If you haven't read Deoman before this... well, I don't think it's really necessary. I'll see if I can make it work for either way, so you tell me how it goes if you're new. Give me 'till the end of the chapter.

-Times Change, People Don't-

Chapter 1

Time had passed, as is required of it.

A years passage had not made as much of an impact on the city of Hercart as people had hoped it would. Looking at previous events one would think it should have done, but the thing about these events were that they all happened to other people. Although it was a point to smile about for a while, the defeat of a leader of monsters did nothing which directly altered the life of Mrs Chucks, apart from being a good gossip point. The fact that a local man had quickly risen to the rank of Deoman Hunter because of the actions of him and his companions did nothing to really change Miss Vendors life. It also didn't help that Hercart was as impressionable as a rock.

People will always be the ones who only really care about things which make a direct impact to their own personal little lives. Times can change. The nature of the world can change, but people won't.

True, over the last year Bart Cooper's life had been spun around several times and covered in whipped cream (metaphorically, naturally. He didn't like cream) but this did nothing to change his attitude. His appearance, perhaps, but nothing on Heaven would detain him from being a moody bastard to the world in general. He felt it was expected of him.

It was just another day in his new life. A plan was underway- a plan which he was a part of. It was called "Shift out some of the excess buggers from our city to Somewhere Else". The Somewhere Else this time was a small village constructed from the remnants of the old one, destroyed by Deomans years ago. It was three miles away from Hercart at most, rebuilt by anyone who cared or was paid enough. Some people were to be moved there, to supposedly live a happy life. If the 'volunteers' refused, they were promptly shown how happy a life they would have compared to the one they would spend at home. In the constant company of several city guards.

Unfortunately, although many of the older Deomans had been keeping quiet momentarily, there were a few who didn't know when to stay down. There would always be a few- teenagers, mostly. However, Hercart underestimated their strength and spunk last time they set out a new home, resulting in disaster.

That's why this time they were sending Bart, too.

People who didn't know him weren't too sure about their safety. Riding with them in the coach because he couldn't ride a horse ("We don't get on" was his excuse) was this shabby runt of a man for whom no amount of sleep would remove the bags from under his eyes, and the finest of clothes would not make look presentable. And he was the only defence they got from Deomans. People were worried.

He wasn't looking forwards to it. He had a horrible feeling in his gut that something bad was going to happen, as this was the feeling he had practically all of the time.

In answer to this he heard a sharp rap against the door of the coach. He leant his head out of the window, and was not sure if he met a welcomed sight or a dreaded one. He had been waiting for it, nonetheless... He rose to his feet and exited. Perhaps if he was lucky they would set off while he was out.

"Hey, Barty!"

"Hey... Julian," he replied. A long time it had been since they had seen each other, but he still wouldn't get used to addressing his former slave by his first name. "How'd you find me here?"

"I asked around. Going out to protect people? That's nice, but not really like you. I just guess it's a good you healed up. Back walking again, eh?"

"Partially." His injury had left him for a long time without the use of his legs, but rest and healing from mages at nearly every hour of the day had now got him back up onto his feet. "Only been about a month since I got up, mind."

"To be honest I think you should drop the stick. Makes you look real feeble."

Bart's mouth opened a few times, yet no sound came out. "D-drop the stick? This isn't out of choice! If I dropped the stick I'd probably hit the floor before it did!"

"Yeah, but it'd be funny..." said Perry, scratching the back of his head. He caught Bart's expressions. "Mm. But, er, why are they sending you off if you can hardly walk? Might be a bit of a hindrance, you know what I mean?"

"I'm not sure either, but I don't really get a say anymore. I think they're just hoping that the Deomans won't come because they're frightened of me."

Perry gave a snort, causing Bart's expression to become slightly more bitter. He was beginning to remember why he tried to get rid of him in the first place."How's it going with Ash?"

His spirit suddenly seemed to be dampened slightly. "Oh, it's... good, it's good..." Somehow this did not sound good at all. "So, er, you're looking different since the last time I saw you."

"That's my new life for you, Julian," answered Bart, who could see a quick subject change when one was rubbed in his face. "The new clothes, and the washing every month, and..."

"No, no, I wasn't talking about that," said Julian quickly. "I was referring more to..." He tapped his finger against his forehead. Bart automatically raised his hand to his own. "What?"

"Receding, aren't you?"

"No!"

"I swear, last time I see you it's goin' grey, the next time I see you it's disappearing..."

"I'm not receding!" he swore again, his fingers running back through his hair, which he had been quite proud of still possessing. Even if it was going grey, admittedly. But it was all still there, wasn't it?

"Thirty-nine years young, eh?" said Julian with a grin. "Deary me, Barty... If I was loosing my hair-"

"Well there isn't much chance of that, is there?" Bart muttered. "Being a werewolf you're naturally well endowed with the stuff."

It was Julian's turn to scowl. "Erm... kinda try not to mention the fact that I'm a... well, you know..."

This amused Bart slightly. "That you're a werewolf? Why not? For the past years I saw you, you were proud of being a hairy mutt every now and then."

"Ash is trying to... get it out of me. It's hell restraining all the little bits, like the ears, the tail, the teeth... but I try... I try."

This wasn't right. Bart hadn't seen him since the 'happy couple' had gone off to Hiscart together, but he found himself slightly concerned for his... for his... all right, his friend's condition. Julian Perry loved being a werewolf, it was a fact of the world. To force him to go through the physical and mental stress of not being one, even in the small ways, was... not right. It was like ordering a fish not to swim. "Why doesn't she want you to be what you are? I thought she liked you that way."

"Yeah. She did. But... I dunno, she thinks I can be better, or something. Werewolves are as unpopular in Hiscart as they are here. Slaves, nothing more. As usual." He sniffed. "She also reckons having a werewolf for a dad is not 'befitting' of a growing child."

Bart's brow wrinkled. "Child? What do you..." His gaze was drawn down towards a young girl stood behind Julian who he hadn't noticed before. "Oh, I never knew that Ash had kids before. I thought she would have mentioned it-"

"Oh no, she's mine. This is my daughter."

"Daughter?" That didn't make sense. Julian had been gone for nearly a year and a half. This girl, however, looked like she was about four... Then it struck him. Different species had different aging patterns. "So she's also a-"

"Yes she is," he answered hurriedly. Bart was all the more curious. How was Ash going to keep Julian's species under cover to their daughter when she was the same? It should be interesting. Well, well, well... Julian a daddy. It seemed so wrong it should be illegal. "What's her name?"

"Inca," he answered proudly, and also slightly glad the topic had again been shifted. "I named her."

"Yes... I bet you did..." muttered Bart, wondering what had happened to Mary and Sue. He noticed that she was staring up at him in that determined way young children do at people who happen to be unnerved by it. She was of a very small frame, but practically everyone was now due to the food shortage. Her hair was long, yet unlike Perry's pure white hair hers was deep red. Like Ash's. It truly was like the two of them had been fused together to make a much smaller being. Against all story-telling rules, she did not have her mother's eyes. She had her father's- Bright blue and clashing somewhat with the red.

Julian shook his head. "How do you do it, Barty?"

"Do what?"

"Be a parent. You managed it- David seemed to be turning out pretty well-"

He was wandering over forbidden boundaries now. "I'll never know how my son was going to turn out, will I," he said, darkly. "Anyway, I don't pretend to be the authority on parenting. From what I recall you just... Shout at the right moments, and that you're only allowed to use the palm of your hand opposed to a fist if their under eight. That's as much as I remember, anyway."

Julian looked slightly awkward. "Erm... It's kinda hard to ask this, but... could you do me a favour, Barty?"

"As long as you stop calling me Barty," he attempted again. He tried every time, yet he knew it wouldn't work. It was a pet hate of his.

"Can't promise that, I'm 'fraid. But, er... I need to go somewhere for a bit... could you..."

"Look after Inca for a bit?" he finished for him. He somehow had the impression that this 'somewhere' Julian needed to go was a wide open space in which he could bound and howl for a bit. "Depends for how long."

"Just a bit, honest."

Well... it would mean doing something nice, but... "All right. But just for a while."

He grinned. "Thanks, Barty. You're a life saver." He knelt down next to Inca and started to say something quiet to her. Bart managed to catch a "Now be good for Uncle Barty, daddy's going to be away for a little while..." in the typical sing-song voice.

So, he was 'Uncle Barty' now, was he? Uncle... that would make him Perry's... best not to think about it.

And so he was left with her- His best friend's daughter, who was also scowling. She seemed to be even less pleased about the temporary partnership than he was. "So..." he began. "How... how old are you, then...?"

"Three months old," she replied, without the trace of a lisp or stutter. Bart was even more unnerved now. Deomans he could handle- children were another thing. You couldn't stab them, for a start. Gods, why had he just agreed to this?

"You don't smell very nice," she announced. "You smell of a smell daddy was like one night when he came back home late. Mummy told him off."

"Well, that smell will be 'beer' then, I imagine."

"Why do you need a stick?"

"Because I can't walk very well... Inca." Inca. Where they hell did he get 'Inca' from? She sounds like a writing tool.

"The coach behind you is moving away," she said. "Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't know that, and- What?!" He turned, only to see that it was true. Why hadn't they waited for him? Just because they thought he was useless, that was no reason to leave him behind. He looked from the coach, to the girl, to his stick. "Shit, shit, shit..."

There was a small disapproving sound.

"Poo, poo, poo..." There was nothing for it. With his free arm he picked up Inca, and then did something which was halfway between a limp and a run. Someone was looking back at him through the window. They weren't trying to bring the coach to a halt, however. On the contrary. They seemed to be laughing.

His face contorted with determination, he finally managed to get himself onto the little ledge by the door. He carefully placed Inca down inside, and then hauled himself on with difficulty. He slumped back into a chair to wheeze. Damn that Perry, how was he going to get his daughter back so easily now? It was definitely going to be slightly longer than 'a little while'.

"I think you need more exercise," Inca decided, clambering onto the seat next to him. "Then you wouldn't get so tired just from a little run."

"Mmf," he answered, although there was a little sense it what she said. He hadn't needed to exert himself at all ever since the incident, and he hadn't thought that when he tried again it would be so hard. Defending the new village wasn't going to be as easy as he had primarily hoped. He just had to pray that no Deoman would decide to attack. He was screwed if they did.

On the other hand... For so long it had been serene and gentle. No fighting, and such. Although at the time he hadn't appreciated it, he was starting to miss fighting for his life every day. Well, it looked like he might soon be getting another taste of it.

He turned to look at Inca, who was sitting very quietly with her arms folded. She wasn't swinging her legs about and fiddling with her fingers, as Bart thought to be the usual practice for young children. Damn that Perry. She was going to be a... complication.

Well, I'm back. And I'm dragging the sequel in with me.

For anyone who read Deoman, I hope this is going to be up to scratch. Be mindful, though, that it's a little bit of a risk starting with this so soon (Hey, it's soon in my opinion). There are still a few plot holes which I hope to have filled by the time I reach them. Why did I start if I wasn't ready? Because I bloody love writing this thing so much, that's why ;)

For anyone who hasn't read Deoman, I would be most grateful to know if it makes sense on it's own. Naturally, some parts have been left unanswered so far. Don't ask what a Deoman is.

Please review!