izzyalienqueen | The Halliwell Manor, Saturday morning

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The Halliwell Manor, Saturday morning

After spending the week worrying about Savannah and trying to get a particularly annoying paper done, Isabel was thrilled when Wyatt invited her to spend the weekend in San Francisco.

Taking advantage of his grandfather being out of town to have a few days to themselves? Never...

After a late night, Isabel was still half asleep when she climbed out of bed, pulled on one of Wyatt's t-shirts, and quietly went in search of the coffee maker, wondering if Wyatt would enjoy breakfast in bed.

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Unfortunately, it wasn't Wyatt who woke up shortly after she got up. It looked like Wyatt, only with jet black hair. And eyeliner. And, oh, fangs.

He stood up and looked around in confusion, wondering where he was and how he had gotten there. Fortunately, the curtains on the window were thick enough to keep the sunlight from harming him.

Isabel had managed to put together a gourmet breakfast in the short time she was gone.

Okay, it was coffee and frozen bagels. But it was the thought that counted.

"Wake up sleepyhead!" she called as she entered the room.

Fork -- for that was his name now, don't ask -- stared at the woman. "Carrie?" he said. No, it wasn't her, but they had the same blonde hair.

She'd made the coffee. But she hadn't had any yet.

That was her story and Isabel was going to stick to it.

"Carrie? Should I be jealous?"

"Who are you? What is this place?" Fork demanded, moving closer to Isabel. He had an accent now, similar to the pretentious one Wyatt's future alter-ego used, but not quite.

For the first time Isabel really looked at Wyatt.

Who obviously wasn't Wyatt any longer.

"Oh for god's sake..."

Well, at least she wasn't pregnant this time around.

"God's not here to save you," Fork hissed. Whoever she was, this girl was just his type. Blonde and full of hot, delicious blood.

"From cranky not morning people? No, apparently not. Here," she offered. "Have some coffee."

Isabel couldn't help wondering if there was a way she could swap cranky guy for the gay party boy Wyatt had been the last time this had happened. He'd probably be more fun to hang out with.

"I don't want coffee," Fork snapped. "Don't you realize what I am, girl?"

"A pretentious twit with a bad dye job?" Isabel drawled, setting the tray down on the desk and reaching for her coffee

It was going to be a LONG weekend.

"I'm a vampire!" Fork snarled. "And you are about to become my next meal."

"You're kidding me?" she facepalmed. Wasn't this just perfect?

But Isabel still had enough self preservation to start edging towards the door of the room.

"You really, really, really don't want to try and do that."

"Why not?" Fork smirked. "I have a taste for blondes. And you look delicious. Play nice and you might even enjoy it."

"Thanks but no," Isabel replied, still edging towards the door. "I've got other plans for the day."

Staying alive for one. And when she got a minute where she wouldn't have to worry about being a vampire's breakfast? There was definitely going to be snickering over the ridiculous accent.

"You act like you have a choice," Fork said, baring his fangs.

It wasn't an accent. It was a speech impediment caused by ridiculously huge vampire fangs.

"Something like that."

A distraction was needed. A quick wave of her hand sent the desk chair flying towards Fork as Isabel bolted towards the door.

Hey, he was proud of his large fangs. Because you know what they say about big fangs....

Fork totally wasn't expecting the chair to come at him like that. He ducked and flung up his arms to protect his head, then dove as Isabel, trying to tackle her to the floor.

There was a small detached part of Isabel's brain that was munching popcorn and pointing out how the whole situation was similar to a really bad horror flick. Right down to the scantily dressed blonde.

Except Isabel had no intention of being a simpering victim.

She fell forward as she was tackled and immediately sent an elbow back, hoping to connect with something painful.

Fork grunted as her elbow connected with his jaw, but didn't loosen his hold on Isabel. "You're feisty," he grinned, flipping her over on to her back. "I like it." He overdramatically bared his fangs again and went for Isabel's neck.

Isabel didn't.

Fortunately she managed to pull one hand free. "Sorry," she muttered concentrating on giving Fork an adrenaline powered TK shove.

Who knew vampires could fly? Fork certainly didn't, but he found himself sailing across the room and crashing hard into a wall. He got tangled in the curtain and he slid down the wall, letting a beam of sunlight into the room. He scrambled away from it in a panic, glaring at Isabel. "How the hell did you do that?" he demanded.

Keeping a watchful eye on him, Isabel got to her feet, her hand still outstretched in case he needed to be tossed around again.

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm an alien?"

"Right," Fork said, still sitting on the floor and leaning back against the wall because ouch. "There's no such thing."

"Funny. I know some people that would say the same thing about vampires."

Since Fork seemed willing to sit quietly for the moment, Isabel grabbed for her bag. She desperately wanted some real clothes on. "But consider this. You're obviously not where you expected to be. So something strange is going on."

"Don't get dressed on my account," Fork leered. "But you're right. This isn't where I'm supposed to be."

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