Thomas was busy rushing around the room gathering his things for school. I was sitting in the window smoking. Tate hadn't moved an inch all night, I wasn't even sure he blinked. My fear of what he would do had returned full force at sunrise, but I figured he wouldn't try anything while I was present.

"I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yeah." I flicked the cigarette out the window. As soon as Thomas' back was turned I went invisible. It felt all wrong, like walking out in public naked. I followed immediately behind Thomas, and gave Tate a harsh stare as I passed. Tate left us at the bottom of the stairs, but I followed Thomas to the edge of the property, as far as I could go, just to be safe.

When I got back into the house the hallway was empty, but I could hear my mom and Moira's voices coming from the kitchen. They sounded low and strained. I didn't need to guess why.

I walked into the kitchen. "Where is he?" They both stared at me with worry. It was Moira who answered. "In the basement Miss Violet." There was something of a warning in her voice. I ignored it and turned on me heel, but before I could walk out my mom had grabbed my hand.

"Be careful Vi." I could see the fear written on her face. "I'll be fine." My tone was cold and clipped. I took a breath and tried to make it a little more reassuring. "I'm already dead, he can't kill me again. Don't worry Mom, I'll be fine." I could tell her motherly concern wasn't convinced. "You have to trust me on this. No matter what, you know I can take care of myself. Just remember what happened the last time we had a fight." I gave her a brilliant smile, which she only halfheartedly returned. The whole house knew about me stabbing Tate. Chad and Patrick had loved it. I gave her hand a little squeeze, and walked out.

I didn't even pause at the basement door, just flung it open and confidently walked down the steps. My anger wasn't explosive like the last time I'd confronted him; more icy and controlled, and I was going to use it to my benefit because I had a favor to ask of him. I found him sitting in a chair in the corner with his back towards me. I could tell from the stiff set of his shoulders he was still raging. I stopped a few feet behind him.

"Tate?"

Before I knew what was happening the chair had clattered to the floor and he had grabbed me by the shoulders, pushing me up against the rough brick wall of the basement. His eyes were black as pitch and filled with hate, and his breathing was ragged as he stared into my eyes. His touch was gentle, but unyielding. After our last fight Tate had sunk into the darkness of the house. I guess it was his way of dealing with the pain of losing me, and the pain I continued to inflict on him by sleeping with other people. But we had spent the last 5 years carefully avoiding each other. This was the closest we had been since the first, and only time I had banished him.

The intensity of the feelings I had for him, feelings I had long since buried and wished dead, rose up in me. I couldn't react. I couldn't even breathe. I simply stood there frozen. He leaned in closer, and his lips met mine; gentle at first, then rougher. His hands sliding up my neck to cradle my face. The worst part, the absolute worst part, was that I could feel myself getting wet. I wanted him, needed him. Needed to feel him inside of me, because even now I knew I was never going to have with someone else what I had with him, and suddenly it really didn't matter how many people he had killed. A wave of sickening guilt washed over me. What's wrong with me? He raped my mother. I finally moved my hands and pushed him away. He wasn't going to win this time.

His eyes were still full of hate. "He'll never make you feel the way I do." And there was cold triumph in his voice at the thought of that.

So that was how he was going to be. Fine. He wanted to be cruel, well I could be cruel too. I dug in my pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and shook one out. "Tell me something Tate, did you ever really love me, or was it just your 'obsessive need to please the ladies of the house' like Moira said?"

"What?" His voice was sharp, like a whip cracking.

"You heard me." It was shitty, petulant thing to say, but he started this. His face set into a hard mask, devoid of emotion. Was that what he looked like when he killed all those people?

He rushed up next to me, and painfully grabbed my arm; hard enough to bruise me. Maybe I'd gone too far this time. "You're all I ever wanted Violet. I love you!" He screamed at me. "I broke my promise to Nora because of you!" My stomach twisted into a hard knot of fear. He was never going to break me. He was never going to get me to show fear. Thankfully he'd grabbed me by my left arm, and not my right, which was the one I put all my force into when I drew back and slapped him across the face hard enough to bloody his lip.

"And we always kill the things we love, don't we?" I spat at him. As we stood there glaring at each other I thought about how close pleasure was to pain, love to hate. I still hated him, but in the years since our last blow out I had come to accept that no matter what he did, or how deeply I tried to bury it, there would always be a little piece of me that loved him.

I could see the darkness gathering in his face. There was still a chance to pull this back from the brink, but perversely I didn't want to. I wanted him to hurt me physically the way he hurt me emotionally. I was egging him on because I liked the fear. It made me feel alive for the briefest moment. A little hysterical giggle escaped. Then another. My own darkness was boiling to the surface. "What are you going to do Tate? Rape me like you did my mother? Is that the only way you can get it up? Maybe the problem that night on the beach was that I was too gentle with you."

He let out an inarticulate yell and threw me down onto the cold floor next to chair before straddling me. "Why are you doing this to me Violet, I don't want to hurt you." And for the first time there was real malice in his voice.

I reached up and grabbed him by the collar to pull his face down to mine, so he could hear me. "Because I can." Because I like it. Because I want to make you hurt. Because I want to make us both hurt. And it was there in his eyes. My lust reflected in his. I pulled on his collar to close the distance between us, and our lips met again. I could taste the blood there, and I licked it off feeling none of the revulsion I had years before when he licked my blood. There was no pretext of gentleness though.

His lips were urgent against mine, and they traced a line to my ear where he moaned, "I missed you so much, Vi." My hands tangled into his hair as I guided his lips to my neck. I let out a small moan as he trailed his way down, eventually biting me hard enough to leave a mark on that delicate space between my neck and collarbone. I could feel the pain draining out of me like blood from a wound. But the anger was still there, and the guilt. They were warring with desire; need really. Because I needed this, but that wall of anger and guilt was keeping me from it. I couldn't submerge myself in the pleasure of his skin and his touch like I used to because anger and guilt were perched on my conscience like avenging angels telling me that he needed to pay for his sins.

There wasn't even a choice. The words I had spoken to my mother a few minutes ago came ringing back "I'm already dead, he can't kill me again." I realized how wrong I was. If I let this go on any longer it could hurt us both beyond repair, and for the first time I was forced to admit to myself that I didn't want to do that. What I wanted was him back. I wanted the Tate that I knew. The sweet one who cried when he told me he loved me; the one who tried to protect me from everything. That was the person I loved, and the only one I ever wanted.

His lips had made their way back to mine, and we were both fighting for control. I placed my hands purposefully on his chest, and pushed him off of me with all the force I could muster. He fell on the floor next to me, a look of utter confusion on his face as we both caught our breath. "Do you love him?" His voice was rough with pain. Because that would be the real betrayal here, falling in love. He could deal with me sleeping with other men. He didn't like it, but he could deal with it. But there was nothing that could numb the pain of me giving my heart to someone else.

"No, not like you mean." This was important. Tate needed to understand completely if I was going to take away the threat he could pose to Thomas.

"How then?" And there was definite bitterness there.

"He's my friend, Tate. A better friend to me than anyone I had in life. He's our age when we died. I love him like family, and I don't want him trapped here; doomed to suffer forever in this wretched house." I sat up and pulled my knees in, encircling them with my arms.

Tate reached out for my hand and I let him take it. His fingers were tracing circles on my palm when he finally spoke again a few minutes later. "You're not happy here?"

"No, I'm not, but then again who is? We all have to make the best of the hand we're dealt." I could feel the tears forming, hot and stinging the rims of my eyes. "Do you still love me?"

"Always". His words rushed out, "You're the only one I've ever loved, the only one I've ever wanted. Even if you don't want me anymore I'll still love you, still do whatever I can to make you happy, and keep you safe."

And there was my opening. "Anything?"

"Anything." He said firmly.

I smiled at him. A warm smile, a genuine one. "If you want my forgiveness then help me. Help me, and my parents, and Moira, and all the others who want to help. Help us keep Thomas safe from the darkness of this house. Help us give him the life we didn't have, not the one we never wanted. He'll leave for college in a few years. We have to keep him safe until then."

He considered me shrewdly for a moment. "Promise me something in return."

"What?" I picked at the hem of my shirt in the hope that Tate wouldn't see my tears.

"You say he's your friend. Can you promise me that's all it will ever be?"

I looked in his eyes, and reached out to touch his face. "I promise." The tears were flowing in earnest now. "If you don't believe me stay invisible in the corner every night."

He let out a mirthless chuckle, "Oh yeah, big treat getting to watch you curl up in bed with another man. Did Christmas come early this year?" But he reached out and wiped my tears away all the same.

"This is the beginning Tate. I can't forget the pain you caused my family, but I can forgive you. You told me you wanted to be a good person. Be one. Do something good for someone in this prison instead of adding to the carnage." I left him sitting there on the floor, lost in thought.

He did help though. I was surprised how many of the houses inhabitants wanted to help. Some didn't, Hayden, a few others. Mostly though none of us wanted to be here, and if we could help someone avoid our fate we would go to any lengths we could to protect the living.