A/N: I know people have been asking if Eileen was dating Don. Truthfully, I'm not sure yet. It was an idea from my brother. So, I need you to vote on your opinion in my poll (found on my profile page). Thanks!


I couldn't help but think how disappointed Margaret looked after I sped off like that. Kinda like what Morticia did to me, like some sort of wicked irony, like whatever gods are up there are just playing with us.

The thought was too weird.

I focused on getting back to the house. What could Rigby possibly want? It's Saturday, he knows I usually spend my Saturdays at the Coffee Shop. His text sounded urgent, though I guess you really can't pick up tones in a text.

I don't remember much of the time in-between the leaving the Coffee Shop and going to the house, but I do remember seeing Eileen sitting on a park bench, giddy with joy. Huh. Wonder where she was.

I decided I'd go ahead and ask, because why not?

"Hey Eileen! What's up?" I asked her, parking the cart.

"Oh, nothing. Just got back from spending time with my new best friend, and I decided I'd take a walk in the park." she replied. "Tell Rigby I said hi!"

New best friend, huh? Must me that rabbit girl I saw earlier in the Coffee Shop. "Okay, can-do!"


"Mordecai! Mordecai!" Rigby said, way too excitedly as I entered the house. He was holding something behind his back, which was never a good sign.

"Eileen say hi." I said.

"Yeah, okay, whatever. I invented a time traveling drink! I call it Rigjuice 2.0!" Rigby said, holding up a pitcher of purple (of all colors) liquids. "And it actually works!"

"This isn't anything like the original Rigjuice is it?" I asked.

"No, no, this one actually tastes good! " Rigby says. He tells me the ingredients, most of which I'm not willing to repeat.

"Hm... what would I need to go back in time for anyway?" I asked, unsure of what he'd say.

"I dunno, maybe you need to fix something stupid you did? I know I did..." Rigby trails off. "Anyway, just take the pitcher and try for yourself."

Sure, why not? What's the worst that could happen? A lot of things, actually... I grab the pitcher and downed most of it in one gulp.

...whoa...

It tastes... good...

Almost... too good...

...like... magic...

What... the... hell...?


I don't remember passing out. I guess no one really does, though. I woke up in a bed. It wasn't my bed. in fact, it wasn't any of the beds in the house. I wasn't even in any of the rooms in the house.

"What the hell?" I asked, apparently out loud. There was a human guy, laying on the bed opposite the room from me. I couldn't see his face, the room was too dark.

"Dude, Mordo, I'm trying to sleep." said the guy sleepily. "Shut up."

What time was it? I checked the digital clock. 1:38 AM. Geez, where was I? And why is it 1:38 in the morning? I'm pretty sure it was afternoon when Rigby...

Rigby! He must have done... er... something!

"Alright Rigby," I said. "The jig is up. I know you're doing something."

"Mordecai, shut up! Some of us have things to go to in the mornin'!" said the guy. His voice was familiar, though I can't tell why. "Besides, shouldn't you be meetin' up with your girlfriend?"

"My... girlfriend?" I ask. I know what's going on now, but I need to deny it.

"Yes. Your girlfriend." he sits upright, obviously never going to get any sleep (sorry). "What, you think I don't know that you sneak off to the Winchester buildin' to see her?"

DAMN. DAMN DAMN DAMN.

"You got me," I say. "Heheh..."

Rigjuice 2.0 worked. It actually fucking worked. I'd give Rigby a million dollars if I didn't wanna punch him in the face.

"You better get goin'" he says, his deep voice more prominent. "Don't wanna get a girl like her upset."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." I say, sitting up. "See you later... Paul."

I get up, put on a random jacket, and walk out the door.

"My name's Peter!" I hear my roommate yell.


I start walking to the Winchester building, and then, I stop. Right in the middle of the walkway.

There's snow everywhere. Winter. I know all too well what happened in winter the first time, no way I'm going through that hell again. I should've just punched Morti right in her raven-esque face, last time. Then maybe February wouldn't have happened, and maybe Margaret wouldn't have been involved.

Maybe.