(A/n: Any errors or mistakes will be taken care of later. Please enjoy)


Chapter 47: The Purpose of Vincent's Betrayal

Small beads of blood travel to the ground one after the other. Thousands of pink petals lay clustered away from a large circular dirt patch that two men are in in the middle of a closed off landscape. The sky is a cloudless dark blue filled with many stars and a big silver moon, yet a somewhat strong wind is blowing the pretty leaves from the bunch of trees in the background into the air and onto the grass beneath them.

"Hmm, seems the change in scenery didn't help," Vincent frowns, titling his head to the side. "You've shown no improvement even though I've made this place into an exact replica of the training ground we've frequently sparred in."

Recovering his breath while on one knee, Micheal curls one hand into a fist, scratching the soil, his other hand held lightly over his stomach. "Damn it, guess this is what I get for slacking off. Can't even dodge his punches like I used to." He raises his head, his face slightly bruised with a thick line of red leaking out from the side of his bottom lip. He spits the blood out. "Did you not hear me before? I said this wasn't sparring practice." He struggles to stand up, grunting at the searing pain in his abdomen. An embarrassingly clear sign that Vincent has been holding back all this time.

"Ah ahh Micheal, no cheating." Vincent wags his finger as if he's flippantly berating a child. "Healing as well as using any other form of magic is prohibited."

Now on his feet, Micheal shoots him an offended glare. He knows better than to heal his injuries, not once did he do it during their 'friendly' training sessions back then so why would he now? Wasting even a pinch of energy will be his downfall. "You've already broken the no magic rule."

"If I had of stated the regulations prior to our fight yes I would've, but since I didn't it doesn't count," Vincent smiles innocently.

Despite himself, Micheal can feel the corner of his lips curling upwards a little though his eyes are still narrowed at the long haired vampire. "Cheeky bastard."

Vincent chuckles. "Who have I been hanging around for over twenty years?"

Micheal loses his half-smile. "Certainly not just me." A frown appears on Vincent's face, Micheal can't tell exactly what he's feeling. He clenches his hand by his side, the pressure of his nails dulled by the dirt. "Tell me Vincent, why the hell are you doing this? Is it because of that Ingrum guy?"

Vincent calmly shakes his head. "No, this was something I wanted to do. He merely came along for the fun."

"What?!" Micheal cannot believe what he just heard, he doesn't know whether to be dumbfounded, angry or both. "You seriously think causing an uproar in the very building you created into a school is fun?!"

Going stoic in the face, Vincent seemingly stares straight into confounded mint-green eyes through his closed eyelids. "Micheal, do you know why I made this place into a learning institute for our kind?"

Blinking, the noirette frowns confusedly at the query. "To help the younger generations acquire knowledge about current events as well as the history of their ancestors, and also provide them a place to stay right?"

A brief look of shock appears on Vincent's face, then a small smile comes to surface as he nods his head. "Yes you are indeed correct." Opening his eyes slightly, he gazes up at the night sky. "It's been three and a half years since it's making. I originally wanted a few humans to attend also, but I'd figured it was a bit too soon for that. So I waited. Hoping that by doing so none of the humans would've been seen as another source of food or worse, killed or turned into one of us." Sliding his eyes back shut with a frown, he lowers his head in Micheal's direction. "Alas, only one of those scenarios was avoided, but don't think you're at fault for this Micheal. You alone can't handle the hundreds of students here."

Even though he's right, the lingering guilt deep down doesn't subside. "Still doesn't explain your reason for doing this. How long have you been-" Vincent holding up a hand compels him to stop his question short.

"I think we've talked long enough. If we continue with this idle chit-chat any longer Chris would've killed just about everyone by the time we're finished." Micheal grits his teeth. "If you want the rest of your questions answered," dropping his arm, a smirk spreads across Vincent's lips. "You're going to have to defeat me first."

Micheal tenses nervously. The ache in his stomach hasn't lessened at all. "Tch fine, and you'd better tell me everything too." He's just going to have to try and not get hit in his gut anymore, which he knows will be difficult. Once Vincent discovers your weakness, he will exploit it as much as possible.

"Of course, I never go back on my word."

Relaxing his fist, Micheal hurls the smushed dirt at Vincent's face. However since it's been in his closed hand for over a minute the soil had hardened. "Shit..."

Vincent stifles a laugh, moving aside from the dirt's trajectory. "Wow, never thought you'd resort to such a cheap trick Micheal." Said man swiftly appears behind him. "And a failed one at that." Readying a tightly clenched fist to punch Vincent in his face just in case he turns around, the instant he outstretches his arm Vincent does as he expected however a hand promptly grabs his wrist. The next moment his vision does a 180. Despite the powerful exertion of Vincent's throw, Micheal manages to instinctively land on his feet, wincing at the pressure on his wrist. If Vincent gives it a meager squeeze, it'll most likely break.

Twisting himself around, Micheal attempts to punch Vincent again with his free hand. Who catches it with brisk speed in a firm hold. Micheal scowls at him through the additional pain. "You've fought dirty before too, plenty of times in fact."

"I have done no such thing."

Micheal thrusts his foot at the man's midsection. Vincent quickly lets go of both his hand and wrist to deflect the blow, retaliating by aiming a fist at his chest. Micheal evades by a hair, but doesn't get a chance to go back on the offensive for Vincent starts delivering an onslaught of punches. For the next couple minutes Micheal is forced to either block or elude the rapid attacks. Each hit that connects - especially at his stomach - weakens him even more.

"I admire you," Vincent suddenly says, not letting up. Caught off guard by his sincere statement, Micheal barely defends himself against a jab trained at his face. Instead he leaps back creating some distance. "You're refraining from using any magic knowing you're at a huge disadvantage. I'm actually starting to feel a little bad now."

Micheal was already aware of that fact, the way Vincent pointed it out though pisses him off. He did have a tendency of rubbing salt in his wounds back then. "Don't even think about goin' easy on me."

Vincent chuckles, folding his arms behind his back. "I wasn't planning on it, you've taken beatings worse than this before. Instead I will answer only one question of yours."

"Oh?" Micheal raises a curious eyebrow. "Then tell me why you're trying to kill everyone."

Vincent gives him a small frown. "Of course that'd be the first thing you'd want to know." He sighs. "Fine." Micheal eyes his platinum haired frenemy intently. "My motive for doing this...is for you all's safety." He sticks out a hand just as Micheal opens his mouth, looking equally mad and confused. "In these past three and a half years nothing like this has ever occurred, which is a fortunate thing. However despite the disastrous events that were caused by quite a few dozen students, mainly for idiotic reasons, there's nothing more scarier than facing a formidable threat unknowingly."

A seconds long silence follows. When Vincent remains quiet, Micheal begins to process his last set of words. "So," he furrows his eyebrows. "You did this as a way of preparing us for this kind of situation in the near future?" Vincent just gives him a cryptic smile, neither denying or agreeing with his assumption. "But was it necessary to team up with a fucking vampire hunter?!"

"Ah ah Micheal, I said I'd answer only one question. You know what you have to do if you want to know more."

To think a friend he's known for so long was plotting something like this in secret, it's..unfathomable. Irate by Vincent's treason, Micheal curls his hands into fists, the bones in his fingers popping loudly. The next second he's gone, a small cloud of dust left in the spot where he once stood.

Taken aback though quick to compose himself, Vincent blocks his punch, wincing faintly at his strength. "Oh my, are you just now starting to get serious? That's very insulting."

Micheal deepens his glare. "You were holding back too you damn hypocrite, and I'm gonna make you regret it." Vincent smirks at him.

No more taunts are exchanged, only their fists and feet now. Neither are aware of this at the moment, but Micheal is slowly but surely gaining the upper hand.


"Kyle!"

Tweek watches as Kyle locks both of his hands into Craig's opened ones, Tweek hurriedly stepping to the side as Kyle starts skidding back. Planting his feet firmly to the floor, Kyle tries to stop himself by overpowering Craig, feeling as though he's not making any progress. After a short while, he manages to regain his footing, however the rage fueling Craig is still granting him the advantage.

"I'll kill you for what you did!" Craig seethes, squeezing harder.

"Yes, kill him hehe."

Kyle lets out a grunt of pain, feeling the bones in his hands gradually being crushed. Through his one-eyed vision, he notices tears coming to surface in Craig's red eyes. "Ngh, C-Craig calm down!" Kyle says through gritted teeth, crying out when more pressure is applied onto his hands.

"Shut up!

Tweek observes the two anxiously, then focuses his attention on Kyle. "I-I have to help him, b-but..." What can he do? The only things he's accustomed to doing is teleporting and using telepathy, he has yet to get familiar with his enhanced strength. What if he goes overboard and ends up hurting Craig, or worse kill-

Multiple loud cracking sounds suddenly pierce the semi-silence, followed by Kyle's agonizing scream, the redhead dropping to the floor on both knees. His hands..are not something one wants to see...

Tweek's trembling form goes rigid, twitching when he sees Craig roughly kick Kyle in the jaw, a bit of blood flying into the air as he falls to the floor on his side. His blue-green eyes dimming in color and his mind going blank, Tweek leisurely advances forward.

Craig nears the cowering dark figure, looking down at him with a sick grin on his face. However he isn't satisfied just yet. This bastard came out of nowhere and killed Clyde for no apparent reason, he's going to make him suffer until he begs for death. Then he's going to find that annoying little girl he's been hearing. Before he can do anything else, a body suddenly barrels into him, sending them both crashing into the wall.

Dazed and in pain from the harsh collision with his back, Craig cracks an eye open to see another mysterious male prepared to punch him. His eyes widen. "There's two of him?!" Quickly snapping out of it, he catches his enemy's fist and delivers a punch of his own, sending them flying towards the opposite wall right in between the windows. The crater is big and wide enough to reach the windows, however it's not too deep. Standing up, Craig glares at the man on the floor then at the one slumped against the wall. They look exactly alike except the guy whose fingers he broke has vibrant green eyes while the other has blue ones. Either way they're both weak, and if Clyde hadn't been caught off guard he wouldn't have...Gritting his teeth with a guttural growl, Craig approaches the man laying on the floor.

"Thought you could win by double teaming me? Nice try fucker," Craig sneers. He bends down to grab him by his collar, startled when he gets abruptly grabbed instead. The hand holding his wrist looks perfectly fine.

Intensifying his grip, Kyle slowly sits up. "I don't know what the hell your deal is, but you better cool it or else."

Craig glares into his narrowed green orbs. "B-bastard." He uses his other hand to strike him, but ends up halting as soon as a low but resounding 'snap' enters his ears. After a bit of hesitation, he peeks at his wrist, shocked to see it bent in an awkward angle. An immense pain shoots up his arm then throughout his entire body, collapsing to the floor while screaming and swearing, and lightly clutching his broken joint.

Rising to his feet, without sparing the teen a glance Kyle surveys the hall for Tweek, spotting him seemingly unconscious near a cracked wall. Hoping he's not too injured, he rushes over to the blonde.

Tweek was already waking up thanks to Craig's outburst, blinking his eyes open with a groan. A dull ache coursing through his frame fully rouses him awake, mainly feeling it in his face and the back of his head. He raises a hand to touch behind his head, flinching when a cold hand grips his.

"Are you okay?"

Tweek gapes into tense lime-green eyes. "Y-yeah. My head's killing me, but I'm fine. But wait what about you?! Your ha-" He looks over at his hand held in Kyle's own, the redhead smiling reassuringly. Tweek smiles in relief, then Kyle helps him up on his feet.

All of a sudden, fast approaching footsteps accompanied by someone shouting "Craig!" comes from down the hallway.

Tweek and Kyle look in the voice's direction to see that it belonged to Butters, the boy nearing them from about five meters away. Kyle frowns at the blood in the back of Tweek's hair.

Butters slows to a stop in front of them, eying Craig with a serious look. "What's goin' on here?"

Craig suddenly chuckles. Sitting up, he turns and looks disappointingly at the group of ebony hooded beings. "Now there's three of you huh?" The third clone has light blue eyes. "Can't kill me on your own? Pathetic."

"As you can see, the dude's lost it," Kyle says, glaring at the crazed teen who's staggering to stand up. "We found him hunched over on the floor some minutes ago, then he suddenly attacked me. Just not too long ago he said he was gonna kill me for what I did."

Butters' expression hardens. "What did you do?"

"Nothing as far as I know. I only dislocated his wrist out of self-defense." And for hurting Tweek.

Butters is quiet for a moment. "You guys go, I'll handle him."

Kyle looks a bit doubtful, but doesn't bother to object. Butters is the most levelheaded out of their clique. "I'm sure you'll have better luck than me." Kyle tries to teleport, but finds out that he can't. "What?"

"What's wrong?" Tweek asks, making a concerned face.

Kyle attempts to teleprt again, making sure he doesn't mess up the simple process. But it didn't make a difference, it still failed. He curses. "I can't teleport." He knits his eyebrows, recalling the unexpected surge of magic they felt previously. "Must've had something to do with that strange feeling earlier."

"It came from the auditorium," Butters informs them. "Kenny and Stan were on their way there, but I warned them to stay away. I don't know where they ran off to."

Kyle is relieved to know that they heeded Butters' warning. "Okay, thanks for giving them the heads up." Butters' eyes widen. That's the very first time Kyle has ever expressed his gratitude with such earnest, and towards him no less. Kyle gently squeezes Tweek's hand. "C'mon, let's go find them." Receiving a hesitant nod from his boyfriend, they take off into a sprint down the hall.

Craig watches them go helplessly with a sharp glare. "Tch, fucking coward."

"Don't let him get away Craig, or your friend's death would've been in vain." Craig stiffens.

A heavy silence settles over him and Butters. The edgy atmosphere snaps Butters out of his daze, pressing his lips into a line he nears the noirette. "Craig, where's Clyde?"

As soon as he's within range, Craig grabs him by the throat, startling the blonde. "How dare you?" Craig growls, effortlessly lifting him up, the intensity of his scarlet eyes glaring daggers into the light blue ones. "You ask where he is when you're the one who fucking killed him!"

Butters' heart drops.


"Zhis place fucking stinks," Christophe groans, holding the collar of his long sleeved shirt over his nose and mouth. Damien and Sullivan wordlessly agree with him.

"Where are we anyway?" Damien asks, glancing around in the pitch darkness. "I don't see any trash so this isn't-waaait." Behind him he spots four rusty chains connected to the wall, the floor below them painted in dried blood. "I think this is where the hunter was being kept." What he doesn't understand is why the chains still appear fastened.

"Oh well no wonder," Christophe says flatly.

Sullivan approaches the closed door. "Fortunately we're still wizhin zhe building, now let's focus on getting out of here. Zhis stench is more pungent zhan garlic."

Christophe and Damien do the same. "How're we gonna do that though?" Damien questions. "The door's got some kind of barrier around it."

Stopping, Sullivan turns to them with a cunning smirk. "Worry not, I have a solution." Facing the door again, he scoots his glasses up over the bridge of his nose with one finger. "Teleport." Just like in the auditorium black smoke starts oozing from the very thin pages of his book, this time staying on the floor and circling around the three men's feet. As Christophe and Damien look down curiously, they soon look back up once the gas suddenly surrounds them in a big sphere. The next moment they are gone from the room and is now in the long hallway in front of the door. The grim looking barrier starts evaporating back into the big book, revealing their new location to them.

Damien blinks owlishly while Christophe lowers his hand, inhaling in the air free of scorched flesh and rotten blood. "So all this time we actually could've teleported out?" Damien blinks again.

Sullivan shakes his head, turning to look at the door. Christophe and Damien follow his gaze, and instantly recognize what's embedded in the center of the brownish-red wood. "Zhis cross was impeding our escape, it's meant for subduing vampires." A gleam flashes in the lens of Sullivan's glasses. "Not witches."

"I see, so zhat book contains spells," Christophe says, intrigued.

Sullivan nods his head. "Zhough zhey are weak compared to actual witches magic."

"No wonder you carry that thing around, thought you were just a huge nerd. Well I guess you still are since it's probably got like over a million spells in there," Damien shrugs, mildly shocked. Sullivan snickers at his comment. "But anyway, what now? Do we help Micheal cuz he might need some assistance, since Henrietta and Luther weren't around for some reason."

Sullivan frowns in thought. "Yes I do wonder where zhose two are amid all zhis, but I zhink it's best to let zhe Principal handle Mr. Valentine by himself. Zhe vampire hunter could be roaming around and zhe last thing he'd want is for us to prioritize him over zhe students. In fact, I'm going to pay one of zhem a visit right now." Thick black mist leaks out of the book once again, eerily coiling around his feet only. "Oh I almost forgot, we are no longer able to teleport or use telepathy zhanks to zhat interference spell on zhe stage. I don't know how long it'll last, but I believe it's not for too long." Once the dark vapor solidifies around him, he disappears.

Damien raises an eyebrow. "How'd he know? Did he even try?" He attempts to teleport, but goes nowhere. He attempts to use telepathy, but is startled when a deep humming reverberates inside his head. Blinking and placing a hand over his forehead, he shakes the feeling away. "Damn, he was right."

Christophe tsks. "Guess we're running zhen."

"Can you carry me? My head feels funny," Damien whines.

The brunette's shamrock green eyes stare into his pleading crimson ones. Heaving a sigh, Christophe seizes his boyfriend's hand and pulls him into running, the noirette groaning as if he's in grave pain along the way.

(A/n: I hope you enjoyed and the next chapter will up soonish)