This is based on a fanpic over at DeviantArt: St. Ron, the Hero, by Minnnesotamutt. The picture shows Kim asleep in Ron's lap. Her ungloved hand is holdinghis ungloved hand while he is steadfastly maintaining a protective vigil. A halo surrounds his head.

For more on Walpurgisnacht and St. Walburga, consult Wikipedia, Encarta, etc. For more on St Cyneburga of Germania, stay tuned. Good night, dear readers--heh.

CHPT 1.

Kim was running--down the castle corridor. There were torches set in the wall every thirty feet or so--otherwise it was pitch dark. The sound of her feet on the stone floor echoed off the stone walls. The sound of feet behind her fell on her ear.. She looked over her shoulder; it was a werewolf with slavering jaws; run faster, she told herself grimly. Something brushed past her face; she yelped with fright; it was a bat. It became a human; a Count Dracula-looking figure, dressed in a suit and dark cape, gliding behind her, grinning fiercely. The thud of heavy feet caused her to glance back: a Cyclops, with greasy shoulder length hair, dressed in a loin cloth and waving a club.

The mission started ordinarily enough; Dr. Drakken's new lair was in a German castle, in the Black Forest. It looked like rather fairy tale-like--in the daylight; but this was Walpurgisnacht, the Witches' Festival, before May Day, just past midnight, in the wee hours. She so wasn't going to do this again--not without checking the calender.

The sound of a horse galloping overtook her to the right; it was a Headless Horseman, clutching a head by its hair--her father's head. "Kimmie-cub," it called to her, in a loud whisper, smiling horribly. It was too ghastly. The terror began to overwhelm her. On her left she heart a cackle: a Witch, on a flying broomstick--her mother--green skin, red eyes, red lips, a forked tongue, baring her fangs as she smiled. Cold sweat, pounding heart, ragged breath, mortal fear; she tripped and fell. Her pursuers were instantly upon her; she covered her face with her hands and screamed.

She sat up with a start, wide awake, gasping, and drenched in sweat. It was dark; the campfire crackled and Ron sat on the ground beside her. Rufus was startled awake, and looked anxiously at her. "Oh, Ron!" she sobbed, and huddled in his embrace, shivering like a leaf.

"Oh, K.P.," he spoke soothingly. "That's the third time tonight; it's this crazy Witch's holiday; you've been spooked since sunset."

In a few minutes, when the terror had subsided, and she was trembling less, she asked: "Ron, tell me again--when does our ride arrive?"

He smiled with gentle irony. "Sunrise--the quaint horse and carriage comes with the tourists to visit the castle. That's what we get for bailing out of the cargo plane with our parachutes instead of our jet packs. We're stuck here in the countryside while Drakken and Shego make their getaway in the last remaining hovercraft. Don't you remember, hon? We worked it out with Wade hours ago; you were looking forward to a night under the stars."

She snuggled close and gazed into those warm brown eyes. "That was before I started having dreams that looked like the Blair Witch Project."

His arm around her shoulders drew her even closer. He tapped his Ronunicator. "Shall I call Wade? There's that U.S. Army base nearby; they might send a chopper out to pick us up." He winked. "I'm sure our boys in uniform would be glad to host America's fave teenage super heroine."

"Thanks," she said wryly. "I'll settle for my boy in a mission suit. I feel better now." She stroked Rufus's head. "Sorry to scare you, Rufus."

"S'okay," the little animal squeaked. He stretched, yawned, and curled up on Ron's glove; in a moment his little snores were audible.

Kim drew her knees up and lay herself across Ron's lap. He stroked her hair while she looked up at him with a light of adoration in her eyes. "I could swear you have a halo around your head."

He laughed. "Hah! Rabbi would so flip out if he heard you say that; although Mom might agree with you; 'My boy,' she would say, 'the kosher saint'." He stroked her hair. "Want to tell me about the nightmare?" She shook her head; the horrid image of her parents as monsters was still too vivid.

"Ron, I feel like a little fun; pretend I'm Barkin in German Studies class, and I'm asking you about Walpurgis."

He was skeptical. "Can you imitate Barkin?"

"Of course--watch," she said brightly. "To begin with--note serious face;" and Ron chuckled at her imitation of him. It was a silly thing to do in the middle of the night in the middle of Germany, but how could he resist those twinkling green eyes?

She frowned, furrowed her brow, squared her shoulders, and stuck out her chest; and Ron had to acknowledge that Kim Possible in a close-fitting black crop top sticking out her chest looked much more attractive than Steve Barkin--"Ow!"

She had slapped his arm. "You're staring at my boobs! Stop it!"

"I am not! What gave you that idea?" But his red face and embarrassed grin gave him away.

"Come on, Ron; put your head in the game; pretend I'm Barkin."

"Oh, all right; but don't ask me to imagine Barkin in a crop top."

They looked at each other with an "Eww" expression, and both collapsed into gales of helpless laughter. The merry sound spread through the countryside and for those few moments chased away the shadows.

Ron was liking the new Kim; the old Kim was very self-conscious about her public image. She would have never tried to do an impression of someone else; it would be too demeaning. The Food Chain would so disapprove.

She did the Barkin frown quite well. "Stoppable, tell me about Walpurgis."

Ron did his old whiny persona quite well: "Mr. Barkin, what's that all about? It sounds like a salad dressing?"

"Stoppable--" the Barkin sigh "--I am losing my patience; answer the question."

Ron began the sing-song delivery. "Walpurgis Night is on April 30, the day before May Day, the traditional first day of Spring. It's named after St. Walburga, who lived in the eighth century. The pre-Christian belief was that the Spring conquered the Winter on this day. The elves and the spirits of the departed would emerge and dwell on the earth for the summer; but on the night before, the Witches would have one last festival; they would fly on their broomsticks to the bonfires on the mountains, and have sacrifices and dances, and worship the Male Goat God--or something like that. According to the German writer Goethe, Faust met the demon Mephistopheles on Walpurgis. Adolph Hitler committed suicide on Walpurgis Day in 1945."

A wolf howled in the distance, and Kim gulped. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

Ron tried something new. "How about I do my imitation of Gustave?"

Gustave von Holt was the caretaker of the castle. He had been the unwilling butler of Drakken and Shego during their brief occupancy; Drakken was untidy, leaving his gadgets all over the castle and Shego amused herself by shooting little balls of green fire at him; good riddance to them both. But the famous Kim Possible and her partner--that was a different matter.

"Frrraulein Posseebol." Ron rolled his r's and exaggerated the German accent. "I velcum you to Castle Cyneburga; und I velcum der famouz Herr Stoppabol und his amazing companion, RRRufus."

Kim giggled; Ron had it perfect. Ron and Rufus had been delighted to discover that someone knew their names; and they all were delighted--and appalled--to hear the story behind Castle Cyneburga: the story of St Cyneburga of Germania.