rivers_bend

Written for the hw_fest Prompt 187 (I think…) What if House and Wilson were potential watchers in the Buffyverse?
Title: Someone to Watch Over Me
Author: rivers_bend
Words: ~10,000
Rating: whatever an episode of Buffy would be rated… but not like Two to go or anything. Oh, and there's some swearing.
Summary: For some doctors, medicine is not their only calling.

A/N: This is necessarily AU. I've taken some liberties with the timelines; this is set prior to House MD S1, and sometime probably around series 5 of Buffy. I've made some of my own rules about the nature of being a potential slayer and a watcher. Apologies to the genius of Joss Whedon and his Buffyverse, but these crossovers get complicated!

Thank you thank you to skyblue_reverie, tigertrapped and karaokegal for comments, criticisms, and laughing at my witticisms.



Wilson could see House was on the phone when he walked past the office. He was going to just keep going and not interrupt, but House saw him and gestured that Wilson should meet him out on their balcony. Wilson walked through his own office and stood, waiting, watching the sun set into the smog.

“You’ll never guess who that was on the phone.” House’s voice was a dead giveaway.

“Rupert Giles.” Wilson tried not to sound smug.

“How on earth did you know it was 'Ripper'?”

“Your accent is slipping. You always go back to British when you speak to Giles.”

“Bugger.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Shite then.”

“The word you’re looking for is 'shit'. And don’t worry about it. We’re alone out here, and your accent is usually flawless. None of these Americans would ever guess you’re really an Englishman in disguise.”

House cleared his throat and squared his shoulders before speaking again. “Giles said the council is sending us someone.”

“What? Someone who? Not to train I hope. I thought we were purely research these days.” Wilson took a couple of deep breaths, realizing that nervousness was allowing his own dialect to creep around the edges of the flawless East Coast standard voice he’d worked so hard to acquire.

“She’s fully trained apparently. As a potential and as a doctor. She went to medical school when she reached that magical twentieth birthday and she knew she was never going to be called.” House gestured towards his thigh with his cane. “If she wants to keep her skills up though, you’re working with her. I have better things to do.”

Wilson pretended House hadn’t said that. “What’s her name? Have we heard of her?”

“Allison something. Carmen? I can’t remember, something like that. She’s arriving tomorrow. We’ll have to book an interview for her so Cuddy doesn’t ask too many questions.”

* * * * * *

There was absolutely no reason at all for Wilson to be sitting in on an interview for a new fellow for House’s department, but Cuddy had long since given up questioning anything the two men did. There was something just a little bit queer about them, both individually and in concert with each other, but they were among the best doctors she’d ever worked with.

She’d merely sighed when Wilson called her office to ask her to come up to meet the new woman House was hiring. When Cuddy got to the diagnostics department, she found House leaning so far back in his chair it was amazing he didn’t fall. Wilson was talking to the woman sitting across from them as though this were in fact an interview for oncology. She was a skinny thing, more girl than woman, with appalling taste in clothes and shoulder length hair that nearly overwhelmed her face. Cuddy knocked on the door and went in.

The interviewee stood and crossed the room as Cuddy entered. “I’m Doctor Cameron. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The girl sounded more confident than she looked.

“Doctor Cuddy. You’re going to be working with House then?” Cuddy put out her hand and was surprised by the girl’s grip. She saw a flash of something in Dr. Cameron’s eyes, but then it was gone. “Welcome to Princeton-Plainsboro.”

* * * * * *

Chase had been working for House for nearly six months. He’d seen four fellows come and go in that time. When he met Dr. Cameron, he thought that she might beat Dr. Gorgan’s 'shortest time with the team' record of thirteen days. She looked like a brisk breeze might blow her over, and House was more like a tropical storm.

As two weeks passed, and then three, his opinion changed. She absorbed House’s moods without complaint, was always on time, did all the shit-work House refused to do and Chase could never be bothered with, and she seemed to actually like the patients. When he asked her about it one day she said, “I never thought I’d get to be a doctor. I wasn’t allowed to have a lot of friends growing up. It’s nice to get to interact with people.”

Initially he thought she might want to interact a little more closely with him, but first his hints and then an outright invitation to go out for a drink were met with indifference so he dropped it. They worked well enough together that he didn’t feel too resentful.

* * * * * *

Giles didn’t want to have to ring House and Wilson. When it was just signs and rumours of something happening on the East Coast, he’d thought that sending them a potential would be enough; but Ethan Rayne was back, and House had to know. Family always seemed to cause more trouble than any hellmouth ever could.

“House, it’s Giles. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course it’s Giles. Ringing to check up on the potential are you?”

“I was actually ringing to—“

“She’s a very competent doctor, if a bit mushy with the patients. Who was her watcher? How did he let her get so sentimental?”

“Her watcher was Evelyn Roan, but that’s not why I’m phoning you. House… Ethan’s back. He escaped from the Initiative. They have reason to believe that he’s headed East.”

“Ethan." Giles could hear the scrape of fingers against stubble even across three thousand miles of phone line. "What does my cousin want these days?”

“I can’t say. But the last time I saw him he turned me into a Fyarl demon. He’s not the boy you grew up with, House.”

“I didn’t imagine for a moment that he was, Giles.”

“You’ll tell Wilson of course?”

“Of course.” But House sounded distant, and Giles wasn’t sure he was even still listening.

“House, be careful. He seems to harbour some resentment towards all of us who were involved with that, well, with the whole Eyghon thing. The others are all dead now. So it’s just you and me left for him to take it out on. Remember, the first time he came for me he tried to get at me through Buffy. Allison knows about him, I briefed her about our connection and that whole history before she came to you, but watch out for her. And for Wilson.”

* * * * * *

House called a meeting in Wilson’s office. Not for the first time he said, “How come you get the solid door?”

Wilson gave his stock answer. “A staff comes with glass walls. Don’t complain to me, complain to Cuddy.”

“I don’t think Cuddy trusts me.” House pouted out his lower lip as though Cuddy was being remarkably unfair.

“I think you might have answered your own question there,” Cameron replied. “What did you need to talk to us about behind closed, and solid, doors anyway?”

“Giles rang. He got confirmation today. Ethan Rayne is in New Jersey.” House tried to sound mock serious, but it was less mocking than he intended.

Wilson wasn’t fooled. “He's your cousin? How dangerous is he really?”

Cameron answered when House didn’t immediately say anything. “He’s a pretty powerful warlock. He doesn’t like to do his own dirty work – prefers to call on demons, create chaos, and sit back and watch from a safe distance.”

“He’s an evil, vindictive, cowardly little shite, and I want you two to watch out for him.” There was not a trace of American in House’s voice. He turned towards Wilson. The look in his eyes would have removed any doubt about how seriously he was taking this, had Wilson had any doubt left. “I expect he will see you as the weak link. Buffy got the better of him three times. I imagine he’s gone off slayers. He likes to think of himself as a man of action. He won’t have a lot of respect for your book-learning.”

“You’re the one who won’t do any training,” Wilson interrupted, indignant.

“I didn’t always have this cane, you know. Besides, I’ve known him since I was born. He can’t imagine that I’d fall for any of his traps.”

“Does an ego that size come with a health warning?” Cameron wasn’t as sotto voce as she thought she was. Wilson tried not to laugh at the glare the comment earned her.

* * * * * *

Chase had given up on dating people he worked with. Cameron wasn’t the first colleague who’d declined his invitations, and after her there was the ER nurse, the lab technician, and even the guy from radiology who did whatever it was he did with the films. Though at least he was his name Brad? Brian? had said “yes” to a drink, if not to going home afterwards.

The advantage of having gone out with Brian almost definitely Brian was that he’d taken Chase to a bar where quite a few of the patrons were more than happy to go home with a young blond. They didn’t know he was a doctor, that he’d lived in the states for years. He could be as dumb, as foreign, as innocent as they wanted him to be. He often got off on playing the role more than he did on what actually happened with the guys when he got them home.

Something about the guy he met on Friday night reminded Chase of House, even though he was English, and a good five or ten years older. His confidence and the way he looked Chase over, like he was something both desirable and pitiable at the same time, brought a disturbingly familiar knot to Chase’s stomach.

The man introduced himself as Ethan and bought Chase a drink – something unfamiliar with an umbrella and a ridiculous name. Chase felt it would be churlish to refuse. He didn’t do the usual round of “where are you from, do you come here often”; just put a hand on Chase’s knee and said he was in New Jersey on business. Chase didn’t bother asking what kind of business, and Ethan didn’t volunteer the information.

Chase took a look at the man’s suit and pegged him for the Hyatt or maybe the Courtyard Marriott, but Ethan said he was renting an apartment in town and invited Chase over to see the etchings left by a former tenant. The twist on the old cliché made Chase laugh and follow Ethan to his car.

* * * * * *

Wilson already knew that Allison was keeping up with her fitness routines from her days as an active potential. She’d kept up with the running; buying a treadmill for her apartment before she even bought a sofa. She took kickboxing classes at the gym, being careful to keep the full extent of her strength to herself. Until Giles' news that Ethan had come to New Jersey, Allison had always talked to House about what she was doing in the way of training. House always made it clear his cane was not just a prop -- that he wasn't any practical help -- but it still never occurred to Wilson that she would come to him with her request.

“I need weapons.” Her potential persona was so different from her doctor persona that Wilson sometimes had a hard time reconciling the two.

“Sorry, did you say weapons?”

“Knives? Crossbow? Even a staff would be better than nothing. I’m out of practice.”

“Why are you asking me?” Wilson hadn’t actually trained a potential in almost fifteen years -- a duty that had been as short lived as it was unsuccessful. “Want to know how to kill a Polgara demon, what year a particular vampire was sired and by whom, the sites of all the hell mouths over the centuries, or when in the lunar cycle it’s most likely you will successfully uncover a Grathnar demon? I’m your man. Books are more my specialty. Giles is pretty unique. Most of us tend to be more one or the other. Weapons or research.”

“Evelyn was definitely better with weapons. I guess that’s what you want with a potential. We didn’t have to do a lot of actual figuring out when any whatevers were coming, since I was never called. Anyway. My point is that I can do the training myself if you could research me up something to train with.”

Cameron, hands in the pockets of her white coat, looked so much like a doctor at that moment -- so at odds with her words -- that Wilson felt balanced precariously between two universes. He and House had been undercover, playing doctors, for so long that he’d come to believe the hospital was the only real world. Coming from a long line of watchers on his mother’s side, he’d been raised in demonology and vampire lore, but in the last decade he’d seen a lot more people die from diseases than he ever had from corporeal evil. Cameron’s words brought back the world he hadn’t even realized he’d been trying to forget.

Wilson had never wanted to be a watcher in the first place. He liked to read his mother’s books, and he was good with learning ancient languages, but from the time he was ten years old he felt his destiny lay in medicine. Destiny had other plans. His mother was fond of telling him that a calling was a calling. She had ideas that he might make it onto the Watcher’s Council some day.

When he was sixteen, James Wilson overheard his mother telling his father about the son of one of her colleagues. He too was to be a watcher. But he’d just graduated from medical school. He’d been assigned a potential in America and was going to do his residency there. That was all the ammunition James needed. If Greg House could be a watcher and a doctor, James didn’t have to give up his dreams. His mother’s further arguments fell on deaf ears.

* * * * * *

House loved nothing more than a puzzle. For a while in his youth, he’d replaced puzzles with rock and roll, drugs, and pestering his older cousin, hoping that just once he’d be allowed to add demonic possession to the list of things most likely to piss off his watcher father. Ethan, “Ripper" and the others kept him at the fringes of their more illicit activities and only let him join in when they were smoking and listening to music.

After the disaster with Eyghon, wishing to get the boy away from the influence of his wife’s nephew, House senior sent his son Gregory to medical school. It was important that watchers be able to call on a variety of skills, and it was clear that Greg was not destined for a seat on the council. Medical school seemed as good a choice as any.

Medicine was filled with puzzles, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as House had been expecting. He'd been assigned to a few potentials over the years, training himself to diagnose and treat and save lives, as he trained them to hunt and fight and kill. First, do no harm became harm first, ask questions later when it came to vampires and demons.

Wilson sometimes accused him of getting the mottos confused between his jobs. Wilson just didn’t understand the nature of diagnostics.

Chase was in early on Monday morning, and had written a list of symptoms on the white board. Surely the boy knew better by now. House erased the board, without a glimpse at the list. He liked to hear the words and write them down himself. It helped him think. Besides. He was the boss, not Chase.

“So. You’ve got a patient for us?” House thought Chase might get indignant about having his symptoms erased, but he just sat looking blankly at the board. “Chase? The patient? Male, female, age?”

Chase blinked and shook his head as though coming back from a daydream. "Female. Twenty four. Collapsed yesterday shooting a swimsuit catalogue."

"Well, I'm sure the catalogue deserved it."

"She's a model." House's wit seemed to have gone right over Chase's head.

"I'm assuming there's more wrong with her than heatstroke?"

"There was a list on the board. You erased it."

"Is the list in your head? In the file you have under your hand?"

Chase closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples, as Cameron walked into the room. "What's wrong with Chase?"

"He's trying to remember the symptoms of the patient he saw half an hour ago. Apparently this causes him pain."

Chase looked up as though he hadn't had his head buried in his hands moments before. "Pain."

"Pain? Are you repeating what I say, or is that a symptom?"

"Symptom. Pain."

Cameron tried to ease the file out from under Chase's elbow. He didn’t seem to notice, but neither did he allow her to take it.

House wrote "pain" on the board. "What kind of collapse? Fainting, legs buckling, seizure?"

Chase looked at House as though he didn't understand the words. When House tapped the pen on the board he finally spoke. "Didn't regain consciousness until she was in the ambulance on the way to the hospital."

"Chase, do you need another cup of coffee? This is like pulling teeth. With nothing but my fingers. I could write these symptoms in the snow with a stream of urine faster than you're giving them to me. Snap to it."

Chase got up and went to the coffee pot, taking the file with him. "Get one for me while you're there," Cameron requested.

"I know you can walk and talk at the same time. Are you trying to punish me for erasing your board? You know I can't stand your boxy British writing. Besides. You wrote in green. Mondays we use the black pen."

"Pain. Woke up screaming with it. Severe, localized, but moving. One minute her leg, the next her shoulder, hip, abdomen… Nothing touches it. Not Vicodin, not morphine. Even completely sedated she keeps thrashing around. Going to make any kind of scan difficult."

"Anything else? This board was pretty full when I got here. "

"I'd listed all the places she'd complained of pain."

"Ok then. Figure out a way to scan her. MRI. And do a CT while you're at it. We'll start with those."

* * * * * *

Cameron paused to let Chase catch up with her in the corridor. She thought there was something decidedly off about him this morning. He seemed to be processing everything through an extra filter, like a not very well networked computer. "Chase, are you ok today? You seem a little… out of it."

"I need you to go to the clinic for me."

"You need me to… Chase? What are you talking about? We need to go and scan -- did you tell us her name?"

Chase stopped, putting a hand out towards the wall as though he needed support. She took his wrist, trying to feel his pulse. Chase looked at her with wild eyes for a moment and pulled away. Cameron started to get seriously worried. "Chase, what is wrong with you?"

"Chastity."

This time Cameron grabbed his arm and held it with more force. "The woman's name is Chastity or a lack of sex is eating your brain? You're not making any sense."

"Sorry. I'm just tired today. Long weekend. You know how it goes." Chase gave her his most winning smile. It lost. "The patient. She's called Chastity. I'll go and see how she is. You go and book us a scan slot."

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm sure. Page me when you have a time for us."

Cameron watched as he strode off down the hall in a slightly more Chase-like fashion.

* * * * * *

Wilson and House stood out on their respective balconies, shoulders touching, hips separated by a wall, watching the people hurry past below. "Any thoughts on the new patient?"

"Even I need more information than "pain" to go by. Chase wasn’t terribly forthcoming so I was going to have a look at the file, but he seems to have taken it with him. I'm waiting for him to come back with the scan results, the file, some information, and hopefully his brain. Which he seems to have left at home this morning."

"I saw him getting out of a strange car when I came in today. Doesn’t he usually drive a white car?"

"You are such a girl sometimes. He drives a Honda. It's white, yes."

"Well, he got out of a black car this morning. Passenger side. The person behind the wheel drove off."

"If he was up all night screwing that would explain the vacant look this morning. But not why he was nearly an hour early."

"He got here at 8:30, the same time I did."

"Exactly. You know I never start at that ungodly hour."

"I don't know why Cuddy puts up with you, I really don't."

"She's a slave to the nights of passion."

Wilson kept a straight face, but only with the utmost difficulty.

* * * * * *

Cuddy found Cameron wandering around in the clinic. She looked confused. "Cameron, what are you doing here? Did House ask you to cover his hours? He can't do that."

"No. He… I don't think he's scheduled for this morning." Cuddy checked her list. The girl was right. House didn't have any hours until Wednesday. "I need to book our patient an MRI and a CT scan."

"What are you doing down here then? Imaging is upstairs."

"I needed to come to clinic for… something. I'm sure. There must have been something."

Cuddy noticed that Cameron looked flushed, as well as distracted. She laid the back of one cool hand on Cameron's cheek. "Are you ok?"

Cameron flinched at the touch. "I'm fine. I think I must have pushed the button for the wrong floor and when I saw the clinic I just assumed I was supposed to be here. I'll just go book those scans. Have a good day, Dr. Cuddy."

Cuddy watched her get back on the elevator, looking for any other signs of odd behavior. When none materialized, she forgot about the exchange, and got back to figuring out who was going to see all the patients sitting in the waiting room.

* * * * * *

Cameron got up to the imaging department and waited for the appointment clerk to be free. It wasn't until the clerk asked for the patient's file that Cameron realized that she didn't even know the patient's last name. She borrowed the phone to page Chase.

Ten minutes later he still hadn't answered her page so Cameron went back to diagnostics. She could see House and Wilson out on the balcony, but the conference room was empty. Cameron had a sudden urge to put her foot through the glass table. Instead she went out and interrupted the watchers. "Have you seen Chase?” Cameron couldn’t remember for a moment why she needed him. “He left me to make the appointments for the scans, but I don’t have any details about the patient. The appointment clerk wouldn’t even let me book a provisional time."

House glared and was about to speak, but Wilson got there first. "Did you page him?"

House turned his glare on Wilson. "She's paged him. She's not stupid." He looked at Cameron. "You're not stupid, right?"

Cameron had to think. She felt like information was more slippery than usual. "I paged him. He didn't answer. I don’t even know where the patient is."

“Do I have to do everything myself around here?” House started to head towards his office. Wilson jumped over the wall and followed him. Cameron wandered into the conference room.

Despite House’s complaints, or maybe because of them, Wilson was the one who sat down at House's desk and picked up the phone. Through the open door between the office and the conference room, Cameron could make out a few words. He seemed to be asking someone about the girl admitted last night. Hopefully he'd find out where she was. She went over to the coffee maker and put on a fresh pot. Maybe she needed to wake up more.

* * * * * *

Cuddy stood at the nurse's station in the clinic looking at her list of doctors. Their names meant nothing to her. She tried to match the names to the faces of the men and women glimpsed as exam room doors opened, releasing and admitting patients. A clicking noise interrupted her thoughts.

"Dr. Cuddy? Hello? Is there was anyone else on the schedule for today? Patients are backing up here." A woman in navy scrubs was agitatedly fidgeting with a clipboard on the edge of the desk. Cuddy rubbed her eyes.

"Brenda." Cuddy stared at the woman and then back down at her list of doctors.

"Is there any chance we’ll be getting any more doctors today?" Brenda had tilted her head and was trying to get it between the paper and Cuddy’s gaze. Brenda put a hand on Cuddy's, where she held the schedule in her fist.

Cuddy shook her head. "Dr. Azernay is due on at 11:30. That should help. I'll see a few patients in the meantime."

Brenda looked concerned. "Are you sure that's a good idea? You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine. I think I just need to drink more water. It's hot in here." Cuddy picked up the top chart in the pile. Exam room three was empty. "Mrs. Scherzach? Would you like to come with me?"

* * * * * *

His leg aching a bit, House considered taking the visitor's chair, but instead leaned his arms on Wilson's shoulders as the watcher tried to track down the location of their AWOL patient. Over the top of Wilson's head, he watched through the glass as Cameron paced and made coffee. Wilson hung up the phone and shrugged House off. "She was admitted yesterday evening. A model in pain. After that, no one knows. Admitting thinks they sent her to the third floor. The nurse there is pretty sure they sent her to the second floor sometime in the night. I spoke to an intern there and he's never heard of her."

"Page Chase again. If he answers, page me. I'll tell Cameron to find him. I need food. Do you have that ten bucks you owe me?"

"You owe me ten bucks."

"Whatever. Make it twenty then. Just give me the cash.” House put on his ‘I’m the cutest darn puppy at the pound’ look. “I'll get you a muffin."

Wilson, obviously deciding it was easier to give in than argue, handed over ten dollars. "Blueberry. It's too early in the day for chocolate muffins."

House walked over to where Cameron was walking up and down. "You're driving me crazy with the pacing. Go find Chase. And that patient while you're at it." He nudged her leg with his cane to get her attention.

Before House could blink, his cane was in Cameron's hands, pressed against his windpipe. He felt the glass top of the conference table digging into the back of his thighs.

"Allison! Stop it!" House couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Wilson move so fast. He had one hand on the cane, and the other on House's chest.

Cameron backed off. "I'm sorry. I don't… I'm sorry." She gave up the cane to Wilson and ran out of the conference room.

House leaned on the table. Wilson ran an inquisitive but gentle hand over House’s throat. "Are you ok? What happened? I saw you walking towards her and the next thing I see, she’s choking you with your cane."

House shook off Wilson's hand. "I'm fine, but something's wrong with those two. We'd better find them."

"Do you think it's Ethan?" Wilson still sounded worried.

"Probably. I'll take the third floor, you take the second." House wasn't going to let any of Ethan's tricks get to him. He took his cane from Wilson's loose grasp. They walked together to the elevator.

* * * * * *

Wilson watched House head towards the staff locker room through the closing elevator doors. He wished that they had decided to stick together. He knew this wasn't a horror movie, or an episode of Scooby Doo, where splitting up the gang usually led to everyone running into the monster, but he was out of practice at this watcher business, and he felt there were some parallels. The monster wasn't going to turn out to be Old Caretaker Willy wait, is that the Simpsons? in a mask though. Ethan was real. Whatever he was up to, he wasn't doing it with lights and mirrors.

By the time the doors opened on the second floor, Wilson had started regretting the Scooby analogy. He'd assigned House the obvious role of Shaggy, Cameron was Daphne, Chase was most like Fred, and that left him playing Velma. He was glad to see Ellen -- the new nurse from the psychiatric department -- waiting for the elevator, so he didn't have to think further down that road.

"Doctor Wilson," Ellen grinned when she saw him, "I've been hoping to run into you again. I wanted to thank you for taking me to lunch the other day. I was so nervous, not knowing anyone and all."

"My pleasure. I hate to see anyone eating alone." Wilson held the elevator doors, ushering Ellen into the car and allowing their conversation to continue. "I don't suppose you saw a girl come through your department complaining of pain this morning?"

"We had a fifteen year old boy who tried to butcher a live pig in front of his biology class, but no girls. How old?"

"I'm not sure. She's a model. In her twenties I think."

"If you want a date, you could ask me. You don't need to pick up models on the psych ward."

Wilson stopped blocking the doors. House had already had words with him about flirting with nurses in the cafeteria. He didn’t need to complicate things further. "Thanks for your help, Ellen. I better keep looking for this girl." The doors slid shut, bearing Ellen back upstairs.

* * * * * *

House pushed open the door to the locker room and was hit by a wall of steam. It sounded like every shower was on full. House made his way carefully across the condensation-slick floor. All the shower stalls had their curtains open, water pounding onto nothing but tiles. Except the third one, where Chase stood, shampoo in his hair, face turned up to the spray. He'd taken off his lab coat, his shirt, and one shoe, but was otherwise dressed. House noticed an inflamed looking wound over Chase's right scapula.

"Chase?" House tried to modulate his voice so as to be heard over the shower noise, but not frighten the obviously deranged young man. "Are you ok?" Clearly he wasn’t, but it seemed the appropriate thing to say. When Chase didn't respond, House gave up on appropriate. "Chase, what the hell are you doing?"

Still, no response. House walked closer. His clothes were already wet enough from the steam that overspray wasn't going to make much difference. When he got near enough to touch Chase's arm, House paused at the sight of the wound. It was a design carved into the skin. It looked a couple of days old, scabbed over, but with most of the scabs washed away by the shower, he couldn't make out what the design was. Suddenly Chase whirled around, knocking into him. House grabbed Chase's arms to steady himself, and they both ended up on the floor. More by luck than any last minute effort to save himself, House landed on his good leg, and when Chase fell on top of him, it was onto his torso. What hurt the worst was Chase's shampoo, which ran into House's eyes.

"Fucking hell! What's in that shampoo? Lemon juice?" To House's surprise Chase actually answered.

"Keeps my hair blond."

House pushed Chase off, and turned his face to the shower. Cupping the water in his hands, he rinsed his eyes the best he could. When he could mostly see again he looked at Chase, who seemed to be trying to take off his shoe and angle his head under the water at the same time. House sat up to give him more room. The sooner that shampoo was all down the drain, the better.

* * * * * *

Cameron found herself in the parking lot. She wasn't sure how she got there or what she was looking for. There was a man half behind a shade-tree in the corner of the lot. His pink blazer caught her eye first. The sleeves were rolled up. He was wearing espadrilles. The guy had last checked in with the fashion police when Miami Vice was in its hey day. Uh oh.

Cameron searched her pockets for a stake. She found a pen, a stethoscope, a notepad and a cellophane wrapped butterscotch, but nothing made of wood. Her eyes scanned the parking lot for something she could use instead. She'd heard of Buffy staking vampires with a number 2 pencil, with chair legs, ornamental fencing… there had to be something around here.

Seeing nothing on the side of the lot, Cameron began to run from car to car, looking in the windows, trying to find anything that could be used to kill the vampire under the tree. The vampire who was lighting a cigarette and walking towards her. She saw a pencil on a folded up newspaper on the passenger seat of a Buick. She was about to put her fist through the window when she realized. Mr. Pink Jacket was walking towards her through the blazing morning sunshine. No smoke, other than that trailing from his cigarette; no screaming. Not a vampire then. Cameron wondered what she had been thinking.

* * * * * *

Chase stripped off the rest of his clothes while House held out a towel, a look of impatience on his face. Chase dried his hair first, sitting on the bench that edged the room. When he dropped the towel to his lap, House was still staring at him. He didn’t look happy.

"Chase, what's going on here? Why are you showering in half your clothes?"

"I was… sweaty."

Chase reached back to scratch his shoulder. The pain was sudden and sharp. He looked closely at his fingers, expecting to see that he had grown razor blades on their ends. They looked just the same as always. He tried his hardest to peer over his shoulder, but couldn't see any lower than the top curve of his trapezius. Gingerly, and with the pads of his fingers this time, he reached out to touch the spot that now felt like a brand on his shoulder blade. Even the gentle touch made him hiss. "House? Can you look here and tell me what -- Ow! Fuck! -- what this is? It feels like I've been stabbed or something."

House was idly undoing the buttons on his shirt. Chase forgot about his shoulder and concentrated on the long fingers his boss was so wantonly displaying. They were the hands of a… one of those doctors that cut people up. Cut. Something about a cut. His shoulder… Chase reached back and touched his shoulder. He immediately wished he hadn't.

"House, what's wrong with my shoulder blade?"

House finally looked up. "Someone's been carving on you. I was trying to see what it was in the shower, but you knocked me ass over tea kettle."

"Well, look now, will you? It bloody well hurts."

House peered over Chase's shoulder as Chase turned on the bench to give him a better view. "It looks… Wilson needs to see this. I could never keep all those ridiculous demonic symbols in my head." He started to turn away and then looked significantly at Chase's naked lap. "Gonna put some pants on there?"

Chase tugged the towel resting on his knees up to cover himself. House went to the shelf of scrubs and threw a top and some pants to Chase. Taking a towel and a pair for himself, House changed with his back to Chase's prying eyes. House was digging through the box of theatre clogs for a matching pair when Chase realized he couldn’t remember who they were taking for an operation and why.

* * * * * *

Cuddy sat in an exam room. There had been someone in there with her before, but the woman had forgotten what was wrong with her and wandered off. Cuddy held something that she definitely knew was called a stethoscope in her hand, but she wasn’t certain what she was supposed to be doing with it. There seemed to be a lot of noise outside the room. Stuffing the scopi-ope nope, that’s not quite right back in her pocket, Cuddy went to the door and opened it a crack. The waiting room was filled with people. Some were arguing, shouting, shoving; some were sitting quietly looking confused or as though they were trying to ignore what was going on. Cuddy didn’t like it. Not one little bit. She shut the door and went back to sitting on her stool. Today was giving her a headache.

* * * * * *

Wilson searched every bed on the second floor and didn’t find the missing patient. He debated going upstairs to find House, but decided to check in with the doctors in the clinic to see if any of them had seen her.

When the elevator doors opened, Wilson felt like he’d descended into another world. The clinic, not a place of calm at the best of times, was bedlam. There was no sign of Cuddy or any of the other doctors. Whatever was going on with Chase and Allison seemed to have made it downstairs.

Wilson knew he would have to solve this at the source. He backed into the elevator again, making his way up to the third floor to find House.

He nearly ran to the changing room where he’d last seen House, but no one was there. The room was moist with steam and the clothes that Chase had been wearing earlier were in a sodden heap on the floor. Then Wilson noticed that House’s clothes were discarded in the corner. He did his very best not to panic.

His feet were carrying him up the stairs and to Diagnostics before his brain could register that he’d even left the locker room.

* * * * * *

House sat at his desk, feet up, super-sized tennis ball in his hand. This felt familiar. It felt fine. He threw the ball and caught it. That too was familiar. But something was wrong. Something else was supposed to be happening. Something… thinkier. He threw the ball again. Maybe he needed music.

There was an iPod in a docking station next to his computer. House pressed some buttons. The Pogues started singing about Christmas. That was not right. House was pretty sure it was June. Or maybe July. One of those J months that wasn’t January. More button pressing got him The Kinks. Which was fine, except for the fact that he had to look at the little display thing to know it was The Kinks. That definitely was not familiar. It did not feel fine.

Chase was sitting at the table in the conference room. He had a pen in his mouth. House watched him through the window. He was wearing scrubs, and his lab coat seemed to be missing, but otherwise he just looked like Chase always looked. Bored, distracted, sucking on a pen. But there was… no newspaper. House threw his ball at the glass. The bang made Chase look up. His expression didn’t change, but the pen came out of his mouth. He started tapping it against his lips. House looked at the ball where it had rolled under the chair. He really couldn’t be bothered to go and pick it up. There was a yo-yo in one of these drawers. He was sure of it.

* * * * * *

Wilson was running flat out by the time he got to the corridor outside the Diagnostics department. When he saw House sitting at his desk, playing with his yo-yo as though nothing was wrong, he skidded to a halt. The Scooby Doo comparison flashed back for a moment before he was filled with relief. Relief shortly followed by anger. Why hadn’t House paged him if he’d found Chase and everything was ok?

He pushed open the office door. Joan Jett was wailing about loving rock and roll. House shot his yo-yo out towards him. Wilson stopped short of its range. He’d learned that lesson years ago. “House, what are you doing? Why didn’t you page me? How is Chase?”

“Hi. Did you – wow that tie is ugly.”

“House?“

“There’s something not right. I was throwing my ball, and it just wasn’t right.”

Wilson looked more closely at his friend. House was wearing scrubs, which was unusual but not completely unheard of. Music on too loud, check; feet on desk, check; toy, check. But once he looked at House’s eyes, Wilson realized that something was very wrong. Everything that made House, House was missing. Including, Wilson realized suddenly, his American accent.

“What happened when you found Chase? Tell me everything.”

“He was wet.”

“I know. I saw your clothes on the floor. What did you do when you found him?”

House didn’t say anything. He was peering around the desk at his ball. Wilson picked it up and held it out. House looked up and smiled. “Ta!”

Wilson put the ball down on the desk with a bang. “House, I need you to pay attention. You found Chase in the locker room. He was wet. What happened then?”

“He was in the shower. He wouldn’t answer me and so I went in. There’s something… Damn! I can’t remember. But there was something I wanted you to see. He fell on me and got shampoo in my eyes. That hurt, let me tell you. Did you know he has lemon juice in his shampoo?”

“No. Right. So he fell on you. Was he dressed then? Is that why his clothes were so wet? Was what you wanted me to see on his clothes?”

“He had his shirt. No. No shirt. A shoe though. He was wearing a shoe in the shower.” Wilson was half way out the door to the conference room by the time House finished his sentence.

* * * * * *

Cameron was outside. Things felt clearer out in the fresh air. She had no idea what was going on inside the hospital, but she felt strong and fast and prepared. For something. If she could only remember what.

She made another circuit of the hospital grounds. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she felt a need to patrol. People were starting to fill up the courtyard with lunch trays and gossip. Cameron scanned all the faces. Everyone looked normal. Possibly too normal. She couldn’t tell. Cameron made her way across the courtyard and back out the other side to continue her way around the building.

On her fourth pass of the main entrance, Cameron saw a man peering in through the window. He was not supposed to be there.

* * * * * *

Wilson knelt down in front of Chase. "Take off your top."

"Me?" Chase looked around as though hoping that Wilson were talking to someone else.

Wilson didn't want to wait any more. He stood, looking as threatening as a doe-eyed, nearly middle-aged, researcher/oncologist could look. "Take it off!" Chase scrabbled with the fabric, pulling it over his head. Bending down, Wilson began to examine Chase's chest, arms, stomach. There was nothing. He went around to examine his back. The carving stood out against his skin, angry and inflamed. Wilson leaned towards it. He recognized the symbol, but he couldn't place it. "Don't move."

Wilson hurried to his office. Pushing aside his globe, he pressed the button hidden behind its base. His credenza slid sideways, revealing a bookcase set back into the wall. He scanned the shelves, trying to find a text on demonic symbols. He was sure he knew the one he wanted. He didn’t see it. "Damn it! It's at home. No time. Giles." Now he was talking to himself. He had to calm down.

He had Giles on the phone by the time he got back to Chase. Fortunately the man was in his shop, books to hand. Words running over themselves, Wilson tried to explain to Giles that Chase seemed to have some sort of infection-causing symbol carved onto his shoulder.

* * * * * *

"Wilson, calm down. What does it look like?" Giles gestured to Anya to help him get books off the shelves. She was counting the money in the till again. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone he hissed at her, "You can do that later. I need some help here."

Giles heard a crash down the phone line. "House, just sit still." Wilson sounded muffled. "Sorry. House was trying to balance his cane on the whiteboard. I think it's an Aztec design. Or maybe South American? It's very hard to tell. Chase! Will you stop wriggling?"

"Don't touch him. You didn't touch him, did you?" Giles wished he was there. He felt impotent being so far away. Anya had finally wandered over. "Books on symbols, infectious curses, things like that. We need to figure out what that bloody Ethan Rayne did to the boy House has working for him."

"Who's that? Who are you talking to?" Wilson sounded frantic again.

"It's Anya. We own the shop together. Never mind. Tell me more about what's been happening. And describe that symbol to me."

"It's a face. I think the tongue is twisted, or -- Chase, if you move another muscle I will kill you -- maybe it's tied in a knot. There are Xs over the eyes. Above them I mean. Does that sound familiar? I feel like I've seen it before, but I can not think where."

The bell over the door rang, and Giles thought, 'Oh not now!' His relief when he saw it was Willow made him grin. "Wilson, hang on. We're working on it. Don't go anywhere." Giles put the phone down.

"Giles, have you seen Buffy? I was supposed to… What's wrong?" Willow eyed the books piled on the table suspiciously.

Giles was sketching an approximation of the symbol as Wilson had described it. "Willow, Anya, have either of you seen anything like this before?" Both girls looked at the drawing.

"Tribes in Central America, oooh seven hundred years or so ago now, used to paint it on the foreheads of the demented." Anya looked very pleased with herself.

"You can use symbols like that to cast spells. Marks of the afflicted to make the afflicted. It's complicated magic though. Very difficult." Willow was looking through the books on the table, trying to find a specific one.

Giles picked up the phone again. "Wilson? Are you still there?"

"They know? What do I need to do? Ask them what I need to do."

"Willow, how does he break the spell?" Willow seemed to have found the book she wanted and was leafing through it.

"Is it one person affected, or several? How was the spell cast?"

"It's some sort of infection, it seems to have originated with the symbol carved onto a young man's shoulder. He's passing on the confusion to people he touches." Giles paused. "Wilson, are you sure it's passed by touch?"

"I saw Cameron take his pulse in the hallway, and she's definitely infected. She tried to kill House. Then Chase fell on House in the shower, and he's not himself at all. I don't know how it got to the clinic, but Cameron and Chase were both out and about in the hospital for most of the morning… I haven't touched anyone. I'm sure it's touch."

Giles said to Willow, "He's sure. The infection seems to have originated with this Chase fellow."

"He needs to obliterate the marking somehow. Cut it out, burn it off, acid, something like that." Willow looked concerned. "They're in a hospital? It's going to be painful. The man's pain sensors won't be affected by the spell."

"That's all? Just obliterate the symbol?"

"No, he has to recite a counter-spell as well to reverse the magic already done. Destroying the symbol will only stop it from spreading. I have the spell here." Willow looked at it again. "It's in Latin, so he shouldn't have much trouble. All you watchers speak Latin, right?"

Giles took the book. Willow pointed at the relevant passage. "Wilson, get a pen and some paper. There's a spell you need to read. And you need to burn that symbol off the boy's back."

Giles read the spell slowly, going back to make sure Wilson got every word. When Wilson read it back word perfect, Giles let him go. "Ring me if you need anything else. We'll be here. And, Wilson? Good luck."

* * * * * *

Chase couldn’t figure out what Wilson was getting himself in such a state over. Shouting at Chase, shouting at House, shouting into his phone; it seemed such a waste of energy. The air conditioning was on and making him cold. He wanted to put his shirt back on, but Wilson was kind of scary. Now he was muttering in some not-English language.

"Wilson? Can I put my shirt back on? I'm cold." Chase started to lift the top from the table.

"Fine, put it on, but don’t leave. I'll be right back." Wilson glared at Chase, turned his glare on House, and ran out of the room.

House was twirling his cane around and around his fingers. Chase could not take his eyes off them. The flashing wood in House's hands was hypnotic.

It seemed only moments after he left that Wilson came back, pockets bulging. At the other end of the table he started setting things out on the glass. A bottle of pale yellow liquid, some condiment packets from the cafeteria, a handful of swabs and a tube of something.

House looked interested. "What are you going to do with all that, Jimmy?"

"I'm going to sort out the mess that Ethan's made."

Chase tried to think why that name was familiar. He couldn't. Something about an umbrella drink… Wilson's voice broke him out of his reverie.

"I need you to take off your shirt again, Chase. I'm sorry."

Chase complied without argument. It wasn't until Wilson told him to place his head and arms on the table and not move that he started to get a bit worried. He eyed the supplies. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Don't worry. It will be over with as quickly as I can make it. I don't know how novocaine would interact with the sodium hydroxide, so it's going to hurt."

House peered more closely at the clutter Wilson had emptied out of his pockets. "You're going all Fight Club on him?" House looked disturbingly pleased. Chase wasn't sure what he meant, but it didn't sound good.

"Just lie still. Please." Wilson picked up the tube and one of the swabs. "This is just Vaseline, it's not gonna hurt." Chase felt the smear of cold jelly around the edges of his shoulder blade.

Wilson picked up the piece of paper he'd written on when he was on the phone earlier. With the other hand he dipped a swab into the yellow liquid. As he started to read, he lowered the swab to Chase's back.

The pain was blinding. Chase felt like he was thrown out of his body with it, and when he came crashing back down, every nerve ending was under that swab. It was burning -- searing -- operatic in its intensity. He couldn't hear Wilson's words over the screaming of his pain center. Everything that had been fuzzy became clear; focused on the laser of pain.

And then it was gone. Chase felt water trickling over his back, and the sharp smell of lemons assaulted his senses. Chase saw Wilson tearing open another packet through tear-blurred eyes. More liquid it must be lemon juice dribbled onto his back. Pain returned, a dull throbbing sensation, that hardly seemed related to the agony of a few moments ago.

House stared at them both. "Bloody hell. I am Jack's blistered and scarred shoulder. And here I thought you were purely research. I didn't know you had it in you, Wilson. Well done."

Chase started to feel confused again. He was sure that House had just spoken in an English accent.

* * * * * *

Cameron was trying to get a better look at the guy peering through the window into the clinic lobby when the fog that had been clouding her brain lifted. Giles had shown her pictures of Ethan Rayne, circulated by the Initiative when Rayne escaped their custody. They had been grainy, and the man in them didn't look as well fed as the man in front of her, but there was no mistaking the angle of his features.

Cameron snuck closer. When she was in range, she let fly a kick at the back of Ethan's knee. He turned just in time, and the kick landed on his thigh. "Ow! Who..?" He rubbed his thigh and she took the opportunity to kick his shoulder.

"Ethan Rayne, whatever you did, you are not going to get away with it."

Ethan's eyes grew wide. "Oh, shit. Not another bloody slayer. Whatever happened to 'Into every generation a slayer is born'? There seems to be an epidemic of you people." Ethan turned and ran.

Cameron caught up with him as he reached the patio filled with people eating their lunches. He stopped running and put his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly whistling a tune. The man was ridiculous. Cameron wasn't going to let a crowd stop her. She wasn't a slayer trying to keep her identity a secret. She was a doctor with nothing to hide. "Stop him! He stole my wallet!" Cameron launched herself at Ethan, tackling him onto a table filled with lunch trays. The people who had been trying to eat their sandwiches and salads scattered, shouting their surprise as Ethan and Cameron skidded across the table and onto the ground.

Ethan landed with his face in a plate of chicken salad, a smear of ketchup running from his shoulder to the French fry stuck in his hair. Cameron landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of both of them. While she was catching her breath, she dug her elbow into the back of Ethan's neck. It was supremely satisfying.

"Someone call security." It was one of the men whose lunch had been interrupted.

Cameron pushed herself up with a hand on the back of Ethan's head, grinding his face further into the mayonnaise and bits of chicken. He was spluttering and squirming, but she had a knee in the small of his back and another on the back of one of his legs. She was pinning his head and his shoulder with her hands. He was big, but she was stronger. There was no way he was going anywhere until security arrived.

* * * * * *

Wilson and House sent Chase down to the emergency room to have his shoulder seen. House rang Giles and assured him that everything was ok. They went out to the balcony and watched the security guards hand Ethan over to the police. House felt detached from the whole kerfuffle.

There was a rap on the open balcony door. Cuddy stood on the threshold, running her fingers through her hair. She looked more exhausted than the men had ever seen her. "I don’t suppose you guys have any idea what's been going on around here today?"

"I noticed clinic seemed busier than usual." Wilson tried to sound casual.

"I think there must have been something in the water. I found Chase showering in his clothes, Cameron tried to kill me with my own cane, and I'm missing my patient. No one can seem to find her." House jerked his head in a 'step closer little lady' fashion. "The police seem to be arresting some man. Maybe he had something to do with it?" House pointed over the balcony to the parking lot below where Ethan was being manhandled into a cruiser.

Wilson put a hand on Cuddy's back and she stepped between the men and leaned over the balcony. The watchers looked at each other over her bent head.

"Do you think he released some sort of gas into the air conditioning?" Cuddy sounded worried.

"Whatever he did, I'm sure the police will get to the bottom of it." Wilson looked Cuddy in the face. "Are you ok? You look a little pale. Maybe you should go home and get some rest."

"I can't leave the hospital in this state. I'll be fine. I'm sure." Cuddy started to walk back inside. The men followed her.

"Well, if you need anything, just ask," Wilson offered graciously.

"Ask Wilson. I'll be busy." House pulled his gameboy out of a drawer and sat down at his desk.

"God forbid, House, that the day ever comes when I need to ask you a favor." Cuddy sounded much more like her usual self.

"Wilson knows all about the favors you ask me for. There's no need to try to hide your lust for me from him."

Wilson ushered Cuddy out the door. "Honestly. If you need anything ask. I'll keep Dr. Love out of your hair." He shut the door behind her and turned back to House.

"How come she never gets suspicious?" House had wondered this before.

"Life with you is strange enough that even demonic spells, chaos and mass confusion don't seem all that out of the ordinary."

"I still can't believe you did the Tyler Durden thing. I guess all those biopsies and the chemo and radiation and stuff have hardened you up. Back in the day, you wouldn't have been able to do anything to harm a flea."

"He tackled you in the shower. He infected you. He made Cameron try to kill you."

"So you scarred the boy for life for me?" House looked surprised.

"I didn't say that. It was the only way to stop Ethan. I'm sorry it wasn’t him that needed the lye treatment. But someone had to do it. You were in no state."

For once, House left the subject alone. "Whatever the reason, thank you."

Wilson looked at House carefully. "Are you sure there are no lasting effects from that spell?"

Cameron burst through the office door, nearly buzzing with excitement. "Did you see? I got him! I got Ethan Rayne!"

House smiled at her indulgently. "That's wonderful. You must feel very proud to have tackled a fifty-eight year old man into a pile of…" House sniffed in the general direction of her soiled hair. "Is that chicken salad?"

"Well, what did you do about him?" Cameron was sulking.

"I had to watch Wilson torture Chase. It was awful!" House nodded solemnly to add veracity to his claim. If Wilson's eyebrows were any indication, his solemn nodding needed some work.

"I wasn't torturing him. I was trying to snap all of you out of your brainlessness."

"Looked like torture to me. All I got to do was land under him in the shower. Some people have all the fun."

With a final glare at House, Cameron turned to Wilson. "What happened anyway? Ethan was muttering about making House lose his mind once and for all. I certainly felt confused there for a while."

"He somehow got to Chase. Used magic and a scalpel to infect him with a dementia curse. It was passed on by touch. When you took his pulse, you were infected. Did you touch anyone down in clinic?"

"Cuddy touched my face I think. And a rude doctor grabbed my arm in front of the appointment desk. I may have slapped him." Cameron had the grace to look ashamed.

"God knows how many people Chase molested before trying to seduce me in the shower," House chimed in.

"So Ethan cut some sort of infectious mark onto Chase? How did you cure us?"

"I had to burn the mark off with lye."

"My hero." House took Wilson's hand. "This very hand. Not just for healing, you know."

Wilson tried to pull his hand back, but House held fast. Cameron stared at the two of them.

"Right. Well. I think I'm going to go wash this chicken salad out of my hair."

"Go check on Chase down in the ER when you're done, will you? I'd do it myself, but Wilson needs to show me something in his office."


end