Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show, alas! If I did I'd probably keep all the characters for myself and invite them to dinner parties (hehehee...)

A/N: Recently, I was going through old(ish) documents and found this. Ages ago I posted it then deleted it. Looking at it now it's not actually that bad. So I'm re-posting it and planning to finish it. There'll also be edits here and there. Probably...


It all began the day Dorian got that odd letter…

Dear Dorian Grauschimmel,

16 years ago, my sister and I gave you up for adoption. We knew it wouldn't be a good idea to raise you. People would be suspicious of a defect- free incestuous offspring. Yes, your parents are sibling. Luckily I'm a researcher in genetics related sciences, so I managed to find ways to keep you from having any issues.

Yet that is beside the point.

If you receive this letter, I have been murdered by my paranoid employer. As I write this I know he's planning something.

Just outside the town of Denton, Ohio is a castle. It looks like something out of Eastern Europe. Go to that castle and find your mother. If she too is dead… kill the owner of the castle. He is easy to recognize, since he always wears lots of makeup and glittery women's clothing.

Your father,

Riffraff

Stapled to that letter was another letter.

Dear Dorian,

Please come to the castle. Though I haven't been killed, I've been forced to marry my employer! Though some sort of rescue mission isn't required, I still wish to see you. My son, I wonder if you look like your father. Please, visit! Cheer up your grieving mother with the sight of a familiar face! And, as your father wished, kill our terrible master so we may be freed!

Your loving mother,

Magenta

Later that day, Dorian showed his friend Eddie the letters. They'd planned to meet that afternoon, anyway. Yesterday their band (aka the two of them taking turns failing to a variety of musical instruments) had been turned down by another record company and needed to think of a new plan.

"It's a joke. Sorry, man," Eddie said, once he'd read through it all.

"I believe it!" protested Eddie's girl, Columbia.

"You believe everything," Eddie replied sullenly.

"What else should we do this summer?" Dorian asked.

"The band-"

"Doesn't exist. Two guys isn't a band."

"Hey! Two guys and a groupie!" Columbia

Dorian sighed dramatically. "Two guys and a groupie isn't a band either. Anyway, you're Eddie's girlfriend, not a groupie."

The three of them sat there in unhappy silence for a moment.

"So... you want to go on a road trip to Ohio?" Eddie asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. We don't want to waste the money we used to buy that so-called tour van and lots of paint for it, do we?"

"Well, no…."

"My Uncle Will and is son Larry live in Ohio," Columbia muttered thoughtfully. Everyone else ignore her, as was their habit.

Soon enough it was decided.

They'd go to Ohio. The so-called band had never been a good idea in the first place. It was just an excuse for sex and drugs (because the rock n' roll is optional according to some people).

Eddie had an uncle who lived in a town near there. They decided that they could go there in case the castle turned out to not exist. By dinnertime all was decided.

They ate pizza together that evening. It was a Friday. It was a Friday… and their last evening in town.


Riffraff, 'faithful' handyman to a wealthy idiot named, knew he was in trouble. That dreadful employer of his must've caught on to something. Indeed, Riff had been planning to kill that monster… but at least there was a reason.

Having all the credit for major scientific breakthroughs stolen isn't right.

To Riff's annoyance, even justifiable murder is illegal. So he waited for many years, until they went back to visit that isolated planet called Earth. Years ago he and his beloved sister Magenta had a son there. They'd left the child behind for his own good, of course.

And, now that they were returning, Riff had an interesting plot. Since his horrible employer would probably use their new separation from civilized (in this case meaning those with warp-travel technology) people to murder Riff. This son could be a perfect weapon. Even a planet as primitive as Earth would surely see avenging one's slain father as good etiquette.

So he wrote a letter and explained to his sister that it must be sent if he ever did get murdered.

One day, hardly an hour after lunch, Magenta and her brother were standing in the conservatory chatting quite cheerfully when his arm began to move strangely.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Before he could answer, he began having violent muscle spasms in his arms and legs. Magenta wasn't sure what to do. Seeing your beloved brother die of exhaustion induced by seizure like convulsions is terrible indeed. And he was clearly conscious throughout it. After a while he froze, clearly dead.

Crying, she kneeled beside the corpse. Rigor mortis had set in already. His eyes were frozen, staring. Shaking slightly, she closed the eyelids with her hands.

… and then she heard a certain heartless bastard chuckling nonchalantly.

She looked up to see her evil employer standing by the door.

"What did you do to him?" Magenta shrieked.

"It's this lovely thing called strychnine. In case you're wondering, I put a few drops in his food."

Hours later, that fiend returned to the room to find Magenta still weeping over her dead brother.

"Come along, now. No more of this nonsense," her cruel employer said, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

She refused to move from her late brother's side for the rest of that day.

Only a few days later she was forced to marry the monster that murdered her beloved. That made no real difference, however. It just gave him more legal power and made keeping her trapped a bit easier. A marriage in name alone.


Miss Janet Weiss and her boyfriend Mr. Brad Majors were leaving the house of their dear friend Miss Betty Munroe.

They'd eaten a perfectly marvelous dinner with her, though now it was time to leave.

As they began walking toward their car, they thought they saw a person in the shadows. Janet thought she heard a voice whisper, too. That was merely the wind through the trees.

"Who's there?" Janet squeaked.

"Nobody, I'm sure. If someone were there-"

Suddenly, Betty opened her "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing. Janet just thought she saw a person. It was just the dark playing tricks on her eyes. Everything is fine."

"Oh."

"We'll be leaving now!" Janet said, smiling sweetly.

Without further ado, Brad and Janet walked to where they'd parked their car. It was only across the street… but everything seems more frightening at 10PM.

As they got in the car Janet was startled. Again.

This time, however, by something more tangible. A van driven by a slightly tipsy 19-year-old suddenly stopped right in front of a nearby house. The house next door to the one where they happened to have just left.

"My, my. I didn't know Betty had such wild neighbors!" Janet muttered.

Brad, wondering whom these people were, got out of the car. Then, he walked over to them. Arms crossed and lips pursed, he waited for them to get out.

Only one person did: a young man with dark hair, fair a complexion, and a slightly childish look to his face.

"Who are you?" Brad asked.

"A friend to the people who live here. The owner of the house is the uncle of the girl asleep in the back of the car," the boy replied.

"Hmm."

Though neither of them had noticed, Janet had gotten out of the car and walked over to them. Now she stood next to her boyfriend.

"Can we go, please?" she whispered.

"In a minute," he whispered. Then, he smiled brightly and turned back to face the boy. "This is my girlfriend, Janet Weiss."

"Hello, Miss," the boy replied.

"Who are you?" Janet asked.

"I'm Eddie Redner. My girlfriend's Uncle lives in this house, and we plan to visit for a couple o' weeks."

Janet smiled politely. "That's nice!"

Suddenly, a noise like the wind whistling through trees was heard by all three of them. This time it wasn't what it sounded like. A shiver went down their spines.

"You know… Betty mentioned a ghost," Janet muttered.

As if trying to keep her from being grabbed by the unseen specter, Brad wrapped his arm around her. "How excitable you are. There's no such thing as that. In fact, you're perfectly safe."

Eddie nodded. "That's right. Nothin' like that will appear here. Hey, that rhymed!"

"Oh… but it might! Let me just say what Betty said to me!" Janet said softly, her blue eyes widened in fear.

Brad sighed. "Fine."

And so, the three of them sat down upon the very clean sidewalk and Janet began to explain…

"Last night- well, I think she said last night- a glowing, slightly see-though, silvery-white person shaped-"

A being just as she described suddenly appeared out of the darkness. Janet let out a little shriek and fainted.

"Uh… you seem the poetic sort… you can talk to it!" Brad exclaimed.

"Hey… he looks like Dorian, don't he?" Eddie whispered to himself.

Brad furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Nothin'."

"Do you think that you- I mean we- should talk to him?" Brad muttered.

And Eddie did. "Whatcha doing here, dude? Its midnight! Who's gonna see you? Ya look like you're all dressed up, too!"

Indeed, the ghostly figure wore an ill-fitting suit akin to formal wear. Or some sort of British butler (according to Eddie, at least).

"He's stalking away…" whispered Janet.

Neither of the men had noticed her return to consciousness. Ah, quite typical to their gender!

"I think you offended him, using the word 'dude'," Brad whispered.

Eddie chuckled… then swore under his breath. The ghost was disappearing!

"Stay here! We wanna know whatcha wanted!" Eddie shouted.

"Shh! You'll wake up the neighbors," Janet hissed.

"Aaand he's gone," muttered Brad.

Ignoring the fact that her boyfriend had stupidly stated the obvious, Janet gave Eddie a rather motherly look of concern. "Eddie, dear. You look a bit ill. Are you feeling alright?"

"He looks like my buddy Dorian did when he got really stoned one time. An' Dorian's dad just died. That's why were in town, 'cause his dad died!" Eddie said wildly.

Neither Brad nor his girlfriend spoke for quite a while. Eddie didn't, either. And then…

"Hey! He's back!" Eddie cried.

Indeed, the specter again stood right in front of them.

"Du- um, Mr. Ghost! Please don't go away! Please, er, state your purpose!" Eddie said, trying to sound smart. Not that it really worked.

Suddenly, the phrase 'I must speak to my dear son Dorian' echoed in Eddie's mind. Once, twice, thrice…

"It's okay, Janet. I won't let him hurt you," Brad muttered.

Then the ghost faded away. Again.

"Huh. What an odd guy! He's suddenly here…" Eddie began.

"And he's just gone," finished Janet.

"He woulda spoken to us if ya hadn't said anything," Eddie muttered under his breath, glaring daggers at Brad.

Brad cleared his throat. "Well! That was really, er, interesting. But it's quite late at night and pretty cold outside. I think Janet and I should head home."

Before Janet could even try to protest (not that she had the energy to), he marched her back to the car. Humming cheerfully he drove her home.

Eddie, on the other hand, still sat there on the sidewalk. What would he tell his friend? Nothing, of course… at least for now.

It was time to wake Dorian and Columbia up so that they could go inside. They'd sent a letter to 'Uncle' William Burghley telling him when they'd show up. All they needed to do before tomorrow was go to their rooms, unpack the basics, and sleep for a few hours.

So they did exactly that.


That fiendish man known as Prince Frank upon the throne in his ballroom.

Smiling a smile reminiscent of the Cheshire cat's, he watched a group of his subjects mill aimlessly around the room. Ruling over all Transylvanians living on the pathetic planet Earth (by virtue of his royal blood) had its perks. He could invite them to parties to which attendance was mandatory, for one thing.

Currently, every Transylvanian living in this country that he currently resided in was there in the castle.

After quite a while, he decided to make a speech.

"My dearest, most unconventional conventionalists!" he shouted, standing up.

A fearful silence fell upon the room. His so-called-wife shuddered at the unpleasantness of it all.

Soon enough he continued his speech. "I have called for this celebration in honor of my wedding to this attractive young woman. She has proved most enjoyable for a lowly servant. A sister-peasant to many of you, her new status as princess shall bring together the social classes ever so slightly."

Though a liar, he was an expert speaker. People believed him for reasons other than his status as future ruler. His voice sounded familiar- sometimes literally- and kind to many.

"Though not everything here is going well. This person- an earthling currently known as 'Dr. Scott'- knows something of our presence. I call upon you, my friends, to keep him from finding out any more. Volt! Cornelia!"

Two Transylvanians, a man and a woman, walked toward where he stood.

The prince grinned. "Would you be so kind to watch Dr. Scott? My dear wife will give you some of the notes you'll need. Notes, his schedules… the basics."

Shuddering in disgust, Magenta handed them a folder.

"We shall obey, sir," Cornelia muttered, bowing.

"Yes, we shall," Volt said, also with a bow.

"Good."

He stood there smirking for a moment, before calling upon another guest.

"Young Burghley!"

Out of the crowd stepped an earthling. His name happened to be Larry Burghley. Both he and his father worked for Prince Frank. Every good tyrant knows that an ally among the enemy's people is a good idea. Especially an ally that blends in. The Burghley family had become that.

"You've asked me for some sort of permission, yes?" Prince Frank asked.

"Yes. My father and I plan to play host to my cousin and her friends. We ask your humble permission to let me stop coming here for a few weeks in the least. I don't want them getting suspicious."

"Fine! You may forsake my company… temporarily."

"Thank you, sir."

Larry began to walk away. Before he could get far, however, the fiendish prince stopped him. "Does your father approve? Does he agree?"

Mr. Burghley cleared his throat. "Yes. I, um, believe a break isn't too unreasonable a request."

"Jolly good!" shouted the prince.

Music started up and the guests began to do the time warp (national dance of their planet's glorious empire).

"My darling, Magenta," Prince Frank whispered, putting his arm around her waist.

Though it repulsed her, law forbade her to move away. Anyone of royal blood couldn't be refused anything.

"Still upset about your idiot of a brother dying, eh?" he whispered in her ear.

"Please don't remind me! Your cheerful conversations and partying insults his memory," she replied.

Though such a response could result in her untimely death, she hardly cared.

"Everyone can die and everyone does die… at some point," the Prince replied with a lighthearted laugh.

Magenta realized it was time to agree with him. No more disagreeing… for now.

"Yes, yes. Lot's of people die," she said, with no emotion in her voice.

"If that's true," he whispered seductively, "then why care?"

"Because I cared for him. I loved him more than anything," Magenta said softly, barely holding back tears. She wanted to beat the prince to death, but knew that such a thing would decrease her already short life expectancy.

"How adorably sentimental. Now, shut up. I want to go watch peasants look like idiots. By the gods, some of them really can't dance!"

At least his arm wasn't wrapped around her waist anymore. At least his lipstick- drenched lips weren't near her ear now. That man really needed to learn to not over apply his makeup… or so Magenta thought.

Soon enough the party was over.

The almost all guests left. And then their host- the prince- went to his bedroom. A young lady who'd attended the party went with him. Magenta still stood in the ballroom, mad thoughts of revenge filling her mind. Would that son of hers, Dorian, show up? Had he died? Or had his 'family' not allowed him to travel here?

At this point he'd be old enough to legally make such decisions by himself… wouldn't he?

The only reason she hadn't done something stupidly suicidal at this point was the fact that Dorian might show up.

Meanwhile, at the house owned by Columbia's cousin…

Dorian and Eddie sat at the kitchen table. The time being 10:00, Columbia had already gone to bed. The two young men had decided to stay up until their hosts (Columbia's Uncle Will and cousin Larry) got back from some sort of dinner party they'd apparently been invited to.

Suddenly, they heard a knock at the door. Eddie decided to answer it, for some reason. His friend had already gotten a bit, ah, tipsy from the beer they'd found in the kitchen cabinet.

Eddie grinned when he saw who was there. "Glad to see ya. Brad's the name, yeah?"

"Yes. May I come in?"

"O' course. Only Dorian an' I- plus Columbia- are home right now."

"That's fine, since I just wanted to see Dorian," Brad replied.

And so Brad followed Eddie into the kitchen.

"Hi! You must be Dorian. I'm Brad Majors."

"Hello…" Dorian replied moodily.

When he'd had too much to drink Dorian acted quite like one of those 19th century poets. You know, the sort who are very angsty and often write about that cousin they married who died really young. He spouted more philosophical nonsense than someone high on absinthe might.

"Have you told him about that apparition we saw last night?" Brad asked.

"Nope!" Eddie replied, somewhat nervously.

"Hmm?" Dorian replied.

"We saw this dude who looked like you that time we both got real stoned."

"Unlike you, he was somewhat see-through and glowed silvery-white," Brad added.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Was he the ghost of my father?"

"I think so," Eddie replied.

"At what time did he appear?"

"Soon before midnight. My girlfriend's best friend also said he appeared at that time," Brad explained.

A dangerous look appeared on Dorian's face. "That's pretty much right now! What are we waiting for?"

Brad raised an eyebrow. "You want to go meet the ghost? Right now?"

"Why not?"

Nobody had a proper answer to that.


Please Review!