[Love Will Have Its Sacrifices opening theme] Alright. About a year ago I put my journalism project up online because my roommate was missing and- unbelievably enough, I’m doing it again. With J.P. & The Library’s help LaF thinks we can get one blast through the firewall, so we’re broadcasting everything we’ve recorded over the last few days. Because you need to know what’s going on: The Dean of Silas is some kind of ancient, unkillable, seriously evil… thing. She’s possessed my former Floor Don and is using the student body as slave labour to open the Gates of Hell. Near as we can tell she’s got four open already, and when she opens the seventh, it’s gonna unleash… well… Hell. Which- from everything we know- is gonna be immediately bad for Silas, and shortly thereafter the planet. When I put up that first vlog, I didn’t know if anyone could help. But if you’re out there, if there’s anything you can do- help us with the weird, non-Sumerian symbols we can’t translate, loan us a secret wand, or an army of ghosts, or Death Star blueprints, anything- We’ll take it. If we’re still- y’know- alive in a few days, we’ll try and broadcast again but- Until then just…keep on hoping. So not exactly “we will fight on the beaches”, huh? Was I not inspirational enough about the impending doom? Look, we have to stop the Dean. I wouldn’t be getting my Christiane Amanpour on if that wasn’t the most important thing there is, but- The girl who thought all she had to do to save the world was get a webcam and be all “Stand, women of Gondor!” She doesn’t live here anymore. I’m a realist now. I’m glad to hear that. Because if you’re planning to stay here and save the world then we need to establish some ground rules. One. No more keeping secrets about vast supernatural conspiracies. That’s fair. Two. No more gallivanting off on dangerous missions. We don’t gallivant. Three. You run by any plan or activity that you intend to undertake by me for safety assessment. And you will wear any safety gear I deem necessary. Dad! I am not wearing a biohazard suit again! So I’ll just be anywhere but here. You must think I’m ridiculous what with your sex, blood and rock-n-roll attitude. But this is my job. Just- Making sure that she is safe for as long as possible. And how do you plan on doing that? By locking her up in a tower? It’s a thought. Maybe something with really high walls. Yeah and like a deep moat maybe? Yeah. Yeah and maybe one of those man-eating dragons to guard it. Do you think that would work? I don’t know, she’s always had a knack for finding trouble. Oh don’t I know it? When she was five, she tried to rally her kindergarten class against the evils of Princess Culture. It was no less terrifying then. I bet. See, which is why I don’t understand why you would have her stay here instead of coming home with me. You think it was my idea? What, she- Oh please, she did not dig her heels in until after her little chat with you. Trust me; if she were listening to me you’d both be on your way back home. Well. Yeah. That is unexpected, thank you. Did she really try to start a kindergarten uprising? And there she was pigtails and all and she says, “I have proof, Mr. Vice-Principal, that you have been embezzling from the fourth grade Candygram Fund!” You’re kidding me. He had to resign. In fact there was a picture of her in the local newspaper that I think I still have in my wallet. Uh Dad what’re you- No that’s her pre-school pageant right there. What is happening here? I’m just showing Carmilla some photos. Some baby- Oh God this is what an aneurysm feels like. Oh come on don’t be embarrassed. That’s her little ladybug costume! Nooo, no no no no. It’s time for you to go. You have to help LaFontaine with a science- powertool. Just go! [Amused lesbian vampire laughter] I don’t know what you’re getting all pink and huffy about. You mean besides the mortification? He’s proud of you. Which is amazing when you’re five. At nineteen he could start treating me like an adult, y’know? I don’t know. The only father I ever had saw me as an inconvenience until I was old enough to be traded as chattel. So, I can’t really empathize with embarrassing wallet photos. Carm I- I didn’t think of that. Nah it’s ok it’s not something you have to- I know but no, it is. Cause we’re friends now right? Yeah. Sure. Friends. Yes. Friends. Y’know, people who care when their callous attitude hurts the other ones feelings. What’re you- Wait, is this because I wanted you to leave? No. Yes. Do you know how that felt after everything? It was to keep you safe. Which is all you’ve been saying you’ve wanted to do for the past two months while you moped around embroidering Firefly dialogue on the curtains. And then you didn’t even go! Well sorry my post-traumatic revelation was inconveniently timed for you. Your post- Oh mean how you’re a realist now? Yeah. A “realist”? Really? Well it’s better than being a- You’re just lying to yourself about that. A what? Smug. Hypocritical. Superior. Delusional. Condescending. Tightly-wound. Narcissistic. Prissy. Uncaring. Nerdy. Nihilistic little- Little journalist. You wish you were. Undead. [Phone ringing. Talk about an interuption] [On the phone] Hey Hollis. Oh my god. Betty? We got your Doomsday broadcast at Princeton, and if you and Single White Vampire aren’t too busy, I’ve got your translation. I’m sorry what? Those symbols you’re whining about? They aren’t Sumerian, they’re proto-Akkadian. They mean “shepherd” and “sword”. So I’m pretty sure your second talisman is that light eating butcher knife Drusilla dropped in the Anglerfish pit.