Abraham's heels clicked along New York's concrete sidewalks as he moved along towards the building's door. His breaths were even-as usual-but they were filled with a quiet apprehension. The sun was quickly making its descent, casting a warm glow across the sky. Soon, Abraham knew, vampires are going to be out.

Behind the doors were a multitude of people-at least mostly human-all lined up. Some of them were old-probably older than some of the Society elders-while others were only teenagers. The amount of people-most likely people-made Abraham only dread this more. He much rather it be a quiet, almost-unnoticed event. Abraham never much liked being in crowds, and his hatred of being in crowds only strengthened when he was accepted as a Slayer. Vampires often like to hunt in crowds like this.

For a second, Abraham almost wished he was fighting some vampire. Almost.

Abraham lifted his eyes to meet the people's faces, scrutinizing every detail. Lots of the people were tan-something Abraham was very happy about. There was a tan girl with red hair right in front of him who was obviously not a vampire, a tall, tan man with blond hair stepped behind him-again, obviously not a vampire-and a couple of others. Then, Abraham looked closer towards the front. It looked like a whole Hispanic family was there-probably not vampires considering that it was highly unlikely for a whole family to be turned into vampires. Plus, the elderly people a little ahead of him were also likely not vampires-considering that vampires never age and that Abraham never saw a vampire look over just above middle age.

Abraham sighed inwardly. Maybe, just maybe, they were all humans.

He looked to the setting sun. Maybe it was just for now.

"Ah, it seems to me like I have just lost my pen."

Abraham didn't spin around, although he wanted to, but calmly turned his head.

The man smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. "It seems to me that I have just lost my pen, a pen I wanted Mrs. Donatello to sign my book with. It's red with a blue cap. Have you seen it?"

Abraham regarded the man's face and his voice. It seemed familiar, somehow. But… it didn't. He never saw this man in his life. And besides, he was only asking for his pen. Wait, that wasn't his thought, was it? No… no, it was. Abraham shook his head.

The man also shook his head, the faint smile still playing on his lips. "It seems to me that I have such a terrible time losing pens. It's a shame, really. My pen was something very-"

"This doesn't have anything to do with pens." Abraham frowned. He did not like this strange man, and he did not like this strange conversation.

The tan man's eyes widened in mock surprise, but in it lay humor. "You are very perceptive. Actually, there is something that I need. Other than my pen, that is." The tan man took out a small gold coin from his pants pocket and showed it to Abraham.

Abraham bit his lip. Slayers, while his allies, often had a habit of making his life…more complicated. What did this mean? A Slayer, who probably came directly from the Slayer headquarters from London, was here, talking to him often did not bring good news. Did this mean his nephew was doing such a horrible job in New York that the Society deemed it best to just get rid of Joss? Or did something catastrophic happen? Then again-his heart clenched-the man might just be looking on him, seeing whether or not he was doing what he needed to do-look for the vampire serial killers-and seeing him at a book store. No, no that couldn't be it. Abraham raised one eyebrow. "Really? And what would that be?"

The man shook his head. "Actually, this involves Joss'-your nephew's-stake."

"Oh?" Abraham's mouth ticked.

"It was I who gave him that stake. Though, yes, Joss was an exception-most Slayers are only given a stake after they have their first solo kill," the man shook his head and laughed, "the Slayer Society was more than willing to make an exception for Joss, considering his interesting Purification."

The red-haired woman in front of Abraham walked forward, and Abraham was tempted to do so. He looked towards the Slayer, and the Slayer nodded at him to move forward. But Abraham didn't want to turn his head away from the man, even though that man was a Slayer. So, he nodded for the man to walk with him side-to-side.

Luckily, the man knew what to do, smiled, and walked besides him.

As the two men approached the door, a large burly man, Abraham guessed to be human, stood. "Passes?"

Abraham took his wallet out of his pants pocket, fumbled with his wallet for a few seconds, and frowned. He could have sworn (sworn!) that his pass was right in his wallet. He looked towards the strange man, his heart heavy. What would the Society think of him? He, Abraham, forgetting something as simple as a pass? Was he losing it? Abraham frowned. "It seems like I have for-"

"Allow me." The man smiled, turning his head to the burly guard. "It seems like my friend forgot his pass. However, if I may invite him-"

"And you are?"

The man smiled, creasing his blue eyes. "Dorian."

"Dorian?" The burly man seemed startled. "Well, of course! I-I am sorry. I didn't recognize you. I should have. And, and who is the man with you? I wasn't aware he was in your inner circle."

"I am Abraham, Abraham McMillan." Abraham said, nodding as if he knew who Dorian was. Which was strange, considering that the only thing he knew about this man was his name and that he was a Slayer. And,Abraham's thoughts seized, he very well may not be a Slayer. Then again, if he was something else-a human, a vampire-why would he know of him, and why would he be so kind to him? Also, there was something about that name which seemed…familiar to him, but Abraham didn't know why.

The burly man smiled and opened the door. "Good evening to you, gentlemen."

The two men stepped inside the building, and Abraham raised his eyebrow at the stranger. "If you say is true, which I admit is highly unlikely, the Society would have contacted me."

The man, as if expecting this question, nodded and showed Abraham to an empty table. "Yes, yes, it is unfortunate that the Slayer Society forgot to mention that, however," Dorian peered over his shoulder, "there seems to have been new news-"

"About the…the Pravus?" Abraham surmised.

"Ah, about…the…Pravus. Yes," Dorian shifted his head to look at someone, or something. "So, I have been dispatched from the Society to personally tell you that the stake Joss has is indeed Joss'."

Abraham frowned. It didn't make sense. The Society sent letters, not people. Plus, this man, or it?, was acting strangely. Abraham searched his mind, feeling any unwanted intruders in there…he did. And he bet his stake that it was D-it, that it was the it right in front of him. Abraham slanted his eyes and bit on his tongue until he felt it throbbing. Now he could see clearly. The man was tan, yes, but the man-or the it-right in front of him moved very gracefully. Looking at him, Abraham could see the similarities between the thing and a cat. Yes, the thing that called itself Dorian was definitely a vampire.

Dorian nodded, as if it were obvious, and stood up. He knew that he was found out. "Stay." He whispered silently.

Abraham tried to move his muscles: his arms, his legs, fingers, toes, anything. But he couldn't do anything but watch the vampire walk calmly out of the building. After about five minutes, Abraham flexed his muscles yet again, and found that he could move.

Abraham stood up and turned towards the doors, but he stopped. In any other situation, he would have gone to that vampire and slay it, but… Abraham looked towards his right and saw a stack of Mrs. Donatello's new books. Here they were, so close that Abraham could almost see each individual word. And the last book from Mrs. Donatello was so entertaining. And there were only a few books left…

Abraham looked to his left and he looked to his right and saw a black-haired tall man to his left looking hungrily at the book pile.

No.

Abraham pulled his right hand out towards a book, using his ultra-fast Slayer reflexes. He tore open the front page and read. He smiled. It. Was. So. Good. He had to get this book. If he didn't get this book now, he would go mad. His Slayer work would be disrupted, meaning that the success of this mission would be destroyed, meaning his nephew would be killed. He couldn't have that going through his head just because he didn't get this book, did it? No. He'll get the book.

With a hint of a smile on his face, something very unusual with him, Abraham moved up towards the counter, book in hand.