A/n: And so the tale comes to an end- quite literally because my laptop has about 20 minutes of power left. Long story short my power bar has ended up 20 miles away from me. Anywho, thanks to everyone who has reviewed throughout. I really appreciate all the positive comments I've received, and the occasional constructive criticism. Special thanks goes to Tikatu for pointing out something I hadn't previously observed in the story. Thanks to her observations this chapter has been suitably revamped. :)

And I can't possibly give enough thanks to spinkle22, who devoted an allotment of her own personal time to making this a heck of a lot better than it was when I started. Thank you so much!

I'll be around in the near future, but I'm unsure when the next actual story will be posted. Maybe in a month? Regardless, thanks again to everyone! We are now at 4% power and counting so lets get on with the show...

She sat in the pantry clutching her legs, and glancing at her watch every few seconds. Scott had downright terrified her and she had no intention of leaving her haven unless the house caught fire or something exploded. She also had no doubt that this would be the case. In the meantime she wasn't letting those boys come anywhere near her. She'd shoved a broom underneath the handle of the door and was shivering against the far wall of the small room.

Tonight had been the worst night of her life. She ran through each individual scenario in her head from the disastrous game of scrabble and the first disappearance of the unholy imp, to the most recent slip up in the lounge and the revelation that the horrid creature could, in fact, speak. Of all the words he could have chosen...

The explosion that she had been dreading suddenly came. The house didn't exactly shake on its foundations, but there was an extremely loud noise from the room directly above her. For a long moment she seriously considered ignoring it and just staying in her warm, dry, safe room. But on the other hand if something happened to the kids the grandmother would probably come after her with an ax... and where on earth had that image come from?

Carefully, she moved the broom to one side, flinching as she did so, and reached for the handle.

"On three," she muttered to herself.

One, two, three! She didn't open the door. Taking a deep, supposedly calming breath, she tried again.

One, two three... Again she failed. Conjuring the image of a crazy old lady with an ax once again in her mind for an incentive, she started counting.

One, two, three! She tugged the handle down, and yanked the door open. The kitchen beyond was silent. Cautiously she crept through the room, and then edged along the wall until she was beside the door frame. Slowly she poked her head around the side, and glanced up and down the corridor. It too was empty.

It was a mark of just how far her sanity had degraded that she went towards the lounge rather than the stairs. In her mind, she assured herself that she was making sure she wasn't crept up on from behind. Slowly she leaned around the frame, peering into the room. It was pristine; in every way. There was no paint upon the floor, no toppled easel, no canvas rendition of that cat. It was as if the entire paint incident had never happened. And yet the paint on her back, and in her hair, said otherwise.

She giggled, and then abruptly stopped. She was imagining things, that was all. There was still paint everywhere; it was just her paranoid mind trying to protect her. From upstairs another small explosion boomed forth. This time it was followed by the distinct screaming of a two year old.

OoO

"Kitchen?"

"Clear."

"Lounge?"

"Clear."

"Hallway?"

"Clear."

"Garden."

"Clear?"

"Why was that a question?"

"I couldn't untie the knot on the tap. But everything else is away."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll take care of that. But, other than the knot, the house is all clear for Grandma?"

Three heads nodded back at him. He glanced at John. "Time check?"

John looked down at his wrist. "Fifteen minutes and counting. And you owe me a new chemistry set for Christmas."

"Right. Everyone ready for operation blackout?"

"Ready!"

OoO

Alysha was only a few steps from the stairs when the lights went out. She screamed and began looking around for anyone or anything that could attack her. The hallway was pitch black, save for a faint glow coming from the sitting room, where the curtains were still open. She really, really, wished she had stayed in the pantry. She felt something brush against her arm, and heard footsteps running up the stairs. At first she wanted to follow, but then thought better of it. Instead, she headed towards the only source of light she could see.

The sitting room was eerily lit, the dull glow from the moon and the street lamps casting a pale light over everything. Shadows seemed bigger now, looming, and ready to claw her into their gaping maws. She ran for the corner and huddled there, her eyes glued to the doorway. She didn't know what she'd do if anything came through but she'd be ready for it. The floor squeaked above her and she gave a tiny whimper. This was definitely the worst night of her life.

"Alysha," a voice whispered from somewhere near her. She shrieked and jumped to her feet, glancing every which way, desperately searching the shadows for the source of the voice.

There was nothing.

"Alysha," came a different voice, from the other side of the room. She heard the front door open.

"M-M-Mrs. T-T-Tracy?" she stuttered. "I-i-i-is that y-you?"

The door shut, and nothing answered.

Something furry brushed against her legs. She screamed again and lashed a foot out, hoping to kick the thing away. Whatever it was, she missed it.

For a few more minutes she pressed herself into the wall, trembling and scanning the floor for furry somethings.

Eventually, it occurred to her that she should check on the boys. Shaking violently she stood up and stepped away from the wall. She moved quietly through the room, eyes flitting over the shadows, and emerged into the hallway. Carefully, she felt for the handrail, and slowly she made her way up the stairs. There was nothing at the top of the hallway, except for the nightlight at the very far end; it didn't seem to be plugged in correctly because it was flickering erratically.

"Boys?" she whispered, and took another few steps down the hallway. "Boys?"

No one answered her.

She arrived at the first door, and slowly opened it. The room was streaked with light that was being broken up by the blinds. No one seemed to be there. Moving onto the next room, she again found nothing but empty beds and scattered toys. She approached the third and last door, or at least the last one that led to the boys' bedrooms, and slowly opened it. To her dismay this room too was empty. Just to make sure, she took a few steps in.

"BOO!" a little voice cried.

She screamed as the lights snapped on.

OoO

Grandma Tracy drove along Meadowlark Drive, at exactly the road speed limit, no more and no less. It was 8:59, and she was going to arrive at her son's house at exactly nine o'clock. She wasn't worried at all. The boys had been babysat before, although admittedly only a few times. Normally she was the one doing the babysitting.

But Jefferson had assured he had hired the best babysitter he could find. All her previous clients swore by her, and she had a list of credentials as long as her arm. He had gone as far as to do a background check on her. Nothing had turned up, and she had been called in for the job. But Mrs. Tracy couldn't help the feeling that five boys was an awful lot for one girl. Particularly with Scott being in such an awful mood lately. He was fine around her, of course- she wouldn't allow anything else- but she had heard from her son that as soon as she left, her eldest grandson would often sink into the most foul of moods.

But it was only for four hours. And she was confident that Scott had the common sense and good grace to be more of a help than a hindrance.

As the moderately large house loomed at the curve of the cul de sac, she saw that the lights in all of the bedrooms were out, and the first floor was brightly lit. She pulled the little blue Honda into the drive, and deciding to leave her bags in the car for now, opened the door. She strode up the path and favored knocking on the door, not wanting to wake the boys with the doorbell.

OoO

Alysha sat on the stairs, staring at the door. It was 8:59. Any minute now the boys' Grandmother would be here and this horrible night would be over. She would be free. Free!

A knock on the door.

She lunged for it and practically threw it open. A woman stood there, her hand still raised from knocking on the door. She didn't look particularly old but at this particular moment Alysha really couldn't care less. She grabbed her duffel bag from the floor and squeezed past the woman onto the front step. Grandma Tracy, presumably that was who she was, obligingly moved into the house.

"My... are you Alysha?"

OoO

What a state the girl was in! She was covered in paint and mud and seemed to have bits of pepperoni stuck in her hair. The hair itself was held in a gravity defying position by something orange and she smelt oddly of cat and... was that sick?

"My dear, are you all right? Are the boys-"

"Oh yes. Fine, fine. All fine. Asleep, actually. Them, not me. Not Scott. Don't know about Scott," the girl rambled.

"Did they behave?" Grandma asked sternly.

The babysitter gave a twitchy smile. "Behave? Oh yes, yes! Behaved all right. Angels. Oh god, scary little demon angel."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing! Nothing. Lovely meeting you. Must go now. Have a nice visit-stay-thing!" Alysha said, backing down the path towards the street. Grandma was about to call her back to ask just what had happened when something fell from the sky, and landed on the girl's head. In the brief glimpse she had of it, she saw something black and gangly, and it appeared to be a cat. But then the babysitter was running, screaming down the path, and was off up the road, cat still attached to her head.

"Grandma!" she heard her eldest cry. She turned to see him bounding down the stairs. He ran up to her and hugged her. She hugged him back, before turning and watching the screaming girl sprint to the end of the road. The cat was still swaying on her head when she rounded the corner and disappeared from view. Her voice trailed behind for a few seconds before that too disappeared into the evening.

"What a strange girl," Grandma said, her eyebrows raised.

"You have no idea, Grandma. You have no idea." There was an odd look of complete and utter innocence sparkling in his eyes. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was missing out on a rather large part of the story.

The next morning when she found a hairball the size of her head blocking the lint collector in the washing machine her suspicions were confirmed.

"BOYS!"

Sitter Suggestion #100: Never baby-sit the Tracys.