Author's Note: Thank you to the, like… six people who read this so far, and special thanks to roxypony for reviewing(: Anyways, I put up a quote as my summary instead of the "I don't know jack shit" one that I had before. Not the best summary, but it's substantial, I suppose. So, uh, thanks for reading and as always, reviews are appreciated! (:

Michaela strode purposefully into the emergency room, ignoring the fact that her insides were screaming, threatening to destroy her. She caught Darren's bloodshot eyes and he stood to greet her. She lost her cool and ran full-force towards him, jumping into his arms and wrapping hers around his neck. He held her in the air and spun her around slowly until the momentum ceased. He leaned forward to set her down, but when he pulled back she tethered him to the ground. He kept hugging her for a moment until she pulled back and studied his face. "Do we know what happened yet?"

"No," he lied, ignoring his little sister's accusing glares. "He was in my room, and I guess… I guess something stung him because… when I came back in he was… he was…"

"Darren," Michaela said sharply. He forced his eyes to meet hers, wincing at the yelling that what to come but received a blow much worse when she said softly, "This isn't your fault. It could've happened to anyone. Got it?"

He felt the need to yell at her; tell her it was absolutely, one hundred percent his fault. He wanted her to know all about the Cirque Du Freak, all about how he heard Steve wanted to become a vampire, all about how he'd stolen the stupid spider that had bitten and probably killed Steve. It was all his fault. All of it. But instead of arguing with her, he managed a feeble, "Alright," and ignored how Annie turned her body away from him.

Michaela sighed, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his chest. He hated the fact that he'd hurt Steve, and by doing so, he'd hurt Michaela and Mrs. Leonard and Annie and everyone else. Worst of all, nobody knew it was his fault. If they knew, would they still be comforting me? Or would they be kicking my ass? Darren wondered as he clutched to his best friend. He honestly wasn't sure which one would make him feel worse.

He didn't even have time to wonder, because at that moment the nurse came out and said, "You can come see Mr. Leonard now…"


Steve barely refrained from letting out a small cry when Murlough's nails dug into the back of his head. He was no wimp, and far stronger than any human— but Murlough's sharpened nails hurt like a bitch. He could never get over that. He absolutely hated getting hit with the nails. He knew that it was a great offence, being as each of the ten nails on a vampaneze's hand was like a small dagger, but his pride refused to let him use his. He would rather use his fists. Scratching your enemies? Really? Steve was so above that.

"Is that really necessary?" Steve grumbled, putting his hand against the newest slice on the back of his head to stop the flow of blood. He was lucky that he had thick hair, or he'd wind up having bald patches.

"How else are you going to learn not to be an idiot if a genius like Murlough is not there to teach you, child?"

Steve rolled his eyes at his mentor's egotistical mindset. "There's a difference between teaching and scratching. You remind me of my fucking history teacher."

"I am your teacher now, child. And a suitable teacher; am I not? Learning from the best, you are, for the great Murlough is a genius. Very bright, I am! The brightest."

"There's also a difference between being bright and a retard," Steve muttered under his breath, but nothing escaped the ears of the vampaneze. Murlough had him pinned against the wall with his nails at Steve's throat, freshly filed into points. They were perfect for slicing, killing, stabbing, maiming... All of the ways Murlough could single-handedly kill him flashed through Steve's mind at that moment. Was Murlough really going to kill him so soon, before he'd even gotten his chance to rise to glory or kill Shan? Steve hissed in a pained breath as Murlough pressed against Steve's skin until there were little drops of blood underneath each of his fingers, then pulled his nails out of the puncture holes and licked them until the blood was polished off.

"You will respect the great Murlough," he ordered before disappearing around a corner.

Steve grimaced as he gently rubbed his hand against his bleeding neck. He was almost used to the constant pain and abuse— hell, he'd been getting beat up by adults his whole life—, but a hit from a mad vampaneze was about ten times worse than a hit from one of his many 'uncles', even with his blood only being half human. This guy's a raving lunatic…


"I'm thirsty," Darren decided as he, Michaela, and Steve all sat around a table at an amusement park.

"So go get a drink," Michaela advised.

"Does anybody want to come with me?" Darren asked as he began to stand.

"No," Steve responded dismissively. "Get us something, too."

"You're an-"

"-Ass?" Steve guessed. "Yeah, I've heard. Now, shoo."

Darren huffed as he turned to leave. Michaela watched Darren walk away to get the three of them drinks before turning to Steve to ask casually, "So, how's—"

Steve quickly cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. She thought about yanking away and smacking him, but to be honest, she'd been waiting for a second kiss ever since the first one last month. She kissed him back until Steve caught sight of Darren rounding the corner back to the table and pulled away from her, returning to his seat and nonchalantly taking a bite of a French fry. "That was quick," he commented when Darren set down two sodas.

"Well, there was no line and they only had two cups left so they felt bad and gave me the drinks for free… I'd ask what you've been up to, but I wasn't gone long enough for anything eventful to happen."

Steve nodded in mock agreement, making Michaela blush. "Mike and I will share the second drink," he decided, and scooted next to her. He ignored the way her face got even redder and offered her the cup. She leaned over and took a sip from the straw before murmuring, "Thanks…"

Darren watched them for a moment with a cocked eyebrow before asking, "Is there something I should know about…?"

"Nah," Michaela managed to say without her voice showing too much of her emotion.

"You don't think that my asking you out is something important enough to share with our best friend? Really, I'm hurt."

"You never asked me out," Michaela responded with wide eyes.

"I just did."

"Um… yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I'd uh… I'd… yeah," she finally got out as she stumbled over her words. She'd been looking forward to this since she couldn't even remember when, but she hadn't imagined her smile would be this wide.

Darren grinned as he watched his two best friends share a quick kiss. He'd known they'd liked each other for a while— they'd never told him directly, but Michaela had made it obvious enough that she was head-over-heals for their friendly neighborhood delinquent. Steve hadn't really shown that he was into her until the past week or two; but then, Steve never did. "That's great. Really great," Darren informed them genuinely.

Steve responded by taking a sip of his soda and flashing one of his rare, non-predatory smiles.


Michaela's eyes snapped up as Mr. Myers, the only teacher who hadn't been dancing around her and her feelings, repeated his question. "Michaela! Please explain the differences between the economy of northern and southern—"

"Can you please, like… stop talking?" Michaela snapped. She didn't really have anything against Mr. Myers, but over the past month he'd gotten on her nerves more and more. He was generally annoying, and had replaced Mr. Dalton after his death— people around here seemed to be dropping like flies. First Darren… then Steve… and now Mr. Dalton. She'd never really liked him (nobody had), but it stilled royally pissed her off that someone could just waltz into a school full of traumatized students and expect them to be on tip-top behavior. Maybe it was just the circumstances, but she was not at all a fan of this guy. "Honestly, you're so annoying! I didn't answer the question because I don't know the answer. You know I don't know the answer! Repeating the question louder and slower and with over-exaggerated enunciation won't make the answer materialize out of thin air and suddenly pop into my head; it just makes you seem like an asshole with a speech impediment."

He waited for the gasping and laughter to die into an awkward silence before commanding, "Michaela Freiland, go to the office and meet with the principal. Now!"

"I hope he gives me a suspension," she decided to comment as she made her way out of the room. "I need a vacation."