It was Saturday. Saturday meant that he had no classes to teach--except for that 'study group' in the evenings, but that didn't technically count as a class--and he was restless. He didn't actually know why he was restless, except that it had been a week since he'd seen Keye, and he didn't know whether the boy would show up tonight, and...

Was he worried for him? Apparently so, since he was taking rather a long walk in order to distract himself from that silly worry. And it was silly. Keye was fine, and if he didn't show up to the class, well... what did it matter? He knew where Keye lived, and he knew the young man's signature. He could find him.

He could even not find him, and still use him for power. It wasn't actually necessary for him to get permission...

Gods, what was he thinking? Keye trusted him, adored him, worshipped him...

So did the other students who he'd singled out for special attention, magically speaking, and who were going to be very dead, once everything fell into place. Where was the difference?

Better for humanity. Better for humanity.

And then there was the kidnapping of Andrei.

Better for humanity.

What was he turning into?

He looked preoccupied, eyes focused on nothing in particular, as he strode along the street.

This is known as brooding.

Teague, on the other hand, was not brooding. He was having a pretty good time, actually, sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk with his guitar on his lap and belting out some weird song that went something like,

There was a man once, yeah, he once was -
He once made a plan
Built a circle of friends
to trap the Grim Reaper Man

It was maybe only coincidence that he happened to be singing this as Alex approached the street corner. Maybe he knew he was coming - maybe not.

His hands, covered by fraying black fingerless gloves, danced over the strings of the guitar. His dark hair was blown every which way, but miraculously not over his face. Today, his slouching figure was dressed in about three different, patched-up t-shirts, old blue jeans, and on his feet... socks. No sneakers or shoes. Just socks - and mismatched ones, at that.

A number of people had dropped change onto his guitar case - he'd left it closed, seeing as at the moment, he was just playing for fun.

The expression on Alexander's face as he caught the words of the song was utterly priceless. His steps faltered and he scanned the area, looking for the singer. When he spotted the young (?) man, he strode over.

How the hell did he know about that?

"Stop. Stop singing that song." The expression on his face had smoothed out to a blankly civil mask, but his eyes held the look of a hunted creature. Or maybe a haunted man.

What if Azrael heard the song? What if...

He would put a stop to this.

Teague looked up at him, with a drowsy smile lighting his face all the way to his cloudy-blue eyes. He ignored the command until he had finished the verse. "Somethin' the matter, sir? What? Is my voice outta tune?" he asked innocently. Like he didn't know who he was talking to. He continued to play the music to the song, but quieter so as not to interrupt the conversation. No need to be rude or anything.

Dryly. "Hardly. It's the song itself. Don't sing it. Ever." It wouldn't help, after all, if this street singer stopped singing the song now but sang it again, later and in another place. The whole point was that it was a song that could have very bad consequences for him (and Reggie and Douglas), which Alexander simply would not allow.

He looked rather menacing, glaring down at Teague. Let's not forget that he's a mage with more than thirty years of experience, my boy. He could do you some serious damage.

"No, really? Whyever not?" Teague looked at him like he wanted to laugh. "I mean, what could you, an everyday university professor, possibly have against one little song that I - just some street musician - made up? Don't take it so seriously, it's only a song. It doesn't mean anything."

And then he added thoughtfully, for the sake of being truthful, "To most people, at least."

It wasn't his intention to be antagonistic, but he'd like to see what kind of reply he was going to get this time. It was always fascinating to meet the people he so often sang about. After all, he'd never seen them before.

Instead of answering immedately, Alexander bent down and grabbed the singer by the neck of his shirt, jerking him to his feet and dragging him around the corner into a conveniently placed alley.

"Most people have no idea that you're singing about something quite true. Most people have nothing to lose if you sing it. I am not 'most people.'"

In other words, 'Yes, I know the song is about me. I have a great deal to lose if you sing it. I am not averse to using force to ensure that you never sing it again.'

Teague blinked a few times to rid his eyes of their sleepy look, as he was unceremoniously hauled into the alley. "Oh. I know you're not most people," he said, sounding nonplussed by the professor's threatening tone. "But - seriously, man - it's not like I'm yelling at the top of my lungs, 'Alexander Barclay's going to kidnap the god of Death!' "

He said the last part a little louder. He adjusted his grip on his guitar, Lucinda, and began playing something that sounded like a rock version of 'Greensleeves'.

Alexander hit him. Not hard enough to seriously damage him, but more than hard enough to inform the bard that he meant business. And hopefully hard enough to shut him up.

"You're trying my patience. Do. Not. Sing. That. Song."

It didn't matter if Teague were not 'shouting at the top of his lungs.' The point was that Death was quite intelligent enough to figure out what was going on if he heard that song, and Alexander intended to see that the god would not.

Assuming it wasn't too late.

"Ouch! The hell was that for?" Teague exclaimed, a little too late for it to be credible. His face was suddenly devoid of the passive, amused smile he'd been wearing up to that point, and became curiously emotionless. But his eyes darkened to an impending-storm colour. "Don't tell me what I can or cannot do. I will sing whatever I damn well want, understand? And if you don't like it, that's too friggin' bad."

"You're just asking for me to kill you, do you realize that?" His tone was deceptively casual, despite his inner wondering if he was really ruthless enough to kill someone... oh, who was he fooling? Of course he was. He was planning to murder a good deal of young men and women.

What was one more?

His hand closed on the neck of the guitar.

"This is important to you, I suppose?"

Teague looked startled that the man would dare to touch Lucinda. Then he glared. If looks could kill, Alexander would be dead. "Fuck you. Get your filthy hands off her," he said, a veiled threat in his level tone. His lip curled ever so slightly, and he began to pull away from the professor, intent on getting him to let go of the guitar before anything worse could happen.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." That wasn't a very nice smile at all.

With his other hand (the one not holding the guitar's neck, that is) flicked down to the base of the guitar and tugged the strap off the little peg. With his hand on the guitar, he jerked, wrenching the instrument out of the bard's hands and taking a quick step away.

"Good."

And he slammed her into the alley wall.

That can't be very good for the guitar.

"No! Lucinda!" Teague gasped, eyes wide with horror. He fell to his knees, frantically trying to gather together the pieces the guitar had snapped into, and cradling them carefully like he was holding a baby. It made a broken twanging sound. His eyes filled with tears. He turned on Alexander, the look of fury and hurt mingling on his face to form a pained grimace. "You bastard, you - you nearly killed her!... You broke Lucinda! How could you?!"

He stroked the splintered wood with trembling fingers, whimpering,"It's okay,.. it's okay, we'll find some way to fix you..." Though with the state the guitar was in..., it would be weeks before he could afford the repairs. If said repairs were even possible. That was one messed-up guitar.

Alexander watched impassively for a few moments, then bent and tapped the weeping bard on the shoulder.

"Ahem."

The smile was very cold, very cruel, and very sharp.

"If you sing that song again, it won't be the guitar I kill."

Yes, that was a death threat, and it is, unfortunately, one that he is quite able and capable of carrying out.

Why does Keye like this man again?

The young man raised his head to glare at Alexander, fury smoldering in his tear-filled eyes. "You're gonna pay for this. You're going to pay for hurting Lucinda." Teague (obviously) took his guitar very seriously. Death threats or no death threats, this man had broken Lucinda, and he couldn't just let that pass.

He stood up straight to face Alexander. "I told you once and I'll tell you again - I will sing any song I damn well want. Go rot."

He gave Alexander the one-finger salute, then deliberately strolled out of the alley. Plucking aimlessly at the remaining unbroken strings of the guitar, and coming up with a very off-kilter tune, Teague began singing at the top of his lungs:

There was a man once, yeah, he once was -
He once made a plan
Built a circle of friends...

Alexander couldn't decide if the singer was stupid or if he was just stubborn as all hell. But guess what? So is the professor, and he also has a hell of a lot more to lose than his life if Death found out about the plan...

So of course he followed Teague.

"Hey!" I don't want to kill you, but if I have to... "Boy!"

He's at a disadvantage here; Teague knows his name, but he doesn't know Teague's. It's annoying.

... there was probably a spell to make the man's voice hoarse, but he couldn't think of one at the moment...

...to trap the Grim Reaper Man

Teague glared at Alexander from half-lidded eyes, and stopped the song after that first verse. "Why don't you just clear off already, Barclay," he said sullenly. "Or what, you're gonna kill me right here, where anyone can see you do it? Bite me."

He turned his back on Alexander, to gently place his broken guitar back in its case. He closed the case, and picked it up. He didn't want to let Lucinda get broken any worse, now did he?
Turning back to the professor/mage, Teague actually smiled. "You know, I wonder what that blond protegé of yours would think of this," he said musingly. "Oh, what's his name... Keye, isn't it?"

"Oh, give me more credit than that. I'm not stupid enough to... how the hell do you know Keye?"

Not fair, Teague, not fair at all. Keye is probably the only person in many years who's found the heart under that icy exterior, and Alexander doesn't like admitting that. Then again, Teague probably knows that, or at least a little of it.

Wonder how much else he knows... Anything about the first eighteen years of Alexander's life?

That would be interesting.

"Of," Teague corrected, "I know of him. Quite a bit of him. Probably more than you. I think he'd be totally heartbroken to know what you're really up to. He seems to be pretty fragile - who knows that revelation could do to him?"

Fair? Alexander broke Teague's guitar.
And as they say, all's fair in love and war.

So, this is love, right?

"Really. And what, precisely, do you know of him?" There's more to that question than the surface. If Teague knows about the plot to capture Death, who's to say what else he might know about Alexander's... less savory... activities?

This is rather worriesome. He might kill Teague anyway, just to be on the safe side of things.

And somehow, the idea of Keye knowing about all this makes Alexander feel oddly sick to his stomach...

"Ahhhh, let's see." he said, turning his gaze to the sky as if he was thinking really hard about it. "Well. It depends. What, precisely, do you want to know of him?" He echoed Alexander's words, a smug smirk twisting his lips. "Why do you want to know? And what makes you think I'll tell you what I know? "

Gah. Alexander hates it when he's the one at a disadvantage.

"Perhaps that you would like to keep your hands intact, for the time when you've had... Lucinda, wasn't it?... repaired? It's difficult to play with shattered hands, you know. As to your first question... I would say that my reasons are my own."

In other words, none of your business, trash boy.

"Uh-huh," Teague scoffed, though he didn't doubt for a second that Alexander would carry through on his threat. As long as he could still sing, everything would be okay. But that didn't mean he was going to sacrifice his hands. "Well, how about this? Bet you didn't know his demon took a little stroll on its own recently."

"What? Is he all right?" Of course that would be his first reaction. He's genuinely worried, and it shows in his eyes.

Ah, dammit. And here Alexander had been doing so well at pretending to be heartless and cold. And now Teague knows that Keye is very much a weak point in that shell of the professor's.

Dammit again.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Teague said darkly, evading a direct answer just to torture him. He liked to see that look Alexander had on. He wondered if he should tell the professor something really cruel - like, Keye was jumping off a bridge at this very moment. Unfortunately, it just wasn't in Teague's nature to lie - because otherwise, he would.

Backtrack. Rewind, and pretend that he hadn't immediately asked about Keye's welfare when the bard said that about the demon. It probably wasn't even true... Uh huh. And he didn't believe that any more than you do.

"Of course I want to know. As you said, he is my protege."

The emotions went back into their little locked box, but they had most definitely been there, plain for any to read, on his face.

"Your protegé, yes. You have quite a few of them, don't you? Are they all that special to you?" Teague asked innocently. Alexander could pretend if he wanted, but Teague had seen that look in his eyes, heard the worried tone of voice - here, finally was a button to push. And Teague was going to take advantage of it for as long as he could.

"They aren't all demon possessed, nor do they all have his kind of dreams. Keye is unique." His eyes were very, very carefully blank. "My interest in him is purely professional."

Riiiiight. And that explains why he calls the boy 'son,' and hugs him and wouldn't let him commit suicide. Oh yes, it's all quite professional.

"Professional -... As if," Teague laughed, rolling his eyes. "So by that definition, 'professional' is paying the medical bill when he got his eye stabbed, and takin' hime home for lunch and - what was that dessert stuff? Trifle? Ha.. Yep, I'm so sure you're that professional with all your special students."

Alexander snarled something impolite and kept from hitting Teague again--much, much harder this time--by only the barest of margins. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him fighting in the streets...

"I have had students to lunch before," he said tightly. Granted, that was years ago, back when he was still a relatively new teacher, but it was still true. Honest.

"And you called them by their first names? Or what's the other one...-" he gave a completely wicked grin. " 'Son'? Yyyyeah. Self-explanatory there, Barclay. There's more, too - don't think I don't know."

He smiled, giving the impression that he had just struck a point.

Maybe he did strike a point.

Alexander, on the other hand, struck his jaw. Much, much, much harder than he'd hit the bard before. Possibly hard enough to break it, and certainly hard enough to bruise.

"That," he growled, with a definite effort to keep calm, "Is none of your business."

Guilty conscience, anyone?

"Geh..." Teague choked out, shocked. He was flung backwards by the blow, but quickly righted himself. He grimaced in pain, feeling his jaw with his fingertips and carefully working it to see if it was still properly attached. Yep. Hurt a lot, but still attached. "Geez, d'you always fly off the handle like that when someone shows you up? Hell. Look, if you're so sensitive about this Keye guy, why don't you see how he's doing yourself? If you care all that much - 'if you do -, you shouldn't need me to tell you about him."
He backed away a few steps, out of arm's reach, not wanting to get hit again.

Dare Alexander admit that, on some level, he's afraid of Keye? Or, rather, of Keye's demon. The thing is dangerous, he knows that, even if he hasn't actually seen it in action. And...

"Again. None of your business."

On another level, he's afraid of what letting Keye get too close to him will do to the boy. (And to him.) If anything goes wrong, Azrael is going to be very annoyed with all three conspirators, and anyone close to them is liable to get caught in the backlash.

And on a third level, having Keye around leaves Alexander confused, about his own feelings for the boy and about a few other things. Like whether there's still a woman in there somewhere.

Throw in guilt, and you have a very interesting mix.

"Just answer the question."

"Well, then - he's fine. As close to normal and okay as that guy can get, as far as I can tell," Teague shrugged. He found he'd kind of lost his taste for antagonism after that last hit, and had shed the smug look in favor of a sullen glare. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have way better things to do than talk to you. I have some serious work to do. So you have fun with your death trap and your pet student. Who I may be having a talk with in the near future."

It was an idle threat - getting revenge in that way was too much like meddling. And Teague didn't want to mess around in other people's lives. He turned his back on Alexander and began to slouch away.
Note, he still hadn't agreed not to sing the song that Alexander hates so much.

Alexander's hand closed on the young man's shoulder before he could get very far.

"Ahem. The song?"

Maybe now, with a couple bruises and an assurance that Alexander wasn't (entirely) blowing hot air, the bard would at least be worried enough for his own skin that he would agree not to sing the song.

Or perhaps he needed a bit more... uh... convincing.

Alexander could do that. He's decided that he didn't like Teague, at all.

"I told you twice. Don't make you tell me three times. You know the answer," Teague looked back at him, with a really disgusted expression. The answer had been that he would sing anything he wanted, when he wanted - though... he didn't particularly want to sing that one song anymore. Not within Alex's hearing range, anyway.

"Yes, I know the answer. I also know that I will not hesitate to kill you unless you give me the answer I want..." Of course, after it all falls into place and the plan is complete, he will have no objection. After all, Azrael will no longer be a danger.

"Perhaps we can strike a compromise."

Shock, gasp. Alexander is willing to bargain with street boy Teague? My, my, my...

"Compromise?..." Teague looked suspiciously at him, hoping it wasn't something stupid like, 'don't sing the song, and I won't kill you'. While he was still really angry, he wasn't going to be unreasonable. His eyes narrowed, and he turned back to face the professor. "What kind of compromise?"