The story takes place sometime between season 2 and 3: Dyson has is love back, Hale is not the Ash and he's still a Detective, Bo and Lauren are a couple.

-A huge thank you to Imorca for beta reading and providing insightful feedback and suggestions!

-I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. Feel free to drop a comment or a review

The music is throbbing loud in the disco. Bodies of strangers are moving frantically at the rhythm of the drums. Skin against skin, mouth against mouth. The smell of perfumes, sweat, smoke and alcohol mixed altogether is overwhelming, yet they don't seem to care. He has always found this ritual, so popular among humans, rather barbaric and unsanitary. The sweat, the touching, the heat are an unbearable torture. Why somebody with an ounce of common sense would pay to spend a night herded like cattle in a stable? Nonetheless, he finds that when his appetite grows, this kind of place is the ideal hunting ground. The crowd offers him opportunity and protection, he can select from a wide array of types and nobody will ever remember him. The perpetual flux of people coming and going reduces the chance of bumping into the same woman twice. It happened once; he immediately recognized her as she did him, and he feared she would make a scene, but she didn't. She turned around and walked away ashamed, upset and confused.

Someone once asked him whether he felt uncomfortable using his gift to his own convenience. 'No,' he had answered, 'why should I? It was given to me by birth and I honor it by making the most of it.' As a matter of fact, Brian learned early on in life that being a telepath can be a great gift if you select well what to listen to, especially if you don't feel invested with some higher moral responsibility to help people and let them suck you in a spiral of guilt. The look of panic in their eyes when they realize that their most hidden fantasies, their darkest secrets and shameful thoughts are at your mercy. It's always such an adrenaline rush that temporary relieves his insatiable craving for power and control.

He walks through the crowd, searching and scanning for his next 'company'. All these thoughts are so idle and boring: sex, money, job, midterm tests, feed the cat, pay the bills, is he going to call? Should I call?

He rolls his eyes in disdain. Why are people so 'ordinary'? He's about to turn around and leave, when he sees her. Her blonde curls waving at the rhythm of the music, her carefree smile lighting up her blue eyes, her mind is like a dolphin swimming in the ocean, eager to have fun and go on an adventure. There she is. He approaches her with a smirk. Ah, this is food for thought.

-Five years later-

At first Kenzi decides to ignore her phone ringing and lazily rolls on her side hugging her blanket tightly. "Shut up! It's Sunday," she mutters without opening her eyes. Once the ringing ceases she smiles to herself; Kenzi versus nasty phone: 1- 0.

The past weeks have been a living nightmare during which she managed only a few hours of sleep and had way too much alcohol. It's the same old dance; every time she swears she'll quit drinking, until the night after when Hale presents her with a bottle and his mischievous smile, and she magically forgets her vow. Every time he mocks her about her drinking habit, she tries to persuade him that it's not a question of willpower; heavy drinking is embedded in her genealogy. Unfortunately, that doesn't apply as well to her low resilience to hangover.

The quiet is broken again, this time by some giggles and whispers from the bedroom upstairs. Kenzi chastises herself when, for a moment, she thinks of how things could evolve between Hale and her. They've spent a lot of time together lately, and sometime it feels like they are dancing with the thought of giving it a try. Other times, instead, she gets the opposite vibe and thinks that after all he doesn't see her as anything more than a friend. Like few nights before when they were sitting at the Dal, eyeing each other flirtatiously and she was gearing up for her Kenzi moves. Then the longest eyelashes she's ever seen, came by introducing herself as Dalila, an old friend, and stole her act. The siren spent sometime going down the memory lane with his old friend, sitting there with a dazed smile and his stupid hat. Kenzi kept sipping her vodka and staring at her favorite boots, pretending not to care that Hale was flirting with a totally hot stranger. She felt like a pole dancer who starts her sexy dance and realizes that there's a bunch of shocked nuns instead of a party of horny fellows sitting at the tables, and staring at her bazooms. Awkward Moment.

After all snarling things up may not be a good idea. Sure, there's the great chemistry between Hale and her, and those perfectly chiseled abdominals of his that she would very much enjoy becoming friend with; but also a shipload of complications. He's Fae, she's human. His family is filthy rich, while she lived in the sewers. He's a detective and he usually arrests and not dates someone like her…

Kenzi kicks these thoughts away; thou shalt not think in the morning. She buries herself under the covers, motivated in not letting her phone, her bound-to-fail resolutions about alcohol, her sentimental doubts and Bo's sexual life deprive her of her weekend sleep. She pulls the blanket over her head trying to lull herself back into sleep, but that doesn't muffle the giggling and chuckling that soon escalate into frantic sighs.

Kenzi crumples her blanket in a ball and throws it away. She rolls her eyes and sits up, silently begging the room to stop whirling around.

"I swear I won't ever touch a drop of alcohol again," she groans, dragging the words.

Given the persisting squeaking sound of the bed springs, Kenzi deduces that last night's dinner with Lauren went well and she rekindled things with Bo, again.

She can't help a smile at the realization. She had her initial reservations about Lauren, and for a while she kept her hopes up for team Dyson, but she can't deny the deep and sincere connection between her succubus friend and Lauren, and she knows that both of them deserve some real happiness.

Bo's romantic rollercoaster haven't been helpful for the business; over the past month Kenzi procured five cases that could have brought in some good money, and heartbroken Bo refused any compensation. Except in one case, when Kenzi took the client's money behind her friend's back.

So, between supporting a depressed Bo, bar tending at the Dal as a consequence of a lost bet against Trick, and trying to work some cases solo when they didn't involve crazy trolls or a fae plague, Kenzi has forgotten what a full night of sleep means.

She takes a deep breath and tries stabilizing her dizziness.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Relax.

The room eventually slows down and Kenzi hints a proud smile, when her phone starts ringing. Again.

"Damn it!" she hisses exasperated. Eventually she gets up from the couch, cursing her phone, the thin walls of the apartment, the booze and Saturday mornings.

While fixing herself some coffee she looks around: the house is a mess, as usual. Beside the couch there's a heap of clean laundry that has been waiting to be folded for four days. The small table in front of the television is covered with empty bottles of vodka, whiskey, wine, ginja, cherries in syrup, coke, popcorn, a carton of chocolate-chip ice cream that melted all over, and pizza boxes. The mayhem extends to the kitchen counter where various containers of Chinese food and half eaten tacos are resting at the mercy of the elements. Maybe a spring roll will merge with the nachos and create a mutant that would hunt her in her sleep. It would sneak up on her and try to stab her with chopsticks. But gorgeous Kenzi would kick its ass with a kung fu panda move and knock it out with a wok. Jeez, being a super warrior is exhausting, she thinks while last night's booze dances a tango in her stomach. Whoa! Coffee therapy needed against the rise of the mutant tacos!

Sweet, strong, hot, divine distilled, comforting coffee.

"Oh my god! This house looks like a dumpster!" Bo's imperative voice takes Kenzi by surprise.

"I know," she yawns turning to face the cheerful Succubus.

"Wow, Kenzi, what happened to you? Go back to sleep. You're a wreck."

"That was the plan, until you, Bowesome lady, and your friend decided to give a little concert," she winks with a smirk.

"I know," Bo gives her a mangling hug. "Lauren stayed over for dessert."

The succubus beams while pouring two cups of coffee and runs back upstairs. "Ah, your phone is ringing!" she calls before disappearing for the second round.

Kenzi looks around dejectedly. Sometimes Bo forgets that normal people don't have a sex-rechargeable battery.

That nasty phone might end up winning this round after all. Eventually she checks all the messages she's got by the same caller: Alison. While listening to the voice messages, she scribbles an address on a napkin that has 'Red Dragon Restaurant' and matching silhouette printed on it. A few drops of soy sauce have blurred the print so that the dragon now looks more like a slug. It makes her smile.

oOo

Kenzi wavers as she places her hand on the handle of the café door. She tells herself that this is a very bad idea one last time, and finally walks in. Common sense teaches that once you manage to get some people out of your life you shouldn't be so stupid to let them in again. But Kenzi knows people are also capable of changing, and they can surprise you if you give them the chance. At least she learned so after a certain unaligned succubus has taken her in and made her feel part of a family, after a long time of flying solo in the streets.

The café is almost deserted. Only a couple of people are sitting across each other at a greasy table, leaning against the window and trying to sober up after spending the night partying hard. It is the kind of place where wasted folks go to get rid of the booze with some dark coffee and a greasy pancake. They eye Kenzi suspiciously as she passes by and immediately lose interest going back to a numb oblivion.

She finally spots her guest. She has chosen a corner table under the only non-functioning light; by-product of a lifetime spent pursuing invisibility. She's staring intently at her hands wrapped around a cup of steaming coffee. When Alison raises her gaze and greets the newcomer with a faint smile, Kenzi realizes she looks exactly the same as five years ago: the same magnetic beauty and the same intelligent look. She sits across from her and turns the cup to a solicitous waitress who promptly walks to the table with a menu in one hand and a pot of boiling coffee in the other. Her nametag says that she's Nancy; a slim, twenty- something brunette who's too tired to smile. Her chignon is half undone and her uniform, one size too big for her, dangles on her skinny body, making her resemble to a clumsy mannequin. Kenzi looks at Nancy walking back to the counter and then at the place. One row of booths runs along the side of the bar; the red leather benches are torn and lurid, and the black tables are covered with scratches and indecent messages carved by clients.

"I thought you would never come." Alison finally speaks.

"I thought you would never stop calling," Kenzi answers with a pointed look.

"You are still pissed at me. Aren't you?"

"Once I learn a lesson I don't forget it, Alison. So why don't you cut to the chase and tell me why I'm here?"

The young woman is roughly Kenzi's age. Her blonde hair tied behind her neck underlines her gaunt cheekbones and the dark shades around her blue eyes. Despite the extreme thinness and her apparent sleep deprivation, she's still very attractive. She wears a pair of jeans, military boots and a worn out grey hoodie; for a while she stares at the rough surface of the table, nervously playing with an empty sugar bag and not uttering a word.

"I suppose you expect my apologies," she finally speaks.

"From you I expect only the worst. And I am not sure I should believe anything that comes out of your mouth."

Expect always the worst from people, so they cannot disappoint you. These are the exact words Alison told Kenzi when they met for the first time. Only, back then, she didn't know how seriously she had to take that advice. Alison had been in the streets much longer than Kenzi. She took her under her wing and taught her pretty much all she had to know. Not that Kenzi was unable to take care of herself; but Alison knew a lot of tricks and for a while she behaved like a loyal friend. For a moment Kenzi, while reminiscing the old times, juggles with the idea that Alison might not be pure evil.

Alison smiles bitterly, "it's good to see you learned the lesson."

"I had a great teacher."

Alison takes a deep breath, and shifts uncomfortably on her seat.

"Do you remember when we had that fight with that punk, what was his name? Purple hair, nose ring, Celtic tattoo, he was bragging all the time about being Jennifer Lopez secret lover…"

"Billy Blum." Kenzi recalls, unable to keep from smiling at the memory.

"He said that we could not sleep in our corner anymore because it was his territory and we had to pay the rent," Allison continues.

"In cash or in faors," Kenzi completes the memory arching her nose in disgust.

They end up laughing, "God, it felt so good to steal all his clothes and dump them in the garbage," Alison finally manages to catch her breath.

"I still remember him crying and cursing while he chased us down the streets," Kenzi rubs her eyes in the attempt to wash away the image of a plump, angry boy running after them in military boots and bright pink underwear, and nothing else, "the pimps went on calling him lover boy for months."

They sober up in silence. The memory of their past complicity makes them feel even more distant now. It seems a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago.

"I am not proud of what I did back then. I cared about you as if you were my sister, but I got in trouble with the wrong people and I needed money…"

"So you ran away with all we had in the middle of the night? You left me with nothing. I woke up and all I had was my clothes and a pair of boots. Not even the money for breakfast, not a freaking note!" Kenzi waves her hands when words fail her, "you don't do this to a sister. If you had asked me I would have done anything to help you."

"You couldn't. I had to go away," Alison counters feebly. She knows how deeply she hurt Kenzi, and there is no making up for that.

"I really need your help now. I don't have the right to ask, I know. But I don't have anybody else to turn to," she stares at Kenzi with a crippled smile and tears in her eyes.

There. This is how the lion pretends to be a lamb and, once your guard is down, -bang!- strikes to the jugular.

Kenzi takes a deep breath, torn by mixed feelings. She tries to imagine what Bo would do in her place. A part of her cannot get over the fact that Alison has betrayed her trust once and, as far as she knows, she might be in for a second round. But there is a dim, insistent voice urging her to show a bit of compassion and not to hold on to the past.

"Listen, you jammed my phone with messages saying you need a P.I. , so I'll give you ten minutes to explain what's the deal. If I don't like it, I'm going to leave and you'll never call me again. Understood?" A part of Kenzi feels really proud for giving her undeserving former friend a second chance, whereas another one is already sniffing problems.

"Fair enough," Alison drops the torn sugar bag and stares at her hands for a long instant, "Five years ago, soon after I… left, I met a guy at a party. Handsome, carefree, a bit rough, but I didn't mind back then. I was stupid and shallow, and thought I was always the smartest one. We had fun for a while and then he disappeared. Few weeks later I found out that I was pregnant. I kept the child, never looked for him, never wanted anything from him, until a month ago when he magically appeared. He was furious. He said that I didn't have the right to make this decision by myself, that keeping the kid was a mistake and I could never be a good mother to him because he's special and I don't know how to raise him right."

"Sounds like a douchebag," Kenzi comments while Alison hands her a picture of herself hugging a blonde kid with a big smile who looks roughly four years old.

"You bet. And his family is even worse. Few days after, his mother showed up, and offered me half a million to give up custody of Mike."

Kenzi widens her eyes and looks at Alison, unable to voice the question.

"No, I didn't take it. I told her to stay away from me and my kid."

"What did they say when you refused?"

"Nothing. People like them don't talk or ask. They take what they want and that's it," Alison rubs her hands on her face in exhaustion.

"What do you mean?"

"One day I went to pick Mike up at the kindergarden and the teacher told me that his grannies had already taken him home. I called his father hundreds of times, but he never answered."

"Did you report the kidnapping to the police?"

"Yes. I met with two officers. They seemed alright. They told me they were going to do everything possible and to contact them if Mike's grandparents got in touch with me."

Kenzi is lost, "Well, if the police are handling the case, how do you think I can help?"

"For once, I don't trust the police. And I had the feeling those detectives were keeping something from me. They were exchanging continuously looks and measuring their words."

"Maybe they were just trying to be kind. Your kid had just been kidnapped, you were in shock…" Kenzi offers.

"Or my ex is loaded and could buy them off easily," Alison opposes desperately. "Please." She whimpers before her voice cracks.

Kenzi feels suddenly guilty for holding her grudge against Alison. She feels that their fallout is a childish episode compared to what Alison is going through now, and finally caves in, "I can try to see if I can dig up some info, ok?"

As she says the words, she sees a trace of hope lighting up Alison's face.

"Give me the name of this family of douchebags and the number of the detectives working the case. I have a friend at the police and maybe he can run some checks for me. In the meantime, lay low, try to get some sleep and let me know if they get in touch with you."

Alison rubs a tear rolling down her cheek sobbing her thanks, while Kenzi gives her a reassuring look and an uncomfortable feeling sneaks up on her. It's just a hunch, but she can't get rid of this stomachache she gets every time she realizes she jumped in a hole.

-I know it might be a very slow beginning or not make any sense at all. But bear with me, I promise in the next chapter the story will start moving