Disclaimer: All ideas, characters, and places belong to their respective owners. Jonnie's mine.

A/N: Thanks to anyone who read! Thanks to Alpha of Night for reviewing!

Chapter Three

Jonquil held the ice pack over her head, hoping to ease the swelling the impact with cement had caused. She was well aware the bruising would not subside until a few days.

She cringed as Tabitha pressed alcohol drenched cotton balls on the opened wounds on her neck.

"Stop moving. This is nothing."

"Feels like something..," Jonquil muttered. She looked up at her frowning professor.

"Why didn't you follow protocol?"

"I don't particularly favor dying."

"If you had followed protocol, perhaps you wouldn't be at such a risk."

"Well if I wasn't getting my ass kicked in a pitch black dungeon, then maybe, yeah, I might have followed protocol. But that was not the case."

Terrence pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. He paced.

"I cannot believe you. I just can't."

"ME? You can't believe me? Ow," Jonquil flinched, Tabitha frowning.

"Stop moving."

Jonquil growled. She narrowed her eyes at her professor.

"I can't believe you! Who said, 'call in for assistance?' You! Lo and behold, it was also YOU who did not arrive when the time called for it!"

"You need to learn!"

"How to die?! Methods of Self Destruction 101? Thanks for the intro on vamps!"

"I don't understand how you failed to do this correctly."

"Theory and practice are two different things. In theory, it's all controlled. In practice, no one follows the rules."

"But I trained you. And you did so well yesterday...I just..."

The professor was not handling his pupil's failure well.

"I had help yesterday. I could follow the rules yesterday. Today I was alone, and my opponents were stronger than yesterday."

Terrence shook his head and walked out of the kitchen.

Jonquil sighed. Her face was stained with bruises blood and dirt. A warrior fighting out of Hell. Perhaps the eighth circle...

Tabitha stopped.

"Go take a shower. There's one upstairs. I'll bring you clothes from the truck. Towels are in the closet outside."

Jonquil rose from her seat, and made her way upstairs.

Tabitha collected her supplies. She went outside, where she knew she would find the tormented professor. He turned when he heard the door open.

"How could I fail?"

"You didn't fail Alex."

"Yes, I did. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't handle this. Two vampires. She couldn't even handle this..."

"Alex, you know as well as I do that things never stick to the book."

"But she could have had it . . ."

"Alex, I turned these vampires feral. Do you understand that? They weren't your run of the mill hungry vampires. They were starved and crazed. The fact that she could handle that was a feat of its own."

"I fear what will happen to her when she's on her own...She needs to be perfect."

Tabitha frowned. "What is this really about Alex?"

"Her perfection."

"Or is it your inadequacy?"

Alex frowned and glanced sharply at Tabitha. She mirrored his look.

"I only care for her safety."

"Really? Is that it? You did not opt to go in and help her when"--

"She needs to learn."

"By the book, of course..."

"Her safety is kept when she follows the rules."

"Alex, you should know that things change once you're actually out there. That is why you left, and don't try to deny it..."

"Don't you dare to tell me why I left or not. I know my reasons."

Tabitha raised an eyebrow, doubting his words.

---

The water poured down on Jonquil's bruised body. The warm water soothed her aches. She hated concrete.

Jonquil did not know what to think of her professor's outburst and of her own performance.

The pupil was confused. She was angry, angry with herself. How could she have forgotten everything she had learned? It was a controlled environment! How did she lose her power so quickly? She had failed her professor. But she was also angry with her trainer. How dare he be disappointed with her? She had killed the vampire successfully, and was that not the goal in the end? She could have died. Then what? She did the best she could, given the circumstances. And this was how she was treated when she came back from the battle?

Jonquil had never craved perfection. She was not content with mediocrity, but she knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was something that was well done. Her professor was another case. He always needed her to be on top of it all. To be perfect, with every move she made. Upon reflection, it seemed he was trying to build her into the perfect hunter. Well taught in the text, and well worn on the field. Memorization and application. That was his motto. Why did everything need a structure?

Jonquil remembered the day of their first hunt, a level one ghost. The day before, he had given her a test on ghosts. She had passed with a satisfactory grade. He made sure she was hunting the ghost down as the texts had prescribed. Nothing went out of order. Terrence made sure of it. Once they had successfully completed the mission, she had asked him why they needed these rules, this structure. He told her that even art had rules that made it what it was. Hunting had rules to make sure what needed to be done was done right.

The pupil understood that point. She did not, however, understand why there needed to be such rigidity to the way things were done. As long as she followed the main point, the points that paralyzed, destroyed and cast away forever what needed to be cast away forever, what was the problem?

A knock on the door disrupted Jonquil's thinking.

"It's Tabitha. I'm going to leave your clothing on the shelf."

The door opened for a minute, and within seconds, it was closed.

The pupil understood the professor's point, but what would happen once the professor was out of the picture?

---

Jonquil entered the living room with her wet hair dripping on her back. The water darkened the gray shirt she had on.

"Where's Terrence?"

"He left."

"What?"

"He said he'll be back tomorrow."

Jonquil shook her head. Terrence was having a temper tantrum. A grown man, having a fit. The girl could not believe it.

"I guess I should head back to the motel now."

"I'd wait a few hours. Alex can be stubborn."

The pupil sat herself in the rocking chair across from the accountant. Was her failure that devastating?

---

The professor was driving, and he was going fast. He was sure that he had hit a small mammal, perhaps a squirrel on his trek to the motel.

Alexander Terrence's past had finally caught up with him. The past which he had been avoiding for so long was finally at his feet.

Alexander Terrence was not a perfect hunter. He was not all that good of a hunter, if facts needed to be presented. However, he did know how to teach others how to execute moves properly. It was he who helped improve Tabitha's ability. It was he who helped improve the tactics and increase the knowledge of countless hunters since the 1970s. What was wrong now?

Terrence's green pickup pulled into the motel's parking lot.

He walked out, and headed to the door. His head was dropped in failure. Once more he had failed. He opened the door and shut it behind him. The small motel room was dark, despite the small rays of light that flitted through the Venetian blinds.

The professor silently held back tears. This was the final failure.

Terrence went to his suitcase, searching blindly for a tie. He pulled out a yellow tie with light green stitches; his favorite. The man walked to the coffee table and climbed atop it. He tied the cloth around his neck. He was done with the failures. He reached up for the light, attempting to knot the tie around the fluorescent tube.

The professor was seconds away from kicking the table under his feet. A short drop and a sudden stop, as it is said.

The door burst open and slammed shut. The professor fixed his gaze on the amorphous black cloud of smoke. His eyes widened in shock and fear.

"Don't stop on my account. As a matter of fact, allow me to help you . . ."

Alexander Terrence opened his mouth to bargain with the powerful demon, as he did once . . .

---

Young Terrence at once had realized he was alone in the woods; his comrades had taken flight to fight the lesser demons.

The powerful demon had possessed a young man. His features were twisted, dark, and the very bone that made his skull had been forced upward, ripping through his skin, warped into horns. The human's blood had dried, forming a dark crimson crust around the base of the uprooted bone.

Terrence did not believe in quitting, and failure much less, but the young man was no fool. He knew when the fight was over; this one did not even have a chance to begin. The demon cocked his head to the side, allowing his eyes to better view his prey. He licked his lips, hungry, and in full view of a meal. Terrence attempted to hold the screams of fear he had in his throat. Would he prostrate himself, submit himself to a deal with a demon?

The thought need not remain more than a second, for young Terrence had yet to live long enough.

"Please! Wait! Don't kill me! I'll make a deal with you!"

"A deal?"

"Yes, yes a deal!" Terrence was on the backs of his hands, slowly skidding away from the demon.

"Well then … Don't try to leave…"

Terrence froze.

"What do you want?"

"I want to live! Okay, let me live and you can come back when I'm done!"

The demon lifted a brow. He thought it over. A smirk slid on his face. It turned Terrence's stomach.

"I shall let you live. But when you are done, I shall comeback, and your will is mine."

Terrence shook his head vigorously. "Yes! Yes! It's a deal!"

The demon held out his hand. "Shake on it then."

Terrence took the demon's hand, and shook it, sealing the promise.

A sharp pain shot through his arm, starting from the center of his palm. The demon's dark eyes were the last thing he saw before he blacked out.