HSM: 34th and Vine Slayer'verse

[autonomyanatomy]

Fandom: HSM with some BtVS lore mixed in and Bandom (focus on MCR and PatD, with cameos by FOB, The Cab, Hey Monday, TAI…, CS, and one tiny reference to AAR)
Pairing: Ryan/Chad, Troy/Gabriella, Bob/Frank, Spencer/Brendon, past Chad/Taylor and Spencer/Brent
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~9.5k words
Spoilers: None
Warnings: This is more serious than the first fic, but it’s still pretty cracktastic.
Author's Note: There is little Ryan/Chad in this story. The main focal point is Taylor, but the plot revolves around Ryan/Chad. Cheerleading/support/backstories/random abuse/beta from the super-awesome saekokato, who enables me so hard. This is Bob. And this is Frank. Here’s some Spencer and Brendon.
Disclaimer: HSM is that of Disney and Ortega. Buffy is that of Joss. MCR and Panic belong to themselves.
Disclaimer 2: I tried really hard to remove all traces of the passive voice from this, but I don’t think I was successful.
Summary: This was not Taylor’s idea of the optimal April Break. She imagined more sleeping in and less cockblocking Chad and Ryan. Frank had never said that was in the Slayer’s job description.

34th and Vine

Chad was very much in love with Ryan. It made him happy. And Ryan was so very much in love with Chad. Taylor knew this because they declared their love for each other. A lot. This made Taylor unhappy. She made sure that Chad knew this. Every time he declared his love for Ryan, Taylor made gagging noises and rolled her eyes. This was not nice of Taylor, but it in no way dampened Chad’s happiness. She knew she had been around Frank too much, and his personality was slowly seeping into hers.

They were all on their way to Bob and Frank’s duplex. Ryan was driving his car with the top down, and Chad was in the passenger’s seat making eyes at Ryan. Taylor sat in the backseat. She was probably going to pull a muscle. She was rolling her eyes that hard.

“You two have proved you’re disgusting,” Taylor scoffed. “There’s no reason to outdo Troy and Gabriella. Plus, Ryan, you’re driving. Eyes on the road.”

“Taylor’s jealous because she gave up on you,” Ryan cooed at Chad.

“No, Taylor’s not,” Taylor huffed, brushing her flying hair out of her face. “You guys are disgusting. It’s new, too. What’s with you guys?”

“I’m in love,” Chad said, turning around in his seat to look at Taylor, breaking eye contact with Ryan for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Me too!” Ryan beamed.

“Ugh,” Taylor grumbled.

Ryan pulled up in front of Bob and Frank’s duplex, and gave Chad a kiss after he put the car in park. Taylor didn’t even bother opening the car door. She just unbuckled her seatbelt and vaulted out of the car, almost running up to the door of the duplex.

Frank met her at the door. He was frowning.

“I need to escape the lovebirds or I’m going to lose my lunch,” Taylor explained hurriedly, making a face.

“About that…” Frank trailed off, eyeing Ryan and Chad carefully. Actually, it wasn’t carefully - it was suspiciously.

Bob skulked into the doorway, shadowing Frank. “Shit,” he said emphatically.

Frank nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Guys?” Taylor asked.

Ryan and Chad had yet to leave the car.

“Remember we were after that coven?” Frank asked slowly, as if speaking to a very slow child. Taylor assumed it was because Frank knew she hated that tone. He used it when he wanted her to play “find the missing link.” Taylor was going to be extra hard on him during their sparring practice. She demanded retribution.

Taylor narrowed her eyes at Frank.

“How long have they been like that?” Frank gestured at Ryan’s car with his chin.

“Since this morning,” Taylor said dryly. Her lip curled a bit as she eyed the two boys.

“Damn it,” Frank said empathetically.

“I’m going to now assume that their sugary displays of affection are not done at their own discretion. It’s the coven,” Taylor said, turning her attention to Frank.

Frank thinned his lips and nodded. Bob put a hand on Frank’s shoulder and carefully pulled him inside. Taylor followed. Chad and Ryan would become bored eventually and head in. She took one last look at them, and then she decided that they would not end up bored. Sunburned yes, but not bored.

Taylor plopped down on the couch. “So. A love spell,” she said flatly. “That’s new.”

Frank rummaged through the fridge as Bob sat down at the table. “Not really,” Frank said. “It’s kinda old. Witches love them.” Frank giggled at his own pun.

Bob rolled his eyes. “What Frank means is that it’s a classic spell.”

“Why?” Taylor asked, crossing her ankles and leaning forward slightly. “What’s the motivation?”

Frank emerged from behind the fridge door and handed Taylor a bottle of Gatorade. “Money,” he said.

“Someone paid for Chad and Ryan to be all mushy with each other?” Taylor asked incredulously. She placed the bottle next to her on the couch. She’d pick it up before they moved downstairs to spar.

“Things are a bit more complex than that, but that’s probably the bottom line,” Bob said.

“Complex how?” Taylor narrowed her eyes. “Complex bad?”

“Complex bad,” Frank confirmed.

“Of course,” Taylor said resignedly. “What type of bad?”

“Draining of life force bad,” Frank said. He plopped down next to Taylor on the couch.

“Good times,” Taylor huffed. “I’m assuming you guys already know about all this stuff and know how to break this spell.”

“That’s the complex part,” Bob explained.

Taylor sighed and sunk her head onto her hands with her elbows propped on her knees. “What do you guys know about this situation?”

“Each spell is different. It depends on the witch and the coven and the intent,” Bob continued.

A car horn blared. Taylor assumed that Chad and Ryan had forgotten they were in a car, but Bob went out to investigate. He came back inside dragging Chad and Ryan by the neck of their shirts. Ryan complained about stretching out his overpriced shirt. Taylor may have paraphrased that. Love spell or not, that behavior was childish.

Bob physically separated them. He shoved Chad down onto the couch on one side of Taylor and Ryan on the other side.

Chad looked forlornly over Taylor to Ryan, but Taylor gave him a very cold look that made him think better of whatever he had been thinking. Taylor figured it probably was about Ryan’s tonsils.

Frank and Bob shared a look that Taylor recognized as devious - the one that made her want to check to see if she still had her wallet.

Frank smirked at her. Then winked. He was going to do something unorthodox and probably to Chad.

Bob kept his expression bland.

Frank launched himself at Chad, lips first. That was so predictable. Frank had a hand on Chad’s thigh before Ryan bodily yanked Frank away. Bob was right behind Ryan to pull him off Frank.

Taylor sighed. “Did you really have to do that?”

Frank giggled as he climbed onto Bob’s back. “Yes,” Frank may have said through his giggles. It was difficult to tell if one wasn’t Frank - or Bob.

“Now we know how strong it is,” Bob pointed out. “And that jealousy can motivate violence.”

“How strong what is?” Chad demanded, trying to touch Ryan. Taylor held Chad back, much to his chagrin. Chad kept trying to squirm free.

“My love for you,” Ryan said, trying to squirm free of Bob’s grasp. Bob still had Frank on his back.

“They’ve been like this all day,” Taylor stressed.

“We’re going to need to keep them separated,” Frank assessed, peering down from around Bob’s head.

“How far separated?” Taylor asked, narrowing her eyes.

“So they can’t see each other, can’t hear each other, can’t smell each other,” Bob said.

“Can’t hanky-panky,” Frank giggled.

Taylor wrinkled her nose. “Do you have to be crass?”

“That was crude,” Frank remarked primly. “Not crass.”

Taylor rolled her eyes.

“Taylor, there’s a box in the bedroom,” Bob said, dropping Frank so he could keep a firmer handle on Ryan. “On the top shelf in the closet. On the left. Left. Not right.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “Do you guys seriously have a bedroom box? Oh, God! Don’t answer that.”

Frank couldn’t even expel any words from his mouth - what came out was a high pitched giggle. Chad looked disturbingly interested.

“I’m going to have to bleach my hands, aren’t I?” She looked up at Bob challengingly.

He looked stoically back. “Get the damn box.”

Frank took over for Taylor, holding Chad away from Ryan, as Taylor stomped upstairs.

The box on the right was notably larger than the box on the left. Taylor tried really hard not to think about it as she grabbed the box on the left.

She was to the point where she didn’t even want to open the box she took, in case Bob had made a mistake. Not that Bob made mistakes, but sometimes he liked to fuck with her mind. He and Frank were also responsible for the curses - foul language, not spells - had worked their way into her vocabulary.

“Here.” She shoved the box at Bob and took hold of Ryan, who still struggled for freedom.

Bob pulled two pairs of handcuffs out of the box. At first, Taylor thought she had grabbed the wrong box. But Bob took one pair, attached it to Ryan’s wrist, and then a rung of the stair railing. He did the same with Chad on the other side, tuning out all protesting. They were still able to sit on each side of the couch, so it’s not like they were that uncomfortable.

“There,” Bob said over grumblings from Chad and Ryan. “Now we can do this without them pawing at each other.”

Taylor eyed Chad and Ryan critically as they tugged at their cuffs. It would end up hurting them more than the stairs. Hopefully they would demonstrate the common sense necessary to stop before they seriously damaged themselves. Taylor decided she, Frank, and Bob would have to work quickly.

Taylor sat down between the boys on the couch. “So. What do you guys know about the situation?” Taylor repeated, trying desperately to return to the situation at hand so Frank would stop torturing Chad.

“It’s strong,” Bob said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall across from the couch to keep an eye on it. “But not intricate.”

“How do you know?” Taylor asked, swatting at Chad’s hand. He kept poking her in the arm and repeating her name. Like that was going to convince her to uncuff him.

“The lust is almost more intense than the love,” Frank explained. “Lust is a lot easier to cast than love.” He stood by Bob. “Remember that time in Spokane?”

Bob nodded but frowned. “I’m not calling Spencer. Spencer means Brendon.” He narrowed his eyes at Frank meaningfully. Taylor had met Brendon. He didn’t seem that bad. He was just… energetic. It’s not like Frank wasn’t. “I’m not dealing with Brendon unless I have to. And I obviously don’t have to.”

Frank hmphed.

“Besides,” Bob added, looking down at Frank. “You just want to stare at Spencer’s hips.”

Frank smirked. “That’s just a bonus.”

“Will that help Ryan and Chad?” Taylor asked flatly.

“You’re underestimating the magic of Spencer’s hips,” Frank patronized.

“So it won’t help them.” Taylor grabbed Chad’s finger mid-poke. She tightened her grip until Chad squirmed uncomfortably. “You do that one more time, and I’ll break it,” she hissed at him. That mollified Chad for the moment.

“We need to find out which coven and which spell was used,” Bob said. “They usually stop us when we’ve snooped that far.”

“You’ve done this before?” Taylor asked. “Spokane?”

“Spokane,” Frank repeated, bobbing his head. “It got pretty bad before we could find the coven. But it’s different in each case. Obviously.”

Taylor turned to Chad, who sulked next to her, occasionally tugging at the handcuffs. Ryan did similarly on her other side. “How do we find the coven?”

“Sometimes they give themselves away, sometimes it’s more difficult,” Bob said.

“You don’t know, then,” Taylor stated.

“No,” Bob admitted.

“Research!” Frank enthused, racing up the stairs. Taylor and Bob shared a look. She then moved from the couch to the kitchen table. Chad and Ryan watched them sullenly.

- - -

Research was a bust. Taylor, Bob, and Frank moved into the basement to spar. Taylor was extra hard on Frank, and then she excused herself to go to the bathroom. Frank was looking to Bob for sympathy, so they barely heard her. Like Taylor wanted to witness that. Taylor figured she had enough time to check on the boys to make sure they haven’t bitten off their hands to escape and find Brendon’s number on Frank’s phone. Brendon would be able to explain what had happened in Spokane. Taylor didn’t know Spencer, but she had met Brendon, and if Spencer meant Brendon as Bob claimed, then Brendon would know.

Chad and Ryan were still cuffed, but they were trying very hard to make contact with each other - with their toes.

“Guys,” Taylor said disdainfully. “That’s really gross.”

“Ryan has hot toes,” Chad informed her.

“Really, really gross,” Taylor amended.

Frank’s phone was easy enough to find: it was sitting on the counter. Navigating his address book was a complete nightmare. Taylor knew “gee” and could guess “stumpy” and possibly “ze bull” but had no clue about others like “jew” and “cobra angel” and “butcher.”

Taylor could figure out “hips ;)” was probably Spencer. “fuckface” and “baby pete” had the same area code as “hips ;)” - but then again so did “cash,” “alex ii,” “alex iii,” and “alex iv.” Ironically, “alex original” had a very different area code.

She copied “fuckface”’s number into her phone along with “baby pete”’s. She would call them both that night to figure out who was who.

Chad needed to use the bathroom, and Taylor was not about to deal with that by herself. She drafted Bob; he just didn’t know it yet.

Frank was still whining to Bob when Taylor descended the stairs again.

“Bob,” Taylor said. “Chad needs to use your bathroom. He’s only housetrained to a point.”

Frank cackled enough to give Bob room to escape. Bob scowled at her for her double-edged escape route.

“I’m going to have to deal with Ryan’s sister. You can at least manhandle Chad into the bathroom without him making a break for Ryan,” Taylor grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

- - -

Taylor was not able to contact either “fuckface” or “baby pete” before she had to deal with Sharpay. Taylor, Frank, and Bob concluded that Chad would stay at their place in the guest room, and Ryan would go home under instructions to his sister that he not leave. Under any other circumstances this would have been a problem, but it was April break. No school to worry about. Taylor did not want to think about what would have happened if school had been in session.

Taylor had difficulty convincing Ryan to leave without Chad. This resulted in a lot of shouting and insults of family members as far back as a “Great Aunt’s Uncle” - Taylor had Chad to thank for that. Not that Frank had been much better.

Taylor drove Ryan’s car back to his house. Frank followed in his car to return Taylor to her own house and to provide backup in case Ryan jumped ship.

However, Frank, the little coward, refused to help Taylor deal with Sharpay.

Sharpay looked less than thrilled to see Taylor grasping Ryan’s arm standing in the middle of the Evans’s kitchen.

“Ick,” Sharpay said, taking in the situation. “Unhand him.”

Taylor raised her eyebrows in challenge but released Ryan. “He’s all yours.”

Ryan shuffled over to his sister. “Shar! It’s horrible! She’s keeping me away from Chad!” He pointed back to Taylor.

“Ugh! Ryan, don’t grovel,” Sharpay chastised.

“I am keeping him away from Chad,” Taylor said. “And you need to as well.”

Sharpay frowned, and Ryan looked at her pitifully. “Why should I care?”

“Chad is ill. Ryan might be ill as well, but they need to keep away from each other until Chad is given a clean bill of health,” Taylor lied. Lying was still difficult - even about anything supernatural, but it seemed too easy to lie to Sharpay. “You need to keep him inside, resting, and keep an eye on him.”

Sharpay looked to Ryan incredulously.

“She’s lying,” Ryan said.

“Please keep him from hurting himself,” Taylor said. “And away from Chad.”

Sharpay made an offended noise. “I’m not going to cockblock my own brother,” she scoffed.

Taylor smirked, just a little evilly. “You’d rather have him fucking Chad in the room next to yours?”

“Okay. Eww. God, McKessie, what is wrong with you? It’s not my business who my brother hooks up with. Well, actually, it is, but Danforth makes him happy for some ridiculous reason, so I let my brother be happy. And he’s not the next room over. He’s the next suite over. Please.” Sharpay cocked her hips and placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Is this some sort of jealousy thing? Your ex wouldn’t have sex with you, now he’s gay, and you’re jealous?”

Okay, here are some facts about Chad and Taylor when they dated:

One. Chad, for all his bravado, was very sweet and attentive to her.

Two. Chad’s bravado was almost too much (read: annoying) for Taylor to handle.

Three. Taylor was the one who didn’t want to sleep with Chad. Although, she had been working up to that moment when Frank had found her. Gabriella told her, thankfully sparing the details, about how wonderful sex was. She almost had Taylor convinced. Then Frank had blocked the aisle in the library, and everything normal in Taylor’s life had ended. Taylor’s life also had an earlier expiration date, but she didn’t want to think about that, and it really had nothing to do with Chad.

Four. Taylor loved Chad. But not like that. He was… she had no idea how to properly express her feelings for Chad. She loved him, though. Still did. No matter how platonic that love was. She loved him enough to cut her losses when Frank and Bob turned her life upside down.

Five. Taylor harbored an unfounded hatred for Frank and Bob for turning her life upside down. She hid it, because this was what she had been born for. But that didn’t stop her from holding them accountable.

“No,” Taylor said tightly. “Chad is sick. I don’t want Ryan to become ill. Do you?”

“No,” Sharpay said grudgingly.

“Traitor,” Ryan hissed at her and stomped away.

“I have his car keys,” Taylor said. “So he can’t sneak out.”

“Ryan knows well enough not to touch my car,” Sharpay said. Taylor wasn’t sure if that would be a good enough fix.

“Just keep an eye on him. Keep him safe. Uh, I guess treat him as if he were drunk,” Taylor said.

Sharpay gave her a bland look, and Taylor figured that would be the best Sharpay would give her.

- - -

Frank cackled at her all the way home. That made calling his contacts even more rewarding. Although, she should have just driven Ryan’s car, but this prevented him from reporting his car stolen. Taylor didn’t want to explain the situation to the cops… even if she could lie and say she had been the designated driver…

Taylor locked herself in her room to make her calls, sitting on the edge of her bed. She decided to go in alphabetical order, calling “baby pete” first. She had no idea how she would ask if she had the right person.

“Hello,” “baby pete” said in a very monotone drawl. That was not Brendon. Nothing about Brendon was monotone.

“Sorry,” Taylor said. “Wrong number.” She hung up quickly.

That would mean “fuckface” was Brendon.

“Hello!” Yeah, that was Brendon.

“Brendon, this is Taylor,” Taylor announced.

“Taylor who?” Brendon chirped. “Oh, hey, did you just call Ryan?”

“Ryan?” Not any Ryan she knew, but who knew who “baby pete” actually was - other than Frank. “Uh. Maybe. This is Taylor McKessie. From Albuquerque. We met last month, at, uh, Zinc. With Frank and Bob,” Taylor explained ineloquently.

“Oh! Taylor the Slayer!” Brendon squealed. Taylor pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment. “Ow!” Brendon declared, probably not to Taylor. “That hurt, you asshat!”

Taylor heard a monotone voice on the other end of the phone line and identified it as “baby pete.” That meant that “baby pete” was Ryan.

“May I ask as to why I am owed this pleasure?” Brendon asked overly sweetly.

“I’m really sorry if this question pries too much, but I need to know about Spokane,” Taylor asked, matching Brendon’s tone.

The line goes silent. Then, “It’s a city in eastern Washington.”

“Brendon?” Taylor asked.

“Why do you want to know about that?” His voice was stiff.

“Two of my friends are in, what I assume is, the same predicament,” she explained, digging her bare toes into the plush carpet of her bedroom.

“How did you find out about this?” Brendon asked slowly.

“Inference,” Taylor responded.

Brendon made an unhappy sound. “God.” It sounded muffled, like he said it with his hands over his face. “Okay,” he said clearly. “Let me talk to Spencer. I’ll call you back.”

He hung up before Taylor could respond.

That was not at all what Taylor expected.

- - -

Brendon didn’t call Taylor back until about twenty-four hours later, when she had delivered a brilliant round-house kick to Frank’s head.

Frank had gone to the kitchen for some ice, and he called back down to her that her phone was ringing. “It’s someone named Brendon! Hey, I didn’t know you have a friend named - ”

Taylor ran up the stairs fast enough to stop Frank before he figured out which Brendon was calling her. She was thankful she at least had the foresight to change his name from “fuckface.”

“Hey,” Taylor said once she snagged her phone from Frank.

“Where are you?” Brendon asked. He sounded out of breath.

“Frank and Bob’s,” Taylor responded with a frown. “Why?”

The doorbell rang. Oh.

Bob answered it. Taylor heard a war cry that sounded remarkably like Bob’s name, and a blur jumped onto his back. Apparently jumping onto Bob’s back was an Olympic sport.

“Get the fuck off him, Urie,” another guy demanded, grabbing Brendon’s hips and yanking him down. Well, Taylor assumed it was a guy. He had a deep voice, but damn, he looked like a girl. He even wore girl’s clothing. And his hips…“God, last time you did that he pulled a fucking knife on you.”

Taylor could feel Frank’s presence behind her, and she could definitely feel Bob’s ire.

“What. The. Fuck,” Bob growled.

Chad had even stopped sulking for the moment and wandered up from the basement to see what was going on. He eyed the two newcomers suspiciously, but upon seeing that neither of them were Ryan, wandered back down the stairs to sulk. Taylor was impressed he hadn’t made a run for it. He didn’t even try to make a run for it. He had reportedly tried that many times in the past day.

She also noticed that the other guy had tugged Brendon off of Bob and never released him, keeping an arm wrapped around Brendon’s waist.

Bob loomed over them, glowering and being generally unhappy. Frank had been quiet. And still.

Maybe Taylor had done the wrong thing when she called Brendon. Of course, she didn’t expect him and his friend, who may possibly be Spencer, to show up.

“Smith,” Bob growled.

“We were in Santa Fe,” said the one who wasn’t Brendon. He had a very prim tone: he was challenging Bob.

“Iero,” Bob growled.

“I didn’t do anything!” Frank protested.

“I did,” Taylor volunteered.

Brendon looked up the stairs and smiled brightly. “Taylor the Slayer!”

Bob and Frank did not seem pleased.

“How did you get his number?” Bob demanded.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Frank’s contact list,” she scoffed.

“How did you know it was Brendon you called?” Frank demanded, poking Taylor in the shoulder.

Taylor shrugged. “Who else would “fuckface” be?” she asked nonchalantly.

“You have me as “fuckface”!” Brendon shouted indignantly.

“Indoor voice,” said probably-Spencer and pulled him tighter. He looked unbelievably amused.

“It could have been Brian,” Frank grumbled feebly. “Or Mikey. Or Tyson.”

This was way too much drama for Taylor. God, boys. She rolled her eyes. “The point is they’re here now. So, you can point fingers, or we can help Chad and Ryan.” She planted her hands on her hips.

“What’s wrong with Ryan?” asked probably-Spencer. He frowned.

“Different Ryan,” Bob grunted.

“Are you going to invite us in, Bob Bryar?” Brendon asked cheekily.

Bob narrowed his eyes at Brendon. Taylor wasn’t sure if that was a vampire joke or not.

Probably-Spencer dragged Brendon up the stairs by his waist. He and Brendon made themselves at home on the couch. Brendon peered over his shoulder at the railing of the stairs.

“Who’s been kinky?” he asked brightly, pointing at the marks the handcuffs left on the railing.

“Brendon,” warned probably-Spencer.

“But Spencer!” Brendon whined to definitely-Spencer.

“No.” Spencer’s tone left no room for argument.

Taylor, Frank, and Bob sat down at the kitchen table, and there was a long stretch of exceedingly awkward silence. Taylor at least had the foresight to sit between Frank and Bob and Brendon and Spencer.

Spencer started. He voice was solemn, and his face was a challenge. “We lost Brent in Spokane. He… we had been in trouble before. It’s not like it was our first time or anything. Then, well, uh, Brent and I fell in love. But not really. We had been friends, sure, but it was different. We wanted to be with each other all the time. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, just that I needed to be with him.” Taylor read what Spencer said as “lust” not love. She respected that there was actually someone she knew who could be tactful. It was like it was some endangered species. She was keeping Spencer, even if he proved irredeemably useless, he still had tact. Of course having tact probably meant he was invaluable.

Brendon reached down and squeezed Spencer’s hand, keeping a hold on it when Spencer continued,

“Ryan was immediately suspicious. He’s like that.”

“I was too!” Brendon interjected.

Spencer gave Brendon a bitchy look. “Brendon was too. Mostly because he had a super-gay crush on me.”

“It was true love!” Brendon wailed.

“Shut up, fuckface,” Spencer told him icily. His expression was exasperated, not angry.

“Hey!” Brendon protested, squeezing Spencer’s hand hard.

Taylor snuck a look at Bob and Frank. They seemed interested in other things. Frank was particularly interested in the whorl patterns in the wood table, but his foot was tapping at double time. Bob stared at the window, not even out it.

“Brendon and Ryan didn’t think much of it until they realized we weren’t eating or drinking,” Spencer explained stoically. “Brent and I weren’t aware of it. We wouldn’t even leave our hotel room. Brendon called Patrick, who was able to put us - them in contact with Bob, Frank, Gerard, and Mikey, who luckily were in Seattle and could easily help us. We - Brent and I - didn’t realize how pathetic we had become. Not just keeping occupied with each other, but we lost significant muscle mass and looked like hell. Like those photos of people from concentration camps. That’s part of the spell, too.

“Gerard was the one who figured out what it was. They were removed from the situation, so they could see it objectively. Unlike fuckface here.” Spencer gave Brendon a withering look.

“Hey!” Brendon protested.

“Super-gay crush,” Spencer reminded him flatly. “There was only one coven in Spokane, so it was easy to find them. Except they weren’t the ones responsible; it was some gypsy who lived in one of the suburbs. The coven wasn’t happy with a gypsy on their turf, so they outed her. Then Bob was able to convince the gypsy to remove the spell.”

Taylor knew exactly how Bob convinced the gypsy. Bob was awesome at looming.

Instead of bringing up what became of Brent or why he and Spencer had been targeted, Taylor asked, “So how does this translate to Chad and Ryan?” It also beat asking if all witches like guys in love with each other. Because Taylor really didn’t want the answer to that question.

“Covens are territorial,” Spencer said slowly, challenging Brendon to say something. “They always know who’s up to what in other covens or, in this case, when a loner has come to town.”

Brendon took Spencer up on his challenge. “Good thing I’m here, huh, Bob?”

Bob’s expression was menacing.

“Will you be able to figure out who cast this?” Taylor wanted to know. She also wanted to keep Bob or Frank from saying something. Or attacking Brendon. Frank looked about ready to spring.

“Yeah. A rep from the coven will probably find us by the end of the day,” Brendon said nonchalantly. “Last time when I was here with Vicky-T, it was only a matter of hours, but there were two of us then.” Spencer gave Brendon a hard look. “Okay, one and a half.”

“You’re a witch?” Taylor asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the incredulity from her voice. She was, however, able to keep from laughing.

“Yeah!” Brendon said brightly. “Well, nearly a witch.”

Taylor turned to Spencer. “What are you, then?”

The look Frank gave her told her she should already know.

The look Spencer gave her would vaporize lead. “None of your business.”

“He’s adorable!” Brendon proclaimed. “I mean, look at that cute little button nose!” Brendon poked said button nose.

“Shut up, fuckface,” Spencer grumbled, swatting away Brendon’s hand. No wonder Bob and Frank hated them: it was like looking in a mirror.

Taylor looked over to Bob and Frank, who still had yet to break their silence.

Chad had wandered up the stairs to stare forlornly at Taylor.

“This is one of them?” Spencer asked, raising his chin defiantly.

“Yeah,” Taylor affirmed. “He’s been sulking since we separated him and Ryan.”

Chad visibly perked upon hearing Ryan’s name.

“Dude,” Brendon whistled. “That’s a hardcore spell. Someone paid a fuckton of money for that. Who would want to help them out to the point of hurting them? Or just hurt them?”

“I’m right here,” Chad said indignantly.

“That’s nice, Chad,” Taylor patronized. “Does Troy know you’re dating Ryan?” Because that sort of nice gesture without thoughts of repercussions read Troy all over.

“Yeah,” Chad said sulkily.

“Gabriella?” Taylor pressed.

“Of course,” Chad muttered.

“Sharpay?” Taylor continued.

Chad flinched. “Unfortunately.”

“Zeke?” Taylor asked, grasping at straws.

“He wouldn’t,” Chad said moodily.

“Help me out here, Chad,” Taylor said tightly.

“I don’t know,” Chad shrugged sadly.

“Who’s rich enough?” Taylor asked, switching tactics.

“The Evans twins,” Chad answered, bring the argument full circle.

“Does it have to be someone they know?” Taylor asked Brendon.

“It usually is,” Brendon affirmed, looking contrite. Taylor had no idea if that had to do with their current circumstance or a past one that probably happened in Spokane.

“Could the twins have done it?” Taylor asked Chad.

Chad shrugged uselessly.

“Not helping,” Taylor growled, then regained her composure. “Why did the gypsy do it?” she asked instead of choking Chad.

“Practice,” Spencer said, daring her to challenge him. Frank had said that lust was easier than love…

“Could that be the case here?” Taylor asked hopefully, still not willing to admit that someone who knew Chad and Ryan would do that to them.

“No,” Brendon said. “Someone with that much power wouldn’t need to practice.”

Not helpful.

“So it’s money motivated,” Taylor concluded. “That brings us back to the twins. Did either of them say anything to you, Chad? About anything that might have had to do with this spell?” she asked hoping for some fragment of a clue.

“No,” Chad stated. He looked down at his shoes.

“Think, Chad,” Taylor insisted. “Anything.”

“Sharpay threatened me, but that happens every day,” Chad recalled, still talking to his feet.

“What did you say to her?” Taylor pressed.

“That she was nuts,” Chad said. “That was when I was able to see Ryan. Can I see him now?”

“No,” Taylor said. “What did Sharpay say to your comment?”

“She scoffed at me. That’s it.” Chad paused, then finally looked up at Taylor. “Can I please see Ryan now?”

“No. Is that all?” Taylor felt as if she were pulling teeth. No, pulling teeth would have been easier. Teeth weren’t as stupid and stubborn as Chad.

“That’s all.” Chad spoke to his shoes again.

“This is going nowhere,” Frank huffed.

With an impending crisis, Taylor quickly said, “I’ll take Brendon and Spencer away. You two keep an eye on Chad.” Even though Taylor knew that keeping an eye on Chad translated into Frank’s language as torturing Chad.

- - -

The car ride was awkward. Spencer drove in steady silence while Taylor rode shotgun and Brendon hummed to himself in the backseat.

Taylor felt the need to break the silence, unfortunately she could only think of the inane. “What were you guys doing in Santa Fe?”

“Stuff,” Spencer said.

“Really?” Taylor asked incredulously. Then, “Why do Frank and Bob not like you?” Her curiousness would only be satisfied one way. And the tension back at their place still had the hair on the back of her neck on end.

“Brendon’s annoying,” Spencer supplied.

“Words hurt!” Brendon protested, leaning forward in his seat.

“Suck it up,” Spencer ordered.

“Why are you so mean to me, Spencer Smith?” Brendon honestly pouted as he asked this.

Not wanting to deal with whatever Spencer and Brendon did, Taylor decided to focus on the issue at hand, because someone had to. “If we were to find a public place, would a rep from the coven find you?”

Brendon hummed thoughtfully, “Yeah. Can it be some place with caffeine? I’ll take coffee!”

“The coffee shop’s the next block over on the right,” Taylor told Spencer, but that was apparently the wrong thing to say.

“Brendon, you’re not getting caffeine,” Spencer said resolutely.

“You’re so mean!” Brendon whined, dramatically slumping back on the seat with an arm thrown over his eyes.

“And yet you won’t leave,” Spencer pointed out, turning his head slightly to look at Brendon out of the corner of his eye.

Brendon brightened immediately. “True love!” he beamed.

Taylor flinched. In a strained voice, she said, “Can we please not talk about that until Chad and Ryan are better?”

She could feel Brendon staring at the back of her head. “Why? Is Chad or Ryan your boyfriend?” It wasn’t asked unkindly, but it was still a sore spot with Taylor. She thought that by now it wouldn’t be as bad as it was. It had gone from a gaping wound to a sore spot in two months. It could have been worse, she supposed, but Brendon had no idea.

“Chad’s my ex,” she said as nonchalantly as she could. It only came out slightly thready.

“Oh,” Brendon said. “I’m sorry. I usually don’t think before I speak. You can ask Spencer. I totally run at the mouth, like, all the time. It’s - ”

“Shut up, Brendon,” Spencer interrupted sharply.

“It’s alright,” Taylor explained. “Chad and Ryan have been dating for the past month. It’s nothing new.”

“I’m sorry,” Brendon repeated.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taylor said with more indifference than she felt. “Coffee shop’s right there.” Taylor pointed. “You can park on the street.”

Spencer did a very good job parallel parking. Brendon was very enthusiastic about it.

“I need to call Ryan,” Taylor said, taking her cell phone out of her purse. “I’ll meet you two inside.”

Spencer nodded and dragged Brendon inside as Taylor dialed Ryan.

“Hello?” Ryan said dejectedly into the phone.

“Ryan?” Taylor asked gently.

“Mmmm?” Ryan then brightened. “Is Chad with you?! I can speak with him?!”

“No,” Taylor said. “He’s not with me.”

“Oh.” Ryan sounded absolutely crestfallen.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” she explained. She looked in the front window of the coffee shop to watch Spencer and Brendon bantering about something. Probably the limits of Brendon’s caffeine intake.

“I miss Chad,” Ryan admitted sadly.

“I know, honey,” Taylor empathized. “But you’ll see him soon.”

“Oh. Okay,” Ryan said in a small voice.

“I’ll see you later, okay, Ryan?” she said.

“Okay,” Ryan echoed.

Taylor hung up and went inside to grab something iced and chocolaty. She ended up with an iced mocha and a frazzled barista. She supposed that was what happened when she ordered after Spencer and Brendon, and Taylor had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t the barista’s fault they were out of chocolate syrup.

She sat down at the table Brendon and Spencer had staked out, sipping at her drink.

“So you’re the Slayer,” Spencer said, looking Taylor over critically.

“Yeah,” Taylor said, unable to keep the challenge completely from her voice.

“And Frank’s your Watcher,” Spencer continued.

Taylor had no idea where this was going. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” Spencer said. He glanced at Brendon, who was trying to gulp down his coffee - Taylor assumed it was coffee - but kept finding it too hot, so he aborted his gulp, thought better of it, and tried again. It was like watching a bird try to figure out a reflection.

“Why?” Taylor demanded, sick of playing guessing games.

“And Bob?” Spencer continued. He had yet to break eye contact with her.

“Watches Frank,” Taylor said, letting her exasperation show. “Shouldn’t you know this?”

Spencer shrugged.

“I know this!” Brendon exclaimed, giving up on his coffee for a moment.

“Yes,” Taylor said patiently. “I know you know.”

“Taylor the Slayer!” Brendon crowed.

“This is why he isn’t allowed caffeine,” Spencer said wryly.

“I haven’t even had any yet!” Brendon protested. “God, I’m not that bad.”

“You really are,” Spencer said, but he was smirking.

“But you love me anyway.” Brendon smiled brightly.

“God,” Spencer scoffed. “Shut up, Brendon.”

A girl walked over to their table and gawked at Brendon. She couldn’t have been older than thirteen, and she had an uncanny likeness to Wednesday Addams.

“Why are you here?” she said in a deadpan rivaling Daria Morgendorffer. She didn’t have the Doc Martens to pull it off, though.

“Hi!” Brendon chirped. “Take me to your leader.” He gave her a dazzling smile.

She blinked heavily at him. “What?”

Spencer pinched Brendon’s arm. Brendon hissed and rubbed at the tender spot, pouting at Spencer. Spencer rolled his eyes. “He means we need to speak to all of you,” he clarified.

“All of us.” It was really freaky how little inflection there was in her voice.

“I need to help my friends,” Taylor jumped in. “I would be indebted to you.”

“Why would that matter?” the girl asked, looking Taylor over curiously.

“She’s the Slayer,” Brendon said helpfully.

“The what?” Why would Brendon expect this girl to know what that meant?

“She kills vampires for a living,” Brendon explained, winking at her.

The girl flushed slightly. “Oh. I guess that would be cool,” she said quietly. “I’ll call them.”

“You have a cell phone?” Taylor blurted. Who gives a thirteen-year-old a cell phone?

“Yeah,” the girl scoffed, showing her first sign of emotion. “What did you expect me to use? A scrying crystal?”

Taylor stared at her, stunned.

“God, adults are so stupid,” the girl muttered as she walked back to her table.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Brendon laughed.

“My mother would never have allowed me a cell phone when I was thirteen,” Taylor grumbled.

“Being an adult is hard,” Brendon said sagely.

Taylor opened her mouth to say something scathing, but the girl returned.

“They say you can meet with them tonight,” she said, then turned away.

“Where?” Taylor called after her. “When?”

She didn’t answer. Spencer answered instead. “University of Albuquerque campus. The art lounge. At seven.”

Taylor looked to Spencer, her mouth hanging open slightly. Her mouth dropped even more when she realized that his eyes were all white: the iris and pupil were gone.

She may have gasped unattractively.

Brendon leaned over and kissed Spencer sloppily on the cheek. Spencer blinked and his eyes returned to normal.

“You’re a seer,” Taylor accused. A million questions popped into her head. Approximately half of them had to do with events that occurred in Spokane. She didn’t ask any of them.

Spencer gave her an amused look.

Taylor flushed, embarrassed by her unseemly behavior.

“He’s not quite a seer,” Brendon said carefully. “It’s more complicated than that.” It always was.

Neither Spencer nor Brendon elaborated. Taylor let it drop. That wasn’t the matter at hand.

Instead of pursuing it, Taylor called Frank to update him on their progress.

- - -

Whenever Taylor was close to closing a case, as she called it, there was always a bravado showdown. Like in the comic books Chad and Gerard (on separate occasions) had made her read. The good guys and the bad guys always engaged in witty banter in an intense game of one-upmanship. Taylor just found it an annoying delay of the inevitable.

“How do you think you can help us?” the leader of the coven asked. She leaned back on the couch she had all to herself. The rest of her coven was spread out on furniture and the floor, but every single one of them made sure she could see Brendon. Not a single one of them was over the age of thirty, the youngest being the Wednesday Addams lookalike.

Taylor stood in the center, painfully aware that her back was exposed even though Brendon and Spencer stood behind her.

“I slay vamps,” Taylor answered blandly. “Therefore, I will be able to offer protection if there is a problem. Or insurance that there won’t be a problem. However, I can’t be thirteen places at once.” She made sure to make eye contact with all thirteen of the witches. “How do you think you can help me?”

The leader looked at her condescendingly. “We know who wants your friends’ lifeblood.”

“Blood?” Taylor demanded. Was there some sort of vampire witch Frank had neglected to tell her about?

“The draining of life is followed by the draining of blood,” the leader explained in that same condescending tone.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Taylor blurted.

“It doesn’t have to,” the leader said. Right: magic.

“Who’s doing this?” Taylor asked, losing her grip on her composure. She hated playing games, especially when her friends were in trouble.

“First,” the leader said, displaying her pointer finger, “you will slay for us.”

“No,” Taylor said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t work that way. You do this for me, I do something for you. If you want proof of the slaying, I stopped the Camisado.”

“We’re aware of that,” the leader said.

Taylor scowled deeply. “Then there should be no reason for a test. You should know I’m legit.”

“We must confer,” the leader said. The other twelve witches flocked around her. Brendon and Spencer moved to flag each side of Taylor.

Before the girls broke up their conference, Brendon spoke up. “Look, this is not about honoring some deal. This is about saving Taylor’s friends. You could make the difference between life and death. If you draw this out, dawdle through your proceedings, her friends could die. These are friends who help her slay, if you must know, so you would be helping yourselves as well as her.” Taylor had a bit of difficulty connecting this Brendon to the one who DJed Disney songs. Not that she was complaining.

The leader looked as if she were trying to burn a hole through Brendon’s skull. She turned the same expression on Taylor. “Fine, but the nearly witch stays out of this.”

“Done,” Taylor agreed.

“Hey!” Brendon protested.

“Deal with it,” Spencer said under his breath.

“It’s not one of us,” the leader said. “It is one from West High School. A baseball player commissioned it. You must speak to a woman by the name of Cassadee at the apothecary on Yale Boulevard. We have upheld our part of the bargain.”

Taylor nodded. “Thank you. Give me a call whenever you need slayage.”

She and Spencer lead Brendon from the room before the coven demanded more.

- - -

“Are all covens like that?” Taylor asked as Spencer drove them downtown.

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “That’s why I prefer to work on my own.”

“On your own,” Spencer snorted. “So you don’t travel around with me, Ryan, and B- ” He cut himself off. Taylor assumed he was going to say Brent. How long ago had Spokane happened?

“You are a part of me, Spencer Smith!” Brendon declared. “And Ryan went up to Chicago to help Pete out with a problem with one of his friends. So it’s just you and me.”

“And Victoria?” Spencer asked dryly.

“She only trained me,” Brendon said softly. His voice lacked its earlier playfulness. “I love you, Spencer Smith,” he said earnestly.

Spencer didn’t say anything in return, and Taylor had never felt so uncomfortable being the third wheel. She never felt like this when Frank or Bob decided to cuddle - okay, when Frank decided to cuddle Bob - or when Ryan and Chad had announced they were dating.

God, Taylor was becoming a faghag.

- - -

The apothecary was still open when they arrived, but it was set to close in five minutes.

Spencer parked on the street but stayed in the car, claiming plausible deniability should Brendon do something stupid. Taylor shrugged, and she and Brendon went into the boutique.

A girl in her late teens, not much older than Taylor, stood behind the counter reading the latest edition of Cosmo. She looked up at Taylor and Brendon and then back down to her magazine. “You have five minutes.”

“She’s a pleasant one,” Brendon said in a stage whisper.

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked, still not looking up from her magazine.

“We want you to remove a spell you cast,” Taylor said.

“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the clerk said.

“I think you do, Cassadee,” Brendon said, crossing his arms.

“How do you know my name?” Cassadee asked suspiciously.

“The same way we know you cast a love spell on Chad Danforth and Ryan Evans,” Taylor said, matching Brendon’s firm tone. “The same way we know it was commissioned by a baseball player at West.”

“Guys, there’s no such thing as magic,” Cassadee said lightly.

Taylor raised her eyebrows and looked to Brendon. “This is bullshit,” Taylor declared. “We really don’t have time for you to lead us around by the noses. So remove the damn spell.” During the course of her declaration, she had moved behind the counter and into Cassadee’s space.

“No,” Cassadee said firmly. “He paid a lot of money for that spell.”

“So you admit it,” Brendon said, standing back to give Taylor room to work - or to give himself the same.

“Of course. It’s a powerful spell. I’m proud of it,” Cassadee said.

“Remove it,” Taylor demanded. Her voice sank an octave, and her eyes narrowed into slits.

“Or what?” Cassadee sneered. “Your girlfriend will cast a spell on me?” She laughed. “He’s not even a fully fledged witch.” God, Taylor already was a faghag.

“No,” Taylor said, very calmly. “Do you know who I am?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cassadee said.

“I’m the Slayer,” Taylor said.

“So?” Cassadee crossed her arms over her chest and gave Taylor a flippant expression.

“Instead of killing the vampires, I could very well lead them to your store,” Taylor threatened. It wasn’t that dire of a threat, but she couldn’t think of anything else short of beating Cassadee up. And that wouldn’t help remove the spell. And violence was never the answer.

Cassadee did look properly terrified, though.

“I thought so,” Taylor said triumphantly. “Now remove the spell.”

Cassadee nodded mutely. She locked the door and flipped the open sign to closed. She then gathered materials that Brendon confirmed were necessary for the removal of the spell. They ended up in the back room.

Taylor had never seen magic preformed - true magic - so it was an experience to watch.

After she finished, Cassadee said sullenly, “There, it’s done.”

“We thank you,” Taylor said. “Brendon, please call Bob to make sure she’s telling the truth.”

Brendon did so. He spoke to Bob in a professional tone, except after he said “thanks,” Brendon concluded with “kiss, kiss!” Taylor could hear Bob’s growl over the phone from across the room.

“It’s removed,” Brendon declared.

“I told you,” Cassadee said.

“Thanks,” Taylor said earnestly. “Did the baseball player say why he wanted the spell?”

Cassadee glared at her but answered. “He wanted Chad Danforth out of the running so West would win states this year. Revenge for their slaughter in the final game last year.”

“Wow,” she said, awed. “That’s really petty. But why a love spell?”

“He’s homophobic and wanted to show how depraved it is,” Cassadee said emotionlessly.

Okay, Taylor had lied: violence was totally the answer. “What?!” she exploded. “That’s - I’m going to snap that bastard’s neck! And you just - ”

Brendon placed a hand on Taylor’s forearm. “Down, Taylor.”

“We’re leaving now,” Taylor announced, drawing Brendon away.

- - -

“Where to?” Spencer asked when Taylor and Brendon returned.

Brendon yanked Spencer out of the driver’s seat and kissed him full on. Spencer looked very surprised. Hell, Taylor would have been surprised if someone hauled her out of a car and kissed her. Except Spencer was supposedly a seer.

Spencer pushed Brendon away. “What the fuck!” he demanded. “We’re working.”

Brendon looked down, his eyes settling somewhere around Spencer’s chest. “I love you, Spencer Smith.”

“I know, fuckface, now get your ass in the fucking car so we can go.” Spencer pointed to the car.

Brendon climbed solemnly into the back.

Spencer looked to Taylor worriedly.

“The spell was commissioned by a homophobe who wanted Chad to suffer because he had a boyfriend,” Taylor explained stonily. “So we’re going to kick his ass.”

Spencer nodded curtly, then opened the back door, He leaned over Brendon. “I love you, too, fuckface.” He kissed Brendon on the cheek. “Now let’s go kick some ass.”

- - -

It wasn’t difficult for Taylor to figure out who had paid for the spell. He had given Chad hell throughout the year. He was some rich kid accustomed to always getting what he wanted.

And Taylor knew where he lived.

She rang the doorbell of his house with Brendon and Spencer behind her like some mafia hit team.

The jock in question opened the door and frowned.

“Hi, Justin.” Taylor grinned, showing as many teeth as possible.

“What?” he barked.

Taylor punched him in the nose, hearing the satisfying crack.

“Stay the fuck away from Chad and Ryan,” she growled.

Blood poured from Justin’s nose as he clasped at it. “Whab ba duck?”

“You might want to see a doctor to have your nose set,” she said coldly. “Let’s go, boys.”

“I could give him a venereal disease,” Brendon offered, eyeing Justin clutch his face.

“No, a broken nose is enough. I’m sure he already has herpes,” Taylor said, turning away.

Justin made a grab for her. Taylor saw the movement out of the corner of her eye and ducked to avoid his grasp, sweeping his legs out from under him. They always tried to take a cheap shot to surprise her. So far the only one to succeed thus far was Bob. Taylor wanted to keep it that way.

She snorted down at him before leaving with Brendon and Spencer, who were both grinning broadly.

- - -

She thanked Brendon and Spencer when they dropped her off at the Evans’s. She received a hug from both of them and asked if they wanted to at least stay the night. They had declined, explaining that they needed to head to Chicago to help out their own Ryan. Something about a rogue reflection…

She watched them drive off before ringing the doorbell.

Sharpay opened it. “Good,” she said. “Make him stop sulking. Or at least eat something. He won’t even listen to me, and his hat doesn’t match his pants.” She shoved Taylor into the house.

“Hey, Ryan!” Taylor called from the front hallway. “I have your keys.”

Ryan emerged from the other room quickly but trying his best to look nonchalant. As if he hadn’t run to the doorway, then sauntered into the hallway.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, still trying to sound casually.

Taylor smirked, and Sharpay looked horribly put upon. Taylor wasn’t sure if it was because she had taken orders from Taylor or if Taylor had snapped Ryan out of his funk, not her.

“You’re not going out in public like that,” Sharpay said. “Go change your hat. That one Mother gave you last Christmas.”

Ryan took his hat off his head to examine exactly what made it so offensive. He looked at it in horror and then took off, presumably to change it.

“What would he do without me?” Sharpay asked but not Taylor. Taylor figured she was talking to herself. Sharpay cocked her head to the side.

“Clash,” Taylor said dryly.

Sharpay turned to her and wrinkled her nose. Taylor had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Maybe Sharpay thought it looked indignant.

Ryan returned and practically dragged Taylor out the door.

She handed Ryan back his keys. “How’re you feeling?”

“Foolish,” Ryan said disdainfully as he climbed into the driver’s side of his car. Taylor hopped into the passenger’s seat.

“No side effects?” Taylor asked, concerned.

“Not that I know of,” Ryan said softly. Then, “Sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Taylor said, patting Ryan’s knee as they tore out of the Evan’s driveway.

“What was it?” Ryan asked.

“There was a love spell cast on you and Chad,” Taylor said stiffly removing her hand from Ryan.

Ryan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “A love spell?”

“More like a lust spell,” Taylor muttered.

Ryan grumbled in the back of his throat. “Why?” he asked resignedly, as if trying to get the inevitable over with.

“I’ll tell you and Chad at the same time,” Taylor said. She didn’t want to say this twice, especially with Ryan driving.

Ryan accepted that answer with more grumbling.

- - -

The car was barely in park outside of Frank and Bob’s duplex before Ryan rushed out. Ryan pounded on the front door before Frank yanked it open, frowning.

“Is Chad still here?” Ryan asked breathlessly.

“It’s almost midnight, Pretty Boy,” Frank said.

Taylor appeared behind Ryan. “Let him in, Frank,” she said, rolling her eyes as she pushed passed both of them.

Ryan smirked and almost collided with Chad in his haste to enter.

Taylor stared at them as they stared at each other, and then, like magnets, they collided with each other whispering things that Taylor and Frank shouldn’t overhear. Speaking of which, Bob was notably absent, and it was his night off from Zinc.

Taylor averted her eyes from Chad and Ryan to see Bob had quietly descended the stairs, and his shirt was on backwards. Taylor frowned and looked to Frank for clarification, noticing the odd angles at which his hair stood.

Taylor sighed and took a deep breath to prevent her from saying something that really wouldn’t matter in the long run. Because, could two grown men control their libidos enough to babysit someone under a love spell? Was that too much to ask for?

Chad and Ryan had moved to the couch, whispering fiercely to each other, and Taylor was not about to answer any questions that would be directed her way.

She sat down at the kitchen table, and Frank and Bob followed her.

“The good news is I found the coven,” Taylor said. “The bad news is I’m in their debt.” She recounted her very full evening from the coven to meeting Cassadee as Frank and Bob listened if only slightly distracted by each other. Bob nodded in approval when Taylor quietly explained why the spell had been cast and how she had dealt with the boy who commissioned it. Frank whopped, gaining the attention of Chad and Ryan.

“What?” Chad asked curiously.

“Taylor broke a guy’s nose,” Frank giggled.

“What? Why?” Chad asked, even more baffled.

“He was a homophobic jerk,” Taylor mumbled. She really didn’t want to deal with Chad and Ryan. Not about this. Not past midnight. Not with the day she had had.

“You’re kinda awesome, Tay,” Chad said fondly, and he went back to conferring with Ryan.

And that was that. Until the next time. When Chad and Ryan really wanted to know all the details about Taylor kicking butt and taking names, but that wasn’t that night. They also wanted to help her out with her new case: Chad and Ryan had never met a ghost before.

An Ending

What, you ask, is going on in Chicago? Check it out here, because they have a big mess on their hands. Where, you ask, is Jon? You’re just going to have to wait until next time. It’s Sharpay’s turn. *grins*

I posted some Gerard and Ray backstory here.

Here's the Spencer/Brendon backstory from Spokane.

I’m not as sure about this fic as I was its predecessor. I think I’m just wary because it’s the first complete HSM fic I haven’t written from Chad’s point of view.