Author's Note: The following takes place a decade after the events depicted in the film Raising Arizona.

Ed was drying off the last dinner plate at the mobile home's kitchen sink when her patience finally snapped. Tossing onto the kitchen counter her towel, she whirled around and pointed an angry finger at where her husband in his chair was back again at fearfully eyeing the intact, untouched envelope on the card table by his placemat, just as he'd done throughout their entire meal tonight.

"Jesus Christ, Hi, open the stupid thing and read it already!"

Not taking his worried gaze away from the letter delivered earlier today with his name and address printed on the envelope front, Hi repeated what he'd said far too many times since coming home from work, "Something sent to me from any law firm is never good news! Especially when I wasn't expecting it at all!"

Ed just folded her arms across her chest and glared at Hi.

Perhaps sensing his wife was now on the verge of truly losing her temper, Hi hastily picked up the letter and held it out to Ed, "Look, how about you read it for me instead, okay?"

Ed blinked, trying to figure out Hi's weird thought processes which had just resulted in the odd offer. She soon had to admit defeat by asking, "And that'd be better because…?"

He shrugged a little hopefully, encouraged by Ed not dismissing this request right away. "I dunno, but it just will, honey. I always feel safer, knowing you and me, we're partners in everything."

*Damn, but that smooth bastard's done it again, talking his ass outta trouble,* Ed fondly thought to herself. She still refused to have the rush of her sudden inner affection change her grumpy expression which Ed maintained during an exasperated sigh of "Fine," and taking her own place at the card table across from Hi.

Snatching from him the proffered letter, Ed inserted a fingernail under the glued fold and ripped downwards. From inside the envelope, a sheet of paper slid out onto the card tabletop, revealing itself to be wrapped around yet another envelope.

Trading puzzled glances with each other, Hi watched Ed pick up the sheet of paper and unfold it from the other envelope.

Leaving that envelope on the table for now, his spouse then read aloud from the paper, "Dear Mr. McDunnough, as per our client's last will and testament, we are sending you the following sealed letter. Should you require our services in the near future as a result of whatever is included in the letter, we can be contacted at the phone number given on this notice. Thank you for your consideration from the law offices of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe."

"Will?" said a bewildered Hi as he stared at Ed appearing just as baffled as him. "Did someone we know die recently?"

Ed lifted her shoulders in a mystified shrug. She glanced down at the other letter innocently resting upon the tabletop. Her gaze sharpened at seeing the full name written in black ink upon the front of this letter.

"Herbert McDunnough? Who still calls you Herbert?"

Hi (Herbert I.) now looked even more lost. "Nobody I can think of, offhand. You know I've always hated that name. Ever since grade school, I wouldn't answer to anything than my initials."

Reaching out to pick up that letter, Ed paused in this to instead eye Hi. "You want me to…?"

"Yeah, sure," Hi nodded.

Granted this permission, Ed once again performed the necessary action to open the letter and extract the several sheets of paper there, all handwritten in the same feminine hand as that done with Hi's real name on the envelope. Clearing her throat, Ed began to read aloud again:

"Herbert, you won't remember me, but I'm Chrissy Bailey from our junior year in high school. I definitely remember you, especially how you couldn't stand being called Herbert. You know what? The fact you got this letter means I'm dead now from cancer, so basically I'll say whatever I damn well please, no matter how blunt it gets. Such as the whole point of me writing to you, which is to tell you I had your kid sixteen years ago."

Hi froze in his chair, gaping at Ed who still kept on reciting from the letter due to her own shock that made her unable to stop talking.

"Yep, it all started at Maggie Hinson's weekend party a month after school began when her parents were out of town and she invited over the whole class to hang out there, with plenty of booze for everyone. I think we were equally drunk in the guest bedroom when we got it on, but from what I heard later, you downed a couple more six-packs and decided to show off your hot-wiring skills on Maggie's dad's Porsche. You didn't even make it out of the driveway before crashing head-on into the police cruiser that'd been called about the party noise."

Actually, Hi frowned, it'd been more of a casual sideswipe instead of a full speed ramming collision with the cops back then from what he'd just recollected about what'd put him in his first real stint of juvie. He opened his mouth to correct Ed, only to sensibly stay quiet at seeing his wife's grim expression. In a deadly monotone, she continued to quote from the letter, staring fixedly at the written lines all the while.

"At least nobody ever connected me leaving school afterwards with how you got arrested that night. As you might've guessed, Mom and Dad absolutely refused to get in touch with you about me being pregnant. I had to admit they had a pretty good point in all the yelling around then, not to mention how I was certainly too young to raise a child on my own. Anyway, it soon wound up with me being sent to stay with my aunt to have the kid and next put him or her up for adoption. It didn't exactly work out that way, though. As luck would have it, one of my older cousins couldn't get knocked up no matter what she and Tony tried, so a new plan had her live with us until I finally delivered the little bundle of joy in the local hospital. I don't remember or didn't care about all the details what with the thirty-six-hour screaming marathon I had, but Cousin Jessica went back to California, with their new son. Me, I was just glad it was all over and done."

By now, Ed was whispering in her cold fury.

"Please don't say I should act more motherly about Alexander, as Jessica and Tony named him. I just didn't care, okay? Not then, not ever. The few Christmas cards I got from Jessica over the years said he was growing up fine, anyway, and that was enough for me. What changed was me getting sick and finding out I had the same thing as Gilda Radner from Saturday Night Live, and it wasn't gonna work out any better than it did for her. I wrote this letter when my doctors said I had maybe a few more weeks, or even less. There was just enough time for me to check up on you, Herbert."

Ed managed to venomously hiss that exact name even without it possessing any sibilants whatsoever. She went on without the slightest glance at where Hi was miserably sinking down in his chair.

"Boy, you're a real piece of work, you know that? Didn't you ever have the slightest bit of ambition to be something more than a lousy convenience store robber? Though, surprising as it was, you finally turned your life around. I'm certain that it only happened because you married somebody a whole lot smarter than you. Now that I've gotten that off my chest, here's the reason I told you about our kid. After all the medical bills, I still have some remaining assets, and I might as well as give them to Alexander Harris. Get in touch with the lawyers who sent you this letter. They're holding the funds in trust and if you agree to turn over the money to him, you'll get five thousand dollars for yourself."

Taken aback by that unexpected bit of news, Hi stared at where Ed on the other hand hadn't reacted except for coldly finishing the last remaining lines in the letter.

"I'm sure you'll still find some way to totally screw it up, Herbert. That was your major talent when we were at Rushmore High, and I don't really expect you've changed very much since then. I will say I hope you don't make too much of a mess of things because some poor kid who probably has no idea who either of us are doesn't deserve any of that.

Goodbye from Chrissy Bailey.

P.S.: Our nearly five minutes together wasn't all that exciting, no matter if you've convinced yourself otherwise.

P.P.S.: For God's sake, get a haircut. Mullets went out of style the same time the Reagan years did."

"Hey!" objected Hi, tenderly patting his 'do to comfort it from that last insult. During this, he wonderingly mentioned under his breath, "It's a boy!"

Maybe it hadn't been quiet enough, considering how Ed promptly surged up from her chair, the woman's face working with multiple emotions. Spinning around to grip the kitchen counter's edge with both hands, Ed stared out through the mobile home window at the familiar desert landscape outside, holding back tears that threatened to fall unceasingly if she allowed them.

Ten years. Ten long, long, childless years since walking away from Nathan Arizona, Jr. in his little crib at that Phoenix mansion.

Nobody had ever found out she and Hi kidnapped and then returned that adorable baby except for them and a couple others who for various reasons either kept quiet about it or were never believed concerning such a wild story. Afterwards, Ed rejoined the state corrections department with her seniority restored, and Hi went through a county employment work-training program for former inmates that turned him into a plumber. To both his and Ed's astonishment, Hi really thrived at the job, showing an actual talent for cleaning up sanitation catastrophes now that he was his own boss.

Her husband was also the one to talk Ed in continuing their efforts at legal adoption with the words, "We'll just wear the bastards down, honey."

That hadn't worked out too well, though, with Hi and Ed never succeeding at being given a kid of their own to love and cherish. Lately, Ed started feeling incredibly depressed about the stark fact their already problematic chances were getting even worse the longer it was taking, giving the state adoption agency yet another reason to pick much younger couples over the McDunnoughs.

And now, capping it all off, there was this stunning revelation that her goddamn asshole husband had a teenage son walking around somewhere in California—

Ed was interrupted in her bitter thoughts by strong arms embracing this woman from behind. Hi disregarded Ed's abrupt stiffening of her body at this close contact to whisper in her ear, "I know I said the wrong thing, honey. I shoulda yelled instead, 'IT'S OUR BOY!' 'Cause even if he don't know it right now, this Alexander kid's got the finest, bravest, most spectacular stepmom in the whole U.S.A., and I ain't lyin' none 'bout that!"

Edwina McDunnough was quite resigned to the reality that all too often, her significant other could be the world's biggest idiot. That said, H.I. McDunnough was also the man who could say and do such nice things for this woman that she realized once again just why she married the guy in the first place a decade ago.

Turning around in his embrace, Ed laid her face against Hi's t-shirt and cried her eyes out, fiercely hugging him in turn. Patting her back during all this, Hi rode out the emotional storm with all the patience he'd learned in their happy marriage. They'd get through this too, you betcha.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they were back again at the dinner table in their original chairs. While Ed continued to dab a napkin at her still-damp cheeks, Hi read again Chrissy Bailey's letter, spotting one particular name in there.

"Okay, she says her cousin moved to someplace called Sunnydale— What?"

Hi broke off in his statement to squint at where Ed had just quickly straightened up in her chair, napkin forgotten in one hand while she stared blankly past Hi. She nibbled at her lower lip, apparently trying to remember something, only to finally frown and shake her head.

"Dammit, I almost had it that time!"

"What, honey?" Hi prompted again.

Ed continued frowning. "Sunnydale…I know I've heard that name before, but that's all I can come up with now. It was, maybe my first year as a corrections officer, and even if I can't think of the exact details now, it's got a sort of bad mental smell clinging to it."

Hi sent a suspicious glance towards all of the documents spread out on the dinner table. He looked up at Ed.

"You suppose this might be some kinda scam? I mean, when I was inside and bullshitted with the con men sharing our floor, this is a pretty fair match for some of their stories on how they set up their marks."

Doing a contemplative nod, Ed declared, "I think we better confirm all of it in advance before doing anything more. There's a guy at work who's in charge of the computer system. Word is, he's got a sideline for a modest fee, he'll check out what you want to know through it without anybody being the wiser."

Hi smirked at his ordinarily straight-arrow wife. "That come with the condition that you don't ask him questions how he did it and he don't lie to you 'bout it?"

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Ed huffed, "Yes!"

She glowered at Hi sniggering to himself, knowing that her next words were going to amuse her husband even more. "When you're finishing laughing, I want you to go to the Black Boot Bar tomorrow night and ask around the bunch of reprobates there about what they might know having to do with Sunnydale."

Hi's bushy brows lifted in surprise. Ed normally had little liking for the old-style dive bar where Hi went to once or twice a week to unwind after work with a few beers. It was the kind of disreputable neighborhood place where nobody batted an eye or pinched a nostril at a guy in stained plumbers' overalls downing a convivial brewski with his buddies. These same lushes were the friends Hi had grown up with, most of who shared his prison record and tolerated their old pal living the straight life as long as he kept on buying a round for the house when it was his turn.

Thinking it over, Hi ventured, "Your Sunnydale flashback…you figure you overheard some cons talking about that place?"

"Yes," she nodded, watching how her husband considered that. Eventually, he shrugged in acceptance.

"Okay, honey, I'll stop by there tomorrow. Looks like we got a proper plan going on, so let's leave it at that for now. You want to come to bed?"

Ed smiled at the man she'd vowed to spend the rest of her life with. Oh, yeah, that little Chrissy bitch talking trash about Hi, she had no idea what he could do in the sack now that a real woman had shown him the ropes.

"Damn right…Herbert."

Hi puffed out his chest in mock outrage. "You're gonna pay for that, Edwina."

Two nights later, the married pair were back again at the dinner table. Neither of them looked particularly happy.

Ed worriedly urged, "You go first, Hi."

Taking a deep breath, Hi confessed, "All of 'em at the bar who knew about Sunnydale, they said the same thing: Stay the fuck away from there."

"Why?"

"Because it's dirty. Totally, completely dirty. The whole town's crooked, from top to bottom. That'd be, I dunno, the mayor or what, down to, oh, hell, the dogcatchers," Hi fervently answered a frowning Ed, who posed another question.

"So, they're corrupt? Doesn't that mean other crooks would want to go there…" She trailed off at seeing how Hi was firmly shaking his head.

"Along with being shady beyond belief, those in charge at that damn place really don't like competition. So, they make sure there isn't any. It happens often enough, a jailbird out to pull some kind of job there and suddenly getting killed in the middle of this, that there's a honest-to-God code name for it! They call it a 'barbecue fork incident' and even go far enough to stab someone in the throat to make it clear to what'll happen to anyone else trying the same thing!"

Ed winced. She admitted, "I finally remembered what I overheard about Sunnydale that time. It was where two older guards were chatting in the break room and didn't see me in the corner. Basically, if you screwed up big-time somehow — got caught taking bribes, used excessive force way too often, whatever — all you needed was to apply and the city force would welcome you with open arms. Sounds like nothing's changed since then."

Hi slumped down in his chair. He moaned, "And our kid's there, in that hellhole!"

The former Short Stop store robber didn't get any response concerning that from Ed. Glancing at her, Hi saw she was looking…guilty.

Straightening up with an abrupt jerk in his seat, Hi demanded of his wife, "What? What's the matter?"

Bracing herself, Ed tried to ease into it: "You know the computer guy at work I was going to check on, um, Alexander? He showed up the middle of my shift, handed me a report and said that's all, don't ever talk to him again. Apparently, someone found out he was looking up Sunnydale and almost traced him back to his prison computer."

Hi regarded his wife with increasing alarm. "You mean, we've been found out?"

"No!" Ed hastily reassured Hi. "I wanted to know the same thing, but I got told by O'Dowd the computer guy that he ran his search through the New York City police department computer system. Anybody looking for him, they'd have to interview the whole force there to find out none of them did it. Again, he made it clear we were quits and he never wants to even see me if possible."

"Good," Ed sighed with relief. He sent a quick, wary squint towards Ed at remembering something she'd just said moments ago. "What was that about a report from computer guy?"

Ed knew that'd be coming up, but hopefully it wouldn't be too bad— Oh, who was she fooling? It was indeed going to be bad.

Gulping, Ed plunged into her disclosure. "He found out it was all true: Chrissy Bailey's pregnancy, her delivery, the birth certificate signover to Jessica Harris, the new Harris family moving to Sunnydale, and Alexander Harris growing up there."

A slow, happy smile spread over Hi's face. "Alex McDunnough… That sounds pretty good."

Really sorry about it, Ed revealed, "Hi, Alexander's Sunnydale hospital records came with the report. He's had a lot of serious injuries over the years…and from what I've learned on the job, they look too much like child abuse."

In the sudden silence descending in the mobile home, Hi's eyes turned flat. At that moment, he appeared nothing like the usual goofy personality he regularly showed to the world but rather that of a man who'd survived serious prison time.

He said softly, "Somebody's hitting my boy?"

Ed responded equally softly, "I called in all my vacation days. We can leave for Sunnydale early tomorrow morning."

"Good."

"Dru? Dru?" concernedly asked Spike from where he was crouching in front of his lover's wheelchair. In this chair required by Drusilla still weakened from her ordeal in Prague, that female vampire was presently pitching a fit.

Eyes firmly closed while her upper torso convulsed, sending strands of hair lashing like whips around her head, Dru clutched both arms to her chest, moaning at whatever vision she was helplessly undergoing. Spike regarded his suffering lady with growing unease.

Damme, he hadn't seen her like this in ages. Maybe a careful shake of her shoulder would bring her back to their surroundings in one of Chicago's former basement speakeasies turned into a vampire nest generations ago. The other fanged demons who typically laired here had either been dusted earlier by Spike for merely looking at Dru or were smart enough to leave as fast as possible even while risking getting caught in the noonday sun.

Reaching out with a cautious hand, Spike—

Her crazed eyes snapping open, Dru leaned forward in her wheelchair to scream right into William the Bloody's face, "THE HEIR OF CHAOS AND HIS QUEEN, FIERCE AND BARREN, THEY JOURNEY TO THE MOUTH OF HELL TO RECLAIM THEIR ASTRAY CUB!"

Eyeballs rolling upwards in her skull, Dru gratefully lost consciousness, slumping down in her seat.

Spike just remained in his crouch. He eventually lifted a fingertip to his left eyebrow, where a drop of Dru's saliva dangled, flicking off this little globule while uttering a mild, "Bugger."

Arising to his feet, Spike sent a meditative gaze towards Dru slumbering in her wheelchair. Well, now that she'd let it all out, things would with a bit of luck be a tad more peaceful in their latest home.

Good. He needed to mull this over further. 'Mouth of Hell,' that one was easy enough. Sunnydale, aye? Exactly where he'd been about to take Dru to get properly fixed up from her injuries. The rest, though…that beat him.

Beginning to pace back and forth across from Dru, Spike glanced at her in passing. Alas, she wouldn't have the slightest idea either of what anything of that prophesy meant when she finally awoke. Her shattered mind was fragile enough that a vision charging through Dru's head like the Flying Scotsman at full steam didn't leave behind the merest fragment of explanation.

However, all that sound and fury…it seemed like the wisest course of action was to simply pay no attention to it. It's not like they had any urgent appointments at Sunnydale. Spend a couple months here in Chicago instead? That appealed to Spike more and more the longer he considered this.

Right, then, that's what they'd do. There were enough demons and magical humans around in America's third largest city that it was worth seeing if someone here could enchant Dru back into her undead glory. Whatever was going to happen in Sunnydale, it could just take place two thousand miles away for all Spike cared.

Mind you, there was still one minor detail which nagged at Spike. A pity that when Dru got so worked up, her once-thicker Cockney accent returned in all its fullness, changing her speech into something which even Spike had a touch of difficulty in deciphering.

That first part of what she'd bellowed at close range, had Dru meant the 'Heir of Chaos' or the 'Hair of Chaos'?

Spike knew that was going to bloody well going keep him up well past sunrise instead of having a proper kip…