(or, A Pair of Jills appreciate certain aspects of Uncle's - um, personality)

by Jillby, Jill, Sheryl and Leslie

>>>Thursday, November 2, very late in the afternoon.

Leslie and Jill were getting really, really tired. After all, one could only listen to Uncle blustering on about how all-freaking-powerful he was, and how he'd make them admit they had trashed the Raven, for so long before one got mighty tired of it. They'd had a tiring couple of days. Of course they were terrified - as Natpackers, they had healthy (though not often used) self-preservation instincts. However, exhaustion was taking first place right now.

Leslie suppressed a yawn, which LaCroix saw. His eyes glowed gold. "You are yawning?"

"Well, I'm tired. Can you get to the point?" Leslie was past caring. Whatever he was going to do, he should just go ahead and do it before she got old and grey.

Jill started to giggle. LaCroix turned to her, angry - and mystified. Puny mortals - Natpackers yet - did not giggle at him. Why, his own faction was often afraid to even look him in the eyes. The Cousins understood their place. He was about to deliver one of his brutal, cutting oratories when Jill cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Oh, stop," she said, managing to control her giggles. However tired you were, it still wasn't a good idea to laugh at an angry, ancient vampire. "If you're going to kill us, or try to mesmerize us, just go right ahead. We're not going to tell you a bloody thing - you should excuse the expression. We're tired and just want to get some sleep. So do your whammys and we'll take it from there."

LaCroix looked at Jill and Leslie, mouth agape. These were women who should be cowering at his feet. Instead, one was yawning hugely and the other one was definitely suppressing laughter.

This was not what he had expected. He turned away from them, running one hand over his head - and heard Leslie gasp. "Jill!"

LaCroix whipped back around to find Jill staring in his direction, a glassy look on her face. She shook her head groggily, seeming to come out of a trance. LaCroix's eyes narrowed.

Suddenly, the front door flew open, and in stalked two women. One was a willowy strawberry blonde; the other a pale brunette with a really cute haircut. The brunette pointed at LaCroix imperiously.

"Let them go, LaCroix," she said, in a tone of voice that could only have come from a mother.

Since it had been a few thousand years since LaCroix had seen his mother, he just sneered. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" He looked at their chic, though impractical, outfits. "Apparently, you're Ravenettes."

"Got that right," the blonde said. "I'm Sheryl, and this is Jillby. We're friends of these poor, deluded Natpackers, and have come to take them home."

"How did you know they were here?" LaCroix asked silkily, the menace in his voice chilling the air.

"We have our sources," Sheryl sneered in return. She tended to ignore menace, and it was really none of his business. Walking over to a bar set up on one side of the room, she gestured at the decanters. "I need a drink. Do you have any gin?" She held up one bottle. "This stuff is crap! Where's the Bombay Sapphire? Janette had far better taste in liquor."

LaCroix turned, ready to tell this Sheryl person that - Ravenette or no - he was going to have to kill her for her impudence, when he heard Leslie gasp again, and start to laugh. Spinning around, he saw both Jills staring at him glassily.

"Oh, God," said Sheryl, exasperated. "Not again." She snapped her fingers. "Snap out of it, chickies."

"Snap out of what?" Used to being the master of every situation, LaCroix realized he had no idea what was going on here. And he didn't like it.

Sheryl snickered. "Pardon the indelicacy, but... It's your butt."

"My what?"

"Your tush, your bum, your rear end, Lucien. When these two see your posterior, it's like they're looking at some venerated object. They become completely unable to take their eyes off of it." Sheryl shook her head. "I mean, it's
a good tush - but not that good."

Not since the clamshell scene in War Four's faux episode had LaCroix felt so completely at a loss for words. Unable to resist, he turned his back towards the Jills, watching them over his shoulder. He watched as the Jills turned into staring zombies with bemused grins on their faces. One of Jillby's hands drifted up involuntarily; it almost looked like she was holding an invisible gin and tonic.

"Transfixed. Immobile." Leslie rolled her eyes.

"Like deer in headlights," added Sheryl. "It's really very sad. Ravenettes are usually so much more... independent."

"And Natpackers usually have better taste," Leslie mumbled. Her hand flew to her mouth as LaCroix turned his head and glared at her. "Whoops - sorry..."

Sheryl walked over to Leslie, and they regarded the riveted ones sadly. Sheryl took a sip of the drink she'd poured herself. "Apparently, the same thing happens when they catch sight of Duncan MacLeod's tukus," she confided to Leslie. "It's a good thing he isn't in this War, too, or we'd never get them to move."

As horrified and disgusted as he was, LaCroix was beginning to see the potential in this situation. Yes, there were two mortal women gaping at his backside. It made him feel so cheap. So violated. So used. He was more than just a sexual object, after all. However, they also represented two of the factions that might be responsible for the torment that had been visited upon him.

Granted, his range of motion would be somewhat limited, but he could essentially keep these two in thrall for whatever amount of time was necessary - as long as he kept his back turned.

He smiled.

They were drawn by the power of his butt. This was a power he had never considered.

Leslie was watching LaCroix's face. As his eyes began to gleam a horrified feeling swept over her. "Sheryl!" she whispered, then realized that LaCroix could hear her anyway. She raised her voice. "Sheryl, he's going to keep
them this way! Frozen!"

"Oh, f**k, oh dear," Sheryl said, growing even more pale than usual. "We have to do something!"

"What can we do?" Leslie stood, biting her lip, thinking. She grinned. "Got it!" She ran over to Jill, who was still staring vacantly at you-know-what, and began to sing into her ear.

"High on a hill stood a lonely goatherd, Lei-hode-lei-hode-lei-hee-hoo..."

Sheryl understood immediately the drastic measures that had to be taken, and leaned close to Jillby's ear.

"Oh Mandy, will you kiss me and stop me from shaking,
Cause I need you today, oh Mandy..."

LaCroix slapped his hands over his ears. It was a toss-up which was worse - the dreadful music that was being rendered, or the dreadful rendering itself. "Stop this!" he roared.

Jill immediately snapped out of her trance, and looked at Leslie in disgust. "Leslie, you're off key!"

Jillby shook her head. "Shut up, Sherrreeee," she growled, "and give me a ciggy-butt."

The Jills looked at one another. "Oh God, we were doing it again, weren't we?" said Jill pathetically. "They're going to kick me out of the Natpack for this."

"Please," said Jillby. "At least there's some precedent for your mesmerization. Ravenettes are supposed to know better."

"Natalie wasn't..." started Jill, then thought better of the statement and clamped her mouth shut.

"I think we should get out of here," said Sheryl, tucking the bottle of gin under her arm. It was crappy gin, but it was free. "There's a War going on, and I'm sure we all have things to do."

Cautiously, LaCroix took his hands off his ears. "I don't think you're going anywhere," he said, beginning to regain his equilibrium.

"Yes, we are," said Leslie defiantly. "You can't prove we did anything. We're getting out of here."

"You want them to sing again?" asked Jill with a wicked gleam in her eye. "I hear they do a mean rendition of 'Achy Breaky Heart.' "

"No!" LaCroix tried to hide his distaste at the thought. "Ladies, look at me." He casually turned his back on the Jills. As one, Leslie and Sheryl each grabbed a Jill and covered her eyes. They backed toward the door, singing at the top of their lungs. The Jills struggled weakly, but in moments they were pulled out the door.

The astonished cousins looked at their leader expectantly. He snarled. "Later."

*************

"It's just beautiful when the different factions work together, isn't it?" Sheryl asked as they left. "Let's find the two of you some decent clothes, by the way. You look far too sensible. You should be showing some skin."

"Just promise that neither of you will sing again unless you absolutely have to," grumbled Jill.

"It was a magnificent butt," Jillby said mournfully.

End

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