Chapter One: Guys' Night In, Part I

A knock on glass. Sean woke up to what looked like glitter on his window shield. The blue-tinted fluorescent street lamp outside brought leftover raindrops to life.

Another knock on glass. Sean looked over to see a man donning dark aviators and gruffly sporting a soul patch over a goatee. A walking burden but a useful companion.

Sean lowered the side window.

"Sebastian?" Sean began to inquire.

"Yooo," Sebastian heaved out, throwing up what looked like gang signs.

"Never mind," Sean pinched the bridge of his nose. "You already answered my question."

"What?" Sebastian asked. His drunken obliviousness was fuming. Sean already felt ill from it.

"Just get in the car, Sebastian," said Sean as he rolled up the window.

Sebastian fumbled himself into the car. He sat awkwardly in the passenger seat, leaned back into the headrest, and sighed with drunken content. He scratched his stubble and adjusted his leather jacket. Then the snoring ensued.

Sean felt his eye twitch cartoonishly at the sight of Sebastian. His hand gripped the steering wheel while the other grabbed his own face, practically clawing into it. Then he pounded his fist repeatedly on the car horn.

"Woah, woah!" Sebastian flailed awake, whipping out his revolver. "What's going on?!"

"You forgot to close the fucking door, you blithering lunk!" Sean yelled.

Sebastian gave Sean a puzzled look, still brandishing his weapon. He looked to his side and saw that the door was indeed open.

"Oh fuck," Sebastian slurred as he holstered the revolver. "The door's open."

"Yeah," Sean dug his face into his palms. "I just kind of asked you to close it."

"Well that wasn't really asking," Sebastian continued to slur as he reached for the door. "That was more like yelling."

He brought the door inward ever so gently. Maybe too gently. The door bounced off and it spread back out to where it was before. Sebastian reached for the door again, pulled it too gently again, and it bounced off…again.

"IF ANYTHING," Sean resumed his yelling. "HOW ABOUT YOU USE BOTH HANDS?!"

Sebastian held up his index finger as if something revolutionary had just been realized.

"That sounds like a good idea," he slurred.

"IT DOES, DOESN'T IT?" Sean felt like his eyes could shoot heat-rays at the drunken mess before him.

Sebastian reached with both hands and pulled the door too gently…again. Once the door bounced off, Sean stormed out of the car. He went to the passenger side and kicked the door in, prompting a muffled scream from Sebastian.

Sean plopped back into the driver's seat and slammed his own door.

"You're an asshole," Sebastian winced as he gripped his shoulder.

Sean turned on the ignition and buckled his seatbelt.

"Hold on," Sebastian grunted as he proceeded to buckle himself.

"You'll be just fine," Sean dryly uttered.

He then shifted the vehicle to drive and sped off. The car's momentum yanked Sebastian back against his seat. He spewed out curses of agony that tickled Sean with satisfaction.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" said Sean. "What happened to that healing factor of yours?"

"Alright!" Sebastian cried out. "I get it!"

"Time to sober up, fucker!" Sean cackled.

'Won't Get Fooled Again' by The Who played softly from Quentin's stereo. He sat comfortably in his living room reading a newspaper – a dying breed as far as reading apparatuses go. He didn't like reading on electronic devices. It was straining to the eyes. Yet he was surrounded by technology – a weapons engineer formerly contracted to a rapidly collapsing system of vampire covens. Although he himself was a vampire, Quentin wasn't frightened at the loss of income and favors. He had other, more interesting buyers. There were way more human wars than vampire and lycan wars anyway.

Reading an article about a docked ship exploding in Hungary gave him hope. The explosion wiping out most of what was on that ship let Quentin know exactly who occupied it: Alexander Corvinus - the watcher, the forefather of both vampires and lycans, 'Big Daddy Alex' (as Quentin liked to call him). Very few knew he was still alive. Quentin had the luxury of being one of those few. Now Big Daddy Alex was dead.

Then there was the bad news. The same article proceeded to talk about the man named Michael Corvin. Quentin's heart especially skipped at this when he read about him being with an "armed and dangerous woman". As long as there is such a thing as a Death Dealer, there will always be problems.

Quentin didn't even get to finish the article. He set the newspaper aside when he read that the Death Dealer and her hybrid boyfriend were still at large. The paper obviously didn't actually say "Death Dealer" or "hybrid boyfriend". But at least it was correct in referring to the two as "highly dangerous." This was worrying news that piled on worrying rumors. Word had gone out about the revival of Big Daddy Alex's twin sons, Markus and William – the first vampire and the first lycan.

Quentin hoped to keep his anxiety at bay, but it had already flushed through his body down to the bone. He needed blood wine. No, he needed water. Even vampires needed to watch their alcohol intake. Plus, the "moderate, drinkable levels" of alcohol in blood wine were technically damaging to Quentin's system. All creatures of the world need to stay hydrated. Vampires and lycans are no exception. Quentin downed a glass of water. It was quite refreshing and alleviated his anxiety. Then there was a buzz on the intercom and his anxiety returned.

Quentin knew who was buzzing but he questioned whether or not he wanted to speak to them. He walked up to the intercom and pressed to speak: "You're late."

"We know that," said a man on the other end. "Don't sound so annoyed. You're not the one who's partnered with a mess."

"Who was the one that decided to embark on their task with said mess?" Quentin shot back.

There was a sigh from the other end. "Could you at least let us in?"

"Okay," said Quentin. "But you do realize that I really don't want to?"

"And you do realize that you sound like a bitch?"

"My point exactly."

Quentin opened the door to a half mess accompanied by a complete mess. The half mess brushed away his silky black bangs and slapped on horrendously fake smile, revealing vampire teeth of his own. The complete mess seemed to be in another galaxy, staring into space with his lopsided dark aviators.

"Yeah," sighed Quentin.

"Jeez," said the half mess. "What a greeting."

"Fine," said Quentin. "Hello, Sean. Hello-…" Quentin just started at the complete mess who didn't even seem to know where he was. "Again?"

"I guess we're both delusional for thinking otherwise," said Sean.

"Sebastian?" Quentin called out to the complete mess who still seemed to linger in a far-off galaxy. "Sebastian."

"Don't even bother," said Sean. "He's a lost cause."

Quentin clawed his fingers through his hair. He wanted to tear off a handful of follicles but he kept his composure.

"This is the reason why I'd rather not have you guys actually in my home," he said.

"We do need a place to stay," said Sean.

"I know that. But do you remember the last time you two came over?"

"I do and nothing out of the ordinary happened."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"Absolutely," Sean widened his shit-eating grin.

"Managing to somehow vomit in five different places at once isn't out of the ordinary?" Quentin asked.

Sean snickered. "That wasn't my fault," he said. "It was…"

Sebastian started to waltz away. He didn't go unnoticed.

"Seb?" Sean called out.

There was no response – just Sebastian's fading footsteps.

"Hold on," said Sean. "I'll get him."

Sean departed. Quentin slumped his side against the frame of the doorway and peeked out. Quentin jumped a little when he heard a disturbing grunting noise. He stepped out and barely saw the duo in the darkness of the tunnel. There was another grunt but this time it was more familiar – inconveniently familiar.

"Quent?" Sean's voice called out. "Do you have a towel?"

"Oh fuck!" burst Quentin.