Chapter 10:

I don't own anything.

I didn't update for a while; I apologise for that. I didn't have the motivation to write this story, given nobody really reads it, so...

Myrnin's POV:

She's sleeping now – I can hear the change in her breathing, hear the slowing of her heart, as she slumbers. She needs the sleep – it's been a long day for her, doing whatever she was before attending the ball, finding out about the missing state of Sam, hunting Sam down and only then finding out that I gave the man a sleeping potion. I think I have had entire years that have less action in them than this one day…and we only have another two to find the rejuvenated (who wouldn't be after six months of sleeping) vampire.

Otherwise Claire will be dead.

I don't doubt that Amelie will follow through on her promise – she loves Sam far too much. I am nothing compared to him. After all, the disease has been cured and she knows roughly how to control the machine: what use does she have to keep me onside with her now? The only reason she remains loyal to me is the past, or even in gratitude for the curing of the disease – if it came down to keeping me 'hers' or not to get what she wants, she wouldn't hesitate to discard me.

She doesn't need me.

Therefore, if we fail, Claire is dead. She cannot hide in Morganville – Amelie knows where she would be. After all, there aren't that many hiding places, certainly not from those who can sense her movements from one hundred metres away. The sun won't help her, certainly not with Amelie chasing her. I conclude that if we fail, she dies. I would not be able to get her out and anyway, Amelie would find her.

Amelie always wins.

I sit in the lab and close my eyes, thinking through absolutely everything once again. I think of absolutely every place one could hide in Morganville, think of every way I could manage to find him and bring him to Amelie in a way that doesn't have both of us killed, think of a way to simply get this near impossible feat accomplished in the remaining two and a half (or so) days we have left. He could be anywhere – I don't actually believe it possible for us to search the entire graveyard in the remaining time we have left, for Claire refuses to allow me to do anything without her.

I could canvas the entire graveyard in one night if she would just stay home, yet I can see her point. She ought to be there, if she is the one who will be punished if we fail – which, to simply further my previous point, she will be.

Yet I don't want her there – it's dangerous and I don't want her to run the risk of being hurt or maimed by Sam…or anything. Vampires are, once again, roaming the streets at night, for the ball is over, and I am confident that there shall be ones present in the locations where we desire to visit. I desire her; therefore, having her mutilated by those in the tunnels won't exactly improve my mood.

Oh, little Claire. She is the only woman in the world alive whom I want and yet she doesn't seem to realise it. She's too hung up on the damned Collins boy, the one who doesn't deserve her whatsoever, yet his actions only seem to draw her closer to him. If she were a normal child…yet if she were normal, she would barely be finishing high school, let alone being here in Morganville.

If she was normal and did end up attending TPU, she wouldn't have gotten caught up fighting against Monica and therefore wouldn't have left the campus. No, if Claire were normal… I wouldn't be here now.

All I want her to do is to realise that he isn't for her, that he only thinks about himself and doesn't really care about her. Only then, when she has realised Shane is not the one for her to be with forever, can she finally see the love I have for her, finally see the love she reciprocates for what it truly is – the thing that will make her happier than anything else. Who else but me understands the thirst for knowledge she has, the way that the science world works? Nobody does…that's what makes us so unique – we understand everything about one another already; we're just the ones for one another…no exception.

A strange buzzing noise interrupts my thoughts, and I cannot place it – whilst I have heard it before, it doesn't belong in this lab. However, it suddenly stops, allowing my ears a rest from its high pitched squeaking, something which will destroy my hearing if it…oh, it has recommenced.

I stand up and begin to look around the lab for strange objects that don't belong here, when I pinpoint it to the sofa. But what could be on here other than…Claire's mobile. Of course, I had entirely forgotten about the invention of mobile telephones, of which creates the most irritating noise that I have ever heard.

It cuts off once again and I'm rewarded with a few moments of blissful silence, yet I continue to search for the phone. I don't want it- ahhh, it begins to peal again with a noise so heinous the creator ought to have been shot as soon as he had created it...actually, it's so bad I presume a woman made it.

Finally, I find the pesky device and look at the screen to discover the perpetrator of the continual ringing is none other than Mr Collins, the luckiest man on the planet. I deliberate over not answering it but his persistence thus far suggests that he shall not give up until the phone is answered by Claire.

Well, I can give him better than that – I am willing to waste moments of my precious time on the phone to him so that he will stop ringing! Just so that he will give up with the most annoying stunt I believe he has pulled since the 'Bite Club' scenario, I am going to spend my valuable time (which could be put to use saving Claire) on the phone to him. this is in order for him to discover that Claire is not in any danger, she is simply sleeping. Furthermore, he could be ringing to apologise to her for his cruel words earlier (I couldn't help but overhear and it pained me greatly…well…) which will serve him right ever more since she has fell into a deep slumber before he could pass on those meaningless, and frankly overused, words.

I answer the phone but do not speak, allowing him the opportunity to have the first words in the conversation.

"Hello, Claire?" his voice sounds uncertain, there evidently being a lack of certainty as to why she isn't answering the phone with her usual, cheery "hello!"

"No, it is Myrnin," I say curtly, unable to help myself when I hear his voice – it makes me want to kill things. "What is your purpose by ringing when she is evidently sleeping, for she has been up all night?" I continue, phrasing it just so that it's a question, yet not particularly so.

I can hear him opening and closing his mouth numerous times, an act which always irritates me – why do humans feel the need to do this? It's more than a little annoying, yet they continue to do it, this being their one 'power kick' over us…or, rather, it is until they die.

"Where is she?" he demands, his voice hardening back to the usual tone it is when he converses with me.

"If you had bothered to listen to what I have said mere minutes ago, you would know that she is sleeping," I snap at him, unable to help myself as usual when conversing with him. If there were to only be one human in the world left excluding Claire, I can assure you he would be the last of my list…I believe even these pesky Republicans who always seem to be arguing with the nice Mr President would be preferable in comparison with this boy.

Unsurprisingly, for we are discussing the boy with the shortest temper in the world – and I include Amelie in this comparison of tempers – he begins to make angry noises and mutter under his breath (forgetting I can hear him perfectly) before responding. "She's sleeping in your bed?" he snarls down the phone at me, his tone less than satisfactory for me. So long as I fill in the correct paperwork, I'm hoping that Amelie shall permit me to kill him. After all, it shall be the one bright spot in my life…but perhaps to ask her after we find Sam, so she is in a better mood – I doubt she'll let me kill someone as obvious in this town as Shane Collins without something substantial in return. Though I'm hoping that she'll be too distracted by Sam being alive for her to ask why he is.

"Well, where else is she going to sleep, on the floor?" I roll my eyes, sarcasm flooding my tone. "Evidently you believe Claire is able to function on no sleep, for otherwise you wouldn't be calling at this time, which is near the middle of the night!"

"It's seven am!" he cries down the phone. "She's normally awake at this time, but since you're so…you're so busy…" he trails off, not able to continue this sentence though I have a very graphical image in my head as to what he is implying.

"Yes, I am very busy," I play along, wondering how much it will take for him to be coming over here and trying to kill me. "Claire is asleep, for she has done much work this day…well, I suppose it is more of this evening, since she stayed awake all night," I grin wickedly as I realise what he is hopefully thinking in his mind, filling in blanks that don't even exist.

"Why is her dress here?" he demands suddenly, taking a route of conversation I never expected. Then again, humans these days aren't exactly logical – his question throws me slightly, into revealing the truth.

"She didn't want to wear it; we had to go out on a mission and it was deemed inappropriate by Claire to wear it," I inform him, actually not meaning any of the innuendos possible to be conceived from this statement. "I don't know what you're so worried about, probably from your own extra-relational affairs – but I can assure you the only thing Claire has done is work!"

"URGH!" he screams, sounding awfully like a girl before slamming down the phone in disgust. The suddenness of the action gives me the indication that the phone is most likely in pieces on the floor, shattered beyond use which is possibly the only similarity between myself and him…as much as I hate to admit it.

"Well, that was riveting," I mutter, shutting the phone off instinctively – the beeping is quite possibly the most annoying thing in the world, after Shane, but I'm not entirely sure how the phone works. I have broken so many of the devices that I don't want to-oh, thankfully the phone turns black in a way that I can tell is simply on standby (I think that's the word) rather than being dead, like most phones I touch.

I toss it lightly back into her bag – or, rather, the contents of her bag strewn over the cushion of the sofa – before continuing pacing up and down the lab. Blurring from one side to the other, I run over the list in my head over and over again, wondering if I have overlooked somewhere for being too obvious – but no, I have perhaps even been too cautious and added some of the more idiotic locations a lovesick vampire returning from the dead may head to.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I turn around to hear the sneering of Shane Collins as he stands on my stairs as if he owns them. He takes a step down and lingers, this being on the stair that is the rottenest of the lot of them…a fact I deign not to inform him with a slightly evil tinge to my thoughts. I detest this human more than any of the others – why would I give him a fact that could spare him a little humiliation?

"Pacing, evidently it is something far from your capabilities in the land of the apes to understand," I roll my eyes at him, the usual, slightly jovial hint to my voice entirely absent as it always is when I face this human. Incase I have yet to make it obvious, I cannot stand him. "Now, the first logical question: why are you here, in my lab?" I deliberately stress that the lab is mine, therefore insinuating the question why is he here.

Unfortunately, he descends further into my lab before the step breaks – if he had remained upon it for merely another thirty seconds at most, he would be in a pile of cobwebs and perhaps some old human bones…I forget what I put under the stairs all those years ago.

"I want to see her," he tries to look around to find the bedroom but only those who know where it is can locate it within this mess of a laboratory. Amelie continually (or she did, until yesterday) presses me to tidy it, sometimes even sending in workers to do so when I am out, but I never do. When she does get others to tidy it, I deliberately make it into a worse state than before – but it is organised chaos. I know where everything is.

"Now, why would I allow you to do that?" I smile for the first time since he has arrived, yet it is bitter and full of the satisfaction that I know where she is and he doesn't. "She requires rest; hence the fact she is sleeping now rather than being up and about as you rightly said she usually is."

He looks slightly taken aback for a moment (I credit the use of the word 'hence') but then he shakes his head and attempts to put a threatening expression on. I use the word attempts for I am as scared as perhaps a sponge would be when it is pressed against another sponge – ie, not whatsoever, if only for the reason that sponges are inanimate therefore have no feelings.

"She is my girlfriend," unfortunately, he continues to be correct in saying this for I am yet to persuade Claire that I am the one for her and not him. "I have the right to see her. You answered her phone…you made me think…"

"You conceived in your own mind that I had had my way with Claire, something which would only occur if she consented," I speak in a low tone, the second clause certainly impossible for him to hear. "As I think you will find if I were asked to repeat my exact words – a feat I am capable of doing – there would be nothing incriminating there. It is simply your belief that there is something that could occur that has you running over here, is that not correct?" I correctly summarise why he is here within mere sentences, ignoring his continual attempts to butt into my explanation.

"I want to see her," he stands his ground pointlessly, pressing for something that shall make no difference to him. he ought to have realised that I have not slept with Claire now, so why he continues to wish to see her is not entirely obvious to me, yet I suppose it could be a point he is trying to make.

Will I ever get rid of the scent of Shane Collins from my lab if I allow him to stay much longer? No, I very much doubt I shall. So should I relent?

"She is through there and to the left," I point the way, sighing as I turn back to notice three test tubes I thought Claire had lost the other week on the side. They evidently missed the cut, so to speak, in terms of my placement of test tubes on the far right bench.

Shane ignores me, simply knocking over piles of perfectly set up documents on various benches across the room on his way to see Claire in my bedroom. Sighing, I begin to pick them up before deciding to simply leave them – they can be something for Claire to do when she returns to work once we have dealt with Sam. I refuse to acknowledge the fact that she may not make it out of this week.

Shane returns suddenly, his face hardened into lines, and I realise I have been spaced out for over fifteen minutes. He could have been saying anything to her, done anything, and I haven't heard a single thing during this entire time.

I half expect him to leave, or try and attack me (I want a good fight with someone other than Oliver, so I can expand techniques once again) but he does neither. Instead, he sits down in the chair where Claire normally sits and stares at me, shooting daggers as soon as I make eye contact with him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was running a help session for crazy teens today," I say to him sarcastically, relishing the chance to sharpen my humour upon someone so dumb.

"Oh, is the help just for Claire?" he replies, not exactly in the greatest clarity. "I mean, you drag her here half the time; are you simply trying to persuade her to fall into bed with you, or are you just hoping to take advantage?"

So we're back at this stage in the conversation once again. "Neither, boy, so if you would leave now before I rip you limb from limb, do so. I have much to be doing and cannot afford to waste time upon you."

"I'm not leaving till she wakes up and comes with me," he crosses his arms defiantly, looking at me as if I'm some sort of rubbish, I believe the phrase is today. "You tell me where she's been all night and maybe I don't ban her from seeing you. If not, then I..."

"She is more than capable of making her own decisions as to what she does, Shane; she doesn't need you," my tone has perhaps a touch too much acid in it. "Last night…let me see…we attended the ball together, as per Amelie's request, whilst you had too much to illegally drink. Then we were given something to do by Amelie, so Claire returned here to change into the clothes you saw her in mere minutes ago and then we headed out upon this mission before returning here, where Claire promptly fell asleep," I remove the information about our brainstorming for this retard would simply head to those locations and mess up any evidence possibly there of Sam.

"Why didn't she come home?"

"We must work as soon as she awakens, therefore to avoid the questions, it was agreed that she sleep here," I reply, wondering when the childish questions shall stop. "Now, if that's all, please leave."

"No, not without Claire," he repeats…I have a feeling this shall be a long day.

~an hour later~

"Leave?" I repeat for the four hundred and seventy second time, wondering when he will bored enough to simply leave. I would kill him yet I have a feeling his father, the machine who has been programmed to never speak to me again, would resurface with a vengeance and then we would be back to the situation of the town having no protection.

"No." he repeats this for the four hundred and seventy second time, causing me to make the decision.

The decision to call in the big guns.

The decision to call in Amelie.

.

Within three minutes of my phone call to her, she is walking through the portal with a disgruntled look on her face. Actually, it's more than that; she hates to be in my presence for longer than she can either threaten me or shoot a contemptuous glance in my direction, so for me to have called her here isn't exactly improving the relations here. in fact, I can't actually remember what I did…oh, yes, I told Claire important vampire politics that ought to have remained between elder vampires and certainly not told to the human help who saved us all.

"Yes?" she sighs deeply, coolness emulating from her.

"Dear Mr Collins is refusing to vacate my laboratory until Claire awakens and comes with him; he is refusing to believe that you set us upon a mission and simply is under the impression Claire and myself spent the night here, together," I say smoothly, shooting slightly childish looks at Shane who rolls his eyes before glaring back.

"Is that all?" she doesn't seem particularly happy to be here – unsurprisingly, in all honesty – yet I cannot tell if she is trying to get back to searching for Sam or to spending time with Oliver.

"Yes, but since I cannot do any work if he is here," I hint subtly, but in an obvious enough way that Amelie, a woman who does not possess a science bone in her body, shall understand.

"Ahhh, yes, how are you getting on with that project you were given last night?"

I make a face, something which seems to give her vindictive pleasure. I can only wish I knew what she said to Claire last night as to whether she is deathly serious about the threat upon Claire's life or not.

"It shall be able to progress much faster when this lump of lard is kicked out of my laboratory," I sniff, indicating the boy continuing to sit in Claire's seat.

"Mr Collins, if you do not leave this instant, I shall have you arrested for various misdemeanours I have overlooked in the past," she threatens him coldly, watching as his face pales slightly. "Go," she orders and he does so, a look of pure hatred directed at the pair of us.

Oh, how I love Shane Collins!

Third person POV – yes, I'm doing third person!

Amelie turns to him and sighs, relaxing slightly now that there is no human present (or one that is conscious, at least) yet her expression still continues to appear as if she wishes to throw daggers through his body continually.

"Well?" she questions, as if it is obvious to Myrnin what she desires to know. However, with the topic of information discussed last night and the ultimatum given, he can assume that she is meaning the search for Sam…as, in all honesty, what else would it be?

He focuses upon her, losing any thoughts about Claire as he tries to appease Amelie enough into getting her to drop the three day deadline: to fully search all of those locations, it could take up to a week.

"I…well…we have a list of locations, yet we cannot go until nightfall, therefore meaning that we have only twenty hours, a time period not adequate enough to search them all properly. After all, I doubt he is just lying around," he answers smoothly, deigning to leave the alive status of Sam out of the equation, for that would only complicate things.

"So?" something in her tone informs him that this attempt is futile, that she is not going to give them more time. "You and Claire are the reason I have sent you out on this mission," she continues, but he cuts her off.

"And what makes you think that?" the slightly defensive hint to his tone would have Amelie normally wondering what he has done, but she is beyond that. The silent fury emulating around the room now he is in her presence is unmissable; the seemingly pure hatred towards him would have anyone who didn't know otherwise thinking that they were enemies.

"Fool, if you had not informed Claire of the status of Samuel's body, then I would not have been subjected to a human girl lecturing me about love," she hisses at him, eyes narrowed and pure, blazing silver. "You think I sent you out with her to punish you, for she is quite obviously in love with that boy? You think I would find satisfaction within something so trivial when Sam's body is missing?" under the anger so blatantly obvious it would take an idiot to miss it, there's also shock and a little sadness, Myrnin can tell, that he could think that she valued Sam so little.

"I never insinuated anything along those lines," he begins to answer, yet this time she cuts him off.

"You didn't have to, fool," she growls in his direction, feral the only word to describe her at the current moment in time…feral…and scared. Almost like seeing two different people: there's the feral, vicious monster that wishes to destroy everything since her Sam is missing…and the scared, little, fragile girl who has no idea what to do and is barely stopping herself from crumbling apart.

"Then I don't understand…"

"Oh you never do," his uncompleted sentence seems to infuriate her further, making the situation one hundred times worse. "Let me remind you what happens if you do not find my Sam in the next two days: Claire dies. You know I will keep my word; if there is one person about whom I do not take lightly, it is Samuel," she bores her eyes into his, trying to see if he understands.

He does.

"I know," he sighs, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes to avoid shedding the moisture forming there. Does he dare attack Amelie verbally now, or not, for fear that she may reduce their time? "Yet, Amelie, you are being a little greedy, are you not?" he decides to, for they are going to fail anyway. He may as well speed along the process of killing his Claire…though the only stage possible to advance on her death is Amelie making him do it.

"Pray tell," her slipping back into Middle English startles him for a moment, until he remembers this was her preferred time period.

"You are with Oliver now, are you not?" he returns to looking at her, watching as her face freezes in an unreadable expression. "Therefore to demand Sam back as well is more than selfish, it's greedy. You want Sam for the memories he holds, yet Oliver for the present, to attempt to forget Sam. Well, Amelie, this shall not work," his rash, yet correct speech has her silent for nearly a minute before replying.

"I could kill you both right now," is the only response she can muster, his words having hit her in a dangerous place: her heart. "I could decimate you right here, right now, for what you have just said."

"Go ahead," he shrugs, staring right at her to call her bluff. "If you insist on the punishment being Claire's life for not finding Sam, you would destroy me as well. We are going to fail, so why not bring forward the execution date to now?"

She blinks at him, not understanding why he has taken this course, not seeing that he is playing her – if she goes for his words, she is simply doing as he asks…yet if she doesn't, if she remembers the value they both hold for her, perhaps – just perhaps – she shall give them longer.

Her hand shoots forwards to grip him by the throat, her long, pink painted nails digging into his throat, reminiscent of that night in the prison mere weeks ago. "I can see what you are doing fool, and it has not worked," she hisses, culling his hopes instantly. "Come with me to my office and perhaps we can negotiate to a place further towards your demands. She sleeps, I presume, therefore we have no need to remain here."

He nods slowly and she removes her hand from his throat, breathing noticeably. Her blonde hair fans out over her shoulders, yet it is wild and unbrushed, entirely the opposite of what he would normally have expected from her. Her eyes are bright and gleaming ferociously, any images of perfection (and there were) from last night entirely eradicated.

"Good," she smiles very slightly, yet it does not mean anything. "Come, Myrnin. After all, as you said, you have limited time."

And this time, the smile reaches her eyes.

He follows her through the portal, entirely focused on ways to perhaps elongate Claire's life, ways to barter things for more time, threats to get the same result – he doesn't think of Claire.

The door slams shut.

Her eyes flash open, wide with panic.

She heard it all.

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