How much groveling do i have to do? Seriously guys, i am extremly sorry for not updating in like how many it makes y'all feel any better, it wasn't just this story, i haven't wrote for any of my other stories, so i have a lot to catch up on. I'm sorry. Lets just say life got in the way and reality hit me, oh and i've been on a Supernatural hype *fangirl squeal* so yeah blame that. Thanks for anyone who is still with me and this story. I hope you like it. Please R&R. Pwetty please. sorry for any mistakes.

~Lovelife xx


From an early age Shane Collins had been taught to be strong, fearless. His father trained him to be a warrior, to hunt vampires and kill every last one of them. He would never back down from a fight, he would never show emotion. There was black and white. Vampire and Human. Evil and not. There was no inbetween with Shane Collins, never. He was a whore he new that. He fucked who he wanted to, drank what he wanted to and killed vampires that was his life.

After Lyssa had died his family moved. They pack what little they had left and they fled, early hours one monday morning, they ran from Morganville, hoping to leave it behind them and never look back. They were wrong. They wanted to start over, try to be happy again but when do they ever get what they wanted. Frank Collins became a drunk and abusive. Choosing to dwell on his daughters death and blaming his son for not saving her. Then when it seemed thigns couldn't get worse for their disunctional family. Shane's mother died. He says died but Frank filled his head with notions that the vampires done it, they killed her, becuase no one ever gets away from Morganville and remembers.

So Shane went back to Morganville because his best friend needed him but to also scout the place, find the head vampires because that is what Framk wanted of him. He was a soilder, he followed what his father said. He let his rage take over and he headed back to Morganville to kill as many son's of bitches as he could.

Then he met her, Claire, he allowed himself to fall in love. With someone younger, smarter, sweeter than him. He didn't deserve her but wasn't he allowed to be selfish, just once. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe. Save her unlike Lyssa but then she was working with them. The vampires, she trusted them. How could he love someone who trusted them things. Like always it only got worse, his best friend, the only friend he had, the only person he trusted completely became one of them. He became one of those things that killed his mother. Those fucking bloodsuckers.

His girlfriend trusted them. His best friend was one of them, then even Eve was fucking one of them.

And they all shared a house.

Figures.

Every essence of who he was, was being ripped away from him. He was a warrior yet he couldn't kill a vampire which was sat across from him at their kitchen table. He didn't feel any emotion yet he would jump infront of a bullet for this one tiny girl that he loves more than life himself.

He had no fear.

No one could break him.

Yet here he was with a gun placed in his mouth.

Here he was, sat on the floor of their house where everything broke, were everything he loved came tumbling down and suffocated him.

With one last glance to the kitchen where they had all spent most of their time, so many memories where held at that table.

He gave it one last glance,

as he pulled the trigger.

Commiting one last sin.


The thick scent of blood hung heavy in the air of the glass house. Silence filled every inch of the tall house, no source of light. The house could feel the depressions that painted it self to every wall. It was like there had never been life in the house. No laughs.

Death.

The glass house held so much death but never any like this.

Never suicide.

Blood and brains were splattered against the door, thick droplets sliding down the door like darked tear drops. Silently screaming for attention, screaming.

Screaming.

High pitched screams broke the eerie silence of The glass house.

Black Doc Martins stained with blood, pale hands shaking at dead shoulders. Actually tears falling rapidly down a white face, blotches of black following, Lace and chains hanging from the dark skirt she was wearing, dragging in the flood of blood, surrounding the limp body of the once solid man.

Eve.

Choked sobs escaped her mouth as she shaked Shane.

"Wake up you bastard wake up. What have you done?"

"Shane"

"Shane"

"SHANE!"

She could no longer controll the sobs that escaped her. She curled herself into a ball and cried, she mourned and blubbered.

Shakily she reached for her phone, she rang the only person she could think of.

With hands that shook violently, she dialed Michael's number and prayed he answered.

Michael would know what to do.

Michael always knew what to do.

She tried to control her hysteria.

And waited for him to answer.


Well thats this chapter done, thanks for reading guys. xxx