A/N: Forever thank you to the assassin's son for help with the dialogue. Everything the man says is valuable.


Allison always used to ask him about secrets.

She had this theory that every time a secret was formed, a star would be born, and if anyone ever told that secret that the star would die.

Of course she grew up and learned about the physics behind the formation of stars, but it was a romantic way of looking at things.

Always romantic, that one. Always had rose-tinted glasses to view the world with perched firmly on her proverbial nose. Even when danger surrounded her and more secrets than ever had been exposed, she remained stoic in the faith that all would be well in the end.

That incorrigible belief cost her her life.


Victoria was a little more difficult to handle.

There was no ease in being around someone who knew exactly where you were going and why you had to be there. She knew too much, had seen and heard too much about him.

Marriage was a strongly disillusioning experience for the both of them.


"Victoria, I love you, but there's some things you need to know about me."

"What do I need to know, sweetheart?"

"You've married into a family of hunters. I'm a hunter, my father is a hunter, we all are. Of course, I completely understand if you suddenly feel the need to leave, to escape. I don't judge you. It's still not too late to change your mind, darling, I respect your choices and you respect mine. But yes, we hunt the supernatural, and everything we do is to make sure that innocent lives don't come to an end, and that bad ones do."

"I'm not going to change my mind, no matter what you are. No matter who you are. I'm staying right here."

"As long as you know what you're getting into. Just... just know that what I do, I do for the greater good."

"Of course. I understand."


She never liked the Code. In her youth, Victoria was a free-thinking woman, prone to slam poetry and art-house films about the rites of passage and altruism and human brokenness. In marriage, a cold woman. A cynical woman. One who had lost hope in the organic goodness of humans and had decided to turn away from the deception that lays in sunshine and finish her life as soon as possible.

But her dedication to the Argents was greater than any preferences or dying dream of hers. She never made it across the country in a cheap minivan. She never saw her daughter graduate, get married, have grandchildren.

Victoria never wanted to see Allison again so soon. And when she did, it felt like her heart was collapsing in on itself, choking her with its wrath, with its pain. But it was okay. Because what Allison did, she did for the greater good.

And everyone forgave her for leaving them all behind.


Chris looks wistfully outside his hotel window in Paris a lot, Isaac teasing him about it consistently, calling him a soft-hearted old man. Teasing him about kicking the bucket, hoping the humour would help in the grieving process.

It doesn't.

After a while Isaac stops joking. He goes through the French girls like fire through ancient literature, all-consuming flames burning brightly. Burning everything in its path. Destroying and leaving room for yet another.

It is this cycle of entropy that eventually breaks him.

Isaac is twenty-one years old on the day Chris finds him hanging from a thick rope of wolfsbane. His glowing blue eyes are now dull, teeth still bared at the face of death, nose still wrinkled in a past expression of struggle.

Death had followed him everywhere, and it comes as no surprise to him when he cremates Isaac and spreads the ashes across the banks of the Seine. Each breath comes easy now, the inevitability of it all transforming his fear and hurt into acceptance and peace.


When Death comes for him as a lonely old man of eighty-three, it comes viciously, with all the weapons of Hell and beyond. It eats through his bones as cancer, inevitable in a whole other way, aggressive, burning. Burning like the death through his family.

Burning like the pages of his kill records, never to be found or believed again.

And the legend is forgotten.