A/N: You asked for a sequel, you got it. You know I don't own Xiaolin Showdown. If I did I wouldn't be up to my eyeballs in college debt. Written purely for fun. Creative crit welcome, flamers go do something more useful with your time.

Jack Nanthaniel Spicer was a private man.

He taught his classes well. His test scores were immaculate and his curriculim sound. Not an administrator could fault his method or professionalism.

But no colleague could tell you what Spicer ate for breakfast. How he spent his free time. What his favorite movie was. As a matter of fact, no one on the college campus could confess to really knowing Professor Jack Spicer at all, which was all good for him, as his early career had been a bit lucrative to say the least, and some sleeping dogs are much better left lying.

But one thing was certain. The members of the campus community knew that their Physics Professor was in a relationship. He had to be. He wore a ring on the right finger. And it never came off.

It was a plain silver band, clearly of high quality, but also old; his students could tell by the scratches. Professor Spicer sometimes toyed with the ring as he lectured, twisting it, pulling it on and off. Some pupils swore they saw words engraved on the inside, but no one asked.

Jack Spicer was a private man.

/-/-/-/

It was s Tuesday, a Tuesday in the middle of May, and Houston was hit with a downpour that, as her natives would say, "Was like trying to see straight through herd-dust." For the uninitiated of other states, that meant wet. Very wet.

The Advanced Physics class was well underway, the students ignoring the rain as best they could. Jack Spicer seemed to acknowledge his students' dilemma, and did his best at keeping his lesson interesting, but there was only so much one could do with equations. Finally he threw up slim, pale hands.

"I give up." He said with a small grin, his red eyes glittering in amusement. "Go play in the rain, children!"

No one was about to argue, and they were packing their bags for the journey into the rain when the door slammed open.

A woman stood there. In her youth she must have been overweight; age and grace added a sort of beauty to her. Her bright blue eyes were wide. Her leather jacket was soaking wet. In her right hand she held a bright purple motorcycle helmet, also dripping.

"Jessica?" Jack asked, slowly closing the textbook. The woman stepped inside the classroom, trembling slightly.

"Jack," she said, "There's been an accident."

/-/-/-/

It is a plain silver band of the highest quality, covered in scratches, both large and small. Inside the rim, worn smooth with oil and time, are etched words.

To my Yellow Rose of Texas- you are mine, forevermore.