She hated this…she hated this…she hated this.

Aspen was now, in the back of a truck, with regular, steel chains binding her to the wall as she huffed impatiently. There were two guards, one of them the werewolf who had taken her captive when he had been taking her to the Council. Where she was sentenced…and now being taken to the Circle Daybreak headquarters!

'I'm going to kill you,' she thought viciously as she seethed, 'I'm going to kill all of you.'

Her eyes were an opaque color: a shiny black. The shininess was only because of the always-present silver tint in her eyes. Otherwise, her eyes would be completely black. As they shifted to a bloody red, she felt the van start slowing a bit.

A low hiss escaped her teeth and the werewolf from before snarled, and put a wooden knife at her throat. Her eyes narrowed and she remained quiet.

He relaxed and took the knife away from her throat. A sigh came from her as she leaned her head back against the interior walls of the van. She closed her eyes, and then pulled her head forward to hit it against the wall again. Aspen didn't know what had gone wrong for her; she hadn't meant to say what the only thing that could ever frighten her was. She didn't think or rather hadn't thought that it would've been able to be done. But, then again, Circle Daybreak would help any vampire reform. It's just a chance for them to attempt to brainwash her, turn her 'good.

She thought she was good as she was right now. It was perfectly fine; she was the role model Night Person. She hated vermin; she was power hungry; she didn't really have any cares for anyone but herself. And yet, she didn't see what was wrong with any of that. Her father had taught her all of that…

'"Child, if you ever plan on succeeding in this life, as a Redfern vampire in the Nightworld, there are a few things that you will need to know. And if you follow anything different, you are considered a traitor." Her father said, his ever-changing eyes looking into 4-year-old Aspen's intensely. The young girl nodded, her eyes filled with interest as she looked at her father with her changing eyes. They were a light blue and turned to a rich violet. "Yes daddy." She said, her voice sounding sweet.

Yet, her father did not know that soon, his advice would turn his supposedly innocent daughter into a demon; a monster. To never care for anyone but herself and later one being other than her…

"The very first thing that you need to know is that you hate mortals; they are worth nothing and can do nothing more than be a good meal. Killing them is a priority, and something that I'd have to say that you will always enjoy." He said, his voice light yet commanding.

The little, blond haired child nodded quickly, and was anxious to hear more.

"The second thing you need to know, dear little Aspen, is that no one can push you around. You are a Redfern; you are practically royalty. And never let anyone or anything tell you different, child." Her father said softly, and she smiled.

"Never, daddy. I guarantee it. Redferns are the best and the highest you could ever be. I know that much; no one can ever be better." She said, giggling a bit to herself. She believed that, and she honestly didn't see anything different. Little Aspen didn't want to know anything different than that. It was the most important and basic thing in her life. She would never let anyone bring her down.

Her father patted her head, almost as if she was a complying animal. A pet.

She was more than happy to be so if she were to earn this affection from her father.

He concentrated on her gaze, his evergreen eyes looking into hers with fury burning underneath the triumph in his gaze. "Now, do you want to know the very last thing that is vital to your survival?" He said, his voice almost a croon. She nodded enthusiastically, and her eyes turned from the turquoise that they had been of the second to a sunflower yellow. They glinted with silver, and when she blinked the silver became more illuminated at this onslaught of information from her father.

"You are the highest power there is; you are the purest of all. You control everyone, and they cannot belittle you. Do you understand that, sweetheart?" He said, a smile growing on his lips.

"What else am I to understand other than that, daddy?"'

"C'mon girly, let's go."

The voice of the werewolf dragged her away from what was the closest thing to a happy memory that she had. Almost like a puppet, she let the werewolf come close to her and take the chains off of her wrists. Then, as soon as the chains were off, she felt vine cords being wrapped around her wrists tightly, cutting into her skin. She clenched her teeth; not opening her still closed eyes, and just let the wolf lead her out of the van and into the dim daylight.

It was somewhere around 7 o'clock in the evening, with faint light still shining in the direction of the sun that had yet to set completely behind the horizon. It was cloudy, which was a detail Aspen hadn't realized until now. It comforted her in the slightest, and then she realized what situation she was in and that took away any sense of comfort or serenity that had been in her. The cords around her wrist were irritating her skin, and she honestly didn't care anymore.

She was going to Circle Daybreak against her will, to be reformed. Nothing mattered. She'd rather kill herself right now.

If only she could get that knife from the wolf…

"Is this the person who we're taking in?" A voice came, reluctant, and it sounded way too familiar for Aspen to be comfortable with it. Her eyes opened, the color of lavender, and she saw the all too familiar form of John Quinn. She hated him and craved having the wooden knife in her hands so she could kill him…and then herself.

Before the werewolves were able to speak to him, she spoke. "Obviously. Who else would be tied up by cords, Quinn?" She said, her voice harsh and mocking as she looked at him pointedly.

He looked at her, his eyes dark as they always would be, and narrowed his eyes. Then, he shook his head as he sighed heavily. It was a reluctant, tired sigh. "You know, Aspen. I'm not surprised that you ended up like this. Actually, I was expecting it sooner. But why would they give you over to Circle Daybreak instead of killing you?" He said, his tone sounding puzzled and she huffed. "Because, they intend to put fear in me. Or fear of some sort. Of course, you know how difficult that it, don't you?" She snarled, and for a moment she sensed an almost non-existent bit of fear from Quinn's mind but it easily dissipated.

"Of course, Aspen." He muttered, a touch of sarcasm in his voice, and she hissed ferally.

"Okay then." One of Aspen's captors said loudly, breaking up the tense moment.

"Anyways, you know where you're taking her, right?" The other said gruffly, and Aspen zoned out as she just stared at the ground. It was a blur up until the werewolves handed her off to Quinn. A growl built up in her chest but she restrained it. It wouldn't do anything; or at least not anymore. She was sure that nothing would detour her trip to hell.

She would fight when she got there, though. She knew that. Wherever the headquarters was – she didn't feel like pondering at the moment – she knew that it must be in a major city. So, it should be easy for her to 'get lost' in those parts. The only problem was that she had to think of a place that she could go when she got out of the place.

Her older sister's? But she wasn't sure that Jessamine would house her for long; she wasn't very fond of Aspen. It was no surprise, but she still had a feeling that she could possibly rely on her sister. Her sister did owe her for when Aspen had helped her save her soulmate. A human; but since then she hadn't found the time to go and see how her sister was doing. Of course, Aspen wasn't too fond of the human and would rather kill him, but Jessamine was her sister…and there wasn't any other choice but to support her with her decisions.

Even if they were disgusting.

As Quinn guided her to the car he had driven – a van quite similar to the one she had arrived in – she heard the sound of the other van backing out and it's tires squealing as the wolves sped away from where they had left their prisoner.

'Such good guards,' She thought distastefully as she was guided into the back of the van. She was sitting, and quickly scooted to the closest wall as she observed her surroundings. There was a vent that was bolted into securely and she could see the headrests of the two front seats of the van. It was cheap fabric, but sturdy enough to last a while. She knew that much. And, apparently she wouldn't be able to get her hands on Quinn to strangle him or take control of the car. But, if she managed to open the back doors of the van when they were moving, there was a possibility she could escape. But even Aspen doubted that she'd make it out of this one. There really wasn't any way she could escape. It was a sickening, depressing feeling. She felt no reason to really try anymore; to try anything at all, really. She knew she wouldn't succeed.

But that didn't mean that she couldn't stop planning.

'What do I have to plan, though? My escape? As if. They won't let me out of their sight.' She thought, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the metal wall. Aspen sighed, and turned her head away from the vent, where she could see Quinn starting up the car.

The hum of the motor somehow made this situation even worse than it was already. But it left her to possibly gain some sleep; something that she hadn't experienced for 3 days. Too many things to do, was her excuse. Though, the truth was that she didn't want to be left to her nightmares as it had always been.

Her mother being killed right in front of her...

It wasn't very pleasant seeing that terrible, agonizing memory over and over. It made her feel even worse than she always did.

A deep breath was what she took, and another after that. This van almost made her feel claustrophobic. She only had about half her sense and consciousness left, and it was wasting away as she merely sat in the back of the metal van. It was sickening in her mind, and it made her want to curl up and die.

But, considering she had a sick sense of humor, a small laugh came from her as she progressed on to imagine sick, terrible ways of dying in her mind. It was amusing to imagine things, especially when she had seen most ways with her own eyes. Having inflicted the torture upon mortals, of course. The same principles still applied; she just needed to replace the knives that were made of metal with knives and other little torture toys with wood. Simple as that. But, there were no guarantees that she'd be able to inflict the pain upon herself. It might be difficult.

Who knows; she might give it a go for the sake of her curiosity.

"What're you snickering about?" Quinn asked, slightly irritable, and she shook her head with her eyes closed. A smile appeared - grim, but still a smile - on her lips. An almost breathless laugh came from her but she quickly silenced it. "Nothing, Quinn. Nothing at all." She said, slight sarcasm in her voice as she yawned boredly. Annoying the hell out of Quinn might pass the time, but she didn't know if it was pushing her luck. But, she can't really judge on whether or not she'd be able to push her luck; she didn't know if she had anything to push. You can't lose what you don't have. Though, if she mattered at all to Quinn - which she was sure she did, since he hated her so much - she might be able to possibly push him over the edge. It was an oddly interesting thought, but she found herself compelled to go to sleep.

That didn't mean she wanted to go to sleep. If she's held it off this long - 3 days - then she was pretty sure that she could hold off the exhaustion for a little longer. It really wouldn't make much of a difference.

But...she wanted...she needed...she needed to sleep.

Her thoughts when incoherent as she drifted into a cold - unnaturally cold - darkness.

Hugh

He sat down in one of the various couches. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes to relax.

'More vampire killings...more tiring than I can remember.' He thought, and yawned vaguely. There was weight that sat down next to him, about a yard or so away from him. It was easy to recognize who it was when the person sighed, and he felt them shift to turn to him. "Hard day, isn't it?" Jez's voice came, and he shrugged a bit before yawning again. "It seems to get harder every time." Hugh said, his voice quiet. A small, grim laugh sounded from his friend and he opened his eyes.

"Not really, Hugh. It's either they die or you do, and I think we both know which side needs to win this war, don't you?" She said, and he frowned. "Ya Jez; I know. I think everyone does. Even regular humans can probably tell that at least something is wrong. But they just don't know exactly what it is. It's just...killing others, even though they aren't in the best state of mind, but just thinking of the possibilities of turning them around..." Hugh said quietly, his voice sounding his exhaustion. He heard Jez huff, a little bit annoyed, but she seemed to brush it off. He felt a bit of relief at that, but just yawned again. "You have a point but I think we might be able to talk later. You look really tired...was it really that bad today?" She said, and he heard the hint of concern in her voice. He shrugged, and opened his eyes to look at her. "Seems like it." He said, and frowned deeply. Now, it wasn't that he had a lot of issues with killing Night People, but there really was the thought that someone could possibly help them...turn them around, shine the light in their eyes.

A chuckle came from his lips and Jez raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, I'm just so tired I'm laughing at something stupid." He said, smiling a little. "Like?" She asked, and there was now curiosity replacing the concern in her tone. He chuckled softly again and rolled his eyes. "Thinking about possibly shining the light in their eyes. When really, if we tried to do that in reality, they would be really angry." He said, and she rolled her eyes.

Patting his shoulder lightly, Jez rose. "Just try to nap, Hugh. We have a prisoner from the Nightworld - the Council made a deal with us - and we'll really be needing to be on our guard. If the Council was having enough issues to pass the delinquent off to us without arresting or ambushing any of us in the act, then we must have a problem here." She said, and he nodded slightly. As he closed his eyes again, Hugh just let his mind drift until the sensation of losing consciousness - that he never had gotten annoyed with; how or why would he? - overcame him.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but he was sure that it had been at least 4 hours or something when he awoke to Jez shaking his shoulder.

It was darker outside, and he looked around at the seemingly bright lights in the grandly decorated living room of Lord Thierry, and his gray eyes rested on a grandfather clock in the far-off corner. It read...11:11. So, it obviously wasn't too late, or at least as late as he thought it would be. He could survive, not that it really mattered to him.

As long as the prisoner - using Jez's term for the person - got in safely and they didn't have any problems, Hugh would be happy and content. The people around him he cared about, so as long as they were alright, he would be as well.

He finally arose, and Jez immediately took off toward the front door of the large house without a word to him. He didn't find it offensive or rude; it was procedure. They needed to get as many people on the person to make sure that there weren't any casualties in the short time of moving the person. 'Jez would probably be a bit mad that I considered the 'prisoner' a person,' He thought vaguely, but nevertheless continued after Jez to the door. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Morgead and Ash start for the door as well, and that was when Hugh was through the threshold into the cold night air.

The moonlight illuminated everything.

He saw the others at the van, but there seemed to be some confusion. Rashel was there, and she seemed stricken and Quinn was just a little bit annoyed. Jez was in the back of the van - he saw her vaguely - and then there was Maggie who was crouching nearby Jez in the back of the van, looking down at something.

'Or someone,' a distant voice in the back of his head noted and he continued on toward the van.

That was when he was able to hear the tones of everyone speaking of the same, tense conversation that they all seemed to be stressed about.

"...sometime along the way. I'm pretty sure that it was pretty soon after I got her from the guards, but I'm not sure. And now she just won't wake up." Quinn was explaining, and someone groaned impatiently. "What have you tried?" The person asked, and he realized that it was Maggie, who was now peeking out of the back of the van impatiently. He saw Quinn shrug, and then grimace. "A lot, but nothing will wake her up. The one thing I haven't tried is blood. It's dangerous; I know her and if she is somehow faking this, you might as well be dead if you give her blood." Quinn said, his voice a little bit annoyed but reserved.

A quiet voice came from the van.

"Quinn...she isn't faking this."

It was Gillian Lennox.

It was a surprise to hear her, but at the same time it wasn't. Gillian was a witch, of course she would be there if there was any chance of having disaster. Or the possibility that there was someone injured or ill in some way. She's probably been trying to awaken the prisoner, who Hugh had yet to see, with her magic. That wasn't something that he could see with his own eyes - at the moment - but it was just something automatic to assume. By now, he was standing close to the back of the van where it was opened, but something was tempting him to move closer and see who the person was.

Hugh was curious, but he wasn't that curious.

But there was still that feeling...that there was some longing for peeking in the back of the van at the person.

"How do you know?" Quinn asked, exasperated and a small sigh came from inside the van. It was patient, and somewhat sad. He concentrated on the words, feeling that they were important, as Gillian started speaking once more. This time, she was speaking to all of them.

"Because, this isn't just sleep or being merely unconscious. There's something wrong with her; some shield in her mind that...it's reflecting everything I try to do. It's like a defense mechanism, and I don't think she'll be waking up anytime soon. Not even blood would wake her up, I bet. But, I'd rather not risk it. Anyways, I really think that we should move her inside right now. The sooner she wakes up, the more at ease I'll be. Now, can someone help me with her...?" Gillian's voice trailed off and Morgead and David stepped forward as Jez started lifting the person up.

All Hugh was able to see was blond hair that was darkened by the lack of light.

Soon, they were lifting the person up and out of the van.

It was a girl - at the age of 17 or 18, was his guess - and she had blond hair that was long, and it was so wavy it was almost curly. Her features were pallid, even more pale in the moonlight, and the features she bared were soft, and gentle. Innocent looking in this supposedly 'dangerous' case of slumber or unconsciousness. As she was carried, he noticed that there was bast tied around her wrists tightly. He almost winced when he imagined how it would be for her when they took those off; if the did. The bast cords were really close-fitted to the skin on her wrists, and he was more than just sure that the skin there was now raw.

Hugh sighed, and followed the group. There were 4 people carrying her, with Gillian hovering anxiously.

Weird; but not really.

When they got back inside, it was noticeably warmer and that seemed make everyone a little less tense. Except for one person; practically the most unlikely person to really react about this kind of thing.

Ash gulped as everyone put the girl on the couch and shook his head. One word left his lips in a whisper, and it was close to the saddest Hugh had ever heard anyone sound to his ears. And that was saying something since he's had a quite a few lives, and a lot of sadness had been in each.

"Aspen."