As always, I own nothing, it's all Kim's. I love Kim, Kim is all awesomeness and all awesomeness or shreds of it contained herein are purely property of said awesome Kim.

Well, I suppose I should have written this right after ODW, but I was so certain the wonderrific Ms. Harrison was going to show it to us, and since she is the master of it all, her canonical version would put me to shame. But though I loved WWBC, I was insanely disappointed we didn't get to see Rachel's first lesson with Al. Just to be safe I am going to say WWBC spoilers since I do use the little tidbits Kim dropped here and there to try and build a more complete picture. It will be in two parts. It was waaaayyyy harder than writing Trench, so hopefully it turned out okay. So here is my attempt at it. Would be awesome if others tried their hands at it as well. I know I would be curious to see some other versions of…

Rachel's First Day of (Demon) School =)

I think I'm getting better at this, I dared think as we jumped the lines. I could still feel Al's warm hand in my own, gripping me almost tightly enough to be painful, but it was distant somehow, unreal. I felt dizzy, nauseous, completely unconnected and pained as I was broken in a thousand little pieces and rapidly put back together. But at least this time I didn't feel like I was going to puke or collapse.

Don't you dare. If you puke on my shoes, you'll be spending your first day scrubbing them and every inch of floor, itchy witch, I felt more than heard Al's bothered huff. Somehow, I could still "hear" his precise, and as I was becoming more and more convinced, completely fake, British accent though I was sure I couldn't actually hear anything in the lines.

My ears popped and I stumbled slightly before catching myself. We stood outside a decrepit, practically flat building, which would have confused me if I hadn't seen the stairs cut away into the rock and leading to the building's front door. There were no windows and the angry red glare of the Ever-After sky made the building's outside look like sickly, mottled skin. I knew the demons lived underground, but it was still a little creepy. Before I could get cold feet, Al grabbed my elbow roughly and hauled me forward and through the door. It looked like a dingy motel on the wrong side of the tracks once we were inside. I suppressed a shudder at the demon behind the desk in a wire cage who watched us enter. I half expected him to shout something about rent due as we hurried down the hall and Al hit the call button for what I was guessed correctly was the elevator. The lift seemed to arrive more quickly than on my side of the lines, something that just didn't seem fair but for which I was grateful since I didn't have to spend any more time waiting with Al still holding my elbow and glancing down at me questioningly.

I hurried into the lift so he couldn't shove me in. The door shut loudly behind us and it began to descend. There was no panel of buttons or lit up display to show the floors. I straightened my coat Al's possessive grip had wrinkled and resettled my overnight bag on my shoulders and waited. And waited. And waited. I felt goose bumps form on my arms. From the feel of it, the lift was still descending. As if sensing my discomfort, Al chuckled lightly and shifted to stand closer to me until I could feel the heat of his body through my coat. Wonderful, I thought, trapped in an elevator, with Al.

I felt him stiffen beside me. I glance up and saw his red goat-eyes slightly widened and looking at the bowl in my arms.

"And what," Al sniffed, pointing at bowl quivering uneasily in my hands, "is that?" I glanced down, having forgotten Mr. Fish in the jump and utterly surprised I hadn't split his little fishy home along with his little fishy brains all over the line. But before I could respond, Al was nearly doubled-up laughing, his ruddy complexion even redder with his outburst. I had unwittingly taken a step back at the sound of it, but steeled my nerves as I watched him. If I was really going to be his student once a week, I guess I had better get used to him laughing at me.

"A fish? Really Rachel, what happened to your adorable little elf?" Al said, still snickering as he straightened his green velvet coat.

"Why would I bring Trent?" I asked numbly, trying to figure out what was wrong with Mr. Fish.

"Well love, it's more convenient to have your familiar at hand when working, but I suppose that," he pointed flippantly towards the bowl in my hands, "will have to do." Then he licked his lips and glared down at him, "At least until you can convince your wee little elf to accompany you across the lines. He can sleep in the cupboard," he offered helpfully, and I shook my head, not sure if he was taunting me or just being difficult. Probably both.

I bit my tongue just in time to keep from shouting that Trent was not my familiar. Newt had given me his mark with the understanding I wanted the elf for a familiar. Maybe saying otherwise now would put Trent in danger. So I said nothing and tried to ignore the feeling of Al's eyes on me as we continued to descend in the crappy little elevator towards what was probably an equally crappy little apartment.

"Why so anxious, itchy witch?" Al finally broke the silence, and I ducked away towards the other side of the elevator as he ran a hand over my arm, making my goose bumps even worse.

"How far down does this thing go?" I asked, absently running my hand over my arms to try and make the little hairs lay flat again.

"All the way down, love. Be patient, we're nearly there."

"Nearly there" turned out to be another five minutes of me trying to ignore the demon in the elevator with me as he annoyingly hummed the theme from…cripes, from The Love Boat, almost as loud as humanly, or would that be demonically, possible. He wasn't trying to touch me again, or even stand irritably close, but just having him in the elevator with me, a cramped, close space, was maddening. I could sense his stillness, his waiting as he watched me without his eyes; it was like being stalked by an undead vamp, only worse.

Suddenly the lift jerked to a stop, and I had to catch myself on the wall with one hand to keep from spilling Mr. Fish's bowl. A little of the water still slopped out, but thankfully not onto me. Apparently the doors opened directly into Al's apartment, displaying a rather large, not quite so shabby front room. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I had thought.

"Welcome to my humbled abode, Rachel. Extremely humble, and I have you to thank for that, don't I?" Al said, and I glanced back at him, alarmed. I didn't think he was really still mad about me getting him locked-up in demon prison and having to sell his possessions, living space included, to get out on bail and make my life a living hell. But looking at the glimmer in his red goat eyes, I wasn't sure. I shook my head and stepped out of the elevator, hoping movement would hide my nervousness. I'd expected some trouble and Al's general hissy fits, but if Al was planning on using his teaching time to extract some revenge, then these twenty-four hours were going to be long and painful.

"So, you going to give me the tour?" I asked, rocking back slightly on my feet at Al's poisonous look.

"Sure thing, love," he drawled with a mock bow. He moved towards the center of the room, irritation plain in his every step, but I was just glad to have him further away from me.

"This," he said with a grand gesture to encompass the front room, "Is half of what remains of my previously sprawling and decadent abode. And lucky for us, this room doubles as the bedroom," he mocked while gesturing towards the scruffy looking couch. "Leave your things there," he ordered, his mood changing from pissed-off drama queen to unpredictable in a moment. "Lets go have a look at the kitchen, shall we?" Al didn't bother to wait for me, but sauntered towards the only doorway besides the elevator doors. I felt a twinge of power and turned suddenly, shocked and a little horrified to find the elevator doors were gone. I knew I would be here for the full twenty-four hours, but still, it was grossly unnerving to be see as well as know I was trapped with Al.

I hurried to catch-up before Al could come back and drag me in. As unimpressive as the front room was, the kitchen made up for it. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting when Al had held off our lessons to find a kitchen that wouldn't embarrass him. This, however, was just amazing. There were certainly some things reminiscent of a kitchen, like the counters, prep areas, cabinets, sinks, dishes, and stove tops. But it was also a hybrid space, a mix also between a laboratory and a study. Books filled a floor-to-ceiling shelf, a fireplace smoldered on the far wall, and strange glasses and instruments cluttered the counters. Al watched my face carefully as I took in every inch of his kitchen, and despite my still strained nerves, I couldn't push down the excitement bubbling within me.

"So," I said, trying not to grin like an idiot, "what are we doing first?"

Al's carefully neutral face broke into a grin. He gripped my shoulder tightly and steered me none-too-gently towards the sink. "We? We are doing nothing. You? You are doing the dishes," he said and pushed me pointedly at the sink.

"What?" I growled, spinning back at him and clenching my fists ineffectively. "I'm not your damn familiar. I'm your student!" I reminded him while he grinned down at me. "Do your own damn dishes," I added weakly.

"And how can we do any productive, my itchy witch, unless there are clean implements at hand?" Al said reasonably and before I could argue back, he strode back into the front room, assuming he had won the argument.

I glanced at the sink, both sides overflowing with dishes. No freaking way. I filled my lungs to yell at him, but the book case caught my eye. I couldn't see Al through the arch to the front room, so hopefully he couldn't see me. I turned on the tap and practically tip-toed over to the book case, my eyes hungrily taking in the rows and rows of promising books. I choose a red leather-bound volume of medium thickness and turned the book that had been next to it on the shelf so I could put it back in it's proper place with Al unaware. Demon books rarely had titles and never anything useful like a table of contents. I started flipping through the pages but stopped when I got to a spell on how to make a person's entrails slither out of their mouth. I slipped the book back on the shelf and choose another, a slim book with a blue and black diamond patterned cover. My eyes got wide at the first spell I saw contained a complex description on how ley lines reverberate to individual signatures so as to better track a magic source. I skipped the technical stuff though I planned on going back to it since it seemed to contain information about the nature of ley lines themselves. I skimmed the ingredients; they were too simple and I was afraid something else would be insanely difficult but still I felt a huge grin forming on my face. If someone, anyone, tapped a ley line, theoretically he or she left enough of an imprint that this spell could pick it up from any intersecting line, which was practically any line since they connected all over the world! That would just be so…awesome.

I gasped at the grip on my arm. I dropped the book as Al spun me around and yanked me close. The scent of clean linen mixed with the pervasive stink of burnt amber was too much and I felt almost light-headed. Pushing away from him only made the grip on my upper arm tighter. I contemplated kicking him where I knew it would hurt, but the anger plain on his face made me reconsider.

"Bad little witch," he said softly. His other hand came up and gripped my chin, pulling my face up towards his. "And just what were you looking for love, hmm?"

"Just looking," I said and gasped when his hand on my face tightened. I fought the urge to stick my tongue out at him. He wouldn't really hurt me, right?

"I assigned you a task, student. And you will perform it," he said menacingly before releasing me and giving me a strong push towards the sink. I stumbled but recovered quickly, turning to face him before he could grab at me again.

"I want to do that spell," I said in a voice that I hoped sounded stronger than I felt. Al raised his eyebrows, his face blank as I gestured weakly towards the book I had dropped on the floor.

Al bent down and picked-up the book carefully, turning the pages and looking as if he had just picked it out himself for some light reading. His fingers paused at a page and he turned the book towards me. "This spell?" he asked, and I nodded, wondering how he had known which page I had looked at last. He smiled at me beatifically, displaying nearly all his blocky teeth. "No," he said, still smiling, and the book in his hand disappeared suddenly.

"Why not?" I shouted as he hauled me towards the sink by the elbow. I tried to kick out at him, but he went all misty and I overbalanced and crashed onto the floor. An elegantly booted foot kicked out at me, but I rolled out of the way and got back to my feet. Al watched as I backed up, feeling safer having something at my back. I glanced behind for only a second. Damn it, I had backed-up to the sink.

"You're supposed to teach me stuff," I said and Al smirked at my announcement. "I'm not doing your damned dishes, so unless you want to bitch slap each other around all day, then teach me the dumb spell." I said with more clout, but added a little tentatively at the end since I couldn't expect him to give-in without reason, "And I'll do the dishes after you teach me the spell."

Al shook his head but didn't cross the kitchen to try and pulp me again, which I thought was an improvement. "Rachel Marianne Morgan, you are exasperatingly stubborn, but I do always enjoy a challenge," he said in his precise British accent. I hated the way his eyes looked at me, not like being checked out, precisely, but calculating at the same time, as if anticipating not only what I would look like without clothes, but also how quick I might move, how hard I could hit, and what I might be hiding. Needless to say, it was discomforting.

Al shifted his stance suddenly, holding out his gloved hands in a sign of concession. "We can work on a spell first, but not that spell, and afterwards you'll do all the dishes and whatever other tasks I ask of you," he said with a grin.

That didn't sound good, and his grin made the desire to kick him in the 'nads so strong I had to clench my hands onto the counter edge to deter myself from charging at him. But I could play this smarter though; he probably expected me to lose it and try to get physical. I shook my head, "I'm not agreeing to anything open-ended with you."

His grin hadn't faded in the least, but I cut him off before he could say respond. "The spell, the dishes, and then we'll see," I said, and fought the urge to flip him off as he leered at me. "Damn it, Al!" I practically shouted. "We've been over this before, so just get over it and start acting like a teacher and not a pervert!"

Al chuckled lightly but turned back to the book case, carefully selecting a thick tome that had clearly seen better days. He flipped through the pages with a practiced ease before sighing in satisfaction. "Pull down the medium sized, copper cauldron," he instructed, his red eyes meeting mine of the cover of the book. "We'll do this one first."

***

My hands were red under the running hot water. The sharp smell of what I hoped was soap stung my hands slightly as I scrubbed at the last dish. Al, being the usual jerk, had made me wash all his dishes, plus the mess we had made spelling, and hadn't even offered to help dry. But then I suppose everything was going as well as could be expected, actually better. Despite his tantrums, he seemed to be a good humor now, probably just amused at having me do his spells and dishes.

I stomped back into the front room. "There, they're done. No thanks to you," I added huffily. See, more than one of us could be moody.

"I'm sorry love, did you want a gold star?" he taunted and I felt my face go red in spite of myself.

"Quit messing around," I said lamely turning from him to survey the nearly spot-less kitchen. I felt his eyes on me and tried not to fidget under the unnerving scrutiny. "So, what are we doing next?" I asked lightly, turning back around to face Al. His eyebrows shot up and he grinned at me. I tried not to let my trepidation show.

* * *

Part two next day I have off…promise.