have a Summoner. And they only got us because they had surprise on their side. They won't be so lucky next time."

"You're also kind of human or something like that," Sam said, waving a bit dismissively. "They aren't. They're full-blooded beasts. And the Hunters-"

"I told you that I'm half human-"

"I wasn't really listening, though. Wasn't interested, to be honest."

I smirked. "Of course you weren't, *Samantha.*"

She went from laying lazily on the couch to sitting bolt upright in a split second. "The fuck did you just call me?"

"You heard me," I growled challengingly. I never quite figured out why, but she hated being called by her full name.

With a loud, war-like cry, she lunged at me. I yelped and feinted to the side, avoiding being tackled by her. However, Sam caught my arm and dragged me back towards her rapidly. Before I could counter much, she landed the basest, most horrible blow she could: She threw an arm around my neck to hold me in one place while she started rubbing my right ear, running her finger over the torn tip.

I hissed loudly and struggled, flicking my ears wildly. "Stop!"

"Feel my wrath!" Sam responded with glee, still rubbing my ear.

After putting up with her for a second, I loosened my form and pulled myself into a raven, beating my wings rapidly and flying up to land among the rafters. "Ha!" I cawed down at Sam, amused by her scowl.

"Will you guys shut up?" Adam huffed from the kitchen. "I'm trying to study. I have a test tomorrow."

When the effect of Adam's soothing voice wore off, I rolled my eyes. I was surprised that no one had come clean about the deal Adam had struck with Douglas. Adam's grades were improving, so Douglas went a few weeks without drinking any alcohol for each class Adam passed. Too bad that no one told Adam that Douglas often went weeks at a time without drinking when he wasn't stressed about anything, anyways. He wasn't doing anything that he didn't do already, so Adam had, essentially, drawn the short stick in the deal. He was the only one who was putting any effort into it.

Douglas Davenport: Master Negotiator.

Sam rolled her eyes, picked up a rubber band and shot it at Adam. The band hit Adam's cheek, earning a scowl for Sam. She grinned innocently as a few tendrils of smoke floated in under the door and turned into four imps that has survived the massacre at the junkyard. One - a small fox with lovely gold fur (yes, I can admire pretty things) - bared long fangs at Sam, growling a bit. Sam stuck her tongue out at the small creature before completely ignoring it.

I sighed and let myself drop to the floor, beating my small wings to soften my landing before turning into my normal self. Before I could say anything, though, Tasha came into the living room with an exhausted expression on her face and a phoenix-looking bird on her shoulder. "I understand that you're doing this meeting thing here," Tasha started, picking up the imp and setting it on the floor, "but please tell them not to come and go as they please. This one flew in the window and just landed on me!"

"Sorry, Tasha," I responded, lowering my ears and tail to look chastised.

Tasha nodded. "And clean up after them if they break anything."

"We can break stuff?" Oly asked excitedly, picking up a vase and throwing it across the room with a wild cry of joy.

Tasha sighed heavily, obviously wishing that Douglas had taken Oly with him to wherever he had gone. "That's it," she huffed. "Take the demons outside!"

"Never, mortal!" The phoenix turned into a mouse and scurried away, her voice echoing in the room. "Catch me if you can!"

At that challenge, the other imps scattered themselves, grinning at their new game. Oly threw another vase across the room before turning into a fly and buzzing upstairs with a cackle. The only one left when she had vanished from my sight was Yahn, who had happily curled up on the table near Adam.

"I told you so," Sam said with a smirk.

I pinned my ears and stuck my tongue out at her before turning towards the kitchen, trying to avoid Tasha's glare. "Adam?"

Adam was watching us with an expression that was remarkably knowing for him. "You're going to make me Charm the demons out of hiding, aren't you?"

I purred at his lyrical voice, nodding. When he closed his book with a sigh, I grinned.

It helped to have a pied piper of demons.

"The mentality and behavior of drug addicts and alcoholics is wholly irrational until you understand that they are completely powerless over their addiction and unless they have structured help, they have no hope."

Russell Brand

"You are not an alcoholic or an addict. You are not incurably diseased. You have merely become dependent on substances or addictive behavior to cope with underlying conditions that you are now going to heal, at which time your dependency will cease completely and forever."

Chris Prentiss, The Alcoholism and Addiction Cure

Kevin

Kevin's hands were shaking wildly. He wished for the hundredth time that morning that he hadn't given Douglas all his speed. It had been easy enough to ignore it when he first awoke, but now?

Now, every other thought he had revolved around how to get his next fix. He honestly thought about finding a random demon - any demon - and giving it to a Hunter just to get one pill.

He only needed one. Just one. Just to stop the shaking, the worse-than-usual anxiety, the sickly longing that threatened to consume him completely.

It was only one. Where was the harm in one?

Douglas, though, was being a total hard ass. He even withheld his anxiety medication, letting Kevin have only the dose he was supposed to have that day.

Not that it was helping. Hell, if he had the bottle, Kevin would likely have taken three or four extra anxiety pills just to ease the withdrawal symptoms and his random panic attacks.

Now, as if to add insult to injury, Douglas had dragged him to the Mission Creek Community Center like a child for, of all things, a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

Fucking N.A.

The meeting served as an uncomfortable reminder of his days as a teenager, when his parents sent him to Straight Camp. He was just waiting for someone to start stalking around the room, snarling, "Homosexuality is a sin! Pray away the gay!"

The only thing that kept him from walking right out the door was the fact that Douglas was making the meeting rather amusing. He sat by Kevin, adding the occasional off-color remark to the testimonies.

A woman across the circle of people stood up. "Hi. I'm Sara, and I'm an addict."

Douglas leaned close and muttered, "Is anyone in any other line of work around here?"

Kevin suppressed a snicker.

Sara, oblivious to Douglas, continued. "One time, on my birthday, I got behind the wheel of my sports car – a bit high – and…" After a second of silence and some sniffling, she continued. "I was responsible for the death of a five-year-old little girl."

Suddenly, piercing through the silence that followed, came a question from Douglas. "What kind?"

Sara frowned. "What?"

"You said you had a sports car," Douglas elaborated. "That's neat. What kind?"

"A Miata," Sara answered.
Douglas snorted. "That's not a sports car. How does that even kill a kid? Did you hit her over the head with it?"

Kevin smiled and patted Douglas' hand to warn him to be quiet as the meeting leader – one heavy set man known as Steve - snapped at him. "Douglas, stop making snide remarks! N.A. is the only way out for these people!" Then, more calmly, he addressed the group. "I know this is hard, guys. Beating addiction always is. But, if you give yourself over to God –"

Douglas scoffed, interrupting Steve mid-sentence.

Steve clenched his teeth. "You have a different opinion?"

"Am I allowed to?" Douglas challenged. "What if I don't believe in your God? What then? Would I be doomed to be an addict forever?"

Although Kevin was raised as a Christian Scientist and had no problems with God and almost anything pertaining to Him, he couldn't help but notice that a few people were nodding in agreement with Douglas. He did have a point. Narcotics Anonymous was to help people overcome addictions, not serve as a secondary church.

Steve narrowed his eyes, but seemed to understand wholly that a few people were agreeing with Douglas, because he amended himself. "Very well. You don't need to believe in God. However, it helps to have faith in something when doing our program. Faith provides additional willpower. So whether you have faith in God, your own self-control, or a loved one, be prepared to fall back on it. You will need support."

Kevin tried not to think of the fact that Douglas had a loaded shotgun at his home waiting for Kevin if he got near the house or the kids again or the Hunter gathering that he would have to go to later to spy for Douglas in order to stay alive (he didn't want to risk Douglas becoming volatile enough to actually shoot him the next time he had a pistol, so he wanted to make himself as valuable as possible). Instead, he focused on the fact that Douglas – whether or not they were together at the moment – had cared enough to take it upon himself to help Kevin. When one had no family to call upon, it was more comforting to have someone who at least tried than no one at all.

A man stood up for his testimonial. "Hi. I'm Paul, and I'm an addict. I lost my job, my kids, and my wife to my addiction. But now that I've been clean for three months, the court is allowing me to visit my kids on the weekends. And my ferret – Samuel – just thinks I'm the best."

Kevin leaned close to Douglas, whispering, "Please tell me that I won't turn into a lame douchebag with a ferret when I'm clean."

"I won't let you," Douglas answered back. "I'll turn any ferret you buy into a scarf that you can wear around town."

Kevin bit down another snicker. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

There ya go. The next chapter. And a little vague prize thrown in, too. :3

For the record, there is a part of this chapter that is actually very similar to a scene from a popular television show. Free Internet cookie to the one who gets it. ;)

So, until next time, feel free to review. Or don't. Meh.

And enjoy.

*Bows and exits*