Eli woke up. How could he have fallen asleep? He reached up and touched his neck, at the point where Gennie had bitten him so many years before but only felt the scarf that he permanently wore to conceal his wound. He now wished he hadn't struggled so much. It may have been a lot less of a gash otherwise, and wouldn't look so ugly. Eli suddenly turned his head. He had heard something, someone was here. He stood up, his fingers closing on a knife that Gennie had left lying around, and turned around. A figure stood slumped in the doorway shaking. Recognising the silhouette he dropped the knife with a clatter. He had sensed something was wrong.

"Gennie!" She collapsed into his arms, shivering. "Gennie, are you all right." He sniffed and gagged. "And what is that god-awful smell?"

"Demon blood," she answered slowly. "He deserved it."

"Why? What happened?" asked Eli, supporting her over to a pew. "You don't look right."

"Drugged..."

"Bastard!"

"Eli..."

"What is it?" Gennie stared at an indistinct spot in the air.

"I'm not weak," she whispered, and bowed her head.

"You never were," Eli told her. He touched her forehead. It was cold (no surprise there) but also quite clammy. "Gennie, you're not looking too good. You need rest."

"I can't," she moaned.

"Well you need to," Eli argued.

"No, I can't rest, Eli. I really can't." She crossed both her arms across her chest and touched her shoulders. "Not when it reopens old wounds."

"What did he do to you?" said Eli, in a voice that shook with anger. Gennie shook her head.

"He didn't," she said. "I stopped him. He can't touch me now."

"Gennie..." Eli's voice sounded distant. He touched her cheek.

"Eli..."

"What is it, darling?"

"Draco's bar. There's something different about the blood there."

"What do you mean?"

"The blood. It tastes sweet."

"So..."

"Draco's supplier is giving him children's blood."

"Right," said Eli. Then he smiled. "That's perfect, in fact. That can replace the blood we've lost. We'll have to go back for it eventually. Gennie..." He held her close to him. She was still shivering. "You need rest."

"Easier said than done," she said. "I haven't felt like this since..." She wavered off. Eli kissed the top of her head, trying to ignore the bad taste of the blood in her hair.

"Shh," he whispered. "Everything will be all right. I'm here."

"I know," she whispered. "I just hate myself. All these years wanting revenge and now I'm not sure if I'm strong enough yet. I feel ..." she stopped, as though searching for a word. Eli sighed and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "We've just been given a second advantage. If the blood at that bar of yours is children's blood, then we have time to spare. Any Slayer coming and poking their nose in won't. We take the bar and the hospital and no one will suspect anything. We'd be ready in three days."

"Should I go...?"

"No," he said. "And for once, listen to me. Now you need rest. Sleep." He drew his hand swiftly across her eyes and Gennie felt herself sink immediately into a deep sleep. "Sleep," whispered Eli again, holding up her head. He held her close to his chest, rocking her like an infant. She lay still: quiet as her own heart. Eli rested his head back on the pew. He felt guilty again. He didn't like it. He hadn't been able to help her again (although this time he was merely not present than nursing several fractured ribs). And yet she would never blame him. She didn't have any anger to spare. She was too concentrated on killing her sire than anything else. He loved her. She'd known that before even he had done, but when he had known, when she had bitten him, then it felt overwhelming: a flame that even after a near century had never died. The letter he'd sent to Edna had already been sent and he'd known it was only a matter of time before she herself came to Yorkshire so he'd left with Gennie in pursuit of her sire. Gennie always hated to mention him. She hated him. She really really did. That was the flame that kept her going. What would happen once he was gone? Would she be happy? Eli hoped so, but wasn't sure. Was he being naïve about this: to believe in a happy ending? Still, he did believe what he had told Gennie. Time was their friend. Even if a Slayer had been alerted to their presence, the chances of her finding them in the next three days were very slim. They couldn't lose. And tomorrow he would put his side-plan into action. Not even Gennie knew what he was doing, but whilst she was out tonight he had done some work of his own. He now knew where the Slayer was, and could divert her target. Eli glanced over at the brown envelope he had left over by the pentagram. He would wait until sunrise, when the suspicion was off him or Gennie, and he'd deliver it to Faith Lehane. He smiled, imagining the reaction. That would be interesting.