After saying goodnight to Carlos, Kendall walked back down the hallway and leaned against the wall. He sighed audibly. Katie poked her head out of her bedroom.

"Everything okay, big brother?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Please, I've known you my whole life and I can tell when something's wrong, so what's up?"

Kendall shook his head. "Nothing, it's just something that Carlos told me that's got me a little freaked out."

"What did he say? Come on, Kendall. I'm not a little kid anymore. You don't have to protect me."

"Don't worry about it. I just have some thinking to do, that's all."

As Kendall turned to walk into his room, Katie spoke up.

"Hey Kendall, if Carlos is here, does this mean that you're going to try to find James and Logan?"

"I don't know, Katie."

With that, Kendall closed the door to his room and sank onto his bed. He couldn't believe this was happening. He didn't know what was worse, though. The fact that Carlos told him that danger was coming, or the fact that he might have to talk to Logan and James again. As much as he missed his friends, he was scared. It had been five years since he had last seen his friends. What if they changed? With another sigh, Kendall changed into pajamas and crawled back into bed. He closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep.

When James and Riley returned to their apartment, she couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, although she wasn't sure why.

"Do we have to go home tonight? Let's stay out a little longer…" she pleaded, hanging on his arm as he tried to find the right key.

"Oh no no sweetheart, I think you've been out long enough. Come on, you look like you're going to pass out on me."

She rolled her eyes, "So I'm a little weak in the knees and slightly buzzed from the mix of blood tonight, can you blame me?"

He laughed, turning the doorknob after having found the right key, one hand reaching to ruffle her hair.

Riley was the first one into the room, and she immediately headed for their bedroom, if only to prolong what had started in the alley.

Flipping her shirt over her head and dropping it in the laundry basket, she ran a hand through her hair before flipping on the light.

Oh how she wished she hadn't.

"Still can't believe you talked me into a back alley make out session, but atleast if we're home it won't matter how loud you-" James continued from the other room, tossing his hoodie to the couch before he was interrupted by Riley's scream.

Taking off down the hall, he skidded to a stop in the doorway of their bedroom, first noticing the redhead curled in a ball on the floor, shaking and mumbling about something through tears.

Kneeling by her, he coaxed her into a sitting position, pulling her into his lap.

"Hey, calm down honey, you're okay. There's nothing here, I promise. Did you get another flashback? You're okay, Ri-"

"N-No I'm n-not!" She added quickly, grabbing his hand and pulling it over her eyes, "L-Look at th-the-"

She heard rather than saw his reaction, but still was freaked out all the same.

"What. The. Fuck?"

The room was in complete order, only one thing was out of place –the main comforter was pulled back like it always was, but the sheets - he wasn't exactly sure what was drawn on them, but judging by Riley's

reaction, it wasn't good.

"What is that?"

She bit her lip, still keeping his hand over her eyes.

"D-devil's trap. It's used to keep demons in place, if they cross it, they can't leave the circle it forms. W-who would even-"

"There's a note in the middle of it." He noticed, seeing a crumpled piece of paper among the – well, it looked like blood, but there was no way someone could get ahold of that much and have it not be noticed.

Sliding her off him and reminding her everything was okay, he got up and grabbed for the paper, realizing the sheets were sprayed with red spray paint.

"This is ridiculous. Who does this? It's like they just broke in to paint this and leave. Nothing's missing, and there's just this note. I'm so confused."

"What's the note say?" she asked, already having a feeling she knew the answer.

"Well – here. It says, 'I know you think you're being good, but that lapse tonight and how you're focused on revenge? I'd be surprised if he doesn't turn and run when he knows what you've become. Or what you plan to be. Remember the plan – you can't lose yourself now. If you want to find me, fine – but expect they'll find you first.' Riley, what is this? It's directed at you!"

She visibly cringed.

"I-I don't know. How did they find out about tonight? And just how I feel about Ill-?"

"And why do I have a feeling it's also talking about me? What does it mean by me knowing what you've become? I already know you've lapsed, that could be it. But what's this about a plan, hey?"

"I don't know, James. I seriously don't know, okay!?"

"Well, whoever they are, they assume you know them and you'll come after them."

"It could be one of Taelia's friends trying to scare me, y'know how faeries are, they're like in packs! That has to be who this is! Just get rid of it, Jamesy, please! It's bad enough I know that they can get in, but to put that where I sleep? I can't. Everywhere I go, my revenge haunts me."

"It's not a curse," he tried, ripping the note in two before gathering the sheets that had been painted on and putting them all in the corner of the room, planning on cleaning them as soon as possible after whatever mess it had implied was cleaned up.

"It's just something you have to deal with. You don't have to like it, but you can't avoid it."

"Listen to you, comfortable being undead much? I seem to remember I wasn't the one who put their fist through a mirror when I found out I had fangs," she teased as she lifted her head, surprised that thinking of the memory had made her smile.

"Well you didn't exactly ease me into it."

"Was never going to, I'm not like that. Why do you think I made the first move? And besides, why sugar coat if it's only going to hurt more later on? Oh, joy - sounds like this is turning into moral debate, better shut me up before I go on a rant. And before those last nine words cause you to do anything, I'll just mention I'd prefer sleeping in the living room tonight, just to save my sanity."

"Mine too. You've had enough fun tonight, don't you think? I don't even know what your final kill count was. Wouldn't a movie sound better than what I know you're thinking?"

"You know how movies end up - there's no difference between what I'm thinking now and the movie except maybe forty-five minutes of pretending to pay attention. And it was six, by the way. Lot better than

I used to be, believe me."

He smiled, offering her his hand to pull her to her feet, trying to remember she didn't want to end up sleeping in the room they were in.

"Can you atleast put a shirt on? I mean, we might end up sleeping in here like it or not."

She turned to look at him and winked, going to walk out of the room, adding, "I'm sorry…about that freakout, I just-" but before she could finish James had grabbed for her wrist and spun her back around to face him, "Demon stuff, I get it. You don't have to explain it, everything about your past relationship about covers it."

He smiled, but let go of her right away, remembering the scene from two hours earlier.

"And about earlier, I'm-" He didn't get five words out before she'd slapped her hand to her forehead.

"Fuckin' A. It's worse than that. I think I know who did that – I've been backstabbed."

"How'd you figure?"

She rolled her eyes, but laughed, walking him back against the door.

James smirked, his hands grabbing her hips to pull her closer against him, neverminding the almost-whine of impatience as she spoke between kisses.

"How could a demon be able," pause. "to draw a demon's trap-" pause. "and not get stuck in it?" pause. "She really thinks she's outdone me," pause. "I'm gonna hunt-" pause. "her down myself, I don't care-" pause. "who comes after me."

This time his fingers hook into the belt loops of her jeans at the same time she reaches to pull his shirt off, and for once he's thankful she's still got a bra on – if not, they wouldn't be talking much, not when there was so much else they could be doing.

"Riley, who?" He asks, trying to prolong whatever conversation he can in the moment, knowing she expects him to declasp her bra at any second.

"Taelia."

James isn't sure how to react, but before he can, Riley's launched into something else altogether by explaining why, "How else would she know where to find me? Nothing was broken in because the bitch can get in her own way with that fuckin' faerie magic, how was I so stupid?"

"You're not stupid." One hand to unclip her bra, the other to put a hand behind her head. Two seconds to suppress another groan as she worked her jeans off, not putting any space between them. When she finally looked up again, her eyes were black with lust, despite all the killing from earlier in the day.

"With all that killing I did today, it made me realize some things. Firstly, yeah, fresh human blood is way better than refrigerator donation center stuff. Secondly – I'm really really really glad I have you, as much as I may talk about the past. I'm sorry. About all of it, really."

He nodded, leaning in to nuzzle her as she put a hand against his chest, curling her fingers just enough to cause a pinprick like pain.

It took him a moment to realize she'd fed more often than he had – it'd been days since he'd last, usually he was solely focused on keeping her in check that he hadn't bothered to remind himself. Knowing she'd gotten used to him being somewhat rough when it came for his turn to feed, he acted.

Stepping away from the door to surprise her, he uses what few seconds he has to push her to the bed, the both of them falling to the mattress, she giggling.

"James, mhm, d-don't-" she protested at the attempt at pulling the comforter over them, "It'll get too warm, and I don't want to wreck that one, too!"

"Who said anything about wrecking it, love? I'm careful – you're the one that likes to make a mess, you know. Just look at the blood and the Nutella," teasing kiss, answered by hands in his hair. His mind drifted to how she'd once mentioned a major weakness of hers being accents – particularly English or Northern Irish at that, and knew at once how to stop that annoying habit of her always saying sorry when she really didn't need to. Knowing mentioning the spilled snacks was going to make her say it again, he smiled, thankful for all the BBC shows they'd been watching, as he found he could do a decent accent if he tried hard enough.

"And before you say you're sorry again," he began, watching her eyes widen in alarm at the noticeable change in his voice, "Listen to me. Say it again when you don't really need to and you'll have something to be sorry for."

She couldn't help the moan as his lips found her neck and her hands tightened in his hair.

But when he woke up in the morning – she was gone.