Daphne examined the outside of the club and smiled a bit. Yes, she thought to herself. At last, revenge will be mine. Flipping her long, layered auburn hair behind her ears, she casually strolled inside, enjoying the approving stares from the boys and looks of disgust from their girlfriends. Seeing an empty table to the side of the rather small stage, she headed straight for it and sat down slowly. She leaned back and crossed her legs, making sure the tight little miniskirt was riding up high enough to make men want to take a closer look. She giggled a little at her foolproof plan, impatiently waiting for the first part to be carried out.

~*~

"This is it!" Davy cried happily to the other Monkees backstage. "Our big break!"

"Yeah, who'd have thunk it?" Micky agreed, practically bouncing up and down from the excitement.

Mike grinned widely, but managed to keep somber. "Whoa, you guys. Calm down! Don't want you to start hyperventilating up on stage now. We gotta show that talent agent we're the best group this side of California! Y'all ready?" The other nodded enthusiastically and Mike's smile got wider. "Then let's go!" The four skipped onto the stage and positioned themselves with their rightful instruments. Mike announced the first song of the night and launched energetically into the set.

~*~

Daphne smiled coyly as she realized Mike failed to notice her presence here. That would make it so much better. She set her large black purse in her lap and reached in, casually gripping a little doll. So, who's my first victim? She brought the little figure to the opening of her purse, so nobody but herself can see it. It was a tall, thin doll with a scrap of wildly colored fabric sewn onto it. Topping it's head off is a bunch of soft, silky blond hair. Never taking her eyes off the matching figure on stage, she began to caress the doll slowly.

~*~

Peter Tork's eyes widened in surprise as he felt shivers run up and down his spine. All of a sudden, he felt dizzy and light. Maybe it was the cold that had been going around Malibu Beach-

~*~

Daphne grinned at Peter's reaction. That was just what she had hoped for. Now, down to business. She took a couple of long, sharp pins from her bag and began sticking them deep into the body of the doll.

~*~

Onstage, Peter suddenly cried out in pain and grabbed his left arm. He yelped again and grabbed his leg, and toppled to the floor of the stage. The others immediately stopped playing to check on him.

"Peter? Pete?" Micky screeched worriedly. "What's wrong, man?"

Peter couldn't answer. Tears of pain started forming in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. He screamed and grabbed his stomach, curling into a fetal position and kicking his good leg hard, as if it'll shake off the pain.

"This is bad," Davy mumbled. "We should get him to a hospital-"

The talent agent who had been sitting at the table closest to stage had run to call for an ambulance. He now came back and was trying to calm the crowd.

"I'm sorry, boys," he whispered to the group. "Maybe next time. He's obviously in no condition to perform."

Mike nodded solemnly and turned his attention back to Peter. Before he could focus on his friend, though, he caught a glimpse of someone who looked very familiar.

~*~

Daphne smiled in delight as Mike stared at her in horror. Waving at him, she held up the little doll of Peter and slowly stuck one last pin in.

~*~

Peter howled in agony as another pain hit him hard. He shuddered violently and finally passed out. Mike was immediately up onto his feet and after the girl. Several teenyboppers got in his way, and by the time he reached the table, the girl was gone.

~*~

"How do you feel, Peter?" Davy asked as he strolled into the living room. It was the day after the incident and the blond had claimed to feel much better.

"I don't hurt at all!" he grinned proudly.

"That's good," Davy also smiled and headed for the kitchen. As soon as he was out of Peter's sight, he frowned. The doctors couldn't figure out what had caused the pain. They put it off as minor muscle discomfort from playing bass too often. Davy snorted a little at the very thought of it. "Sure," he muttered to himself. "You play too much bass and get a stomachache and leg cramps." He grabbed the keys to the Monkeemobile and called Peter over. "Time for your check up, Peter. Doc says you have to come in this morning to make sure you don't get a relapse."

Peter bounced off the couch in his usual happy manner and followed the Englishman out.

~*~

Daphne sat on her bed in her apartment and grinned. She held a large crystal ball in the palms of her hands and was gazing intensely into it. The light from some rips in her curtain pierced through the globe, reflecting brilliant colors across her cold, dark face. Inside the crystal ball, she saw Davy and Peter leave the pad.

"Perfect," she cooed to the bright sphere, running her fingertips along its surface. She set the ball down on her crystal ball holder, and reached into the purse she had tossed aside last night. From it, she took the Peter doll and two others, who bear striking resemblances to Micky and Davy. Chuckling to herself, she took the Micky doll by it's curly hair and positioned it on a miniature model of the spiral staircase in the Monkees' Pad.

"Oops," she sighed contently and pushed the doll over the edge. She then wrapped one hand around its head and the other around its body and proceeded to rip it in half by the neck.

~*~

"Micky!" Mike called from outside the bathroom. "Breakfast is ready! Go eat and give me a chance to shower!"

Micky came out of the shower with a throbbing headache. That'll teach him not to stay up so late anymore. He marched past Mike in his bathrobe and with a deadpan expression on his face. Turning his head, he saluted, earning a raised eyebrow expression from the Texan.

"Enough clowning around, Dolenz," the taller man chuckled. "I hope you left the bathroom in decent shape."

Micky put on his most innocent expression and grinned. "I'm not that bad-" He hopped onto the railing of the staircase and proceeded to slide down as he had down every morning. But this time, something felt wrong. Mike took a hesitant step towards the drummer and froze as he saw him fall backwards over the railing.

"MICKY!!" he screamed, but even his yell couldn't drown out the loud crack as Micky's head connected with the ground. Mike rushed to the railing and peered down; every bit of him hoping his friend was alright. What met his eyes told him different. Micky laid unmoving on the hard floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle and his face frozen in a look of surprise.

~*~

Daphne giggled as she watched Mike in the crystal ball. It was so beautiful to see the expression on his face when he looked over the railing and saw the dead drummer. She was sent on a mental high when the police came and questioned him, his look of confusion and the officers' suspicious looks. She even nearly had an orgasm when Davy and Peter arrived home just as the ambulance had driven off and started asking him questions about Micky.

"Who will be the next to die-?"

~*~

"What was that all about, Mike?" Davy demanded. "What happened to Micky? Is he alright?"

"I don't know," Mike groaned. "He fell off the railing and hurt himself." He refused to say any more, which will probably drive Peter into tears and he really didn't need that right now. "It wasn't an accident-" he mumbled silently to himself.

"What was that?" Peter turned his worried eyes to Mike.

"Oh, nothing Pete. I said Micky'll probably be fine. You know how thick his skull is." He hated lying to his friends, but that was the least of his worries right now.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Davy jumped from his perch on the stairs and opened the door. Looking around, he saw no one, but when he turned his gaze down, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Hey Mike, looks like you got a secret admirer," he grinned, handing the heart shaped box to the Texan. It was covered in frills and lace, with the name "Mike" delicately hand-painted to the cover.

Mike frowned down at it, taking a guess at who it was from. "Daphne-"

Peter gave Mike a curious look as he opened the box and gasped. Inside, it was filled with animal crackers, but each one was carefully decapitated and soaked in blood. Mike staggered a little, almost dropping the box, but Peter caught it just before it fell and gave Mike a curious look.

"Wow! Animal crackers and ketchup! One of my favorites! Can I have some, Michael?" he asked, and before the other could respond, Peter took out a dripping sheep and popped it into his mouth.

~*~

Daphne cackled in delight as she watched the bass player consume her crackers. She took up the doll of him again and a small pair of pliers. Laughing almost hysterically now, she squeezed the pliers down on the doll's throat and held on tight. Then she turned her gaze back to the crystal ball.

~*~

Peter chewed thoughtfully on the cracker as Mike stumbled up to him. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide with horror as his hands reached up to his neck. He desperately clawed at his throat in panic.

"Spit it out!" Mike screamed at him, pounding his back blindly. Davy stood off to the side, gaping for a few seconds, then immediately headed for the phone to call for help.

Saliva slowly made it's way out from between Peter's lips and dripped to the ground. He tried gasping for oxygen, but it just wouldn't come to him. He opened his mouth and the well-chewed sheep dropped from his mouth to the floor with a disgusting splat. Mike quickly laid Peter down on the floor and started mouth to mouth on the poor boy, but no matter how hard he tried to force air in, none would go through. It was as if his throat was closed off entirely.

In the distance, Mike heard the sound of ambulances returning, but looking down at his blond friend, he knew it was too late. Peter's face had turned purple from the lack of oxygen and his blood had ceased to flow a long time ago. Mike sat back buried his face in his hands. He couldn't cry, but he couldn't help thinking it was all his fault. He just sat there, still as a statue, as the paramedics came rushing back, surrounding him with a dull buzz of activity.

~*~

Daphne was rolling on her bed with laughter. "I know what you're thinking, Mike, my dear. You think it's your fault don't you? You have no clue how right you are!" She sat up and screaming into her crystal ball, as if Mike could hear her through it. "You're the one who sent me to that mental hospital just because you thought I was 'a danger to myself and others'! Do you know what it's like in there? All around me, people screaming for help, crying, pathetic whimpering- If you aren't mad when they put you in, you will be in a couple of days-" She paused a moment to breath in calmness. "Oh, but that's all in the past now. My time there had ended and now yours is about to begin-"

~*~

Davy gazed at Mike unbelievingly as the taller man spouted out the whole story. How he had Daphne had dated a while back and how she had wanted him to beat up on her.

"She was a freaking masochist!" he grumbled, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "I had her sent to a mental correctional institute and I thought that was that last I would hear from her. But now- she's killed Micky and Peter, and she might be going for you next."

"Oh man-" Davy shook his head. "And you're saying she used magic to hurt us?"

"She was a witch. Not one of them fruity wiccans, but a bone fide witch."

"I-I can't take this. I'm going out for a walk. I need to think this out-" Davy stood up slowly, distress plastered clear across his face.

"Davy, don't. I know you're still in shock, but you have to be careful. She could kill you anytime she wanted."

Davy slowly nodded in understanding before he exited through the back door onto the beach. Mike leaned back and sighed. He hadn't told Davy the worst part. The police are suspecting him of murder.

~*~

Daphne brought out the tiny tub of water and grinned at the image in her sphere. So Davy was thinking about taking a walk, was he? That was just perfect. She took the miniature doll of the Englishman and casually dropped it into the tub. Every time the doll floated to the surface, she took hold of its leg and dragged it back down until the fabric had absorbed enough water to keep it at the bottom of the tub.

"Ah, the last one gone," she sighed to herself. "Now all I have to do is wait for the mother hen-"

~*~

Mike's head snapped up as he heard a scream of terror. Practically flying to the window, he saw an unnatural twenty-foot wave crash down on Davy and drag him into the ocean. He raced outside and jumped in, determined to save at least one of his friends.

Davy spluttered and splashed around in blind panic. Something registered in his mind that he must be caught in the undertow. Every time he made it to the surface, something dragged him down further and further. In a distance, he could see Mike jumping in and swimming for him, but he knew that it was too late. He was as good as gone.

Mike pumped his arms furiously, pushing himself to where he had last seen Davy go down. Diving deep underwater, he could vaguely make out the figure of his tiny friend, peacefully floating to the ocean floor. Mike swan down further and hooked his arm around Davy's chest and dragged him to shore.

"Come on, Davy man," he gasped. "I don't want to lose you too-" He performed CPR on the Britain, but it was of no avail. Davy's stomach and chest were bloated from consuming so much water and his eyes were closed as if in a deep sleep.

Mike stood up, crying his fury that he hadn't done something sooner. He'd get revenge on that little witch. He was determined. After carrying Davy back to the pad and calling the ambulance again, he left a note explaining what had happened and took off to find Daphne.

After a 20-minute drive, Mike pulled up to an old house that looked like it was about to fall apart any second. He ignored the fear knawing at his heart and boldly knocked on the front door.

The door creaked open and he jumped back in surprise. The place hasn't changed since he'd seen it last. There was a long, dark corridor straight in front of him with pictures of hawk-eyed old men and ladies glaring out at him. He tossed any morbid thoughts aside and headed straight for Daphne's bedroom, where he knew she kept most of her occult devices. Throwing open the door, he found himself face to face with the witch and stared for a moment in surprise.

"Why Mike," she purred. "What took you so long to get here? Did you get lost along the way?" She reached out and traced a long, sharp nail down Mike's neck.

Mike involuntarily shivered and grabbed her hand. "You killed my friends!"

The girl just squealed in glee. "So what if I did? They just paid for your error. Go on. Do what you have to."

Mike growled in anger and slapped her across the cheek, sending her tumbling to the floor. He then picked her up by her hair and smashed her head into the wall.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" she smiled. "Do it again, Mr. Macho Man-"

He punched her in the nose, then immediately realized this was what she wanted all along. He froze in horror and started hyperventilating. Dropping her fragile body, he began backing up, right into the arms of waiting policemen.

"Wha?!" Mike sputtered as an officer handcuffed him and led him out.

"Oh Mike-" Daphne moaned in pain, giving a killer performance to the authorities. "I'm sorry, dear. I had to call the police and tell them you killed your friends and were going to kill me. But don't worry. They'll send you to a nice mental hospital to work out your anger and frustrations."

Mike gaped at her helplessly as the police led him out of her house and into the squad car.

~*~

Mike huddled in his straight jacket, listening to the cries of pain and anguish that surrounded him. Mumbling some nonsense to himself, he darted his eyes about warily, knowing she would come sooner or later.

Daphne appeared in his cell, a transparent glowing figure. "Well, well, Michael," she grinned. "How are you liking it here? It's not nearly as bad as the place I was sent to, but it'll do."

"How- how- how-?" Mike groaned.

"You mean how did I get in here? Astral projection," she grinned. "But enough of that. I just wanted to make sure you were nice and cozy in your new home before starting my new life." She bent down and kissed his sweaty forehead. "Auf wiedersehen!" She waved and vanished.

But Mike didn't even notice it. He eyes became glassy and unfocused and he started to drool. "Tomorrow's gonna be another day-" he quietly muttered to himself over and over.