The Chosen - S8 Logo

[ Main Page | Episodes | Characters | Synopsis | FAQ ]
[ Forum | Polls | E-Mail | Mailing List | Links ]


Kennedy was clearly very comfortable driving the SUV. She leaned back in her seat as her fingers drummed rhythmically against the steering wheel. She was sporting an expensive pair of oval wrap Ray-Bans. Next to her, Tara pored over a map. Her less fashionable and much cheaper sunglasses had been pushed up into her hair.

"We'll stay on I-86 north for about 25 miles ..." the blonde told her.

"Uh-huh," replied Kennedy, not bothering to disguise the boredom.

"... then I-390 north for about 60 ..." the instructions continued.

"Uh-huh," sighed Kennedy.

"... then I-90 west for—"

"At what point do you stop that?" Kennedy interrupted abruptly.

Tara glanced in her direction. "What?"

Leaning over, Kennedy ripped the map from Tara's hands and tossed it into the back seat. Then, as an afterthought, she grabbed the rest of the maps out of Tara's lap and sent them all sailing after their companion.

The blonde frowned. "You could've just asked me to stop."

"Less satisfying."

Tara arched an elegant eyebrow. "That's a matter of opinion."

"Look," replied the Slayer with as much patience as she could muster, "as you so generously pointed out, we're driving this way—" She made a cutting motion toward the road in front of her, "—for at least an hour. So right now, I'm just gonna worry about this way. We'll worry about that way when it's that way's turn."

Tara stared at Kennedy's profile for a moment. "Fine."

"Fine," came the terse confirmation.

Slipping the sunglasses over her eyes, Tara began to stare out of the window as a tense silence invaded the vehicle. At regular intervals, Kennedy threw her a glance, intent on studying the blonde.

"Now who's being irritating?" asked Tara.

"I'm just trying to figure out your deal," replied Kennedy.

"My ... 'deal'?"

"Yeah," the brunette nodded emphatically. "We haven't really made the time to hang out."

"Imagine that," Tara muttered.

Kennedy ignored the sarcastic jab. "So now we're both here and I've got nothing better to do for the next 16 hours ..."

"You can not stare at me for the next 16 hours," Tara informed her.

"Oh I so could," the Slayer replied in a meaningful tone, followed by a grin that was only slightly teasing.

Arching an eyebrow, Tara turned and regarded Kennedy severely from over the top of her sunglasses.

Kennedy shrugged, sounding extremely amused. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty face."

Tara was obliged to smirk in return, both at that remark and at Kennedy's brazenness for giving it voice. Her posture relaxed then – not much, but enough to make things blissfully less tense.

"So yeah," pressed the brunette. "Your deal. What's with it?"

With a tiny frown, Tara asked, "How do you even answer a question like that?"

"Damned if I know," admitted Kennedy blithely. "Seriously, though. I heard a lot about you when you were dead and stuff."

That gave Tara pause and she seemed surprised. "You ... You heard about me? What about me?"

Kennedy rolled her eyes, the gesture obvious even behind the dark glasses. "Oh, you know ... 'Tara's was just the kindest, sweetest, bestest, generousested—'"

"I'm pretty sure those last two aren't words," Tara corrected with a chuckle.

Kennedy appeared well aware of that fact. "Yeah, well, I paraphrase."

Taking a moment to absorb this new information, the blonde ventured her next question self-consciously. "Willow talked about me?"

"Oh, no, not Will," the brunette quickly dismissed. A momentary pang of rejection flashed in Tara's face, but Kennedy caught it and frowned at how her statement must have sounded. "I didn't mean it like that," she promptly clarified. "She just ... Whenever your name came up, she'd change the subject. I guess it hurt too much."

Tara nodded in acknowledgment but her face plainly indicated that the observation still carried something of a sting.

"But Dawn, Buffy, Dawn, Xander, Dawn ..." continued Kennedy with a heavy sigh.

The Slayer smirked at Tara's chuckle. "I'm not that great," the blonde assured. "I guess it's just easier to only remember the good stuff when someone ... leaves. The bad stuff suddenly seems less important, you know?"

"I guess that makes sense," Kennedy conceded after some thought.

"So," the witch ventured, clearly looking for a topic change, "what's your 'deal'?" She turned to Kennedy and waited expectantly.

All she received was a shrug, however. "I'm pretty deal-less."

Tara shook her head, negating the response. "I find that hard to believe. You were with ... with Willow for almost a year, right? So there's gotta be a deal."

"If there was, it obviously wasn't enough, was it?" rejoined Kennedy sharply. She paused. "Okay, that came out more bitter than I meant." She glanced over at the frowning Tara and attempted to explain. "You won. So obviously whatever there might've been about me, it wasn't enough. I still lost."

Tara seemed confused. "This hasn't been about winning and losing."

"That's easy to say when you're sleeping with the prize every night," scoffed Kennedy with some resentment.

The furrows on Tara's brow grew more intense. "We're not—" She brought herself up short, continuing with, "And anyway, Willow's not just some- some kewpie doll you win at a carnival."

Kennedy was in total agreement. "You're right, she's the big-ass stuffed animal that costs three bucks to produce and you spend forty to win."

There was a hushed silence.

"That sounds ... really insulting," observed Tara.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" remarked the Slayer with an expression of disapproval at her parallel.

Shaking her head, Tara pressed onward. "Anyway, I didn't 'beat' you, Kennedy. It wasn't a contest."

Kennedy's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "No, see, it was," she stated, allowing a touch of her anger to slip back into her voice. "And that's what gets me, because you won and you didn't even want to play."

Easily meeting the Slayer's challenging look, Tara wore a dark frown of her own. "You have no idea what I want," she told Kennedy. The witch then swiveled in her seat and crossed her arms, concentrated solely on the scenery outside. The gesture spoke volumes - including 'end of conversation'.

Kennedy audibly puffed. "Oh yeah," she muttered under her breath. "This is gonna be real fun. Good job, Kenn."

"B! Hey, B!" called Faith as she jogged across the street to catch up with the blonde.

Buffy turned at the sound of her name and nodded in greeting.

Fortunately, they were in a suburban neighborhood with relatively sparse traffic, so Faith's reckless sprint from one side of the road to the other held no threat to either pedestrian or prospective driver.

Buffy watched her approach. "Hey Faith. What's up?"

"Just on my way over to see you," Faith replied.

"Oh, cool. Well ... here I am!" grinned Buffy. "Heading to Slayer Central, actually. I've got a class in ..." she checked her wristwatch, "... about twenty minutes. Walk with me?"

The dark-haired Slayer fell into step.

"So, why the sudden urge to see lil' ol' me?" queried the blonde curiously. "Besides the mere presence of lil' ol' me, that is." She threw Faith a sideways glance.

"I wanted to ask you something," Faith confided. "I got this little problem."

"Buffy Summers, Problem Solver, reporting for duty," was the prompt response.

Faith lit a cigarette and blew a thoughtful smoke ring. "Well, it's not me so much. It's Haze."

"That's okay, I freelance," Buffy reassured. "This about the thing from earlier?"

"Yeah. She just found out her parents are gettin' divorced," Faith informed without preamble.

Buffy winced. "Oh, wow. Ouch."

"Yeah, apparently so," agreed Faith. "She's really bummed about it."

The blonde's expression revealed her understanding. "It's not easy. She's ... sixteen?" Faith delivered a curt nod. "Déjà vu," she mused.

Relieved, Faith turned to her walking companion. "See, that's why I figured you could help. She's thinking it's her fault."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy clearly commiserated. "Very much not the surprise."

"But that's crap, right?" insisted Faith.

"Pretty much," replied Buffy. "It's never just one thing. To get to that point, it's a lot of stuff over time."

Pleased that she'd gotten this much confirmation, Faith asked expectantly, "Okay, so how do I get her to figure that out too?"

"Feel free to quote me," offered the blonde Slayer. "Plagiarize away."

This clearly wasn't the answer Faith was looking for. "Not like that," she dismissed with a shake of her head. "They're just words, they don't mean crap."

"Thanks so much," stated Buffy sardonically.

"No, I mean ... I'm not so good with words, y'know?"

"You're talking to me okay," pointed out Buffy. "Sorta," she added, after replaying their last few exchanges in her head.

Flicking the ashes off the end of her cigarette, Faith frowned. "Haze is different. She's just a kid. I can be straight with you."

"You can't be straight with Hazel?"

Somewhat angrily, Faith shook her head. "Tried that, ended up with my foot in my mouth."

"Huh." Buffy looked pensive. "I wonder where they came up with that. Putting your foot in your mouth. Besides the incredible flexibility necessary, I can't imagine it'd taste very good." She glanced toward Faith to seek her opinion, and was met with an expression that very clearly said 'what the hell are you talking about?' The Slayer cleared her throat. "Sorry. Mind. Wonder. Wander. Anyway, yes?"

Faith pressed on. "So what can I do? What did you do?"

Giving the question due consideration, Buffy pondered deeply before replying. "Mostly cried a lot. Killed a few things. On reflection, neither was very satisfying."

Not yet willing to give up, Faith tried a different line of thought. "Okay, so what'd you do for Kid Sis?"

"Told her to stay the hell out of my room," the blonde replied automatically. "But that was pretty much normal. Uhm ..." Her face lit up in a flash of inspiration. "Oh! One night we had a 'Friends' marathon."

"I hate 'Friends'," grumbled Faith.

"You probably shouldn't do that, then," Buffy advised.

They came to a halt at the front steps of Slayer Central. Checking her watch, Buffy turned to Faith with an apologetic look. "I gotta run. I wish there was some sort of magic phrase I could tell you that makes everything better, but the truth is, there isn't anything."

"Feelin' much better now," Faith told her flatly. "Thanks, B."

Buffy paused before entering the building. "The only thing that helped me was time. That, and an increasing feeling of abandonment by and resentment for my father." Her mood appeared to grow more contemplative. "I think hatred and anger is the best medicine for being sad."

"Nice," remarked Faith with a touch of sarcasm as she flicked her cigarette into the nearby bushes. "An' what's your lesson about today?" she inquired, seeming to already know the answer.

The blonde puffed out her chest a little. "Emotional clarity in the face of hardship. Which I must now get to. I'll catch you later!"

Faith watched Buffy take the steps two at a time and disappear into the building. "I don't even really know what irony is," she muttered to herself, "but I'm pretty sure that was it."

Jamming her hands into her pockets, she shook her head with frustration and then continued on her way.

Xander and Willow weaved through the heavy pedestrian traffic of downtown Trillium, the redhead listening intently to Xander as he ranted quite vehemently.

"Underbid." He paused and then reiterated, "Underbid. I think that's my new least favourite word in the entire English language. And possibly some foreign languages too. You know 'eunoia' and 'farfignugen'? 'Underbid' sucks more'n both of those. Stupid companies."

"Yeah," agreed Willow with as much sympathetic indignity as she could reasonably pretend to possess. "How dare they go with someone who was gonna charge 'em less?"

"What do they think this is, a capitalist society?" Xander continued without missing a beat.

"What were you gonna build for 'em, anyway?" asked Willow.

The carpenter shrugged. "Oh, it was some basic renovations. Any monkey can do it, really," he admitted.

"And apparently cheaper," Willow added cheerfully.

His anger spent, Xander sighed and got to work replacing it with bitterness. "It wasn't even so much that I wanted the job," he complained, "as I wanted the money that came with the job."

"How much more do you have to save?" queried the redhead.

"A bit," Xander told her. "Not a big bit, but a bit." He shrugged. "There's only so much going on in Trillium though, you know? My wells are dryin' up."

"The Internet's the way to go," Willow informed him firmly. "I've been tellin' you that for months."

"I know, I know," he acknowledged. "But then there's all the scariness of legal documents and tax laws and my god, I still collect comic books. I'm not ready to be an adult, let alone a business owner."

Shaking her head, Willow empathically denied his statement. "Pshaw! Phooey!" she spat.

"And my arguments completely crumble under the weight of your decisive retorts."

The redhead prodded his arm. "It's your fear talking."

"It's not talking so much as yelling," Xander corrected. "Screaming aloud. Hollering, if you will."

Disapproval poured from the redhead in waves. "You're just a ... a big 'fraidy cat!"

"Oh, and you're one to talk," accused Xander.

Willow let out an indignant sniff. "We're not talking about me."

"Wouldja like to?" queried Xander, treating the redhead to a penetrating sideways glance.

"No, not especially," she faltered.

"Okay then." Xander's tone was definite. "Ix-nay on the aidycat-fray."

"What if she never comes back?" Willow suddenly blurted out.

Xander blinked in surprise at this abrupt change of topic. "I thought you didn't wanna talk about it?"

"I don't," the redhead informed him firmly.

"Okay."

"But what if she doesn't?" repeated Willow, wringing her hands together as she shot Xander a worried glance.

Smiling, Xander threw an arm around the witch's shoulders and gave them a comforting shake. "Will, Tara's gonna come back. She has to. All her stuff's here," he grinned down at her.

Weakly, Willow returned the grin before nodding affirmatively. "A-And besides," she stated with the tiniest amount of conviction, "she'll come back because..." She wracked her brain for some justification and, in a stronger voice, continued, "Because yeah, okay, things are kinda hard right now, but there's her, and there's me, and there's her and me, and if you put her and me together, you get an 'us', and there's the goodness of us. Which, yes, was interrupted there, briefly, by some badness of us, but ... uhm ..." Her voice trailed away as her mind stopped supplying adequate ammunition.

Luckily, Xander was there to pick up the slack. "You're a very attractive woman," he prompted.

"I'm a very attractive woman!" confirmed the redhead, puffing herself up.

"With oodles of love in her heart," Xander reminded her.

"Overflowing with love!" she readily agreed.

"And anyone would be lucky to have you," added Xander crisply.

"So lucky to have me!" Willow quickly concurred. "Super lucky! Powerball lucky!"

Xander was in total accord. "Well there you go, see?"

The witch's posture deflated and her face fell. "But what if she doesn't come back?"

With a huge sigh, Xander hugged Willow tightly as they walked along. "How could she resist this craziness?" he wondered aloud.

With a small chuckle, the redhead curled an arm around Xander's waist and squeezed tight.

"You know what you need?" asked Xander, not bothering to wait for a response. "Some feeling better."

Slowly, Willow shook her head. "Not really likely," she pouted.

The two continued down the street, neither paying much attention to anything besides their conversation, which was carried back on the cool breeze.

"I bet I can do it," challenged Xander.

Willow arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? How?"

The strains of dialogue were easily audible, even from as far away as the rooftop across the street from where the pair walked. A figure stood watching their every move, but making no attempts to interact with them directly. Content for the moment to simply watch and listen.

"It'll be a surprise," the carpenter declared.

As she crept toward the edge of the roof, Judith's eyes continued to focus upon the pair below.

"Ooo, I like surprises," enthused Willow.

Judith grinned.

At the Scoobies' house, a somewhat tentative Faith stuck her head around the front door.

"Xander?" came Willow's query from the living room.

Closing the door behind her, Faith made her way toward the owner of the voice. "S'me," she announced unceremoniously.

Willow looked up expectantly from her position on the floor where she had been peering beneath the couch. "Oh. Hey. This is a surprise."

The dark-haired Slayer gestured toward the redhead, who was on her hands and knees. "I interrupting somethin'?" she inquired curiously.

"What?" asked Willow with a frown and then appeared to suddenly realized the picture she was presenting. "Oh! No. I was just looking for my laptop."

Faith's eyebrows twitched slightly but her response was smooth. "Gone missing?"

Sitting back on her ankles, a perplexed crease invaded Willow's forehead. "Yeah. It's weird," she admitted slowly. "I know I had it last night. Remember?"

"Ahh, yeah," agreed Faith with a vague nod.

"But now I can't find it," continued the witch. "I've looked everywhere ..." Her eyes widened. "I bet someone took it!"

She seriously pondered the possibility. Shuffling, Faith seemed about to say something but the instant she opened her mouth, Willow thrust an accusing finger in her direction.

"I bet it was Dawn! Oo, she just can't keep her hands off my precious."

"Dawn?" questioned Faith dubiously, before latching onto the suggestion. "Oh, yeah, I totally bet it was her. She has that whole klepto thing goin', right?"

Willow wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "Though I guess Tara might've taken it."

"I'm sure it was someone like that," Faith was quick to assure. "Probably turn up tomorrow or somethin', right where you left it."

The redhead's expression became grouchy. "It better, or someone's gonna find themselves with a nasty curse. I'll give them a ... a big blemish that's really hard to cover up." She frowned for a moment and then shook her head as though dispelling her foul temper. "Anyway, what's up?" she asked, rising to her feet.

"I can't just come visit?" countered Faith with a charming smile.

"Well, I suppose you can," a smirking Willow conceded, "but why start now?"

Faith shrugged, grudgingly nodding as if to say 'okay, point'.

Gesturing for Faith to follow, the witch made her way into the kitchen and went directly to the fridge, taking out two Cokes.

"I wanted to ask you something," began the dark-haired Slayer, accepting the can Willow offered and pulling out a pack of Marlboros. At the redhead's disapproving purse of the lips, Faith rolled her eyes and returned the pack to her pocket.

"No, I won't shop for your motorcycle parts," Willow grinned.

"Nothin' like that," dismissed Faith as she hopped up on the kitchen's island counter. "Hazel's really bummed out about some family stuff, an' I don't know how to make her feel better."

"Is everything okay?"

"Sorta. She's upset an' all, though, an' I'm comin' up empty for what I can do. I figure, most of the crap I went through ain't too typical, so none'a my ideas are gonna count for much. But you ..." She waved a hand vaguely in Willow's direction. "You were like Pollyanna at her age, so you've gotta have some ideas that're better adjusted than mine."

Willow arched an eyebrow. "I can't tell if you meant to slip that insult in there or not."

"One'a life's great mysteries," replied the dark-haired Slayer. "C'mon Red, spill. Sixteen – what'd you to do stop feelin' less crappy?"

"Whew, okay. Let's see ..." Willow lapsed into a thoughtful silence. "Hm. I didn't much— Oh! O-Okay. So when I was back in high school and in a blechy mood ... Xander ignoring me again, Cordelia picking on me, Xander not noticing I was alive, Harmony picking on me, Xander only calling me for help on homew—"

Very pointedly, Faith cleared her throat.

"Right, anyway." Willow promptly moved along. "I guess I had more of my fair share of less-than sunny moods in the privacy of my own room. So what I used to do, when I was really upset?"

Inching her way to Faith, she leaned forward as though she were about to reveal a deeply personal secret. Eagerly, Faith bent down to catch the confidence.

"I used to see how far I could calculate pi," the redhead announced with a wise nod. She straightened up and sipped at her Coke, leaving an extremely befuddled Faith in her wake.

The dark-haired Slayer blinked in confusion. "Pie. Like ...?" she ventured, obviously reluctant to complete the question and apparently sensing she was on shaky ground. Fortunately for Faith's ego, Willow was more than happy to step in.

"Not like coconut cream," smiled the witch. "This is the pi you use to figure stuff with circles. You know: circumference, diameter, radius ... In math?"

"Oh," replied Faith with a frown.

Willow beamed, ostensibly delighted to be sharing the information. "I'd keep a mental note of how far I'd gotten, and whenever I got upset and just didn't want to deal with whatever, I'd start all over again and see if I could get any higher."

"An' that helped?" queried a doubtful Faith.

"Oh, yeah!" enthused the redhead. "That's the great thing about numbers. When you're dealing with people, you never know what you'll get – it could change from second to second. But a number, that's something you can count on." She paused for a moment to chuckle at her own bad joke and then continued. "Three is always three, it's not sometimes a- a seven or a fifty-one, and it doesn't make you pass notes to Susie Glasmeyer in English Lit."

"Uh-huh," agreed Faith, now more flummoxed than before.

Willow shrugged. "Well it's what I used to do."

"Yeah. Thanks," sighed the dark-haired Slayer. "I don't think that'll really work for Haze, though." She hopped off the counter and swiftly downed the remains of her Coke.

"No, probably not," conceded Willow with a hint of regret. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Faith told her with forced cheerfulness. "I'll just have to keep lookin'." She turned toward the front door. "Thanks for the drink," she threw over her shoulder as she left.

"No problem," called Willow. "Good luck!"

Left alone in the kitchen, the redhead pondered deeply for a moment and then her bottom lip formed itself into a pout.

"Damn," she muttered. "Now I really want a coconut cream pie."

Tara stood by the side of the road, rubbing her arms with her gloved hands. "You know if you'd let me—"

The response was curt, tense and decidedly snippy. "No."

Stamping her feet to keep warm, Tara stared up at the sky – gray, overcast and threatening to snow. The banks on either side of the deserted highway were already thickly coated with freshly fallen white powder and the boughs of the trees were straining beneath the weight. Tara listened for the welcome noise of an approaching vehicle, but there was no traffic in either direction.

Kennedy knelt by the right rear tire of the jacked-up SUV, an assortment of tools littering the area around her. Frowning, the brunette was attempting to loosen one of the lug nuts.

"I just think that—" suggested Tara, watching Kennedy struggle.

The reply was no less brusque this time. "No."

An aggravated Tara sighed audibly, but Kennedy didn't seem to care about the blonde's display of annoyance. Although applying pressure to the stubborn nut, it was clear that the brunette wasn't throwing all her strength into the effort. After another moment of controlled force, she cursed loudly and the hurled the lug wrench to the ground in a fit of pique. Getting to her feet, she delivered a savage kick to the flat tire.

"That should help," remarked Tara wryly.

"Makes me feel better, okay?" snapped Kennedy. "Instead of color commentary, why don't you fix the damned thing?"

Tara's eyes widened in disbelief. "I've been trying to help, you keep saying—"

"No!" Kennedy's tone was almost a growl.

The witch crossed her arms. "Yes, exactly."

"No, I mean ..." Kennedy stumbled over the words. "No! It's ... I can do it myself!"

She glowered at Tara and then knelt down again, snatching up the lug wrench. Hunching over with a look of fierce determination, she prepared for another try.

"Kennedy, wait," urged Tara, ignoring the other woman's quick glare in her direction. "Just ... calm down first, okay? In this cold, if you use all your Slayer strength, you'll—"

"Strip the nut or break it off. Yeah, I know," Kennedy muttered darkly, raising her voice just loud enough for Tara to hear. "'Course I know that. I'm the one that said it."

A small frown creased Tara's forehead. "You know if you'd just let me—"

Kennedy's face was like thunder as she turned to scowl at the blonde.

"Fine," replied Tara, throwing her hands into the air. "You just go right ahead and do it your way."

With a sharp nod, Kennedy returned to the job at hand. Shaking her head, Tara watched for a moment. "God help us if we have to actually ask for directions," she whispered to herself.

"I heard that," accused the brunette.

Unrepentant, Tara wandered away, leaving Kennedy to continue her battle to find just the right amount of necessary pressure. Snow crunching beneath her boots, she drifted along the side of the highway when something caught her eye in the middle of the road. She squinted, but it was a good ways off and difficult to distinguish.

"What is that?" she murmured curiously.

Behind her, Kennedy was now trying small bursts of power to nudge the nut loose, but the strain of limiting her strength in such a fashion was beginning to take its toll and she was quickly losing her temper.

"Dammit!" she swore, throwing the lug wrench to the ground once more. The clatter of metal on asphalt attracted Tara's attention and she turned back.

"Hey, can you tell what happened to the tire?" she shouted.

"Yeah. It lost all its air," responded a sarcastic Kennedy. "Turned into a big rubber pancake."

Rolling her eyes, Tara walked back toward the SUV. "I mean, can you tell why it's flat?"

Kennedy got to her feet slowly and placed her hands on her hips. "Because it doesn't have any air," she spelled out in exacting tones.

Tara's mouth grew tight, but she held her tongue and squatted down to inspect the tire. Intent on her examination, the blonde failed to see Kennedy's posture suddenly stiffen. The brunette's demeanor changed in an instant – she almost appeared to be another person entirely, somehow foggy and detached. Unseen by Tara, she reached down and retrieved the discarded lug wrench.

"Look at these punctures in the tire," Tara observed quietly. "They way they're so evenly spaced apart?"

Standing up, she took a step backward, still concentrating on the flat tire. Next to her, Kennedy straightened as well, very slowly and deliberately.

"I-I don't think this is natural," added Tara, her tone somewhat puzzled. "I think someone meant for us to pull over here."

She continued to study the tire, head tilting from one side to the other as considered the evidence and its implications. When no answer was readily available, she turned to Kennedy. "What do you—?" she began and then stopped short.

Taken totally off-guard, the blonde's eyes grew wide with alarm to see Kennedy looming over her, lug wrench held aloft and threatening to strike.

  Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all such related things, © Mutant Enemy and many other people with big scary lawyers.
We're borrowing them without permission, but you said you were done with 'em, so we're hoping you won't mind so much.
Stories, images, characters you don't recognize, those are all by 4Paws. Yes, we'll take the blame.
Back