I sat alone in my cell.

Across from me, beyond the silver bars, leaning against the dreadfully grey, stone wall... was my grandfather. Marcus. His full head of hair was exactly like my own fathers. Swayed back on top, cut military short around the sides. Wrinkles formed in his brow every time I looked up at him.

Beside him. Were two people, who I knew all too well. Angela, who sat patiently in a rusted, worn chair, leant against the bars to my cell. Pleading with me too look at her. I couldn't. But that didn't stop her from repeating herself every time I shifted on my damp bed.

It still smelt like the cold sweat I'd awoken too. The dank stench seemed to make the mattress, that much harder to keep from shifting around where I sat. I couldn't seem to keep away from the seat without moving into the light.

The shadow from the angled roof of my cell seemed to start just at my feet. A feint privacy I didn't deserve. I knew I was to be locked up for what I'd almost done. I deserved to be treated like an animal... a monster.

Emily seemed to agree with me, glaring from the right of Marcus like the victim I'd turned her into. She had every right to hate me. And even though, her father had been the one to kill mine... I still couldn't help but apologize.

"I'm sorry..."

The words went unnoticed by the two leaning souls peering in at me.

My grandfather had informed me that they had caught and killed Seymour before coming to capture me. His death, didn't solve a single problem of mine. Instead, it just left me more and more desolate.

The two moved as one too leave me there in my cell. And Angela, as she did for the past two days, stayed behind. She was just as locked up as I was...

"They won't let you out, until you say something." She said, wiping the tears from her eyes once more. "They won't let us be together."

"You don't need another monster in your life." I said, forsaking everything my heart had ever taught me.

She seemed surprised that I'd finally said something too her.

"Michael." Her soft, grief ridded voice struck a cord in my head. And I began to feel dizzy.

"Angela." I said. "Leave me here."

"No." It wasn't a plea. It was a declaration. A soft, heartfelt, declaration. The such that made me look up at her. She was hell bent, I could feel it. Something that had been building in me since the first time we shared each other's skin. Every day seemed to make me more and more attuned to her thoughts, and her emotions. Neither of us knew what was happening... and back then, neither of us cared.

"So now you decide to talk!" I heard a yell come from somewhere beyond my vision. Marcus had wheeled around in mid stride. I probably should have waited until I heard the prison doors shut.

Cursing under my breath, I waited for those dark brown eyes to come around and face me through the bars. The first day I'd been in here, he'd reamed me pretty hard about control. He must've seen what I'd done to the house.

You see, I had originally thought Marcus to be a lone shark, of sorts. Living off some kind of allowance, angry when his money was dipped into. I couldn't have been more wrong.

This prison, where I now resided in my little, tormented head, was a mansion. Sedated and half-crazed, Marcus had flown me, Angela, and the other four, straight to Canada. I'd only glanced at it once, as they wheeled me through a crowd of endless eyes, and my exact thought, was that the white house wasn't nearly as big. He owned this land, and the endless forest that surrounded it. He was an alpha, like no other.

He housed lost souls with our unique abilities, and those of the sort. The people who'd been watching me, strapped in a wheel chair, half-alive, were all werewolves. And those that weren't, were just as different.

But that wasn't what was on my mind right now. Right now, I watched as he wheeled around the corner, his thick hand gripping the metal bar nearest too the wall.

"Don't you shut me out, Michael!" He yelled. "I'm trying to help you! Don't you care?" His voice was like an avalanche of fury, bottled and muffled by the glass containing it. He rubbed his hand against his sweating head, "What about Angela, here?"

Angela looked up, leaving me to gaze at her face from the side. That perfect skin, white, but not too white. I swallowed hard at the many thoughts that fueled inside of me, churning in it's acidic nature.

He was about to turn and leave when Angela spoke up.

"Dammit! Michael! Listen to him!" She was furious. I felt it, just as she felt me recoil on the inside. Instantly she became silent again. At first I thought I felt her start to give up, and that's when I stood.

"I do care." I said, walking over to the bars, and kneeling down. Angela met my gaze, and was surprised that I was smiling. My pale hand slipped through the bars, ever so slowly, and I caught her chin in my soft hands. I'd never felt like this before... and it was probably because of our conflicting emotions rising in my body.

She leaned forward, and pressed her soft lips against mine. I wanted more. God, how I wanted more! But for now, this was all I had.

Marcus walked over to Angela as we parted. "Do you mind if I have a word alone, darlin'?

Angela nodded and then left. I watched her with envy that I wasn't next too her. What was wrong with me... keeping myself from her was a sin in itself.

He waited til she was out of earshot to ask me. I saw he was fumbling with words, and I knew that only meant that he'd give up on nice and just ask me in his own way. "Do you want to finally give up this little pity party of yours and go back to her?"

"Yes."

"Then why all this..." He said motioning with his hands at my decor. "Why do this too yourself? It's not worth it, son."

The last word hit me with a sense of regret for even knowing my father. I'd brought this upon him when I first met him. This was destiny at it's cruelest. I hated myself. I should have never even tried to fight that werewolf the night of my attack. I should have just died. Regret crawled through me... and I became silent.

"No," He said, reaching through and shaking my shoulder. "Don't shut me out? Is it because of your father?"

I nodded, falling back on my butt and pulling my knees in close. Stability wasn't my strong suit... that much was becoming apparent.

"Michael... look at me. You aren't a killer. And I should know." I eyed him as he continued. Praying I wouldn't cry. "Every man in our family has his vices. I myself can't stand the injustice that our kind brings to others. You've seen how bloodthirsty we can be first hand! Dane..."

I growled a little in my throat.

"Sorry. My son, couldn't let things be. Constantly solving problems that he'd had no part in, just because. Him and that musician, always together, always trying to make the perfect existance possible for you, and everyone else that lived under that roof of his!"

It was strange hearing his take on the musician, like he was just some ruffian that my father used to hang around.

"And then I look at you. And your vice... which couldn't have come from anyone, But my son, which was the fact that you couldn't stand to see someone die. Don't look at me like that. My son told me how you dove under him to save someone who tried to kill you not seconds before! I don't know anyone as selfless as that! And how you seem to take the problems of the world on your shoulders, barreling through just like the man we all are! I was impressed."

I looked up at him, smiling at his flattery.

Marcus waved at someone down the hall, and my cage slid open.

"Now why don't we reunite your little family and find you all a place too stay until your house is repaired."

"My house?" I asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

"That house has been passed down from father to son since the eighteen hundreds! It was the first shelter for our kind, ever built in the America's! I'd still be working it if I hadn't built this place!"

It was beginning to seem like every man in my family was hated by everyone... but once you got to know them... I wondered if I would be the same... I wondered if there were still people who were determined to hate me. Even with Seymour dead... there were people out there, like Emily, who would hate me... and there wasn't anything I could do about it...