Serena Mason only caught a glimpse of long blonde hair before the lead pipe was shoved through her eye socket and into her brain. She was dead long before her body was thrown through the glass roof of the Horton Square.

After her corpse crashed to the ground, surrounded by shards of what was once the dome that held the elements at bay, the only thing that could be heard was the screaming of Melanie Jonas.

Days

"It looks like she fell through the roof," Hope Brady told one of the beat cops on the scene. She snapped on her gloves and examined the body. "It's possible that this pipe lodged in her skull was the murder weapon."

The area had been cordoned off, but Daniel Jonas, father to the witness who had IDed the victim, was on the scene lecturing the police about how inefficient they were at their jobs. Hope ignored him. It would take every ounce of brain power she had to determine just how this promising young reporter had died. Her detective's intuition told her that the killer likely knew the victim.

"Jenkins, I need you to track down Nicole Walker and drag her to the station. Let me know when she's in custody. And get a man on Theresa Donovan. She may answer to Jeannie if she's suspicious. If this was a murder, then it's likely one of them committed the crime."

"Yes, Ma'am," the officer said with a nod. As he departed, Hope saw that something was clutched in Serena's hand. She pried the fingers open and found a crumpled wad of paper. As she smoothed it out, she saw that it was a picture: a photograph that had likely been printed off a computer, but it was in black and white.

It was her nephew, Eric Brady. Why would Serena have a picture of Eric in her possession the moment she died?

Days

"You can't keep me here! People will be looking for me!" Eric Brady yelled at his captor, his bare chest heaving and unshed tears stinging his eyes. "My aunt is a detective. My dad is the chief of police! I think. I'm not sure these days. But there will be people looking for me."

"Oh, I know all about that. I'm making plans to deal with that nuisance, Father," the shadowy figure said, a voice so low and inhuman than it sent chills through his spine. "There was a woman who had noticed that you were missing. She's serving the greater good now, all puns intended."

A chuckle rang through the room that sent fearful tears cascading down Eric's cheeks. Why did this person have him? What did they want with him?

"I'm not a priest anymore. You took the time to kidnap me and remove my shirt while I was unconscious, but you didn't know that?" Eric strained against his bindings, but it was no use. They were strong; they were too strong for him to break and too tight for him to escape. His legs were chained as well as his arms, but he was at least given enough room to stand or sit as he pleased.

"I know that you left the Church. I'll have to thank that dear sweet Nicole for that when I see her next." The figure laughed again. "Whether she realizes it or not, she's been my agent in Salem these last few years. She is the one who cleared my path back to this town after twenty years away. You were my initial target, the son of my former vassal, but your faith was too strong even after your downfall. I couldn't get in. But there was another, a guilt-ridden thing that gave me all the access I could want."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?! What do you have to do with Nicole?"

The figure stepped out of the shadows and Eric gasped. The paisley shirt and striped vest gave it away more than the face: Eric's own nephew Will Horton stared into his eyes. Those inhuman, frightening eyes. Long blond hair, styled exactly like Eric's mothers, fell around Will's face and shoulders.

When he was about ten feet away from Eric, Will settled on his knees and lowered his head. He clasped his hands as if in prayer.

"Why Will? Why would you do this to me?"

"This may be Will's face and body, but he isn't the one in control. My name is unpronounceable by the human tongue. But there are things that this tongue can do and has done. I intend to see just what those things will do to one such as you."

Eric found himself unable to speak as Will raised his head and looked once more into his eyes. Lowering his hands to the floor, Will raised his hind quarters into the air, slowly crawling in the direction of his uncle. It was futile but Eric still fought against his restraints as he sobbed.

"Now, now, isn't this what you men of the cloth want? An innocent boy submitting himself to a higher power? I have his soul, sure, but he wants your body. He always did, the wicked little thing. He knew you were his blood and he did not care."

"Will, stop this. I don't know what you think you're doing, but this isn't funny," Eric gasped just before his nephew reached him. But Will didn't stop.

"You mentioned that I had removed your shirt. I did because he's here and he wanted it. I never considered this until I saw his thoughts. I was still going to desecrate you, but my method was far more... pedestrian than his."

Stopping and reaching up, Will ran his fingertips through the hair on Eric's chest. He slowly climbed his uncle's torso until they were face to face. Eric could no longer deny it: this was not his nephew.

"Sins of the flesh are the best kind," the thing that was not Will purred. It leaned into him, pressing Will's clothed chest to Eric's naked one, and tangled one of his hands into Eric's hair. The tears that Eric freely shed disappeared as the thing licked them away.

"Please." Eric begged as the thing caressed his chest with Will's free hand. "Don't do this to me. Don't do this to him."

"I can hear his thoughts, Father," Not Will whispered into Eric's ear before licking it. It sent tingles of wrongness and excitement through Eric's body, but the hand that wasn't in his hair had slid down to his belt. "He wants this. He hates himself for it, but he wants it. And this hand that is it? It can feel that you want it, too."

Will's fingers slid between Eric's jeans and his boxers. A thin strip of cloth was all that separated them, but Eric found himself sliding into the touch despite his brain screaming at him to pull away.

"Just a taste. That's all you get for now, but I will be back." Not Will told Eric before it kissed him. It was deep and strong and Eric melted into it even though every fibre of his being wanted nothing more than to scream.

Then Will was gone and all that remained of their encounter was the wig in Eric's lap and the hard on in his jeans.

Days

"Serena's dead?" Brady reached out to hold Melanie's hand. "I didn't know her long, but she was so radiant and beautiful and intelligent. Why would anyone want to harm her?"

"I don't know!" Melanie whined into her coffee. "Serena was such a good person. The only way anyone could hate her was if they were jealous."

They sat like that for awhile, Brady holding Melanie's hand and she sobbed and cried and occasionally burned her tongue on her drink. He didn't know what to say to her. If he had a target, something or someone he could yell at, it would be different. But all he had was silence.

Days

"Theresa, could you be more professional? A colleague of ours just died," Daniel growled at her as she picked her doughnut "Don't you care?"

"I really don't," Theresa admitted with a shrug. "I'm more upset that the cafeteria was sold out of the lemon-filled donuts. Raspberry is such a letdown by comparison."

"You didn't see it. Serena was... Whoever did this really hated her."

"Unless you're gonna tell me who it was so that I can give them half a raspberry doughnut as thanks, I suggest you take this elsewhere. I have neither the time nor the inclination to give a fuck." Theresa raised her doughnut in Daniel's direction as a makeshift toast, then bit down into it. She really wished it were lemon-filled.

"You really are a hateful person, aren't?" Daniel accused, grabbing Theresa's wrist before she could take another bite of her doughnut "What did Serena ever do to you?"

"She didn't touch me without permission," Theresa snarled. She snatched one of the plastic spoons next to the coffee machine and stabbed Daniel in the chest. It snapped and he released her out of shock. "Touch me again and it will be real, and it won't be a spoon."

Then she looked at her doughnut, decided she was done, and threw it in his face.

"Excuse me, are you Theresa Donovan?" A police officer walked up to her and Daniel before she could leave. Daniel suddenly got even more smug than before and she wanted to smack the look off of his face. However, since there was a cop in the area, she didn't want to risk assault charged.

"That's me," she said with an insincere smile. "What can I do for you, Officer?"

"We need you down at the station for questioning. It's about a Ms. Serena Mason."

Daniel's smirk grew even wider and Theresa began to think that assault charges would be worth it.