Taxes 5 - Halloween / Day of the Dead

* * *
5A, Part 2: Nightfall
* * *

They cycled through the shower, Will first - a pirate's scent was a concession to authenticity neither quite wished to make. Then Will wandered out, moist and half-naked, to the living room, drying off in front of a crackling fire. Jack, on the other hand, used the heat lamp, and then set about getting ready.

Now, the transformation was very nearly complete. Jack had kept his hair bound back all day, and so the extensions were harder to see. Now they hung loose, unfettered. Hadn't time to stop dying it, but he'd had auburn highlights added back in. Dreadlocks were out of the question, but braids, he could do. Of course, he'd been stockpiling beads.

Some of the clothes were on, some strewn on the bed. No flintlock pistol, and Jack had not looked, because for some reason the instrument of his vengeance spoke more to him of grief. But he did have quite a fine sword, and of course, he had his ring.

Now he held the bottle of eyeliner in his left hand, and slowly raised the brush to his eye with his right. He hadn't painted his eyes since college. Jack felt the buzz behind his eyes, felt Sparrow shiver with anticipation, or perhaps it was him that did so...

//...I feel you so strong today. I'll be you in an instant. This...this is a key that invokes you faster than mere reaching, stronger than a hypnotist's spell...//

//...Aye. 'Tis the season, I think...It's your choice, but I'll guard us well, and I'll not let you sleep long...and truly I don't think you'll be able to sleep at all this night...//

//...Oh, I *want* this...// Byrd thought in reply.

//...Then take it. Take it as I take us, and I shall give ye back, this I swear...//

//...Yes...oh, come to me...//

From the first thin stroke of black, his hand knew where to move. It truly was like a switch being thrown this time, an internal click, the tripping of a breaker, the crashing of a breaker...and oh, oh, yes.

Captain Jack Sparrow considered himself in the mirror and grinned, teeth too even and too white, but that was a change he didn't much care to undo. And clean-shaven, but why not? He had been, on occasion.

He felt an ache in those too-even teeth, did Jack, and knew it was Will. Then, he'd expected it, and applied a bit of rum to the problem while he waited for his lad to come around.

//...My Will will talk him into it, don't worry...//

//...Never had a doubt, me own...//

* * *

//...Oh, Turner, just *go*...//

The dissonance was making Smith itch. He wanted...oh, he wanted, and Turner wanted too, which was the problem...and he'd *known* this was going to happen...

//...I can't be enslaved to my desires, my own self. It's dangerous for us...//

//...We've *had* this discussion. A *lot*...I want this...// Dirty pool, he knew, but...he fed Turner just a bit of the sheer pleasure he felt in yielding to him, felt his other self waver...

//...But this need, it's so strong now, and has been increasing all this day...//

//...And the stronger your desire, the more you fear it, I know, God do I know, how hard did you fight the ocean?...This is like that, you know? It's so strong because it's bigger than us, bigger than Jack. Whatever's happening, it's the time, the season, the night...a force of nature...//

//...There is no shame in yielding to that, is there?...// Needing, hopeful, *wanting* to be convinced...almost there...

//...Not at all...Please, Will Turner, I need this too...we are meant to be you tonight...//

"Mmm...yes...oh!" Quick shift pushing a rush of heat, and Will Turner stood, Smith an inordinately satisfied murmur in his mind.

//...Now doesn't that feel better?...//

//...Yes, damn you...// But the thought was tender. //...You're as bad as *he* is...//

//...Sometimes I'm worse...// Oh, Smith sounded entirely too smug. It was hard to care, though, as he was pulled to the bedroom by something invisible, irresistible.

Jack met him at the door.

"Ye're trembling like a virgin on her wedding night...mmph-nnh..." He gasped, stumbling back from the assault. "Or not..."

"Why do I think you'd know?"

"Because you're wise beyond your years...but I haven't been a virgin in any sense, or had one, for a very long while..."

Will wasted no more time in pulling Jack atop him to the bed. He got his first good look...oh, the beads, the darkened eyes...*Jack*...

"So beautiful..." Will murmured. "Seeing you thus, again..."

"What does it do to ye, lad? Tell me. Exactly."

"It makes me tremble," Will said, pushing down Jack's half-done pants. Jack trembled. "It makes me want to drink you forever." Their lips met in a kiss that opened wide, and they drank each other. "It makes me want you within me, filling and completing me, claiming...ah!" Jack ripped the vestiges of modern clothing from his Will, thrusting two fingers in at once. Smith's body knew this as well as his pirate soul, and pulled, pulsed, relaxed.

Jack added a third finger, and leaned in to lick Will's member as he did so. Just light touches, teasing, distracting. Will knew it was coming, but there was no preparing for Jack finding the spot inside and pressing as he did. He nearly came right then, but Jack withdrew slowly, stretching as he went.

"You'd have me claim you, treasure?"

Will decided the perfect response was to spread his knees and arch his back. He craned his neck, and Jack was at his throat, licking as he positioned, biting down as he pressed within.

Turner bucked and twisted beneath him, working Jack in further, tortuous-slow. He began the rhythm, slow still, like the beat of gypsy drums, then speeding slightly, as would the drums again. Will thought of Jack dancing, and knew that Jack was dancing now. He looked into his captain's eyes, utterly possessed, and felt Jack take the rhythm, the lead. No words, and the gaze was sharp, intent, but Jack smiled with his fierce joy and Will knew his own grin to be as bright. His eyes rolled back as Jack moved faster, faster, faster still...

This dance...this rolling...this feeling...this desire this need this pleasure cresting...filling, almost too much, beyond too much, not nearly enough, he could take more, he could take it all, he needed, needed..."Jack...more...more...oh..." Hard, so hard within him, and then the rough grasp surrounding him, working him, drawing him to...and there...and beyond...oh, so *warm* they were...yes...YES...

The joy was so great...their world flickered... Turner was Smith was Turner and all belonged to Jack...all Jack...

Who held their quieting body oh, so tenderly, as he pulsed his passion within.

A jumble of arms and legs, and Will murmured, "Of course, I was yours long ago."

"Aye, but vows are reaffirmed all the time. 'Tis fun, and a grand excuse for a party."

"Drinks all 'round?"

Without disengaging, Jack handed him the rum. Will took a long swallow, gasped, and grinned. When he put the bottle down, he found Jack looking at his ring.

"'Tis odd, but I think I just felt me ring tingle, just a bit." He pondered. "Wasn't cursed, was it?"

"Not that I knew of."

"Ah well. Maybe I'll remember better after some more rum." He grabbed his vest, pulled it on over the shirt he still wore. "If only I had me hat..." he sighed.

"Oh, well, as to that..." Will slid, slowly, away from Jack and stood. He reached up to the highest shelf in Jack's closet and took down a box.

"But ... that's..."

"That *was,*" Will corrected. "What was in this hatbox is now at...our...apartment. What is in it now..." He whisked the lid away with a Jack-like flourish to reveal a brown leather tricorne.

"Me hat! Oh..." Jack ran a finger along the , sl, slowly. He lifted it, turned it, brought it to his eye. "Oh, lad, what've ye done?" His smile had barely a hint of its sharp, mad edge.

"I had it made, as a surprise. Do you approve?"

"Do I approve, he asks me. Oh, Will, me love, if we weren't so recently spent, I'd show ye just how much I approve, but even Captain Jack Sparrow's got limits, much as it pains me t' admit."

"And I do love you, my captain, but more loving so soon would likely pain me as well."

"So it's just as well, then."

"That it is."

The deep kiss that followed served just fine.

* * *

While the Royal Inc. party started soon, the pirates had time to kill, and, as Jack pointed out, pirates were rarely early anywhere, save to the odd ambush. Thus, the two pulled off the road for drinks at the same hotel bar where they'd borrowed (with every intention of returning) a cigarette boat some weeks back. They'd stopped for the tall windows' amazing view of the moonlit Halloween sea, but upon arrival found a Halloween party in full swing.

"Oh my God," said a drunken Link, his arm around a pink-skirted Zelda. "You guys look *great!*"

"Seriously," Zelda said. "You've gotta be the best ever." She chugged the last of her drink, and said, "You're gonna kick our asses."

"But we aren't..." Will began, and Jack cut him off.

"A costume contest, is it?"

"Well, yeah."

"And what's the prize?"

"Well, duh. Alcohol."

Jack smiled. "We're in!"

They drifted inside, getting in without cover as they were in costume. Jack said a word or two to the bartender, who nodded, and then started a tab in the hopes of getting it paid for.

Will requested dark ale thick enough to chew, and got pretty much what he asked for. Jack, on the other hand, was exploring yet another variation on the theme of rum, which called itself a peach daiquiri.

"Ah, lad, you and I loosed again for fun, and hopefully without all that nasty angst, mm?" Jack leaned forward earnestly. "If ye feel any angst coming on, lad, let me know, and I'll provide ye with rum."

"Smith is alive within, and alert," Turner murmured back. "He's enjoying himself quite a bit, in fact, and he says he hopes we got all the angst out of the way this morning. No, Jack, I think it's well."

"Well, ye should have more rum anyway, on principle." He snatched his daiquiri out of Will's hands. "Not *my* rum, whelp!"

"You're welcome to my ale." So Jack waited until Will took a sip, then kissed him and got it that way. Someone hooted, and then arms grabbed their shoulders, and Jack half dragged, half swayed to the bar. Four barmaids surrounded them, lifting them atop it, and the bartender shouted, "Okay, that was Link and Zelda. Next up for best costume and best video game characters..."

"Video game?"

Will shrugged.

"We've got Will and Jack as Guybrush Threepwood and Elaine Marley, from the Monkey Island series! Give it up for the best Guybrush and Elaine I've ever seen!"

Jack's head turned fluidly to consider Will. "Ye don't look like an Elaine."

"I'm not."

"Ah, hell. Knew I should've grown a beard."

In response, Will pinched him on the rear, and Jack whacked him upside the head, out of sheer reflex. Then he shoved Will forward, leaping ahead of him to catch the whelp in his arms as he fell off the bar. The crowd burst into hoots and applause.

"I'd say you cheated," Will murmured, "but you may have won us that contest fair and square."

"More's the pity."

* * *

They meandered back to their seats, and Jack sipped at his rum. A flash of blue caught his eye, and he looked down and over to see a small blue man, no more than three apples high. He stood just outside, at the corner of the window, and wore a white cap and pants.

From Jack Byrd's memories, Jack easily placed him as a Smurf, and also recalled, vaguely, a similar white hat in the costume store they'd found that morning. But that wasn't the question, anyway. The question was how Jack had managed to start hallucinating so early in the evening's drinking, and...Jack waved down a barmaid with his glass.

"Lass, can I get some more of whatever this was?"

He got another, all the while needling Will about drinking something harder than ale. So Will ordered, with a grin, a shot of "Jack, straight up."

The whiskey arrived at their table, and suddenly Will was grasping air as Jack downed the liquor instead.

"What the...?"

Jack looked at him, suddenly solemn over the empty glass. "This shot was not meant for you."

Will groaned, and even more gratifying, whacked himself upside the head with the heel of his hand. "Couldn't resist, could you?"

"Ye know I have t' say these things or they just fester..."

The music cut for a second, and a voice proclaimed, "All right, you geeks! Winners of the video game division and the couples division - Will and Jack as Guybrush and Elaine. All your drinks to this point have been comped! Congratulations!"

"T' this point? That's *it?*" Jack sighed. "Good thing we got an early start."

"Well, there's always the Royal Inc. party - free drinks all around. Plus," and Will did have a sly smile on occasion, "perhaps you'll be able to get Norrington drunk..."

"I think Elizabeth rather takes care of that, love - and if I tried to drink 'im, I'm fairly certain she'd shoot me..."

"Impossible...incorrigible...obnoxious..." Will paused, obviously waiting for it. Jack gave a sufficient pause, then obliged.

"...Pirate."

The lad sighed. "Just so."

The two exited the bar past a clown juggling twelve colored balls with professional skill. They crossed the hotel lobby and walked to the bike, and Jack felt Will settle warm against his back. They took off down the road to Royal Inc., only to stop suddenly for a highway obstruction. Jack rubbed his eyes and stared, for it appeared to be a woman in dominatrix leathers chasing after a cow. Also, upon closer inspection, the cow seemed to be wearing shoes.

Jack watched them cross the road and clear it, and blinked. "Well. That's something ye don't see every day. Will, what exactly was I drinking, do ye recall?"

"Peach Daiquiris, but I think there was a Fuzzy Navel in there somewhere. It wasn't, however, the drink that caused that, since I saw it also."

"There's something odd afoot this night, not that that's necessarily bad..." Jack mused, and gunned the motor again, passing a dark limousine idling at the next crossroads. Then he barely avoided taking the both of them down as he fishtailed the bike, for in the crack of the window, he'd seen, or thought he'd seen...

A bony finger, tapping on the front edge of the barely open pane...

But when he looked in the mirror, the window was closed, and then they were too far along the highway and gone. Will's arms tightened about him and he gave one wrist a reassuring squeeze.

//...wouldn't be, anyway...he died, and he'd be flesh again...wouldn't he?...//

//...o'course, me own...o'course...//

Something odd indeed...but not necessarily his problem...

* * *

"Ethan? Oh, Ethan..."

Another smooth English accent, echoing through the costume shop on the heels of the shattering of glass.

"Ethan Rayne! I know you're here. You may as well come out. It's time for your yearly thrashing."

A sigh, and the shop owner stepped into the light. "Ripper. It's been entirely too long." Ethan removed, lightning-quick, a bone talisman, and a blue brilliance forked from it ...to dissipate harmlessly against a dried lizard the newcomer had concealed in his jacket.

"Been learning new tricks, I see." Ripper grabbed Ethan by the collar, slamming him against the wall, headfirst. "So have I. That was courtesy of a demonologist in Chinatown." He held the stunned sorcerer, for such he was, pulled back for a punch...and then paused, let the other go. "What's the matter with you, anyway?"

"How do you mean?"

Rupert Giles, for such Ripper was, shook his head sadly. "You know very well. This is...uninspired. Your mischiefs may be evil and are invariably dangerous, but they are never, ever, repetitive. Willow sensed this spell again..."

"Armageddon girl. I should have known."

"...which made me wonder, and now - I come here expecting chaos and terror in the streets..."

"Disappointed?"

"...and I find most of your stock still on the shelves. While I tranquilized one werewolf, the scariest thing I've seen so far has been Hilary Clinton out wandering with Arnold Schwarzenegger." Giles sighed. "You may as well tell me where your focus is, so that I can smash it and end this. It's just sad, really."

Ethan laughed. "You almost had me there. So, that was your ploy. It might have worked, except..." He blinked. "Actually, I think it did work. You're right. I didn't want to drag out the old 'turn them into their costumes' bit - I'm well aware it's extremely nineteen-ninety-five. But the god was getting cranky, and if I didn't do something in his honor soon, he was going to revoke his blessing."

"This was a sop to Janus, then?"

"Bloody right. I was paying rent. As he's a chaos god, though, repeated spells don't work nearly as well. Nothing's gone right!" The sorcerer seemed to be...yes, he was pouting now. "No inventory moved, a Halloween World came in across the street..." He looked heavenward, or perhaps toward Olympus. "Sorry!" Giles eyed him with a look he hoped was free of any sympathy. "The Aztec gods are disturbingly strong in these parts, and I didn't want to be without his power. There you go. And I'd be happy to give you my bloody focus, except..."

"Yes?"

"I don't know where it is."

"Oh. Really." Giles' face hardened again. "Well. It's to be a thrashing after all, then." He kicked E in in the goods, knocked him down with clubbed hands, and put a foot on his neck. "You had to have it to cast. Where. Is. It?"

"I didn't need it to cast. I've been charging it all week. And I think the bloody pirate stole it!"

"So let me get this straight." Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and habitually pushed at glasses that weren't there, as he'd removed them for a Ripper-style beating. "You turn someone into a pirate, and you're surprised when he steals from you?"

"He wasn't a pirate at the time, all right? The spell was keyed to go on at sunset. This was well before."

"All right. Fine. If you'd be so kind as to do a locator spell, then? He's your patron; I've no special bond with Janus."

"It isn't that easy! I'm not your little power-Wiccan. I can charge...let's see..." He murmured some words over a plastic compass as a local disenchantment, then picked it up. "This. But finding the medallion with it, thatthat you'll believe me, will only work as well as the god wants it to. And I did mention he's not very happy with me at present, didn't I?"

"Just do it."

"How corporate of you."

"Shut up. Get ready, and meanwhile, try to answer me honestly. Did you sell any vampire teeth?"

* * *

The Royal Inc. party occupied several well-lit, heated tents on the edge of the parking lot that bordered dense trees. Vehicles entered and parked on the other side, across from the local Starbucks. Jack swung the bike in and slid off the seat. Will slipped off behind, and asked, "So, why did we..." his hand swerved in a fishtail motion and he staggered slightly.

"Thought ye were gonna quit with the impressions..."

"I don't believe I ever said that, but you know I meant the bike."

"Oh, that. Was nothing. Just thought I saw someone I knew."

Will considered him, eyes narrowed, and then visibly let it go. Or he looked like he did. Jack knew from both sweet and bitter experience how tenacious the lad could be. The longer Jack could go without saying the "B" word, though, the less chance of killing the party mood, which was to be avoided at *all* costs. As it was, their near-spill had gone a good and disturbing ways toward sobering him up. Again, to be avoided at *all* costs.

"Well," Will said finally, slipping an arm about Jack's waist, "Let's get you some more rum, then."

"I love you."

"Ah, my Captain, that would mean so much more if I hadn't heard you say it in the same tone to the rum." Will ducked another swat to the head with his usual grace.

As they passed the nearest edge of cars, the decorations began. Jack stopped suddenly, looking up.

"He couldn't resist, could he?"

Will followed his eyes. Hanging from a tree branch was a skeleton. Jack doffed his cap, though there was no warning about piracy, merely a placard that read, "Your Name Here."

"Isn't that great?" said a reveler dressed as the Headless Horseman. "Norton puts that guy up every year."

"Why am I not surprised?" Jack growled. He glanced at Will. "Ye could've warned me."

Will shrugged. "We both forgot."

"Ah, well. Let's get that rum. Alcohol makes everything better."

Will choked back a laugh and Jack wrinkled his brows, craned his head.

"Oh, nothing. Smith was just noting the similarities between yourself and Homer Simpson."

There was really only one response to that. Jack swirled one hand up to rest gracefully against his temple and said, "D'oh!"

The Captain did have just enough rum left in him to work up a decent strut, which went into full effect as they stepped inside the main tent. He noticed eyes on him, heard whistles, and smiled a little, satisfied smile.

"We seem to be making quite the impression," Will murmured.

"Well, pirates are hot, savvy?"

"I suppose..." And the lad was not immune, for he was visibly pleased. And did he have any idea how much Jack wanted to please him visibly, with all those admiring eyes turned his way? A hand caught his mid-sway, lingered in a whisper of a caress. Slight shiver at his shoulders and his pants were tighter of a sudden. Oh, the whelp knew, all right.

"Pirates. There goes the neighborhood." A grinning Governor Swann greeted them with pats on the back. Or perhaps it was Warren...a wolf in sheep's clothing? Fo was was Swann's formal finery he wore. "Welcome, both of you. Do try not to steal everything that isn't nailed down."

"Your silver...is safe," Jack declared, spreading his arms and forcing Will to duck. "Because it is, in fact, stainless steel, and anyhow, I'm betting it's the caterer's, not yer own."

"You have a discerning eye for finery, Sparrow."

It was on the tip of Jack's tongue, and then he realized..."You said that just t' hear me correct you, didn't ye? For old times' sake."

"Perhaps, Captain."

"Hmm..." And they traded wolfish smiles.

"Where is Elizabeth?" Will broke in, and the smiles took on mirrored touches of pain, just the least bit, for this was a woman he'd once loved. It had been against her father's wishes, of course, and far more important, against the will of Jack's heart. But that had been long ago, and it had changed utterly, long ago.

Was that angst? Oh, best to be getting to the rum. "An' more important, where's the bar?"

"Both that way." Swann, or Swan, waved a hand, and Jack spun in the general direction indicated, leaned, pulled Will along. On the way, Gibbs caught his eye from across the room and waved; the old seadog was chatting up a woman dressed as a stoplight. Anamaria didn't appear to have arrived as yet. Happily, Jack found the bar next, and as he ordered up a rum and coke, a familiar voice came from behind.

"~Captain~ Jack Sparrow. Well. They really will let anyone in the door these days."

Will's stare should have tipped him off. Still, he began, "Inexpressibly lovely to see ye also, Commo...dore..."

Jack trailed off, as it was not at all a Commodore's uniform and wig that met his eyes. The voice, and the pure, flawless accent contained within were Norrington's, certainly, but the clothes? A sharply-tailored tuxedo that showed his long, defined form to advantage, with one of Norton's guns in an obvious holster beneath. He looked at Jack over the rim of his martini glass and said, "Commander. And it's Bond. James Bond."

"We had the accents," said Elizabeth. "It seemed a shame not to use them." Jack, despite Norrington's presence...

//...oh, let's be honest, *because* of it...//

...looked her up and down, slowly, toes to ... eyes, to toes again. Rugged boots, tight tan shorts, an even tighter teal tank...and...he squinted. Something seemed different. Bigger. And her thighs were girded by holsters that held *two* guns. She turned to smile up at her spy, and a long auburn braid brushed her calves.

"Milady Lara Croft." And she nodded happily. He took her hand in his and kissed it, lingering long enough for even Will to raise an eyebrow. "Ye look..."

"Terrific? Spot-on?"

"Bigger."

"Pirate," she said, but with a laugh in her voice. "All temporary. Part of the character, you understand."

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Nor I," said Commander Bond, putting a possessive arm about her shoulder and pulling her close. Will raised the other eyebrow, and Elizabeth shrugged. Jack, though, was watching Norrington. He pulled off the 007 bit flawlessly, but there was something off...disjointed...he flashed suddenly to the Pearl's message and wondered if that was the meat of what she'd been trying to tell him and his modern half. But as he pondered, Jack felt an echo that was nothing so much as a Not Yet - Wait.

//all right, Pearl love, I'll wait...anything for you//

He knew his smile had gone soft and strange while thinking of his Pearl, so he took a deep drink of the carbonated rum to hone it a bit. "Well, me hearties, and those that're hardly me hearties, drink hearty, hmm?"

"Now that you're here, that's a certainty."

"Mr. Bond, you say things to warm me black heart, truly ye do." Jack noted that the martini glass, though, contained some sort of citrus punch at present, and so he waited until the affianced couple wandered off, then engaged the bartender in conversation. Pointing to a man in a long black coat and dark glasses, he said, "I think that's Lloyd from Finance. Doesn't he make an excellent Mauritius ... Martian ... Maurice..."

"Morpheus?" the bartender offered helpfully as Jack liberated a small bottle of light-tinted rum.

"That's it exactly! Knew it was something sleepy." And the rum found its way to the punchbowl with none but Will the wiser. He rolled his eyes, of course.

"It's an evergreen, love," Jack said, shrugging. Slipping an arm around Will's shoulders, he meandered the both of them to the edge of the tent, weighing leaving the heated area against stealing the whelp off for a quick one. His libido was winning, of course, when he saw something large and mottled-white move sinuously through the trees.

"Oh, Will?" he said, squeezing the other man's shoulder and pointing, but when Will looked, the apparition was gone.

"What is it?"

"Panthera Unica," Jack murmured. Will blinked. "Unless I'm mistaking me big cats, it were a snow leopard, Will, or reasonable facsimile. And normally I'd attribute it to drink and get more of whatever this was, but I've had rum an' coke before."

"And normally I'd attribute it to your drink, but as I think tonight is tending toward the strange, perhaps we'd best stay by the tent. The party's picking up, after all." A three-man team dressed as Haku the Dragon from 'Spirited Away' wove past the pair, preceded and followed by women with hand drums. "See?"

Jack smiled. "Aye. And there's a vacancy at the bar..." He took advantage of that to nick a half-full bottle of Captain Morgan for himself. When he returned, though, he found Will conversing with his boss, Brown, who'd come as a quite decent Frankenstein's Monster, even leaning on a crutch. Jack shifted left, just a little, intending to explore, and ran into James Bond again. Somehow, he was having trouble thinking of the man as Norrington tonight, and he resolved to explore that further after the proper amount of lubrication. Thoughts of exploring and lubrication led his mind back to Will, but then he noticed the secret agent downing his rum punch. Which would have been amusing, save for the expression on his face.

Looking to Jack, he said, "I know it's spiked, Sparrow. You did the same thing at our wedding."

"I'm fairly sure I never married ye, unless I was drunker that one night than I thought. I do have vague memories of livening up the punch at some function, though - ah, that's it! 'Twas Elizabeth ye married, not me. And ~Captain~ Sparrow, thank ye kindly."

"You know very well what I meant." He finished his glass, and immediately dipped the ladle again. Jack watched him take a large sip.

"Easy now, 007. I may be Captain Jack Sparrow, but you're not."

"Tell me, Jack," he replied, voice flat, "Had you met Annie Mae's husband?"

"Long time ago, once or twice, as Byrd, o'course, but why..." Followed the pointing glass...fumbled his own bottle. "Oh. Oh, I see."

There was Anamaria, of course, hair in six thick braids, hat ringed with cowrie shells. Next to her, of course, was Tyler Robbins, and Jack knew him, all right.

//"betrayers - and mutineers.//
//"You know NOTHING of Hell!"//
//"So there *is* a curse. That's interesting. That's *very* interesting."//
//"I always liked you."//

"Oh, my."

//"You know NOTHING of Hell!"//

Jack took a long pull on his bottle. Then he took another. Finally, he said, quietly, "He was me friend once, ye know, 'till he did what they all did, and laughed doing it, and the curse twisted him into something wrong that forgot even that kind of joy."

"I killed him," the officer replied, and Jack's head came up at that. "Standing at the rail of the Dauntless that unholy night, knowing that my sword would make no difference but having to try for all our sakes, and the sheer surprise, Jack, on his face ..." He downed this glass, considered yet another.

"He was me friend," Jack repeated, "and I ran with him under me first captain, Black Jack Savage, with the two of them survivors of the same bloody slave-ship mutiny. But if I'd have been there, I'd have done for him." Jack leaned back just a little. "Considering yer opinion of me in general, I can't assume that's a comfort."

"Unfair, Sparrow," came the reply. "But then, you *are* a pirate."

"A sorry pirate, occasionally, as you're fond of pointing out." He met the other's eyes. "In this case, I am sorry."

"An apology from you. Could there be hope for us after all?" His sarcasm was not quite as edged as it might have been.

"Hope springs eternal, Jimmy."

"Stop calling me Jimmy."

"Then call me Captain."

"And break centuries-old tradition?"

"Humor from you? Ye must be drunk."

"I'm still talking to you. I think perhaps you're right." Elizabeth neared, then, and he moved to join her. "Look to your blacksmith, scalawag. I know Elizabeth holds all my hope for yet enjoying this affair."

Good advice it was, and Jack decided to take it. He'd been blindsided by angst that seemed stubbornly resistant to rum. Wandering near where he'd left his William, he found another familiar face, but this one happily from his present orbit.

"Honey! Glad ye could make it, love. Have ye seen Will?"

Annie Mae's tall, well-built sister considered, then smiled and beckoned. This allowed Jack time to appreciate her very minimal vampire outfit, from the plunging neck to the tiny black wings at the shoulders.

"He went off into the woods after all, then?" It was possible - the facilities might have been full up...

She did not answer, merely walked into the cool night air. When they were a few trees beyond the tent, Honey turned and stepped close. She put a hand to either side of the pirate, pinning him against a tree, then slipped a foot along the inside of his calf.

"Is Will here at all, lass?"

"You caught me," she murmured. "No Will. Just us..."

"We go no further without him, love. Will and I have an understanding."

"But...you promised me a taste." Her arms moved in to hold his shoulders tight, and he twisted, but she was far too strong. With an animal sound she reared back and her face changed, deforming, teeth lengthening. With mad desperate effort, Jack threw her off, but she was up again before he could draw his sword. Then everything happened at once.

"Jack!" came Will's shout from his right. A sword whizzed by that would have speared Honey's arm to a tree, had she not crumpled a second before. As it was, Will's sword vibrated between two men, one of whom held a tranquilizer gun and had the other man by the collar.

"No vampire teeth?" he asked dangerously.

"Well, maybe a pair."

Jack and Will stared, then, at the man with the gun. "Bootstrap!?" Jack said, without thinking, and the man replied, "I beg your pardon?"

"I see the resemblance," Will said, his voice a very frayed calm, "and it's eerie, but that is not my father."

"Not - not that I know of," the man said, and it was obvious now, of course, but very little else was, and Jack was beginning to think that the oddness of the evening had nothing after all to do with his alcohol consumption, and that being a little bit drunk and a little bit mad might actually be of help.

"That's him!" said the other man, meanwhile. "That's the pirate!"

"I'm the pirate, he's the pirate, she, apparently, is the vampire, and I have no idea what, in fact, you both are..." Jack had his sword out now. "Except that you're Ethan from the costume shop, and you sold me me ring. Now that we're all clear on just how unclear we all are, I would very much like an explanation. If ye please."

"He remembered this morning? He wasn't supposed to..." Ethan said. "See, I told you! Nothing's gone right."

"Words t' live by, mate, but do explain quickly." With a wrist-snap, Jack's sword-tip touched Ethan's neck.

"Iusedmagictoturnpeopleintothecostumestheyboughtatmyshop."

Jack blinked. "Well, that was quick."

"I'm sure you find all of this a bit hard to accept..." Bill's look-alike said.

"I've seen living skeletons crew a sailing ship. I can accept hard to accept."

"Living skeletons..." The man took a good look at Jack. "The curse of Cortez. You didn't become just any pirate...you're Captain Jack Sparrow, aren't you?"

"You've heard of me!" Jack crowed.

"And yourself?" Will put in.

"Rupert Giles. This person you know..." Giles sat Ethan on the pine-needled ground, and Sparrow's sword lowered with him, staying at Ethan's neck. "...although how is a mystery to me."

"I told ye," Jack explained again. "He sold me part of me effects. Are ye a little bit drunk yourself?"

"No - I mean...the spell doesn't... and I'm not..."

"Oh, the spell. That does explain the Smurf..." Will gave him a curious look, and Jack returned a finger-twist that generally meant 'later.' "...but I don't think it worked on me."

"Why not?" Ethan asked from the ground.

Will counted down on his fingers as Jack replied, "Because I'm ~Captain~ Jack Sparrow, of course."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Trust me," Will put in. "It would if you'd known him longer."

"You see, not only am I Captain Jack Sparrow, but I already was."

"I'm certain you think so now, but it's only the magic -"

"I'm not so sure of that," Ethan began, then shut up as Jack's sword nicked his chin.

"Right," The man with the glasses - Niles? - said. "Captain Sparrow, might you have liberated a medallion from this man's store? He claims it's the focus for his spell, and it's best we destroy it and end this."

Jack looked at him sidewise. "...What's in it for me?"

"Jack," Will began, reasonably, "Think about it. You just found out that the medallion you stole was accursed, and you already knew it was sacred to heathen gods. From experience, I'd say no good can come of it."

"First, they weren't sure I'd stolen it until now. Second, I was just trying to get some good to come of it. Third, it wasn't nearly as incredibly stupid as it sounds in retrospect, and anyhow, not a zombie, after all." But he did move his hand surreptitiously into a shaft of moonlight to be absolutely sure.

"Look, will you just smash the thing so I can stop getting beaten and we can all go home?" Ethan said, cutting his chin again as he spoke. Jack lifted his sword away just as Will retrieved his and came in to cover, a flowing transition. Styles, (was it Styles?) meanwhile, went for his wallet.

"Would you let me see the medallion for..." he rummaged "...$100?" In an eye blink, the bill was gone, and Jack had pulled the medallion from beneath his vest. "Pirates..." Styles muttered, and Jsmilsmiled and shrugged. But when ...no, Miles... reached for the image of Janus, he pulled it back.

"Let's...think about this for a moment, though. This magician seems a bit eager for his work to be undone, and even on such brief acquaintance, he doesn't strike me as the type what makes things easy, savvy? He's not, right? In general?"

"Well, no..." Miles replied, meditatively, "but it worked that way last time."

"Aye, but I've a suspicion..."

"Oh, just do it. He only wants to keep his treasure."

"He's right, isn't he?" Miles said slowly. "You do want- " He wound up for a kick, then stopped. "-and if you've been lying to me all this time, no amount of pain's going to persuade you to honesty, is it?

"Nope."

"Oh, I wouldn't say *that,*" Jack put in, sinking to his haunches half a foot from Ethan's face. He had the satisfaction of seeing eyes widen, but had to add, "Unfortunately, I'm a bit too drunk for proper torture this evening, so I've a better idea. The spell turned folk who bought their effects in his establishment into their costumes, aye?"

Giles (That was it! Giles. Had to be...) nodded, and Will put in, "Special effects, then."

Jack groaned. "I'm working here, whelp."

"Begging the captain's pardon."

Said captain looked up to the other Englishman. "Hold 'im," Jack advised, "and hold out his hand."

Bootstrap's look-alike crouched and did so, and Ethan twitched, twisted despite Will's sword. Jack removed his ring.

"It's not going to work," the sorcerer said. "The spell isn't...it can't..."

"Then why are ye struggling so?" Jack said with a smile. "Isn't and can't are fine words, but they tend t' lose their meaning near me person."

"And why is that, exactly?" Just the hint of a sneer now.

"Because," and Will mouthed the words with him this time, "Like I said, I'm ~Captain~ Jack Sparrow, and now..." Jack slid his ring on the hand that Giles held immobile, "...so are you."

It was astounding to watch, truly - Ethan's hair lengthened, tangled. His skin turned a deep tan, and a few of his teeth went to metal. He relaxed in Giles' grip, and his head seemed somehow *looser* on his shoulders. There was even a hint of kohl around his eyes.

"Well..." he said, Ethan's voice but very much Sparrow's accents, "...that's very interesting." He studied the ring, then eyed Jack up and down, and Jack did likewise. "My, but you're a handsome one."

"The same t' you, love," Jack replied. "Now, me, would ye mind telling me what this one had planned, near as ye can figure?"

"...What's in it for me?"

"Oh, come *on*..." Will muttered, as Jack held up the hundred Giles had given him and it vanished again in an instant.

"Right. By the way, this one's shocked that you managed to re-trigger the spell after the preset time, and that I don't think it's the eighteenth century. Don't see why I should - 's obviously not..."

"Can ye get on with it, me? I think Honey's waking up..."

Ethan/Jack glanced over at the prone vampire, whose fingertips were twitching. "...Right." He considered the medallion. "Well, when I'm right, I'm right. Smashing this isn't going t' break his curse. It'll set it until sometime between next Sunday and the following Leap Year - no way t' tell for sure. It will do something else, though."

"Good lord - what?" Giles asked.

"It'll trigger a backup for the lust spell ye ducked when ye first caught up to him."

"*Lust* spell!?" Giles shook his head. "I thought he just...My God. It's all starting to make a twisted kind of sense. He named the store after me, used a spell I or someone I knew was likely to sense...he *wanted* me to find him...to...to..." He shook his head again. "My God."

"Not like he was goin' t' ravish ye - the spell wouldn't have compelled ye to be with him, savvy?" Ethan/Jack looked earnest. "Yuld\uld've gone off an' had yerself...a lot...but he was hopin'...Y'see," the magicked pirate said, leaning sinuousway way from the sword and yet toward Will, "He hasn't really gotten any in a long while, and when he had it w' Ripper, here, 'twas the best he'd ever had. An' he never minded a bit of pain from this one if it got 'im what he wanted."

"Yes, well, considering that the last time I even entertained the notion, I woke up with horns and scales, you can see why I might not want another go."

Ethan/Jack sighed. "Thought ye might feel that way. Pity...ye do so resemble William...Are ye *sure?*"

"Yes!"

"Your loss, then, love. But you'll always remember this as the day ye could've f-"

Jack cleared his throat. "Vampire waking up over here. How, exactly, do we break this curse?"

"Me blood on the medallion."

"Well, that figures," said Will. He moved his sword to hover before Ethan/Jack's hand, and ens ensorcelled man pricked his finger, touching it then to the medallion of Janus.

Nothing happened. Or at least, nothing happened until Vampire/Honey lunged at Jack's throat and got shot again for her troubles.

"Mmm. I'm not exactly me, though, at the moment, am I?" Ethan/Jack eyed his counterpart. "I always was the only one could truly outsmart meself..."

"Here," Giles said, reaching out his hand. The backs of his knuckles were streaked red. "Ethan's blood, when he was Ethan." Jack ran the medallion across the stain, and a shiver spread out from it, through the night. Ethan lost his pirate trappings, and Honey's face returned to normal.

Jack and Will, of course, changed not one bit.

Ethan pulled the ring from his finger, but then stared at it 'till Jack snatched it back. With his other hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose, unconsciously mimicking Giles. "Ow...That man thinks *sideways*..."

"Lust spell?" Giles said dangerously, then looked at Jack and Will. He kept looking.

"You two haven't changed at all."

"Oh, now he notices," said Ethan. "Give the man a gold star..."

"I did tell ye," Jack said.

"But how...not the curse of Cortez, surely?"

"Ye were right about the skeleton bit, there. There's a fine crescent moon out tonight...if I were cursed, ye'd know it."

"Absolutely fascinating..."

"'Tis me curse to be, I know."

"There's great debate in occultist circles as to whether that curse even existed, you know. I would dearly love to continue this conversation, but..."

"You've got to run our desperate friend out of town," Will finished.

"I'm not desperate!" To three sidelong looks, he protested, "I really did need to placate my god, and he's still rather upset with me, although apparently his sense of humor's intact at my expense. I did just have a pirate dissect my sex life from inside my own head..." Then he focused on Jack. "But he's noticed you, too, and I have a feeling he likes you. My spell wasn't meant to be customized. You may well be a votary of my god now, whether you will it or no."

"Well, it's not like I've got any other deity wanting my..."

A chorus of coyote howls split the night air.

"...and that was just good timing," Jack said, looking around. "Right?"

Will and Giles both shrugged. As Giles pulled Ethan to his feet, Jack slipped a business card into his pocket. Giles removed it, stared.

"A pirate working for the IRS?"

"I know, I know. I'm sure the perfect quip will come to ye shortly. But I've a question in the meantime. How'd ye find me?"

"Magic, actually. That reprobate enchanted this, at my ... request." Giles removed from his pocket a small toy compass. "It points to the medallion."

The compass vanished from Giles' hands as quickly as the hundred-dollar bill.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Sorry, mate. Pirate. And I've got to have that compass. Y'see, it doesn't point north."

The bespectacled man rolled his eyes, resembling Bootstrap even more. Odd, how Turners developed that little tic in proximity to Jack.

"Fine. If you really must-" Giles began. He was interrupted by Honey, who was standing, dazed and shaky.

"Oof. Jack, I dunno what I had, but don't let me have another, huh?" She looked around. "Um, who're these guys?"

"We were just leaving," Giles said, suiting actions to words. "Jack?"

"Ye seem t' be on the side of the angels. Feel free t' give me a call."

"Be seeing you," said Ethan, with a wink, as Giles dragged him away.

"Catfight?" Honey asked. "Hope they didn't drag you out here to get in the middle of some lover's quarrel."

"Well, as a matter of fact..."

"Ick," she replied. "It's Halloween. Nobody needs that crap." The dancer shook her head. "Whoo. Somebody spiked the punch."

As they led Honey back inside, Will murmured, "Shouldn't she be out yet?"

"Could be the magic flushed most of it from her system. But I think we should leave off questioning it and just be glad that Anamaria isn't seeing us drag her sister around all unconscious."

"Good point."

Back inside the tent, Jack lifted his rum bottle from where he'd left it and drained the last few drops. As he began edging back toward the bar, the swing band who'd replaced the D.J. struck up a credible cover of the Squirrel Nut Zippers' 'Hell.'

It got to him somewhere near his gut and he locked eyes with his William. Smile sneaking about the corners of his mouth as he asked, "How's yer footwork?"

"Smith learned swing dancing years ago...Byrd as well?"

"Oh, aye..." and he grabbed Will up in a spin, establishing in no uncertain terms that he was the captain, and so he'd be leading, thank you very much. Then they were lost in movement, more spins and dips and of course, surreptitious grinds. Drums and feet kept the rhythm with Jack and Will in perfect sync. Horns blared and Jack let himself go, let a bit of his own madness creep into the dancing, odd syncopations that Will still saw coming and met.

Eyes on them now, he sensed peripherally, but the world was nearly all music and Will flushed with lips parted. Spinning away, pulling back toward, rocking, sliding sideways, drums, horns and song rising to their peak, building to the big finish. On the last loud note he reeled William in, twisting, wrapping him in his arms, dipping and kissing him soundly.

They did not part until well into the applause.

As they straightened, Will blushing, Jack sketching two elaborate bows, Will murmured, "You know that bit about keeping a low profile at work?"

"Aye?"

"To hell with it."

"Mmm," Jack replied, holding him close. "Now, if ye don't object, I'd like t' make an exit. I'm still thinkin' of tryin' t' get to the West Hollywood street fair, now that we've put in an appearance here. Plus, it turns out Annie Mae's husband was part of me mutinous crew, and that's a thing I've got to think on."

"Do you think he...?"

"I doubt it. I'll ask Elizabeth later to be sure; I'm fairly certain Bond over there will have her take a look. The question is, does she, and methinks it's not a question for tonight. So, time to be moving on."

"Well, if you're ready to ... I suppose the term is 'party-hop,' then I am, as well. You do know that Los Angeles has rain predicted, though."

"Lad, I've had some of the best times of me life soaking wet. But just think - if it doesn't rain, it'll be the closest we get t' a modern Tortuga 'till New Years."

"Fine, then. Let's get you some more drinking and debauchery. We're taking my car, though."

* * *