Disclaimer: Yeah right…

Fan 1: You sound excited. I hope you enjoy the next chapter and thanks for the review!

Sabi: LOL. That would be funny. Thanks for reviewing!

Anon.: Oh good, I was going for intense. Thanks!

Author's Note: Um, hey, sorry about the wait. This site was down for my computer, but it's fixed now, so I will hopefully be updating every other day for this, if it doesn't go down again. Thanks for your patience!

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Sarah was not thrilled with staying in the empty school lounge alone with Reid Garwin. The other boys had made it a point to treat her kindly and politely, and had taken the time to get to know her. Reid annoyed her to no end; in fact, he seemed to enjoy being a general nuisance. Sometimes she wondered how Caleb didn't snap.

She hid a grimace as Reid opened up the door for her, and stepped into the deserted lounge. Reid shut and re-locked the door, then went to flop in the couch in the corner. Sarah took a seat on a large armchair.

Reid didn't stay seated for long. No sooner had she taken a seat, Reid was up again, pacing, or rather, walking about restlessly. Sarah didn't think it could be called pacing because he wasn't constraining himself to one area of the carpet. She found the motion aggravating; she was worried about Caleb.

Reid abruptly stopped and gazed at the door. She heard what sounded like 'should fing be there, not fing babysitting' and suddenly she realized that Reid was just as worried as she was. Perhaps more so, as they were his closest friends.

The knowledge that he was scared seemed to strip away the bad attitude that had been such a barrier before, leaving only the youngest Ipswich who wanted to be fighting with his friends, defending them.

She wanted to say something comforting but all that came out was, "They'll be okay, right?" Her voice actually trembled at the end, remembering the last time Chase had been on the loose.

He turned around to look at her, his emotions clearly displayed on his face, as they always were. First there was a guarded surprise that she was talking to him, the second was the realization that she was reaching out, and the third was a wry smile.

"They'll be fine," he said. "Shouldn't you be more worried about yourself? I mean, you are stuck with me."

Sarah laughed at that, relieved that he didn't say anything inappropriate that would just set her on edge. "The big bad wolf, huh?"

"You don't seem to scared," said the white-blond, looking her over, not in a vulgar way, but assessing her.

"Not a bit," she responded, sticking her chin up in the air, mock bravely.

"That so?" asked Reid. "You've got a house made out of brick then?"

"Even better," said Sarah, "I've got a bomb shelter."

Reid gave a surprised snort, his eyes studying her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"I guess this won't be so bad after all," he said.

"Speak for yourself," said Sarah, her stomach reminding her that it was empty and had been empty for quite awhile. "I haven't had lunch or dinner yet today."

"Ah," said Reid. "You're one of those anorexic chits then, aren't you? Damned sexy." He gave her a wink and she laughed again. His light tone let her know that he was merely teasing her and not make an advance. She figured that being Caleb's girlfriend would set her off limits and even give her a small amount of power over the bad boy of the group.

"You watch your mouth, Mr. Garwin," she warned. "It's not really smart to hit on an already ascended Ipswich's girlfriend, now is it?"

"For you," said Reid, sweeping off his black-knit cap and bowing, "I would risk my life gladly."

"You, sir, are a flirt," said Sarah. "I do not think that your intentions are honorable."

"P'rhaps," said Reid, straightening and giving her a grin, "but I'm a flirt with food."

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced half a Snickers bar. He proffered it to her with a small smile.

"I promise, I broke the end off, and didn't bite it."

"At this point," said Sarah, "I wouldn't mind if you had licked it."

She practically snatched the bar from his hand and tore open the wrapper, biting into it ravenously. He studied her again with amused blue eyes that were the exact shade of a sunny, clear sky.

"You really are hungry, aren't you?" he asked.

"Starved," she responded around a bite.

"Well, then, I assume you won't tell anybody about what I am going to do, will you?" he asked.

She shook her head and he grinned, and then walked over to the barred off section of the bar. He pulled two odd, screwdriver type instruments from his pants pocket, and examined the lock a minute before inserting one and then the other, jiggling them about a bit before the lock clicked open.

He shot her a triumphant grin and then slid the metal gate up and flicked on the lights. He made his way behind the bar and began searching about the drawers.

"Are you supposed to do that?" Sarah asked in concern, glancing about, somewhat afraid that security would suddenly sweep down on them.

"No," he said, and she shook her head when she realized he was completely unconcerned with getting caught. "But you are hungry, aren't you? I could make you a wrap, how about that?"

"As long as it's chicken salad," she said, mentally shrugging. "And on a white tortilla, not wheat, with ranch dressing and tomato and cheese."

"Very well," he said, opening the sliding lid of the sandwich station. "What kind of cheese would you like?"

"Provolone," she said, and then shivered. "It's freezing in here."

"They do turn off the heating on the weekends," he said, shrugging out of his jacket. "Here you go."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I've got this," he said, gesturing to his blue hoody over a Pink Floyd t-shirt. She laughed when the jacket, despite being a little baggy, fit her very well.

"I bet we could share clothes," she said, zipping the jacket up and stuffing her hands in the pockets. She felt a hard object and pulled out a lighter. "You smoke?" she asked.

"Nah," said Reid. "But some of the ladies do. I have to be prepared."

She laughed again and he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and set about making her a wrap, making one of his own as well.

"I'm impressed," she said, when he handed her the finished product on a plate. "But can you make a latte?"

"Vanilla or caramel?" he asked.

"How about a macchiato? Caramel flavored with whip cream."

"Done."

"Seriously?" she asked as he hopped up.

"Don't tell anyone this," he said, confidentially, "but I have a job and it's not selling drugs."

"You're a barista, aren't you?" Sarah asked as he fiddled about the espresso and steamer machines, looking for all the world that he knew what he was doing.

"Guilty," said Reid. "Now, would you really like a macchiato, or would you like something special I make?"

"I don't know. Is it any good?"

"They sell it where I work."

"And where is that?"

"The Daily Grind," said Reid.

"Are you serious?" asked Sarah. "I love that place. What is your drink called?"

"White Coffee," said Reid. "It's new."

"Sure," said Sarah. "I'll try it, just hand me a coke, would you? I'm parched."

He handed her one from the freezer and then started a coffee and a steamer. It took a while to make the drinks, mostly because he had to open new bottles or start a machine, but the presentation was very nicely done, with whipped cream in a spiral decorated with white chocolate shavings.

Sarah burnt her tongue when she tried it, even though Reid warned her it was hot. He laughed at the face she made and gave her an ice cube to suck on. When it was finally cooled enough, she proclaimed it wonderful.

"What is in here?" she asked.

"Half French vanilla roast coffee and half vanilla steamer made with a sprinkle of mocha syrup," said Reid, finally sitting down and eating his own food. "I like to mix and match things, though usually they're not that good."

"So, a barista and a lock picker not to mention a Son of Ipswich, anything else I should know about you?"

"I think I should hear something about you first," said Reid. "All I know is that you're a nice enough girl to go out with Caleb who is perhaps the biggest prick I have ever known."

"He is not!" said Sarah. "He's a nice guy. Very nice and kind and considerate." As far as she was concerned, he was Mr. Perfect, and she felt extremely luckily to have him.

Reid made a face. She knew that Caleb and Reid didn't really get along, though it wasn't because they didn't like each other. She figured that they were simply to 'manly' to admit the fact that they each looked out for the other.

"Alright, so he's the nicest, biggest prick I've ever known," Reid allowed.

"I'm telling on you," said Sarah.

"I'll tell him you were flirting outrageously with me," countered Reid.

She hit him, but playfully.

"I'm the youngest in my family," she said. "But I've only got an older sister, so I was never starved for attention. My older sister is down-right gorgeous; she's a model actually, so I turned to books as my area of expertise."

"I think you could be a model," said Reid loyally.

She blushed. "Well, thank you. Being here is the first time I actually cared how I looked. I know that I'm pretty, but with a sister like Amanda, I never really tried to look good because I was always overshadowed. When I came here, I put make-up on for one of the first times and actually started spending time on my hair."

"Engaging in all the usual female morning rituals that keeps you bound to the mirror," said Reid.

"Yeah, something like that, but it is liberating to feel beautiful."

"Now there's a paradox for you. Anything else, likes, dislikes, secrets you would never tell anyone else?"

"Like I would tell you those?"

"I can be extremely discreet," said Reid. "I've cheated on enough girlfriends to know how to keep my mouth shut." Sarah looked at him a little oddly; he shrugged.

"Well, everything else is normal enough. I like bands like Coldplay and Jet, and I hate country music."

"Hear, hear," said Reid, raising his glass.

"My favorite color is red, deep red, like a rose."

"Or blood."

"Thank you for that wonderful image. I can't sing, but I can play violin."

Reid looked pleasantly surprised at that, but he quickly covered it with nonchalance when she looked at him oddly.

"What?" she asked, ready for a snide comment on her instrument. It didn't come.

"Nothing," he said, flushing ever-so-slightly.

She grinned. "You like the violin, don't you?" she asked.

"No," he defended himself. "I just…it's a nice instrument."

"Mm-hmm," she said, not convinced at all. "Sure. I believe you…not."

He colored further.

"Wait until I tell everyone that the notorious bad boy Reid likes violin music," she teased.

"Alright, fine. I like it. My grandma plays, or used to."

"The grandma that I remind you of?" she asked.

"Yes, that one," he said. "You smile like her."

"Does she live around here?"

"She lives a bit from Boston. She used to play for the orchestra there. When I was little, I stayed with her a lot, and she had to take me to practice with her. She said it was the only time I behaved."

"Why doesn't she play anymore?"

"She lost most of her hearing," said Reid.

"Oh," said Sarah, blushing at her blunder. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged, but she could tell that his grandmother's health was a sensitive point with him. She changed the subject.

"Do you play?"

"I play percussion sometimes. I like to hit things."

"I can see you on a drum set," said Sarah. "So, you like classical music, what other types?"

"Metal," said Reid instantly. "And punk. I like the Sex Pistols, and the Ramones, some Grateful Dead, the Blue Oyster Cult, Led Zep, and Pink Floyd, although I do have a few jazz collections that I listen to. You can't listen to hard core rock with a headache, but if you tell anyone, I will hex you."

"I'll keep it on the down low," said Sarah.

"Good."

"Any other deep dark secrets you feel like sharing?"

Reid cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes going softer as he thought and then he grinned.

"I hustle pool," he said.

"I know that," said Sarah.

"But you think I use, don't you?"

Sarah didn't know how to answer, but Reid merely shrugged slightly.

"I let you all think that, but I don't. Want to see? Watch me eyes."

He jumped up without her answering and grabbed a cue from the rack and set up the triangle of balls. He flashed her a quick grin and broke. Two balls went in and he tilted his head again, studying the table, before leaning over and taking careful aim, the cue held easily in his fingers that were, as usual, sporting the fingerless black gloves.

He snapped the cue forward with precision, sinking a ball easily in a pocket. He was already transferring hands, even as he walked around the table, and the next shot he made was a lefty. He actually seemed to prefer his left hand behind his right, a position a left-handed person would prefer, and thinking back, Sarah realized that Reid was indeed a lefty, which was why he always seemed to grab the seat near the end of the table. She assumed it was so he wouldn't bump elbows with anyone.

His face was set in concentration when he played this time, unlike the other times Sarah had seen him at the table. Then he had been laughing and joking, the smirk set on his lips that were an adorable shade of pink. She would never tell him that though. Now, his brow was furrowed over his sky-blue eyes and he was biting his lower lip when he shot. His eyes stayed blue the entire time.

She applauded enthusiastically when he finally sank the eight-ball in the middle pocket after bouncing it off the opposing wall and he gave a mock bow.

"That looks like something on ESPN," she told him, and he smiled self-consciously.

"Don't you think about telling anyone else," he said, leveling her a warning look. "Or all of my customers will leave."

"My lips are sealed," she promised.

"I suppose I'll just have to tell then," said a cold voice behind them.

Reid whipped around as Sarah gasped. Chase was standing in the doorway leading from the school.

Reid was immediately standing in front of her and Sarah grasped weakly at the bar, trying to hold herself without trembling. When Caleb had seen her last, she had been put into some sort of trance, but she hadn't been asleep like they all thought. She had heard the sounds of the fight; had heard the fire that was coming closer; had heard each and everyone of Caleb's gasps and grunts of pain and had been unable to move.

"The hell do you want?" Reid demanded.

"Her," said Chase, nodding at Sarah behind him. Sarah had to tell herself to breathe.

"Not happening. Go screw off." Reid's voice was cold, his hands clenched by his sides.

Chase laughed. "I can do what I want seeing as there is no one here to stop me."

"Think again."

"You? You're not even ascended yet, what are you going to do to stop me?"

"I don't have to stop you. I just have to keep you here until Caleb arrives and then he can roast your pretty ass."

"Caleb doesn't know that you are here, and Pogue really wasn't in the position to tell him when I left. I think it had to do with the metal pole shoved through his chest."

Oh, please, not Pogue, Sarah thought. Being the best friend of his girlfriend meant that she and the second-eldest Ipswich had a bond as she acted as a mediator between the two whenever they had one of their frequent fights. Before she came, Caleb had tried his hand at mending the relationship, but he had done poorly as he hadn't known what to say. Sarah knew that Caleb was grateful that she had a cool head and understood the dynamics of the two that were clearly meant for one another, even if they were too pig-headed to see it at times.

Reid's eyes darkened. "Pogue dies and you die, pretty boy."

Sarah knew that, as the youngest Ipswich, even being younger than her, Reid could do very little to back that threat, but even so, his words sent a thrill of fear up her spine.

"Again," said Chase, walking closer, "you don't seem to realize the hopelessness of your situation, do you? Caleb isn't coming as he is too concerned with holding Pogue's hand as he dies. Besides, you don't really think that he would follow me to save you, do you? I've been watching you Reid. You two don't exactly get along, do you?"

"We get on well enough," said Reid, not moving an inch.

"Don't lie, Garwin. Did you know, that when Caleb first started seeing the affects of my power, the way I killed that boy, he thought it was you?"

"No," said Reid, shaking his head. "He knows I wouldn't do that."

"Does he?"

"I'm not the best of people, but I have lines I don't cross. Caleb knows that."

"You're deluding yourself. He thought you were addicted and turning into a murder just to get your hit."

"He knows me. He knows I wouldn't kill anyone." It sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of that. Sarah wondered if he was.

"Why was he keeping such a close eye on you then? Why did he fight you at Nicky's? Normally he would have just yelled at you for using, but he was actually angry, wasn't he?"

Reid paled ever-so-slightly. "No," he whispered.

"He was angry because he thought you offed that kid."

Reid swallowed. "It's not true. He…he wouldn't."

"You're finally realizing it now, aren't you? He doesn't trust you, Garwin. He thinks that you're exactly like me."

"I'm not like you!" Reid shouted, his voice adamant, but at the same time, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty.

"You're not? Caleb seems to think you are, and Caleb is usually right."

Reid hardly noticed that Chase stepped closer to him. He seemed to be too busy trying to make himself believe that Caleb hadn't thought he was so far gone.

"Caleb's a bastard," he told Chase. "He just thinks he's always right."

"Oooo, harsh there, Garwin. No wonder he hates you."

"He doesn't hate me." The response was quick, too quick. Sarah suddenly realized that Chase was easily getting the upper hand in the verbal spar.

"No? Why does he keep on ragging you then? Why does he always blame you for everything that has happened?"

Chase stepped forward once more, and Sarah tried to snap Reid out of the daze he seemed to be in.

"Reid, Caleb doesn't hate you," she said. "He's just worried about you." It was true; she had Caleb's confidence. Chase negated her protest.

"Worried about you, or worried about you threat you may pose? Face it, Reid, you don't have a chance against me. Are you really going to defend the girlfriend of the man who thinks you're just like me? Are you really going to try and stop me?"

"Maybe," Reid whispered.

"How are you going to defeat me? You're not ascended yet."

Reid was suddenly a blur of motion. His hand was pulling a switchblade out of his pocket, flicking the blade in place, and then he was hurling it with deadly precision right at Chase who had no opportunity to block the surprise attack. The knife buried itself in Chase's chest, up to the hilt in the ascended's heart.

"I was planning on that, actually," said Reid as Chase fell backwards. "Keeping you talking and distracted so I could catch you off guard. Sarah, could you please run away very fast, and while you're running, could you please call your boyfriend and tell him to get down here?"

"But, isn't he dead?" Sarah asked weakly, trying to look away from the dead body. Oh, sweet heaven, there was blood.

"No," said Reid. "He's…different somehow, more powerful than he was before. I doubt a knife is really going to stop him."

As if to prove him right, Chase's arm twitched.

"Sarah, run now."

"I don't want to leave you," she said. He couldn't hold his own in a fight against an ascended. She knew because he and Caleb often got into brawls.

"I'm touched, really, but right now you're just a distraction to me. Run. Call Caleb. Stay away. Got that?"

"But-,"

"Now!" Reid commanded, finally turning to her and his eyes flashing black with power.

She ran.

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